'The second ring Sharantyr took from the body-from the left little toe-should hold the means to free them,' Sylune's voice said, a little wearily. As Belkram turned to walk back to where Shar had been working, Sylune added, 'They can help build a pyre. The body must be burned before someone gets a good look at it. Waste no time about this, mind.'
'Of course not, great lady,' Belkram said, sarcasm only the faintest of ripples in his tone.
The deep tinkling sound made in reply by the stone in his palm was quite the loveliest chuckle he'd ever heard.
The Castle of Shadows, Kythorn 16
Blue-tinged mists swirled hastily out of the way as Kostil of the Malaugrym stalked angrily through the Castle of Shadows. 'Summoning us all to a council is a wise-if time-devouring-action at such a time, but how long must we wait for the Shadowmaster High to appear? I have plans-I daresay we all do-and now, with magic raging wild in Faerun and godlings bounding all over the place, is not the time to tarry in bureaucratic power games!'
'I am of like mind,' Yabrant said quietly. 'What could he be about, to be so important tha-'
Under their feet, the shadows shook with the sudden boom of the great bell. They stopped, turned as one, and grew wings to speed back to the Great Hall as the rolling echoes died away.
Then the bell rang again, a single strike in measured time with the previous ring. Their eyes met. The bell tolling? This could mean only one thing-and Dhalgrave had been forceful, strong, and in full command of his powers not long ago at all.
Unlike Dhalgrave, neither of them-senior Shadow-masters both-had the strength of magic to levitate around a chamber, move the seeking eye of the portal around Faerun, speak to an errant Malaugrym, bring one's own shape out of invisibility, and alter the portal's size and location in the Great Hall, overriding its spell defenses constantly and smoothly to do so… all at once.
Moreover, all the things that laid humans low-heart attacks, diseases, poisons, the failure of veins and lesser organs-were minor annoyances to Malaugrym able to change their bodies. Those of the blood of Malaug declined slowly, losing their shapeshifting abilities fitfully, usually along with their memories. Unless they were slain.
Kostil and Yabrant exchanged another grim glance and redoubled their efforts to get back to the throne chamber. The great bell tolled once more as the speed of their passage made the shadows they tore through rise in a continuous moan.
Daggerdale, Kythorn 16
'It has been a pleasure to aid you,' Randal Morn said quietly, shaking their hands. Brammur smiled broadly and nodded his head in emphatic agreement, moustaches bobbing, but Thaern stood watchfully a little way to the side, an arrow fitted and ready in his bow. In these dark days, Daggerdale was hard pressed to keep its rightful lord alive.
The three rangers in worn leathers bowed in response. Straightening up, Sharantyr kept her features straight in the face of Brammur's longing gaze. The old warrior was obviously smitten with her. The eyes of the other loyal men of Daggerdale said plainly that they'd not forgotten their glimpses of her, either. She gave them all a cheery smile and said, 'When the smoke begins to rise, I take it these ruins will become a very dangerous place to tarry?'
The Lord of Daggerdale nodded. 'We are always watched,' he said quietly, 'by the cruel creatures of Zhentil Keep and by predators hungry for man-meals. Not that there's much difference between them as far as the few surviving good folk of Daggerdale are concerned.'
'Then we are forcing you into flight once more,' Belkram said, in tones so sensitive that no warrior of Daggerdale thought to take offense at his words.
' 'Tis what we're best at, these days,' Brammur rumbled, and there were rueful chuckles from his fellows.
'Then let us part as trusted friends,' Itharr said gravely. Then his voice changed. 'Anyone have flints handy?'
More chuckles gave him reply, and several hands crowded forward to strike sparks onto the handful of kindling that all wayfaring Harpers carried in their bedding, and coax it into a flame for the torch-rag.
As the kindling flared, Randal Morn said, 'We'd best be on our way and leave you to bid farewell to your fallen comrade in privacy. Know that Those Who Harp are always welcome in Daggerdale.'
'If you need refuge, doors are always open to you in Shadowdale,' Sharantyr replied.
'And more,' Belkram said. 'That Harper pin you have will allow you safely into a cache of healing potions and the like, in a cave big enough to shelter six, under a tree. Dig under leaves between the two largest exposed roots of the third shadowtop tree south of Dagger Rock, on the east side of the road. Don't stop if you uncover orc bones.'
The men of Daggerdale exchanged glances and nodded to each other as they fixed the Harper's words in mind.
'That is princely payment,' Randal said quietly, 'for cutting a few tree boughs.'
'You deserve all that the Harpers can give you, and more,' Itharr replied as flame flared under his hands. 'Most folk would have fled or thrown their lives away in stiff-necked glory-seeking long ago. Your struggle protects all in the Dalelands.'
'It is good,' Brammur said gruffly, 'to hear someone say that, now and then. Thank you.' He turned away quickly, eyes very bright, but spun about again to raise his hand in salute.
Randal Morn and the rest of his men joined in the gesture and then began to back away together, the watchful archer covering their withdrawal.
In two breaths they'd all melted away into the trees, and the three rangers in the ruins could see no sign of them.
'Shar?' Itharr asked, holding out the torch.
'You do it,' Sharantyr said shortly, heart suddenly fall and catching at her throat. She stepped back, fighting down the urge to burst into tears.
The Dales should not be lands where men's lives were torn away from them daily by fey shapeshifters and prowling beasts. Where brigands reigned and rightful lords lived like outlaws while arrogant Zhentarim plotted the overthrow of the next dale… and the next.
Belkram touched her arm. 'Mount up,' he said quietly, 'and then you can cry at will.'
Shar stiffened, turning blazing eyes on him, but he merely smiled and clapped her on the shoulder-the shoulder covered by leathers he'd mended. She gulped, threw her arms around him, and said tremulously, jaw hard on his shoulder, 'I'm… not… going… to… weep now. It was only a false seeming of a mage, anyway, not our old friend.'
The pyre crackled and then caught, damp wood hissing loudly as smoke rose from many places in the woodpile. Itharr tossed the torch onto it and sought his mount.
Flames began to show themselves, dancing here and there in the pyre.
The horses danced under their riders, the flames making them restive, so the three rangers pulled back a little way to watch.
'We should be leaving,' Belkram said, 'before eyes we won't welcome turn hither.'
'Let us have a real pyre,' Sylune's voice said, from the pouch in the Harper's breast pocket where he carried her stone.
An instant later, the growing crackle of flames leapt into a bright white roar, and a pillar of fire clawed at the sky.
The horses snorted and stamped. After a moment of awed watching, the three riders turned their mounts away and settled into a gallop, heading northwest. No one felt like talking.
9
