powerful watch ghost. You must fight it if you wish to proceed.'
He did not point out that the daemonfey could simply remain outside the tower, since the watch ghost would not attack him. Nurthel had instructed Araevin to lead and to warn him of the dangers they encountered, but he had not asked Araevin to be explain how each peril could be avoided. It was not much of a victory, but Araevin was determined to exploit every misstep in the instructions the fey'ri gave him.
They passed the sigil on the far side of the doorway, and found themselves in the tower's ground floor.
It seems to be my destiny to look for crystals in old ruins, Araevin thought bleakly.
He indicated a stone staircase leading to unseen levels beneath the tower, and led Nurthel's party down the smooth steps. At the bottom the fey'ri sorcerer stopped him.
'Remain here, and make sure you do not get hurt,' Nurthel said. 'We will need you once we deal with this guardian.' He gestured to the fey'ri warriors and the demons who accompanied them. 'Destroy the guardian.'
Nurthel stayed on the steps beside Araevin, watching his soldiers prowl into the room below, curved swords in their taloned fists. The vrocks followed, their vulture heads swinging from side to side on their long, wattled necks as they looked for their foe. The chamber was exactly as Araevin remembered it from the telkiira's vision, a large misty hall with shining silver pillars.
A sheet of purple lightning crackled out of the swirling fog, blasting through a vrock and two of the fey'ri. Crawling arcs of violet energy coruscated around the demonspawn, charring great black burns across their flesh. The fey'ri shrieked and fell writhing to the floor. The vrock attempted to teleport itself away from the deadly spell, only to reappear in a terrible burst of black gore, materializing in the exact same spot as one of the bright argent pillars.
'I see that you did not lie when you warned us of teleporting here,' Nurthel hissed. 'Is there anything you have kept from me, Araevin?'
Araevin opened his mouth to reply, but the mists parted, revealing a bright and terrible figure of silver light. Ghostly and yet powerful, the guardian seemed to be a beautiful moon elf maiden, her dark hair streaming around her head, her white robes fading into translucent starshine.
'Depart!' she demanded in Elvish, her clear voice strangely high and distant, as if she were speaking from far away. 'Depart, fiends! I will not suffer you to pass this chamber.'
In answer two of the fey'ri drew out wands of bronze and blasted the ghostly sorceress with crimson darts of magical power. The sorceress's features twisted with a cry of dismay, and her substance seemed to boil away from the holes punched by the fey'ri spells. She countered by seizing one of the wand-wielders in a viselike grip of unseen force and hurling him against the wall, leaving him crumpled across the chamber. At the same time she chanted out a piercing melody of her own, her arms weaving in the gestures of a spell, and she threw a charging mezzoloth screaming back into its native hells.
A second mezzoloth stalked close and rammed its brazen trident through the center of the ghost's torso, but the infernal weapon passed through her ethereal substance without so much as a ripple. She turned on the creature and wove a spiraling spell chain around it that sliced deep into its evil flesh, slowly cutting it to pieces. But the fey'ri with the wand struck again, riddling her with more of the crimson darts, while another fey'ri warrior-one with a sword glowing with enchantment-darted close to slash at her, tearing great rents in her misty form.
Araevin took half a step forward, intending to help her in some way, but Nurthel set a hand on his shoulder.
'Oh, no,' the fey'ri captain said. 'You are not to interfere.'
He wove a spell of his own and hurled a crackling azure lance of magical force at the ghost, driving a bolt of arcane power through the center of her form.
The ghost wailed in deathless agony, transfixed by Nurthel's spell, her substance fraying away from the wound. She fixed her dissipating gaze on Araevin.
'Do not lead them any farther,' she whispered. 'Do not let them do this!'
'We do not intend to give him much choice in the matter,' Nurthel laughed.
He drew back his spell lance, and rammed it through the center of the ghost's forehead. There was a great, silent burst of spectral energy, blindingly bright, and the ghost discorporated into streamers of mist and vapor that faded to nothing. The fey'ri laughed as he allowed his spell to end, subsuming the crackling lance back into his hand.
'How long has she waited here to turn us away, only to fail in her duty at the end?' Nurthel said. 'It seems almost tragic, doesn't it?'
Araevin refused to answer. He was under no compulsion to reply to rhetorical questions. Nurthel folded his arms and looked him in the face.
'Well? What now?'
'There is a portal in the far wall. Touching it will transport one directly to the chamber of the selukiira, which is a sealed sphere of stone some distance beneath our feet. I must first wake it by casting a special spell.'' Araevin hesitated, but Sarya's spell forced him to continue. 'If you, or any creature with evil intent, touches the portal, you will be destroyed.'
'Could that be dispelled?'
'It would be difficult, and you would deactivate the portal, so that you could no longer reach the selukiira chamber safely,' Araevin admitted. 'As your demon ally demonstrated, teleporting here is dangerous.'
'That does present a problem,' Nurthel said. 'Fortunately, we have you, so I need not test my intentions against the standards set by the ancient paleblood wizard who built this place, or settle for excavating my way to the Nightstar. You will go get the Nightstar for me. Can you do that?'
'Yes,' Araevin admitted, though it turned his stomach to say it.
'And what if the selukiira's touch destroys you?'
'The device would take possession of my body. It would likely seek to return itself to your hands.'
'I like the sound of that,' Nurthel said. 'You have caused me no end of trouble over the last few months, even when you were unwittingly doing our work. I can think of no fitter end for you.' The fey'ri studied him closely, and asked, 'Do you know of any reason why I would not want to send you to retrieve the Nightstar?' 'No.'
'Very well, then. Show me this portal.'
Araevin led Nurthel across the mist-filled hall, flanked by the surviving demons and fey'ri. With all the power of his will and heart he tried again to throw off Sarya's spell and regain his freedom, but for all his effort his feet still carried him forward without hesitation, and his hands remained shackled behind him. Evidently the potential hazard of the selukiira was simply not immediate enough to give him the chance to overthrow the spell of dominion. On the wall opposite the stairway, a large design of silver inlaid in the stone depicted Selune and the diamondlike Tears trailing behind it.
'I must have my hands free to use the portal and retrieve the Nightstar,' Araevin said.
Nurthel undid his bonds, watching carefully for any sign that Sarya's compulsion was weakening.
'You will use the portal to reach the selukiira chamber,' the fey'ri said. 'You will then take the Nightstar and bring it back here to me. Do not do anything except what I have instructed you to do. If something prevents you from accomplishing this task, you will return immediately for further instructions. Now go.'
Araevin longed to rub his wrists and shake the stiffness from his arms, but the fey'ri's orders left him no latitude even for so simple an act. He chanted the words of the secret spell taught him by the three telkiira, the only spell that could awaken the portal. The silver diagram inlaid in the stone woke to life, glowing with white fire. Then he reached out and touched three of the Tears, avoiding the silver stars that would have triggered all manner of deadly spells. He felt the ancient magic awake beneath his fingers and snatch him away from the silver hall.
Seiveril stood in the silent grove, eyes closed, his face tilted up to the sky, and listened for Corellon Larethian's whispers in his heart. The wooded hillside was a remote place indeed, old and wild, a small outpost of the strange and ancient Forgotten Forest that lay two days' march behind him. The trees were gnarled and stooped like senescent men, tangled with beards and hoary coats of moss, and somewhere deep in their old black hearts they dreamed of days when their fathers stood wakeful and alert across all of northern Faerun, a single unbroken forest. Not even the elves were welcome beneath their branches.
Seiveril felt the warm glow of other elf minds nearby, the Seldarine knights and clerics of Vesilde Gaerth's Golden Star order. As the soldiers best equipped with the magic needed to fight off demonic assaults, the knights
