Bruce Cordell - Key of Stars

“Sorry,” said the half-elf.

Anusha was halfway across the catacomb chamber before she remembered no one could see her.

The moment she rendered herself visible, the iron statue turned its head to look at her.

Words issued from it. “Anusha, is that you?” a familiar voice said.

Anusha recalled the image of a woman whose skin was mottled brown and yellow. “Yeva?” she said.

The statue looked down at its polished, metallic body, then raised its arms. “I’m not dead!” it said.

“Well, you ain’t alive, either,” interjected Thoster. “This is what you’ve been up to, warlock? Forging some kind of talking golem?”

“Yes,” Japheth said. “Well, after a fashion.”

Anusha and Yeva embraced, as well as was possible under the circumstances.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Anusha said. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“I was sure you wouldn’t,” the figure replied, laughing. “But how are you? I see you’re still in your dream form …”

“Yes, but I’m all right,” Anusha said. “I’m sleeping not far from here, up in my salon. But how do you feel?” She tapped Yeva’s iron body. The form shrugged its … no, her , shoulders.

“I feel alive,” Yeva said. “More than that, I can sense my body, and the world around me. What more could I ask for right now? All the possibilities the future holds remain open to me.”

Yeva turned to Japheth. “Thank you,” she said.

Japheth smiled and bowed.

“Is someone going to explain what’s going on down here?” said the captain.

“This is Yeva,” Anusha said. “She was a captive in the aboleth city like me.”

Yeva took a step toward Thoster. Her motion was entirely fluid. “Japheth salvaged my mind from Xxiphu along with Anusha’s,” she said. “But my body died a long time ago. I had no vessel to return to. Your warlock friend crafted me a new one!”

Yeva’s face was a mask of silver, but Anusha imagined she could almost see the woman smile. Words flavored by a smile sounded brighter.

“How odd,” said Seren.

“Very well,” Thoster said. “Japheth put the mind of Anusha’s acquaintance in this iron shell. Seems extravagant, but who’m I to say? By the look of it, he managed the transfer none too soon.” The captain cast his gaze at Raidon.

The monk scowled.

“But that doesn’t explain what Japheth’s old friend was doing down here,” the captain continued.

The warlock’s smile dropped. “The Lord of Bats has an overdeveloped sense of vengeance,” he said.

“How’d he find you?” Anusha said. “Your pact with him is broken, right?”

“Malyanna helped him,” said Japheth. “The eladrin noble remains Neifion’s ally, apparently. The sigil on Neifion’s brow reeked of Dreamheart influence.”

“The Dreamheart you gave her,” said Raidon.

Japheth shook his head. “We’ve been over this,” he said. “Anusha, and Yeva too, would be dead and consumed if I had done any less!”

Silence descended. Glares were traded around the room.

“I’m calling another tea-early this time,” Anusha finally said, “just two bells after sunrise tomorrow. Please, everyone attend. We must talk about Xxiphu, and the responsibility each of us bears for its appearance over Faerun.”

“Hey!” said Seren. “I-”

“We’ll discuss what we can do to sink it once more,” Anusha said.

Without waiting to gauge the response of her statement, she allowed her dream to lapse.

The Year of the Secret (1396 DR)

Watch on Forever’s Edge, Feywild

Taal pulled the sack beneath an empty sky. The two bodies weighed the bag down. The fabric whispered as he hauled it along the uneven stones that flagged the tower’s zenith.

He hauled the bundle to the parapet’s edge. The void’s sprinkle of stars only accentuated its emptiness. He squatted, lifted the body bag, then heaved it over the edge.

Instead of plummeting down, the burlap mass fell outward, directly away from the tower. No matter how many times he’d launched objects off the edge, Taal was always fascinated by the way the void pulled all things to itself.

The slowly rotating sack, illuminated by the watchtower’s lights, receded at a steady rate. Its shape grew smaller with distance. Finally the encroaching darkness consumed it.

“Good-bye, Lady Eloar. Farewell, Lord Dramvar. I’m sorry-”

A low growl from his totem tattoo warned Taal he was no longer alone.

He turned.

A torch flared. In the wavering shadow of a merlon, Malyanna and her hound were revealed.

“Taal, I return,” she said. Her skin glimmered like a sheet of glacier ice.

He bowed. “Welcome back to the Spire of Winter’s Peace, my lady,” he said. “Where is your new friend?”

“Neifion and I are allied only so long as our interests intersect,” Malyanna replied. “The warlock Japheth, who I described to you, is someone both of us want dead. I set the Lord of Bats on Japheth’s scent.”

“I hope he enjoys success,” Taal said.

Malyanna shrugged. “What did you just discard?” she asked. “Looked bulky.”

Taal filled his lungs with the frigid air. “Lord Dramvar and Lady Eloar came calling,” he said. “When they discovered you gone, they invoked the Articles of the Compact.”

Malyanna frowned. “Were you able to …,” she said, trailing off as Taal shook his head no.

“I couldn’t dissuade them,” he said. “Only one way remained to defend your secrets.”

“The Master and Mistress of Summer Mist were in the bag you just launched?” Malyanna asked.

Taal bowed assent.

“Are you trying to undermine me?” said Malyanna, her voice quiet but sharp as a razor.

“I remain true to my oath,” replied Taal. “If you think I’ve done anything other than preserve your interests, remove me from your service.”

The shadow hound slunk from behind Malyanna and stared at Taal. Its eyes were avid with hunger.

Malyanna snorted. “I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said. “No. I’ll dispatch messengers to Summer Mist. I can replicate Eloar’s handwriting. Apparently, she and Dramvar have decided to enjoy Winter’s Peace for an extended visit.”

“No need,” Taal said. “I’ve already dispatched messengers. They plan on enjoying our company for a full tenday.”

A smile stretched the eladrin noble’s face. “I can always count on you, can’t I?”

“It seems so.”

Taal regarded the warden of Winter’s Peace. Like Eloar and Dramvar, Erunyauve of the Spire of the Moon, Karsalvan of Spring Bloom, and the others, Malyanna shouldered a terrible responsibility at Forever’s Edge.

A responsibility she had abnegated so utterly she was a cancer in reality’s bulwark. It didn’t bear thinking on too long.

“What did you learn?” Taal asked. “What is the disposition of the … risen city?”

The woman nearly danced with glee. “Xxiphu is a new moon over Toril, an omen of what will come,” she said. “Even now, it begins to harvest Faerun’s dreams.”

“The Eldest is waking?” Taal said, alarm nearly making his voice quaver.

“No. It is caught in the transition; I told you that,” Malyanna replied. “The Eldest’s mind is trapped on the edge of consciousness.”

“Then why are you so ebullient?”

“Because I know where to find the Key of Stars!”

Taal rubbed his chin. “Without the Eldest, what good will that do?” he said. “Your prophecy indicates-”

Malyanna waved away his protest. “If Neifion kills the warlock, the Eldest might throw off slumber,” she replied. “Japheth thieved some essential essence from the Dreamheart before he left it behind. If that essence is released, it could well enliven Xxiphu’s lord. So, if I can find the Key of Stars in the meantime, I’ll have saved the Eldest time dredging up the Key itself.”