Bruce Cordell - Key of Stars

He whimpered, and tried to crawl away, but the hound stepped on his leg, pinning him with an unholy weight. Its button-black eyes bored into his.

Why wasn’t he already dead? The hound growled, shifted its gaze to the locking plate, then back to the scribe. It was clear the hound wanted him to open the door.

It howled again, its volume twice as loud as before. The beast would rend the scribe limb from limb if he did not comply. Fear filled his belly like rancid wine, and despite the scribe’s resolve, fear won.

With another touch, the reading room door swung open.

His eyes found the eladrin’s.

“That was stupid,” the woman said.

She gestured. Cold air blew his hair straight back before a flurry of white engulfed him. Icy pinpricks multiplied across his skin like hundreds of tiny mouths. He screamed, and the cold found entry.

Tamur the shadow hound licked at the twisted remains of the Candlekeep scribe. The icy death stroke had left a sour taste on the corpse. Tamur was used to the flavor. It was a taste it had learned to relish.

“I was hoping to sup a little on that one,” said the Lord of Bats. He glanced at the dead body, and his nose crinkled. “Now you’ve ruined him.”

“Too bad,” said Malyanna as she pulled a crumbling codex from the shelf. “Ah, yes,” she continued. “This looks promising.”

“Is it a way to reinvigorate the Dreamheart, so you can try the ritual yet a third time?” asked Neifion.

“No,” she replied.

The bald man waited with arched eyebrows. His frown grew thunderous before the woman finally added, “Despite Xxiphu’s rise, I doubt waking the Eldest is possible while the warlock breathes.”

“Perfect!” Neifion said. “Let us go after Japheth immediately! You can reclaim the energy he stole, while I claim his soul for past debts.” The Lord of Bats smacked his lips.

“In good time,” replied Malyanna. “He is linked to the Dreamheart now; I can find your unwilling prodigal whenever I wish. But my study here takes precedence.”

Neifion watched the hound at its messy repast for several heartbeats. Then he said, “What takes precedence, if not waking the Eldest, as you’ve been so intent on doing since you approached me? The time has come for you to explain yourself.”

Malyanna looked up from her tome. “Do you think so?”

The Lord of Bats narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

Tamur’s hackles rose.

“Then pay attention,” said Malyanna. “I’ve dropped enough hints. But since you seem too thick to put things together …”

The man motioned for her to continue.

“I thought I had to rouse the Eldest so he could take up the Key of Stars,” she continued. “You remember?”

“I believe you said it was something the Sovereignty made,” Neifion replied.

“The Key of Stars was a relic forged when the Abolethic Sovereignty fell into the world. When the Eldest finds and takes up the Key, it can travel to the Temple of the Outer Void. There, with Key in hand, the Eldest can usher in an age of wonder and glory unlike Toril has ever seen.” Her eyes sparkled like the light of a dying star.

“But you can’t rouse the Eldest-,” said Neifion.

“And I may not need to,” replied Malyanna. “I’ve had an insight. I aim to bypass the craggy old aboleth. Let it sleep. I shall find the Key of Stars myself!”

“I see,” said Neifion. “I hope you’re not playing me for a fool. Because I get the impression there is much you’re still not telling me. For instance, what’s all this with temples and outer voids, and ages of wonder? You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“All I have said is true,” the woman said. She closed the book and smiled.

The hound judged its owner and Neifion would not immediately go for each other’s throats, and returned to its snacking. It kept one ear cocked just in case.

The room shuddered. A distant call of horns, high and pure, sounded somewhere overhead. Despite the stone and iron that encased the secluded reading room, the notes clearly penetrated.

“Better hurry,” said the Lord of Bats. “Something gathers against us above. I sense a force more potent than scribes and children in librarian’s garb.”

“I’m done,” Malyanna replied. “This tome has the answers I sought. Already it’s given me something to go on. The Key of Stars is in Faerun! Or at least it lies in a splintered echo … And I know where.”

“Splintered echo?” the Lord of Bats said. He shook his head. “Never mind, because I just had a grand idea, if you’ll indulge me?”

Malyanna waited.

“Since you know where to find your Key,” continued Neifion, “let’s visit the warlock on the way. No, let me finish-If it turns out this crumbling book is out of date, and you can’t actually locate the Key of Stars, your original plan will return to the fore; with the Dreamheart rejuvenated, you’ll be able to rouse the Eldest with no time wasted.”

“You don’t care about the Sovereignty or the Key,” accused Malyanna.

“No. Why would I? You’ve kept too many secrets, my lovely. I suspect you hold close even more, none of which I’m likely to find comforting when they come to light.”

“You should show more reverence for what the Sovereignty offers,” the eladrin said.

“I am your ally; that’ll have to suffice,” Neifion replied. “Let us find Japheth, end his life, and we’ll both be the better for it. I’ll have a favorite new homunculus to play with, and you’ll be able to give the Sovereignty its lord, if necessary.”

Malyanna frowned. “Perhaps my pride has obscured my oaths,” she said. “If I, rather than the Eldest, open the Far Manifold, the benefits I shall reap would be unthinkable, compared to what I could expect as a simple intermediary. But … I am pledged to the Sovereignty. Your logic may be correct.”

“Of course it is.”

The eladrin tucked the codex into the crook of one arm. Her other arm shot up. A fingtertip brushed Neifion’s forehead.

A smell of flash-cooked meat drew an instinctual growl of yearning from Tamur. The Lord of Bats also growled as claws ripped through the ends of his fingers. His voice dropped an octave as he said, “You dare!?”

“Your argument has convinced me,” said Malyanna. “I have given you the means to track Japheth. The mark will lead you to him. Now we can split our efforts. Better yet, you’ll no longer be underfoot. Your presence annoys me.”

Tamur edged closer, readying himself to spring between the half-transformed Lord of Bats and his mistress.

A greenish symbol writhed on Neifion’s forehead. He raised a clawed hand and rubbed at the mark. It squirmed away from direct contact.

“I’ll forgive this insult, Malyanna,” said Neifion. “Because … I can smell Japheth.”

The Year of the Secret (1396DR)

New Sarshell, Impiltur

Raidon Kane’s sandals crunched on gravel and dried dung. Tables, gaping doors, and overhanging balconies pressed in on either side of the cobblestone way. The morning sun lent the stone walls an eye watering clarity. Wine churned in Raidon’s stomach, trying to find its own equilibrium.

How had it come to wine? Tea was the drink that used to bring him comfort. But last night even West Lake Dragon Well had left him hollow. Despite Angul’s punishing sparks, he’d ordered a bottle, and hit the city streets. How long ago had that been?

A gale of music issued from a two-story inn to Raidon’s left. It was a simple drinking song, ridiculous on its face, yet scores of voices contributed.

The sound of effortless happiness scraped at his ears. He frowned. He’d been wandering the “bad side” of town to avoid such reminders of normal life. With the bottle of red in his hand, he’d been trying to besot himself all the previous evening. For a while, the road had threatened to spin beneath his feet, and he thought he’d achieved his goal.