Richard Baker - Final Gate

The house itself was an old palace of white stone, long abandoned. Much of the place was open to the sky, and mighty trees hundreds of years old grew up through the ruined chambers. Weathered statues of old elflords Araevin had never been able to put a name to gathered moss in ivy-filled alcoves, strangely sad and wise in their decay. A palpable hush hung over the forgotten palace, so much so that it was hard to speak in anything but a whisper. Birdsong in the forest was rare and faint, as if the palace was not even really in the forest at all.

“What a sad place,” Maresa said softly, running her pale fingers over a smooth stone balustrade. “Who would hide magical doorways in a tomb like this?”

“Long ago, it was the residence of a grand mage of Illefarn,” Araevin said. “The great city of the kingdom stood not very far away, where Waterdeep now lies. Most of the doors in this palace were made long before it fell into ruin.”

“Somebody comes,” Nesterin said.

The star elf watched the dark doorway that had once served as the palace’s front door. A somber sun elf knight appeared from the shadows, stepping into the golden dusk that had settled over the courtyard. He was tall and dignified, dressed in a long hauberk of silver mail. His hair was silvered at the temple, and bound by a narrow gold circlet.

“I see you have returned to the House of Long Silences, Araevin,” the elflord said. He descended the steps and caught the mage’s hand in a firm grasp. “It is good to see you again. Much has happened in a very short time, I hear.”

Araevin offered a wry smile. “You don’t know the half of it, Elorfindar.”

“Then I look forward to hearing the tale from you.” Elorfindar’s eyes narrowed as he looked into Araevin’s face, and he did not release the mage’s arm from his grasp. “You have changed, Araevin. What has happened to you?”

“That is part of the tale.” Araevin stepped back and indicated his comrades. “Allow me to introduce my traveling companions. This is Maresa Rost of Waterdeep; she is the daughter of Theleda Rost, who traveled with me some years ago.”

“I remember,” Elorfindar said. The elflord was too polite to allow his surprise to show-Maresa did not resemble her mother much at all, since Theleda had been fully human, and Maresa was most definitely not. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“This is Donnor Kerth, a knight of the Order of the Aster and a servant of Lathander. This is Jorin Kell Harthan of Aglarond, and this is Nesterin Deirr, also of Aglarond.”

Elorfindar bowed to each in turn. “Come inside, my friends. Not all of the house is a cheerless ruin. You are welcome here.”

They left their mounts in the courtyard, where Elorfindar assured them they would be safe, and followed the elflord into the palace. Araevin had passed through the manor before, so he was ready for the eerie stillness of the place, but he felt his companions’ steps grow slow and troubled as they followed. Then they came to a comfortable chamber that seemed brighter and less gloomy. Elorfindar invited them to sit, while he set out ewers of water and wine, and laid out a small spread of food.

“Now, Araevin, I think I am ready to hear your tale,” he said.

“As you wish.” Araevin sat down on a low couch, while Elorfindar reclined on another and his companions found comfortable places of their own. He told the elflord of his desperate efforts to counter the daemonfey threat, while the elven Crusade sought to bring Sarya Dlardrageth and her minions to bay. “And so here I am,” he finished. “From Saelethil’s Nightstar I have learned that the Waymeet-the Last Mythal of Aryvandaar-may threaten all of Faerun. To address that threat, I must find the remaining pieces of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal and seal the Waymeet against Sarya and her ally Malkizid.”

Elorfindar examined the shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal with interest. “I can tell it is an old and powerful device,” he mused aloud. “I wonder… you said that the crystal is affiliated with the Waymeet?”

Araevin nodded. “If nothing else, the combined crystal allows its bearer to draw power from the Waymeet, no matter where he or she is. Its primary use is the sundering of wards, mythals, and other constructs of powerful magic.”

“And it flies apart into its component pieces after its power is employed?” Elorfindar handed the shard back to Araevin. “It seems to me that the crystal’s tendency to hurl itself across the multiverse is simply a reflection of its tie to the Waymeet. After all, the Waymeet touches on thousands of doorways spanning Faerun, Toril, and the planes. I’d wager that the crystal uses that same network of portals to scatter itself.”

“So its pieces would appear near gates leading back to the Waymeet?” Nesterin asked.

Elorfindar shrugged. “It is only a guess.”

“That means we only have to find the right portals, and the shards will be right there,” Donnor said.

Araevin shook his head. “You’re forgetting that we’ve had a couple of months now for someone to stumble across the shards and carry them off from wherever they first appeared. But if Elorfindar’s observation holds true, then we’ll find that the trail begins somewhere near a Waymeet portal’s terminus.”

“Not so useful, if there really are thousands of doorways in this Waymeet,” Jorin said. “But better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Do any of the doors in this house lead to the Waymeet?” Nesterin asked Elorfindar.

The elflord nodded. “I know of one that will take you there. I can show you now, if you like.”

“Might as well get to it,” Maresa said. She stood and buckled on her sword belt. “I’ve never liked waiting, anyway.”

Elorfindar led Araevin and his friends back into the silent halls of the house and turned down a shadowed corridor they had passed before. Every four paces, a tall blank doorway stood waiting. Each was nothing more than a stone lintel framing an empty place on the wall. Carvings of leaves and flowers, animals and scenes of nature graced each of the doors. The elflord passed several of the empty doors and stopped before one that was marked with a strange design of stars and dragons.

“This is it,” he said softly. “I have never ventured into the Waymeet, so I cannot tell you what to expect on the other side.”

“What do we do with our horses?” Donnor asked. “Do we take them with us, or do we leave them here?”

“Leave them for now,” Araevin decided. “We can come back for them if we need them on the other side.”

“I’ll have them looked after,” Elorfindar said. He touched his fingertips to the blank stone, and said a single word: “Elladar.” Beneath his fingers, the stone seemed to melt away into a roiling gray fog.

“Thank you, Elorfindar,” Araevin said. He nodded to his friends, and one by one they stepped into the fog and vanished.

“You need only repeat the password to activate the portal again,” Elorfindar said. “Good luck, Araevin.”

“Until we meet again, old friend.” Araevin clasped his hand quickly, and turn and followed Nesterin into the misty doorway. There was a momentary darkness, a sense of movement in some direction that was not forward, up, or down… and he emerged.

He stood in a cathedral of glass.

The sky overhead was dark and starless. Underfoot, the ground was a sort of gray shale. But all around him stood walls and spires of luminous white glass. Great arching ribs of the stuff curved and met in a web of frozen light above him. Elsewhere serried ramparts of pearl marched in curved, sloping walls. The air was cold and still, but the crystalline castle seemed to whisper and sing in a constantly changing susurrus of sound. Maresa, Donnor, Jorin, and Nesterin stood nearby, silently taking in the sight. Their breath steamed in the chilly air, and their eyes were wide and rapt.