Ed Greenwood - All Shadows Fled

"We are," Storm agreed. "Elminster rode the shadows through their castle this afternoon, and tells me it is a place of confusion and back-stabbing disorder. Only three of them know what befell here, and plan any sort of revenge."

"Oh, joy," Belkram said, raising his tankard.

"Oh, joy, indeed," Storm said with a smile, turning from her cooking cauldron and crossing her arms. Itharr decided not to tell her that her ladle had decided to drip all down her hip. "That means, Harpers bold," she continued briskly, "that it's time for your next assignment."

Belkram choked, and brought his tankard down onto the table with a crash as he sputtered and coughed. There were titters from some of the other Knights at the table.

"Which is?" Itharr asked, giving his companion an amused look.

Storm noticed the spill, ran a finger up her hip, and licked it. "Aid embattled Randal Morn in Daggerdale," she told her ladle.

"A simple matter," Belkram said with airy dignity.

"Well, after battling Malaugrym, aye," Mourngrym agreed, "but you'll no doubt have the lord-devouring Sir Tantor and Luthtor's war wizards to contend with." Shaerl dealt her lord's shoulder a mock blow, and he put an arm around her with a chuckle.

"Does this mean your students are taught, and they'll be leaving Shadowdale?" Sharantyr asked quietly.

Storm nodded. "It does."

Sharantyr swung her feet down from the table and stood up. "Then I have to tell all of you something." She looked around the table at the assembled Knights, from Florin and Dove at one end to Jhessail and her new apprentice, the shyly silent Irendue, at the other. "Whether it costs me my place among you or not, I will go with Belkram and Itharr… because"-her voice sank almost to a whisper, but she stared across the room at Elminster's encouraging smile, where he sat in a dark corner, and continued steadily-"I can't bear to be parted from them."

And as the room erupted with cries of "Well said!" "Of course!" and "A Knight forever, wherever you go!" the tears came.

Sharantyr leaned on the table and wept until two pairs of strong arms went around her, and Belkram and Itharr said into her ears in unison, "The Rangers Three-forever!"

The crystal ball glimmered, and Laeral turned away from it with misty eyes and a sigh of satisfaction. "She did the right thing," the lady mage of Waterdeep told Khelben happily. "She's following her heart."

"That's nice," Khelben said absently, his attention deep in a spell tome. Laeral looked at him, shook her head fondly, and grinned impishly as she rose.

Three gliding steps brought her to the table, and a little jump and turn brought her behind down firmly atop the open book, even before her arms went around her man in a fierce embrace.

She fondly kissed the balding pate of the lord mage of Waterdeep, and felt his muffled roar as he snarled into her bosom, "Get off! I said, get off!"

It was very late when the floating, disembodied head said to Elminster, "You promised me another body of my own, Old Mage."

"Aye," he said as they stood together in the dusty, paper-choked main room of his tower. "Would n-"

The front door flew open, startling them both, and a wild-eyed woman, garbed in the black tatters of a once fine gown, strode in. Without slowing, the Simbul smiled at Sylune, took Elminster's hand in her own, and practically snatched him up the stairs to the bedchamber.

"My body?" Sylune asked softly.

"It will be the first act I set him to when we awaken," the Simbul told her sister as they vanished around the first curve of the stair. "I'll see to it."

"Perhaps I should get to it now," Elminster's voice came floating down the stairs, sounding a trifle anxious.

"I have other uses for you first," the Simbul told him fiercely. "Gods, El, I've missed you!"

Her arms went around him hungrily. In the room below, Sylune listened, a smile growing on her face. Then she chuckled softly, and flew out into the night.

Lhaeo bid her a pleasant night as she drifted down the path. The floating head turned to face him. "Lhaeo? I thought you were abed!"

"I was," Elminster's scribe said dryly, "until the Queen of Aglarond arrived. Then I suddenly found myself dressed, awake, and out here-with this bottle of elverquisst to keep me company." He sipped at the glass in his hand and sighed appreciatively. "Superb stuff."

Sylune hesitated, looking out over the moon-drenched, placid pool toward the flickering torches on the walls of the Tower of Ashaba. "Would you mind if I stayed to talk for a bit?"

The scribe looked up at her. "Lady," he said softly, "I would be honored. Stay with me so long as it pleases you." He drained his glass and added slyly, "You can tell me what it's like to get a head in this world!"

The floating head growled at him. "You may be surprised to learn," the Witch of Shadowdale said sweetly as she drifted nearer, "that I can still tickle."

"Ah, no," Lhaeo said with a groan, putting his glass carefully out of harm's way. "No…"

The farmhouse shook, and the night outside was briefly as bright as day.

"What was that?" Mourngrym snarled.

There was a confused snatching at weapons and a rush to the door.

The Rangers Three, Storm, and the lord and lady of Shadowdale reached the flagstone path outside Storm's house in time to see a bright stream of stars rising from Elminster's Tower, in the wake of a radiant orb in which two familiar figures danced and swam. They heard a happy, wordless cry before the sphere that held Elminster and the Simbul turned suddenly and streaked away northward, into the stars.

"Gods above," Itharr said wonderingly. He turned his head and saw Sharantyr's awed face looking up into the sky beside his. Leaning close, he asked quietly, "Do you think we could try that?"

Still watching the distant sphere dwindle into the night, Sharantyr drew back her arm and punched him enthusiastically.

Shaerl and Storm hooted with laughter.

The moonlight of another night washed down over the ruined pillars and walls of Irythkeep. Itharr looked up at Selune, yawned, and said, "High time for slumber."

A slim lady rose from banking the fire beside him, took his chin in her hands, and kissed him fondly. "The watch is mine, of course, O King of Snorers," the Witch of Shadowdale told him, and patted his arm. "Go on."

"Are you sure?" Belkram asked sleepily, coming out of the tent with Sharantyr's leathers and his own, to drape them over a line for the night.

"I don't need to sleep, remember?" Sylune told him.

Both Harpers nodded, more asleep than awake, and said, more or less in chorus, "May the night be good, then." They turned together to go into the tent where Shar was already lost in slumber-and bumped together.

"Ugliness first," Belkram said, indicating the tent mouth.

"Stupidity first," Itharr countered, waving his friend toward the sleeping furs.

"Pigheaded Harpers first," a smiling Sylune said in both their ears, and shoved at their backs. They fell into the tent in a chuckling heap, and the Witch of Shadowdale turned away to look out over Daggerdale, a smile on her face.

"Sharantyr's first child, at least," Azuth said softly as the two gods stood together by the fire, magically hidden from mortals and Chosen, "will be thine."

Midnight nodded. "She'll need to be strong, and soon… magic may be biddable again, and the gods back in their places."

The goddess sighed then, and added almost in a whisper, "More than that: Elminster cannot last forever."