Steven Schend - Blackstaff

The red and white berries were inset rubies and moonstones, and all shimmered with power. "Issylmyth's Bracer should never be worn by the likes of you." Khelben said, his voice a harsh whisper as he knelt by his granddaughter and closed her eyes. "You have slain blood of my blood, and you shall answer for it." Khelben rested the rod on Syndra's corpse, its head bloody from her thawing wounds. "Don't call me boy! I will make you say my name, old man, and give me the respect I deserve." The man lashed his arms forward, his rings adding magical power to his casting. Blue-white claws of energy reached toward Khelben, growing larger as they approached him. Khelben stared into his foe's eyes while he dispelled the magical attack. "One cannot command respect nor can one expect it from a vainglorious appellation.

One earns respect with deeds and mettle." "Deeds and mettle, spell-shatterer?" The wizard scoffed. "Your own granddaughter lies there dead. My deeds say enough." "Indeed," Khelben snapped. "From the moment of her birth, I knew of Syndra's sad fate but knew neither the cause nor the instigator until moments ago. It saddens me that your petty vanities and overinflated sense of worth brought you to this, little Rakesk." Khelben paced around the glowing chamber, keeping distant from both the glowing walls and his foe at its center. His detection spell continued, and he tried to glean as much information as he could about the wizard's defensive shields. "You never mentioned you were an oracle, Khelben. You always were a miser with your secrets. That's why I had to journey to Shoonach to grasp the power that was my due! Once I've slain you as well and claimed your tower, I shall reign over Waterdeep!" "Boast less, cast more, fool." Khelben snapped, as he unleashed tight streams of purple flames from each of his fingertips and arced them to stab at his foe from all sides. The vain wizard smiled smugly as the flames flattened and died against a pyramidal shaped spell-shield. The glow of the crystalline ceiling repeated the kaleidoscopic colors in its own energies overhead.

Khelben allowed himself a tight-lipped smile. "At least your shields are worthy of respect. Tell me, does the room dictate their form or your will?" "My will is not lacking, Sunderspell, though the room aids me. One secret Syndra didn't know about these pyramids is their ability to hone and focus magical fields. I doubt even you could shatter my defenses now, Arunsun! They only break when I ask them, thus!" The four sides of the spell pyramid around Rakesk tipped upward then launched themselves at Khelben. The archmage managed to dispel two of the whirling planes, but the latter two stabbed into his right thigh and his lower back, their energies leeching into him after drawing blood. Khelben screamed and fell backward, his body spasming from the spell's fluctuating energies. "Overconfidence must run in your bloodline, Arunsun. I felled Syndra with that same spell. A pity, as it's hardly one of my signatures, like this." The man stood and raised his hands high. Khelben strained to counterspell the magic but failed. He couldn't overcome the last effects of the previous spell.

Rakesk completed his casting, and smiled coldly as a pillar of blue fire engulfed Khelben in icy flames. Khelben screamed anew, cursing himself for his weakness. Behind Khelben and Rakesk both, the duskwood rod and its gems glowed and shimmered. Unnoticed by the gloating wizard, the rod twitched and slowly rose from the bloodied corpse.

Trailing an opalescent mist, it swung silently, almost hesitatingly, in the air. After two swings, the rod looped back and brought itself down in a powerful blow to Rakesk's head. The impact forced the bronze circlet into the man's scalp and face as it bent down over his left eye, scoring his left cheek and right temple as the circlet tipped on his brow. Rakesk screamed in pain and anger, his sight temporarily blocked by blood flowing over his eyes. As he turned to face his unseen attacker, the rod swung again, and the bones in Rakesk's right wrist and arm crunched audibly. The diamond ring on that hand fell, and the impact knocked loose Issylmyth's Bracer. Khelben propped himself up on one elbow and chuckled as Rakesk howled in pain and recoiled from the hovering rod. "That's a very singular weapon, boy.

Its usual trick is to revisit pains on its victims both physically and magically. It repeats the pain of the worst hurts in your body or mind while also dealing its own hurts. Makes it very useful against overbearing warriors. Still, its greatest talent is to allow the spirits of the recently slain one last chance to avenge themselves upon their killers." While Khelben spoke, the glow around the rod had steadily increased and outlined the slim figure of a human woman, the fury on her face belying the peacefulness of her own corpse at her feet. "Thank you for this chance, grandfather." The ghostly mists mouthed the words but the voice rang out from the rod itself.

"Unfortunate you didn't know how far your former pupil had fallen before he killed me." "Apologies with deepest sorrows, a'a'sum,"

Khelben said, a lone tear burning down his hoar-frosted cheek. "We all play our roles as our Lady bids us. Now play yours in rightful vengeance."

29 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Tsarra's eyes snapped open as she awoke. She sat up and shook her head to clear the glittering fog in front of her eyes, to no avail. In sympathy with the vision she had just endured, her right thigh and lower back ached painfully. The noises of combat did focus her concentration. She heard loud snarling-the tressym-and shouts-Khelben's voice immediately in front of her, and at least four others around her. She also heard a horrifying sound she couldn't identify-a raspy hiss coupled with a high keening tone like a rabbit's scream. She didn't know what he was fighting, but she could feel the tressym angrily battling to "protect mistressfriend like young."

Khelben yelled, "Get back, fool! Enough have died already tonight."

The unknown person replied, "I can help you, Master!"

"Not against that you can't. Just do what you can to keep the inn from collapsing atop us."

Khelben's voice intoned in Tsarra's head, but without the ringing in her ears she had before: Good. You're awake. Stay down until I say.

I'm blind, Khelben! Tsarra tried to control her panic, but she started shaking even as she sent.

His response was cold, but she could sense his concern as well.

Explanations later. Don't distract me now.

She could hear him beginning a spell, wherever he was, so she took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. That exercise cleared her vision slightly, and she could see vague outlines.

Tsarra reached out and felt the wood floor and what she guessed was an overturned table or a fallen door against which she was lying.

She felt an odd tingling around her middle again and realized she could see a glow-blue sparks wreathed her body, centered on the golden belt she wore beneath her armor. She remembered being surprised when she first donned it, and it seemed to merge with her skin. Looking around at the detritus around them, she realized the sparks provided some protection.

Khelben's spellcasting ended with a sound that reminded Tsarra of shattering glass and a shield bouncing downhill. Whatever it was, she didn't recognize it, but it stilled the odd roaring by the large creature that fought Khelben.

Tsarra pushed herself up on her elbows and realized she wasn't alone-someone lay next to her against the wall, breathing unevenly.

Tsarra blinked a few times in rapid succession and cleared her eyesight. She looked and found a dark skinned bald man whose face, neck, and chest were heavily blistered and bleeding, his left eye blasted away. She flashed back to the day she found her father dead in the Ardeep Forest with similar wounds.