Troy Denning: The Siege

Escanor's copper-glowing eyes flared. "How am I wrong, elf?" He began to wade toward them, a bugbear-sized silhouette limned in silver spell-light "Explain."

Galaeron looked as though he were about to answer, then he cocked his head and, passing within a lance-length of an astonished shadow lord, vanished through a breach in the curtain. Vala followed as quickly as she was able, but the steel greaves on her shins made her slow. Escanor, swimming as well, beat her through the gap. She cringed at what was likely to follow. One did not ignore a prince of Shade Enclave.

Vala passed through the gap and found them standing close together in the shallows, Galaeron's lean form submerged to the waist and Escanor's to the knees. Like all the shadow lords, the prince was swarthy and powerful, with a mouthful of ceremonial fangs and a long, raw-boned face that lent a demonic aura to an already otherworldly mystique. They were standing close together, speaking intensely but quietly.

"… are spell collectors," Galaeron was saying. He sounded less irrational but just as intense. "They haven't attacked because they want to watch the Splicing." "You suggest they're spying on us?" Escanor asked.

"If I can learn to use shadow magic, why can't the phaerimm?" Galaeron replied. "If they understand it, they control it."

"What you say stands to reason, as far as it goes." Escanor glanced over as Vala touched bottom beside them, then looked back to Galaeron. "But if the phaerimm were here, we would have detected their magic. They cannot hide that from us."

"Only phaerimm know what the phaerimm can do," Galaeron said. He was looking past the prince into the darkness, studying it as though he could find the enemy by sheer force of will. "And only a fool would believe otherwise."

Escanor's eyes brightened to a fiery red. "Watch that tongue, elf. A shadow crisis excuses only so much."

Vala slipped between the two, placing her back to Escanor and raising a hand to silence the elf before he could make a retort. "Galaeron, you know better. The Shadovar have killed more phaerimm than all of Evereska's High Mages together, and Prince Escanor has slain three personally. If there is a fool here, it is the one who speaks to him as though he were some Waterdhavian pikesman on his first march beyond the city gate."

The rebuke shocked Galaeron into silence, for Vala was the one person in the world whose loyalties he could never question, the one person in the world who could break through the Change to tell him such things. Together, they had traveled the dark pathways of the shadow fringe, fought beholders, liches, and illithids, seen their friends and comrades die in ways horrible beyond imagining. Vala had stood fast through everything and nursed him back to health when all was done, and that had connected her to his true nature in a way no shadow crisis could obstruct.

Galaeron continued to stare past Vala and Escanor into the darkness for a long time, then finally shifted his gaze back to the Vala and said, "I didn't mean to imply that the Shadovar are anything but the finest warriors." He looked to Escanor, but his eyes retrained distant and dark. "The prince is right. If the phaerimm were using magic to conceal themselves, I'm sure your divination spells would reveal where they're hiding."

Galaeron held Escanor's gaze a moment, then glanced toward the cave ceiling.

The prince seemed oblivious. "Good." His eyes did not even stray from Galaeron's face. "We're almost done with the Splicing. Evereska need hold only a few months longer, elf. The phaerimm are doomed."

"My city is grateful for the aid of Shade Enclave, Prince, but it would not do to underestimate our enemies." Galaeron furrowed his arched brows and again rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "I recall one of our high mages saying the same thing shortly before a phaerimm larva tore its way from his throat."

This drew only a condescending smirk from the prince. "When will you learn, elf? We are not your high mages." He reached over Vala to clap a huge hand on Galaeron's shoulder. "The Shadovar have been preparing for this war for centuries."

Vala barely heard this last part, for Galaeron's efforts had drawn her attention to the mass of limestone fangs hanging down overhead, each with a single drop of water clinging to its stony tip. With broad roots narrowing down to sharp points, the stalactites were shaped more or less like phaerimm, save that they lacked spiny hides and four thin arms. There were hundreds in the lit area alone. At only three to six feet, most were too short to be phaerimm, a few were so long their flattened tips actually touched the lake surface, but a handful hung down in the ten-foot range. It didn't take Vala long to locate three with suspiciously dry tips and odd dark lines where their bases pressed against the ceiling. "… that right, Vala?" Escanor asked.

"Is what right?" Hoping that all the blood had not drained from her face, Vala tore her gaze from the ceiling and tried to look calm. "Sorry."

Escanor cocked a disapproving brow but said, "I was just assuring Galaeron that we Shadovar were hardly likely to make the same mistake as the elves and Waterdhavians."

"I'm sure you won't," Galaeron said, still trying to draw the prince's gaze to the ceiling. "But new mistakes will prove-" "Rare, I'm sure," Vala said, taking Galaeron's arm.

The prince should have recognized the elf's signal, and they didn't dare push things too far. Once the phaerimm realized they were discovered, they would attack instantly-and there were few mistakes more grave than letting a phaerimm have the first blow.

"If you will excuse us, Prince," Vala said, "it's time we let you return to your work." Escanor dismissed them with an easy wave. "Of course."

Vala drew Galaeron away, her iron grasp permitting no argument. Once they were a few steps away, with their backs facing the suspicious stalactites, she released his arm and began to twist her hands through the gestures of Evereskan finger talk.

You're never going to get Escanor to look up. As Vala made the statement, she was careful to remain alert to any alien presences in her mind. The phaerimm were not so adept at telepathy that they could eavesdrop on a person's thoughts without revealing their own presence, but it never hurt to be careful-not around these enemies. Are you sure they were phaerimm?

No, Galaeron admitted, but it's better to be sure they aren't. You saw what I was looking at?

Disguised as stalactites, Vala said. Her tempo was slow and awkward, for it was a complicated language and she had only taken up its study as a way to pass the time while Galaeron lay immobile with a pair of broken ankles. Dry tips and a dark line where they're pressing their bases to the ceiling.

Galaeron raised his brow. I missed the lines, he said. We can't run the risk of alerting them. We have to take them ourselves.

Ourselves? Vala shook a fist downward to show emphasis. How?

You take the closest one, Galaeron instructed. Throw your sword. I'll blast the other with a shadow bolt.

Vala's fingers turned slow and clumsy. / thought you were done casting spells.

You have another way? Galaeron's gestures came so fast and sharp Vala could barely follow his meaning. Maybe you can convince Escanor he's wrong-without alerting the phaerimm?

The question required no answer. Vala knew as well as Galaeron that the prince could not be persuaded that he had made a mistake. They had no choice except to launch the attack on their own, and that meant Galaeron would have to use shadow magic to have any effect at all on the phaerimm, and using his shadow magic meant giving a little more of himself over to the darkness that was slowly devouring him from within.

Resigning herself to the heartache of watching the Galaeron she knew slip even deeper into shadows, Vala gave a curt nod, then asked, What about the third one? You're joking, Galaeron replied.