Troy Denning - The Summoning

Khelben paced at the foot of Imesfor's bed, two steps then turn, two steps then look, two steps then turn. To the mage's eye, the elf looked no better than the day he had arrived, save that he no longer had an illithid tentacle probing the hole in his skull. The lord's gaze was glassy and vacant, with a raccoon's mask of purple bruises ringing his eyes, and his sunken cheeks were as pallid as ivory. An inert tongue lolled out of his mouth with no indication it would ever speak again, much less soon.

Khelben took two impatient steps, turned, stopped, then looked to the aradoness leaning over the stricken lord. "You've been with him for nearly two days. When will he speak?"

The elf priestess fixed Khelben with a black-eyed glare. "Your concern for your friend is touching. Bear in mind that it is just that concern that will keep his spirit in his body."

"Lord Imesfor and I have been friends nearly five centuries," growled Khelben. "He knows how I feel about him- and I know how he feels about Evereska. If he knew what was happening there-

"He does know," said the priestess, Angharradh Odaeyns. "Isn't that why you're trying to wake him?"

Khelben gave her a black look. "You know what I mean. If he knew we couldn't get near the place…" He let the sentence trail off, then ran his palm into the canopy post so hard he shook the whole bed. "Cloudblast!" Laeral slipped a hand through the crook of his arm. "Perhaps we should try another tact, Khelben." She pulled him to the side of the bed opposite Angharradh, then used a cantrip to pull a chair across the room for him. "It was you Gervas came to see. Perhaps if you-"

"Lady Blackstaff, I don't think that wise." Angharradh started around the bed. "A human touch is not the same. There is no emotional tie."

"Really?" Laeral fixed the elf with an icy stare. "Then why did he come to Khelben instead of Queen Amlaruil?"

The question staggered the proud Gold elf as no blow could have. "I'm sure there was a reason." She stopped at the foot of the bed to think of one. "Perhaps the mind flayer-"

"All we know is that he came to see Lord Blackstaff," Laeral interrupted. She looked to Khelben. "I see no harm in letting him know you're here. Speak to him as though he were awake. Tell him what's been happening."

Khelben's first thought was that Laeral was proposing a monumental waste of time, but he didn't say so. Laeral was the one person he never snapped at-well, that he tried never to snap at-and he was accomplishing little enough otherwise. He had tried to teleport into the Sharaedim a dozen times, only to find himself hip-deep in some stinking marsh or sliding down a searing sand dune, so far from his goal he could not even see the mountains, much less find out what was happening in Evereska.

Khelben took Lord Imesfor's hand. "Old friend, it's not going well. In truth, it's going damn poorly I know you came here in need of help, but you've got to help me. I can't seem to get anywhere near Evereska-"

"Fie… ream." The word slipped from Imesfor's lips so faint and wispy that Khelben thought he had imagined it.

Angharradh gasped, then rushed to the far side of the bed and looked into Imesfor's eyes. His gaze seemed to focus on her, then went glassy again.

Khelben felt Laeral's hand push him toward the elf. "Keep talking."

Khelben leaned over his old friend. "Fie who? What's wrong in Evereska?" Imesfor's eyes came back into focus. "Fieream!" "Fieream?" Khelben repeated, then it hit him. "They did this to you?" Imesfor shook his head. "Not phaerimm… to me. illithid."

"We know about the illithid." Khelben glanced to Laeral. "Do a sending."

Laeral nodded. "Already done. Elminster will be here-" She was interrupted by the soft crack of a teleport spell. "Now"

Still stinking of the pipe smoke in his study, Elminster stood in the center of the room, blinking and wobbling as he struggled to reorient himself to his new surroundings. Suppressing the irritation he felt at the showy display of power (Elminster being the only wizard on Toril who could defeat Khelben's wards and teleport directly into Blackstaff Tower), Khelben motioned the wizard over. "Over here. He's just coming around."

The sound of Khelben's voice helped the wizard orient himself, and he stepped to the bed. "Gervas, ye look like something a carrion worm spit out."

Laeral slapped Elminster on the shoulder. "Be nice. Lord Imesfor isn't alert enough for raw wit."

"I'm alert enough to know… that awful fireweed smell." Imesfor tried to push himself into a sitting position, then winced and settled for keeping his eyes open. "My thanks for coming, Stinkbeard."

"My thanks for being alive when I arrived," Elminster said. "Now why don't ye tell us how that hole in your head came to be?" "We were fleeing the phaerimm-" "The phaerimm?"

Elminster looked to Khelben, who could only shrug and say, "It's the first I've heard about it, but who else could ward the entire Sharaedim against transport magic?"

"1 can think of a few-any two of which would be preferable to the phaerimm," Elminster said darkly.

Gervas's eyes grew concerned. "You don't know?" He looked to Angharradh. "How is that possible?" The priestess looked away. "It wasn't my decision." "But you are from Evermeet?" the elf pressed.

Angharradh nodded. "1 was told this is an elf problem." She cast an uneasy glance toward Khelben and Elminster, then leaned closer to Imesfor. "Evereska is our last bulwark on the continent. The Island Council feared that the humans would seize this opportunity to claim it for their own."

"What?" Khelben was so angry he nearly teleported over to strangle the priestess. At least that explained the stream of mages and warriors that had been emerging from the basement of Blackstaff Tower all day. There was an elf gate down there that allowed elves to pass freely between Waterdeep and Evermeet, and it had been in nearly constant use since he had asked Queen Amlaruil to send a healer for Lord Imesfor. "Evereska is being overrun by phaerimm, and your people are worried about humans?" "Evereska is hardly being overrun," said Angharradh.

"It is!" Imesfor said. "Not yet the vale, but our armies are gone." He turned from the priestess, who had gone nearly as pale as he, to Khelben. They took us from behind, and when we tried to flee… it was unthinkable. I would have been dead, save for Melegaunt and his humans." "Melegaunt?" asked Khelben.

"A shadow-shaper, involved in breaching the Sharn Wall," explained Imesfor. He looked to Angharradh. "Surely, the council passed that much along?" The priestess shook her head. "They did not even tell me."

"Then perhaps ye would be kind enough to tell them something for me." Elminster rounded the bed to place himself between Lord Imesfor and the priestess. 'Tell them the council would do well to recall how many friends the elves truly have among men-lest they chase them all off with their boneheadedness!" Angharradh's eyes widened. "I couldn't possibly-"

"Ye could and ye shall." Elminster shooed her toward the door. "And be quick about it, before I make a caryatid of ye!"

Laeral held the door. "I suggest you hurry You know how rash and impatient we humans can be."

Angharradh glanced toward Lord Imesfor, but before she could ask what he wished, there came a knock at the door. "Speak!" Khelben commanded.

"Milord Blackstaff," came young Ransford's nervous voice. "Lord Piergeiron seeks a word with you about the unusual number of elves that seem to be gathering in the city." "Send word that I will attend him the moment I am free."

"1 would rather discuss the matter now, Khelben," came the warden's deep voice. The door opened, and the towering form of Piergeiron Paladinson ducked beneath the lintel. They are threatening to buy up every last horse in the city"