Troy Denning - The Summoning

Melegaunt gave him a dark smile. "It already has, elf. It was never our intention to loose the phaerimm on your city- and they remain more our enemy than yours. There is no need to worry on that account."

Galaeron turned to Jhingleshod. "My promise stands as before."

Jhingleshod studied Galaeron for a moment, then nodded. "Do not fail me, I warn you."

He went to the crawlway Takari had discovered and swung through feet first, his body erupting into a cloud of dust as it passed through the green barrier. Galaeron and the others looked at each other with dropped jaws.

Finally, Takari said, "An illusion. This lich is a very clever one, indeed."

She stepped over to the passage and swung her legs through the opening, then vanished in a cloud of dust Galaeron went next and found himself plummeting into a high, silver-lit cavern. He glimpsed a colonnade of curved pillars arcing up to a central support, then splashed into a pool of foul-smelling liquid the color and consistency of quicksilver. A small hand caught him by the hair and dragged him to one side just as Vala hit beside him. Next came Melegaunt, fluttering down on the magic of a slow-fall spell, and Malik plummeted into the pool screaming.

A moment later, the group found itself standing waist-deep in a silvery pond, staring across a mirror-bright surface at a luminous white boulder the size Malik's horse. From a jagged crack in the center poured a steady stream of the shimmering fluid, filling the pool and slowly disappearing down a whirlpool at the far end. As the liquid swirled down the hole, it assumed a crimson tinge and began to steam, almost like blood.

"It's touching," said Takari, ever the romantic. "Karsus's heart bleeds for what he did."

"You might say that, though Karsus was too mad for true remorse," said Melegaunt. "The Weave filled him to bursting when he tried to steal Mystryl's godhead. What you see pouring from the Karsestone is all that remains of that ancient whole magic."

"Whole magic?" It was Malik who asked this. "Since when has magic been less than whole?"

"Since the Fall of Netheril," Galaeron surmised, thinking back to the tiresome texts he had studied at the Academy of Magic. After the fall, Mystryl had saved the Weave by reincarnating herself as Mystra, but the surviving archwizards had quickly discovered that without the goddess's direct intervention-a very rare occurrence indeed-they could no longer cast their most powerful spells. Most sages conjectured that Mystra was simply limiting magic to protect the Weave from another disaster, but Galaeron saw that another explanation made more sense-and explained the source of Melegaunt's cold magic. "It split," he said.

Melegaunt was too busy pressing strands of shadow silk onto the Karsestone to answer, but Malik was hanging on every word.

"What split?" the little man asked. "Do you mean the Weave?"

Galaeron started to answer, then recalled Malik's previous interest in shadow magic and thought better of it. "You ask too many questions, human." He started toward the little man. "You're no wizard. What is it to you if the Weave split?"

Malik's eyes grew wide, and he began to retreat. "Remember your shadow, my friend. You are placing yourself in grave danger with these questions!"

"But I'm not," said Vala, approaching from the other side. "And I've been wondering myself. It wasn't any coincidence that we found you camped outside Thousand Faces, was it?"

"You would threaten me?" Malik gasped. "After I risked my own life to save yours?"

"I'd like to know why." Vala rested a hand on her sword. "In my experience, Cyricists are rarely so selfless."

"Don't kill him-I'm going to need him," said Melegaunt, still working his way around the Karsestone. "His presence is no mystery He's investigating my magic for Cyric." Malik's jaw dropped. "You knew?"

Melegaunt peered out from behind the Karsestone. "Do I strike you as an idiot?" The archwizard pointed his chin at Malik's turban. "Pull that off, and you'll find his antlers. Our companion is no ordinary thief-he's the Seraph of Lies."

Galaeron did as Melegaunt instructed and found a pair of small antlers-they looked more like cuckold's horns-then asked, "You knew, and you let him stay?"

"Better the spy you know than the one you don't-and he has proven useful, wouldn't you say?" Melegaunt began to point to spots in a circle about six feet from the Karsestone. "Now spread yourselves out, and we'll call the power we need to save Evereska."

The companions did as Melegaunt requested, leaving a sixth spot open for him. The archwizard grabbed two hand-Ms of silvery magic from the pool, then floated into the air above the Karsestone. He hung the globes about six feet apart and touched a plain copper ring that he wore on his left had to each. A magical light spread upon the orbs, which began to glow with the blinding radiance of the sun. Galaeron turned away with spots in his eyes.

As his vision cleared, he saw a pair of shadows lying on the silvery surface of the pool, both so black and deep they looked at once like solid bodies and empty wells. Galaeron reached to find out which was his, and his fingers vanished in the darkness without creating a ripple on the pool's surface. When he pulled them back, all four digits were missing above the middle knuckle. There was no pain, no impression of heat or cold, no sensation at all. The fingers simply weren't there.

Gasping in alarm, Galaeron spun to berate Melegaunt for not warning him-then saw the translucent shape of his fingers outlined against the brilliant glow of the lights and realized he had been assuming the worst again. Atop the Karsestone, Melegaunt completed a spell he had been casting and noticed Galaeron watching him. "Only a moment now," the wizard said. "All is ready."

Melegaunt stepped off the Karsestone and floated to his place in the circle. He asked the group to join hands, then spoke a few words in a strange language Galaeron assumed to be Netherese. Next to him, Vala hissed in surprise as a tingling stream of energy passed from her hand into Galaeron's, then Malik gasped aloud as the stream passed into him. Galaeron began to feel lightheaded, and growing suspicious, opened his hand.

"Don't break the circle!" Melegaunt commanded. "Let no one break it, or we will all be pulled into Shadow."

Vala clamped down on Galaeron's hand with astonishing strength. 'Trust us, not your shadow!"

Galaeron's two shadows began to grow longer and broader, taking on a shape completely unlike his own. One assumed the form of an armored human with immense shoulders and a narrow waist. A pair of curved horns sprouted from his blocky head, then a pair of yellow eyes appeared in his dark face. The second silhouette was as large as the first, though squarer of body and clothed in swirling robes of darkness. Though it sprouted no horns, its profile revealed a grotesquely square chin and a crescent-shaped mouth full of sharp teeth.

Both shadows sank beneath the silvery surface and disappeared, only to reappear a moment later as huge, murk-swaddled figures. When Galaeron glanced around the circle, he found a pair of similar figures standing in front of each of his trembling companions. He could not quite decide whether he was looking at men or demons.

Melegaunt opened his hands and bowed so deeply that his brow touched the silvery pond. "My Princes, welcome back to Faerun."

"Stand, young brother." The largest, a copper-eyed brute nearly three heads taller than Vala, motioned Melegaunt upright. "That is the heavy magic?" "It is," said Melegaunt.

Paying no mind to the others in the chamber, the rest of the princes waded to Melegaunt's side. Galaeron and the others followed, but stopped a respectful distance away.

"All has gone according to plan?" asked the copper-eyed figure. "We are ready to proceed?"