Thomas Reid: The Crystal Mountain

It's not such a bad way to be put out to pasture, Eirwyn told herself for perhaps the thousandth time. There are certainly worse fates than this. And I did what was necessary.

The angel smiled softly as she thought of Tauran. A mixture of satisfaction and sadness washed through her as she wondered where her friend might be at that moment. She had done the right thing in protecting him. She knew that. She only hoped it had been enough.

Did they succeed? she wondered. Did they uncover the truth? Would anyone come to tell me if they had?

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Eirwyn scolded. His sacrifice was as great as your own, if not worse. You lost Helm's patronage because he died, not because you were forced to turn from him. Tauran has willingly accepted the far more tragic fate.

If Eirwyn still had a god to pray to, she would have murmured a blessing for Tauran's safety and health. As it was, she could only send him good wishes in her thoughts.

The angel mourned Helm's death anew. The emptiness created by her deity's demise still filled her, still felt like a fresh wound that would never scar over. It was more than just the absence of his dedicated love, and more than the loss of her angelic powers. Eirwyn missed her sense of purpose, of responsibility. The joy of serving had gone from her life, and she was left with merely being.

Not a terribly promising existence for an immortal creature.

The sun broke through the clouds, a burst of morning brightness heralding the coming of another beautiful day. It was in many ways a false portent to Eirwyn, but it did remind her that life continued on despite her-or anyone else's-trials and tribulations.

Eirwyn was on the verge of returning indoors when a flash in the sky caught her eye. She turned fully toward it and watched, bringing her hand up to shield her vision from the brightening sun.

The second time it flashed, the angel got a better fix on the point and focused her gaze there, waiting.

Two figures grew from twin specks against the backdrop of the lightening sky. By the time they were distinguishable, Eirwyn could tell they were celestials, flying toward her on wings of white. When it became obvious that they were coming directly toward her, the angel's heart leaped in excitement, though a shadow of foreboding, a residual worry from her unremembered dream, also coursed through her.

Initially, she thought it was a solar and a planetar approaching, but as the pair got nearer, she realized that the green-skinned creature was, in fact, a trumpet archon. It had been the archon's long, silvery trumpet gleaming in the morning sun that had tipped Eirwyn to their presence.

The two celestials arrived and settled to the soft ground. Together, they bowed before Eirwyn, who returned the affectation with no small amount of curiosity. Despite her puzzlement, she was deeply grateful for the visitors. It had been quite some time since she had been given the chance to interact with anyone.

"We bid you good morning on this blessed day, Eirwyn," the solar said. She knew him. Viryn had commanded the escort that had brought her to her prison. "We hope this visit finds you in good health and spirits," the archon added, "and we trust that we are not interrupting anything of import?"

Eirwyn laughed. "I think you both know that I would welcome any interruption. Viryn, there's no need for formalities; I do not hold you in contempt. You were just doing your duty."

The other angel inclined his head slightly in thanks. "I am glad to see you taking this so well, Eirwyn. It gave me no joy to leave you here."

Eirwyn shrugged, then frowned. "If you've come to see if I will reconsider and testify before the High Council, I'm afraid you've made the journey for nothing. I still believe in the rightness of my actions, and of my freedom to make such a decision. I'm afraid I still share Tauran's sentiment that Tyr was not acting in his right faculties, and that will not change."

The two visitors looked at one another and frowned. "Of course, there's no way you might have known," Viryn said solemnly, "but I thought you might suspect…"

Eirwyn cocked her head to one side, puzzled. "Suspect what?" she asked. "What has happened?" Then her heart leaped in joy. "Tauran's returned! He's brought news of his success!"

Viryn's frown deepened.

"Alas, he has not," the other angel replied. He opened his mouth to add more, but the archon cut him off.

"Have you not heard the summons?" the trumpeter asked. "Have you not felt the Seer's connection, calling you?"

Eirwyn's eyes grew wide. "Erathaol has been trying to contact me?" she asked. The notion of the great archon who ruled Venya, the third layer of Mount Celestia, reaching out, stunned her. "Why?" Then she recalled the tremor that had awakened her.

And her dreams.

Eirwyn seized on the palpable worry radiating from the two creatures standing before her. They had come bearing profound news. "Tell me," she commanded them.

"For three days, portents have come to the Seer, announcing something profound and dire. He has been attempting to interpret these warnings, but the only insight he has gleaned thus far is your name. He's been trying to summon you to him, but to no avail. It was only this morning that he learned you had been banished. He sent me to intervene, and we rushed here at once, but now I fear we may be too late."

"Too late for what?" Eirwyn asked. How could I be a part of the Seer's visions? she wondered, feeling overwhelmed for the first time in eons.

"It seems you and Tauran were right," Viryn said. "Mystra has been slain. By Cyric."

Eirwyn gasped and sank to her knees. "No!" she breathed. "This cannot be!" Oh, Tauran, she thought. You saw it coming, didn't you? And no one believed you. She prayed that her friend still lived.

"Sadly, I am not finished with the dire news," Viryn continued. He placed a hand on Eirwyn's shoulder to offer her comfort. "Dweomerheart was destroyed in the process. Savras is dead, Azuth is missing. The World Tree is no more."

New sorrow welled in Eirwyn's heart. "So many lives lost," she murmured, trying to absorb what the deva was telling her. "So much death and destruction. What has Cyric wrought?"

"I do not know," Viryn answered. His voice sounded grave, frail. "Everyone is trying to determine how far the aftereffects reach." He took a deep breath. "But that's why we are here. You must return with us to the Court of Tyr at once. You have been pardoned. It appears that you have some role to play in all this, and the council wants to find out what."

Kaanyr Vhok's consciousness returned to the sound of forge hammers ringing on anvils. The loud, clanging blows of metal on metal reverberated through the cambion. Each concussive strike made his head pound, and he winced at the noise.

The dwarves of Sundabar are worthless wastes of life, he silently grumbled. They should all be impaled and quartered for making that racket.

The half-fiend groaned, grimaced, then tried to sit up. The pounding in his head made him dizzy, and he feared he would be ill.

What's the matter with me? he wondered. Am I injured?

Kaanyr couldn't remember what happened. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to clear his head. He kept his face on the cool stones beneath him and waited until his equilibrium stopped spinning.

Stones, he thought. Did I fall?

He reached out with one hand and began to feel his own body, testing for broken bones. Everything was intact.

A familiar feminine voice cut through the fog of his wooziness. "Micus, wait!"

Aliisza.

"Stop this. Let me find a way to help you," the alu said. Her voice sounded desperate, frantic. It filled him with worry.

Micus! He knew that name!

Memories tumbled back into Vhok-