Paul Kemp - Shadowstorm

"Speak now or you will die for holding your silence," Rivalen commanded.

Talendar bowed his head. He closed his eyes and winced as he spoke. "I wished to keep a secret from you, Nightseer. That is the reason. It was petty. I see that now. I-"

"Turn around," Rivalen ordered him.

Talendar looked up sharply, his face pale. He licked his lips. "Nightseer, I apologize if-"

"Turn around."

Talendar stared into Rivalen's face, blinked, nodded, and slowly turned around. His body was as tense as a bowstring. The sound of his rapid breathing echoed off the stone walls of the hall. He stood hunched, awaiting his fate.

For a moment Rivalen let him wonder what doom awaited him. He put a shadow-shrouded hand on the back of Talendar's neck. The nobleman gave a start at the touch. Darkness streamed from Rivalen's hand, wrapped around Talendar's throat.

"Nightseer, please," Talendar said, his voice quaking.

Rivalen caused the tendrils to tighten around Talendar's throat. The nobleman gagged, grasped at them, but could not loosen their grip. Rivalen tightened them further and said, "The Lady smiles on secrets well kept, Dark Brother. But this was not such. Next time, consider well what you tell and what you do not… and why."

Rivalen would not kill Talendar-yet. He dispelled the shadowy tendrils and Talendar fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

"Forgive me, Nightseer," he croaked.

"Look upon that altar, Dark Brother. If you are guilty of another such lapse, I will see you laid across it and opened. You will enter Shar's realm not as her servant, but as her sacrifice."

Talendar, on all fours, stared at the altar and began to shake. In a quavering voice, he said, "Love is a lie. Only hate endures. Light is blinding…"

Rivalen turned himself invisible and rode the shadows out of the temple to an alley on Temple Avenue. He appeared near a crowd of refugees-two couples with their children-huddled for warmth around a burning brazier.

He moved past them and onto the avenue. Glowballs and burning braziers lit the street. The stars glowed between the notches of the towers, spires, chapels, and shrines of Selgaunt's many gods. He noted each of them in turn-Leira, Milil, Sune, Oghma, Tymora, a handful of others.

"All is fleeting," he said to them.

18 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms

Cale, Riven, and Magadon materialized on a grassy knoll in a light rain. Riven put his hands on his knees and coughed black phlegm until Cale thought the assassin would surely vomit. Magadon, looking like he might fall over at any moment, sagged to the ground. Cale, too, felt the life-draining effect of Furlinastis's breath. His breathing was ragged; he felt as if his chest were in a vise.

"Are you all right?" he asked them.

Riven nodded between coughs. Magadon took a deep breath and looked to Cale.

"I am well."

They stood atop a low hill dotted with shrubs and a twisted tree that looked like a gallows. The ruins of the once grand city of Elgrin Fau crouched in the deeper darkness of the valley below.

Creepers, stunted shrubs, and twisted trees overgrew the city's ancient streets. The weathered hulks of stone buildings-once shops, residences, and temples-stood in silent rows like gravestones. Piles of rubble dotted the ruins here and there. Tall statues, worn featureless by the eons, stood sentinel over the silence.

Even in death the city felt magisterial, with its grand arches, carved columns, and broad, pavestone plazas. Cale wished he could have seen it under the sun, filled with life.

The temple of the Seekers of the Sun, its dome still intact, rose futilely into the darkness. After Kesson Rel had banished Elgrin Fau to the Plane of Shadow, the worshipers there had never again seen the sun. The followers of light had died in darkness.

Cale's gaze focused on the black clot in the center of the city. He could not see through the murk but he knew an enormous cemetery stood there. It had once been a park or commons, but the residents of Elgrin Fau had converted it to a graveyard in order to bury their dead within the soil of their city. A magical portal stood in the center of the cemetery, a monument placed there by Kesson Rel to mock the citizens after they had died and been transformed by hate and Kesson Rel's magic into undead.

Riven controlled his coughing fit, wiped his mouth, and said, "Explain yourself, Mags. Now."

The threat in Riven's voice turned Cale around.

Magadon did not even look up at the assassin. "What do you mean?

Riven stepped into Magadon's space, his hands on his saber hilts. Magadon looked up.

"Play stupid and see if I play along," Riven said.

"Riven…" Cale began.

Riven held his stare on Magadon. "I saw you when the dragon attacked, Mags. You didn't move a step. You stood there like a sacrifice. Why?"

Cale, too, had witnessed Magadon's inexplicable passiveness. "I saw it, too, Mags. What were you thinking?"

Magadon climbed to his feet. "It happened too fast," he said, but there was a lie in his tone.

Riven's eye narrowed. "A lie. Explain yourself."

Magadon looked into Riven's face. "And if I don't? What will happen that is worse than where I've been? Than where I am?"

Cale understood then. He stepped forward, put his arm between his two comrades, and opened up some space. Riven glared at Magadon before walking away.

Magadon spoke to Riven's back, his tone vaguely taunting. "Tell me, Riven. What will happen? I'm already half dead. What do you think you can do?"

"That's enough," Cale said.

Magadon glared at Cale. "Don't you dare pity me. Ever."

Riven turned around and his voice dripped contempt. "You giving up then, Mags? That devil stole half your soul and now you want to surrender the other half? You want to die? Is that it?"

Magadon could hold Riven's gaze for only a moment before looking away.

To Cale, Riven said, "I've seen that look in the eyes of other men, men who despise themselves, men who make mistakes intentionally because they don't have the balls to handle their own affairs." He turned back to Magadon and said, "You want to die, die. I gave you my dagger. It kills just fine. But don't put us at risk because you won't sheathe steel in your gut. You hear me?"

Magadon looked up, but looked away just as fast.

Cale put a hand on his shoulder. "Mags?"

Magadon shook his head, made no eye contact with Cale. When he spoke, his voice quavered.

"I don't know what I want. Godsdammit. Pieces of me have been falling off since we parted a year ago. The Source, my father. I'm falling down, here." He looked up at Riven. "I'm falling down, Riven."

Riven stalked over, his eye burning. He took Magadon by the other shoulder.

"Stand up, then," the assassin said, and shook him gently. "Stand up."

Magadon looked into Riven's face, into Cale's.

"We need you with us, Mags," Cale said. "Are you with us?"

"Are you?" Riven asked.

Magadon looked away, looked back at them. Finally he firmed up and nodded.

"What's left of me is with you."

Cale decided it would have to be enough. He turned to Riven.

"Well enough?"

Riven looked only at Magadon. "We are all neck deep in this, Mags. All of us. There's no giving up. Not now. Not ever."

Magadon nodded and the patter of rain filled the silence.

"Now," Riven said to Cale. "You said you'd tell us everything. Start talking."

Cale said, "Let's get out of this damned rain first."

"Follow me," Magadon said, and led them away from the city until they found a small copse of twisted trees as large as mature oaks. They sheltered under the broad leaves, which kept most of the rain at bay. It was too damp for a fire, so they huddled near the bole and stared at one another through the darkness.