Марк Энтони - Curse of the Shadowmage

Mari looked unconvinced, but when she opened her mouth to ask another question, a slight figure stepped from behind her.

“Hello, Morhion.”

Mari looked surprised, but amusement flickered across Morhion’s usually impassive visage. This was unexpected … or had it been prearranged?

“Hello, Kellen,” the mage said.

“Kellen, what are you doing here?” Mari asked sternly. “You should be back at the inn with Estah.”

Though the halfling healer had wanted to join the search for Caledan, Morhion and Mari had convinced her that someone needed to stay at the Dreaming Dragon in case Caledan returned. Reluctantly, Estah had agreed to remain behind, though she was not pleased about it.

“It’s all right,” Kellen said gravely. “I left her a note so she wouldn’t wonder where I went.”

Morhion gave the boy a speculative look. “And just where is it that you are going, Kellen?”

“With you, of course. You’re going to need someone with the shadow magic on your journey.”

Morhion glanced at Mari. “The boy is right, you know.”

“I don’t care if he’s right,” Mari countered crossly. “Right has absolutely nothing to do with it. He’s only eleven years old, and he’s not coming with us.”

Morhion made a decision. “Listen to me, Mari,” he urged quietly. “You know as well as I do that Caledan’s power over shadows has become chaotic and dangerous. We may have to face shadow creatures like those in the Zhentarim lair. And if we do, we may indeed need Kellen’s shadow magic.”

Mari wasn’t budging. “I packed supplies for only the two of us. And we don’t have a horse for him.”

“I’m small,” Kellen offered. “I could ride with you or Morhion. And I don’t eat much.”

Mari let out a resigned sigh. She knelt and gripped Kellen’s shoulders. “All right, Kellen. This is going to be a hard journey, and a dangerous one. Once we’ve left, there can be no complaining or begging to turn back. And you must do everything that I or Morhion ask you to do, quickly and without question. Do you promise?”

He nodded earnestly. “I promise, Mari.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled in spite of herself. “All right, then. Let’s get going.”

“Wait a minute!” a huffing voice shouted. “Not so fast!”

What now? Morhion wondered. He and Mari looked up in surprise to see a rotund figure stumble through the doorway before collapsing to the floor, wheezing. A willowy form stepped lithely over the prostrate bulk.

“I didn’t know you could actually run, Cormik,” Jewel said in sincere amazement. “Did you burst something, you silly goat?”

“I’m quite fine—no thanks to you, old witch,” he grumbled, hauling himself to his feet. He wore a voluminous pearl-gray traveling cloak over his usual opulent finery.

Mari thrust her hands against her hips. “What now?”

Cormik pointed a chubby, accusing finger at Jewel. “This crafty wench thought she would tag along with you on your quest, in hopes of learning the location of Stiletto’s hideout.” He glowered darkly at the matriarch of the Talondim clan. “Information she could then sell to other thieves for a profit.”

Jewel let out a trilling laugh. She had clad her lean form in supple riding leathers dyed the same dusky violet color as her eyes. “You’re angry only because I thought of the idea first.”

“Actually, I thought of it first,” Cormik grumbled. “You just run faster.”

“Enough!” Mari shouted, holding up her hands. “It doesn’t matter who thought of the idea first, because neither of you is coming with us.” She looked to Morhion for support. “Am I right?”

“Actually, Mari, both Cormik and Jewel have many connections in the underworld—connections that may prove useful in our search for Stiletto.”

She shot the mage a withering look. “Can’t you be on my side just once, Morhion?”

He gave her a mysterious smile. “Perhaps I’ll surprise you some day.”

It was decided. Their plan was simple enough. They would attempt to follow Caledan’s trail, asking questions about Stiletto along the way. Morhion had discovered an incantation in The Book of the Shadows , an incantation that could be spoken only by one with shadow magic who held the Shadowstar. If they gained the Shadowstar first, Kellen could recite the spell and reverse Caledan’s transformation. At least, so Morhion believed.

But if Caledan reached the Shadowstar before them …

Well, it was best not to consider that possibility, for if Caledan completed his metamorphosis, Morhion was not certain anything could stop him.

Soon the five gathered before the gateway. The horses had balked at being led down the stone staircase, prompting Mari to scold her chestnut gelding, Farenth. He was a prideful beast and, thus insulted, decided to prove his mettle. When Farenth pranced down the steps, the other horses followed willingly: Morhion’s jet-black stallion, Tenebrous; Jewel’s fine-boned mare, Pearl, named for the white mark on her forehead; and Cormik’s sturdy brown destrier, Plinth. Jewel and Cormik had brought a shaggy pony with them for extra supplies, and this provided a perfect mount for Kellen. The pony was a quick and lively creature that Kellen named Flash.

Morhion guided Tenebrous toward the blank stone archway and spread his hands. He concentrated, then spoke a single word, “ Avarra! ,” which meant “open” in the language of magic.

The rough stone within the arch rippled, blurred, then seemed to melt away like mist. A series of rolling hills beneath a sharp azure sky appeared beyond the arch. Sunlight spilled thick and golden as honey over the dun-colored landscape. Faintly, Morhion heard the soft hiss of wind through dry autumn grass.

“Quickly,” he said through clenched teeth. “I cannot hold the gateway open for long.”

Hastily, the others rode under the arch. Sweat pouring down his brow, Morhion was the last, spurring Tenebrous through the magical portal. As he passed through, a thin curtain of cold washed over him, momentarily taking his breath away. He found the others on the other side, looking vaguely ill. It was disconcerting to ride a few dozen feet yet find oneself over sixty leagues away. By horse, the village of Corm Orp lay seven days north of Iriaebor. Vast distances were nothing to the gateway. There were still many of these scattered across the Realms. A man could travel instantly between any of them if he knew the right spells. And if he was lucky, Morhion added to himself.

“It worked,” Morhion murmured in relief.

Cormik gaped at him. “You mean there was a chance it wouldn’t?” he asked. “What might have happened?”

“I really don’t think you want to know,” Morhion replied acerbically. Looking decidedly queasy, Cormik didn’t push the point.

Morhion turned his horse around to face the gateway hovering in the air between two wind-worn standing stones. Through the arch, Morhion could see the chamber beneath his tower.

“Bahadra!” he spoke, adding a sharp gesture—“close” in the tongue of magic. With a flash, the gateway shut. Now, all that could be seen between the standing stones were wave after wave of hills marching toward a distant line of jagged purple peaks. The Sunset Mountains.

“Let’s go,” Morhion said, turning his back to the mountains. He spurred Tenebrous into a gallop, and the others followed behind.

The five rode into Corm Orp with the long shadows of sunset. At first glance, the village seemed pitifully small, no more than a score of stone buildings clustered around a wide place in the Dusk Road, which led from Iriaebor in the south all the way to the city of Elturel to the west. However, a closer look showed that the low hills bordering the vale were dotted with numerous brightly painted doors. Most of Corm Orp’s residents were halflings, and the diminutive folk preferred to dwell in their snug underground burrows rather than in drafty aboveground houses like the big folk.