Марк Энтони: Curse of the Shadowmage

At last Morhion nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything.” With that, the mage stood and disappeared up the stairs.

For a time, Caledan sat by himself in the light of the dying fire, a bemused expression on face. Suddenly a shudder passed through his body, and he doubled over in his chair. He clutched his chest, stifling a moan of pain. Despite all Estah’s efforts, the wound on Caledan’s chest had not healed. Nor would it ever.

Kellen rose from his corner and moved into the firelight. Caledan looked up in surprise. “Kellen,” he gasped hoarsely, trying valiantly to mask his pain. “I didn’t know you were still there.”

“We should go to bed,” Kellen said simply.

Caledan nodded. Weakly, he tried to rise from his chair but slumped back down. Kellen gripped Caledan’s arm and draped it around his shoulder.

“You can lean on me, Father.”

“Thank you, Kellen,” Caledan whispered gratefully. “You’re a good son.”

Later, Kellen sat on the bed in his attic chamber, bathed in the light of a single candle. Before him was a small iron box. Morhion said that iron blocked magic, which made it useful for storing enchanted objects, Carefully, Kellen opened the box. Inside were two things. The first was the set of obsidian pipes. The second was the Shadowstar.

Lightly, he ran a finger over the star-shaped medallion. The Shadowstar itself was not evil. It had been forged by the god Gond for Azuth, the High One, as a weapon against evil. Still, when he touched the medallion, Kellen could feel a distant, menacing presence. The shadevari.

If Kellen listened, he could hear the ancient beings, shrilly demanding that he release them from their bondage. However, he did not have to listen if he did not want to. All he had to do was concentrate, and the shrieking voices of the shadevari fell silent in his mind, though they did make the symbol of magic on his left palm itch fiercely.

Kellen knew this was what made him different from all the others who had come before him—all the others with shadow magic. They hadn’t been able to silence the voices of the shadevari when they touched the Shadowstar. That was why both Verraketh and Caledan had become shadowkings. Now Kellen was the last person in the world with shadow magic, and he could shut out the shadevari whenever he wanted. There would never be another shadowking. Still, Kellen sensed a great potential within the Shadowstar. Something told him its work was not done. Not yet.

Kellen shut the box and placed it in the wooden trunk where he kept his treasures. From the trunk he drew out the bone flute his father had carved for him. He raised the instrument to his lips and played a quiet song. On the wall, the shadows cast by the flickering candle swirled and danced. Kellen concentrated. Though he could easily summon shadows of the past, no matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to conjure shadows of the future. At last, Kellen gave up and lowered the flute. It was time for sleep. He gave the shadows on the wall one last curious glance.

Then he blew out the candle.

Mark Anthony likes to think of himself as one of TSR’s more versatile authors. He’s ventured into the forests of Krynn (with Ellen Porath in Kindred Spirits ), explored the underworld of Toril (in Crypt of the Shadowking ), and found himself lost in the mists of RAVENLOFT® (in Tower of Doom ). Curse of the Shadowmage marks his return journey to the FORGOTTEN REALMS® world, which is fortunate since he left some things behind last time he was there.

Mark lives in Colorado.