Марк Энтони - Crypt of the Shadowking

“Can he really do that, Estah?” Mari asked when they were alone. “The trick with the shadows, I mean.”

“Indeed he can. Shadow magic, I always called it. He could make the shadows on the wall move and act as he pleased with the music of his reed pipes. Of course, he put little stock in it. He regarded it simply as a minor talent that ran in his family. But however small a thing it was, it was magic .” Estah’s eyes glimmered in the firelight, then she sighed. “Now, of course, he won’t play a note of music at all, not for any reason.”

“Why, Estah? Why did Caledan forsake his music, and the Harpers?”

“You don’t know, lass?” Estah asked softly. “I thought you knew about Ravendas.”

Mari shrugged. “Only that Caledan had met her before. That’s all I know.”

Estah sighed deeply. “It’s a long tale, but I think it’s one you should hear. I suppose I should start by telling you about the Fellowship of the Dreaming Dragon.” She poured a cup of fragrant tea, scented with mint and camomile, for each of them. Mari leaned forward, listening intently.

“I’ll never forget the first time I met Caledan.” Estah smiled with the memory. “It must be more than a dozen years ago by now. He was a young man then, on his first mission for the Harpers. As it happened, his travels brought him to Iriaebor, to this very inn, which I had only just bought. Over the next year or so his journeys frequently brought him to the Dreaming Dragon, and we became friends. And then one day, before I really had a chance to consider what I was doing, he told me he had need of a healer, and the next thing I knew I was off on one of his missions with him!”

Estah shook her head and laughed. “If I had known what adventuring was like, I doubt I would have ever left the warm comforts of the inn. But once enlisted, I knew I could never let Caledan go off on his journeys alone again. They were simply too dangerous. He needed a healer with him.”

“But you weren’t the only one to journey with him, were you?” Mari asked.

Estah nodded, sipping her tea. “That’s right. One by one, others that we met on our journeys joined the Fellowship to help Caledan. The first was Morhion, a mage of considerable power. After him came Ferret, who was always more rogue than hero. And then there was Tyveris, a great warrior but also a gentle soul. Over the years, and through our travels, we became almost like a family.” Estah smiled fondly. “No, I think we were a family.” Her broad face grew solemn.

“Where are the others now?” Mari asked gently.

“Last I heard, Tyveris lived north of Iriaebor,” Estah replied. “As for the others, I’m not certain. No one could ever keep track of Ferret for long. Morhion may still live in the city, but if so I don’t know where. I haven’t heard from him since the day we went our separate ways. Even when we traveled together he was a strange, secretive man.”

“But you still haven’t told me why Caledan left the Harpers, Estah, why the Fellowship disbanded.”

“Let me finish the tale,” Estah said with a sigh, setting down her teacup. “I think you’ll understand then. You see, there was one other who joined the Fellowship. Her name was Kera, and she was a Harper, too. I once heard it said about Kera that her hair made sunlight seem pale, and that compared to her eyes the morning sky was colorless. But it was her heart I remember most. She was a woman of true beauty, within and without.”

How lucky for her, Mari almost found herself saying, but then she bit her tongue. Why should she care what Caldorien’s old friends looked like?

“You should have seen Caledan in those days,” Estah said with a laugh. “You wouldn’t have recognized him, Mari. He was young and handsome, full of humor and hope. I think that was Kera’s influence on him. Never have I seen two people more in love than Kera and he. They used to sing the most marvelous duets.”

Estah rose to put another piece of wood on the fire. She stirred the coals with a poker, and sparks flew up the chimney. She sat back down and gathered her thoughts for a moment before going on. “It was seven years ago that Caledan and Kera finally decided to wed. They were going to take their vows in Twilight Hall in Berdusk itself, before all of the Harpers. But on the eve of our journey to Berdusk, word came from Twilight Hall that a Zhentarim lord was raising an army of goblinkin outside the walls of Hluthvar, a town some leagues to the north of Iriaebor. As it turned out, the Zhent’s name was Ravendas.

“Caledan and Kera accepted the mission. The wedding was postponed.”

Mari edged forward on her chair, her tea forgotten, as Estah described how Caledan and the Fellowship managed to ruin Ravendas’s plans to usurp the town.

“Goblins are clannish creatures,” Estah explained, “and goblin tribes are constantly feuding with each other. We discovered that Ravendas’s army was comprised of goblins from two different tribes. We managed to plant rumors among each of the tribes that the other tribe was planning to betray them. Driven nearly mad with suspicion, the leaders of the two tribes attacked each other. The rest of the goblins quickly followed suit. Ravendas’s army actually destroyed itself. The town of Hluthvar was saved.

“In the chaos of the battle Caledan managed to capture Ravendas, and he threw her in chains,” Estah went on. “However, when he was off routing a few straggling bands of goblins, Ravendas managed to escape.”

“But how?” Mari asked.

Estah’s face hardened. “Ravendas was always a sly one. She could don a look of remorse as easily as you might don your cloak. At the time it happened, Kera was the only one in camp. Ravendas spoke to her, pretty words I’m sure, and finally she convinced Kera that she was truly repentant, that she wished to begin a new life. Kera believed her, and she unlocked Ravendas’s chains.”

Estah’s voice trembled and her eyes grew distant, as if she were reliving it all over again. “By the time we rode back to camp, Ravendas had escaped. We found Kera, her fair face pressed to the cold ground. The chains that had bound Ravendas were wrapped about her neck, wet with her blood.” She shook her head in sorrow. “Kera was dead. Ravendas had strangled her.”

“But I don’t understand,” Mari said, angered by what seemed Kera’s pointless death. “Why did Kera believe Ravendas? It should have been obvious that she was lying.”

“True,” Estah said with a nod, “but Kera wanted to believe. You see, Mari, Kera and Ravendas were sisters.”

Mari stared at the healer in silent shock.

“Caledan blamed himself, of course,” Estah went on sadly. “And he blamed the Harpers as well. He broke with the Harpers that day, and that was when the Fellowship disbanded. We each went on to lead our separate lives, and as far as I know Caledan has not played a note of music since. I think it reminds him of Kera far too much.”

Mari did not know what to say. The healer’s tale made her regret a few of the harsh things she had said to Caldorien.

Estah shook her head, regarding the small hands resting against her gray homespun skirt. “If only there had been enough healing in these two old hands,” she said softly. “Perhaps Kera might have lived.”

Mari reached out and took the healer’s hands in her own. “But you can’t fault yourself, Estah, no more than Caledan can.”

Estah pulled her hands away. “Oh, yes, I can,” she said sternly. “I can, and I do. But while Kera’s death shattered Caledan, it made me strong, Mari. I vowed that day never to let another person I love die. Never.” She rose to her feet abruptly.

“I’d best see if Pog and Nog are in bed yet,” Estah said, then left Mari alone in the flickering light of the fire.