Марк Энтони - Crypt of the Shadowking

I can’t believe I’m going to do this, Caledan snarled to himself. This must be the Harper’s bad influence on me.

“To you, Ravendas,” he said as he lifted his goblet, the words dripping like poison from his tongue.

He flipped up his visor.

Shock flickered in her azure gaze for only a second. Then a dangerous smile coiled about her red lips.

“It has been some time, Caledan Caldorien,” she said, her voice as cold as steel. Swiftly, before he could react, she snaked out a hand and reached deftly inside his right boot. She drew out the small knife concealed there.

“Right where you always kept it,” she said with a smile that would have been enchanting had it not been so devoid of warmth. “If nothing else, you were always predictable, Caledan.”

“Do you mean to say you were expecting me, Ravendas?” He made no effort to hide the revulsion in his voice. He pulled off the hot, uncomfortable helm.

She stood and moved to the window, gazing out for a long moment. She sipped her wine delicately. “No, but I should have known my lord steward would fail once again in his efforts to capture you.” She moved to a chair opposite him and sat, arranging her gown precisely.

“So who was this ‘Captain Breldurn’?” Caledan asked casually, emphasizing the past tense. The meaning was not lost on Ravendas. “How did he compare with Maderon?” Caledan allowed himself a vicious smile. Maderon was the nobleman who had intended to murder Cormik years ago. He had also been Ravendas’s lover. “You know, I never would have taken Maderon for a screamer. You should have heard the way he begged for mercy on the end of my sword before he died. Shameful.”

Caledan saw the briefest ripple of annoyance flicker across Ravendas’s placid visage. He had struck home with that one.

“Ah, yes. Maderon,” Ravendas said frostily, recovering her perfect composure. “He was an entertaining toy. Pretty, but stupid. I was growing weary of him, however. I should thank you for disposing of him.”

“My pleasure.”

“Did you enjoy your little journey to the Fields of the Dead?” Ravendas asked, quickly changing the subject. “I trust you weren’t disappointed when you arrived at the valley near Asher. There must be ten thousand barrows there. You’re a clever man. I’m sure you realized that finding Talembar’s tomb is an impossibility.”

“Did you journey there yourself?”

“Of course,” she replied calmly. “I’ve been far ahead of you from the beginning, Caledan. Don’t you see? It is pointless to struggle against me.” Her expression darkened. “You know,” she went on, “stealing my jewels from the countinghouse made me very … angry.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to apologize,” Caledan said, refilling his wine glass.

Ravendas regarded him for a long moment, absently fidgeting with the strand of pearls about her throat. “All right, Caledan, what is it you want?” she demanded flatly.

“I’ve come to warn you, Ravendas,” Caledan said simply. “Your lord steward is planning to betray you. While I don’t know who he is, I do know that Snake serves another master, a powerful one.” He went on in a dire tone. “What Snake and his master are planning, I can’t really say, but I think it involves the Nightstone. At any rate, he’s gone to great lengths to kill everyone who possesses the shadow magic. You’re in grave danger, Ravendas. We all are. What are you going to do about it?”

She laughed, a sound utterly devoid of mirth.

“I would not have expected so feeble an attempt at deception from you, Caledan,” she purred. “Have the years been so hard that your wits have left you?”

Caledan felt anger flare inside him. “It’s the truth, Ravendas. You’re foolish if you don’t listen to me.”

She rose and paced smoothly before the fireplace, the crimson silk of her dress rustling against the marble floor. “Snake is my servant. I fear him no more than I would a lapdog. Of course, he is not without cunning. That was why I elevated him to his present position. He has proven quite useful a number of times. But when I first met him he was little more than a common cutpurse. He is hardly capable of defeating me .” Her blue eyes flashed.

“You’re wrong,” Caledan said, standing. “Dead wrong. Do you know what a shadevar is?”

“A shadevar?” Ravendas repeated, a frown creasing her brow. “What, pray tell, is that?”

“An abomination,” Caledan growled. “A sightless monster that follows by scent, not by sight, and that can kill in a heartbeat. The shadevari were ancient creatures, maybe older than the world itself. Once they served the god Bhaal, but in the end even he was powerless to control the shadevari, and Azuth himself banished them. It would have taken a sorcerer of incredible power to summon a shadevar into the world again. And that’s exactly what Snake did.”

“If this shadevar was so powerful, why is it you’re not dead, Caledan?” Ravendas demanded.

“I managed to kill it with the help of a few others in the Fields of the Dead. But it was more by luck than anything else. Believe me, this thing was powerful enough to lay waste to an army.”

Ravendas sighed. “I’m growing weary of this talk, Caledan. There’s nothing you can say that could make me fear Snake. You see, there’s really no time left for him to do anything that could interfere with my goal.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have found the crypt of the Shadowking,” Ravendas replied gloatingly. “In two days’ time I will be able to open the doorway into the tomb beneath the Tor. My sorcerers tell me that the dark of the moon is the most propitious time.” Caledan stared at her. “In just two days, the Nightstone will be mine, Caledan. Nothing—not you, not Snake, not the Zhentarim—can stand in my way then. With the power of the Nightstone, I will rule this city and a dozen others like it. I will not stop until all the Realms kneel before me.

“But I will need a prince consort to stand beside me and give me strength,” Ravendas added in her dulcet voice. Her gaze drifted over Caledan like a caress. “That could be you, Caledan. Would you stand beside me and rule the Realms with me? You have only to kneel and pledge your life to me as your queen.”

“You’re mad,” Caledan said simply, shaking his head. “Besides, what you really want is my shadow magic. I know that you need one with the shadow magic to take the Nightstone from its resting place.”

Ravendas laughed again. “You think you’re terribly clever, don’t you, Caledan? Then again, you always did. However, I’m afraid you’re wrong this time. Oh, once you would have been right. Years ago I did seek to win you over for your shadow magic. You see, I first learned of the Nightstone more than a decade ago. I was weaving my plans even then. You proved stubborn, however. Whatever you saw in that fawning sister of mine I cannot say, yet you chose to spurn my advances. In the meantime I have discovered another way in which I might gain control of someone blessed with the shadow magic, and he is mine even now.”

Caledan made a sudden intuitive leap. “The boy? Kellen?”

“Indeed,” Ravendas purred wickedly. “I think he inherited his coloring from me. But his hair, his eyes, and his shadow magic—all come from his father.”

Caledan felt a sudden numbing coldness grip his heart. He stared at Ravendas.

“Yes, Caledan,” she said with chilling calm. “Kellen is your son.”

Caledan’s gaze went to the door where the boy had disappeared. His gut instinct was to shout out in denial, but he remained silent. As unbelievable as it was, somehow he knew it was true. Even when he had spoken with Kellen he had felt drawn to the boy, as if there was some unspoken bond between them. He sank back on the fur-covered divan. “How old is he?” he asked finally.