Curse of the Shadowmage (5 page)

Caledan’s eyes were wild with urgency. “What does it matter?” he shouted at her. “The way is open. We have to go!”

This time he pulled her hand so fiercely it seemed to nearly dislocate her shoulder. Brilliant pain flared, but she welcomed it, for it cleared her head. Later she could deal with what had just occurred between Caledan and the things of darkness. Now they had to flee. Hand in hand, she and Caledan dashed between the floating ranks of onyx creatures and careered headlong down the twisting stone tunnel.

To Belhuar Thantarth Master of Twilight Hall

In Milil’s name, greetings!

I am gladdened to report that the Zhentarim threat to Iriaebor has once again been averted. It is now clear

that the unexplained murders were indeed part of a Zhentarim plot to assume control of the city. I have concluded that the unfortunate victims were being fed to ravenous magical creatures conjured by a group of Zhentarim sorcerers hidden in the New City. In the lair of the Zhentarim were found schematic drawings of Iriaebor’s High Tower, suggesting that the magical creatures were going to be used as a weapon in a bloody coup attempt. Ironically, it seems that the Zhentarim’s own magic turned against them in the end; all the Zhent sorcerers were found slain in their hideout. Scores of the strange creatures were discovered in the Zhent lair. It appears that, in their hunger, the creatures turned upon the evil sorcerers who had conjured them. However, when I returned later to investigate with the mage Morhion Gen’dahar, the creatures were not to be found. Apparently, without victims upon which to feed, the magical creatures were dispelled.

With this mission completed, I am ready to assume the new task you have described in your latest missive. I will report again in one moon’s time. Until then, may Milil’s music be sweet upon your harp!

Yours in the fellowship of Harpers Mari Al’maren

Alone in the chamber she shared with Caledan on the upstairs floor of the Dreaming Dragon, Mari set down her quill pen. She sprinkled a dusting of fine sand across the missive she had written, then tilted the crisp piece of parchment, shaking off the excess sand. Finally, she rolled it up with the sketches she had made of the dark creatures and sealed the scroll with hot wax from the single candle resting on the writing table. For a time, she stared at the neatly rolled parchment, thinking how the

eerie creatures had drifted around Caledan in what almost seemed to be reverence; how she and Caledan had fled the Barbed Hook in terror; how only at Morhion’s urgent prompting, after they told the mage what they had witnessed, did they return to the Zhent lair and find them vanished.

Why the things had seemed to obey Caledan’s commands was a mystery. Perhaps it had something to do with his shadow magic. After all, the creatures had come from the shadows. Morhion had discovered a black, noxious residue in the corners of the underground chamber, and had collected some in a vial in order to perform experiments on it. The mage’s research might explain why the creatures had behaved as they did.

The other piece of the puzzle that still did not fit was the thief who had been caught in the act of one of the brutal killings. Of course, it could be that the man had simply committed that murder in imitation of the others. It was unfortunate, but such things did occur.

It had been a long day, and there was still one last task to complete … one Mari was not at all looking forward to.

The chamber door opened quietly.

“Mari. You’re still awake. I thought… I thought you’d be asleep.”

Mari regarded Caledan as he shut the door. His face was drawn, his eyes shining with weariness. For a moment her love for him washed over her like a wave. How could she possibly do what she intended? But she had made her decision.

She gestured to the writing desk. “I’ve just penned my report to the Harpers. They’ve sent new instructions. We both have new orders. I’m to go to Easting, and you—”

“I know. I’m to travel north to Corm Orp. I received a missive as well.”

Mari nodded. Silence reigned between them. At last

Caledan spoke, his voice gruff. “You’re going to tell me good-bye, aren’t you, Mari?”

It took her a long moment to find the words. “I don’t know, Caledan. Perhaps I am. I think we should let this be a parting of ways for us. At least for now.”

He swallowed hard. “Have I been so terrible, then?”

Mari turned away, crossing her arms across her chest to hide her trembling. “No,” she said hastily. Then she decided to speak her mind. ‘Yes. Yes, you have, but not in the way that you think. Today, in the Zhentarim hideout … what you did with those creatures … I …” She turned toward him, and only as the words sprang to her lips did she realize how true they were. “I’m afraid of you, Caledan. I think I have been for the last six moons.” She lifted an unconscious hand to touch her cheek. “I’m afraid of who you are becoming.”

A mirthless smile touched his lips. “It’s funny you should say that, Mari. You see, I’m afraid, too.” He approached, enfolding her in his strong, lean arms. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into his embrace. His whisper was fierce now. “I know I’ve been acting strangely lately. I do feel… different somehow. And the truth is, I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s something I’lf-be able to find out on my next mission. But whatever is happening between us, believe me when I tell you this, Mari. I would never harm you. Do you understand me? Never.”

“I know that, Caledan.” She held on to him, feeling his hard, muscular body beneath her hands. Yet she could not shake the disturbing sensation that this was not her Caledan she held in her arms, but a stranger. “Perhaps, after we’ve been apart for a while …”

He pressed a finger softly to her lips, silencing further words. Slowly, he ran his finger down her chin, her throat, to the leather laces that bound her green jacket. He bent down and kissed her. She returned the kiss

urgently. Their clothes slipped softly to the floor as he bent to blow out the single candle. For a time, fear was lost in the familiar warmth of each other’s touch.

Later, when she floated drowsily in the misty realm between sleep and waking, she thought she heard him rise from the bed. A softness touched her cheek, a low voice whispered in her ear.

“Fare thee well, Harper.”

Perhaps it was just a dream. But in the morning, when she, woke to gray daylight, Mari found herself alone and shivering beneath the bed covers.

Three

The boy sat at a table high in the mage’s tower, chin on hands, gazing into the multicolored center of a small, pyramid-shaped gem.

“Tell me, Kellen, what do you see within the crystal?”

Morhion spoke softly as he paced around the table. His long vest of dusky purple rippled gently as he moved, causing the runes embroidered on its edges to undulate like silver serpents.

“I see the light of the candles, refracted by the crystal’s facets,” Kellen answered solemnly.

“Are you certain that is all?” Morhion’s voice was almost hypnotic. “Look deeper, Kellen. Do not be so certain you already know what you will see. Open your mind to unexpected possibilities.”

Kellen frowned skeptically but leaned over the crystal once more, furrowing his forehead in concentration. “I see … I see …” Suddenly his green eyes widened. His

voice became a whisper of wonderment. “I see stars, Morhion! Shining against the deepest sea of black. And there are bright moons, fiery comets with glowing tails, and … and a strange orange ball with striped rings around its middle. I don’t know what it is, but I can tell that it is very large. Larger than I could even imagine.”

A fierce spark glinted in Morhion’s ice-blue eyes. “Yes!” he said quietly, more to himself than to the child. “Well done, Kellen.”

“It is all so beautiful,” the boy said dreamily. He was swaying in his chair now.

“Do not lose yourself in the crystal!” Morhion warned sharply. He gave Kellen’s shoulder a hard squeeze, snapping the boy out of his trance. Kellen gave a shudder, then with great effort turned away from the gem. “You must always maintain control of your senses when gazing into the crystal,” Morhion told the boy sternly. “Once lost in its depths, you might find it is not so easy to return.”

Kellen nodded, apprehension written on his round face. Morhion reminded himself that, despite Kellen’s remarkable perceptiveness, he was still only a boy of eleven winters. The mage’s expression softened. “Pear not, Kellen. You will never become lost in the crystal so long as I am near.”

Kellen smiled at the mage. “I know, Morhion.” He touched the smooth surface of the crystal. “It is magic, then, isn’t it?”

Morhion nodded. “There are some small magics bound into the crystal, yes. But they merely provide the catalyst, that is all. True magic comes from within.”

Kellen thought about this for a long moment. Then he asked, “What is the world I perceived in the crystal, Morhion?”

“I cannot say, Kellen. There exist many worlds beside

our own. There are mages who believe that some of these worlds are the wells from which we are able to draw our magic. Perhaps just such a world you saw.”

Outside the arched window, the full orb of the moon was rising above Iriaebor’s spires. The autumn evening was chilly, although Morhion’s study was warm and comfortable. Most people thought mages live in drafty old towers littered with musty tomes and rotting scrolls. Morhion enjoyed living against stereotype. Vibrant tapestries hung from the circular chamber’s stone walls; the floor was thick with expensive Amnian carpets. Books, parchments, and all manner of magical paraphernalia were arranged neatly in dark wood cases, and a fire burned brightly in a copper brazier in the room’s center.

Morhion poured two cups of spiced wine. As he handed one of the silver cups to Kellen, he watched the boy. The mage found he was curious to discover the limits of Kellen’s abilities. True, such inquiries would be premature. Most youths did not test their magic until their fifteenth year, or even later. And yet…

Morhion moved to a glass cabinet and took out a small wooden box. He set the box on the table before Kellen, opening the lid. Inside, resting on a cushion of purple velvet, was a small, dark stone. Carved into the pebble was an arcane sigil, the rune that symbolized magic.

“I want you to pick up the stone, Kellen,” Morhion said, gazing at the boy intently.

Kellen bit his lip in thought, studying the pebble for a long time as if trying to unlock its mysteries. Finally he shrugged. Reaching out, he picked up the stone. It lay small and dark in the palm of his hand. Morhion leaned forward, eyes glittering. Now, he thought. It should come now!

Nothing happened. Kellen opened his mouth as if to say something. The words were never uttered. The dark

stone flared with brilliant green light, shards of emerald illumination spraying outward, dancing crazily across the walls and ceiling. There was a sizzling sound, and the smell of burning flesh. Kellen cried out, dropping the stone. Abruptly, the blinding green light dimmed.

Morhion blinked, clearing his vision. The stone lay on the mahogany table, dark and ordinary-looking once more. Kellen clutched his left hand. His face was pale and drawn. Morhion reached out and gently unclenched Kellen’s fingers. Branded on the boy’s palm was a mirror image of the symbol that was carved into the pebble—the rune of magic.

Kellen looked up at the mage, his pain suddenly forgotten. “What does it mean, Morhion?”

Morhion did not answer. Instead, he slowly raised his own left hand. In the center of his palm was an old, puckered scar—a duplicate of the blistered mark on Kellen’s hand. Kellen was bursting with questions, but before he could voice any, Morhion shook his head, silencing him. This had been enough for tonight. He drew a silk handkerchief from a pocket and tied it loosely about the boy’s wounded hand.

“Go to the inn, Kellen, and find Estah,” Morhiftn instructed. “She will heal your hand. But the burn will scar. You will bear the mark of magic all your life.”

Kellen nodded gravely. “I know.”

“And if Caledan is angered at what I have done, send him to me and I will speak to him.”

Kellen shook his head. “My father isn’t in the city, Morhion. He left last night on a journey for the Harpers. He’ll be gone for a tenday at least, if not more.”

“I see. I didn’t know Caledan and Mari had a new mission.”

“Mari didn’t go with him. She has her own assignment for the Harpers.” While Kellen’s voice was always solemn,

now it seemed strangely sad as well. “I think it’s better this way. They were getting tired of arguing all the time.”

Morhion stiffened, a peculiar tightness in his chest. Was there trouble between Mari and Caledan?

As if reading the mage’s thoughts, Kellen went on. “Mari and my father have said good-bye to each other, Morhion. I think that, when they return from their current missions, she will leave Iriaebor forever.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t want her to go, but I suppose she has to.” -t “I see.” They were the only words he could manage. Mari and Caledan parting ways? The mage could hardly imagine such a thing. Yet that was not quite true, was it? For he had dared to imagine it—he, Morhion the traitor. A spike of shame pierced his heart.

Kellen pushed himself from his chair and walked softly to where Morhion sat. He did a surprising thing then, putting his arms around Morhion’s neck and leaning against the mage’s shoulder. Morhion froze. He was not accustomed to such intimacy. You have dwelt too long in the cold isolation of magic, Morhion, he admonished himself. Tentatively, he enfolded the boy in his arms, returning the innocent embrace.

For a time, after Kellen had left, Morhion sat gazing out the window, sipping spiced wine. Finally he rose and picked up the dark pebble, shutting it once more in its box. He knew that he had taken a risk in asking Kellen to touch the magestone. Yet, after the ease with which the boy had used the crystal to scry other worlds, Morhion’s curiosity had overwhelmed him. The stone had proven undeniably that Kellen was mageborn. Had he not been, the stone would have wounded him terribly or might even have struck him dead. Not only born to mage-craft, Kellen also had shadow magic in his blood. Each was a great power—and a great burden. Had the two talents ever combined before in one individual? And what