Forsaken House (3 page)

“Now-what dire challenge drove you away from the Tower, anyway?” He started to wave off the question, but then thought better of it. Instead, he sat down beside her. “The high mages met with me,” he said. “I will be permitted

to study the high lore.”

“Araevin, that’s wonderful! I know you have hoped for

this.”

“In fifty years.”

“Oh.” Ilsevele frowned. “Well, everyone knows that high mages must have a lifetime of experience before they can safely study the high magic spells.” She thought a moment, then her expression brightened. “Perhaps it isn’t so bad. That will give us plenty of time to get started on our family.”

“There is that,” he admitted.

“But?”

“But I find myselfwondering what I am to do with myself between now and then.” Araevin stared at his hands. “For so long I have always felt that I needed to master one more spell, find one more old book and read it, learn one

more secret of the Art, prove myself in one more way. I am afraid that I may find the waiting hard to abide.”

“I think you have spent too much time among your human friends,” she replied. “There is no hurry, Araevin. And I think you will find that 1can demand your full and undivided attention if I so choose.”

She reached for him and drew him close, and Araevin was soon forced to concede that Ilsevele could do exactly as she threatened when she wanted.

Later, as the stars came out in the eastern sky and the last fiery glimmers of sunset burned in the clouds of the west, Araevin held her in his arms. Together they listened to the sea’s endless voice and the sighing ofthe breeze in

the forest.

“I am going to Faerftn soon,” he said softly.

“I know.”

“I may be gone for some time. I don’t know what I am

looking for.”

“I know.”

“You are not angry with me?” he said.

“Of course not. I am going with you,” she replied. She snuggled deeper into his arms. “Some desire in your heart is set on things you cannot find in Evermeet. I want to walk beside you and see what those things are. You will never be wholly mine until I do.”

Araevin thought on that for a long time. He found, somewhat to his surprise, that he wanted more than anything to have her come with him, to share the things he saw, to meet the people he knew and visit the places he loved.

“We’ll leave in a month, maybe two. I have a few things to finish at the Tower. By summer at the latest, I think. There is no hurry.”

*****

Araevin was deep in Reverie when the call came. He and Ilsevele had tarried at the House of Cedars for two more days, content with each other’s company, considering their plans to journey into the world beyond Evermeet’s shores. But an hour after moonset, when the night was black and heavy with the wet sea winds and Araevin lay dreaming of times long past, a brilliant white flame impinged on his trance. A swift, frightened voice interrupted his dreams: Mages of Reilloch Domayr, rally to the Tower! Demons assail the circle, and many have been slain already. Arm yourselves for battle!

“Kileontheal?” he cried out, as he roused himself from Reverie. He could feel the imprint ofthe High Mage’s personality on the sending, as ifher pale face hung before him in the darkened room. Araevin leaped to his feet, his mind

stumbling over the message. Demons in the Tower? Impossible! he thought. Evermeet was warded by mighty spells that prevented creatures of the lower planes from setting foot on the island of the elves. But Kileontheal would not be mistaken about something like that, would she?

“Araevin? Are you well? You cried out,” said Ilsevele, who stood at the door of the chamber, a dressing gown wrapped around her body against the cold breeze.

“Demons are attacking the Tower,” he said numbly. “The high mages have summoned the circle to its defense. I must go at once.”

“I will saddle Swiftwind,” Ilsevele said.

“No, it would be a ride of hours. I will teleport there immediately.”

“Can you take me?”

Araevin fumbled with his belt, sparing her a single glance. “Yes, but-something is very wrong, Ilsevele. I do not know what sort ofdanger is waiting there. Maybe you should-“

Ilsevele’s eyes burned as she said, “Don’t you dare suggest that it might be too dangerous for me, Araevin. I am one ofthe best spellarchers on this island and I am an officer in the Queen’s Guard. If you can take me, you will.” She ducked out of the chamber, only to reappear with her belongings. Slipping out of her dressing gown, she shrugged a light arming coat over her shoulders and began to lace it up as quickly as she could.

Araevin quickly rummaged through the small chest he’d chosen to serve as his dresser and found a long vest ofunusual cut. Itwas fitted with numerous pockets and a long bandolier filled with the ingredients and reagents he needed to cast many of his spells-carefully formed rods of crystal, spirals of copper, pinches of silver powder and dried blood, all the physical components needed to invoke his magic. Then he dashed out into the front hall for his cloak and staff. He was not as well-armed as he might like, since he had only two wands at his belt, but then he had not expected to be summoned into battle when he left the Tower.

“I am ready to go!” he called to Ilsevele.

“One moment!” she said. “I have to set Swiftwind loose. He can find his way back to my father’s house.”

She hurried past him out into the night, then returned, still lacing up her mithral shirt as she gathered her things. She slipped her feet into stout calf-high boots, threw the green cloak of the Guard around her shoulders, and uncased her bow. It was a powerful weapon of deep red yew, crafted from a rare and magical tree found only in Evermeet. She strung it with a single efficient movement.

“By the way,” Ilsevele said, “I hope you’re skilled with your teleporting spell. I don’t want to find myself a few miles out in the ocean ifyou miss.”

“Don’t be concerned.” Araevin paused to consider where he needed to go. Kileontheal’s call was no more than ten minutes old, but who knew what might have happened in that time? “I’ll take us directly to my workshop. It’s somewhat out of the way, so I should hope we wouldn’t appear in the middle of a battle. And I’ve a few things there that might prove useful, ifmatters are as desperate as the high mage indicated.” He extinguished the soft lanterns all around the house with a gesture, then took Ilsevele by the arm and spoke

the complex words of a spell.

Magic surged through him like a jolt of living fire, powerful, intoxicating, and frightening all at once. There was an instant of icy darkness, a sensation like falling but subtly different, and Araevin and Ilsevele stood in a large, cluttered chamber. Parchment notes lay scattered haphazardly across the workbenches, and a row of narrow theurglass windows looked out over the seaward walls of

the Tower on one side ofthe room. Ilsevele winced and set out a hand to steady herself against the wall.

“Well, you missed the ocean, so we must be in your workshop,” she whispered. “Nothing seems out of the order here. Where now?”

“The great hall,” Araevin said. “But first….” He crossed the room quickly to a theurglass-faced cabinet built into one wall. He whispered an arcane word, and the glass door of the cabinet vanished. Theurglass was strong as steel at need, but those who knew how could dismiss it into nothingness or call it back again with a word. Inside the cabinet lay the laspar-wood wand

he’d been working on, as well as four more wands and a shirt of gleaming mithral mail. Araevin quickly donned the mail shirt, which was so light it scarcely interfered with even the most difficult spellcasting. He took a wand

made of dark zalantar wood, ignoring the others. That one he had ensorcelled with a powerful spell of disruption, meaning to have it at his hip the next time he traveled in Faerun.

Feeling somewhat better prepared for whatever he might find, he moved to the workshop door and carefully pulled it open, peeking out into the corridor outside. It was dimly lit by enchanted lamps at wide intervals, and

showed no signs of enemies or friends. In the distance, some destructive spell rumbled menacingly, shaking the Tower, and Araevin caught the ring ofsteel on steel from far away.

Araevin set off at a trot, gliding swiftly and softly along the hallway. His workshop was high in a little-used tower. He quickly checked the rest of the floor, and descended a winding staircase to the level below. On the landing he

found thefirstofthefallen-one oftheTowerguards, savagely clawed or bitten around the face and throat. Araevin could do nothing for her, and so he and Ilsevele continued, following a long hallway to one of the Tower’s libraries.

The door stood ajar, with another guardsman lying unconscious at its foot. From the room beyond, Araevin caught thehiss andcroakofsinistervoices. He glanced at Ilsevele and gave her a steady nod. She set an arrow to her string, and nodded back.

Araevin kicked open the door and stormed inside. Two hulking hellspawned monsters, demons or devils or some such creature, crouched inside, pawing through the books and scrolls. They had chitinous bodies of deep red, and

beaklike maws beneath green, multifaceted eyes. Their long arms ended in horrible talons that dangled below their knees. A third creature, almost human or elfin appearance except for his red, fine-scaled skin and sweeping batlike wings, stood across the chamber, examining tomes laid out

on a great table beneath the windows.

A demon-elf? Araevin hesitated, certain his eyes had deceived him. The features were elf enough-narrow skull, subtly pointed ears, eyes gently inclined down at the inner corners-but hellish malice glowed in those

green eyes, and the bared teeth were small, sharp fangs. His stomach twisted in horror as the monsters wheeled to face him, jaws clacking, while the winged one started to bark out the words to a spell.

From over Araevin’s shoulder, a pair of silver arrows streaked out and took the first of the insect fiends in the jaw, vanishing up to the feathers in its foul mouth. It went to all fours, black blood gushing from the wound. Araevin

leveled his wand at the others and snapped out the wand’s activating word. A shrill, deafening sound split the air as a coruscating blue bolt sprang out from the wand. It blasted past the second insect creature, who ducked away from

the blast and snatched up an iron trident, but it caught the winged demon-elfin the midst of his spell and hammered him into the other wall. Bookshelves splintered and heavy tomes cascaded down on the creature.

“Taksha! Erthog! Slay them!” the winged one cried out.

The insect fiend took two steps and hurled its heavy iron trident at Araevin, who yelped despite himself and twisted to one side. He stumbled out of the doorway as the weapon thudded into the door with enough force to

bring all three of its points clear through the thick oak. Araevin scrambled to his feet to cast a spell, sending five streaking missiles into the hellborn monster attacking him. The creature came on undeterred, its great talons

raking inch-deep furrows in the wall behind him.

“Araevin! What are these things?” Ilsevele called. She darted into the room herself, circling behind a table and loosing more arrows at the hellspawn. One arrow shattered on the thick plates of the creature’s shoulder, but another sank into the eye of the monster who already had two in its throat, and a third punched a hole through the membranous wing of the red-scaled sorcerer, just

then picking himself up from the ground after Araevin’s disrupting bolt.

“Mezzoloths!” Araevin answered.

He’d never encountered the things himself, but he had read oftheminhis researches-mercenaries ofthe lower planes, powerful fiends who served any master who could meet their price. The monster Ilsevele had shot crumpled

to the ground and abruptly discorporated into black, stinking mist, returning back to whatever foul plane it had been summoned from.

Araevin danced back from his own adversary to gain himself room to use another spell. Having observed the damage wreaked in the library by his first disrupting bolt, he didn’t want to use the wand again unless he had

to. He started on a spell ofdismissal, but the winged demon-elf beat him to the punch, hurling a brilliant white orb into the fray. The spinning white disk exploded into a blast of unearthly cold and razor-sharp splinters ofice,

peppering both Araevin and Ilsevele, as well as the pursuing mezzoloth. Araevin grunted in pain, but he kept his feet.

Enough of this, he thought. No sense saving my spells if I let these creatures claw Ilsevele or me to death.

He allowed himself to slide away from the mezzoloth raking at him while carefully focusing his attention on a deadly spell. The insectile monster surged forward, seeking to overwhelm him before he could finish, but Araevin snapped out the last word just as the fiend’s beak descended toward him. From his outstretched finger a brilliant emerald ray sprang, taking the mezzoloth full

in the chest. The creature seemed to glow bright green, screeching in agony, and it discorporated into sparkling dust and streaming, foul smoke.

Araevin shifted his attention to the bat-winged sorcerer across the room. The demonspawn, hobbled by arrows in its hip and thigh, snarled out a vicious curse that wove a wall of darkness behind it as it ducked through the opposite

door.

“Araevin! I can’t see it!” Ilsevele cried.

“It fled,” Araevin said.