Lady of Poison (12 page)

“The Imaskari, extremely powerful and haughty wizards who worked great wonders with magic and created portals to many worlds, established one of the earliest human empires in Faerun. They were eventually brought down by slaves they’d kidnapped from other worlds; those people are now the folk of Mulhorand and Unther.”

“Portals … you mean like the Mucklestones?” wondered Marrec.

“Yes. They preferred a buffer between their portal endpoints, just in case. The Celestial Nadir was created to be that buffer. Originally, it was a small space, but after its creation, it slowly grew over the centuries, becoming a demiplane in its own right.”

Ususi continued speaking, warming to her topic, “More and more with the passage of time, the artificial plane served the Imaskari as a dumping ground for defeated enemies, objects stolen from other planes too dangerous to deal with immediately, and as a safehouse for valuables. However, even after the fall of the Imaskar empire, the Nadir continued to grow. It is my belief that in the thousands of years since then and now, the space has impinged upon other dimensions and demiplanes, enveloping them, and growing all the larger for it. Thus, the Nadir is more than it originally was intended to be. On the other hand, of the portals that once extended through its core to service the Imaskar empire, only the Mucklestones remain, at least as far as I have been able to discover.”

Marrec gazed out into the void, noting the firefly points as they drifted into and out of view. He realized that those points represented only motes of earth or objects that were somehow illuminated. Perhaps many others drifted unseen in the dark. He said, “What wonders could one find here, if he looked?”

“That is a question to which I have yearned to know, myself, though exploration of the Nadir could prove dangerous,” said Ususi. “The Mucklestones are important to me. That is another reason I must see this thing through.

I have to learn how much the Rotting Man knows of the Celestial Nadir, and if he intends further incursions. As I’ve said, some things that lie here should not be disturbed. There is a reason the Imaskar empire fell, beyond that of simple revolt, I believe. It is my fear that a remnant of that power might lie herein, unremembered, but potent should it be disturbed.”

Elowen had moved closer, leaving her mount in Gunggari’s care. She said, “You always said… I mean, what, if not a slave revolt, brought down the empire?”

“I do not know for sure,” murmured Ususi, “but I know one thing; it does not bear meddling if a taint of that power lingers here.”

After that they continued their march without speaking for some tens of minutes. Marrec was contemplating empty places of the universe, when Gunggari’s low voice interrupted his leaping thoughts.

The Oslander said, “Something is here with us.”

They stopped. Peering back along the stone track into the deepening gloom, Marrec asked, “What?”

“Something that buzzes. It is not confined to the path. The buzzing sound puts me in mind of an insect, a large insect. I’ve been hearing it since before the water bubble crossed our path, but it’s getting louder now.”

Marrec couldn’t hear it, but he knew Gunggari’s senses were sharper than his own. He continued to cast his gaze behind, but Gunggari shook his head.

“It is ahead of us. We’re drawing closer to it.”

Ususi said, “The only way out is through; we must go forward.”

Marrec nodded, and they continued.

It wasn’t long before all could hear the faint buzzing. It did sound like an insect, sort of like a horsefly, but deeper.

Ususi volunteered, “I don’t know that sound, but look there.” She pointed to the stone path ahead.

Marrec saw that the flat column of stone continued

on straight ahead without deviation, but there was a strange sheen to it, unlike the stone over which they’d already walked. The stone almost appeared to be coated with crystal, like the interior of a geode but without the brilliant color.

He asked, “What is it?”

Ususi shrugged, shaking her head. “It is a mystery to me, but it’s interesting to look at.” “Great.”

They continued moving but slower. The thin crystalline lattice below their feet crunched with each step. While not slippery, the uneven footing made the broad path seem a bit narrower and more precarious.

“I spy a mist ahead. It covers the path, but we must pass through it. Let us slow down a bit,” said Ususi.

Marrec realized that she was referring to the pale, wispy-white mist that was coming into the light shed by the Keystone lamp. It billowed like a cloud ahead of them, a vast cloud that had settled upon the path.

Ususi continued, “Let me go ahead and make certain it is safe to enter. I expect that it is harmless… but I would rather be sure.” She seemed less sure of herself.

They waited as Ususi strode to the periphery of the diaphanous cloud. As she approached, the mist churned and gave way just slightly. The mage raised her other hand and concentrated. Arcane syllables fell from her lips.

Finally she turned and said, “Ectoplasm. It is ephemeral and harmless. I am not sure why it has been drawn into this space; it is normally a purely astral phenomenon.”

Marrec was not familiar with astral phenomena, but he thought that the milky strands and gossamer draperies lent the path a dreamlike quality. He motioned for the rest of the group to follow behind. As they moved forward, the geode-like quality of the path become more apparent. He decided that the mist and the crystal were associated. The buzzing grew louder.

“Be alert,” called Elowen from behind. “That noise has

a predatory sound to it—it is something a hunter might make to flush out prey or freeze it with fear.”

Marrec sighed but managed to get Justlance from its sheath on his back with one hand while maintaining a grip on the horses, and not a moment too soon.

A white-bodied creature punched through the mist from above, its buzz becoming a roar of rapid-beating wings. It was like an albino wasp, though a wasp grown as large as a man. Its wings, stinger, and even its eyes were milk white. It almost seemed a sculpture of purest ivory, though animate and hungry. As it stooped on Ususi, Marrec cast Justlance.

His spear leapt at the swooping monster; the creature broke off its dive seconds before striking the mage to avoid the spear. Justlance continued its trajectory into the void. Marrec felt a moment of disquiet, watching his spear drop away; he didn’t fully understand the properties of the artificial space. What if… Justlance slapped back into his grip, and he stopped worrying.

He could hear Ususi muttering,.. should have discorporated long ago—what could allow a construct to persist so long? Maybe it’s newly constructed…”

“Heads up!” shouted Marrec.

The white wasp returned for another pass. He worried that it didn’t have to bring its stinger to bear to make a lethal attack. It only had to knock one of them off the path.

Two arrows, one following the other by only a few hands’ breadths, hissed into the beast’s abdomen. Elow-en’s work. The creature wavered, but it didn’t squeal or even bleed. He made a new conjecture—the monstrous white wasp was composed of compacted white mist, the ‘ectoplasm,’ that surrounded them.

The arrows hurt it. Its buzzing was erratic. Emboldened, he threw Justlance straight into the creature. The shaft of the spear continued through the creature’s body, exiting the other side. Apparently that was too much

disruption. The buzz of its rapidly beating wings ceased, and it dropped like a stone in a well, striking the stone path hard. The slap of impact was loud and ultimately lethal. The creature misted away, evaporating into so many disconnected milky strands. Marrec’s intuition had been right.

“Interesting ‘astral phenomena’ you have here, Ususi, but let’s go,” he decided. “There could be more.”

They began to move again but were still hindered by the uneven footing. Not more than twenty paces further along they discovered the source of the milky haze.

Ususi stood before a sort of outcropping on the path, or perhaps it was more like a gargantuan sculpture had fallen upon the path. It was a sculpture of real stone, too, unlike the wasp formed of clingy mist. The force of the sculpture’s fall had apparently broken it in two, for only the upper half of the figure, which resembled the rough form of a muscular man, remained; the midriff and lower portion must have dropped away in the darkness. The interior of the split sculpture was hollow and truly resembled a geode with its rough crystal coating. The hollow was large enough that two people could walk abreast into it. Purplish light was strong within that cavity, but it was impossible to see what generated the light without entering.

Ususi made as if to do just that, an eager expression animating her normal placid features.

“Ususi!” exclaimed Marrec and Elowen simultaneously.

The mage paused, her gaze sweeping across the group before finally coming to rest on Ash. She had the grace to look just the slightest bit guilty.

Marrec said, “That’s right. We’re not here to explore. We need to get Ash out of here. We’re putting her in jeopardy by our mere presence. We’ve already faced more threat than you indicated was possible here.”

Ususi didn’t move, torn between her task and her urge to explore.

Elowen coaxed the mage, “You can explore later, after we’ve gotten through to Yeshelmaar. Leave the exit open, and you can return on this very route.”

“Very well,” sighed Ususi. “Of course you’re right. Even after the Nentyarch relieves me of the Keystone, if I leave the exit open, any of us could return along this path.”

They marched past the enigmatic half-figure, its interior glowing with mystery.

^RieSTS

Xhe Great Dale is a long, fertile vale running three hundred miles east from the town of Uth-mere, a port city on the Sea of Fallen Stars. The Great Dale divides the Forest of Lethyr from the dark and deadly Rawlinswood, two of the greatest forests of Faerun. Governed by a council of druids, the independent clanholds of the Great Dale stand amid the ancient ruins of old Narfell, a demon-haunted realm whose dark legacy still threatens the surrounding lands even a thousand years after its destruction.

Near the center of the Great Dale, a great rocky tor rises from Lethyr forest. A pristine lake of clear, cold water stands at the foot of the hill. Carved into the tor is an old wood elf stronghold known as Yeshelmaar.

A hole opened in empty air near the tor. From it issued several travelers and their mounts: Two

women (one an elf), two men (one dressed quite barbari-cally), and a child on a pony. They travelers walked their mounts out of the dark into the grass. Horses and people seemed relieved to have reached the end of their journey.

Marrec studied the great fortress of natural stone and fitted blocks that crowned the great tor. “Yeshelmaar?”

The elf woman, Elowen, nodded confirmation. “The Nentyarch’s seat-in-exile, if Briartan was right. Look,” she gestured to the top of the natural fortress, where great green banners cracked and blew in the wind. “The banner on the right signifies the Circle of Leth, the one on the left, the Nentyarch. It is true; he is here.”

“This place looks old. What was it before the Nentyarch took over?” wondered Gunggari.

Elowen responded, “This fortress was built in the days when the Lethyr elves were faced with destruction at the hands of the Empire of Narfell, a sinister force to the north, but such battles are long past. The threat of old Narfell is long gone, but so are the elven-folk of Lethyr. Of the wood elves who once lived nearby, only a few small villages survive. The Circle decided the fortress would make an ideal base. When pressed, I guess the Nentyarch did, too.”

“Where were the Circle and the Nentyarch before?”

“The Nentyarch and his High Druids formerly dwelled together at Dun-Tharos in the Rawlinswood,” said Elowen in a low tone.

Before she could say more, several elves issued from a low gate on the hill and moved forward. They were dressed in the colors of the Circle and wore leathers, bore equipment, and were branded with insignia not dissimilar to Elowen’s. All had bows in hand but refrained from nocking arrows.

Elowen moved forward waving, and called, “Hail, hunters. I’ve returned with important news for the Circle and for the Nentyarch himself.”

The approaching elves stopped short, grins breaking

out on many of their faces. One who seemed less pleased continued forward, a man with darker green leather armor and a silver leaf-shaped pin clasping a sea-green cloak on his back. He eyed Elowen and the rest of the group carefully, paying particular attention to Gunggari, before returning his gaze to Elowen.

He said, “So the lone hunter deigns to return to the fold, after an absence of over two years.”

Elowen flushed but said calmly, “You know why, Fallon. I promised the Nentyarch that I would discover the origin of the blighted volodnis and what they sought to the south. I have discovered an answer to both of these questions, though more questions have surfaced. I have come to speak to Nentyarch.”

The other elf frowned, “Reports are customary during the interim of so long an absence, I need not remind you.”

Elowen’s chin jutted forward, “Let us see what the Circle has to say about it; such matters are not for a hunter to determine. As far as I can see, you are still a Nentyar hunter, Fallon.”

Marrec cleared his throat, interrupting what may have been a heated response on Fallon’s part, and said, “We seek an audience with the Nentyarch. We have information that bears directly on his governance of the forest and the movements of his enemy, the Rotting Man.”

The elves all blanched at that name. Fallon said with ill grace, “The Nentyarch does not turn away those who seek him. However, his Spring Court has concluded for the day. He will receive you tomorrow.”

“Hold on,” began Marrec, but Elowen laid a restraining hand on his arm.

She looked at Fallon and said, “Tomorrow is fine.”

Fallon turned, saying, “Then follow me. We can put all of you up tonight in guest quarters. You can freshen up, visit the Yeshelmaar market, small as it is, and restore yourselves before you see the Nentyarch, tomorrow, but,”