The Summoning (20 page)

Vala and Melegaunt seemed even less interested in Malik’s revelation than Galaeron. Vala pursed her lips as though wondering why the little man thought they should care, and Melegaunt merely tugged his beard and studied Galaeron.

Finally, he said, “Things didn’t go exactly as we planned with Aris’s rescue. How much did you strain yourself with the magic I showed you?”

“1 think of it as the cold magic,” said Galaeron. “A lot. There was no choice.”

Melegaunt’s face turned instantly stormy. “Fool! Did I not warn you against testing yourself with this magic?”

“I wasn’t testing,” said Galaeron. “There was no other choice.”

“There is always another choice,” said Melegaunt. “It would be better to surrender your body to the beholders than to surrender your spirit to your shadow.”

Melegaunt came forward and grabbed Galaeron’s head, then tipped it back and pulled his eyelids open.

“There it is. You’ve let your shadow inside.”

Galaeron’s stomach turned to ice. “Then get it out!”

“I can’t.” Melegaunt released Galaeron’s eyelids and

stepped back. “You must learn to control it, before it learns to control you.”

“Control it? How?”

“Carefully—very carefully,” said Melegaunt. “Shadows are subtle things. It will try to subvert your nature, to make you see the dark in everything around you.”

“See the dark?” asked Galaeron. “You mean dark motives?”

“In a way, yes. For every light, there is a shadow. It will make you look at the shadow instead of the light, to see how every noble act might be selfish. Gradually, you will come to see the darkness before the light. When that happens, you are your shadow.”

Galaeron’s throat went dry, and he could not bring himself to speak again.

“Galaeron, you must learn to do the hardest thing of all,” said Melegaunt. “You must always make sure you see the light before you see the shadow”

“That will be hard.” Galaeron thought of the suspicions that had been plaguing him the past few days, and of his decision to keep secret the way the cold magic had rushed into him during the battle against the bugbears. “Why did you ever show me this magic, Melegaunt?”

“Are you that weak?” Melegaunt grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “I give you the most precious gift in the world, and you call it poison? Your shadow is winning already, elf.”

The words hit Galaeron like a blow, for his trouble entering the Reverie had come with his doubts about Melegaunt’s character. Had the shadow been inside even then? Despite the cold, he felt flushed and sweaty.

“There’s something I should have told you about the bugbear battle,” Galaeron said.

“The new magic came to you?”

“Unbidden,” Galaeron replied. “When 1 cast my spells, it rushed in of its own accord. 1 had to concentrate to keep it out.”

Melegaunt nodded. “Looming death has a way of bringing

you closer to your shadow self.” The wizard stared at him. “It is more troubling that you kept it from me.”

“You keep so many secrets of your own.” Even to Galaeron, his tone sounded defensive. “And after you sicked the illithids on Lord Imesfor, I did have reason to doubt you.”

“We talked about that If you were not satisfied with my explanation, you should have said so.” Melegaunt’s voice lacked its usual patience. “This will be a struggle, elf, and I don’t know that you will win.”

Galaeron’s heart sank. “I don’t want this magic. There must be something you can do.”

“There is.” Melegaunt glanced meaningfully toward Vala’s sword. “And should you fail, I will.”

“It would be that bad?”

“It would,” said Melegaunt “And I am not here to release yet another evil on this world.”

“Nor would I want that. I will take your word as a promise.” Galaeron turned to Vala. “And one from you, as well.”

She raised her brow and glanced at Melegaunt. When the wizard nodded grimly, she shrugged and seemed a little sad. “I hope you know what you’re asking.”

“He is only asking what is right,” said Melegaunt He cast a wary eye eastward, where Thousand Faces stood hidden by snow and trees and far fewer miles than any of them would have liked. “We must be on our way. The beholders will come looking for us—”

“I will show you a safe way.” It was the first Aris had spoken. “You are going to the Delimbyr River?”

“A little beyond, yes,” said Melegaunt, “but that would be a good start”

‘Then follow.”

Aris turned up the narrow side gulch where they had made camp and started through the blizzard. Melegaunt led the way after him through knee-deep snow. With Malik’s horse breaking trail, they were just able to keep the giant’s looming silhouette from vanishing into the storm.

As they climbed, Galaeron barely noticed the slope growing steeper. He could not help being frightened—frightened of what he might become, more frightened of what he might cease being. Elves who could not enter the Reverie soon became something else altogether. Unable to share in a communion of like hearts, they grew immeasurably sad and lonely. Eventually, such lone wolves withered of despair or abandoned their home, preferring a life alone—or even among humans—to the constant reminder of the bliss they could no longer share.

Without that connection to his fellows, Galaeron did not know if he would have the strength to control his shadow. Even now, it seemed reasonable to be wary of Melegaunt. Humans were well known for treachery, and the wizard’s furtiveness certainly invited misgivings. Why wouldn’t he say who he hoped to find, or why he had been studying the phaerimm, or where this new magic came from?

It occurred to Galaeron that Melegaunt’s warning might be a scheme to make him doubt his own misgivings. Certainly, there could be no better way to quell a person’s suspicions than to make them an object of fear. Hardly had this thought flashed through the elf’s mind before another followed suggesting his shadow had planted the previous one. Galaeron had entered a maze of spirals, where every idea turned back on itself and no opinion could be trusted. He felt as though the ground had vanished from beneath the snow, leaving him to flail around helplessly until he grew tired of struggling and simply let the blizzard take him.

After a time, they crossed a high white meadow and came to a steep gully packed full of snow. Aris instructed them to stand well off to one side, then cupped his hands and gave a booming yell. There was a soft rumble so quiet and low Galaeron felt it more than heard it. In the next instant, a tremendous avalanche swept out of the gully and spread across the meadow

Aris waited a few minutes for the snow to stabilize, then

pointed up the chute. “The ridge on top descends into the Delimbyr Valley. Stay on the crest and follow it to the river. The trees are tall and thick, so you won’t be seen by any but a few stone giants traveling the same path. Don’t hide from them, and tell them what you did for me, and they will do you no harm.”

“And what of you, Aris?” asked Galaeron. “Will you be all right?”

“1 think not.” Aris’s voice was so angry and low that it felt like another avalanche barreling down the chute. He snapped the top off a thirty foot pine, then began to strip away the branches. “The massacre of my steading was a terrible thing, but what those eyes did to the Saga Caves … for destroying the work of two thousand years, I will make them pay.”

“Sadly, you will not,” said Melegaunt. “At least not alone. Will others of your kind help?”

The giant shook his head. “1 would not ask such a thing. The responsibility is not theirs.”

“No, but it is ours,” said Melegaunt. “Perhaps even more than it is yours.”

Malik’s eyes grew wide. “Think what you are saying—and who you are saying it to!” He craned his neck up at the giant. “The wizard speaks for himself.”

The giant paid no attention to the little man and kneeled down over Melegaunt. “Explain.”

“Do you know of the phaerimm?” asked the wizard.

Aris nodded. “I have seen their shapes in some of the old murals. A fell and powerful race, by the hewn stories.”

“And a cunning race,” said the wizard. “Though the beholders may not realize it themselves, the phaerimm are their masters. The phaerimm sent them to Thousand Faces to find us.”

“There is no fool like an honest one!” exclaimed Malik, clambering onto his horse. “I pray you have not killed us all!”

Neither Aris nor anyone else paid any attention to the little man. The giant merely considered the wizard’s words for a

time, then rubbed his long chin and turned to Galaeron.

“And even knowing they were looking for you, you risked all your lives to save mine?”

Galaeron nodded. “I could not have left you and lived with myself.”

“You nearly did not survive saving me,” said the giant. “That was not a wise thing to do.”

“It was wiser than you returning alone to face the beholders,” said Melegaunt. “We would join you if we could, but there is greater evil afoot, and we must continue on our way.”

The giant nodded. “It is enough that you rescued me.”

“You would be doing us a service not to waste our efforts by attacking so many beholders alone,” said Melegaunt. “You would be lucky to kill one or two.”

“Then that would be justice to one or two.” Aris glanced in Galaeron’s direction, then rose. “How could I live with myself, were I to fail my steading even in the little I could do to avenge its loss?”

“By doing more,” said Galaeron. He knew what the giant was feeling, for he had felt much the same thing as the phaerimm encircled Evereska. “Would it not serve your steading better to strike a blow against the ones responsible for what happened to Thousand Faces?”

The stone giant furrowed his heavy brow. “How can I do that?”

“By coming with us,” said Melegaunt, following Galaeron’s lead. “We are sworn to destroy the phaerimm—the same phaerimm who sent their beholders to Thousand Faces.”

Aris considered this for no more than ten minutes, a very short time for a stone giant, then said, “You must give me a promise in return.”

“If it’s within my power,” said Melegaunt.

“I think it is,” said the giant. “You must promise to accept my help until the end. If Thousand Faces is to be avenged, I must be part of it”

“Done,” said Melegaunt. “And I promise you this as well.

that the beholders who have taken your home are not long for this world. Before all is done, they will rue the day they laid eyes on your steading.”

“Then it is a pact.” Aris stooped down to pluck Malik out of his saddle.

“What are you doing?” Malik pulled a tiny dagger from inside his cloak and flourished it. “I must warn you—”

“The hill is a steep one,” said Aris. Paying no attention to the tiny dagger, he placed Malik on the ground and scooped up the little man’s horse. “I will carry this for you.”

Aris tucked the mare under his arm and started up the chute, not seeming to notice the beast’s flailing hooves and terrified whinnies. Malik scrambled after them, alternating warning the giant not to harm his Kelda and cooing words of comfort to the horse.

Galaeron and the others followed, and soon they were descending a snowy ridge toward the vast Delimbyr Valley. With Aris breaking trail, travel was fast. It required only a day and a half of solid walking to reach the base of the mountains, and the journey would have taken no more than a day had they not made two “brief* stops so Aris could warn giants coming in the opposite direction about the beholders.

As Galaeron listened to Aris’s sorrowful descriptions of the fate of Thousand Faces, he found himself thinking of Evereska. Surely, his own city remained untouched. Even the phaerimm could not breach the magic of the mythal—at least not so quickly. Or could they? According to Melegaunt, the phaerimm of Myth Drannor were drawn to the area because of the mythal, and they were great magic-users in their own right. What if they knew how to unweave its defenses? Once they entered the city, even the Spellguard would be unable to turn them back. Galaeron would become like Aris, a lone survivor with nothing to live for except vengeance. In a stone giant, such an existence was sad beyond words. In an elf, especially one struggling with his own shadow it would become an unspeakable evil.

Galaeron longed to move faster, to insist that Melegaunt use his magic to speed them along—even to journey into the Shadow Fringe again—but he knew better than to suggest such a thing. After the battle at Thousand Faces, the phaerimm would be scouring the area for any hint of spell use, and even Melegaunt’s strange magic would leave subtle incongruities in the world that would attract the attention of a careful searcher. Better to avoid magic altogether and let the blizzard conceal them.

The trip through the valley proved more trying. They were about halfway across when the blizzard blew itself out, catching them in the open a mile short of the river. Without a steady wind to fill their tracks, a party of bugbears soon spotted their trail and began to pursue. Instead of using magic to eliminate the threat, the companions rushed to the river and crossed the ice. When the bugbears followed, Aris hurled a few boulders into their midst, shattering the ice and plunging the entire band into the cold waters.

The companions were not so lucky the next afternoon, when two gray circles appeared just above the horizon. At first, the companions pretended not to notice their pursuers, hoping the pair would be foolish enough to catch up and attack. When the eye tyrants refused to take the bait, Melegaunt turned to cast a spell. The beholders vanished from sight. Perhaps a half-hour later, Galaeron glimpsed one creature still trailing them. The other was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s gone for help,” Vala surmised.

Galaeron nodded. “With luck, it will only be beholders.”

“Only beholders?” Malik gasped. “You are as mad as a cuckold in his harem!”

“Beholders would be better than phaerimm,” said Melegaunt. “Unless you intend to make our fight your own, now would be a good time to part ways.”

“So you can send your foes after me?” Malik’s dark eyes shined with indignation. “I am hardly the fool I look, old man.”