The Summoning (8 page)

By highsun of the twenty-first, Galaeron began to notice as many glares directed at him as at the humans. By dusk, people were rebuking him for endangering Evereska through his poor judgment. For one elf to be the object of so much public scorn was unheard of. Galaeron fell into a depression and no longer wished to leave Treetop. Vala told him to get over it. She wanted to see the statue of Hanali Celanil.

On the twenty-third day of Nightal, the phaerimm claimed the dwarven working, forcing Kiinyon and his last tomb guards to the surface. Reports circulated of strange monsters appearing in remote locations. Galaeron snapped at Keya, then realized she and Vala had become good friends indeed when Vala drew her dagger and threatened to geld him. He apologized, and the giant eagles of the Feather Cavalry darkened the skies for a quarter hour as they departed to reconnoiter the phaerimm breakout

Melegaunt suggested to Lord Duirsar that the Hill Elders command Kiinyon and the unnamed Highest Mage to accept his help. Lord Duirsar responded rather tersely that the Hill Elders had no more right to interfere with the field commanders than a human had to interfere with the governing of Evereska. After that, no more messages came for a while, though Aubric Nihmedu learned from other sources that the Army of Evereska was being dispatched to all corners of the Sharaedim, the Vale Guard had been ordered to establish a perimeter in the mountains around the vale, and the senior regiforms of both academies of the College of Magic and Arms had been ordered to stand ready. Melegaunt approached Galaeron to broach the idea of joining the battle without permission, and Galaeron was so frightened he almost agreed.

It was late that day when Vala came to Galaeron with puffy cheeks and tears in her eyes. At first, he thought Melegaunt had broken his word and left, but he dismissed that notion when she took his hands and held them to her lips.

“Galaeron, I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you.”

Tell me what?” Galaeron could not imagine anything that would make Vala cry “Have the phaerimm broken through?”

She shook her head. “It’s Aubric.”

“My father?” Galaeron did not understand. He had seen no sign that his father was preparing to journey west. “There’s nothing wrong with my father.”

“No.” Tears spilled down Vala’s cheeks. “No longer.”

Pulling Galaeron by the hand, she entered the contemplation, where Aubric Nihmedu lay on the marble reverie couch, his eyes open wide and a tome spread across his chest. He looked happier than Galaeron had seen him in decades, his lips curled into a slight smile and the furrows gone from his forehead.

No longer puzzled, Galaeron folded his hands over Vala’s and backed into the great room. When he judged they would not be overheard, he whispered, Thank you.”

Vala frowned. “Is that all? Don’t elves cry?”

“When there is cause.”

“A father’s death isn’t cause?”

“Dying?” The statement was so absurd that Galaeron guffawed, drawing a startled cry from the other room.

Vala glanced through the arch and grew as pale as a moon elf. “He’s back!”

“Back?” Galaeron’s father appeared in the archway “Where was I?”

“D-d-dead!” Vala’s knees buckled, and Galaeron caught her.

“Dead?”

Aubric looked to Galaeron for an explanation, but Galaeron was laughing too hard to explain.

‘Tour eyes were open,” Vala said. “I thought you were … gone.”

“Gone?” Finally, Aubric seemed to understand. “Oh, the eyes. You thought I was—”

“Dead,” Vala confirmed. “You weren’t moving.”

“The Reverie,” Galaeron said, still laughing. “Haven’t you wondered why we have no beds? Elves don’t sleep.”

Vala looked wary. “Everyone sleeps.”

“Not everyone,” said Aubric. “Though I suppose the Reverie could be considered a kind of sleep.”

“A little, perhaps.” Galaeron did not want to confuse the poor human.

“It’s a waking dream?” Vala asked.

“Not a dream, exactly,” Galaeron said. “We revisit the events in our lives.”

“Or we join with the community,” his father added.

Vala looked confused.

“To share our feelings,” said Galaeron. “It’s restful.”

Vala narrowed her eyes. “You all thought-speak?”

“It’s not speech, but we share.” Galaeron tried to think of how he could describe the Reverie. “You must have a family.”

Vala frowned, insulted. “Do I look like I was spawned?”

“Do you ever feel what they feel? Do you ever know what they need without asking them, or experience their pain from afar?”

Vala’s eyes lit. “Sometimes with my son. You feel that with all elves?”

“You have a son?” Galaeron was so surprised he did not register her last question.

“Yes, 1 have a son.” Vala ran her fingers down her sides. “You’ve seen me naked. Did you think this body could be barren?”

Galaeron felt the heat in his cheeks. “Of course not, but elf women—”

“Have no hips. Giving birth must feel like a gut stab.” Vala narrowed her eyes, then said, “Maybe that’s why you have such slim heads.”

“Without doubt!” Galaeron’s father clapped a hand on Vala’s shoulder. “You’ve a tongue on you like a Wood elf, my dear.”

Vala’s expression changed to self-reproach. “I’m sorry I forgot myself.”

“Not at all.” The elder Nihmedu shook his head in mirth. “1 haven’t enjoyed an argument so much since Morgwais was here.”

“Morgwais?” asked Vala.

The gaiety vanished from the old elf’s eyes as suddenly as it had appeared. “Galaeron’s mother. You won’t be meeting her.”

When no explanation was forthcoming, Vala looked to Galaeron, and a moment of awkward silence followed. Galaeron was spared the trouble changing the subject by the sudden flutter of wings. A streak of white circled the room three times before Manynests grew calm enough to perch on the elder Nihmedu’s outstretched finger.

“I was in here.” Aubric had to speak through the snow finch’s warbling. “Was it so much trouble to use the door?”

This quieted the bird somewhat He continued to zeee and

chirp, and even Galaeron’s father had to concentrate to keep up.

“When did Lord Duirsar last hear from them?”

The bird peeped, then continued for another twenty seconds. Finally, Manynests cocked his head, his wings twitching as he awaited a reply.

“Tell Lord Duirsar that the Swords of Evereska will leave within the hour,” said Aubric. “I took the liberty of planning for such a summons.”

The bird launched itself into the contemplation and was nearly at the window before Aubric could speak the command word to render the theurglass passable.

“That finch is going to break his neck,” said Melegaunt, entering the room ahead of Keya and the other humans. “Why so excited?”

“The Hill Elders lost contact with Kiinyon and the high mages an hour ago.”

“An hour ago?” Melegaunt fumed. “And they’re only telling us now?”

Galaeron’s father raised his hand. “There’s more. They can no longer contact anyone outside the Sharaedim.”

“What do you mean?” Keya frowned. “That can’t be right.”

“I doubt Lord Duirsar is mistaken,” said her father. “There is no response to his sendings, and those using the gates never return.”

“So any help Evermeet sends won’t arrive through Evereska,” surmised Melegaunt. “They’ll have to fight their way in from outside, with the troops sent by your other allies.”

“Other allies?” asked Aubric. “What allies would those be?”

“I’ve heard Evereska holds a special place in the heart of Khelben Arunsun,” said Melegaunt “Surely he is already mobilizing Waterdeep’s forces.”

“You are well informed,” said Aubric. “Khelben was the first human to visit Evereska, but we elves are a proud people.”

“He hasn’t been told?” Melegaunt closed his eyes. “What about Evermeet?”

“They were told, but no help was requested. Lord Duirsar has ordered the remnants of the Feather Cavalry to inform all elf-friends of our peril.”

“They’ll fail,” said Melegaunt. “The phaerimm would not overlook such an obvious thing.”

“Then it may be some time before Evermeet sends help,” said Aubric. “In the mean time, I must excuse myself. Duty calls.”

“Duty?” asked Vala.

“Father is the Blademajor of the Swords of Evereska.” Keya’s voice was as frightened as it was proud.

The elder Nihmedu nodded. “Lord Duirsar has asked us to scout and report.”

A look of relief crossed Melegaunt’s face. “Good. We’re coming with you.”

Galaeron’s father smiled warmly. “Would that you could, my human friend.” He shook his head.

“But as the commander, surely Lord Duirsar will listen to your wishes,” Melegaunt objected.

“No doubt, Lord Duirsar would,” said Galaeron. “But the Swords of Evereska are a noble militia. The title of blademajor rotates, and it could easily be rotated to someone else through the scheming of a few high nobles.”

“My command is tenuous enough.” The elder Nihmedu made no mention of why, but they all knew it was because of the blame being heaped on his son’s shoulders. He turned to Galaeron. “Manynests mentioned twice that the spell guard is watching the city exits. You and your friends would do nobody any good hanging in bone cages.”

Galaeron studied his father. “You have nothing to fear on our account. I only wish we had nothing to fear on yours.” He clasped his father to his breast. “Remember what you have learned from Melegaunt about these devils. No one knows them better.”

“I have marked every word.” Galaeron’s father returned the embrace, then separated himself and turned to Keya. “1 am sorry to leave you alone, my daughter. Will you care for Treetop until next 1 return?”

“Of course.” Keya buried herself in her father’s chest. “And you won’t be leaving me alone. Galaeron and his friends will keep me company.”

Galaeron and his father exchanged a look over Keya’s head, then the elder Nihmedu turned to Vala. “It may be that we do not meet again, human. Should it prove so, know that your wit and beauty will be a treasure to me always.” He nodded toward Galaeron. “And it would do an old elf’s heart good to know you will watch after his son.”

“Then I’ll be glad to be of some use to an old elf.” Vala gave the blademajor a hearty embrace, but the bewilderment in her eyes suggested she did not yet fully understand what he was saying. “Sweet water and light laughter, my friend.”

The traditional parting caused Galaeron’s father to raise his arched brows. “Another day in Evereska, and there’d be no telling you from an elf.” He laughed and turned to the other humans. “Sweet water and light laughter to you all.”

Aubric was barely out of the room before Keya turned to Galaeron. “That was a strange thing to say. Where does he think you’re going?”

“He doesn’t know—and that’s how it must remain,” surmised Melegaunt. Not waiting for a confirming nod from Galaeron, he plucked at Vala’s silky green shift. “Get out of this and into your armor.”

“Armor?” Keya’s jaw dropped, and she turned to Galaeron. “You mustn’t let them.”

Galaeron took his sister’s hands. “Keya, I’m not letting them. I’m taking them.”

23 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

\Once they had descended Starmeadow Tower, the humans moved with surprising stealth, considering their armor and the difficulty of traveling in an invisible group. At times, Galaeron and Keya could not even tell the warriors were behind them. They descended Goldmorn Knoll and slipped past Dawnsglory Pond without drawing a second glance, and Galaeron grew confident their plan would work. They had to stop once and listen to a silver-haired matron assure Galaeron that no one blamed him for freeing the phaerimm and only Golds listened to Lord Imesfor anyway, but even she did not seem to sense the invisible humans.

The forest ended abruptly at the edge of Moondark Hill, where a low stone wall was all that separated them from the empty air. A crescent of green

pastureland lay far below, flecked with gray boulders, brown ponies, and emerald stands of fir. Beyond the pasture, the rolling patchwork of black-and-gold winter fields rose toward the mist-shrouded vineyards. The Swords of Evereska were visible on the highest terraces, their long column of ponies wagging like a tail as they rounded the last switchbacks into the forests of the High Vale. There were no other companies in sight, though Galaeron knew there would be a handful of Spellguards posted at the livery stations and the other entrances to the city

“Now is as good a time as any, unless we want to wait until dusk,” he said.

“We dare not wait.” Melegaunt’s voice came from the air behind Keya. “With the phaerimm, every hour is an eternity.”

Galaeron extended his hand. “I’ll need the rope.”

An invisible hand laid a thin coil of elven rope in his palm. Galaeron looped it over his shoulder and climbed a big duskwood, then crawled out on a sturdy limb well past the wall. He secured the line and fed the bottom out until it touched the pasture. No human rope—at least not that one person could carry—would have stretched so many hundreds of feet, but enough elven cord remained to create a large coil on the ground.

Galaeron returned to his companions and climbed down next to Keya. “All is ready Stay away from the cliff. If you touch it, Evereska’s defensive magic will cancel my spell.”

“We’re all going at once?” asked Vala.

“We must all stay within ten feet of you or become visible,” explained Melegaunt.

“That thread won’t hold five of us,” objected Kuhl.

“It would hold five stone giants.” Keya’s tone was anything but patient. “That’s an elven rope.”

The explanation was met with a wary silence, then Vala said, “On with you, Kuhl.” There was a lot of scuffing and grunting, then the thick branch sagged dangerously. “We’ll be waiting at the bottom, Galaeron.”

I’ll be along directly.”

Galaeron allowed the humans a few moments to begin their descent, then embraced his sister.

“Too long away,” he said, “too quick gone.”

“Next time.” She smiled bravely and touched her long fingers to his cheek. “Bring me no phaerimm eggs.”