The Companions s-1

by R. A. Salvatore

CHAPTER 15

  NOT WITHOUT A COST

  The Year of Splendors Burning (1469 DR) Shade Enclave

  Settled along the western wall of the Netheril’s floating capital city of Shade Enclave was a compound that seemed as out of place within that city of harsh black spires and foreboding walls as the city itself, which sat atop a floating inverted mountain of stone, seemed out of place in a world that obeyed the basic laws of nature.

  This compound was called the Coven, and Catti-brie found it a most interesting keep indeed. Here Lady Avelyere and her devoted followers, all female, and all except for Catti-brie, Netherese, practiced and studied, engaging in contests throwing lightning bolts as archers might compete with arrows. Here, in protected rooms with cautious oversight, sorceresses of varying skill dared to try out new spells, or combinations of known dweomers pieced together for new and greater effect.

  In the basement was a summoning room of careful design and meticulous crafting, lined with powerful runes to prevent some demon or devil from breaking free of the room even if it managed to overpower the summoning wizard.

  The Coven stood as a testament to magical learning, and as functional as the place might be, it was surely beautiful, crafted with a woman’s eye and a cultured vision of comfort and sophistication. The exterior view was not dominated by a large central tower, as was so often the case in this dour city, and often the case among the abodes of wizards in the Realms, particularly with male wizards, which led, of course, to no small amount of lewd joking among the sorceresses of the Coven, but by several domes leafed in various precious metals. Leering gargoyles did not stare down from every in the general directionar5N3 Garumn’s Gorge;src: url(kindle: embed:000 corner of every roof, but gutter spout statues of shapely sirens and nymphs, and cheerful brownies overlooked the compound.

  The keep’s interior proved no less appealing to the eyes, with fine fabrics all around, as rugs and tapestries gaily decorated and vibrant with color dominated the decor. Sweeping stairways lifted the imagination and large windows, many of colored glass, brought in ample light for study in most of the many rooms. The place was airy and clean, with the younger students assisting the many Bedine servants, often magically. Indeed, the first spells Catti-brie learned in her first tendays at the Coven involved conjuring a magical invisible servant, and creating water, wind, and magical light: four especially useful practices for illuminating cobwebs, blowing them away, and cleaning up after them.

  Strangely, to Catti-brie, this keep in particular, and Shade Enclave in general, evoked memories of both Silverymoon and Menzoberranzan all at once, for they held the sweeping and grandiose beauty of the former and the magical decorative improvisation and sheer otherworldliness of the latter. Surely the Coven stood far apart from the other structures of the teeming city of Shade Enclave, and seemed perfectly out of place among the shadowy and hard-edged dark structures that otherwise dominated the city.

  Her first few tendays in the keep of Lady Avelyere were not unpleasant, with an easy combination of chores and studies-studies Catti-brie was more than happy to devour. Her goal was to grow strong in the Art, and this place afforded her that exact opportunity. Her training under her parents had been acceptable, if limited, but this … this was a grand academy with instructors quite proficient in the various schools of magic, from fire-throwing, explosive evokers, to diviners, to those skilled at summoning creatures from the nether planes.

  She was not mistreated. The beating she had taken upon her capture seemed an anomaly, an initial warning and nothing more, and the other women of the Coven welcomed her now, particularly Rhyalle, who assigned Catti-brie a room very near to her own.

  Yes, this place would suffice, and indeed help her in her ultimate goal. Catti-brie went at her studies with great determination-and with far more insight and previous experience and training than her mentors could ever anticipate.

  She excelled, and the sorceresses of the Coven pushed her all the harder.

  And she excelled, still.

  To her surprise, however, within a short while, Catti-brie did not find any real level of contentment with this arrangement, for uneasy feelings gnawed at her through the days. She could not speak with Mielikki, could not offer worship to the goddess who had given her this second life. Shade Enclave was a city devoted to magic, and in an empire that had once tried to unseat a goddess and claim supremacy over magic for its own spellcasters. In her very first days in the Coven, Catti-brie had been asked repeatedly about her proficiency with healing powers, from whence they had come, and her apparent druidic abilities.

  She had deflected the question with shrugs and incredulity, wisely insisting that she didn’t even know that the two types of magic, arcane and divine, were of different sources. That had apparently satisfied her captors, but not in any way that made her comfortable to even attempt any contact with, or to offer any prayers to Mielikki in the home of Lady Avelyere.

  She thought of Niraj and Kavita constantly, and prayed that they were well. Lady Avelyere had hinted that she knew of Kavita and Niraj’s secret, which came as a veiled threat to Catti-brie.

  So it was one night that Catti-brie crept from her room and made her way quietly on bare feet to the back wall parapet of the Coven. There she looked up at the city wall, not so far away, and saw that it was unguarded. She closed her eyes and began a spell.

  “If you become a bird and attempt to fly away, I will loose a bolt of lightning that will blow you out of the sky,” came the voice of Lady Avelyere behind her. The young girl froze, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

  Catti-brie swallowed hard, trying to sort out her next move. She reflexively glanced up at the sky and wondered how long it might take her to create enough of a disturbance above for a lightning bolt to come to her call. It was a ridiculous thought, though, for even if she managed such a thing, powerful Lady Avelyere would easily destroy her.

  “Do not make me regret taking you in, little Ruqiah of the Desai,” Lady Avelyere went on, coming closer.

  “N-no, Lady, of course not,” Catti-brie heard herself stammer.

  “You have no permission to leave,” the diviner insisted. “I spared your life on condition of your acceptance into my school, and now that you are here, the rules apply, dear little Ruqiah, and without exception.”

  “I wasn’t leaving,” Catti-brie replied.

  “Oh, but you were. Do not take me for a fool, I warn. I heard your thoughts as easily as I watched you walk from your room.”

  Did Avelyere know, then, of Catti-brie, and not just of Ruqiah? Did she know of Catti-brie’s devotion to Mielikki? Had everything Catti-brie feigned when captured just unraveled?

  “Then you know I meant to return,” Catti-brie said, more forcefully and evenly now as she found her determination, her courage, and her grounding. If Avelyere knew everything about the girl’s secret thoughts, she wouldn’t be confronting Catti-brie on the wall of the Coven at this time, with so much at stake.

  “You are not allowed to leave at all,” Lady Avelyere replied.

  Catti-brie turned to face her directly. “I want to see my Ma,” she said.

  “Your mother is fine, and of no concern to you.”

  There was little severity in Avelyere’s tone, but Catti-brie knew enough to make it seem so, and thus, she began to weep, and wail, “I want my Ma!” repeatedly.

  Lady Avelyere moved right beside her and to Catti-brie’s surprise, embraced her and hugged her close. A moment later, the diviner dropped into a crouch and looked Catti-brie directly in the eye, brushing her reddish-brown hair back tenderly.

  “I know the secret of Niraj and Kavita,” she said quietly. “They are outlaws, upon my word, and the Twelve Princes of Shade Enclave will not deal with them mercifully, should they ever learn the truth.”

  Catti-brie cried all the louder and fell into Lady Avelyere’s embrace, whispering still, “I want to see my Ma.”

  After a long while, Lady Avelyere pushed the young girl back to arms�
� length. “You meant to become a bird and fly to the Desai,” she stated.

  “Just for a bit,” a sniffling Catti-brie assured her. “I meant to be back before dawn.”

  “Why should I believe you? You wish to escape.”

  “No, Ladyhe had returned to Faerunan;font-weight: bold;line-height: 1.3em;margin-top: 3emim, never!” Catti-brie insisted with all the diplomacy she could muster-it helped that she was speaking truthfully.

  “Then leave this place in the morning, forevermore,” Lady Avelyere said suddenly, spinning away. “Be gone from me, never to return!”

  “No, Lady, please! No!” Catti-brie pleaded. “Then I won’t go at all. I want to see my Ma, but not to leave this place! Never to leave this place! I learn so much here! Rhyalle is my sister now!” She kept her voice on the edge of panic, playing the part of a little girl, and Lady Avelyere’s smile back at her in response to those words showed to be a look of sympathy and not distrust.

  “I am going back to bed now,” she said after a bit. “I expect you awake and alert in the morning.” She spun on her heel and started away.

  Catti-brie caught the implicit permission that she could go, but just as she started to begin her spell anew, she realized that the child, Ruqiah, would likely miss that subtlety.

  “I may go, then, Lady?” she asked, all filled with hope and bubbling gratitude.

  “Child, I will see you in the morning,” came the answer, but then Lady Avelyere stopped suddenly and spun around, looking fierce once more. “And if not, then know that your parents will suffer the consequences of their crimes.” With that, she was gone.

  Catti-brie stood on the wall for a long while, trying to make sense of the encounter. Avelyere was letting her fly away, but to what end? Did she expect a more devoted student because she would allow this transgression, or was it perhaps the simple truth that this accomplished Netherese woman was not a merciless beast?

  The latter, Catti-brie, decided, even when a flash of terror crossed her mind in the fleeting thought that Avelyere was teasing her.

  She became a bird and flew away, and found soon after that her fears were unfounded, that Niraj and Kavita were safe in their tents, though certainly not “fine,” as Avelyere had insisted. Nay, they were distraught, mourning the loss of their beloved daughter.

  How abruptly that changed when Ruqiah appeared before them! Changed in the flash of smiles, in the warmth of hugs, and in her assurances that all was well, and all would remain well.

  The next morning, Catti-brie was hard at work on her studies when Lady Avelyere came to her again and pulled her aside.

  “You have expectations to fulfill,” she explained to the child. “Goals to meet, and I will hear no excuses when you fail me. You may go and visit your parents, once a tenday, but only on condition that you do not disappoint me.”

  Catti-brie couldn’t contain her smile, and it truly surprised her, yet again, at how much she wanted to play her childhood games with Niraj, and how badly she wanted Kavita to brush her thick hair and tell her tales of the Bedine, of her ancestors who were not even really her ancestors. Somehow that particular truth of her heritage didn’t seem to matter.

  She promised Lady Avelyere that she would be the best student the diviner had ever known, and she meant it sincerely, for all the reasons she had returned to Faerun, and also out of sincere gratitude for this extraordinary gesture. She would meet and exceed every expectation put before her.

  The Year of the Dark Circle (1478 DR) Shade Enclave

  The small flicker of flame flew out from the young woman’s hand, into the midst of her orc enemies, and there exploded into a fireball, immolating the group.

  Her blue eyes squinting against the glare, the sorceress mentally reached into that fire and brought forth a sprite of flame, a living ally fashioned of the fiery element. The sorceress only focused on it for a moment, binding the flames, creating the sprite, and then she turned aside. But the sprite knew what to do, and leaped and skipped across the rooftop, leaving a line of wisps of smoke and sparkles before springing into the chest of the next nearest orc.

  The sorceress turned left and swept her arms down and across from left to right, and as if she had thrown forth flaming liquid, a line of fire rushed along the edge of the roof, sealing that flank with a wall of hot-burning flames.

  She kept turning left, ducking and spinning, then coming up fast to meet the approach of a handful of orcs. Her thumbs together, her fingers spread wide, she called forth her fourth spell, and a fan-shaped sheet of flames flew out over the enemies. The sorceress dropped low, as if to avoid any swings or thrusts, and kicked out with one foot into the knee of the nearest orc, just for good measure, and just because she enjoyed the sensation of a physical strike.

  A slow clapping sound began behind her, from the doorway of this one flat rooftop in the Coven.

  Catti-brie stood upright, straightened her clothes, took a deep breath, and slowly turned to face Lady Avelyere.

  “An interesting display,” the diviner said. “You fancy yourself a battle-mage?”

  Catti-brie stumbled a bit. “I … I like to be prepared.”

  “For battle.”

  “Yes.”

  “You understand that you live in a city, surrounded by your sisters in the Coven and the forces of Netheril? An unparalleled city guard and the great Twelve Princes?”

  Catti-brie lowered her gaze. She had expected something along these lines, given Avelyere’s tone and rather sour expression. A sudden pop from the side startled her as the flames biting at one of the orc training dummies found some life in an air pocket, or a bit of sap in the wooden base pole, perhaps.

  “You’ll spend far more time in social gatherings than on battlefields,” Lady Avelyere remarked, moving over to join her. “You will find your missions in service to the Coven more those of information gathering and coercion, as I have repeatedly told you.”

  “Yes, Lady,” she said. “I practice those spells as well …” As she finished, Lady Avelyere cupped her by the chin and forced her head up that they could look each other in the eye.

  “Dear Ruqiah, what is this fascination you have with flame?”

  Catti-brie licked her lips, honestly considering the question, for in truth, she had wondered that herself. Of all the schools of arcane magic available to her in her training, she admittedly found herself most comfortable with, and most proficient with, those of evocation, shaping spells of explosive and deadly force. And of those many spells, she did indeed fancy those concerned with the element of fire-at least for her arcane studies. She already knew how to bring down a bolt of lightning, after all, and had been able to do that with lethal force since her earliest days. Indeed, ten years had passed since she had killed two Netherese agen a long while to realizeju;font-weight: bold;line-height: 1.3em;margin-top: 3emimts with such a bolt from the cloudy heavens above.

  Perhaps that was it, she pondered, though she would not tell Avelyere, of course, but deep inside, Catti-brie sensed that perhaps it was even something more. Her divinely inspired spells, which she still kept secret from Lady Avelyere and the others at the Coven, exercising her powers only on those occasions when she went to visit Niraj and Kavita, and even then, only in secluded places where she created gardens to honor Mielikki, allowed her formidable protection from the elements. In that advantage, she found fire especially appealing. She needn’t worry about unexpected blowback from a fireball with Mielikki’s protection wards glistening around her frame.

  Besides, she found that she truly enjoyed the eruption of a fireball, the flash of warmth and brilliance back at her, the explosive and cleansing power. She smiled, even though it wasn’t an appropriate response to Lady Avelyere, for she was thinking of Bruenor, her adoptive father. In her true formative years, Catti-brie had been raised as a warrior, a woman of action who would not shy from, who would indeed charge into, battle. The power of a fireball enthralled her, for it wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t quiet. Not in nature, but in nurtur
e, Catti-brie had more than a bit of the dwarf in her.

  Lady Avelyere’s sigh brought her back to the present situation, to realize that the older woman was shaking her head in obvious disappointment.

  “I had hoped for more sophistication from you, my young protege."

  CHAPTER 16

  DISMAYED GLORY

  The Year of the Dark Circle (1478 DR) Citadel Felbarr

  Bruenor’s heavy eyelids eased open, leaving a fuzzy grayness where before there had been only darkness. Gradually, painfully, the air around began to take shape, images coming into view in the low firelight, including two wide-eyed faces leaning in close, looking back at him intently.

  Bruenor noted an older dwarf male and a younger female, both dressed as clerics. The names Parson and Mandarina hovered around his thoughts, just out of reach. The two continued to study him, their expressions shifting from surprise to concern to, finally, relief and joy.

  “Blessed by Moradin,” said the woman, and she bent low and kissed young Reginald Roundshield on the cheek. “I’d thought we’d lost ye.”

  The other dwarf nodded his agreement. “And she’s been with ye since yer fall,” he explained to the dizzy and dazed dwarf lying on the cot in Citadel Felbarr. “Ain’t left yer side for a moment, that one.”

  “Arr Arr saved us all out there, don’t ye doubt,” said the woman-yes, it was Mandarina Dobberbright. “What a sorry and ungrateful friend meself’d be if I left him with healing to be done!”

  The other, Parson Glaive, nodded again. “Aye, but I thought ye’d be meetin’ yer father, me young friend.”

  “Bangor?” the confused Bruenor whispered under his breath, his lips sticking together with dryness.

  “Eh, what’s that then?” asked Parson Glaive, leaning forward.

  Only then did Bruenor’s sensibilities begin to return to the present. He considered what the female cleric had called him, “Arr Arr,” and remembered then that he was not King Bruenor, son of Bangor, anymore.