The Night Parade h-4

by Scott Ciencin

  A hammer blow to the forehead would have been less jarring to Myrmeen. She looked away and gripped the reins of her mount so tightly that her knuckles became white.

  "How long has this been going on?" she asked.

  Raising an eyebrow, Reisz said, "How long have they known each other? You, of all people, couldn't see what was going on?"

  Swallowing hard, Myrmeen said, "I thought they were just friends. I wanted her to have someone she could confide in. She certainly wasn't embracing me in that regard."

  "You weren't doing much to encourage her, Myrmeen. And I don't believe you had much to do with this situation either-other than pushing Krystin away whenever she needed you, that is."

  Myrmeen tensed. "Have you forgotten she stole from us?"

  "She stole from you. Perhaps it was the only way to get your attention."

  "Strange words, coming from a Harper."

  "The situation is not exactly normal, Myrmeen. Perhaps when we stop next to make sure we are not being followed, I'll take Ord to the side and give him a few gentle urgings about how he should conduct himself with impressionable young ladies, and you can have a discussion with Krystin."

  Myrmeen frowned as she considered how Krystin would take it. "One of the things I've always hated most is having someone else tell me what to do."

  "Then you won't accept my suggestion?"

  "No, you're right," she said. Myrmeen set her gaze toward his face, noting the obvious compassion that softened his scarred features. "Reisz, there was a time when I needed to be taken care of and you were-"

  "I think I should see how Shandower is faring. He could still get delirious from his wound."

  Abruptly, Reisz prodded his mount forward and left Myrmeen to ride alone for a time.

  Night had fallen before Myrmeen had a chance for a quiet moment alone with Krystin. Despite Shandower's warnings that they all should remain together, Myrmeen took Krystin to the shore, where they waded into the gulfs cool, refreshing waters after removing their leathers and boots. Both women were expert swimmers, and before long they were tussling in the waters, holding each other's heads below the surface and racing each other back to shore. Afterward, they lay on the beach, the cool white sand clinging to their bare bodies in the strong moonlight. They stared up at the pinpricks of light visible beyond the layer of drifting clouds that sometimes stepped in front of the waiting moon.

  "Your arm," Myrmeen said. "It's bleeding again."

  Krystin tensed visibly. "The healer said it might from time to time-nothing to worry about."

  Myrmeen picked up a sheer dressing gown she had taken from her bags and returned to the waters. She wetted the gown and wrung it out as if it were a worthless rag rather than an expensive import. When she returned, Myrmeen took Krystin's arm and dabbed at the gash, cleaning out any sand that may have lodged in the wound.

  Krystin was surprised by the softness of her mother's hands. From what she had gathered about the woman's past, she had expected Myrmeen's skin to be hard and worn by her trials, as toughened and leathery as her demeanor had been after their first day together. What she had seen tonight had made her question the validity of that appearance.

  Both women could sense that the walls separating them were finally beginning to fall. They shared an excitement that was laced with trepidation as they stood together on the brink of a new and terrifying journey.

  Myrmeen talked about her childhood in Calimport, her father's death, her involvement with the Harpers, her service as a ranger, and her marriage to Dak. Krystin rolled over and stared into the older woman's eyes. For a moment she thought she could become lost in the deep blue recesses of Myrmeen's eyes, or sail away forever on the sails of the bright golden ships that made anchor there.

  The older woman held nothing back. She answered Krystin's every question, no matter how personal or intimate. At last Krystin relaxed and admitted that much of her imposing demeanor was nothing more than a facade, particularly in the area of romance.

  "Then you've never-" Myrmeen began.

  "No," Krystin replied sharply. "But you've done it a lot, haven't you?"

  "If you want the truth, then I don't know how many men I've thrown myself into bed with over the last ten years, since my second husband was killed. But I can tell you this: I know exactly how many of them I've made love with."

  "It's the same thing."

  "It isn't. That's my point."

  "How many?"

  She thought of Reisz. "Only one."

  Krystin closed her eyes and began to shiver. "Do you think Ord is too old for me? Too experienced, maybe? I think he wants more than I'm ready to give. Do you think?"

  "What do you think?" Myrmeen asked softly.

  "Yes," Krystin replied. "I don't think I'm ready."

  Myrmeen stroked the child's hair, which was much like her own. If you were a little older, we could be sisters, Myrmeen thought. She had barely mentioned the sister she had lost and her mother's tale of the Night Parade when she was a child, and she purposely avoided mentioning the night her daughter had been taken during the great storm.

  "Let's go back," Myrmeen said. "You're shaking."

  They dressed and returned to camp, where Shandower handed Krystin her emerald locket. The girl fastened the clasp behind her head as Myrmeen lifted her hair out of the way. Reisz came back with Ord ten minutes later, and the young man did not seem pleased. He smiled weakly to Krystin, announced that he was tired, and curled up on the other side of the small fire they had built.

  "Have you seen anything?" Myrmeen asked. "Any hint that we are being shadowed?"

  "Nothing," Shandower said.

  "I wish Lucius were with us," Krystin said.

  "We all wish that," Myrmeen said quickly, realizing she missed him deeply. He had been more than their protector; he had become a trusted friend. "Burke and Varina, too."

  "I'll take first watch," Reisz said. "The rest of you, try to get some sleep."

  "We should change first," Myrmeen urged as she took Krystin's hand and glanced at one of her travel bags. "My leathers became damp, yours too. Neither of us will be worth anything if we get sick sleeping in wet clothes."

  Krystin agreed. They found a pair of dressing gowns and retreated behind a boulder, where they changed clothes, then returned to the fire and placed their leathers as close to the flames as they could. Myrmeen lay down first, her back turned to Krystin, who decided to sleep beside her. Neither had bothered to lace the backs of their gowns, and, in the fire's flickering yellow light Krystin was able to see a network of scars upon her mother's bare back. She said nothing about it and tried to fall asleep, but was still awake half an hour later, thinking of the wounds her mother had endured.

  Krystin shifted and felt the hard, cold weight of the emerald locket slap against the top of her breasts. The chain around her throat felt like a garrote.

  Why did you do it, she chided herself. You should have let the bastard kill you. You should have warned Myrmeen.

  Knowing that she would not be able to sleep as long as she wore the locket, Krystin removed the cold metal amulet and placed it in her pouch. She curled up behind Myrmeen, looked at the scars on the woman's back, and remembered her words: They can be marks of courage. I have several myself, each with its own story to tell.

  While Myrmeen slept, Krystin gently traced each of the dozen scars she counted on Myrmeen's back and tried to imagine where the woman had received each one. There were battles with the Black Robes, the Zhentarim, she was certain. Others had come from the raking talons of ores and hobgoblins. A fall from a great height, bucked from an evil dragon, accounted for another scar, and the fiery bolts of a clan of wizards, yet another. At least one, she was certain, had come from the hand of an over-enthusiastic lover.

  When she could no longer bear to stay awake, Krystin put an arm over Myrmeen, pressed her face into the woman's neck, and allowed sleep to come for her.

  That night, the nightmares left them in peace.

  Six
teen

  By Myrmeen's estimate, they had traveled six miles along the shores of the Calim River before Shandower signaled for the group to halt. They had been driven into the mountainous regions high above the river, making casual detours to the beach an impossibility. For the last two hours they carefully had made their way along one of the many tiers of rock chiseled from a cliff above the Shining Sea. The trail had been known only to Shandower. Before long, the path dipped treacherously and they were forced to lead their mounts. Their boots and the frightened animals' hooves slid too often for the comfort of anyone but Shandower, who had grinned as they had made their way down to a midlevel rise. The cliffs edge sagged, then rose again.

  They were stopped before a bare section of sienna rock. The rich blue sky played host to soft white mushroom clouds that might have been kingdoms for fairy folk, or so Krystin had imagined them, to help relieve the boredom of the journey. Far below, white foam licked at the rocks that composed the sea's pleasant shoreline.

  There's nothing here, Myrmeen thought, then realized, that's exactly the point. Shandower would not hide an object that could cripple an entire race of beings where people were likely to stumble' upon it every day.

  "Prepare yourselves," Shandower said as he leaned forward and kissed the closest stone. Before any of the travelers could wonder if he had lost his mind, the rocks faded, revealing a huge black mouth on the cliffs surface. One of the mounts reared, and Reisz quickly brought the creature under control, though the unexpected proximity of sorcery had set his own nerves jangling.

  Krystin's eyes adjusted first to the sudden darkness before them. "Caverns," she said.

  At the sound of her voice, the darkness was replaced by a soft yellow light that intensified as thousands of candles suddenly were lighted, one by one, in a pattern not unlike falling dominoes. The light revealed a breathtaking expanse of towering columns and branching pathways that were the soft brownish white of a dust storm, or memories faded by time. Myriad dripping stalactites, resembling icicles made of soft, burnished stone, hung from above. Craggy depressions interrupted the fine line work wrought by nature within the main gallery.

  Shandower led them inside, where they found an area laid out for the mounts to graze upon. "We'll have to carry everything from here."

  The friends gathered their supplies and followed Shandower as he led them through the labyrinthine depths of the caves that had served as his home when he was not waging his war.

  "Can anyone follow us?" Myrmeen asked.

  "No," Shandower said calmly. "The winds will wipe away our tracks, and the magic that allowed us to come inside is very particular. I don't think any of the Night Parade will be able to get past its test for admittance."

  "Why's that?" Myrmeen asked.

  "Because only love can open this doorway," he whispered.

  He guided the party to a small cavern where a boat sat upon a small pool of water. Ord and Reisz handled the rows for the one-armed man and soon they were floating across the waters in Shandower's boat. They passed beneath a canopy of ra-pierlike stalactites and drifted into a darkened passage.

  Krystin gasped as they entered a grotto that was lighted, not by arcane fires, but by something that appeared more majestic from a distance, and somewhat distasteful up close. "Glowworms," Ord said with a laugh. Krystin ignored his words. The view was spectacular. The chamber's jet-black, craggy roof was covered with tiny greenish white lights that sometimes flickered like stars and were grouped in patterns as beautiful as the constellations.

  "The fibers are sticky. They attract flies. That's why the lights flicker, when a fly is caught," Ord said. Krystin sighed. She had not heard a word. "The wall sealed itself behind us when we came in," Myrmeen said. "If this place is secure and there is no other way in or out, why is the air so fresh?"

  "There is a pit at the center of the caverns," Shandower said. "It drops to an incredible depth and the walls are un-climbable, the shaft very slick and nearly bottomless. Air comes in from a small crevice at the base and through tiny cracks all about this place."

  "What about the apparatus?" Ord said sharply. "You said it's here, didn't you?"

  "There's a niche on the wall of the pit," Shandower said as they passed into a well-lighted chamber. There they anchored the boat and walked to a heavy, wooden door that opened when Shandower raised his hand before it. "The apparatus rests in a box jammed into the niche." "That's all the protection it has?" Reisz asked. "No, it's guarded by spells purchased from the finest sorcerers in the Realms. Even I cannot touch it."

  They spent several hours exploring the wing that Shandower had secured for himself, surprised by the furnishings in many rooms. There were silk sheets, plush bedspreads, and ornate chairs, tables, and bureaus. These items stood out in sharp contrast to the frequently arched ceilings. Some of the chambers had flat ceilings, others were adorned with stalactites, and many were blasted smooth by hand or magic.

  Reisz urged Krystin to follow him through a small keyhole-shaped opening. They promised the others that they would return shortly, then departed. Reisz was concerned with the sudden change he had noted in Krystin's behavior toward Myrmeen. He had been encouraging Myrmeen to make peace with the girl, but now his instincts were warning him that perhaps Krystin was not to be trusted. Her acidic tongue had relaxed to allow gentle and kind words to leave the girl's mouth, and that unnerved him terribly.

  They entered a glowing crystal cave. The walls and unusual formations lining the cave appeared to have been carefully sculpted from glass and lighted by a secret inner fire. Even the ground beneath them radiated a pure silver light that glowed bright in places then dimmed and resurfaced several feet from its last manifestation.

  Reisz swallowed hard. He was not certain how to get what he wanted from this situation, or exactly what he hoped to prove. You're overreacting, he scolded himself. The child's been through every hell imaginable, fought at your side. She deserves better than an old warrior's suspicion.

  Krystin surprised him by asking a series of questions about Myrmeen. She wanted to know when he first had met her and what Myrmeen had been like as a child. With a little coaxing, she even managed to get Reisz to relate the tale of Myrmeen's embarrassing first mission as a ranger. She wanted to know everything, and the lights in her eyes danced with fascination at Reisz's every word. When they were finished, he knew his suspicions were misplaced.

  Krystin had stared into his face as he had spoken. He had beamed with pride, and the tiny scars marring his face had seemed much less noticeable. His face was relaxed, his eyes dancing with fire.

  "You're still in love with her, aren't you?" Krystin said.

  Watching his expression, she immediately understood her mistake. His eyes once again became dark, and he seized her wrist and dragged her from the crystal cave without saying another word.

  They rejoined the others and spent what remained of the day becoming acclimated to their surroundings and enjoying a feast that Shandower prepared with their assistance from his well-stocked food stores. After eveningfeast, the Harpers and Shandower discussed the future of his private war, which he agreed could no longer remain as such. It was decided that Ord and Reisz would be sent to Berdusk in the morning to enlist the aid of the Harpers at Twilight Hall.

  That evening, Shandower sat on a polished crystal bench in his chamber. He flexed the muscles in his remaining hand, darkly contemplating the magically charged gauntlet, which gleamed in the semidarkness. He whispered, "I wonder how many this one will kill?"

  The assassin sat alone in the gloom for several minutes, until a sudden panic consumed him. He raced through the room, lighting every torch and candle, then he checked the oil in his lanterns and fired each one. Soon the room was bathed in light, the shadows fully dispelled. He paused, realizing that he was acting like a child who was afraid of the dark, or a madman.

  Suddenly, he heard a sound from the corner of the room. His heart racing, he turned and held the gauntlet before him, the weapon suddenl
y wreathed in blue-white fire. A woman dressed in a beautiful white gown stood before him. She pulled back the shroud covering her face as she slowly approached him.

  "Mahrissah," he whispered, his senses rebelling at the sight of his dead wife. A trick! he thought. The monsters know everything. They are using the past to trick me.

  The woman did not slow, even when green strands of lightning flared from the glove. Her face was stunning, if slightly pale, her dark eyes reflecting the light shining from his weapon. Her eyebrows moved together as she gave him a mock frown. Then she laughed, her almost red lips pulled back in a wicked smile that he had seen many times.

  "Erin," she said as she took his hand in hers, the arcane fires from his weapon snaking across her skin to no ill effect, "You don't have to worry. I've come for you. It's time for us. Finally, my love, our time may begin."

  "You're not real," he said.

  She touched the side of his face with her free hand. Gently she raised his hand until the gauntlet was at eye level. "Take this thing off, that I may kiss your fingers, one by one. Then you may tell me if I am real."

  Shandower felt his legs weaken, and Mahrissah guided him to the bed they once had shared. "It can't come off. Don't you see, it's fused to my skin. The magic-"

  "The power does as you command," she said. "You are afraid to be parted from your weapon and so it makes that a near impossibility. Will it and it may be so. Anything you will, anything you desire, may be made so. You have only to want it, only to want me."

  His lips trembled as he said, "Mahrissah, you died!"

  "Yes," she said as she caressed his fingers, touching only metal that was now cooling, the magic fading like the surrender of twilight to the darkness. "bu buried me here, and you vowed that when it was your time, you would return here and we would be together. Erin, that time has come."

  "The battle-"

  "Will be fought and won," she said as she touched the stump of his severed arm. "You have already given too much. Come with me and be whole."