"Tell that to Durwyn." Even in his new lightweight armor, the big man was having trouble picking his way along the narrow, rubble-strewn staircase. He sent scree cascading with every other step. Kestrel observed the steep incline and smaller width of the stairs yet ahead-and the craters where steps used to be-and prayed the warrior would maintain his balance. Even she had trouble finding footing in some places.
Kestrel heard Ghleanna's voice call from behind Corran. "How do we find the 'focal point' the baelnorn mentioned once we reach the top?"
"No idea," Corran confessed, to Kestrel's surprise. She could not recall a previous instance of the paladin admitting to ignorance, "I'm hoping Anorrweyn will be waiting for us when we get there."
Kestrel paused and glanced around. They had climbed about a third of the way to the top and reached an elevation that provided a panoramic view of the Heights. Shadows dappled the structures below and grew longer with each passing minute. The setting sun also played tricks on her eyes-she could have sworn she saw movement on the ledge of a nearby building, but on second look she saw only grim statues perched watchfully along the rooftop. Gargoyles. She'd heard stories of the winged, horned beasts animating and taking flight, but she'd never put any stock in the accounts. Nursery tales, meant to scare children into staying indoors after dark. That's all she'd ever believed them to be.
She was starting to reconsider that opinion.
They climbed higher. The faint breeze that had tousled her hair now became a steady wind. The sun dipped behind the horizon, leaving only its upper hemisphere visible. Kestrel hated this time of day-twilight made the eyes play tricks. Were they halfway up the staircase, or further? Was that movement just now, off to the left? Though dusk could often prove a thief's best friend, right now she wished for full dark rather than the murky, ambiguous half-light
She stopped once more and listened to the wind. She'd swear on Quinn's grave that she heard low, guttural voices followed by the flapping of wings. Was that too an illusion, a trick of the atmosphere? "Do you hear that?" she asked Corran.
The paladin never had a chance to answer.
A woosh from above was all the warning they had before a pair of gargoyles swooped down at them. Kestrel ducked instinctively, while Corran raised his shield to block the sharp stone claws that reached toward him. The creatures shrieked at the failure of their surprise attack, then circled for another run.
"What in blazes was that?" Durwyn asked.
"Gargoyles," Kestrel and Corran answered in unison. Kestrel glanced around wildly for cover, but there was none to be had-the party was completely exposed. Faeril began to chant a prayer-spell that Kestrel hoped would offer some protection. Ghleanna and Jarial, meanwhile, started muttering words of their own.
The gargoyles descended again. This time two more had joined their ranks. One swooped at Ghleanna just as she completed her spell. The creature suddenly went rigid, unable to control its dive. It crashed against the side of the building and smashed to bits that rained onto the ground below.
Two other gargoyles met the same fate. The fourth plunged toward Corran with both its claws outstretched. The paladin struck the beast with his warhammer, but the weapon glanced off without so much as chipping the stone. The gargoyle's claws lashed out but could not penetrate Corran's new armor.
Undaunted, the creature circled and dove once more. As its horns rushed toward the paladin, Corran grabbed Pathfinder. Glowing with magical light, the sword impaled the beast as its head struck the paladin's shield. The creature dropped to Corran's feet, where it took the combined strength of Corran and Durwyn to shove it off the stairs and send it tumbling to the ground.
Kestrel cast her gaze skyward as the fighters disposed of the body. She did not see any more of the creatures approaching, but the hazy gray light camouflaged the stone beasts so well that she couldn't be sure. "We've got to move faster," she said.
They climbed only a few steps farther when more wingbeats echoed through the air. Half a dozen beasts approached this time, each targeting a different person. Ghleanna released another spell, paralyzing three of the beasts and sending them plummeting to earth.
Two of the remaining gargoyles suddenly reared up as Jarial completed a casting. They hovered three or so feet away, advancing then retreating, as if they had forgotten what they were supposed to do. One of them uttered a guttural word that sounded like a curse in any language, and flew away. The other flew in confused circles.
The last gargoyle dived headlong into Durwyn. Though its horns did not penetrate the warrior's armor, the force of impact knocked him off balance. He struggled to regain his equilibrium, tottering precariously on the edge of the staircase.
"Durwyn!" Kestrel watched him in horror. They were well over a hundred feet above the ground-it would be a long fall, with a deadly landing. She willed the fighter to catch himself.
Faeril lunged toward him, trying to reach an arm and pull him to surer footing, but the guard lost his battle with gravity and toppled over the edge. Faeril managed to grasp only his ankle as he disappeared from view. Reacting quickly, Jarial grabbed her legs before Durwyn's weight could pull the cleric over the edge as well.
"I… can't… hold him…" Faeril's face turned red with exertion as she struggled to keep her grip. Several highly unladylike grunts followed. Every muscle in her arms and neck bulged.
Corran scurried to help, but before he could reach them the gargoyle swooped again. The paladin's blade rang as he struck the creature. Faeril, meanwhile, had turned purple. Her perspiring hands were sliding off Durwyn's armor. "I'm losing him!"
"Hang on!" Kestrel couldn't aid her-too many people were in the way, and the space was too narrow. She could help Jarial, who also struggled to maintain his grasp. As she grabbed Faeril's legs, she heard the sorcerer beside her muttering another spell.
Ghleanna also uttered another casting, this one directed at the remaining gargoyles. Both creatures suddenly ceased moving. Their wings fell still. Then, as had the rest of their pack, they dropped like rocks.
Corran reached Faeril and added his strength to hers. "You all right?" he called to Durwyn.
"I can't find a handhold," he shouted. "It's a sheer drop."
"Don't worry. We'll get you up somehow." After reassuring the warrior, he tried to help Faeril pull him to safety. His efforts, however, were thwarted by Durwyn's sheer bulk. Corran lowered his voice so only those still on the stairs could hear. "We can't get enough leverage to pull him up."
Kestrel felt her heart skip a beat "I think Jarial is working on something."
Faeril released a groan. "Tell him to work faster."
A moment later, Jarial finished mumbling.
"Oh!" the cleric exclaimed. "Kestrel, Jarial… you can let go."
"W-what?" Kestrel stared at her in shock.
"I've boosted her strength," Jarial said.
Kestrel looked from him back to Faeril and reluctantly loosed her grip. Faeril rose to a crouch, some of the strain gone from her face. "Help me lift him," she said to Corran in a steady voice.
As the others watched in mute amazement, the cleric rose to her feet, bringing Durwyn's legs with her. Had she been taller, she could have lifted his whole body over the edge, gripping him by the ankles like a plucked goose. As it was, Corran guided the warrior's chest and head over the edge of the staircase while Faeril pulled him to safety.
"Damn…" Kestrel muttered. Magically boosted or not, she'd never seen a woman perform such an incredible feat of strength. Her voice was swallowed by the wind, which had changed direction and now carried a chill. The sun sank lower behind the horizon.
They continued up the stairs with as much haste as they could. Ahead, Kestrel saw a circle crowned by bony-looking spires. The dragon's spine, Anorrweyn and the Protector had called it, and now she understood why. The spindly arches looked like the vertebrae of a great beast They rose toward the darkened sky, somehow untouched by the missiles that had bombarded the stairs. The circle had to be thei
r destination.
The higher they climbed, the more the wind buffeted them about. By the time they reached the apex, their hair whipped about their faces and they had to shout to be heard. Lingering rays of sunlight streaked across the sky.
The party entered the circle with more desperation than reverence. Runes and intricate knotwork, similar to what they had seen inside the Hall of Wizards, covered the stone floor. About ten feet above, the bony spires arced toward a central hollow just large enough for a certain gem.
"Let's do this and get out of here," Kestrel said. Though she scanned the shadows, she saw no sign of the priestess. "Where's Anorrweyn?"
"We'll have to wait for her," Faeril said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kestrel detected movement in the near-darkness. She turned, scanning the sky. More wings, and lots of them. "We don't have time to wait." She pointed. "There's a whole flight of gargoyles coming at us! Put the emerald in place!"
Corran hesitated. "We don't know the-"
"Just do it!"
The wind had become a gale, speeding the gargoyles closer each second. In the light of the dying sun, Kestrel could see a sinister gleam of hatred in their eyes. They hurled themselves at the party with frightening velocity.
Boosted by Durwyn, Corran slid the emerald into its setting. The gem caught the last ray of light just before the sun faded from view. The beam sparked a glow in the emerald that immediately radiated in a sphere so large as to encompass the entire Speculum in a pale green aura.
The gargoyles, too fast and too close to change their course, slammed into the intangible field. Their bodies bounced off the barrier like hail.
"Such creatures of evil deserve nothing less," said a soft voice behind them. Anorrweyn had materialized. Despite the force field, wind still whipped through the stone circle so hard that Kestrel and others had trouble staying on their feet. The ghost, however, appeared to exist in a state of perfect calm. Not a strand of her hair was disturbed.
Durwyn stared up at the green bubble surrounding them. "Is that the Mythal?"
"Nay, merely a force that protects us from predators whilst we conduct the incantation ceremony," Anorrweyn said. "Let us begin."
They parted to let her advance. When she reached the center of the circle, she offered a brief prayer to Mystra, then raised her hands toward the emerald and closed her eyes. "Qu'kiir vian ivae, qu'kiir nethmet." Her voice was barely audible.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Ivae marat vand Cormantkor," Anorrweyn chanted softly. "Mythal selen mhaor kenet. Qu'kiir vand tir t'nor."
Anorrweyn's hair and gown fluttered gently, as if stirred by a soft breeze. "Qu'kiir vian ivae, qu'kiir nethmet," she repeated, this time more loudly.
Kestrel shook off the words' hypnotic effect to edge closer to Ghleanna. "You speak Elvish, don't you?" she said just loudly enough to be heard above the roar of the wind. "What does she say?"
Ghleanna leaned close, but never took her eyes off the priestess. "The words are ancient, so my understanding is limited," she responded. "But roughly: Binding gem, awaken your light. Dance the weave of the Mythal. Bind it to me that I might drive corruption from our home."
Anorrweyn reached the end of the verse once more. "Qu'kiir vand tir t'nor." Another thunderclap boomed, much closer than the first. Without pause, she began again.
"Qu'kiir vian ivae, qu'kiir nethmet." The priestess tossed back her head, entirely given over to the incantation. She chanted the mystical words in a clear, strong voice that rose above the wind's howl. Her hair streamed behind her now, as if the natural forces of this plane finally touched her.
An enormous crack of thunder rent the air. Kestrel nearly jumped out of her skin as the echo reverberated through the night, but Anorrweyn never ceased in her chant. She shouted the words heavenward. "Qu'kiir vand tir t'nor!"
Slowly, Anorrweyn rose into the air as if drawn up by some unseen hand. When her fingertips touched the emerald, deep green light burst forth. The radiance spouted beyond the protective field and into the night sky, where it diffused into a wavery mantle of prismatic light that extended as far as the eye could see.
Kestrel gasped. Surely they gazed upon the Mythal itself.
The great Weave coursed with power beyond mortal comprehension, yet it was also a thing of overwhelming beauty. Strands of every hue interlaced in complex knot-work patterns that overlapped so tightly as to form an unbroken blanket of light and energy. The mantle enveloped the city as lovingly as a mother's arms encircle her child.
Yet as they watched, an oily blackness-darker even than the night sky-stole into the fabric of the Weave, oozing between its strands. The taint spread, appearing to open up gaping holes in the sacred shield. Beyond lay not the stars of the heavens, but nothingness.
Suddenly, bolts of black lightning arced through the mantle. They converged into a single charge that raced straight down into the emerald. Kestrel instinctively backed up, expecting the gem to explode into a thousand pieces. It pulsed and shook under the assault.
But it held.
Instead, Anorrweyn absorbed the electrical feedback. The force violently wrenched the spirit out of contact with the emerald. She flew backward, between two of the spires and beyond the circle. The wind abruptly ceased as the gem dropped onto the stone floor. Above, the vision of the Mythal evaporated.
"Priestess!" Faeril rushed after the ghost. "Priestess! Where are you?"
Anorrweyn was gone.
They left the circle and searched furiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost behind one of the spires, but no sign of her remained. Corran regarded the others soberly. "I fear that blast destroyed her."
Faeril choked down a sob and turned her face away.
"What do we do now?" Durwyn asked.
What, indeed? Kestrel fought back despair. It sickened her to think that Anorrweyn Evensong's spirit had been obliterated. The gentle priestess had touched a part of Kestrel's soul she hadn't known existed-had awakened in her the fledgling desire to do the right thing with no thought of personal reward.
Now she was gone. Apparently, that's where altruism got you in this world.
Damn this whole mission anyway. Misfortune dogged their every step, throwing new obstacles in their path before they could overcome the known ones. Now their path lay shrouded in more darkness than ever without the light of Anorrweyn's goodness to aid them. What had the noble spirit's sacrifice won? Kestrel reentered the circle and picked up the forgotten emerald. It twinkled in the starlight but appeared perfectly ordinary. She held it toward the sorcerers. "Did the ceremony take hold at all, or is this just a stupid piece of glass?"
Jarial and Ghleanna exchanged glances. The half-elf shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea."
The party erupted in debate over how to proceed from here. Corran wanted to infiltrate Castle Cormanthor in search of the pool cavern. Jarial suggested returning to Caalenfaire to see whether the diviner could learn more through scrying. Ghleanna thought a good night's sleep at Beriand's shelter would help them clear their heads and gain some perspective. Faeril was too beside herself over Anorrweyn's demise to voice an opinion.
Kestrel just wanted to get off the top of this building. There was no sign of the protective force field that had surrounded them during the ceremony, and she preferred to argue in a less exposed location. As she stood in the center of the circle, a faint fragrance caught her nostrils. A new calm washed over her. She inhaled deeply. Gardenias.
A moment later, Anorrweyn materialized before them. Her "body" appeared to have survived the ordeal unharmed, but her eyes bore a haunted look they hadn't held previously.
"Priestess!" Faeril cried. "Are you all right? What happened?"
Anorrweyn met each of their gazes. Her visage held the expression of one who has dire news to impart. "I could not commune with the Mythal. The Weave rejected my attempt."
Corran, whose face had become hopeful upon the ghost's reappearance, now addressed her with grim resignation. "The Mythal's corrup
tion is too great to save it?"
The spirit shook her head sadly. "Worse. Another Gem of the Weave is already in use."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Another gem?" Faeril exclaimed. "How is that possible?"
"Harldain gave us the only suitable replacement stone," Corran added. "At least, that's what he told us."
Anorrweyn's face clouded with disgust. "I doubt not the dwarven lord's word. It is the Protector who, I fear, plays a dangerous game with the truth."
Though the others looked at the priestess in confusion, a spark of understanding ignited in Kestrel. Anorrweyn did not speak of another replacement stone. "The baelnorn told us he destroyed the original gem-"
"We will see about that." With a sweep of the ghost's arm, a gate opened in the night air.
Beyond lay the torchlit lair of the Protector. "Come. Let us talk with Miroden Silverblade!"
The baelnorn appeared only mildly surprised by the party's abrupt arrival in his chamber. He set aside the book he'd been reading and rose to greet them. "Good eve, my friends." He looked each of them in the eye but could not meet Anorrweyn's gaze. "Priestess Evensong."
"I have known you many, many centuries, Miroden Silverblade," the priestess began. Though her tone was harsh, it softened. "In life and in death, our paths intertwined as we struggled to save the City of Song from evils mundane and arcane. Through the Opening, the Weeping War, the occupation by creatures of the Abyss-always have we been on the same side."
The Protector bowed his head as Anorrweyn continued. "Now that Myth Drannor faces its greatest threat yet, I fear our paths diverge. You have told these brave adventurers, who fight to save a city not their own, that you destroyed the Sapphire of the Weave. Miroden, I was present at the creation of the gem. I witnessed the Moment of Binding. I know that as you stand before me, the sapphire yet exists in this world."
The priestess touched her hand to the baelnorn's withered cheek. A tear wet her fingers. "You love this city more deeply than most of the People love their lifemates. What happened, Miroden, to make you betray your sacred duty as communicant? Where is the sapphire? Open your heart to me, old friend."
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