“What’s their significance?” he asked.
“Can’t you tell?” she said.
He concentrated. Knowing what to look for, he saw there were hundreds, maybe more. He focused on the nearest.
The object wasn’t entirely a natural mesa, he saw. More like an … obelisk. A four-sided pillar, actually. What he’d taken for striations were actually glyphs scribed down the sides, depicting a frieze whose subject was hidden by the mist.
It looked like Xxiphu.
All the pillars looked like Xxiphu, minus a primeval aboleth crouched on top.
“I don’t understand …,” he said.
“Xxiphu is only a single seed, darling,” said Malyanna. “The first, and oldest. When I open the Far Manifold, all these will quicken, and disperse across the world and its echoes like fluffs of dandelion. Remember how beautiful a single aboleth city looked over the Sea of Fallen Stars? Imagine a thousand Xxiphus hovering over the Faerûn, darkening the land with their shadows!” The eladrin laughed.
His breath caught. It was a mad vision. “The gods won’t stand for such an invasion,” he said.
“They ignored one floating city of aboleths!” Malyanna said. “But yes, you’re right, they won’t ignore an armada. But by then it’ll be too late. The Sovereignty is only a herald for the changes that await Toril.”
Taal imagined the age of horror for a land subjugated by aboleths and shuddered. “What could be worse?” he said.
Malyanna chuckled. “The Sovereignty waits for the Far Manifold to open, to quicken all the remaining seeds,” she said. “But the Sovereignty’s ascendance will be only a harbinger. When the Far Manifold gapes wide, the cosmos will be finally and fully undefended from the infinity that lies beyond it. Everything will be different then. All reality will become one with the Far Realm. And I will gain my reward.”
“You’re mad,” he said.
Pain seared his temples, and his knees buckled.
“Have a care,” Malyanna said.
Taal gasped. “What I mean is, you’re mad to believe that what lies beyond the Far Manifold will care about your efforts to open the way, or even notice you!” he said. “You’ll be … absorbed, like everything else!”
She tapped her long scarlet fingernails on the Dreamheart. “I think not,” she said. The great eye within the stone blinked.
The band of pain around Taal’s head lessened. He drew in several deep breaths. He was surprised he could still think. Though he’d explained his initial outburst as concern for the eladrin noble, he’d never before gainsaid Malyanna so bluntly.
What was wrong with him? It was as if his subconscious was finally done with servitude, and had decided to leap from the precipice of his gods-damned oath.
Malyanna drifted closer to the edge of the balcony and held up the sphere, waking new glimmers of light from its depths.
Taal’s agony faded further, but the point had apparently been made: watch it, or die. Taal got to his feet, blinking away the last slivers of pain. He joined his mistress at the balcony’s edge.
He saw Xxiphu was settling down into the mist. From a distance the fog had seemed opaque, but beneath its feathery surface, the vapor proved translucent.
A solid plain of mottled ground lay beneath the drifting white. As the city continued down, a great crater resolved. Jagged cracks burst from its periphery like streamers from a sculpture of the sun.
Xxiphu continued lower, until its foundation settled into the gaping hole. A muffled thud vibrated up through Taal’s boots.
The cries, screams, and peals of dread melody he’d heard earlier rippled across the plain. But the sound of his own breathing was louder, as was the occasional low-pitched growl of his totem.
Taal made out other obelisks, like shadows as tall as mountains, in the far distance. Odd protuberances, pools of varicolored liquids, and slick phosphorescent trails decorated the ground. Few of the creatures he’d seen above the mist apparently ventured below it. The alien threat of the scene wormed its way into Taal’s heart and cooled it to the temperature of ice.
“Come,” said Malyanna. She glanced at Taal and the shadow hound, then at the petrified form of Carnis. “Beyond these hollowed columns lies a door. And I have the Key to open it.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Year of the Secret (1396 DR)
Feywild
Warmth like a welcoming hearth fire drew Raidon onward. His Cerulean Sign knew the name Forever’s Edge. With every heartbeat, a pulse of familiarity tingled from his chest to suffuse the rest of his body. With every step, the connection grew stronger. His spellscar was again his guide.
A breeze tousled his hair, and fey light streamed down from the flawless sky. Anticipation made his stomach taut.
“A shadow clings to that ridge,” Japheth said.
Raidon followed the warlock’s gesture, through a succulent green valley illuminated with sunlight. A steep rise, bare of vegetation, formed the far side of the valley’s bowl.
His spellscar pulsed in that direction.
“That’s the way we need to go,” Raidon said.
“I concur,” said Japheth. “Malyanna passed this way … but some time ago. It almost seems she came from the direction we go, but did not return this way. Yet, my connection to the power we share places her beyond that rise.”
They hurried through the valley, jumping across a clear brook that wandered the valley’s trough, then ascended the rise. On the lower slope, grass and a few trees struggled to gain a foothold. The vegetation failed completely as they ascended.
On the other side of the bare knob of stone, the land fell away into dimness. A cold air blew from that direction, and it smelled of endings.
“Of course. I should’ve guessed our path would be the one clogged with darkness and dread,” said Japheth.
“What, you expected a castle made of confection and honey?” replied Raidon.
The warlock laughed. “If you know of a place like that, I wouldn’t mind a rest! I’ve got a sweet tooth,” he said.
“Only in the stories I once told my daughter,” said Raidon.
“I imagine, somewhere in the world or one of its echoes, such a place exists,” Japheth said. “If we get through this, I’m going to try and find it.”
“A quest without consequences for failure? I think I’ll join you,” said the monk.
Both men plunged down the other side, into the gloom that lay beyond. They walked into a tableau of bare rock, jagged boulders, and half-dead scrub grass. The farther they went, the darker it became.
Raidon glanced back once and saw the glow of Faerie still gleamed behind them on the horizon. Something caught in his throat.
A presentiment stole over him—a whispering certainty that he’d never walk in that golden light again.
“What is it?” said Japheth.
The monk glanced at his companion. The warlock’s cloak made him hard to pick out against the black sky.
“Nothing,” Raidon said. “Just resting. I think we’re close.”
“Taal explained that Malyanna was some sort of guardian at the edge of the world,” said Japheth.
“A guardian?” said Raidon.
“She was co-opted,” replied the warlock. “Do you suppose the other guardians were also compromised, or she’s working alone?”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Raidon said.
They pressed onward. Raidon wondered at the lack of animal life, so close to Faerie. Not even a single snake, fox, or a crow had crossed over. Or if any had, they hid themselves from him and Japheth.
Hours later, a row of lights appeared on the horizon. Raidon pointed them out to Japheth.
The warlock grunted in acknowledgment.
The tiny lights resolved as they approached, and revealed themselves as beacon fires. The fires glittered from the tops of tall towers constructed at the edge of a rocky rise. The towers were delicate yet sturdy, and each one was surrounded by an outer wall and ward.
A towe
r near one edge of the line had toppled forward across the rocky plain, smashing through its own retaining wall. Its cylindrical stone shell was broken into rubble.
A vast darkness swirled beyond the towers. It was a void shot through with faint stars and the occasional flare of red light that brought a slight chill to Raidon’s spellscar.
“This is it. Forever’s Edge,” said the monk. He pulled his silk shirt tighter around him against the cold.
“Is your symbol telling you anything else?” Japheth asked.
“No.”
They approached the central, largest spire.
Despite the high wall and thick gate, they heard voices yelling out orders and questions, the sound of hooves on stone, blares of horns, and occasional cursing in a variety of languages. Noises like stone banging on stone, metal on metal, and less identifiable sounds skipped across the rock.
“Sounds like cavalry preparing for a sortie,” Raidon said.
“All for us?” said Japheth.
Raidon glanced to the farther towers. Moving lights on the tops of the walls, surging beacon fires, and the occasional flicker as something passed in front of a light told a tale of similar activity.
“Seems unlikely—unless your pact is far more dangerous than you let on,” Raidon said.
“Hmmph,” replied Japheth.
“But they have noticed us,” said the half-elf, gesturing.
Several eladrin on horseback issued from a side gate and approached them along the wall. Some wielded swords, others bows, one a lance. All were caparisoned in silvery mithral greaves and hauberks. Their panoply reminded Raidon of the knights he’d seen in Stardeep. What had they been called …?
Empyrean Knights. Those in Stardeep had ultimately been betrayed by their leader. Was the same true for these?
The lead knight didn’t quite point her lance at Raidon. “Name yourselves and your purpose!” she said.
“We seek Malyanna,” replied the monk.
The knight blinked. “What’s your business with the Lady of Winter’s Peace?” she said. “I don’t recognize either of you.”
Raidon considered the knight, wondering if she was in Malyanna’s power already.
Before he could decide, the knight gave a single nod at the toppled tower. “I’m sorry to give you the bad news,” she said. “Spire of Winter’s Peace fell in the attack. Lady Malyanna is missing.”
“Attack?” Raidon asked.
Before the leader could respond, one of the other knights called up. “These two strangers arrive suspiciously close to the assault,” he said. “What if they’re here to take advantage of the distraction?”
“Nonsense,” said Raidon in a loud voice. “We are foes of abominations and aberrations! We arrive now only because dark forces are on the move, goaded by their new priestess. I hope you are, and remain, foes of that which lies outside the natural order too.”
“You hope we …?” called the knight. “Don’t be foolish, it is our ancient charter!”
“I’m glad,” Raidon said. “But a traitor is among you.”
“He seeks to turn us against each other!” said a knight.
“No. I seek to open your eyes. The traitor is Malyanna.”
Several of the knights exclaimed with angry curses. Japheth swirled his cloak defensively.
“It was she who was probably responsible for your ‘attack’!” yelled Raidon.
“Stop your prattle, human,” said the woman. “You don’t know of what you speak, here on the Edge.”
A thread of anger heated Raidon’s reply. “Do I not?” he said. “Then why do I suspect that if you can’t find Malyanna, it is because she is already on her way to a place called the Far Manifold.”
“A mortal creature can’t open the Far Manifold,” the woman said, her eyes narrowing as she spoke.
The knights began to form up behind the woman in the lead, drawing their lances down their line. Japheth glanced at Raidon. The monk could tell his companion was on the edge of violence, or perhaps a quick retreat.
Raidon tried again. “Listen to me,” he said. “Malyanna has retrieved the Key of Stars from Faerûn! With it, a mortal can indeed open that bleak gate, and she intends to try! Then the lords that the Eldest aboleth in Xxiphu serves will be free to enter existence, and erase it.”
“You’re either insane, or more likely, agents of the aboleths yourselves,” the lead knight said. She took her signal horn from her belt and prepared to sound it.
“Would a foe from the Sovereignty bear this?” Raidon said, pulling open his silk shirt and baring the Cerulean Sign. A purifying light bloomed in its simple lines and washed across the ground until it enveloped the knights, the gate, and a portion of the outer wall.
A hush fell across the men and women on horseback, and beyond. The noises on the other side of the wall fell away too. From the tower above them, at the highest point just visible above the wall, came an answering glow.
The lead knight looked up at that radiance, then back to the monk. Raidon saw the tension go out of her shoulders. Her eyes were suddenly wide with confusion. She raised her lance in a salute. “It seems you are expected by the Lady of the Moon,” she said, her voice now hushed.
“Who is the Lady of the Moon?” said Japheth, stepping forward.
“Each watchtower is under the command of a lady or a lord,” the lead knight said. “The Spire of the Moon answers to Lady Erunyauvë.”
The ground seemed to drop away beneath Raidon’s feet. The air in his lungs didn’t seem to be enough to sustain him. Could it really be, after all that time?
Japheth glanced at the monk. “You know that name?” he asked.
Raidon swallowed. He tried to speak, coughed, then said, “Yes. Erunyauvë is my mother’s name.”
Raidon walked in a daze. Images of his mother, as he remembered her, overlay reality. Part of him was sure it was all some kind of misunderstanding. How many eladrin took the name Erunyauvë anyway?
He and Japheth were led past iron valves into a square-cut tunnel flagged with granite. The corridor pierced the outer wall, and was lit with flickering lamps. The knights preceded them into a wide courtyard surging with knights, mounts, ballistae, and steeds of various sorts, including several dozen griffons.
The central tower was the courtyard’s focus.
The Spire of the Moon, from a closer vantage, lost some of the slender elegance that distance lent it. The tower had been built up from lesser structures, one upon the next, over centuries. Roofs had become balconies for elevated watch posts, and foundations for higher walls, and basements the origin for yet deeper halls and armories cut into the earth. The congested construction thrust aloft the Spire, making it a citadel both high and wide. Slender walkways and curling stairways provided external access to various levels and galleries. At inconstant intervals, great lamps burned, spilling a silvery radiance down the spire’s side.
The knights directed the visitors to the tower’s entrance, which was flanked by sculptures of guardian unicorns.
Four eladrin in silver livery stood in the Spire’s entry hall.
“Greetings,” said one.
“We’re here to see Erunyauvë,” said Raidon.
“Yes. But first, we are to show you to your rooms, so that you may take some rest from your journey.”
“What? No,” said Raidon. “I want to see Erunyauvë.”
“All in good time.”
The monk narrowed his eyes.
Japheth put his hand on Raidon’s shoulder, and the monk realized that of all places, this was the place to show control. He sought his personal focus. Over slow heartbeats, his irritation fell away.
“Then I thank you, for we are travel weary,” said Raidon. “Please show us our accommodations. But also tell the Lady of the Moon that Raidon is anxious to see her, and that time is short.”
“She knows,” one of the eladrin said. “Now, follow me.”
Raidon’s room was high up on the tower’s side. It overlooked th
e keep, the darkling plain, and far beyond, the glimmering light of the Feywild.
Hot water was drawn for a bath. The monk called again on his focus for the timeless patience it could provide. Not all Xiang’s lessons had been martial.
As the steaming fluid sluiced down his head, cleansing the dirt of days from his hair and body, the tension washed away. His speculations on what was to soon occur smoothed away. His reunion with his vanished mother, whom he’d spent over a decade searching for and was likely the reason he became the man he was, was imminent.
That sufficed.
Raidon rose from his bath and dressed. He poured tea from a cunningly inscribed service left in the room. The flavor was nearly as good as his favorite variety, and that was saying something—West Lake Dragon Well was a gem of Faerûn. The eladrin in the tower on the edge of everything obviously maintained a degree of contact with the world.
Someplace in the tower, a bell chimed.
A knock at Raidon’s door preceded the appearance of another silver-clad servant.
“It’s time,” she said.
Raidon nodded and followed.
“We go to the Court of the Moon,” said the eladrin.
They collected Japheth.
“Ready?” said the warlock.
Raidon said, “One hopes.”
They ascended more stairs, past closed doors, windows, and enigmatic statuary lit by candle sconces. Finally they came to a chamber high in the tower.
The room occupied the entire level. What seemed like Selune’s Tears glimmered upon the high ceiling, providing light more than bright enough to see by. A massive crystal throne occupied the chamber’s center, carved with subtle designs of moons, stars, leaves, and frolicking animals of the natural world. The designs seemed to swirl and move slowly across the crystal as if shadows of actual living creatures.
A woman sat on the throne with solemn grace, robed in emerald. A mantle of silver swathed her shoulders, and her hair was knotted with more braids and charms than Raidon could count. Her eyes were silver, and when they turned to regard him, he recognized them as his mother’s.
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