He retreated from Forever’s Edge and cast his eyes back down to the darkling plain.
Two riders rode from the direction of the nearest neighbor tower, the Spire of Summer Mist.
Taal called on the spirit resident in his totem, asking for sharpness of eyesight. His vision instantly pierced the relentless twilight. He saw the riders were not mere couriers, as he’d hoped, but eladrin nobles.
Worry drew down the corners of his mouth. Why, despite all his assurances sent via beacon fire signals, were the Master and Mistress of Summer Mist personally venturing across the plain separating the towers for a visit?
Taal hurried down the stairs that looped all the way down to the watchtower’s foundation. He passed many sealed doors. Behind these lay fell weapons, occult lore, collected omens, arcane ritual rooms, and other artifacts potentially useful in reality’s defense. Dust lay heavy on nearly every lintel.
He left the stairs at ground level. The spiraling steps continued their lonely descent into the bedrock, where many more lightless chambers lurked.
A larger keep surrounded the watchtower that stabbed the sky above it. Taal entered the keep’s great hall. He worked the wheel mechanism that unbarred the gate into the ward.
The visitors had already been admitted through the outer wall into the ward by tower guards. The ward and outer wall, unlike the watchtower and inner keep, bustled with eladrin warriors and servants pledged to the spire’s upkeep and defense.
Taal waited in the entranceway with folded arms as the two visitors approached.
The woman wore elaborately styled black leather armor. A rapier rode her hip, and an impious smile curled across her face when she saw Taal.
The man’s platinum blond hair was bound in a knot, and matched the colors of his impeccably cut clothes. A glimmering bow was strapped, unstrung, to his back.
“Welcome to the Spire of Winter’s Peace,” said Taal as they entered the great hall. “To what do we owe this unexpected visit?”
“Taal, always a pleasure to see you,” the man replied. “You don’t come around anymore, as you used to when you first took service. Have we become so tiresome?”
“My duties keep me busy, Lord Dramvar,” said Taal.
“No one works harder than you,” Dramvar assured him. “Nor are hardly any of our warriors a match for your unique, um, martial skills. Our warriors still speak fondly of the weaponless techniques you used to demonstrate. Who knew a human could achieve such proficiency? Oh. I mean …”
Dramvar’s pale skin colored slightly.
Taal bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment, and the backhanded insult. “In my youth, even among humans, I achieved some notoriety,” he replied. “In any event, as I’ve explained, I’m consumed in my tasks. If you’ve come to invite me to the next revelry, I-”
“Of course not,” said the woman. “Lord Dramvar is merely trying, in his inexpert fashion, to put you at your ease. But we have no time for pleasantries. We need to confer with your mistress immediately. Please inform Winter’s Peace that Summer Mist has important news that can’t wait.”
Taal nodded, his face drawn in thought. “Lady Eloar,” he finally said, “as I communicated via beaconfire on more than one occasion, the Lady of Winter’s Peace is temporarily unavailable.”
“Still?” said Lady Eloar. “Where did she go? The nearest kingdom of Faerie isn’t so far.”
“The lady’s research regarding the growing instabilities in the void required she travel into the world,” replied Taal.
“Without the approval of all the Towers?” Lord Dramvar exclaimed.
“She believed the threat was too great to wait on permission,” said Taal.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “She knows when a warden abandons the Watch too long, the power in the void senses it!” she said. “For what stupidity would she risk drawing attention from the Citadel?”
Taal chewed his lip. “If I could tell you the nature of the threat she perceived, I would,” he said. “But she did not provide me with any details. She left suddenly, with instructions that I stay on my guard and oversee the watchtower, its armory, and the company of warriors installed here as I always have.”
The man sighed. “Lady Eloar, it seems we have come all this way for nothing,” he said.
“Not for nothing, Dramvar,” Lady Eloar replied.
The woman fixed Taal with her sly smile and said, “I’m sorry it has to come to this, Taal, but the circumstances leave me no choice. I must invoke the Articles of the Compact. Please show us to your mistress’s study.”
Taal nodded again. The Articles of the Compact allowed any lord of the Watch on Forever’s Edge to examine another’s hold, lest corruption secretly take root. Those who stared overlong into the void were most vulnerable to its fell fingers of corruption.
“Of course. Please, this way?” said the castellan of Winter’s Peace.
Taal motioned to the stairs.
“Please do not take offense, Taal,” said Lord Dramvar. “After this, I hope you’ll still consider visiting us for the next revel. But even you must admit that Lady Malyanna’s eccentricities require some sort of censure.”
“Of course,” replied Taal. “All of us must answer to our oaths. After you?” Taal motioned for a second time.
The lord and lady preceded Taal across the great hall. The arch that opened onto the stairs was carved with stars and comets, swords and shields. As Lord Dramvar walked beneath the carvings, one finger absently touched one of the shields. It was a tradition, meant to invoke luck.
Lady Eloar passed through the arch without a glance.
Taal followed, and touched the same shield as Dramvar had. If superstition had even the least efficacy, it seemed prudent to cancel out any of Dramvar’s advantage.
As Taal’s finger slid off the smoothed edge of the carving, his other arm shot forward. His palm slid along the side of Eloar’s neck as he captured her head in the crook of his arm. His forearm sawed across her trachea a moment before his elbow settled below her chin. He squeezed.
She tried to scream a warning to Dramvar. The other eladrin continued blithely up the stairs, his back to the struggle. She clawed at Taal’s arms, raking her nails down his skin. His ambush had caught her so off guard she was panicking. Another heartbeat, and-
His arms collapsed on nothing. Lady Eloar appeared several steps above Dramvar on the curving staircase, gasping and rubbing at her throat with one hand. With the other, she pointed past Dramvar. “Betrayal!” she rasped. She drew her rapier.
Lord Dramvar spun in place, the easy lines of his face hardening. He pulled his silver bow from his back. The moment his hands touched the wood, a chatoyant line flared into light between the endpoints. His hands retrieved an arrow from his quiver with the swiftness of an eagle snatching a fish from a lake. The bow was drawn back, an arrow nocked.
But for all the eladrin’s amazing speed, Taal was faster. He was already inside the man’s guard. As Dramvar tried to shift a pace up the stairs and release his arrow, Taal slapped the beautiful weapon from the archer’s hands. Disbelief pinched the eladrin’s expression.
Taal stepped in closer, sweeping his other arm around. He caught Dramvar’s head on his bicep and continued twisting. As the man overbalanced, Taal braced himself on one leg and raised the other, pulling Dramvar over it. Taal threw the man up the stairs, and the eladrin flipped end over end, right onto Lady Eloar’s naked rapier.
The man’s flailing bulk bowled into Lady Eloar. They both went down hard on the stairs. Dramvar splattered blood on the marble and on his ally.
Taal took three quick steps to where they lay. He reached down to snap Dramvar’s neck. Calling on reserves of fortitude, the eladrin archer pulled another arrow from his quiver. He lunged as Taal’s fingers brushed his neck, and stabbed the sharp head into the meat of Taal’s calf.