A voice whispers from within the hole, echoing up its sides. The veins throb when the voice speaks. It is my father's voice.
"Cale cannot kill Kesson Rel. He has already failed once."
I shake my head, trying to dislodge despair. "He will try again and succeed. I have seen him do things that no ordinary man could do. He will keep his promise."
My father chuckles. "His promises are shit. He promised his god to return his divinity. He promised the same thing to me. He will say anything, yet he means nothing. Now he allies with Rivalen Tanthul, who tortured you. You cannot trust him. You must save yourself."
I hear my own thoughts in the words and protest. "You lie."
"No. You lie. To yourself. Soon the Shadowwalkers will leave the Wayrock. They intend to leave you here. No one will ever return for you. They wish you to die, alone on this island as you are in your head. It is Cale's doing."
The words strike at my fears. I lean forward, start to speak, lose my footing, and nearly fall into the hole. I jerk myself back, heart racing, breathing rapidly.
The veins that line the hole are pulsing.
"Be mindful," says my father. "You are starting to slip."
He laughs. I curse. Staring into the abyss, I realize that Cale cannot save me. He does not want to save me. I must save myself.
"You want revenge on those who damaged you-"
"You damaged me!"
"The Source offers everything you want."
The ache for the Source's comfort wells up in me, accompanied by the beginnings of a plot. I hear a sound at the bottom of the hole, as if something ancient has stirred to life after sleeping for ages. I lean over the edge. Something is moving down here, deep in the darkness.
I lean too far, scream as I fall. My father's laughter rings off the walls as I plummet.
CHAPTER TEN
5 Nightal, the Year of Lightning Storms
Drawn blades and an alarmed shout of "Shades," met the arrival of Cale and Riven. Cale held up his hands. Riven already had his sabers clear of their scabbards.
"We are friends," Cale said.
"Hold!" Abelar shouted, his eyes on Cale.
Abelar, Regg, Jiiris, Roen, and a dozen other members of Abelar's company stood in a circle on the shore of a river Cale assumed to be the Mudslide. The Lathanderians relaxed, and sheathed their weapons. Apologies and greetings followed. Abelar embraced both Cale and Riven.
"I am pleased to see you both. We could use your blades and talents."
Downriver, Cale saw the inkblot of Sakkors hovering in the air. Opposite that, he saw the charred, churning clouds of the Shadowstorm as they ate the sky. Between them sat Abelar's company and the Saerbian refugees, just as Rivalen had said.
"Our blades and talents did nothing against Kesson Rel. We failed, Abelar."
The Lathanderian kept his expression neutral. "But you live, still. We will find another way."
'We may have found one. We need a word in privacy. You and Regg."
Abelar looked to Regg and Regg nodded and said to his company, "See to your duties. Get everyone near the river. No closer to that city, though. Summon food. Keep everyone as warm as possible."
Nods and murmured assent, then they moved off.
"Jiiris," Abelar called, and the red haired warrior brought her horse over. She nodded to Cale and Riven, though Cale saw distant hostility in her eyes. Perhaps she blamed them for Abelar's turn from Lathander.
"You do not have to ask," she said to Abelar. "I will see that Elden eats."
He smiled at her. "Thank you."
When the four men were alone, Cale said, "Ordulin is in ruins, as we suspected. Its people have been consumed by the storm and raised as shadows serving Kesson Rel. The storm transforms Sembia as it moves."
"The Morninglord's light," Regg oathed.
"He is more powerful than we thought," Cale said.
"Much more," Riven added.
Abelar shook his head. "Darkness grows. You see our straits." He nodded at Sakkors. "The Shadovar will prevent us from crossing the river on orders of the Hulorn. I misjudged Tamlin Uskevren badly. He did not seem a man to countenance this. When I met the two of you, I thought it you I should worry over, not him."
Cale smiled at that, recalling their first meeting. "Tamlin is desperate to prove himself and easily steered. I misjudged him as well. It is… unfortunate."
He could think of no better word. He was just pleased Thamalon had died before seeing his son sink so far.
" 'Unfortunate' understates his culpability should something happen to these refugees," Regg said.
Cale took the point. "The Hulorn is not behind this. Prince Rivalen of Shade Enclave is. Tamlin-the Hulorn-is just a tool."
"What does he hope to gain, this Shadovar prince?" Regg asked. "These are ordinary folk."
"Our assistance," Cale answered, and the shadows around him spun.
Regg and Abelar's expression formed questions, waited for answers.
Cale and Riven told them of their encounter with Rivalen, of the deal he offered if Cale and Riven helped him with Kesson Rel.
"He makes hundreds of innocent people the stakes in his play," Regg said.
"He is a Sharran," Abelar said simply, and Regg grunted in agreement.
"I am sorry," Cale said, and the darkness around him crowded close. "We did not intend for your people to be caught up in any of this.
"You are not at fault," Regg said, but Cale felt otherwise.
Abelar nodded at Regg's comment. He looked to Cale. "I have seen you use the shadows to move yourself and others from place to place. Can you take the refugees through the darkness, remove them to safety? Avoid this Sharran plot all together?"
Cale considered. Once, he had attempted to transport an entire ship and its crew across the Inner Sea. Instead, he had inadvertently taken the ship from Faerun to the Plane of Shadow. He knew he could not safely move the refugees as a group.
"In twos and threes, perhaps, but I think the Shadovar would learn of it and exact payment from those who remained behind."
"At least some would get to safety," Regg said. "Elden could go first, with Endren."
Cale watched the war in Abelar's head do battle in his expression. He shook his head. "No. We cannot put everyone else at risk to save a few. If matters become desperate and there is no other way…"
Cale said, "If we assist Rivalen, all of you will be granted passage."
"If he keeps his word," Regg said, his tone doubtful.
"He is a Sharran," Abelar said again, as if that were all that needed said.
"He wants Kesson Rel dead," Riven said. "I saw it in his face. Cale?"
"Agreed."
Riven withdrew his pipe, shielded it from the rain, and used a tindertwig to light it.
"Why?" Regg asked. "To dispense with a rival? Is this prince strengthened if Kesson is defeated?"
Riven shrugged.
Cale said, "We have few options. Kesson is more than a match for us alone. We were fortunate to escape at all."
Riven exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"You have another?" Regg asked, nodding at the pipe.
The question seemed to take Riven by surprise. He eyed the Lathanderian over his pipe, grunted an affirmative, found his spare wooden pipe, tamped it, and provided it and a tindertwig to Regg.
"My thanks," Regg said. He propped the stem between his teeth, lit, took a long draw, and exhaled with a satisfied sigh.
"Been a while since I've enjoyed a smoke. That's good leaf."
Riven nodded. "Grown east of Urlamspyr."
"Good soil there," Regg said, nodding. "Or was, before the drought. Good folk, too."
"Aye, that," Abelar said.
Silence fell, as if the folk of Urlamspyr were already dead in the storm and the four men were paying their respects in silence. Smoke, shadows, and worry clouded the air.
"You believe this Sharran, then?" Abelar finally asked Cale.