"And leave the smell of Elminster's stinkweed in the air," Galaeron finished.
"As I understand, it was not necessary to leave anything," Telamont said, almost chuckling. "The thorn-backs could not imagine anyone else capable, and went to take their vengeance on Elminster."
"And when he returned to see what was happening, the princes ambushed him and sent him to the Nine Hells?" Galaeron demanded. "How could you-" "It was an accident," Hadrhune said firmly.
"In any case, its not relevant to the question at hand," Telamont said. "What is relevant is that the Myth Drannor phaerimm may have learned who was actually responsible-"
"And made a pact with their fellows to be rid of you," Galaeron finished.
He was growing angrier by the moment, and not just because of what they had done to Elminster. He saw how Telamont had manipulated him as well, deliberately drawing his shadow out by showing him the shadow blankets and telling him he must choose between saving Evereska or the whole west. Though Telamont remained silent, the force of his unspoken question pressed down like a boulder. So infuriated was Galaeron that he wanted not to answer, to deny what he saw so clearly, or lie about it, or do something to make the Shadovar pay-but he could not hold the knowledge inside. The pressure of the Most High's will was insufferable, as though he had somehow brought the entire weight of Shade Enclave to bear on that one pressure point. At last, Galaeron had to ask, "You have a mythal?"
The air grew even more still and cold than usual next to Telamont. "Of a sort There is a mythallar here, as were found on all the enclaves of Netheril." "That's what they'll attack."
"Impossible," Hadrhune said. "They'd never make it through the shadow moats."
Galaeron shrugged. "Then you have nothing to worry about" Hadrhune looked to Telamont.
The Most High turned to Galaeron and said, "You know our defenses. Can the phaerimm breach them?"
"They already have, or your sentries would be sounding the alarms by now." Then, in answer to what the Most High wanted to know next, Galaeron said, "It's likely a small company of infiltrators. If it was only one or two, they would have relied on stealth instead of trying to lure your strength away."
"An entire company?" Hadrhune shook his gaunt head. "Impossible." "It would not hurt to be certain," Telamont said.
Hadrhune's amber eyes vanished beneath their lids, but Telamont was not waiting. He started for the throne room, motioning Galaeron to follow-and many others as well, judging by the cold swirl of darkness that accompanied them.
Hadrhune appeared at Telamont's side, his eyes opened again. "A veserab patrol did return unexpectedly, Most High. The officer cannot be found, and the mounts have burns where they were harnessed with Weave magic." "Not impossible," Telamont said. "Recall the princes."
They were in the throne room, striding through the whispering shadows toward the reception hall, surrounded by a throng of increasingly substantial figures. Several of the silhouettes drifted apart long enough for Vala to emerge and step to Galaeron's side. "What happened?"
"Phaerimm infiltrators," Galaeron explained. "They're after the mythallar."
Vala raised her brow, but said, "That's not what I was asking about" "No?"
"You, Galaeron," Telamont said, speaking from a dozen paces ahead. "She wants to know what happened to you."
Galaeron frowned. "My shadow?" He glanced over at her. "You can tell just by looking?"
Vala nodded. "Galaeron, I don't even have to look anymore," she said, "and I don't much like that." "Ready weapons!" Hadrhune called.
Vala reached for her darksword and asked, "They're coming here?"
They were somewhere else, dropping out of the shadows into a huge obsidian basin, sliding down the glassy slopes with purple sheets of light burning all around them, voices screaming, bolts cracking, air reeking of charred flesh. It took Galaeron a moment to recall where he was and why, a moment longer to realize the pain in his arm was Vala's free hand digging into his biceps, then he finally began to make sense of what he was seeing.
At the bottom of the basin sat a huge ball of obsidian, easily a hundred and fifty feet in diameter, with pale, ghostly shapes gliding about inside and a halo of deepening darkness radiating from its surface. A flight of phaerimm were descending out of the gloom above, flinging spells of fire and light as they came, trying to fight their way through the swarm of teleport-dazed Shadovar tumbling and sliding down the slopes of the glassy basin along with Galaeron and Vala.
An orb of darkness streaked up out of the basin and drilled a fist-sized hole through a creature close over their heads. It dropped onto the slope above and started to slide down toward them, roaring its pain in a swirling tempest of winds and lashing out with a wild flurry of lightning and burning light. Galaeron took a white fork of energy in the shoulder and went rigid, biting down on his tongue so hard that his teeth met through the flesh.
Vala hurled her sword, slicing off one of the phaerimm’s arms and a good portion of its sinewy shoulder. The creature rolled away, then whistled something in the phaerimm wind language and vanished.
Galaeron felt Vala catch him by the collar, then their descent began to slow as they reached the bottom of the basin and the slope lost its steepness. She called her darksword back to her hand, and only after it had returned did she turn her attention to the smoking hole in his shoulder. "How bad?"
Galaeron managed to unclench his jaw and, with a mouthful of blood, said, "Stiff, but all right."
He tried to rise, making it as far as his knees before discovering his muscles would not obey. Vala moved his leg into a stable kneeling position, then they both scanned the area. The battle appeared to have ended as quickly as it had started. Shadovar warriors and pieces of Shadovar warriors were sliding down the slope toward them, accumulating in groaning, knee-deep piles. Half a dozen phaerimm-or rather sections of half a dozen phaerimm-lay interspersed among the smoking bodies.
Telamont Tanthul stood a quarter of the way around the basin, Hadrhune at his side as always, calling for his princes and ordering the survivors to arrange search parties. There were no thornbacks in sight; once a battle started to turn against them, it was phaerimm instinct to teleport away. Galaeron knew the enclave defenses would prevent them from leaving the city via translocational magic-but he also knew the phaerimm would have anticipated that and picked a safe rallying point. Galaeron grabbed Vala's arm and pulled himself up. "Take it easy," she said. "You're not looking so good."
Though he was still angry with Telamont for drawing out his shadow and at that moment truly wanted to see the Shadovar mythallar destroyed-considering the number of deaths that would mean, he hoped that particular desire was his shadow's instead of his own- Galaeron also knew that Evereska's fate depended on Shade Enclave's continued survival.
"It's not done," Galaeron said. "They're still in the city."
Vala wrapped him in a supporting arm and started toward the Most High. "Telamont isn't going to like this. Didn't he order you to stay out of fights until you're able to pass on Melegaunt's knowledge?"
Galaeron nodded at the huge sphere of obsidian they were circling past. "He seems to have made an exception for the mythallar."
Vala glanced at the orb and raised her brow. "That's the mythallar? I was sort of expecting it to be the Karse-stone." "Me, too," Galaeron said.
After unleashing the phaerimm, they had journeyed into the Dire Wood, fighting liches and other undead guardians in order to help Melegaunt recover the famed Karsestone and use its "heavy" magic-from a time before the Weave and Shadow Weave split-to return Shade Enclave to Faerыn.