Galaeron's heart sank. / see. I didn't mean to intrude. Please forgive-
There's that word again, Vala interrupted. I don't blame you-that's not what I mean. But since Khelben and the others helped me escape, I've been filled with this… I haven't felt anything good. I just want to go home and drink mead in front of the fire. Alone.
What about Sheldon? You must want to see him.
Galaeron felt ashamed of himself. He had allowed Vala's usual stoic bearing to lull him into thinking she had somehow emerged whole from her enslavement He had been thinking only of how her ordeal affected him, not of what it might have done to her.
Not like this, she replied. Not all broken inside.
You won't always be broken, Galaeron said. I'll stand by you for however long it takes. I wish I'd told you this before, Vala. I do love you.
Vala gave him a wistful smile.
Now you tell me. Now that your shadow made you.
Galaeron didn't realize they had become an object of attention until Vala's eyes grew self-conscious and her gaze darted away. Khelben cleared his throat, and either ignoring the looks that had been passing between the two or pretending he had not noticed, he stepped in front of Galaeron.
"You are quite certain the phaerimm will not be able to detect or dispel your magic?" he asked.
"They would have to use the Shadow Weave," Galaeron said, "but we must be wary of beholders. They could undo us with their antimagic rays."
"Beholders we can handle," Storm said.
Khelben sighed, then said, "Very well. If you are determined to pursue this foolish plan of yours, it seems we have no choice except to come along to protect you. How soon can you be ready?"
In answer, Galaeron slipped the last cone of shadowsilk off his finger and pressed it to Khelben's chest
"Hold that there."
Khelben did as instructed, and Galaeron drew on the Shadow Weave to cast a spell. The black cone expanded to a full ten feet in length, engulfing the Chosen in a stocking of darkness. Galaeron fashioned a barbed tail at the narrow end and four crooked arms at the wide end, added some teeth and other details to create the head-disk, and he found himself looking at what appeared to be a shadow-swathed phaerimm.
"An excellent likeness," Aris complimented. "Though the elbows are too far down the arms, and the tail barb should curve a little more."
Galaeron made the necessary corrections and a few more when Vala, Laeral, and Storm added their opinions. When everyone agreed the likeness was true, he stepped back and spoke a final word to set the shape.
"In Evereska, we should try to stay in the wooded areas where shadows won't seem out of place," Galaeron said. "I assume you can use your own magic to fly and speak the phaerimm wind language."
Khelben replied with a whistling gust of wind and floated into the air.
"Good," Galaeron said. "Avoid using your silver fire. If the phaerimm see it, they will know you are here."
"What about wands and rings?" Laeral asked.
"The shadow mask will conceal their use, as it will your voices and gestures," Galaeron said, "but you must careful not to fling any spell components outside your disguise. The phaerimm do not need components, so if they see you using them. "
"Understood," Storm said, stepping forward. "Me next I always like fighting with four arms."
Galaeron pressed a shadow cone to her chest and repeated the spell he had used to disguise Khelben, then did the same for himself and Laeral. Finally, he turned to Vala.
"Since you're not a spellcaster, it would be best to disguise you as a mind-slave."
Vala rolled her eyes and tried to make light of the suggestion, but the hurt was plain in her eyes.
"Don't enjoy it too much."
"Not at all," he assured her. "If you think you could hold a blank look-"
"Galaeron, just do it"
Galaeron flattened a small disk of shadowstuff in his hand and carefully molded it over her face. When he cast his spell, Vala's complexion darkened by half a dozen shades. Her eyes grew glassy and vacant, and her expression fell dead and still. It pained Galaeron to see her even in this counterfeit bondage. It reminded him of how selfish and deluded he had been during his shadow crisis and of all she had sacrificed to save him. How he would ever repay her, he could not begin to imagine.
"Are we all set then?" Khelben asked. "I've opened a door to the woods at the base of Cloudcrown Hill. Unless you've a better idea, I thought Lord Duirsar's palace the ideal place to open our campaign."
"There is no better idea," Galaeron said. He turned to find a magic door shimmering at the downhill edge of the terrace. "The phaerimm are sure to be fighting over the plunder there."
"I thought as much." Khelben waved a slender phaerimm arm toward the door. "Storm and Laeral have departed."
Not bothering to ask why Khelben had asked for an opinion if he had already sent the two sisters through, Galaeron started toward the shimmering door. He made it only one step before Vala caught him by his collar-she probably thought she was holding onto one of his disguise's four arms-and pulled him back.
"Wait"
She spun him around and stood there staring at him with her vacant eyes. Finally, she asked, "Where do I kiss?"
Galaeron leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It felt a little like kissing a zombie, at least until he closed his eyes, and even then it remained tentative and reserved-at least by Vaasan standards.
When they finally finished and Galaeron caught his breath again, he asked, "For luck?"
"Just in case," Vala corrected, drawing her darksword. "I wouldn't want a Shadovar's fist to be the last thing that ever touched my lips."
She stepped past Galaeron into the magic door and vanished with a crackle.
Galaeron followed Vala into the portal. He had grown so accustomed to teleport magic that he was no longer bothered by the breath-taking cold or the eternal instant of falling, but that did not prevent him from being dazed when he finally felt the ground beneath his feet again. The air was filled with sluggish rumbles and long, unintelligible howls. A crimson ball of fire was rolling toward him in slow motion, with orange tendrils curling out from its flanks in listless swirls.
Galaeron dived out of the way and found himself floating among the enormous trunks of a majestic bluetop forest, four spindly arms waving in front of his face. The sight reminded him that he was supposed to be impersonating a phaerimm, though exactly why still remained a mystery to him. While the open woods around him felt familiar, there was something that did not seem quite right, as though he turned a corner and found himself in an unexpected room.
The fireball was still coming, slowly. Behind it, a fork of lightning flickered into existence and slithered through the trees like a crooked white snake, then exploded through a bugbear's chest and twisted off in pursuit of a mind flayer. The attack was answered by ten golden bolts, flying along in a tight wedge formation that angled toward their moon elf target at about the speed of a flock of migrating geese.
Galaeron floated out of the fireball's path. Crouching behind a freshly split boulder about fifty paces distant, he saw a much-battered bladesinger still holding up the smoking hand that had hurled the spell. More offended by the attack than concerned about it, he pulled a few strands of shadow-silk from his pocket and hurled them in the bladesinger's direction, hissing an incantation. The elf was instantly wrapped in a cocoon of sticky black shadow.
Galaeron! the familiar voice of Laeral Silverhand sounded inside his mind. There's no need to defend yourself. You can fly faster than that spell's coming.
A pair of shadow-swathed phaerimm emerged from the trees behind him, Vala close on their barbed toils. As soon as Galaeron saw the emptiness in her eyes, he recalled their plan and saw that something had gone terribly wrong.