Keya looked, but, as she said, the smoke was impervious to sight and magic-at least any magic she had been given. All she could see was the curtain of smoke billowing across the hill, a handful of illithids scrambling up into the talus- and it occurred to her what she did not see. The invisibles had attacked, so now they should be visible-but she still couldn't see them, not with any of her wands. Realizing how well the small band had planned its attack, Keya swept her gaze down the mountainside.
She found them halfway down the Vine Vale, staggering out of a small black door in the middle of an arbor-covered terrace. The first was a bearded human in scorched robes, the hair on his bare chest singed away around a grotesque brown scar. The second was a Gold elf in the elaborate armor of an Evereskan noble, as were the third, fourth, and all the others that followed. "It's the Swords!" Keya cried. "They're back!" "The Swords?" gasped Kiinyon. "Of Evereska?"
"Well, some-a few" No sooner had Keya said this than she thought of her father and began to search the faces in the party. "1 see Lord Dureth, and Janispar Orthorion, and a black-bearded human."
"That human, could it be Khelben Arunsun?" This time it was Lord Duirsar himself asking. "And tell us how you can see them, damn it! The tower mages can't find them in that wretched smoke."
"I'm sorry, milord-they're down in the Vine Vale, in the ThistleHoney Vineyard," said Keya. "And I don't know Khelben Arunsun, but the human is carrying a black… by the golden rose, no!" "What?" demanded Lord Duirsar. " 'No,' what?"
Keya did not answer, for the last two elves emerging from the black door held a litter bearing the shrouded figure of a dead body She could not see who lay beneath the shroud, but there was no mistaking the acid-pitted helmet lashed across the figure's chest. A simple basinet of silvery mithral steel, it was by far the plainest of any worn by the Noble Blades. It belonged to Aubric Nihmedu. "Watcher!" roared Kiinyon. "Answer Lord Duirsar!"
"I–I apologize, milords," said Keya. "The human has a black beard and black staff, and he shows sign of a grave injury More than that, I cannot tell you of him."
"And why did you cry out?" prompted Zharilee. "Lord Duirsar asked about that as well."
"I saw…" Keya paused to clear the catch in her throat and saw a patrol of elves rushing past the Swords to meet two phaerimm that had teleported in to attack the battered company from behind. "Excuse me, but if you want to see Khelben Arunsun alive, you must send some war mages to help."
Before she had finished the sentence, a circle of high mages appeared between the fleeing elves and their would-be attackers. With a sweep of her hand, the center erected a wall of golden radiance and sent it rolling toward the enemy. The phaerimm countered by sending a cone of cold blasting through the wall to strike down one of the mages, then it teleported away. The surviving Swords were swept up by the patrol and hurried toward the protection of the mythal. So went the battles for Evereska, swift and deadly and never-ending.
"We'll see to the Swords, Keya." Now that things appeared to be under control, Lord Duirsar's voice was gentler. 'Tell us what you saw." "Lord Nihmedu…" She stopped to choke back a sob, then realized that her brother was now Lord Nihmedu and began to wonder what had become of him, and she could not stop the tears. "I'm sorry to report the Swords' blademajor has fallen." "Your father?" Zharilee gasped. Keya nodded and looked away from the wand-window.
"I'm sorry, Keya. He was a good friend and a loyal Evereskan," said Lord Duirsar. His voice grew softer, and he spoke to Kiinyon Colbathin. "Under the circumstances, Vale Marshall, I wonder if the Long Watcher might be excused." "Of course," said Kiinyon. "Feel free to retire, Watcher."
"Thank you, milord." Keya wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to the wand-window. "Do you have someone to relieve me, Zharilee?"
The Gold elf hesitated. "We're well-covered in other posts."
"But none of the other posts reported the Swords' return?" Keya asked.
Zharilee shook her head. "There are a couple that should have seen it, but no."
"Then I'll stay." Keya turned back toward the High Vale. "The Long Watch has its duty, too."
CHAPTER TWENTY
30 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp
"Wulgreth number two."
"Definitely two." Peering around the chamber, Galaeron nodded his agreement with Takari's conclusion. "This has to be Jhingleshod's Wulgreth."
The pyramid's second room was as dusty as the first, but packed with implements required by any practicing wizard. There were mortars and kettles and vials, balances, braziers, and bottles, tablets, scrolls, and librams-many librams, all lined up on shelves and safely protected behind glass doors. There was also a thick tome of spells, resting on a stand beneath a hovering glowball, open to a spell near the back and not at all covered in dust.
A loud grating sound came from the far corner. Galaeron turned to see Takari springing away from a small crawlway, sword in hand and the first syllable of a fire spell gliding off her tongue. When nothing sprang out to attack, she gestured at a depressed trigger-stone in the floor. "That was easy"
'Too easy." Galaeron kicked a loose stone into the crawl-way, then winced as a wall of green magic descended behind it. "This lich is a tricky one."
"Something he learned from the demons of Ascalhorn," agreed Jhingleshod, stepping into the room. "Easier to lead a victim to his doom than to push him into it."
"A lesson Galaeron would do well to remember," Melegaunt said. He followed the others into the room, and seeing the open spellbook, shook his head in scorn. "A little too inviting, I would say." He flicked a hand at the stand, and a pall of shadow fell over the pages. 'To guard against a straying glance."
Though Galaeron suspected the comment was directed at him, he did not object. The open book was too obvious an invitation. Sooner or later, someone would glance over to see what Wulgreth had been studying and would find himself compelled to continue reading, activating some spell of possession or imprisonment. He was beginning to understand this lich. Unlike the first, which had wanted to drive them off, this one wanted to control them.
The glowball brightened of its own accord, filling the chamber with harsh light and deep shadows. Along the back wall stood a small collection of gilt armor and bejeweled weapons, all enchanted so heavily that an aura of magic showed through the thick coating of dust. Next to the weaponry stood a rack of wands and staves, and next to that sat a row of treasure chests. In front of one chest kneeled Malik, his hands plunged to his wrists in a bed of jewels, his gaze blank and empty.
Galaeron pulled the little man from the chest, spraying jewels across the floor, and slammed the coffer shut. "Don't!" Malik blinked several times, then reached for his dagger. "No need to be greedy, elf. There are gems enough here to make rich men of us all!"
'To make us Wulgreth's slaves." Galaeron looked to the others. "Don't touch it. This is bait." "Bait?" Vala was eyeing a suit of gleaming chain mail.
Galaeron stepped in front of her. "It's how he recruits his undead servants, I think. You saw Malik's eyes." She nodded.
"A clever scheme." Takari eyed the treasure as though it were offal. "If we can't touch anything without becoming slaves, we can't sort through it to find his phylactery" "Unless we dispel the magic first," said Melegaunt. "Then dispel it," Jhingleshod said.
"My magic is not unlimited." Melegaunt eyed the wall of magic items. "It will take someone more powerful than I to dispel all this."