The Shadow Stone ta-1 Read online

  The green, humid heat of Flamerule found wizard and student in the cascade-misted glen where Aeron and Eriale had met Fineghal. After a few days of exploring the nearby area and discussing elven history by night, Fineghal decided to cross the forest to check on the western woodlands. "I may rest under a different tree every night for my spirit's ease, but I roam the Maerchwood to watch over it as well," he said as they rested by the stream that evening. "I have a feeling that trouble's brewing near Oslin, and I'd better go look into it."

  "Can I come?" Aeron asked hopefully.

  Fineghal shook his head. "No. I mean to travel fast and return within a day or two. And to be honest, I want to strike a little fear into the hearts of those bandit lords who are cutting into the forest, and it's better if I don't have to watch out for you as well. You'll be fine here."

  "Hmmmph. I guess so." Aeron's heart skipped as he realized that this was the opportunity he'd waited for. Calming himself, he asked, "May I study the spider's climb while you're away? I'd like to carve another glyphwood."

  Fineghal glanced up absently. "Of course. I should have no need of it. Help yourself."

  Aeron stood, dusted off the seat of his breeches, and moved over to the pouch that held Fineghal's spells. The wizard had set it down near his bedroll. Deliberately suppressing the urge to steal a guilty look over his shoulder, Aeron spoke the word of passage necessary to open the pouch and reached within, feeling for the desired stone. His fingers brushed over the cool blue slate that held the spell of spider's climb.. and moved on to grasp the stone called the fire hand. He removed both stones, concealing the fire stone in his sleeve.

  From his left sleeve, he removed a red, egg-shaped rock that was a perfect duplicate for fire hand. He'd used his spell of seeming to create the fake earlier that day. Unless Fineghal actually examined that particular stone, he'd never detect Aeron's theft. Shaking like a leaf, he closed the pouch and straightened.

  "Find it?"

  Aeron gave Fineghal a nervous smile and showed him the blue stone marked with the climbing spell. The second spellstone was hidden in his sleeve. "Right here. I think red maple would suit it well."

  "For your glyphwood? Yes, that should work." If Fineghal suspected anything, he showed no outward sign of it, and with no further words, he returned his attention to the smooth stones of the spell he readied. Aeron quickly retreated to his place by the fire, his heart pounding. He was horrified by his own audacity, but now that he had taken this step, he'd have to work fast to copy both spells before Fineghal returned.

  At length, Fineghal dropped the stones he held back into his pouch, picked up his few belongings, and whistled to Baillegh. The white wolfhound shook herself and stood, tail wagging. "No time like the present, as humans are wont to say," Fineghal said. "Be careful not to stray too far from the vale, Aeron. You're near Maerchlin, and you never know when one of the lord's men might be about. I should be back in a day or two." He touched his hand to his brow in the silent farewell of the elves and vanished into the starlit night.

  Aeron waited an hour, to make certain that Fineghal was well on his way. When he was sure that he wouldn't be caught, he slipped fire hand from his sleeve. The stone seemed a hot accusation in his hand. With a scowl, he silenced his reservations and began his work. If he finished the fire spell but didn't master the spider climb, he could tell Fineghal that he'd had trouble with the translation, gaining an extra few days to finish his study of the spell sigils. "I'll need a wood that burns clean and hot," he murmured, considering the spellstone. "A dry old bit of deadwood, maybe hickory. And I'll need to find a way to keep it away from the rest of my glyphwoods." He couldn't ever let Fineghal see the duarran he'd make from the stolen stone.

  Of course, there was also the question of how he would smuggle fire hand back into Fineghal's pouch without alerting the wizard. Cold apprehension gripped Aeron's heart as he realized the depth of his duplicity. It might have been a petty theft, one that would do Fineghal no harm at all, but the elven lord trusted him. Stilling the protests of his conscience, Aeron stood and began to search for a suitable length of wood.

  Four

  A long week passed, and Fineghal did not return to the thunder and mist of the cascade's glen. Aeron mastered both spells with ease and then devised a hidden pouch in his bundle of glyphwoods to conceal the intricate shapes and markings of the fire spell.

  On the morning of the twelfth day of Fineghal's absence, Aeron awoke to another hot, hazy day typical of high summer in the Maerchwood. It was the ninth day of Eleasias, one year to the day since he'd fled Maerchlin. A full year, he wondered. It didn't seem possible, yet his breeches and sleeves were a little too short, and his shirt felt tight across the chest. He washed in the cold, clear waters of the stream, shaking his golden mane dry and relishing the cool, damp air of the glen.

  Climbing out of the swift-moving stream, he searched the green, wet walls of Fineghal's dell for some sign of the mage's return. Nothing but cool mists, water-shaped boulders, and the lowering trees above met his gaze. Aeron was usually comfortable being alone, but today the silence and solitude weighed on his spirit. On a sudden impulse, he dressed, packed his bow and pouch of glyphwoods, and set out toward Maerchlin. He wanted to see with his own eyes how the town fared.

  He covered the twelve-odd miles to Maerchlin in the long, still hours of morning, trotting effortlessly. As he approached the village, Aeron slowed his pace and used all of his woodcraft to circle toward Kestrel's house without setting foot on the villagers' runs and lanes. He emerged from the forest in the broad cleared lands behind Kestrel's homestead, pausing in the warm shadows of the tree line to gaze out at the cottage and farmyard. It was silent; the barn was open and dark. Abandoning caution, he broke out of the forest's cover and trotted forward, his face taut with worry.

  The house was empty.

  He circled it three times to make sure, searching each room. Broken crockery was scattered by the hearth, and every chest or cupboard in the place had been ripped open and its contents dumped on the floor. As far as Aeron could tell, nothing was missing except for Kestrel and Eriale. It was clear that the place had been searched, and there might have been a struggle, but there was nothing that could tell him what had happened.

  Aeron swore and kicked angrily at the wreckage. He stepped out the front door, looking across the brown rooftops of the village at the walls of Castle Raedel. Could he risk approaching one of the neighbors to ask after Kestrel and Eriale? Finally he turned away and retreated to the safety of the forest. He didn't dare enter Maerchlin, not without a chance to plan and prepare. Raedel would have no mercy on him if he were caught, and whatever had happened to Kestrel's household had happened weeks or months ago.

  By the time he returned to the cascade's glen, it was late in the afternoon, and the small dell was shadowed by the sheer tree-crowned bluffs on all sides. Aeron was tired and hot; a tight knot of concern was clenched under his breastbone, and it dragged at his steps like a physical burden. He collapsed on his bedroll unceremoniously, staring out over the darkening forest.

  "Greetings, Aeron. If I'd been a goblin, I could have run you through." Fineghal stood from the shadows, a glimmer of moonlight rising from a dark, still pond. The elven lord seemed nearly ethereal in substance, as if he lacked the strength to tether himself to the world around him. Fineghal rarely showed fatigue, but Aeron could see at a glance that he was exhausted.

  "Fineghal! I–I was worried about you!" Aeron scrambled to his feet. "What happened?"

  The wizard sighed and moved closer, taking his customary place across from Aeron. With a brief word and a gesture, he caused a small dancing flame to appear in the stone circle they used for their campfire, when they needed one. Aeron noticed that the glen was unnaturally cool, despite the warmth and stillness of the air in the forest. Fineghal shivered visibly, chilled in some way that Aeron could not perceive. "As I feared, trouble was indeed on my doorstep," he began. "All of southern Chessenta is in chaos these days.
For years now, the land's been ruled by brigands, rebel noblemen, and mercenary kings who spend their time bickering over their meager holdings like starving dogs fighting for a scrap of food. More than a few have decided to win a fortune from the Maerchwood by pillaging the ruins of Calmaercor, so every now and then I must. . discourage them. It is usually not too difficult to do so."

  "What was different this time?"

  "I discovered that Baerskos of Villon had hired a wizard of his own, fearing the reputation of the Storm Walker. He set a trap for me."

  "You fought Baerskos? Are you hurt?"

  Fineghal shook his head. "I survived. I was forced to employ many powerful spells. Baerskos and his armsmen are no more, although I don't doubt that some other ruthless outlaw will take his place in a decade or two, with the same dream of carving out a kingdom for himself."

  "What of the wizard?"

  Fineghal warmed his hands by the flame, staring into the flickering light. "I was forced to deal with him as well. A dangerous conjurer, skilled in the raising of fiends and horrors from the darkest depths of the netherworld. I couldn't allow such a creature to set evils of that sort loose on the world. He was nearly a match for me."

  Aeron was stunned. "I thought you were the greatest mage of them all! You know spells that I could never dream of mastering."

  "I am far from the greatest of mages, Aeron. And even if I claimed that title, I should be far from the wisest. My strength is in knowledge and skill. But there are those who take an easier road to power-like the conjurer I faced in Villon-and if power is all a wizard cares to master, he can be a dangerous enemy indeed." Fineghal rubbed his hands together and sighed again. "It was a dreadful contest, one that I nearly lost. He drew me into the planes of darkness and shadow that lie alongside our own, where he was strong and I was weak. There was something wrong with his sorcery, a taint or corruption that fed on the darkness."

  Otherworlds and fiends. . Aeron shuddered at the references. He'd heard the tales, and a few of Fineghal's tomes attempted to explain the mysterious spheres and planes that lay beyond Faerun, but he'd never thought that he might speak to someone who had been there. It unnerved him to think that a world of invisible peril surrounded him, a world that might reach out to claim him should he misspeak a spell or set foot in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Fineghal unclasped his pouch of spellstones, dropping it to the ground. "How did matters stand in Maerchlin?"

  "Maerchlin?" Aeron glanced up in guilty surprise.

  "You went back there while I was in Villon, did you not? I thought that was where you'd gone when I returned here and found you missing." Fineghal's eyes fastened on Aeron. "It was not a wise thing to do, Aeron. You know that Raedel's men consider you a criminal."

  "If I'd known that I was going to be driven from my home, I might've done something to earn it," Aeron growled. "I could have shot Phoros dead instead of stabbing him in the shoulder." He sighed and looked up at Fineghal. "It's been a year since I've seen my home. When you vanished for days and days, I started to get restless. I knew Maerchlin was close by, and I wanted to see how Kestrel and Eriale fare."

  "A year? It didn't seem so long," Fineghal mused. "But I forget that a year means so much more to one of your age than it does to me. I scarcely noticed." He returned his attention to Aeron, his piercing gaze holding the young forester's eyes. Imperceptibly the elf's detachment relaxed. "Not all was well?"

  "No. Kestrel's house was empty. They weren't there."

  "Ah. You fear they've come to grief?"

  "I can't see why they would leave. Kestrel's not wealthy, but he's got everything he needs on his lands. Raedel must have imprisoned him or driven him away, and Eriale, too." Aeron sighed. "Probably to get back at me."

  "They don't have kinfolk somewhere else?"

  "No," Aeron replied. "Kestrel was the last of his family. He lost his brothers in the rebellion of thirteen years ago. And Eriale, of course, has no one but her father." The more Aeron thought about it, the more concerned he was. "There's something wrong here. I've got to find out if they're all right or not."

  "If you even set foot in Maerchlin, you're likely to be clapped in irons," Fineghal pointed out.

  "I don't care." Aeron had had a glimpse of his old life when he visited Kestrel's house. Now that he thought about what might have happened in his absence, he felt as if he'd left them to face his enemies by fleeing into the forest. "If Phoros has hurt Kestrel and Eriale, I'll make him answer for it. They've done nothing wrong."

  "Raedel's father may not hold Kestrel and Eriale."

  "Well, I have to find out, don't I?" Aeron stood and kneaded his hands together, gazing up at the narrow band of stars shining overhead. "I'll go back tomorrow, late in the day. Someone will know what's happened."

  Fineghal sighed and stood. "I agree that you must find out whether your kin are in danger, but you won't help them at all if you fall into Raedel's hands. I know a spell or two that may be useful for slipping into Maerchlin without revealing yourself. You told me that Kestrel's house looked as if it had been empty for some time, right?"

  "Yes, that's right. Several weeks, at least."

  "Then another day won't hurt. I'll teach you the spells you need to know, and you'll be much safer."

  "Would you come with me, Fineghal?"

  The elf shook his head. "Aeron, I'll travel to the edge of the forest and watch for you, but I don't think I should set foot in Maerchlin. In the first place, I am still recuperating from my fight in Villon. Secondly, if it becomes necessary for me to confront and defy Lord Raedel, he'll hold all elves to blame, if not the Maerchwood itself. I might be able to topple one spoiled noble, or maybe two, but if all the lords of Chessenta were to come to Raedel's aid against the elves who remain in these lands, we wouldn't stand a chance. If my actions gave Raedel or any other Chessentan lord the excuse he needed to invade the Maerchwood, I could bring ruin to this place."

  "Then this is something I must do myself," Aeron said.

  "The night is still young. I will begin by showing you the charm of invisibility. If you are careful, this may be all the magic you need to enter Maerchlin and leave again unharmed." Fineghal reached into his pouch and produced a cloudy, translucent piece of quartz, marked with a complicated symbol. "Here. Examine the stone, Aeron."

  By the time dawn grayed out the stars, Aeron was able to cast the spell of invisibility competently, if not comfortably. Despite his fierce desire to strike out for Maerchlin immediately, the need for sleep overwhelmed him, and he was forced to rest a few hours in the early morning. When he woke, he found Fineghal sitting cross-legged on a boulder overlooking the icy pool at the foot of the small cascade. The elf stared absently into space, lost in the endless halls of his ancient memory. He stirred slowly as Aeron approached. "Fineghal? Are you well?"

  "Merely tired, Aeron. Let's use this afternoon to transcribe the charm of invisibility to a glyphwood, so that you will have a permanent record of your own. Then, tomorrow or the next day, you can study a new spell."

  "Fineghal, I don't have time for that."

  The elf looked away, watching the play of the water upon the rocks. "Another spell may be the difference between success and failure in your endeavor, Aeron. If it turns out that you needed the extra preparation, you'll regret your haste now."

  Aeron forced a shrug. "We'll see."

  Fineghal rose smoothly. "Your human side is too strong, Aeron. Haste will be your undoing someday. Very well, let us go. Baillegh!" With an anxious yelp, the white wolfhound appeared, prancing with eagerness. The old elf ran his fingers over her head with a sad smile, shouldered his slim satchel, and followed Aeron out of the dell.

  By now, Aeron could travel nearly as swiftly and silently as Fineghal himself. Ignoring Fineghal's reservations, he loped north and west along hidden trails, approaching Maerchlin by a circuitous route. They reached the edge of the village by midafternoon. The day was hot and overcast, and the gray skies threatened a violent storm b
efore long. Beneath the eaves of the forest, Fineghal caught Aeron's arm. "Remember, if you cast the charm of invisibility, you will be invisible to the eye only. You can still be detected by sound, smell, or touch. If you attempt to harm someone, or if you cast another spell, the charm will fail. Good luck. I will wait here for you."

  "Don't worry, Fineghal. I'll be careful." Aeron gave the wizard a reassuring smile. He hopped the fence that surrounded Kestrel's homestead and gave the place a cursory search. At first he thought that nothing had changed from his last visit; the barn was still empty, and there were no chickens or goats in the farmyard. But by the house, a deerskin was strung on a frame, scraped and drying, and the small smoking shed was acrid with recent use.

  With some trepidation, Aeron entered the house but found it empty. No one was home at the moment. Could Kestrel and Eriale have returned? Many of their small belongings were missing, but others remained and showed signs of use. He thought it over and decided to question the neighbors. Old Toric, down the lane, had always been a friend and had little love for Lord Raedel.

  Aeron turned west and trotted across the open fields to the farmer's house. Toric's fields seemed in good shape; it had been a good summer for the crops so far, with sunshine and rain in the right proportions. He glanced around furtively, but no one was near, so he rapped on the farmer's door. "Toric? Shiela? Anybody home?"

  Shiela Goldsheaf, wife to old Toric Goldsheaf, opened the door and peered out. She was a stout apron-clad woman of middle years, blessed with the ability to talk incessantly about even the most trivial matters. "Aeron? I never thought to see you again! Where in Faerun have you been?"

  "Hello, Shiela. I hoped you could tell me where Kestrel and Eriale have gone." Aeron glanced up and down the lane. "May I come inside? I'd rather not be seen here."