Blackstaff

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

29 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Tsarra shook her head to clear her eyesight, and she realized she was sprawled on the floor of the temple between the statue and Khelben. For the first time, there was no disorientation from the vision or any headache. She knew at least the general truth about the sharn. She also awoke angry, then realized it wasn't her rage as much as it was that of her tressym. The avian creature darted in and out, slashing at the sharn… or was it? The creature that batted away at Nameless wore the greasy black skin of the sharn and its limbs ended in the same elongated tri-arms with claws, but it stood on the four legs and body of a strong stallion and had a heavily muscled torso. It seemed more to be a silhouette of a centaur, save for its two oddly distended limbs. The creature advanced on Khelben, and the tressym looped around its front, hissing savagely to warn it off. She sent to the tressym, No, wait. I don't think he means harm. His reaction was to hiss again at the sharn and bare his claws as warning as he flew back to Tsarra. Dangersmell, predator, darkelder wounded, helpless prey! he sent to Tsarra as she stepped forward between the sharn and Khelben. She tried not to flinch when she saw her mentor collapsed on the marble floor. Silver flames and blood alike spilled from a large ragged hole in his robes where his left hip and torso met. Were he a normal man, Tsarra guessed he might have been either dead or, even with expert healers, hobbled for life. Khelben? Tsarra sent to her mentor through the kiira. Can you hear me? How badly are you hurt?

Yes, apprentice, I hear you. The bolt knocked me out for a few breaths, and it obviously left me a significant wound. For now, it's more important I get a few moments to prepare a spell. Distract him for me, would you? Tsarra stepped closer to the sharntaur and drew her scimitar, holding it point upward across her chest. "Come no farther, creature." She wasn't quite sure what to expect of it, but she knew her grandfather's blade Maornathil should do well against it, regardless of what strange magic it wielded. "You don't need to fear us." The sharntaur's voice sounded deeper but more commonplace rather than the odd echo in what Tsarra deemed a sham's usual tone. "I don't." Tsarra surprised herself with her unbidden answer. She really had no fears of the creature for the first time. She understood what she faced and knew it was well within her abilities to deal with the creature. Gone were the flashes of temper, the nagging fears and doubts, and all the uncertainties of the past few days. She wondered how much of them were hers and how much were perhaps those of Danthra, her friend whose soul had come to link her with their mentor. The sharntaur nodded at her then stamped its hooves. This action seemed to surprise it, and it rotated its head completely around twice, staring at its own form even as its actions defied its normal structure. Eyes erupted across its form, opening along its torso and lower body. Its skin shimmered as it reasserted its centaur nature, closing all eyes but two that looked at Khelben, Tsarra, and Nameless. It then distended its head around them all to look at the fallen thief. Tsarra backed up and knelt by Khelben, resting her scimitar on the floor. She held him around the chest and under his arms so he had both his arms free to cast his spell, rather than prop himself up on one elbow. The wound's blood flow had soaked his lower robes, but the silver fire cauterized it and prevented any further blood loss. Only after she had done all that did Tsarra realize he'd not said a word. Had she read his mind? Khelben wove subtle sigils in the air as he spoke, interspersing his statements with his spell's arcane incantations.

What he spoke was apparently a dialect of Elvish that Tsarra had never heard, as she couldn't understand all that Khelben said. "Ye who have been sukarat a'layr are sinaglar again. Accept nuamil and learn of tuul edemp close at hand." Khelben completed his spell, and his hands suddenly held a crackling globe of purple and azure energies that drifted in the air toward the creature. The sharntaur reared up on its hind legs when a chorus of yells erupted from its right hand side. A handful of wizards, bards, and spellcasting priests burst from the Great Library's doors, weapons drawn and readied. Khelben yelled,

"No!" and waved them off, but two of the bards aimed arrows at the sharntaur. With a feline snarl, Tsarra urged her tressym into action.

"Spoil their shots, now!" Nameless bolted toward them, spraying into the face of the first bard while clamping claws and jaws on the bow hand of the second to make him drop his weapon. For her part, Tsarra pulled up the memory of ice growing on a still pond and the smell of the frosty snap of chilling air. This spun together the magic that put an invisible shield between the archers and their target. The only hint that she had cast a spell at all were the whispered incantations only Khelben could hear. Nameless flew past the swiftly growing group and looped up in the air for another pass when a voice from behind the archers boomed out, "Enough! Stand your ground and do not interrupt them unless they bring direct harm to you!" Tsarra and Khelben both sighed in relief as the temple's founder pushed his way to the front of the group. Sandrew the Wise, lorekeeper high and ranking priest of Oghma here, spread his arms wide then moved toward the fallen thief while keeping an eye on the goings-on in front of him. The man's priestly calling to Oghma demanded he value knowledge and history as well as tending to the aggrieved. He seemed equally fascinated in what Khelben was up to with the sharntaur and horrified at the disturbance of his temple's peace. Tsarra watched him as he began weaving healing spells around the man's arm and head. She thought it odd treatment for a rogue who had defiled a god's temple, but she had never met Sandrew.

For all she knew, he might be among the more compassionate of high priests, unlike the callous Meleghost Starseer of the House of Wonder.

Her initial impression of the Oghman priest was of strength and purpose as he rose and helped the red-shirted rogue to his feet.

Sandrew was clad in white pants and shirt with a golden vest and slippers. The head of the Font of Knowledge stood relatively tall, his shoulders square and strong, unlike many lifelong scholars with stooped and bowed shoulders. Aside from a receding line of graying hair, the priest's age was not apparent. Tsarra realized with a start that the red-shirted thief was the man they'd encountered the previous morning-and the same man whose blade set off the lightning that killed Danthra. Yes, Tsarra, he's entangled with our fates in many ways.

Tsarra returned her attention to matters in front of her, including the injured Blackstaff. Khelben, what happened? I didn't even see the lightning strike-I lost consciousness a moment after the three artifacts reacted to each other. I was lost in your memories for a few breaths, but I learned a lot about our friend here. Good. There's less to explain now. As for my predicament, I intercepted the magic directly and paid the price. Khelben's response shocked Tsarra as it exceeded his typical penchant for understatement. You caught the lightning? Weren't you the one who used to warn me about taking too many risks or asking questions too late after leaping? Good advice, that. We should both listen to that prudent sage. It isn't exactly lightning, though. How can you tell? Because I'm immune to lightning, my dear. Adamar's song, I've not been hurt this badly… since your encounter with the Crown of Horns? Khelben's face darkened, and his eyes blazed into hers for a moment. Through their link, Tsarra felt a roiling upsurge of rage, pain, sadness, horror, and regret. If she had not felt his emotions, she might have missed that look, as it took him less than the blink of an eye's time to restore his features to their normal unreadable state and his emotions under tight rein once again. Sorry, Khelben. It's not easy for me either, sharing your thoughts and memories. No apologies necessary, Tsarra. You're holding up better with this than I might have at thirty-four. I'm simply unused to having someone other than Laeral complete my thoughts so concisely. I am more angry at myself, having counted on a certain invulnerability when I should have heeded my instincts. So why did you throw yourself into its path? You already knew it could affect you since this morning. Khelben's chagrin and resolve were all evident in his response. The lightning would have destroyed the support walls of the temple, collapsing it upon all of us that were within it. Lives would have been lost, as well as that statue- a legacy of Myth Drannor actually crafted by my father. I just didn't expect to take as much of the bolt, given the transfer of energies to the sharn through the globe. As Khelben and Tsarra silently conversed, the sharntaur slowed its rearing and pawing at the air with alternating hooves and its strange tri-arms. It settled down and stared at the globe that hovered in the air before it. Eyes again peppered the creature's surface to reflect the energies of the globe. It reached out, and its skin glowed in response as well. Its claws dissolved as it touched the globe, its tri-arm melting into a normal centaur's hand, albeit obsidian-skinned.

Once both hands embraced the globe, its energy leeched into the sharntaur's skin and body, forming constellations of winking purple and blue stars among the blackness of its shape. Tsarra found herself speaking in concert with Khelben, finally understanding the obscure Elvish dialect as the two said, "Remember and return redeemed and readied. We shall await you at Faertelmiir." Tsarra didn't quite know what she was referring to, but the certainty of it never wavered in her or Khelben's minds. She looked down at her mentor, who she helped settle onto his back, his wound still a massive hollow where his hip and side should be. The only evidence revealing his incredible pain was his shallow and rapid breathing. He smiled at her. Don't miss this, Tsarra. Watch the sharn, not me. The sharntaur, its silhouetted form fully centauran save for its glistening black skin, bowed to Khelben and Tsarra from its waist. It also wove a number of hand signals and gestures as it bowed in Sandrew's direction as well. The priest returned a number of the gestures and bowed. The sharntaur crouched then leaped high into the air, which elicited a chorus of screams and gasps as it appeared to leap for Sandrew and the statue.

Instead, it disappeared into a nimbus of purple lights at the apogee of its leap. Tsarra looked down at Khelben again, surprised to find tears of joy rimming both their eyes. Khelben whispered, "You feel it, don't you? Even if you're not fully aware of it all, part of you knows what's to come and rejoices at it. Remember that when things get bleak. It will help you through harder days than this one. Now, prepare to bear the endgame that is upon us. I'm sorry I did not prepare you better-I thought I had more time. So many things undone, unsaid." Tsarra felt a flash of warning in her head along with the loud growl of Nameless as he flew down to protect her. The tressym landed on her left shoulder as the priest and their opponent stepped close to them. His eyes not on them, Sandrew muttered a few words in prayer, and a glow emanated from his hands. He spread his arms in arcs overhead, and the glow settled into a radiant hemisphere around the quintet. "There," said the priest. "Oghma loves to share knowledge, but he also knows when to keep secrets from prying eyes and ears."

"Glad to see that prayer book I gave you for the founding has seen good use," Khelben said then coughed violently, expelling small amounts of blood and smoke from his mouth. Tsarra felt his embarrassment over his seeming weakness, though he seemed to have some concerns toward his continued health. "Lord Arunsun?" Sandrew the Wise asked as he kneeled down opposite Tsarra on the other side of Khelben.

"Thank you for saving my temple from destruction, milord archmage. May I heal your suffering?" Sandrew's cleanshaven face was both young and ancient at the same time, as his unwrinkled brow and umber-colored eyes seemed to hold the insight of ages. "No, thank you, Loremaster High. It looks worse than it is. That matter is well in hand." Khelben nodded, though Tsarra noticed his face had returned to its usual stony facade, revealing no more than absolutely necessary. "The scrolls will unfurl in due time, old friend. For now, introduce us to our erstwhile foe. I believe we all have met briefly, though names were not exchanged." Tsarra found herself unable to look away from the young man who locked eyes with her rather than submit to Khelben's interrogation. While his loose-necked crimson shirt and black leather breeches still bore the marks and stains of a few recent battles, the man himself was clean and whole, his dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. His youngish face had a close-trimmed full beard.

Tsarra was distracted by his eyes-slate gray with highlights of blue, like eclipsed marble-until he averted them to look at and offer a palm toward Nameless, who had been growling loudly. The tressym sniffed warily, his head bobbing to get a better range of scent about the man, and Tsarra felt her familiar's reactions-an odd stream of emotions from surprise, hatred, curiosity, disgust, amusement, jealousy, contempt, and confusion. Nameless began meowing loudly, which Tsarra understood as "Stinks of longdeadnots and marsh and stone. Didn't smell that before through sparksmell and fearstink. Like his scent, and he knows not to risk scratching my ears. He still goodforyou matefriend maybe? He huntercurious but also smellfury and wantflightfight like me." Tsarra picked up her scimitar and said, "He says you smell of undead, and that makes me distrust you immediately.

Despite your open approach toward him, my friend knows you're furious at something and really want to be elsewhere." "Undead, you say? Thank you, Nameless, for that information." Khelben's irritation was obvious in his snapped query. "Well, boy? Can you account for your actions?

Tell us for whom you work." His voice never wavered, but Tsarra could feel his strength waning, and his breathing grew labored. The man's eyes widened, and he looked frantically at Tsarra, Khelben, and Sandrew, mouthing words mutely. He grimaced and seemed to scream, but no sound came from him other than the rustle and creak of clothing and the rush of air from his mouth. Sandrew's hands glowed as he touched the man on the throat, but an attempt to speak after that only produced a rasp. Sandrew looked down and said, "I'm afraid we can learn precious little, Blackstaff. He has been rendered mute by the forces that turned him against his own church." Tsarra asked, "So he's a lay worshiper of Oghma?" "Aye, lass," Sandrew said. "This is Raegar Stoneblade. He first came to us as a stonecutter during the Font's construction, but he has since joined us as a devout worshiper as well." Khelben asked, "Is that why he's been spying on my tower and students?" Sandrew's eyes widened, and he spun toward Raegar. "Not by my authority, Blackstaff. Betimes the Font will have seekers pry secrets and lore from those unwilling to share openly, but you and yours have always been friends to us. It appears I have not been as diligent as I might have been over loremasters who may have approved such mischief. Is that the case, Raegar?" Raegar nodded and gesticulated wildly, trying to pantomime his point, but Khelben began a violent coughing fit, and his shaking reopened his wound. Blood gushed over the floor, and Tsarra felt Khelben weaken, then go silent.

His eyes fluttered and closed. "Khelben?" she asked, kneeling in the blood and putting her hand to his neck to find no heartbeat beneath her hand. Khelben!