Blackstaff

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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

The exposed blackstaves spun and whirled, propelled by the unfurling of the cloak, which swooped back into the wardrobe. The thin black wooden staves grated and scraped across the stones of the chamber, each moving to a different point in the room, stopping about a footstep away from Laeral and Raegar. Raegar stared, never having been close to the legendary blackstaff and in awe as he watched thirteen position themselves around the room. All seemed to be made of duskwood or some other darkened wood and were black as night. That's where their similarities ended. Some were shod in metal or had it infused in them. Others held large gems embedded in their tips or elsewhere. Still others were carved to appear as sinuous snakes or a collection of fists. Raegar was fascinated by the staves, most of which were polished to a glossy sheen, though a few were dull or apparently burnt to achieve their blackened status. "I never knew there was more than one blackstaff," Raegar remarked. "No reason you or any outsider would, boy," Laeral said. "Khelben rarely shares secrets unless time or expediency demands it." Raegar, entranced by the blackstaves, only realized Laeral had moved when she spoke. He heard the door to the tower open and turned to see five figures enter silently and quickly to take their places around the room's perimeter.

Raegar kept his face impassive but even he knew some of these notables of Art within the city. His mind boggled at the thought of a plan that required the Blackstaff to join forces with the arrogant and preening purple-cloaked wizard Maaril the Dragonmage. While he didn't know him well, Raegar nodded in greeting to a surprised Winter Zulth, the half-elf wizard they'd met the previous summer in Dock Ward when Damlath insisted they visit the Horizon's Sails to find some magically created navigational maps. Two other wizards-one male elf and one human woman-Raegar didn't recognize, but he certainly knew the final entrant. The half-elf woman walked with a slight limp, her gnarled white ash staff providing her with support. The mistress of Selune's Smile had the ample curves of humanity with the aquiline features and pointed ears of elvenkind. Her clothes, as always, were daringly tailored with ample decolletage to flatter her figure. The steel blue and dark purple of her clothes accented her floor length dark hair, which seemed to gleam with starlight save for a stripe of white along her temples. Her purple eyes beamed at the thief after she'd given a quick hug to Laeral and turned to face the room. "Raegar, darling!

Whatever are you doing here, and where is that rascal Damlath?"

Kyriani Agrivar moved quickly to his side and snuggled close to Raegar. "'Tis crowded enough here, lass. Don't wish for more, especially strangers," Maaril growled at her. Kyriani stuck her tongue out at Waterdeep's infamous Dragonmage. Nameless, from his perch atop the wardrobe, hissed down at Maaril, who twisted his dragon-headed staff toward the tressym, its eyes glowing with malice. A whoosh of displaced air and a twinkle of blue sparks placed a tall man in iron-gray leathers and a sky-blue cloak between Maaril and Nameless.

The man's back was to Raegar as he faced Maaril, who glared then stared away and appeared to find interest in the blackstaves still spinning around the room. Two crackles of green energy and a whirlwind of gold dust heralded the arrival of others by teleport magic. Raegar tried to identify them, but Kyriani distracted him by slipping her hand inside his shirt and rubbing his chest. "Raegar, sweetums," Kyri teased, "you're going to make me think I've lost my touch. I asked you nicely where Damlath is and you've ignored me." "Sorry, Kyri," Raegar whispered. "Damlath's dead, and I'm going to help take out the bastard who killed him." Kyri's playful teasing and the laughter in her eyes stopped instantly. She whispered a prayer to Selune then kissed Raegar on the cheek before whispering, "Avenge our friend, Stoneblade. If I could help you, I would, but the Blackstaff demands other tasks of me tonight." "What is he doing here, Laeral?" The tall man's voice boomed across the room as he pulled his hood back, revealing a strong, clean-shaven face and long, dark hair. "Bad enough I've had to work with-" "Patience, Malchor," Laeral interrupted. "We all have our roles to play here, whether planned, foretold, or otherwise. He has a stake in this too, and one far more personal than yours." "Raegar has met the foe who drives our plan forward and will face him where you won't." To Raegar's surprise, Khelben appeared on the stairs. He bore none of the wounds he'd suffered only hours before, and Tsarra was nowhere to be seen. Raegar glanced toward Laeral and cocked an eyebrow, and she shook her head. Raegar knew life among wizards could be puzzling, but he found himself distracted by the missing Tsarra Chaadren. "Who is our foe, exactly?" Winter Zulth asked, his voice soft and barely heard among the general buzz of muttered conversations. "Time," Khelben said, as he descended the stairs into the chamber. "Time and Priamon Rakesk." Kyriani asked, "How can you expect Raegar to survive alone against that creature? Frostrune even managed to surprise Halaster!" "Using the honorific that fool gave himself just feeds his arrogance." Khelben said. "That said, Raegar shall not face him alone. He and I do this together along with Tsarra Chaadren and her familiar." Nameless sat up and promptly snapped his wings open when Khelben drew the room's attention to him. Khelben moved to the center of the room, holding one blackstaff shod with silver caps on each end in his right hand. Another staff was slung across his back, a thick ruby set one foot down its shaft and intricate carvings crawling the length of its surface. Crooked in his left arm, he carried a large oaken box similar to the one Laeral had placed on the floor behind them. Khelben turned and nodded greetings to everyone in the room, eight visitors in all beyond himself, Laeral, and Raegar. By the time he'd finished greeting the others, he stared at Laeral and said, "Gamalon can remain secluded a bit longer, until you truly need him, dear. But where's Nain? I thought he had arrived earlier this afternoon. It's not like him to be late." A sneeze from up the stairs heralded the arrival of Nain Keenwhistler. Coming into the light, his chalk-white hair and pasty appearance set him apart from the shadows of the stairwell. The wizard was gangly, a well-dressed scarecrow in well-appointed russet robes and shining black boots. He bore a massive tome in his hands, and his attentions were on that. He did not see the room or the persons there until he looked up. Raegar noticed the man looked sickly and wan, but Nain blanched even further when he saw the blackstaves standing at attention in the chamber. The large tome fell from his hands and tumbled down the stairs. "Oh no," Nain whispered. "No, Khelben. Not again. You promised. Never again." "If there were any other way, I would do it. There is no other option," replied Khelben. "Then find another to do my part." Nain's voice quivered with tension and desperation. "Khelben, do you really think it's…?" a tiefling mage unknown to Raegar asked, but a glare from the Blackstaff stopped his inquiry cold. "Yes, I do, Tulrun, and Master Keenwhistler knows it as well. You all know that I do not trust easily." Khelben's pause rested in a pointed stare at Maaril. "Each of you has talents, abilities, and proclivities we need for this plan to succeed. Each of you will contribute more than you even know to a work of utmost importance. So much depends on you all on this Feast of the Moon." "I don't want to touch one of those things ever again, Khelben! Haven't I given enough? How many times can you ask me to do this?" Nain Keenwhistler sat down, his face ashen in despair. "Only this one last time, Nain," Khelben said, placing the box in Nain's lap. "Mystra has vowed it be so, and our Lady of Mysteries smiles on those who bear their burdens with trust in her." "Easy for you to say, Blackstaff,"

Nain wailed. "You haven't died four times in her service. Twice by your orders." "True. I've only done so seven times, and countless others have given their lives for our plan to reach this point. Any sacrifices are worth it, and you all know it. The stakes and what we do-what we gain for the Realms-are too high to not risk all we can… all we must." His tone softened, and he reached out to rest a hand on Nain's shoulder, who flinched in response. "You are far stronger than you ever believed yourself to be, Nain Keenwhistler. Do not doubt, when this night shall show you what true strength and character can do. Believe in this and yourself." Maaril snorted behind Khelben and said, "If I'd known I would be working with simperers, I would never have left my tower." Laeral snapped back at him, "Maaril, this man needs no dragons to bulwark his power." Maaril opened his mouth to protest but stopped as Laeral narrowed her eyes at him and continued,

"In his lifetimes, Nain has faced terrors you could not without soiling your oh-so-splendid robes. Now hold your tongue, lest someone here volunteer to hold it for you." Khelben said, "Well put, my dear.

Now, we must away. Laeral, Malchor, I trust you two can ready our allies and the site." He turned on his heels, heading toward the door.

"Raegar, tressym, both of you come with me, now." Khelben moved to the door and opened it, finally turning around to face the crowd of assembled Art-wielders. He bowed from the waist, tipping his staff to his forehead in salute. "We shall all meet on the Plains of Kahyraphaal before moonrise tomorrow at Malavar's Grasp or its environs. Milady and Malchor Harpell speak for me in the meantime.

Good luck, the speed of gods, the wishes of Those who Watch, and the Moon's Benison upon us all. We shall meet in the eye of the storms before dawn." Raegar didn't understand half of Khelben's farewell, but the tone was hopeful, and most heads in the room nodded agreement.

Nameless leaped off the wardrobe and settled around Khelben's shoulders, tucking one wing under the wizard's chin to stabilize his perch. The Blackstaff's pace forced Raegar to dash after him, and the two of them left Blackstaff Tower at a fairly good clip. Raegar drew up the hood of his cloak as rain pelted down on him. He glanced up and saw lightning bolts play across the sky, thunder booming in response.

Five more lightning bolts zigzagged across the clouds and struck the peak of Mount Waterdeep. The thunder rattled shutters and startled many a horse in the City of Splendors that night. Raegar wondered if the weather was an omen of worse things to come. "Um, Lord Arunsun?" he asked, as Khelben moved far more quickly than he expected. The mage was already five paces ahead of him and marching straight down Swords Street. "Where are we going?" Raegar noticed that the rain seemed too afraid to touch the Blackstaff, as he and his clothes remained dry despite the downpour. "To the Eightower." "Isn't that tower haunted?"

"Indeed." "And we're going there because…?" Raegar finally caught up with Khelben. "Because its mistress has cause for revenge against Priamon, as do I." Raegar put on a tight, toothless smile. "Good. I'd hate to be the only one." Raegar and Khelben made their way down past Tharleon Street, and the pyramidal top of the Eightower loomed above them. It shone in the stormy night, but its light barely spread beyond the edges of the tower itself. Raegar had heard of the tower and passed it by many times. The pyramid on top was Shoon-inspired architecture that marked the building as the home of a wizard or sorcerer. He heard that anyone who crossed the threshold of the garden gate drew the attention of the spirit who haunted the grounds.

Raegar's father loved telling spook stories, but all his son remembered was that the ghost was a member of House Wands. The Wands clan kept the property undisturbed, aside from having servants harvest flowers and vegetables from the gardens, in respect for their lost ancestor. "Khelben, are you sure this will lead us to Frostrune?"

Raegar asked. As they entered the archway into the garden and stepped onto the slate flagstones of the garden path, the rogue felt a slight chill. Lightning lit up the sky in a massive triple strike of bolts into Mount Waterdeep. Just as those struck, another bolt exploded overhead as lightning erupted from the pyramid, joining its brethren in the skies. The crystal facets glowed and crackled, shimmering with energy. Khelben stared upward into the driving rain at the tower, and Raegar barely heard his reply over the wind. "Indeed."