Blackstaff

CHAPTER THIRTY

Feast of the Moon, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Tsarra found it odd that she was smiling as she faced the shimmering wall of black sharnforms. Before I forget, Khelben, that face you made at Priamon was priceless, Tsarra sent to Khelben as he slipped beneath the surface of the sharn. It wasn't too much? Laeral accuses me of being a ham at times. It was a little over the top, but he took the bait. As long as he keeps moving in the direction we need him to go… Indeed. You've learned more than I realized in your short time with us. Now, step forward and learn more about magic than you previously dreamed. We shall need this insight with the sharn for what we do next. Tsarra looked back once at Nameless and Raegar, and she yearned to stay. Still, what she knew moved her forward. She smiled at them, turned, and stepped forward into infinity. Tsarra's first impression was that it felt equally like slipping into an overly warm bath, the empathic embrace of her familiar's bond, and the chaotic stomach-tumble of falling in love. She felt herself move around, willing her arms and legs to move, but she also sensed that they had temporarily ceased to exist. She felt the air moving around her, but it was and wasn't her skin across which the breeze flowed. In fact, she felt as if clothes no longer impeded the breeze. She sniffed, and her usually sharp senses could not isolate scents beyond the strongest-wood smoke, cinnamon, and the bitter coppery smell of spilled blood. Where is all this coming from? she asked herself.

Tsarra blinked and felt dizzy-she looked out on more than nine different scenes all at once. She recognized a few features of Waterdeep through one eye, while another watched the sun rising on the shores of a small island, and more scenes than Tsarra could process.

More and more eyes opened until she shut hers, or so she thought. She looked upon dozens and dozens of sights both sunlit and dark, beneath storms or clear skies, in deep tombs and atop mountains… and the images kept coming… Tsarra! The shout drew her back to herself.

Once again, Khelben drew her out of madness. Lass, you dive in too easily. This isn't mere sorcery or wizardry, so you need to be careful. Focus on my voice again. I'll stay with you. Khelben's voice rang strong in her mind, but thundering behind it was a cacophony of voices. Khelben's face appeared near her, the white wedge of his beard shimmering with purple light as blue sparks revealed his face separate from the darkness. Remember who you are, Tsarra. Don't drift or meld too far into the sharnmind. Just listen to it and watch. See through its eyes, but only as much as you can handle. Know you are apart of all this. Neither give in to it or fight it-just be with it, and it will teach us all we need to know. Thanks to the past few days, you've become adept at bearing more than one soul. Now, get in touch with being both one singular form and many forms. That was the strangest sensation-like dreaming and feeling your body but not… but still seeing and moving and feeling something, Tsarra sent to Khelben. Are we sharn now? You said earlier it was a way to more quickly move to where we needed to go. It is, yes, Khelben replied, but it is also an experience you'll need in order to help me do what I foresaw nine hundred and ten years ago this night when I was Chosen. You've been waiting for this to happen for nearly a thousand years? You saw us melding with sharn? Is that why you've kept me in the tower for so long? Waiting for this? Aye-that and more. Know that they who are with us, around us, within us, have waited far longer than that. The noise surrounding her moved closer, and she recognized it as both a sea of random voices talking amongst themselves and the collective droning of a repetitive phrase: n'fhaorn… avael… avaess… n'quel… n'sukarat'layr. Tsarra knew she wasn't blind, but she wasn't seeing physical forms. The overall gloom seemed almost empty until magical sparkles winked into existence near her, as Khelben appeared. When a form arrived near her like that, its voice stood out from the overall din. Each form was little more than a hint, purple and blue sparkles outlining muscles and features of an unclad but ideal creature: gnome, human, elf, centaur, or others. Their outer and inner forms had not matched in ages, and many of them stared at their sparkling outlines in wonder, as if waking from a long dream. Tsarra knew without asking that all of them comprised the sharn collectively, not individually, and they had all chosen their form and their fate. Very good, child.

The voice came from "behind" Tsarra, who shifted her attention to that area and found herself staring into an eye larger than her head.

Despite the softness of the sending, Tsarra's instinctive reaction was fear. As the eye narrowed and the dragon's outline morphed down into a beautiful elf woman, Tsarra saw three dazzling points of light-far brighter than all the others-approaching both of them. What or who is that? Tsarra sent and asked aloud, though both became mental impressions of her question, rather than anything audible. They wish to meet you, as did we all. The elf woman who was a dragon caressed Tsarra's face, her touch both warm and cool in this maelstrom of sensations. Khelben's face and form shimmered near, and she saw that like the others Khelben's outline was stripped of any clothing. Tsarra looked down at her own form, realizing that she too stood exposed and vulnerable, right down to the birthmarks on her left hip-three dots of purple sparks. The oddest difference between Khelben and all others was the scars he bore on his image-random scars on his face, arms, and legs, and the massive hand-wide scar slashing across his torso. His left leg went missing here as well, and he bled silver sparkles from the stump and around his hip. Khelben? What aren't you telling me? And why am I so afraid of those three lights? Tsarra sent to her mentor.

Fear is healthy when one faces fundamental changes. What you learn now is how to navigate a sea of thoughts and intentions and sensations and magic. What they may teach you, even I do not know. They are the Three Watchers. The last person they spoke to in any direct manner was Oacenth, coronal and grand mage of Jhyrennstar. Khelben's sending felt reverent and totally in awe of whom he spoke. At last, Arun's Son. You Are welcome among us, Tsarra Autumnfire, and we Honor you as Our hands. Tsarra bowed to them, but asked, Your hands? I don't understand. You have borne three souls in part and thrived. The laughing elf woman appeared before her as if a reflection on a still pool. Tsarra liked her face with its deep dimples and broad smile. The image scattered, only to be replaced by another, as if a breeze blew through the sharn and disturbed its surface. The male's voice matched the seriousness of his tone. Greater still is your burden to come.

Know you are of our blood, thin though it may be. The bald woman's visage shimmered into Tsarra's sight, and she leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks. So open and closed all at once. She knows and ignores both heart and head. Half an elf, half a woman, but always stronger than you believe yourself, like so many. Your strength shall carry us all this day. You only need unlearn your limitations. And here I thought Khelben was cryptic, Tsarra mused to herself. I heard that. Khelben's voice whispered from her other side, and it felt like he took her right arm as the bald elf woman had taken up her left.

There is no difference here between thought and voice, Tsarra. Now, for all our sakes, listen to them. Hear them. Tsarra felt her neck get hot, which it always did when her temper rose. I'm willing to play my part, but someone had better ask soon, rather than assume I'm able and willing to do what you need me to. Good. The gravel-voiced elf became the bearer on her left. Stop tamping down emotions. Emotions are the heart of magic. We should not have to tell a sorcerer that. His face shimmered into the rounder-faced woman who looked up into her eyes and asked, Autumnfire, what would you know? The answers are within you and all of us. Let them in, rather than fight. We awaken to individuality for the first time in millennia. We need ask of you no more than you ask of us, for we are all one. Do not fight this as you do your heart.

Let us in, and we shall all understand. Hamra is right, Tsarra. I'll be here to help you, if you need me. Khelben's voice reassured her and grounded her. Tsarra's heart felt like it was bursting and she seemed to be breathing very fitfully, but she realized it was simply fear.

They are magic too, in their own ways, but rarely for the good. Fear is ignorance and anger. Unlike most half-breeds, you do not fear one side or the other. You are whole, for you were not raised by fear but love. Humandelf. No division. Tsarra remembered both her parents repeatedly telling her, "You are not a half-anything. You're our daughter, you're whole, you're loved, and that's all you ever need to know." She smiled and relaxed as he sent, Learn what we understand…

Tsarra knew the gravel voice was T'karon, Cor'Selu'-Taar'Miyeritar.

The awareness came to her like an awakening. Despite his gruff exterior and voice, T'karon had a kind heart. She understood his simplest pleasure was walking barefoot in dew-covered grass. She found herself remembering things that were dust five thousand years before her grandfathers were born. Her eyes welled with tears as she watched the olive-dark stormclouds sting and sear the Syavaeor Fields. She saw the fires choke and sunder the shimmering citadel of Kraanfhaor. She screamed as she felt the sting of the acid rains falling on her-his-her-his skin, and she howled as the whirlwinds shredded stone, wood, and flesh. She felt the fall of cities and armies and fell to her knees beneath the weight of all that tragedy. She sobbed over the corpses of loved ones and beat her breast in memoriam of those fallen at Myth Akherynnar and shaved her head bald to mourn imprisoned far from home and among her enemies… Too Much! Khelben's voice shattered through a thousand memories and feelings to reach her. Grand Mages T'karon, Hamra, and Alunor, Stop! Khelben's voice fell away again, as Tsarra was caught once more in the undertow of wave upon wave of memory, emotion, and more power than she'd ever known. She smelled the rewaran blooms beneath a full moon, when Chearel finally proposed, the scent of a healing draught, the sandalwood-and-sawdust scent of his love's hair, the smell of burnt air in a spellduel…

She felt the hot embrace of lovers, the cool stone and the smell of dust and metal as it shaped by his will, the merry drumbeat of her hooves beneath her at full gallop, chasing after Karnoth in the Courting Herd… More than a thousand minds pressed upon her, but Tsarra focused on one thing she knew very well-Khelben's voice. This place is nigh-timeless, but to force her to relive a thousand lifetimes to understand is too much. Tsarra had never before heard Khelben plead. Only in his own memories did he defer to anyone's authority. Her senses were awash with hundreds of smells, tastes, touches, and voices, but she clung to his words. Do not sacrifice who she is for what you need! It is within your power to overwhelm her, possess her, and have her act out your will as a puppet. Do so and you do not realize your dreams or those of your protege Oacenth. You only repeat the sins you fled from. Do not become Vyshannti! What scared Tsarra the most was the immediate stillness. No memories, no senses, nothing. She saw the three selu'kiira of the grand mages hovering nearby, the faces and bodies of their bearers hidden from her. She sensed their shame, their anger, and their fears, knowing everything hinged on what happened next. She needed to learn what was expected of her, what they all needed… but to ask them for information was too overwhelming. Tsarra smiled as she realized the solution. Khelben? I need you to help me speak with Danthra. If everyone can focus on her and send her energy, we can guide her visions toward what we need to know. Is that possible? More than possible, and an ingenious solution that had escaped me. Khelben beamed broadly, and the sparkling crowd returned as the mood lightened. Khelben faced her and the three kiira floated down to form a straight line between Tsarra's kiira and Khelben's forehead. Smaller lights glistened off the gems and Tsarra heard the three speaking all around her. Apologies, Autumnfire. We have been of singular mind Longer than an age. We have forgotten that not All minds are ours to use at our will and for our Purposes. Let us make amends and work together As friends, not as subjects. Friendship, too, is a magic and one we needs foster Anew. Let us speak with the Dreamer and see What she sees, and from there, we shall seek The final remnants of our realmthe seeds of our future. The seeds of everyone's future.