All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [61]
The grotto was a cold cavern of rough rock where waters dripped endlessly among the pale, chill glows of fungi, but at its heart two seats faced each other-seats carved out of the flanks of massive, ancient stalagmites… and these seats each bore a curious graven symbol believed to be the sign of Malaug himself. It was a rune found in few places in the Castle of Shadows, and all of its occurrences were well known in the lore of the House of Malaug-save these two.
There was not much else to see in the bone-white glow but tumbled rock and bones… but there was much to feel, hanging heavy and watchful on all sides.
Even the youngest Shadowmasters had heard tales of locales in Shadowhome where mighty magics slumbered, which only the Shadowmaster High could perceive and wield. This was one of those places.
The young and ambitious Malaugrym Argast and Amdramnar had recently discovered the grotto in separate, private explorations. Both had been guided in their wanderings among the shifting shadows by the writings of Shadowmaster High Melvydur. Dead these thousand years and more, Melvydur mentioned the grotto as the place where the dynasty he founded was conceived-and where he laid to rest the bodies of all his sons who rebelled against him. His writings end when the last son succeeded in destroying Melvydur.
This secret grotto of silent bones and uncaring rock was a gloomy place… but it was a place of power. Ancient magic lay heavy in the air, awaiting the right word or gesture to awaken it. And more than anything else, those of the blood of Malaug hungered after power.
Argast and Amdramnar were rivals, and perhaps the best of the younger generation of Shadowmasters. Certainly they were the most subtle, patient, and polite in their dealings-and so commanded the most respect, not to mention fear, among their elders. Those elders would have been most surprised to see them sharing any place in relative peace.
Indeed, as they sat facing each other, their faces were grim and wary, their fingers very close to hurling slaying spells and wielding powerful and deadly items. Yet they sat, and did not move to rend and slay. Their elders were right to fear them.
"Have we agreement?" Argast asked.
"By my name, we do," Amdramnar replied. "Have we agreement?"
"By my name, we do," Argast responded as they watched the drops of their blood slowly flow together into the vial.
They rose as one, and Argast took the vial and stoppered it, handing it to Amdramnar to place on the seat he'd vacated. What befell one Shadowmaster would now also afflict the other-until the vial was broken by someone using the right spells to prevent grave damage to them both.
"If this agreement is to end, we must both meet here to quench it," Argast intoned, continuing the old ritual both of them had read about, but never witnessed.
"Agreed. When we meet, each of us may bring with him one other of the house-no more, and no other beings," Amdramnar responded.
"Agreed," they affirmed together, and walked away from the heart of the grotto, to where the cloaking shadows slid endlessly by.
"Were it not for so many destroyed," Argast said as their eyes met again, "I should never have agreed to work with you in anything. And yet now I welcome the prospect."
Amdramnar inclined his head. "I, too, hope that trust, even friendship, can grow out of this. Whatever befalls, we must work together to destroy the three beings who dared to strike down so many of our blood. They have done it once, and could well come again… and what if they brought the Great Foe with them this tune, or an army of lesser mages?"
"You befriended them," Argast said, "seeking to learn their ways and secrets. Do you think they will seek to return?"
Amdramnar opened his mouth to reply, then sighed, shrugged, and shook his head. "I know not. Their deeds and words did not always strike a good match together-and they were accompanied by some sort of vigilant sentience of