Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [65]
Shar shuddered; it must be reading her mind. Oh. A goddess. Of course it could. She could. Shar shook herself, smiled, and stepped forward. "Why didn't you say so?" she asked almost petulantly, as she laid her hands on the cold, crumbling lid and shifted it aside.
Stone grated, and Shar peered cautiously into the darkness within, but the wisp flashed across the chamber to hang where she needed light. The coffin held heaped dust and a wild-weave of cobwebs, but no body that she could see. A scabbarded blade lay in front of her, shrouded in dusty gray webs. Without hesitation she reached in and took it.
A cold tingling ran up her arm, and fear awoke to accompany it. What if the blade turned her into some sort of monster or visited a curse on her? What if- Enough, she told herself firmly, stowing the blade under her arm to free her hands for replacing the lid.
The wisp seemed to bob approvingly again, but as she turned toward the stairs, it flashed through the air to block her path. "Draw the blade," it told her.
Shar nodded and held the scabbard out horizontally before her, drawing the sword slowly. It was a magnificent, gleaming long sword, curved more than was the fashion in the Dragonreach lands. The hilt, grip, and blade seemed to be all of one piece, polished mirror bright and glossy smooth. As it came free of the scabbard, the sword awakened with its own blue radiance, a light that grew and grew until it blazed.
"This is yours to bear, Lady Knight," the wisp told her. Shar turned it slowly, feeling its weight, and replied feelingly, "An honor."
"Indeed." The wisp sounded a little amused. "You may not always feel so. You hold a weapon against the Malaugrym. Return to your camp, and in the morning go down to the bridge that Itharr mistrusted so. There draw this blade, and it will show you a gate that will transport you to the plane of shadows where the Malaugrym dwell. When drawn, this sword will show you all gates nearby, and work them for you if you will it so. Take your companions and go and slay Malaugrym for me."
Shar took a pace away from the wisp to gain room, and swung the blade experimentally. It hummed as it cut the air, and a delighted smile came to her face. What a magnificent weapon! It matched her as if made for her, and its rippling weight made her feel like a dashing young hero, the excited girl she'd once been when she first sought adventure, long before she'd ever seen the endless Underdark… or drow.
Shar laughed, her unbound hair swirling about her as she leapt lightly around one corner of the tomb, fencing with an imaginary foe. The blade felt alive in her hands. Yes! With this, she could rule the world!
At swordplay, at least. She turned to look at the will o' wisp, and asked, "Will I see you again?"
"No," came the flat reply, and to Shar's ears it sounded sad. But when the voice came again, it was calm. "No mortal shall ever see this aspect of me again in Faerun. It is a fading thing I inherited, a shell of ghosts and shadows. I cannot wear it well."
The wisp drifted toward the stairs. "Go now, Sharantyr. Make us all proud of thee."
As she went up into the glade and saw the white glimmering ring that must be the gate to take her home, Shar thought she heard a familiar old voice, a mere whisper behind her. "Well said. Very well said. Ye'll do fine."
Elminster? She was still frowning in excited puzzlement when she came out into the moonlight of Daggerdale and found Sylune waiting for her.
* * * * *
Silverymoon, Kythorn 18
Milhvar's spell tapped into existing gates-or so the sinister, smiling Shadowmaster had told them. Huerbara didn't trust him one whit, but she had no choice but to place herself in his hands, and watch him like a hungry hawk for any sign of treachery.
It would come. Oh, it would come.
Hopefully not on this foray… probably not. The cold truth was that the three of them weren't important enough to be rivals whom the Shadowmaster might want to eliminate. But enough speculation.
Milhvar's whirling