Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [27]
"I know," he replied. "But this is more important."
Mari studied his serious face. Kellen had a way of listening to conversations without being noticed. She wondered how much he had heard.
As if he had somehow intercepted her unspoken question, he said, "I heard enough, Mari. I know that my father's shadow magic is… changing."
Morhion peered intently at the boy. "What did you mean about the ghosts, Kellen?"
"I think Talek Talembar and Kera knew what was happening to my father and were trying to warn us."
Mari tried to swallow the cold lump of dread in her throat. "Warn us? Warn us of what?"
Kellen gazed at her with his calm, intelligent eyes.
"My father is becoming a shadowking."
Five
It was the dead of the night. High in his tower, Morhion pored over the time-darkened book lying open on the table before him. He took a pinch of silvery dust from a clay jar and sprinkled it over the yellowed parchment. The faded ink began to glimmer with an unearthly blue light. Quickly, before the spell dissipated, Morhion read the spidery runes written in a long-dead tongue. As the glowing runes dimmed, Morhion sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"Worthless." he murmured in disgust.
In the hours since he had left the Dreaming Dragon, Morhion had researched all he could concerning the history of the Shadowking, hoping to find something that might refute Kellen's terrible conclusion. So far he had found nothing.
In a silver dish, Morhion burned an incense of mint, hyacinth, and sage. He breathed in the fragrant smoke-it would help keep him alert-and turned back to the book. It was a copy of an ancient tome, called Mal'eb'dala in the lost language Talfir; this translated into common-speak as The Book of the Shadows. The original book had been destroyed in a battle between two powerful mages an eon ago. This volume was an old replica. It contained passages that had been miscopied in or entirely omitted from the more recent copy in which Morhion had first read about the myth of the Shadowking. The book Morhion now held had been stolen by the Zhentarim warrior Ravendas from the library in Elversult when she began her search for the Shadowking's crypt. Morhion had discovered it in the High Tower after Ravendas was defeated by the Fellowship.
Summoning the discipline for which mages were renowned, he bent again over the timeworn text. After a moment of painful effort, he swore softly. His weary eyes would no longer focus on the intricate runes. He knew he should shut the book for the night. It was all too easy to miss a crucial passage when exhausted, and he had hundreds and hundreds of pages yet to peruse.
"But I must learn what is happening to you, Caledan," he whispered fiercely.
He stood and paced around the table, pondering the problem. Unfortunately, there was no magic he knew that could compel a book to read itself. If only there were someone else who could read the words to him…
Suddenly he knew the answer. With the ashes left from the incense, he traced an intricate pattern on the mahogany table. In the center of the pattern he placed a beeswax candle, lighting this with a minor cantrip. Lastly, he picked up a bronze hand-bell and rang it three times with a small mallet.
"Maharanzu kai Umaruk!" he intoned in the language of magic. "Come to me, Small One!"
The candle flared brightly, as if touched by some otherworldly wind, and purple magic sparked around the magical symbol drawn on the table. There was a great cracking sound, like a clap of thunder, and a dark rift opened in the air above the candle-a tear in the very fabric of the universe. A small, gray shape tumbled out. As quickly as it had opened, the rift mended itself.
"Youch! That's hot!" the little creature shouted, barely avoiding the candle flame as it fell to the table with a plop!
Morhion watched with guarded amusement as the small being picked itself up and dusted itself off. It was shaped vaguely like a man but stood no higher