Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [173]
"Are you-my father?" Shandril asked softly.
Gorstag chuckled.
"No, lass. No, though we were good friends, Damm and I, and often held each other by the campfire.
Your father was Garthond. A sorcerer he was, by the time he died, Garthond Snessair. I never knew where he was born either, but in his youth, he became apprentice to the mage Jhavanter of Highmoon."
"A moment, if you will," Lureene said gently. "This grows confusing. Let me go to the kitchen. Gorstag, pour ale, and tell your story as a story. If you ask question upon question, Shan, it grows as tangled as a ball of wool.
Shandril nodded. "You have told me the two things I wanted most to know. Unfold the rest as you see best, and I'll try not to break in. By the gods, master, why did you not tell me all of this before? Years I've wondered and worried and dreamed. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Easy, lass. And I am not your 'master.' You are your own master, now." Gorstag was solemn. "There were good reasons. Folk were looking for you, even then, and asking me where you came from. I never wanted to tell you a lie, girl, not since I first brought you here. Oh, you had wise eyes from the first. I could not say false to you. I knew that these same prying folk asked you and the other girls questions when I was not about. If you knew the truth, they'd have tricked or drawn it out of you.
"So I said nothing of it to you, and let the rumors of my fathering you pass unchallenged, and waited for you to be old enough to tell. You are that, now, and past time. I'm sorry you had to run away to find your adventure. The fault was mine, not to have seen your need sooner, and made you happier."
"No, Gorstag;' Shandril said. "I've had nothing but good from you, as the gods witness all, and I blame you not. But tell me the tale of my parents, please.
I've waited many a year for such news."
"Aye. Well, then. Enough of dates, and all. We can puzzle that out later. Here's the backbone of the tale.
Garthond, your father, was an apprentice of the mage Jhavanter.
"Jhavanter, and Garthond with him, fought several times against the Cult of the Dragon in Sembia hereabouts. Jhavanter held an old tower on the eastern flanks of the Thunder Peaks, which he called the Tower Tranquil. Garthond dwelt there with Jhavanter until mages of the cult destroyed Jhavanter in a fight. After that, Garthond continued his studies-and his feud with the cult.
"At every turn he would work against them, destroy their lesser mages, and terrorize any among them not protected by art. He grew in power, Garthond did, and survived many attempts on his life by the cult.
Eventually he rescued the incantatrix Dammasae from cult captivity-they had her drugged, bound, and gagged, in a caravan heading to one of their strongholds.
"Dammasae had adventured with me and others before this. She had become known for a natural power she had-a power she wanted to develop, by practice and experiment. She could absorb spells and use their force of art as raw energy, held within her.
She could use her power to heal, or to harm in the form of fiery blasts. The cult took her to learn the secrets of spellfire for their own use, or at least control her use of it to further their own schemes. No doubt, if they seek you now, it is for the same reasons."
"That," Shandril agreed softly, "or my destruction.
But please, Gorstag, say on!" To know her life at last!
Her eyes were moist as Narm put his arms around her shoulders comfortingly.
Gorstag took down his axe from behind the bar and lowered himself into a chair facing hers, laying the axe near at hand on a table beside him. He turned his chair so as to better see the front door. Outside, moon-dappled mist drifted past the windows.
"Well," the innkeeper continued, "Garthond rescued Dammasae and protected her and worked magic with her… and they came to love each other. They