Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [82]
It seemed eminently clear to him that the unique spirit-magic of Rashemen had faltered. That was the only explanation for this victory. If he could discover the source of this new weakness and find a way to exploit it, the conquest of Rashemen and the destruction of her much-hated witches would finally be within Thay's grasp. This particular watchtower was said to be a treasure trove of magic and lorebooks. Merdrith had not been disappointed, and he had left the tower confident that he would find the answers he sought.
His booty had included a witch's staff, this one a wish-staff fashioned from ebony and elaborately carved. With it he had secured one of the most powerful and well-guarded hiding places in all of Rashemen, a place filled with its own treasures and secrets. By now he should have been sitting in council with the greatest of Thay's wizards.
Then came two unforeseen complications: a band of drow thieves and an interfering Rashemi warrior. The drow had come upon Merdrith's hiding place-a legendary magical hut-when he was out walking the forest in search of talkative ghosts. The dark elves had done battle with Merdrith's gnoll warriors, the busybody Rashemi, and the hut itself. He had returned from his forest ramble in time to see the last flurry of battle as the berserker warrior was encased in an icy shroud. The Rashemi had escaped his prison, foolishly following the drow through a magical portal. The wounded hut had also disappeared, as it was said to do upon taking any hurt. No one knew where it went on these occasions, but according to the lore it would heal itself and return with the next autumn equinox to resume haunting the Rashemaar forests.
With nearly a year to wait, Merdrith found himself bereft of his quest, his magic, and his homeland. If he returned to Thay without the secrets he sought, he would be executed as a traitor and deserter. Lacking a better idea, he fled to the west and took up a hermit's life in the High Forest, a place notorious for the number of portals into the Underdark.
His first attempts to make contact with the drow raiders had proved disastrous. There were in the High Forest small bands of dark elf females, self-righteous priestess-warriors whose goddess apparently held a dubious view of Merdrith's character and motives. He'd slain one of the troublesome black wenches, and in conversing with her spirit he learned of a battle in the subterranean realms of Skullport between a band of drow thieves known as the Dragon's Hoard, and yet another group of drow females.
One of these females was accompanied by a Rashemi warrior, and she was said to hold an artifact known as the Windwalker.
So Merdrith went to Skullport and sought the drow female, the Rashemi, and the band of thieves. The first two were long gone, but the new leader of the Dragon's Hoard readily agreed to form an alliance.
All was going well. Perhaps even a bit too well. The problem, to Merdrith's way of thinking, was in finding ways to delay the capture of Windwalker until its current guardians returned it to Rashemen.
For it was there, and only there, that the amulet could release its full power.
The fishing boat made straight for the shore. Its captain sent out a small skiff and a man to row the passenger ashore. Merdrith gave the oarsman a silver coin for his troubles then obligingly headed northward, walking a careful distance from the lake's edge. As soon as the fishing boat was out of sight, however, he turned into the shadows of the Ashenwood.
He found a small clearing and took a bag of birdseed from his belt. This he sprinkled in a wide circle, all the while singing an old Rashemaar folk song he'd coaxed from the ghost of a slain berserker. They were plentiful, these Rashemaar ghosts, and still full of boasting insults and superstitious chatter. Some of them, however, had inadvertently aided his research.
The rustle of leaves and the creak of bending branches announced the success of Merdrith's summons. He backed into the concealing underbrush and waited.
A Rashemaar