The Kaladin Chronicles

Chapter Thirteen: Shades in the Shadows

Kaladin yelled out, intermittenly. He hoped his muffled voice would carry to the others -- if they searched for him. The antithief had to admit to himself that it was a very distinct possibility that they would show some wisdom, and stay out of the ettercap's lair.

Then again, I know these guys too well, by now. He yelled, again.

He was beginning to get dizzy, as he spun around slowly. The giant spiders, their torsos the size of Kaladin's, continued to explore their latest catch. He could feel one of them, hung from the webbing around his feet; that spider worried Kaladin. It merely waited. The other spiders would prod him in his shadow form, or bite him, but would leave after a bit. The one hanging from Kaladin's feet simply waited.

Kaladin pricked his ears. He felt a heavy vibration on the webbing, and then a distinctive elven voice say, "Eww." Learellian!

There was a flash of light from above the floor of webbing, and Kaladin moved his shadow eyes about, trying to see what was going on. A moment later, some of the pressure left the floor-webbing, and after that, all the spiders left. Save one.

The one on Kaladin's feet slowly edged its eight feet further up the antithief's caccooned shadow form, and tensed.

Up above the antithief, Learellian said, "Don't move, Kaladin. I'm levitating, up above you, and using Nightfire to cut through bits of the webbing."

Kaladin opened his mouth to shout a warning, and the giant spider leapt. Up above Kaladin, the webbing had been torn enough to let gravity begin pulling the scribe down, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed. Kal suddenly wondered how far down the floor was.

Learellian let out a yelp, and Kaladin could hear Nightfire slicing through the air, but not connecting with anything. The antithief moved down, as chaos erupted above him.

He tried to free his arms, a limb -- anything -- from the webbing trap he was in, but could not. He also heard Kander chanting, and the sorceror in Kaladin recognized the spell. An apprentice's cantrip, but one that would lend strength to the strands of webbing holding Kaladin's caccoon to the webbing floor.

Bits of the floor suddenly gave way, and Kaladin fell; the enhanced webbing holding him up bounced the antithief in midair, and then slowly began to give way, again.

What's happening?

There was a yelp from Tambre, the sound absorbed by the web coating all the walls of the tunnels and caverns within the ettercap's lair. And then the spider.

Kaladin felt the spider feel him up, its legs making sure he was where its eyes said he was. The spider began to spin Kaladin, coating him in fresh webbing. The spider then grasped the supporting strands holding Kaladin's caccoon with its rear legs, and moved, crawling along the webs on the ceiling.

Peering through the few rents in the caccoon holding him, Kaladin saw the Company of the White Wolves. Nightshade was apparently controlling the spider, concentrating on it. Kaladin wondered for a brief instant whether the drow priestess was using a spell from Selune, or an innate talent of the Lloth-worshipping drow.

Below the antithief, in the middle of the cavern, down where the trap had been, was a ragged hole in the webbing of the floor. The spider paused for a brief moment, and Kaladin looked down; the hole in the webbing showed the anithief more of the giant spiders, peering up at him.

Nightshade commanded the giant spider to release Kaladin, and then the priestess ordered the arachnid down into the ragged hole in the webbed floor, to attack the other giant spiders.

Learellian, his face pale and sweaty, helped release Kaladin from the caccoon. Kaladin's quick glance showed him what had happened.

The ettercap had attacked the party from behind -- but Tambre had been on rear guard. Though she had a bite wound, Khazad felt there was no poison in the wound. The ettercap lay dead, amidst huge rents and torn webs, from where Khazad's axe, and Tambre's swords, had swung.

Learellian asked Kaladin in a shaky voice, "You all right?"

Kaladin, still shadowed, knew he was little more than a pair of eyes in the darkness, as Kander held his glowing shortsword up for light. Kaladin asked the bladesing, "I'm fine. Are you?"

A fresh poultice was tied to Learellian's leg, and bits and strands of webbing were all over his boots and breeches. The bladesinger said, "Spider attacked me. I'll be fine."

Kaladin turned, and looked down the hole in the webbing. Nightshade's controlled, giant spider, had killed one of its kin, but then had fallen to another. The drow priestess said, "I've cast a spell that keeps the spiders from coming up here, Kaladin."

Kal nodded, as Tambre joined him, looking down the hole. She said, "We're not going down that way."

The party had ropes tied around them, and Learellian was strangely floating in midair, one rope tied about his waist. Kaladin asked him, "New spell?"

The bladesinger nodded, his face thrown into shadows as Kander Ironhull moved his lit shortsword, moving back down the passage.

The White Wolves moved down the left passage, the one Kaladin had not gone through. No other spiders troubled the group, and Nightshade surmised that the death of the ettercap had released the other spiders that were bound to it. Again, Kaladin wondered what spider powers or abilities the drow priestess might have -- but never for a moment did he question her morality.

Kaladin's loyalty was too great, and his insight into his fellow White Wolves too deep.

The ettercap had worn a tattered surcoat with an 'HC' over the left breast, and the group surmised it to be from Hillscheer, the brewery and distillery. The Wolves moved carefully, quietly -- with Kaladin checking for traps as they went. He found a great many, but the strands were cut to ribbons so very easily by Nightfire and Tambre's blades.

They continued down, ignoring many side passages. Nightshade used a special spell, enabling her to track and find garments similar to, or identical to, the one the ettercap had worn. The spell bade her continue down, into the depths of the ettercap's lair.

At the very bottom, the group found solid rock. The webs and strands of it were sparse, and only enough to cover the hole down which the White Wolves had gone, as well as cover the ceiling.

Three man-sized caccoons slowly spun in the light from Kander's sword.

The first one was cut open by Tambre's blades, and a male drow fell out. He was whole, and in tact, but he there was no pulse.

Nightshade's gray eyes flickered in the dim light, and she said, "Likely, the ettercap did not wish to risk the wrath of Lloth, the Spider Queen."

Khazad nodded. "Aye. Likely."

The dead drow was dressed in leather armor that bore the stamp of the Spider Queen upon it. There dark-skinned elf also had a holy symbol to Lloth, which Nightshade promptly smashed with her mace. Khazad and Tambre continued to rummage through the drow's belongings, as Kaladin and Learellian opened up the next caccoon.

Kaladin's feet shifted under him, and the thigh-bone he had been standing on broke in half. The bone splinters passed into the nether-realms of the shadow plane, as Kaladin changed his footing. The room was littered with bones, and with smaller caccoons of various types.

The second large caccoon yielded a human male. He wore a red tabard with an HC over the left breast. Surprisingly, he was breathing. Unconscious, but breathing.

The third caccoon, slightly smaller than the others, yielded the limp form of a halfling. The small humanoid was bare to the waist, his furry chest pale in the dim light. Khazad felt for a pulse, and said, "Alive."

The dwarf patted the little halfling on the cheek, and the downy-bearded halfling's mouth fell open. A small spider crawled out of the dry mouth, over cracked lips, and onto the floor. Learellian ground the spider beneath his boot hill, as Nightshade gently roused the halfling with a spell from one of her scrolls.

The small figure's eyes opened, and he asked dryly, "Huh -- hello?" He closed his mouth, running his tongue over his lips, trying to wet them.

Kaladin was unable to resist himself, taking a devilish pleasure in leaning over the halfling. He said, "Hi," and his voice echoed from the deeps of the shadow planes.

The halfling started, staring into the eyes of a shadow, and then passed out.

Khazad gave Kaladin a dirty look, and said to the others, "He'll be all right. Just dehydrated."

Learellian shouldered the unconcious human from Hillscheer, and Tambre carried the halfling, despite her wounds. Khazad tied a rope around the dead drow, whom had evidently been a priest, and simply drug the body with him. Together, they wound their way back through the webbed tunnels, and to the surface.

Kaladin let the shadowcloak's powers fall around him, and the cloth rustled in the sunlight as he climbed out of the hole.

He turned to take the halfling from Tambre, as she came out. The wolf pups had stayed up in the clearing, and sniffed eagerly at the human, the halfling, and the drow that were brought up out of the ettercap's lair.

Kaladin pulled his wand from his belt, and glanced at Learellian. "Burn it?"

Learellian shook his head. "No. The webbing'll burn, but there's likely another hole, out of there; it could catch the forest on fire."

The antithief nodded, and put the wand up. "We can't just leave this hole open, though. Any way to collapse it?"

Khazad, puzzling over a vial of purple liquid that the drow had been carrying, glanced at the upturned wagon in the clearing. "Whot about that?"

The wagon was still smoking, but not burning. Learellian and Kaladin exchanged a glance, shrugged, and then joined with Khazad and Tambre in muscling the large contraption over the hole. Though charred and holed by the smoke and the ettercap, the wagon was whole, and likely to keep the spiders from leaving that particular entrance from the caverns and tunnels below.

Kander, examining the arrows that had been in the drow's quiver, exclaimed, "Wow! Adamantium arrow heads!" The sorceror held up one of the arrows, looking at the tip in the sunlight. The fletchings on the arrows were a strange, purple feather Kaladin had never seen before.

Khazad growled, and hefted Shieldcrusher high over his head. Kander's jaw dropped, and he dropped the arrow as well -- Khazad's blow just missed the mage's hands, and cleaved through every one of the arrows' shafts. There was a flash of white light, and the shafts bled a slimy ooze.

The crusader said to Kander, "Arrows o dwarf-slayin." He spit upon the ground, and then knelt, praying to Clangeddin Silverbeard.

Kander looked at his hands, and then at Khazad, and hastily put his ink-stained hands in his pockets.

Kaladin gathered up the adamantium arrow heads, and examined them in the light. They were a bright silver along the razor-sharp edges of the heads, but the rest of the metal was a dry gray, like platinum and silver tarnish all rolled into one.

The halfling had roused, again, and was gibbering about the horrors he had seen. Tambre held the small man, arms wrapped around him in a motherly fashion, and comforted him. The halfling's tears cut tracks of mud through his dirt-streaked face, and he slowly let the terror be washed away in those tears.

The human had also roused, and he was looking on his halfling companion with pity and compassion. "What happened?" he asked of Learellian, who was supporting him and a sip of the waterskin.

Learellian said quietly, "An ettercap had captured the two of you. It held you suspended, caccooned, down in its lair."

The man nodded glumly. "Aye. I remember, now." He turned to ask Learellian, "Is it dead?"

The bladesinger nodded at Tambre and the halfling, and said, "She killed it."

"Good."

Nightshade had the others move the wagon aside just far enought so slip the drow body down into the depths of the ettercap's lair, and then push the wagon back into place. That done, the party left the clearing, moving back towards their camp at a slow, easy pace.

The man named himself as Garion Urlsford, and his halfling companion as Dell Strongstout. Garion and Dell were both weak with hunger and dehydration, and it was agreed that they would not go back to Hillscheer alone. However, the visions, and Destiny, forced the White Wolves to go on to Golcanda. Arameth, back in Hillscheer, had said that the mayor of Golconda was a friend of his, and so would likely take care of the two; in this, Garion and Dell agreed.

Kaladin eavesdropped on Khazad and the two weary travellers, as they travelled west, towards the rising mountains. It turned out that Strongstout was a Stout, a form of halfling that was most often associated with dwarves. The Stouts often formed alliances with the dwarven communities that were near their villages, and even engaged in mining and metalsmithing to some extent; of all the halflings, only the Stouts did so.

When Khazad asked Dell if he felt out of place, the halfling responded that his place was in Hillscheer. The halfling was barely an inch over three feet tall, but he was one of the smiths that worked at Hillscheer, and took great pride in working with Red Eye and Arameth, as well as the other workers of the brewery and distillery.

The party rode on, as the sun moved into their eyes. They were still riding, when the sun set behind the mountains. Garion and Dell had fallen asleep in their saddles, riding asleep as only men long used to horses could.

Though still warm, the winds picked up, blowing steadily over the party. As they wound up the road onto a plateau, the wind also became drier, blowing grit and dust into their eyes and every fold of their clothing.

The going became slower, after that, as Kander rode ahead of the others, using his lit sword to guide them and the horses in the darkness. The moon was still moving into first quarter, and provided minimal light in the windy night.

Perhaps half the night had gone by, when they ascended onto the plateau at the base of the mountains. Bits of brighter rock outcroppings could be seen of the mountains in the midnight gloom, but for the most part, the mountains were an invisible Prescence.

At the base of the nearest mountain, sat a squat fortress that was unlighted. One tower had crumbled, and Kaladin was under the impression that the castle had been abandoned long ago. At the base of the fortress, lay dozens of small, one-story homes and smithies. Lights flickered in several, and the smithy and foundary were running even in the dead of the night. As well, a number of figures, dwarven-sized, moved through the darkness or were illuminated for a few moments by Kander's sword.

Glancing at Khazad, Kaladin suspected that the below-ground dwarven races slept when they felt like it, and never by any sign of light or night.

There was one two-story structure closer to the road, and Khazad pointed to it. His voice just raised over the quickly moving wind and dust, the dwarf said, "The Strong Arm. We kin stay there, for tonight."

A figure approached from the gloom of midnight, and stepped into the light from Kander's shortsword. The dwarf was of average height for his people, being a bit under five feet tall. His red beard was rust-colored from the dust of the plateau, and the wind played with it, sometimes fascinated by the long hair, and sometimes uninterested with it. The dwarf wore chain mail, and had a battle-axe secured to his back.

The dwarf looked over the company for a moment, and then he rested his eyes on Khazad. "You're not the same dwarf that came through here, two months ago."

Khazad nodded in return at the other dwarf, and said, "No, I'm not." The crusader said to the rest of the party, "This is Barid Battlebanner; he's a city guard, of sorts, here in Golcanda."

Barid's gaze was strong upon Nightshade, and as the wind toyed with the priestess' hood, the dwarven guard's gaze became fierce.

Khazad moved Chewey in front of Barid, blocking his view of the drow priestess. Faintly, Kaladin heard the crusader say something in dwarven.

Barid nodded, and then motioned for all of them to follow him. "C'mon. Have a drink wit me, at the Strong Arm -- an I'll hear yuir tales." He turned without waiting for a reply, and moved off in the gloom towards the two-story building.

Khazad dismounted, and took the reins of his horse, leading him off after Barid Battlebanner. The others dismounted, as well, taking the opportunity to moan and groan at how stiff and sore they were. Learellian and Nightshade roused the sleeping Garion and Dell, and they dismounted in turn.

The wolf pups quickly scampered off, finding dust-covered mud puddles to play in. Pale found a dead rat near the base of one building as the party walked passed. Pale and Moon entered into a quick tug-of-war match with the rat's body, before the two pups disappeared from sight in the night.

After the horses were placed into stalls around back of the Strong Arm, and taken care of, the White Wolves entered the tavern proper. Garion and Dell immediately requested a room of the younger, black-bearded dwarf that was running the bar; the human and the halfling bid their goodnights, and went to sleep in their rooms.

Barid ordered a mead from the barkeep when he returned, and the rest joined him with their respective drinks -- Old One Eye and mead being the only two options.

Barid glanced at all of the Wolves again, and turned to Khazad. "So what of your quest, crusader?"

Khazad guzzled from his tankard, and then said, "The vision has come full circle." His vision swept the others. "They are a part of it, and now we go to Tibold."

Barid nodded. "A long journey ahead o ye. The passes, they are a full o wyverns -- best not to travel by night."

Khazad said, "Thank ye for that bit o info."

Tambre quickly excused herself, inquiring as to the rooms. From the look the barkeep gave the warrioress, times were hard, and any money was welcome. The warrioress was not thrilled to learn there were only wash basins with which to clean up, but Kander mentioned in an aside that he could 'fix that, later' for her. The sorceror wisely did not advertise his talent.

Khazad launched into an editted description of their exploits, as the barkeep brought out mutton, and potatoes with mutton-gravy. The barkeep sat on a nearby stool, after his services were rendered, and whittled, listening to Khazad tell their tale.

When their tale was done, they asked some general questions about the town, and its people. Nightshade asked about the fortress, and Barid replied that it had been boarded up for centuries. Undead occasionally were thought to come from within it, and Barid's opinion was that there was a hole to the Underdark, somewhere within the castle.

Learellian asked about the road to the west, and how long the journey might take. Battlebanner responded that, barring trouble with the wyverns, the journey through the passes into Tibold would likely take five or six days. Several patrols into the passes had never returned, and Golcanda simply did not have enough men to launch an attack against the wyverns. Times were hard for the small town, and the losses in manpower were making things harder.

Almost in passing, Barid said, "S'too bad the Deep Road's sealed up."

Learellian asked, "The Deep Road?"

When Barid said nothing, exchanging a glance with the barkeep, Khazad supplied the answer.

"The Deep Road was a highway, cut through the mountains. It went straight from here to Tibold -- but it hasn't been used since the days o High Tathar." Khazad took a sip of his mead, and then a guzzle.

Learellian asked, "Why has it been sealed up?"

Barid said, "Undead. An other dangers."

Khazad turned to Learellian, and said, "It'd only be a journey of one an a half days, straight through the mountains. Mebbe a day, if we force-marched it."

Learellian and Barid exchanged a glance, and the guard dwarf said, "The door's warded. Only the mayor of Golcanda, and the king in Tibold, can open the highway."

The bladesinger asked, "Would they be willing to let us try?" He exchanged glances with the others. Time was of the essence. The days had been slipping by, and the Brightshield would soon need to be in Ithael Pass.

Thou must take the shield to Ithael Pass, err two months pass. Present the shield, there, less the darkness oversweep the Realms.

Where before, two months had seemed an eternity away, it was rapidly approaching. Perhaps a few weeks more, and the deadline would be reached.

Khazad said, "Likely the Deep Road has'nae been used in two millennia."

The barkeep spoke up, still whittling on a piece of wood. "Not quite true." He blew some shavings off of the flute he was decorating with typical dwarven patience.

Barid nodded his head in the direction of the barkeep, and said, "This here's young Koruv -- his father's the mayor."

Koruv, his eyes on the blade and the wood in his hands, said, "There was a group, not too long ago, that convinced my father to let them use the Deep Road. He's done it, on occasion -- if the need is just."

There was a moment's silence, and Tambre asked, "What happened to the group that went through?"

Koruv took his pale blue eyes from the wood he was carving, to rest them upon Tambre's face. "They never made it through."

Kaladin's shoulder twitched, from where the ghoul had bitten him back at Bridgestone Keep. The thought of facing undead, be it within the shut down keep, or deep in the Deep Road, did not appeal to him. But duty and loyalty were all he knew; he would go, where the others led.

Learellian asked, "Would your father be willing to let us through?"

Koruv's gaze was long on the bladesinger. "Aye." He absently rubbed some shavings off of the wooden flute, and they drifted lazily to the floor. "Aye, I think he would."

They excused themselves, to get some rest. They were all tired and saddle-sore. Nightshade changed the poultice on Learellian's leg, from where the giant spider had bitten him, and she changed the bloodied bandages on Tambre, from where the ettercap had bitter her.

Kaladin, Kander, and Learellian stayed up for a bit longer, fighting off exhaustion. The openness with which Kaladin and Learellian had exchanged spells in the time they had known one another, fascinated Kander. Most mages and sorcerors jealously and zealously guarded their spellbooks from everyone else, lest the knowledge be used against them, or spread to the wrong hands.

Kander had seen the petty infighting that often went on in the Magicians' Academy, even among the elder teachers and instructors. When he explained this to Kaladin, the antithief promptly handed over his spellbook. Kander, fascinated by the chance to look through another mage's personal spellbook, was suddenly handed Learellian's spellbook, as well.

Reciprocating, Kaladin and Learellian both perused Kander's spellbook, looking for new spells, or new nuances to spells. The flowing script of Kander's hand opened several new vistas for both the bladesinger and the antithief.

Nightshade treated Learellian's leg as the bladesinger perused an interesting spell in Kander's book. Learellian blinked, and glanced down at the drow priestess that was kneeling, wrapping a new poultice onto the giant spider's bite wound.

The priestess glanced up at Learellian and asked a silent question.

Learellian asked, "What is your name?"

Kander and Kaladin paused, glancing up from their studies at the interchange.

After a long pause, Nightshade said, "N'yssara."

Learellian repeated, "N'yssara. Thank you."

Nightshade smiled fondly, and returned to her work.

The antithief returned to inking in his spellbook, tucking the knowledge away. She had given her birthing name, but not her clan name -- given her hatred of the deeds of the drow, Kal understood.

Learellian and Kander returned to their respective spellbooks, exchanging knowledge and magic.

Kaladin, however, turned in to sleep early. His brain had simply refused to work any longer, especially after perusing a spell of Kander's known simply as 'web'. The sorceror had used it against the giant spiders, and almost caught the ettercap within its effects.

As the antithief dozed off to sleep, hearing Learellian and Kander flipping pages and inking quills, Kaladin belatedly realized it might be a mental block against the spell. He could still feel the giant spiders' legs resting all over his body, as his caccoon gently twisted about, hanging from the underside of a web floor.

* * *

Breakfast consisted of goose eggs and goat's milk. Tired as Kaladin was, it was a feast; they had awoken at the crack of dawn, and begun preparations.

Though they had hoped the mayor of Golcanda would let them through the Deep Road, they did not know for certain, until breakfast. The White Wolves had sat, eating their meal in silence, as Koruv explained the situation to his father.

The mayor, and older dwarf named Donovan who's black beard was speckled with white, then asked the Wolves pointed questions. While not revealing of anything more to the mayor, than the party had given to Barid or Koruv, they answered the mayor's questions as truthfully as they could.

The mayor was sharp, and perhaps knew than he let on. He agreed. Donovan would teach Khazad the Word in the elder dwarven tongue that would open the door to the Deep Road, on the other side of the mountains. The Word he would teach Khazad would only work once, and the Word was long -- hundreds of syllables long.

As the mayor led Khazad off to teach him the Word in private, Garion and Dell came down, each looking more rested.

Near mid morning, Donovan led them, as they led their horses, up a set of stairs cut into the mountain itself. The ruins of the road and ramps that had led up from the town to the Deep Road entrance lay along the base of the mountain. In the dusty light of the sun, Golcanda and the castle appeared even more run down than it had at night. The reasons were obvious; all of the dwarves were doing the work of three, and it was barely enough to keep the mines alive.

As the mayor intoned quietly the deep-throated Word to open the gate set in the perfect marble slab, dwarves scurried through the town likes ants disturbed from their mound.

At last, there was a grinding sound, as Donovan stepped back. The gate swung open slowly, revealing a large antechamber with several doors off to either side. A foul, stale air washed over all of them, and then was carried away by the wind. The White Wolves spent several long minutes discussing how they would use their light spells, or torches, within the Deep Road. The mayor drummed his fingers, with his arms folded, waiting for the party to get out of the way of the door.

At last, Donovan simply let the door begin to swing shut, and the decision was hastily made. The door sealed shut behind them, as Kander held his hand high. In his fingers was a gold Tatharian coin, enchanted by Khazad, to shed light.

Kaladin shook his head, muttering about the 'vagaries of magic and mayhem'.

Forsaking curiousity, for speed, the White Wolves led their horses down the ramp out of the twenty-foot wide antechamber. The highway itself was perhaps sixty feet wide, and sixty feet high. The dwarfs of ancient Tathar had carved exquisite basse reliefs upon the walls, and the floors were tiled with care. Or had been.

The underground road-way had fallen into disrepair and ruin, as the White Wolves moved on through the rubble. Piles of ceiling tile stood in places. Bits of the wall, and sometimes large chunks of rubble from the wall, spilled out into the highway. Crevasses gaped from where earthquakes and shifting mountain weights had split the Deep Road.

For the most part, they walked within the light from Kander's coin, at a forced march.

The iron-shod hooves of the horses clicked with each step they made, the clicks echoing from odd piles of rubble, and the walls.

And they continued on.

In some places, they were reduced to single file, as they led their horses amongst the debris in the Deep Road. Near one of those places, Kaladin could dimly hear a water-way of some sort bubbling well below them. There were a number of crevasses nearby, and the humid water seemed to feed a moldy fungi of some sort all over the floors and several rocks.

As they threaded their way over the fungi, and throught he debris, and between the crevessases, Kander paused. Holding his enchanted coin high, he peered off to the right of the party.

Barely lit by the coin was one of a myriad of alcoves that the party had seen in its travel through the ancient dwarven highway. Something about that alcove in particular caught Kander's eyes.

Nightshade led her horse, Havoc, up beside Kander, and looked into the alcove. Handing her reins to the sorceror, she moved forward, cautiously. Learellian went to follow, but she motioned for him to stay where he was.

Kaladin cupped one hand to the sides of his eyes, to block the direct light from the coin. His eyes saw into the shadows of the alcove, and to the door that was there. The door was iron-banded stone, but there were runes all over its surface. The hair on Kaladin's neck crawled, and the antithief felt the utter evil rolling off the door like an invisible mist.

One of the runes was three number threes, linked together in a cascade. The same rune that had burned its way through Argandos' head, before the old sorceror had died. The same rune linked with the masters behind the movements in the south.

Kaladin had little time to think about the connection, as the moldy fungus under his feet began to contort and ripple. The antithief shifted to one side, as all of the horses suddenly began to rear and fight, frantic and scared.

The moldy carpet opened eyes and mouths, peering about in the dim light, its myriad of teeth snapping in the ear. Some of its mouths began to whisper, a cascade of whispers that spoke of nightmares too terrible to imagine. Warts and folds in the hide of the thing that grew gave off puffs of dust and spores, flashes of light that sewed chaos in the mind.

Kaladin fought Stalimor, as the horse reared. A puff of the mustard-colored gas puffed into Kaladin's face, and he sneezed.

Kaladin sneezed, again, and the world had shifted. Learellian's bay horse was in front of him, and Moon looked drugged beside him. Learellian stood beside Kaladin, barely standing on his feet, looking drugged as well.

A piercing scream from Nightshade forced the antithief to spin. The huge mound of the fungus was puffing clouds of dust at Tambre and Khazad, as the horses ran about wildly, looking for some way away from the gibbering monster. Its dozens, perhaps hundreds of mouths, clicked and bit, whispering and wailing. Its eyes focuses here and there on stalks and pseudopods that flowed and ebbed like a contained sea.

Kander wandered blindly, holding his coin aloft as high as he could, but unable to see anything.

The thing had wrapped a gelatinous limb around Khazad's feet, a myriad of teeth biting the dwarf -- who was offering no resistance. Tambre stood as Learellian stood, on the far side of the creature; Swift and Wind hung limply in her hands.

Kaladin drew the wand of fire, searching quickly for Nightshade. He finally spied her boot, sticking out of a fold in the monster's form. She writhed inside its clutches, perhaps suffocating, or perhaps already dead. The antithief conducted a path of fire to rush forward from the wand, burning at the creature's side.

The mouths and eyes tried to pull away from the spot that was being burnt, but several eyes sagged as their fluids poured out, and a number of teeth were burnt black. The monster writhed away from the flame, and the smell of burnt flesh pushed the horses into even more chaotic frenzies.

Kander, tears filled with yellow dust streaming down his face, responded with fire as well. The sorceror's voice was strong enough to carry over the senseless gibbering of the monster. He held his hands forward, his fingers splayed apart, and motes of fire danced between the fingers.

A myriad of the monster's eyes suddenly turned their attention to the sorceror, and just as suddenly tried to move away -- but it was too late.

Like the flame from a dragon's breath, fire surged forward from Kander's fingers, cooking the monster's side. Eyes burst and teeth shattered from the heat, as the thing tried to turn away from the intense heat from two sides.

Tambre leapt through the inferno and the smoke, Swift and Wind protecting her; her blades plunged deep into the heart of the monster. The burning light from Kaladin and Kander lit the gelatinous creature up from within, showing a large lump of organs and tissue at the heart of the thing. Tambre's blades cut it to ribbons.

Kander let up on his spell, as Kaladin put the wand away. Ichor flowed from the thing's innards, and a few sets of teeth chattered, before going still.

Tambre's blades sliced away at the monster, freeing a gasping Nightshade. The drow priestess was alive. Her arms and legs were a welter of bleeding bite marks, and her skin was inflamed from the digestive acids of the creature, but she was alive.

Learellian jerked as though stung, coming out of his stunned state. The bladesinger glanced around, taking the situation in, and rushed towards the wounded Nightshade with Nightfire drawn.

The full Sylvan elf helped pull the drow priestess away from the monster's corpse, as Kaladin fought to round up the horses.

After some few minutes of frantic fighting, the equines were finally coralled between two crevasses and several mounds of debris. Once that was done, Kander splashed his eyes liberally with water from a skin, and then joined the antithief with the others.

Nightshade gasped out to Selune, "Grant me strength, goddess!"

Khazad laid his hands upon the drow priestess' hands, and the flowing of energies began.

Tambre sheathed her swords, and set her hands on her knees, breathing hard. Blood dripped from the warrioress onto the tilework at her feet; Kaladin and Learellian moved to help her. There was a long gash along the faithful of Tempus, and Kal noted that Khazad's battle-axe, lying beside the dwarf, was stained with blood.

Kaladin asked, "You all right?"

Tambre nodded, sinking to her knees with Learellian's and Kaladin's support. The wound was shallow, but a hairsbreadth deeper and she would have bled to death.

Khazad's face was ashen as he turned from Nightshade, and laid his hands upon Tambre. His lips called forth the words of prayer to Clangeddin Silverbeard, and the healing energies began to flow again.

Nightshade sat up, rubbing her hands and her legs. There were pale scars from a great many sets of bite wounds, and her clothes were a shambles.

Kaladin asked her, "You all right?"

The drow priestess smiled wanly, and then spit upon the corpse of the monster. "I am now."

Kaladin asked, "What was that thing?"

Khazad said wearily, "Made from the bodies of dwarves, is what it was. A foul abomination."

Learellian helped Tambre stand up, and asked, "Made?"

The dwarf nodded. "Aye. Made. They're made o the dead, and reanimated; all those bodies locked together -- they go mad. Evil sorcerors an the like use em to guard themselves, or things of value."

Kaladin asked gently, "And they make people fight one another?"

Khazad glanced at Tambre's just-healed wound, and then at Kaladin. The dwarf hung his head, and nodded. "There was nothin I could do."

Tambre moved forward, and hugged the little dwarf tightly. Kissing him on the head, she said, "It's all right. I forgive you."

Khazad nodded glumly, and moved away from the warrioress, towards the monster. He picked up his axe, and split the monster apart, a piece at a time.

Gold coins oozed out of the gelatinous mess, and it occurred to Kaladin that the creature could not pass what it could not digest.

The party dug quickly, wary of the rune-inscribed door, and pulled the creature apart looking for even a single gold coin.

There were several items, some of them even enchanted, within the belly of the beast. The thing that caught Kaladin's attention was a large scepter with several dwarven kings' faces carved into its handle. There were several bands of iron around the scepter, and it was crowned with sparkling of emerald and dioptase flakes.

The scepter radiated power in the same way as the nearby door, and Kaladin put it away in one of the travel packs hoping never to see it again.

The party moved on, more quickly, away from the evil door. As they led their horses quickly back towards the west, and towards Tibold, Kaladin thought.

The three threes, linked together in a cascade, were a common motif in the letters from Vaxall to his minions of the Twisted Rune. Kaladin, and the others, had thought the rune some sort of trademark of Vaxall's. It occurred to Kaladin that the rune might be the mark of more than one individual.

Kaladin shuddered to think whom else could be in league with Vaxall, and quickly put the thinking aside. Instead, the antithief contentrating on marching, and on reaching Tibold alive.

Hours passed, with the steady clop of the horses' hooves and the clap of booted feet the only sounds to be heard.

At last, they reached the end of the Deep Road, some twelve hours after they had started down it. The ramp led up off the wider highway, and up into an antechamber identical to the one on the far side of the Deep Road.

The huge marble door was sealed, and Khazad moved up to it. He began to whisper the ancient Word that mayor Donovan had given him, and the moments passed. The long Word continued, and then ended.

When nothing happened, Kaladin wondered if the dwarf had misremembered the Word.

The gearing mechanism whined as a thousand tiny wheels spun, opening the door outwards.

Kaladin had to fight Stalimor from rushing out with the other horses, into the cool night air. Outside, the party found themselves on a slight terrace. Stone steps winded away on one side of the terrace, but the remains of the road were still there. Unlike in Golcanda, the party could take the easy path, the old road.

They did so, wearily looking around. As they took in the sights of the night sky, the door closed behind them of its own accord, once they were all outside.

Tibold lay not far from them, and Khazad said so that they could all hear, "I make it only another half hour, or so, to the city -- and I know a good place we kin stay. They've even got baths."

The last, obviously aimed at Tambre, caused the tired young warrioress to quicken her pace to the lead.

As they approached the city, which was lit somewhat by the light of the waxing quarter moon, Kaladin took a good look. Tibold was perhaps one of the oldest cities in the south, and had been built to keep out armies. The fortress-city had been carved from the very side of the mountain, its walls and towers and castle, and most of the city buildings, being one piece of stone.

The eastern gate of the city, the one to which the road led, was closed. Since the Deep Road had been closed for two millennia, so too had the eastern gate of Tibold been closed. The White Wolves moved around to another gate, and just for an instant, before the city blocked the view, Kaladin could see through the mountain passes onto the highlands of the nation of Tethyr.

One of the dwarven guards at the gate saluted, and said, "Hail, A'Baruk! You return with friends, crusader!"

Khazad returned the salute. "Eiken. Masok. Clangeddin's might be with ye." He glanced over the White Wolves, taking in their appearance, and then returned to the guards. "Aye, I bring friends. I'll be takin em to the Coiled Naga, before I go to the temple. Is Knight Commander Koras Tulhame in?"

One of the guards rested his halberd against the wall, and then shook his head. "Sorra, crusader. He's outside the city. Will ye be payin yuir respects to Clangeddin at the temple, anyway?"

Khazad nodded. "Aye, that I will. I'll talk more wit ye, later, lads; I need to get this group to the Coiled Naga, before they go off an try an find it themselves."

The guards saluted Khazad once more, and waved the party in through the massive gates, and into Tibold.

Khazad said over his shoulder as he led them over the solid stone pathways, "It's rumored that the woman that runs the Coiled Naga is a powerful wizardress, so dinnae get in trouble with her, eh?"

The hour was perhaps a few hours yet before midnight, and just a few after sunset. Having only the rising of the moon to work with, Kaladin was unsure; the time underground had muddled his internal clock.

Perhaps half of the people Kaladin saw on the streets were human, and the other half dwarven. Humans helped keep the commerce of the city going, and the dwarves were the natives, mining and working the stone and metals of the Kuldin Peaks that their brethren in Golcanda were running short of.

Tibold was the last remnant of the ancient nation of Tathar. The city-state was ruled by a king of the dwarves, though he carried the title of 'duke' amongst the humans of Erlkazar. Erlkazar and the dwarves had an alliance, though to the outside, it appeared as though Tibold was a duchy of King Korrox in Erlkazar.

Khazad led them to a multistory building in the midst of the city, and took them around back to the stables. There, several stablehands helped the tired and bedraggled party unload their packs from the horses, before attending to the animals themselves. Satisfied that the stablehands knew their tasks, the Wolves stumbled into the commons room of the inn.

The Coiled Naga was a high-class inn, with ornate, polished wood work and a comfortable, clean, homey feel to it. There were several other guests in the commons room, including two Sembian merchants in one corner, and several dwarven guards.

Kaladin chuckled at coincidence; one of the two Sembian merchants was the same one that Khazad had spilled ale on, so long ago, in the Roaring Wemic.

The merchant seemed not to recognize Khazad, and after a quick glance at the dusty adventurers, returned to his conversation on wools with his companion.

Khazad bowed, and said, "Dinnae bother gettin me a room, Tambre. I'll stay the night at the temple; I'll see the lot o ye, later, though -- order me a meal."

They nodded in turn to Khazad, as he ambled out of the commons room through the front door, his chain mail clinking with every step.

"Can I help you?" Sitting behind the half-circle bar was an older woman of perhaps fifty or fifty-five, though with the unmistakable air of youth to her. Her graying hair was off set by her sun-darkened skin, and a pair of small spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose. She closed a book she had been reading, and regarded the party with clear blue eyes.

Learellian turned, and said, "Hello. We'd like to stay the night. Do you have any rooms available?"

The woman smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I do. How many rooms do you want?"

Kaladin absently listened as Learellian turned on the charm, taking a seat at the bar with the woman. His attention swept the room, again. His gaze settled on a man in orange and yellow robes in one corner. His dark skin and head wrapped in a yellow turban marked him as a Calimshani.

The man glanced from an open book he was reading, to a small sheet of parchment just under the edge of the book. The man scowled, glanced at the White Wolves, back to the small sheet of parchment, and then pretended to read his book. To Kaladin's eyes, the man looked nervous, but not in a way that implicated the party. At least, he hoped not.

Tambre handed Kaladin a key to his room, as she swept by him with a raw steak for the wolf pups in the stables.

Kaladin and Kander sat together, and waited on the evening meal, as Nightshade, and then Tambre, went upstairs to bathe.

The antithief had heard Learellian and the woman behind the bar talking. Her name was Sheila, and she was the owner of the Coiled Naga. The motif of the coiled naga was common in some of the woodwork, as Kaladin looked around. Learellian continued to sit at the bar, trying to probe and find out how much about magic the woman knew.

Kander asked quietly, "Why are we here?"

Kaladin blinked, and turned his attention to the sorceror. "Beg pardon?"

"Why are we here?" He thanked a serving maid for the beer she brought him, took a long drink, and then set his tankard down.

"As in, here in Tibold?" Kaladin was a bit perplexed.

Ironhull nodded. "You've told me some of your mission, but not why we're here. I figured that Tibold was on our way to Ithael Pass, to where the Brightshield was supposed to go. But we could just as easily have gone down to Five Spears Hold from Dhulnarim, and from there to Ithael Pass."

Kaladin said, "Ah, now I understand." He rubbed his short beard, and nodded to himself. "I wonder at what point I started thinking of you as a White Wolf, and not one of the sorcerors of the academy."

Kander blinked, taking that in. "I'm... honored. I'm truly honored, to be counted one of you."

The antithief said, "In a nut's shell, we're here because Khazad received a vision. Moradin, father of the dwarven gods, told him, 'Seek the key that is broken. In Sehvel-darm is it held'."

Ironhull repeated 'Sehvel-darm' a few times, and then snapped his fingers. "The dwarven name for Tibold!"

Kaladin nodded. "So now we have to find a broken key. But not until I've had a bit to eat."

Kander smiled, and said, "I can relate to that." The sorceror apparently overheard something between Sheila and Learellian, and excused himself to enter their discussion.

Learellian shot the sorceror a venemous glance at interrupting his silky fishing for spells, but the expression rolled off of the naive sorceror. He a Sheila launched into a discussion on some Netherse topic, with Learellian occasionally trying to get a word in edge-wise.

After some time, Ironhull had varied from topic to topic to topic, from the ancient kingdom of Tathar, to Sheila's Halruan upbringing, to a sketch Kander quickly made of the hideous monster in the Deep Road.

Learellian signalled to Kaladin, asking him in gestures to come and get the talkative sorceror, and take him away!

Right about the time Kaladin was about to do so, Tambre and Nightshade came down the stairs together. Every eye in the commons room immediately went to them.

Both of the women had bathed, and traded in their tattered clothes and road gear for the dresses they had purchased far back in Zhentil Keep.

Tambre wore a rich blue and cream dress that fit her very well across the waist, and accentuated her tall, lithe form. Her light, almost bluish skin went well with the dress, and her muscles rippled with the dress, as she moved -- sauntered -- down the stairs. Her white hair was swept back in a braid that lay over one shoulder, and small silver earrings set off the silver sparkle from the obvious dagger in her light blue belt.

Nightshade wore a midnight-blue dress with pure white overtones and a low, low back. A blue-rimmed, white cowl hid her face from view, but her silver hair fell to her dark skin as though it had been kissed into place by the wind. She wore several silver rings on her ebony fingers, which flickered nervously in the hem of her dress. As she turned to look at the drooling, open-mouthed males in the commons room, her diadem shimmered underneath her hood.

The ladies moved to take their seats, and await the dinner they had ordered before bathing.

Kaladin swept his gaze over the room, noting that the Calmishani stared just long enough to prove he was not a man-lover, but he resumed fidgeting nervously, returning to reading a book he was not reading.

Kal politely excused himself from the women, and moved to the bar, where he whispered in Learellian's ear in elven for a moment. "The Calimshani, in the corner; he's nervous about something. And that's making me nervous about something."

Learellian nodded, whispering back in elven, "I've noticed it, too." He noted that Kander was still staring, slack-jawed, at Tambre and Nightshade, and took the opportunity to ask Sheila, "What do you know of the Calimshani gentleman, there in the corner?"

Sheila glanced at the man in question, and then turned her gaze back to Learellian. "He came here several days ago, to meet a gnomish friend of his. Unfortunately, the gnomish friend had already been here several days, waited, and then left. I believe he is a sage of some sort."

Kander snapped out of his trance. "Sage? Wonderful! Do you have any idea what he might be a sage of?"

Sheila shook her head, and Kander frowned. The sorceror then turned, and walked back to the Calmishani man.

Kaladin saw the sorceror ask the man several questions, to which the man shook his head 'no' on all accounts. Disappointed, Kander returned to the table, just as their meal was brought out.

The fair was wonderful, and Kaladin was hungry. He eagerly tore into the meal, inhaling the food with such gusto that at one point he realized everyone was staring at him. He meekly said, "Sorry," and slowed down considerably.

Kander said, "I asked him if he was a sage for hire, but he said he was busy." The sorceror shrugged, and gathered up his plate and his meal. "I'll be up in my room, studying, if anyone wants me."

The sorceror moved towards the stairs, waved his tankard at Sheila, and then went up to his room.

Learellian glanced left and right, and then took his meal over to the bar, where he ate with Sheila, talking with her.

Tambre and Nightshade, apparently aware of the Calmishani's nervousness, vied with one another for his attentions. Tambre was more open, but Nightshade soon fell into the game, enjoying herself.

Tambre stalked back to the table, however, in a huff. She stabbed a cooked carrot as though it were an orc, and muttered, "He thinks I'm a consort! Me!"

Kaladin forcefully surpressed a snicker, almost choking on his meal.

The warrioress of Tempus asked Kaladin with an arched eyebrow, "Is something wrong?"

Kaladin coughed, shaking his head. "No," he croaked, "Nothing wrong." He hid his face in his tankard.

When Kaladin put the tankard down, Khazad came in the front door, and glanced around. He spied the group, and joined Tambre, Nightshade, and Kaladin at their table. The dwarf lay the Brightshield next to his chair, and Shieldcrusher in front of it. Khazad glanced at the ladies, and nodded. "Very attractive lookin lasses, ye are, tonight."

Tambre and Nightshade beamed smiles at him, and the dwarf blushed.

Kaladin fumed. Compliments! I forgot to tell them compliments! He glanced at the Calmishani man in the corner, and blinked.

The dark-skinned man in the flowing orange and yellow robes was staring at the Brightshield in wide-eyed recognition.

Kal groaned, and the two ladies and Khazad followed his gaze.

Khazad asked in a tone that carried much danger, "Can I help you?"

The Calimshani man blinked, as though it took a few seconds for the words to register in his mind. He glanced up at Khazad, and nervously wrung his hands under the table. "Ah, uh... Please, excuse me? I am very sorry?" He picked up his book, and tried to bury his face in it.

Even Learellian went on guard, watching the situation unfold. Sheila and the two dwarven guards kept an eye on things, waiting for all hell to break loose.

Khazad slowly stood up, took Shieldcrusher in one hand, and the Brightshield in the other, and walked towards the Calimshani man. The crusader stopped several feet away from the man, and stared at him.

After a few moments, the man finally put the book down, looking at Khazad's face with a pasty-white look of half-terror on it. He searched for something to say under Khazad's intense gaze, and his eyes rested on the Brightshield. "Where..." He coughed, clearing his throat, and asked, "Where did you find that?"

Khazad said, "It was entrusted to me for safe keeping."

A pause. "Wh -- who entrusted it to you?"

"That's none o your business." The crusader's entire frame seemed ready for battle. "What's your interest in it?"

The man glanced everywhere, his eyes looking for salvation anywhere he could find it. He saw none. "I... I've read of it, before?"

Khazad's voice was deadly earnest. "Where."

"In the... In a history? Of the Eye-Tyrant wars?" He man's eyes flicked back to the Brightshield, and seemed to lock onto it as a drowning man in a harsh sea will grab anything that floats.

The crusader was joined by the other members of the White Wolves. Kaladin stood just behind Khazad, and to one side. To the other side was Tambre, and then Learellian and Nightshade.

Khazad said dangerously, "Perhaps you could tell us a few things about it."

Several other patrons were staring at the scene unfolding, though no one dared to leave. The two guards at their table were slowly edging their weapons into hand, and Sheila looked ready to duck under the bar.

The Calimshani man glanced at the piece of parchment that had been under his book, but the parchment was folded, and Kaladin could not make out what was on it. The man in the orange and yellow robes said quietly, so quietly that only the White Wolves could hear, "It was rumored to be in the hands of someone very powerful?"

Khazad nodded. "This shield was entrusted to me by someone more powerful than any mortal in the Realms."

Perhaps finding some bravery, the Calimshani man said, "In the tomb of Tugren? You would desecrate such?"

Crusader Khazad A'Baruk squinted his eyes. "We opened the tomb with the key, and sealed it back when we left." His words grumbled like stone on stone, as he said, "It was an 'approved' entrance -- approved by the Morning Lord."

The seated, nervous man's eyes went even wider, and for a moment, Kaladin thought he might panic, and do something completely unpredictable. His eyes locked onto Nightshade, and then on Khazad.

Kaladin glanced back, and saw that Kander was standing on the bottom of the stairs. The sorceror received an 'everything fair' nod, and then simply waited. Kal turned back to the Calimshani man.

Khazad said, "Now. I've said a lot. It's your turn to say a lot." His grip on Shieldcrusher was ominously white-knuckled.

The man in the orange and yellow robes sung very softly, so quietly that no one else in the commons room heard, save the White Wolves:

"Ages and eyes reopen; herald the crescent moon.
The legions of earth and silver; grant a mighty boon.
Axes Clash as the ancient armies assemble; herald the reawakened vision.
The Lords of Earth and Knights of Silver; a battle of darkness to quicken.
Terrors fade and portals part; assemble the Tripartite Key.
The Battle of Ithal, and Shield of Bright; lead to victory."

The Calminshani man glanced at all of them, still nervous, but trusting to the fates, and to the prophecy. "It's true, isn't it?" he asked of Khazad.

The dwarf nodded once, sharply.

"I am Reft Alfachim, scholar and sage." He glanced from Khazad to Nightshade, and back. "A crusader of Calngeddin -- a Lord of Earth. A priestess of Selune -- a Knight of Silver."

Kaladin held out a hand to Reft. "Come. Join us at our table."

The scholar blinked, and then smiled. Kaladin led the man to the table where the others had been eating, and they all joined him, including Kander.

The situation in the commons room improved quickly, as Sheila let out a sigh of relief. The dwarven guards at their table, went back to their tankards. And the other guests, slowly at first, and then with more confidence, began to whispers, and then converse.

Khazad said, "I am Khazad A'Baruk. Crusader of Clangeddin Silverbeard." He introduced the other White Wolves in turn; Kaladin was not surprised to hear the crusader call Kander a White Wolf. The others had accepted the sorceror, as well.

Reft seemed pleased, with each introduction. When the last was made, and silence descended, he spoke up. "The scholars at Candlekeep pay well? They hired myself, and my gnomish friend Artifes, to investigate an ancient prophecy?" The sage passed the folded sheet of parchment to Learellian, whom was nearest him.

The Sylvan bladesinger unfold the parchment, and examined it. "It's the prophecy." He glanced at Nightshade, and said, "All of it."

The priestess nodded, and held out her hand for the parchment. Learellian handed it to her, and she examined it in detail. "It is, indeed, a good portion of the prophecy. But I only knew part of it -- the rest... What does it mean, by 'tripartite key'?"

Reft looked crestfalen. "I do not know?" He glanced at Khazad and Nightshade, and said, "You are two of three?" He shrugged. "I do not know?"

Learellian asked, "So where are the 'legions of earth and silver'?"

The Calimshani in the orange and yellow robes said, "It is a fair question?"

Kaladin winced. Though Reft himself seemed a fair man, he had an annoying way of ending everything he said with an uplifted syllable, drawing it into a question.

The sage continued, "After perusing many maps, Artifes and myself found an ancient map? On it, was the 'Pass of Earth and Sky'? We think we know where the Temple of the Blooded Moon is?"

Khazad asked quickly, "Is that where your friend is?"

Reft said, "I can only hope? To travel that way, alone, would be dangerous? I was hoping to find a company to escort me to the temple? And now I find myself..." He blinked. The though so amazed the man that he lost the question in his voice. "I find myself a part of prophecy."

Kaladin could not help himself, and smiled, and then laughed softly. Despite the man's annoying way of speaking, he liked Reft. He was bone-weary, though, and the twelve hours' forced march had not helped. Kaladin yawned. "I think I'm going to go to bed. Too much to think about, and it's been a long day."

Learellian grabbed Kaladin's arm as the antithief stood up, and thumped him back into his seat. He called to Sheila, "Do you mind if we bring a bit of light and music to the commons, this evening? Destiny has smiled upon us, and I feel the need to celebrate!"

The owner of the Coiled Naga seemed quite happy that Learellian and his friends had not decided to tear the place apart, and Reft with it. She smiled softly, and bowed her head, calling, "Sing to your heart's delight."

Learellian proceeded to do just that. He opened with a strong song sung by young men seeking their fortures -- a song of finding one's destiny. Learellian's strong voice was quickly joined by Nightshade's pure contralto, creating a harmony that was spellbinding.

Continuing to sing, Learellian rose from his seat, winked at Sheila, and began to dance, slowly at first, and then with increasing power. The bladesong called to Kaladin, and he shook it off. He glanced at the stairs, half tempted to sneak up to his room and sleep, but sighed.

Several other patrons had joined the song, the guards singing as well.

Reft's expression slowly began to slip back into his normal, nervous one, when Khazad spied the shift of emotions across the human's face.

The crusader said, "Rest yuir mind, scholar an sage. We must rest our spirits. We'll leave, come the mornin, an look for yuir friend, as well as the temple."

Reft smiled, as Tambre danced a tankard into his hand.

Briefly, Kaladin wondered who wielded the more potent magic -- Elminster, the archmage of the Forgotten Realms, or Tambre as she danced.

The sage's smile turned beatific as he took a drink from the tankard, and then hesitantly, almost reverently, touched the Brightshield. Khazad chuckled, and handed the man the shield.

Reft glanced up in surprise, and then set the tankard aside, pulling out a blank sheet of parchment and a piece of charcoal -- he quickly began duplicating the surface of the Brightshield, throwing Khazad into gales of laughter.

Kaladin smiled, and shook his head. As long as he was going to stay awake, he figured he would get drunk. The encounter with the gelatinous monster on the Deep Road, the ettercap's lair, and the dark powers behind the triple threes -- the twisted threes... A twisted rune, that one; three twisted threes.

The antithief shook his head, and signalled a serving girl for two tankards of ale. Sheila, protesting with a smile on her face, joined Learellian on the dance floor. As Kaladin clapped to the beat, he resolved to take Kander down with him.

* * *

Kander groaned, shielding his eyes from the midmorning sun. "Am I dying?"

Kaladin, a bit bleary-eyed from his hangover, cackled. The noise made Kander Ironhull groan all the more. The antithief had to wince, himself, though. He had probably only drunk half as much as the human sorceror, but he realized he weighed a good fifty pounds less, as well.

The horses' iron-shod hooves finally stopped clattering on cobbled stones, and the party rode out of the gate of Tibold. Working closely with Reft, come the morning, they had provisioned as best they could, operating through Sheila.

The proprietoress of the Coiled Naga had sent runners and servants into the city's suppliers for whatever the White Wolves and Reft felt they would need, and the party had made other preparations. Kander had been far from memorizing his spells that morning, but Learellian seemed his usual, reserved self -- and had made use of the sorceror's spellbook.

Kaladin had failed to learn anything he felt he could use from the sorceror, but he had not let it daunt him. The party picked up the pace at Tambre's urging. The warrioress, once more clad in leathers and her blurring armor, was grim. The celebrating behind them, she watched the road with the eyes of a seasoned veteran.

Reft's plan was for the White Wolves to ride to Borthune's Walk, a trail that meandered up the highlands towards Saradush. In the Tethyrian city of Saradush, the party would leave the horses behind, and hike up through the Earth-Sky Pass, and then into the valley that would hold the Temple of the Blooded Moon. At least, that was the plan.

Kaladin was well aware that few plans survived their first engagements with reality unscathed. Where did I hear that...? Seemed like one of those Red Knights said it, when I worked for him as a scribe. Max? Wax? Kaladin cursed his memory; though perfect at catching images, it was terrible with names at times.

The next two days passed in a blur, as they moved further up into the green, green highlands. As they travelled, they learned more and more about Kander and Reft. Reft worked for Candle Keep gathering obscure texts and information. Candle Keep was where the prophecies of Alaundo were kept, and the stout fortress boasted impressive protection of those prophecies. As well, the Keep was a place of learning and of obscure texts for much of the Realms. Entry, Reft told them, required a valuable tome or parchment of some sort as a donation to the Keep. Once inside people could stay as long as they wished, but once they left, they required another tome to enter.

The idea of staying within the walls of Candle Keep intrigued Kaladin. But he shook the thought away. So long as the Shadow Thieves hunted for him, staying in any one place for long was likely to get him killed. His near-miss in Dhulnarim had been too near for his comfort.

A sad thought stole over the antithief. He realized that, as soon as the Brightshield was delivered safely, and the prophecy fulfilled, he would leave the White Wolves.

He glanced up at Tambre, as they rode hard through the day's light. He would have to leave them all -- else the Shadow Thieves come for Kaladin, only to kill the White Wolves. Caccooned as he had been, he had realized that he was too bold, with friends nearby to help him. He was too dangerous -- a lodestone for trouble. He would have to leave.

Those thoughts weighed heavily on the antithief, but he could not escape the reasoning behind it. Until he found a way free of the Shadow Thieves, he was a hunted man.

The White Wolves, and Reft, moved off of the main road onto Borthune's Walk, and travelled along it for a full day. Towards sunset, Reft said that if they pushed on for several more hours, they would come to Mount Nobles, the ancestral castle of the Knights of the Silver Chalice. The Knights were sworn to a newer deity to the Realms, Seeamorph -- a goddess of chivalry, among other things.

The party agreed to try for Mount Nobles, especially after Reft told them that the queen of Tethyr was a follower of Seeamorph, and had once ruled as nobility over the area of the castle.

They travelled on, across many a small brook, and through dozens of rolling farms. The land was beautiful, even as twilight claimed it. When night stole upon the land at last, Kander brought forth his enchanted coin, and shone the way for them as they led their horses.

Around a bend in the road, the castle finally came into the view. The waxing moon made it all shadows, and clean white stone. The castle sat atop a small hillock, and was surrounded by a wide moat and stout, strong walls.

They crossed the bridge over the moat, their horses' hooves clattering on the stone, until they came to the closed portcullis. A guard in breeches, riding boots, and a polished breast plate came forward.

His face was all harsh angles in the moonlight, but he caught a contented sigh from Tambre that raised pangs of jealousy within the antithief.

The man drew his saber in salute, and said, "Well met, travellers."

Learellian dismounted, as did the others. "We are travellers, on our way to the mountains. We hoped to find rooms and food within your walls, and we're willing to pay."

Kaladin decided that the man's demeanor was too polished for the average guard, and decided it was a nobleman of some sort pulling guard duty. The man responded with a perfect, clipped accent, "Where is it you hail from?"

Learellian said patiently, "Dhulnarim, Erlkazar."

The noble nodded. "Ah. You are a long way from home. And very brave, to cross the Kuldin Peaks with all the wyverns about." He peered at Learellian for a moment, and asked, "Are you, per chance, of sol dekune blood, Sylvan elf?"

Learellian started. "Yes. Yes I am. I am Learellian Sythvandyr."

"I thought the Sythvandyr tribe was wiped out." The man frowned, trying to make light of the situation.

Learellian said, "They were wiped out, save for myself. I was taken in, by a bladesinger."

The noble nodded. "Ah. I understand. I am Sir Tarian, Knight of the Silver Chalice." He peered intently at Nightshade. "Before I can let you in, I must know of your intentions, drow."

Learellian glanced back, and then nodded to himself. "She has proven herself, and is a priestess of the moon goddess, Selune."

Kander piped up, "Have you heard about another drow, who usually operates further north? His name's Drizzt Do'Urden, and..."

The noble waved his hand to signal he heard. "I've heard, I've heard. Very well." He nodded curtly at Nightshade, and then signalled the guards atop the battlements. "Open the gates! We have visitors!"

The iron portcullis raised, and Sir Tarian led the White Wolves into the courtyard, beyond. The center of the courtyard was dominated by a statue kaladin assumed to be of Seeamorph. The statue was in the middle of a small fountain, and jets of water rose in delicate arches, creating a sculpture of moving water to compliment the statue to the goddess of chivalry.

In the light from the greater number of torches inside the castle, Kaladin could see that Tarian was at least of noble blood. His hard cut features were very noble, and he had to roll his eyes as Tambre blushed, absently tucking her hair back behind one of her pointed ears.

Damned human blood. Their blood music's pitched too damned high.

Several stable boys met them in the courtyard, and helped them dismount. As soon as they removed their packs from the saddle-bags, the boys led the animals away -- Chewey trying to eat one boy's cap.

Kaladin shook his head, and followed Tarian and the others through a large door set inside the castle proper's wall.

Inside, through a small foyer, they were led to a large parlor with several comfortable chairs and couches. A servant immediately appeared, and Tarian ordered her to take orders for their drinks. Kaladin hid a smile as Kander ordered only water.

The noble asked, "Would you care to break your fast, or have you eaten already?"

Khazad rubbed his beard, and said, "Somethin small to eat would'nae hurt."

Tarian nodded at the servant, and she curtsied, before leaving.

When he asked, they gave the nobleman a slightly editted version of their mission, without naming exact destinations or names. During that, the servant returned with a tray full of fruits and sliced vegetables.

Another servant brought them their drinks. Kaladin was fascinated by the wine that Sir Tarian and Nightshade drank -- it was a dark, almost black wine, that came in a frosted bottle. As Kaladin watched, a chunk of ice fell off of the wine bottle -- ice frozen from condensation. The antithief vowed to ask about the wine, at a later date.

The conversation veered one way and another. It turned out that Tarian had no grudges against King Korrox -- Erlkazar had been a duchy of Tethyr's twenty years before. But during the Black Days of Elient, Tethyr's king had been slain; the chaos that ensued had forced many hard decisions, and Tarian respected Korrox's.

"The Knights of the Silver Chalice," Sir Tarian claimed, "Will prevent such an assassination from taking place, again. Oh, have you heard the wonderful news? The queen gave birth to triplets!"

Nightshade said, "That is fortuitous news; a good omen, for the kingdom."

Tarian nodded, smiling, and sipped his frosted wine. "I quite agree. Now, however, we wait for word to sally forth to Ithael Pass, to prove our worth."

He peered at Nightshade, and said, "I had thought that another drow would be a lucky symbol, as well. It's rumored that Drizzt was seen on the road to Tethyr, perhaps to seen an old friend of his, Katterly."

Learellian asked, "Is there news of the war in the south?"

Tarian paused, organizing his thoughts. "Teledorn razed Kzeltor, and has fortified his encampment there. His army is, apparently, inhuman -- and that has a number of us worried. But our cause is just, and we shall prevail."

Kaladin wondered for a moment if Tarian was not a paladin, from the way he spoke of fearlessly running in where avatars feared to tread.

Learellian mentioned, "Dhulnarim may have been burning, when we last saw the city. It was apparently under attack, but we've heard no word. You?"

Tarian shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He blinked, and said, "I beg your forgiveness; you have given me your name, Learellian Sythvandyr, but what of your comrades?"

As each was introduced in turn, Kander was last. Learellian said, "And this is Kander Ironhull, last known sorceror of the Mystics' Academy of Erlkazar."

Tarian sat up. " 'Last known sorceror'? What has happened?"

Kander said, "Well, it began when I was assigned to instructor Kallus, at the academy. I read Netherese, but I feared I had been mistranslating it, all that time, when the new instructor began giving strange translations on beholders and beholder-kin out of the Netherese tombs we had dealing with the subject-"

They were saved from the whole story by a set of double-doors opening in the parlor. Sir Tarian immediately dropped to one knee, offering his respects.

The woman that stepped in was handsome, perhaps in her mid-thirties and exuded power like a strong perfume. She wore a golden tiara the color of her golden hair. As well, she held a golden staff in one hand, and a silver chalice in the other. Her robes were of purest white, and beneath them, Kaladin thought he saw a set of fine silver chain mail as she moved.

Taking their cue from Sir Tarian, the rest of the White Wolves bowed or curtsied.

The woman said, "Arise, Sir Tarian. Introduce me to your guests."

Tarian stood up, and turned to address the White Wolves. "This is the Aalangama Gulderhorn, Lady of the Morning Gold, Royal Eclesiastic Cleric to her Majesty, Queen Zaranda."

Kaladin was glad he bowed.

Lady Gulderhorn chuckled, and said, "Please, be seated. I had heard there were weary travellers within my halls, and thought to speak with them."

Again, introductions were made, and an editted story of their destination was given. Something about the woman prodded Nightshade to speak up.

"We seek to fulfill the prophecy."

There was a moment's silence, and Lady Gulderhorn turned to Reft. "Is this true, Scholar Reft?"

Reft, besotten with the Royal Eclesiastic Cleric's beauty, could only nod dumbly.

Learellian said, "We seek the Temple of the Blooded Moon, beyond the Earth-Sky Pass."

Nightshade asked softly, "Do you know of what we speak?"

After a moment, Lady Gulderhorn set down the ceremonial silver chalice upon an end table. She seemed to Kaladin, more a person, and less an office, at that moment. She said, "I do. I must ask, though, what prompted you to undertake this mission?"

Nightshade said, "Visions. Visions from Selune. Visions from Clangeddin."

Khazad said, "Visions from Moradin. Visions from Lathandar."

Sir Tarian's eyes were full of respect as he glanced from the Lady Gulderhorn, to the rest of the party.

The cleric said, "You are, indeed, brave souls. You are welcome, within my walls, this night. What route do you plan to take, to get to the pass?"

Nightshade said, "We plan on going to Saradush, from here, and then on to the pass."

Lady Gulderhorn nodded. "Very well." She rose, and all of them rose with her. She whispered something in Tarian's ear, and then turned to all of them. "I wish you luck on your journey, and I bid you good night." She nodded, and then left, the double-doors closing behind her.

Tarian clasped his hands behind his back. "She bid me tell you that the roads between here and Saradush are full of wyverns, and so to be careful. The servants will take you to your rooms."

With that, the Knight of the Silver Chalice left the party. They all felt as though something extraordinary had happened, but none of them could seem to put their fingers on just what it was.

* * *

They woke the next morning to slices of oranges and apples on the tables near their down-filled beds. Kaladin sighed resignedly, and forced himself out of bed. So many years on the road had made the soft feather-filled bed feel uncomfortably comfortable.

Sir Tarian was talking with the others when Kaladin came in. Instead of the breast plate and breeches, he was dressed more as a noble, with rich robes and belts, and pointed-toe shoes.

The noble asked Kaladin, "I trust you slept well?"

The antithief grunted, and spied himself in a mirror. He was blackness, standing against the white walls behind him. And I bring blackness with me, wherever I go.

He ended the dour thoughts by drowning a tankard full of beer.

Kaladin being the last of them to rouse, Tarian led them back through the foyer, and into the courtyard through the door they had left it. Their horses were already combed, saddled, and bridled, with several stable boys holding onto the reins.

One stable boy was missing a hat, and Chewey was chewing contentedly on it. Khazad sighed at the sight of it, and then chuckled.

Sir Tarian said, "I wish you gods' speed on your quest, and success in whatever you attend to."

Nightshade lifted an ebon fist, and said, "Victory in the south!"

Tarian smiled. "Victory in the south." The noble winked at Tambre, and then turned to reenter the castle proper.

Kaladin wondered if Tambre had slept alone, the night prior. Instead of mentioning it, he said, "Nightshade; would you take Moon?" The wolf pup was eagerly leaping into the air by Stalimor, waiting for Kaladin to pull her up into his lap.

The drow priestess said, "Certainly! Why is it that you do not wish her in your lap, though?"

Kaladin snatched Moon out of her leap, and handed the squirming pup to Nightshade. "If there are wyverns about, I want my bow handy -- I can't draw and hold Moon at the same time."

The priestess said, "Ah, I understand." Moon licked her face, and she smiled, turning her horse, Havoc.

Reft said, "Wasn't that pleasant?" He smiled bemusedly at the castle, as they rode their horses slowly out of the keep, and over the bridge outside. "Wasn't that pleasant." He turned to ask Tambre, "Wasn't that pleasant?"

Tambre gave him the arched eyebrow.

He shut up.

Nightshade asked the scholar, one arm around the squirming wolf pup, "How much further, Reft?"

Reft paused, thinking. The man had the disturbing habit of being unable to do anything else while he thought, save wring his hands -- not ride, not run, not talk. After a moment, he said, "It's about half a day to the Idle Flow? Sunset'll probably catch us out of doors, though? Or if we pressed on, through the night, we could probably make Saradush late?"

Khazad glanced into the sky, and said, "I'm not one for sleepin out o doors, when there be wyverns aboot."

Learellian nodded. "Agreed. We'll press on for Sarudush, then."

Tambre clicked her tongue, urging her mount to pick up the pace, and the White Wolves took their cue from her.

The farmland through which they road was plentiful, supporting a variety of crops. As the day wore on, though, they left the cultivated lands, and began to trael through grasslands over rolling hills, occasionally dotted with trees or copses of trees.

By noon, they reached the Idle Flow, and rode along its banks, following the road down to the bridge. The Idle Flow was much larger than the Stone Flow; it was perhaps fifty yards across, and a third as deep. The water was very clear, and probably fairly chilly, flowing as it did down out of the mountains. The banks of the river were very steep, and the antithief was glad he would not have to try and ford the river. Kaladin saw a dead branch floating in the river at a pace slightly faster than their own, indicating the river was fast-flowing, as well.

Not much later, they reached the bridge across the Idle Flow. The bridge was large, and built to handle a great deal of traffic; it was perhaps two wagons wide, and made of thick wooden beams to support a great deal of weight.

Though they had seen only the occasional farmers' wagon or lone traveller, they could see no one else.

Learellian led their horses across the bridge, the animals snorting at the hollow thud of their hooves on the bridge.

Half way across the bridge, Learellian glanced from the water, up into the sky, and pulled his reins up short, causing his mount to rear. As the horse's hooves struck the bridge, again, Learellian said, "Wyvern!" and pointed to a small, puffy cloud.

The group turned to look, and sure enough, the wyvern emerged from one side of the cloud. It spread its wings, some forty-feet wide, and began to fly in their direction.

Learellian slapped his bay's withers, urging it to a gallop across the bridge, and the others moved to follow.

Kaladin glanced up, and saw that the wyvern was directly overhead, some hundreds of yards up. It swept its wings together, and began a dive straight for Kander.

Kander, seeing the wyvern diving straight for him, faltered in his spellcasting, and his horse slowed down. Kaladin grabbed for the man's reins, and then Ironhull began the chant again to cast the spell.

The antithief looked up, and diving wyvern was growing enormous, and quickly. Kander froze, again, halting his spell, leaving it incomplete.

Kaladin fought Stalimor, whom was whinnying in fear of the great wyvern's dive. Seeing the situation, Kaladin dove off his horse onto the bridge, rolling with the impact. He came up with his bow ready, and an arrow already drawn.

The wyvern spread its wings at the last moment, making all of the horses scream in fear. The huge leathery wings swept once, and then Kander was plucked from his saddle.

A liquid, transparent fist fully five feet wide rose from the waters of the river, and grasped the wyvern's tail. The barb on the tail released venom into the swirling fist of water, and fought to free its tail; the gusts from its wings blew the shadowcloak out behind the defiant Kaladin in a billowing gust.

The wyvern slipped free of the watery fist, and Nightshade cursed, letting the spell she had cast fall away. The wyvern flapped its wings, trying to regain lost momentum, and slowly moved out over the river, Kander futily striking the beast's claws with his hands.

Tambre let fly a dagger into the wyvern's flank, and the beast screamed out -- as though outraged that a bee would dare to sting it.

The beast flew higher into the air, finally regaining its maneuverability and speed. Kaladin saw the wildly flailing Kander in the wyvern's claws, and quickly put his arrow back in its sheath. Drawing deep within the shadowcloak's powers, he commanded the magical patterns for darkness.

From the depths of the shadow planes, tendrils of darkness began to move about the wyvern's head, surrounding its eyes in a globe of darkness perhaps five feet across. The wyvern screamed, instantly losing altitude as it flounded about, blind.

Kander shouted, "Ohmygod!" just before the beast shrieked in defiance.

By sheer luck, the wyvern crashed into the water of the Idle Flow, perhaps a hundred yards upstream of the bridge. Learellian, finally getting his bay under control, peered across the distance. Kaladin saw it, as well -- Kander surfaced well aways from the wildly thrashing wyvern, and began to swim for shore.

The fast-moving water of the river was making that difficult, but Kander appeared to be a fair swimmer. It was only a few moments, before Kander pulled himself up onto the bank of the river, using grass-roots for hand holds. He lay there, panting, as Learellian began to trot his horse in that direction.

Kaladin considered knocking an arrow -- though the wyvern was a hundred yards away, he felt he could hit it, if he put enough arrows into the air.

A shadow passed overhead, and the sun was blocked.

Stalimor reared as the antithief grabbed the reins, holding them tight.

The sun appeared a moment later, and the shadow performed a slow pirouette over the highlands, before circling around.

Kander screamed, and leapt back into the river.

Kaladin saw the wave of fear roll over his companions like a physical thing, as a gale-force wind blew over him, frothing the waters, and billowing the shadowcloak and its hood level out behind him.

Its wings spread ten times that of the wyvern's span, each scaled, red wing being close to two-hundred feet long. Its body was enormous, with a head close to twenty feet long, and fifteen feet wide. Its talons were like spears, each of them ten feet long and wickedly pointed. The red beast's eyes surveyed everything with a chill intelligence that went beyond that of mortal kin. And woven into its long beard were rings and amulets that flashed in the sunlight.

The red dragon slowly hovered closer to the wildly thrashing wyvern, and then alighted on top of it. There was a flash of red and a spray of white water and steam. A moment later, a great crunching sound was heard, as the dragon tore off one of the wyvern's legs, and ate it, bone and all.

The dragon's jaws crunched the bone, and then the red behemoth tore off another chunk of wyvern. As Kaladin fought a wildly crazed Stalimor, the glanced at the others. Save Kander, who swam fiercely towards the bridge, the others were locked into place -- and even their animals were too frightened to move, lest they draw the attention of the great beast.

Learellian was on his knees, praying.

Kander grabbed onto a floating log, and sailed under the bridge at a good clip, grinning happily, eager to be away from the dragon.

Kaladin let go of Stalimor, and the horse promptly bolted away, running off the bridge, and out over the highlands.

Kaladin turned to face the dragon, wondering if his arrows would be of any use against so great a behemoth. Instinctively, he knew they would not.

The dragon finished its meal of wyvern, sucking the tail into its mouth. It crunched for a moment, carefully teasing the tail with its tongue, and then it spit the wyvern's stinger out into the water. The water beneath the bridge was red from the wyvern's blood.

The red dragon walked through the water, covering the hundred yards in a frighteningly short amount of time. The dragon's head was level with Kaladin, standing on the bridge. If he had wanted, he could have reached out and touched the monster's snout.

The dragon peered at him closely, and then turned to look at the others. Its voice was a deep rumble that was felt as much as heard, and the water around the bridge literally shook as the monster spoke. "I'm full."

Thank Waukeen!

"Otherwise," the red dragon intoned. "I'd probably eat you." The creature heaved a breath, and the grasses blew forward as though a hurricane had mown them flat. "Blasted little adventurers."

The dragon sniffed at Learellian, whom had not moved from his prayerful position. "Mrm. Elf bones." He licked his lips, and turned his attention to the others, again. "You're not like normal adventurers."

The dragon suddenly swept its head to be in Kaladin's face, again. The adventurer clenched his fists, ready to begin a spell at a moment's notice. As the dragon spoke, its breath wreaked of cooked wyvern. "Don't you want my treasure?" it asked mockingly.

Kaladin briefly perused his mental list of spells, quickly concluding that it was all rather useless. So close, the antithief gazed upon the dragon's beard, spying something woven into it.

The red dragon belched, the force of the wind billowing the shadowcloak. The dragon said, "Thanks for the lunch."

He leapt out of the water, his wings beating and buffetting them. Kaladin threw his arms up to protect himself from the splinters of wood that tore themselves loose from the bridge under the tornado's winds. The monster nonchalantly destroyed the other half of the bridge with its claws, as it leapt up again.

It slowly hovered, and then let loose a flame of fiery breath, scorching the grasses all around the group -- but not harming them. The dragon laughed evilly at their fear, and then flew up into the clouds, into the blue sky, and out of sight.

Nightshade was dripping wet from the sloshed water.

Kander pulled himself up out of the river, shivering, and quickly hugged Learellian. "We're alive!"

Nightshade shook herself out of her fear, and moved to tend to Kander's slightly bloody robes. The sorceror glanced down at himself, and nearly passed out. The wyvern's claws had hurt him, but not mortally. The drow priestess begged a quick spell of Selune, and an apology for the terseness of the prayer.

Khazad and Chewey shook themselves from their fear, and charged off through the already burnt portions of the grasses to find Stamilor.

Kaladin unclenched his fist. Woven into the beard of the red dragon was a single, solid plate of mithril. The plate had, inscribed upon it, three threes in a cascade pattern.

Sharfekanathor. The thousand year-old dragon is a plague. It was rumored that Sharfekanathor had glashed with Balegost, the greatest dragon of all. It was rumored that he had a lair within the dwarven ruins of Shanatar. It was rumored that his was the greatest treasure hord in all the Realms, among all the dragons.

Kaladin massaged his wrists. What other rumors are fact?

* * *

The guard nodded, his face lit only by a torch in the late of the night. "Hello, travellers. What brings thee to Saradush?"

The guard's white tabard was nearly as blank as the man's mind, but Learellian answered the question with a tired voice. "We're en route, to the mountains, to seek our destiny."

"Very good. Enjoy thy stay whilst thou can -- be warned, though, whenst thou leave. A red dragon has been sighted, far to the north."

The White Wolves, and Resk, simply stared tiredly at the guard.

For a brief moment, Kaladin was tempted to conjure up a perfect image of the red dragon, and ask the guard with a straight face, Like that one? He was too tired, though, and merely urged an equally tired Stalimor forward, past the guard, and through the gates of Saradush.

Just inside the gates, though, they had to quickly get off the street. Clost to a hundred or more armed men in white tabards filed past, most armed with halberds and shields, and helms with wide-flared wings on them. Their march was a double-time, and they looked to have been in a hurry.

A nearby merchant shook his head. "Baron must be sendin men to Barakmorden, an then to Ithael Pass. Best o luck to ye, boys." He turned back to his wagon load, and clapped a mule on the rump.

As Reft led them through the city, his being the only member of the party familiar with it, Kaladin heard snatches of rumors. War was on the lips of everyone within the town. Some of the rumors made the antithief pause and think, wondering at how real they might be. Some of them were so outlandish that the antithief would have laughed, had he not been so tired.

They finally found themselves at the Wailing Walk tavern and inn, clear on the other side of the city. For all Reft's familiarity with the place, he had to stop and ask directions three times.

The barkeep was an older man with a sandy-turning-white shock of hair. Business for him was slow, with one dwarf and two merchants in a corner being his only other customers. Reft spoke with the barkeep for a moment, exhanging pleasantries, and then asking if his partner, Artes, had been through. The barkeep responded that, yes, the gnome had been there -- but he had left several days before, just after hiring a small band of mercenaries.

That much learned, Reft arranged for rooms for all of them. Learellian and Nightshade stayed together, that night. Khazad and Reft were in another room. And Kander, Kaladin, and Tambre shared the third.

They ate down in the commons room, where the two merchants heatedly argued over whether Saradush should secede from Tethyr, and become independent to stay out of the coming war, or not.

After a dull meal, they tiredly crawled into their beds. Tambre slept on the floor in Kander's and Kaladin's room, fast asleep with the wolf pups acting as pillows and blankets. Kaladin was too tired to swap places with the warrioress, and promptly fell asleep in his bed.

Kaladin awoke to a light touch on his throat. He knew instantly that it was a blade.

The face staring into Kaladin's own was a familiar one. It had haunted his nightmares for ten years. Kiser Jhaeir, the Cat Assassin -- one of the Shadow Thieves' most elite assassins. Kiser had killed Kaladin's father -- it was Kiser whom had spilled his mother's guts.

Hatred flared behind Kaladin's eyes, and it must have shown to Kiser. The assassin said in a whisper, "Not. A. Sound." He motioned with his head to Tambre lying nearby on the floor. "Or they die."

Tambre's eyes were closed, but the wolf pups' were open. Their eyes had a glazed look to them, and their breathing was short and shallow -- as though they had been poisoned or drugged.

Only that kept Kaladin from attacking. Only the threat to his friends could sew any real fear in the antithief. Kiser was the reason for Kaladin's profession. He was the sole reason the Shadow Thieves had not given up on Kaladin. Kaladin Osterus was the only mark Kiser had never killed. The only mark the assassin had ever had escape.

Kiser motioned Kaladin forward, the stilletto dangerously close to Kaladin's throat. The blade was completely black, save for where the soft moonlight danced off of silver runes set in the blade. An enchanted blade. Well, I have one, as well.

The Cat Assassin was dressed entirely in black -- as was Kaladin. Kiser motioned for Kaladin to slowly, quietly move out into the hallway.

Kiser moved into position behind Kaladin, and whispered, "Remember. Not a word, or they die."

Unseen by the black within black of the night, Kaladin's hand slowly went to the hilt of Serusk.

Kiser slowly moved around Kaladin, and opened the door quietly -- all the time keeping his stilletto ready to end Kaladin's life. The Cat Assassin motioned Kaladin through, and he slowly moved into the hallway.

One slow-burning tallow-lamp lit the hallway.

Kiser slowly closed the door, his blade near Kaladin's throat, and then turned his full attention upon the antithief. "You've escaped my wrath for ten years. I've been searching for you, hunting you, for ten years -- and you waltze right into my city."

Kaladin said nothing, as he slowly drew upon the powers of the shadowcloak.

The Cat Assassin whispered harshly, "And now, you die."

Kaladin released the darkness spell full upon Kiser's eyes, just as the assassin pulled something from his belt, hurling it at Kaladin. Serusk was barely free of its scabbard, when the vial exploded in midair, hurling a thick, viscous fluid onto Kaladin.

The liquid instantly burned through his black-dyed doe skins, and began to eat at his skin, burning it and dissolving it at the same time. Kaladin screamed in agony, writhing uncontrollably as his body contorted, trying feverishly to escape the maddening pain.

The pain proved too much, and Kaladin passed out. Or thought he did.

He found himself floating up above his badly burned body. Holes were eaten through his rib cage to the shadowcloak, where the magical cloak hissed and steamed as though it were a living thing.

Kaladin glanced down the hallway, seeing things far, far too clearly for his liking.

Nightshade had cast a spell of light into the magical darkness Kaladin had cast upon Kiser's eyes. The two spells had warred with one another for a moment, and then the light won.

Kiser was standing over Kaladin's body, gloating, when Kaladin appeared at the far end of the hallway from the darkness. Kaladin, seeing far too clearly, could see that it was his likeness, but the other form of himself was a vampire.

Learellian, clad only in a loin cloth and Nightfire, turned to see the vampire Kaladin. Nightfire burned like a living thing, jerking in the bladesinger's hand. The vampire Kaladin contemptuously grabbed Learellian by the throat, and hurled him across the narrow hallway, and through the wall.

A woman inside screamed at the interruption, as Learellian picked himself up out of the splinters of the wall, blood rising from a thousand welts upon his tors.

Kiser Jhaeir drew his last breath, and then let it out through the stump of his neck. His heart pumped blood in spurts through severed carteroid arteries, and then the Cat Assassin's body began to fall. It struck the ground at the same time Kiser's head slammed into a wall, and bounced to the floor.

Learellian yelled, "Kaladin!" as though from a far-off distant place.

Khazad threw open his door, Shieldcrusher ready, and stared open-mouthed at the scene of carnage in the hall.

The vampire Kaladin sheathed his swords of sharpness, and said over Kaladin's body, "What a waste."

Learellian approached cautiously, Nightfire nearly dragging the Sylvan elf towards the vampire Kaladin.

The vampire said once again, "What a waste." Kaladin recognized the voice. The same as the one he had heard in Dhulnarim, when the Shadow Thieves there had tried to assassinate him.

Nightshade, peeking out from behind Learellian was ebony in the darkness of the bladesinger's shadow. Her gray eyes were wide, and her delicate nostrils flared.

Turning, the vampire looked intently at Learellian. "You're that young pup of Kalemvarel's." It was a statement. Not a question.

The vampire turned once more to look at Kaladin's body, where acid still hissed and bubbled, eating through him. "What a waste." The vampire's body dissolved into a thick, white mist, and when the mist cleared, Kiser's body was gone, as was the vampire.

It was then that Kaladin realized who the vampire was. "Grandfather?" He had no voice. Only thought. He had no body. The feeling was unnerving. He could hear the call, the power drawing him to the Fugue Plains -- where the maroots would guide him to the heavans. Kaladin fought it. He fought it hard.

Learellian kicked down the door to Kander and Tambre's room, forcefully waking the two of them. Tambre, still drugged, stumbled into the hallway with Swift and Wind drawn.

Reft peeked out from the room he had shared with Khazad, and the woman from across Learellian's room screamed at the sight of Kaladin, and the head with no body.

The barkeep, his sandy-to-gray hair disheveled and sleep still in his eyes, looked over the devestation.

Kaladin lost the fight, and was pulled instantly to the Fugue Plains. There, thousands of other souls milled about. Giant maroots walked among the souls, guiding them and herding them to places where others of the same faith congregated. A column of light came from the heavens some distance away, and lifted up three dozen souls to join the goddess of luck.

Kal suddenly found himself distanced from the other souls of the Fugue Plains. On one side of him, a beautiful woman backlit by white light called to him. Belatedly, he realized it was his mother. "Come with me, my Kaladin. Come with me, into the light."

Another voice from the other side said, "No. He never followed you, Lady of Joy."

Kaladin spun, to see a vague form that at times resembled Selune, and at times resembled Clangeddin.

When Waukeen was stolen to the planes of hell, as few knew, her powers were stripped from her. The goddess' friend, the Lady of Joy, took over her worshippers, granting them spells, and accepting souls into her heavans. But Kaladin still worshipped Waukeen -- not the Lady of Joy.

The image of his mother said, "Come to me, Kaladin. Join me. Meet your baby brother. Come to me."

The other voices, the voices of Selune and Clangeddin, said, "Choose, Kaladin."

For Kaladin, there was no choice. No matter how tempting, he could never leave his friends, without at least saying goodbye.

Kaladin came to his senses, but did not open his eyes. He was lying in the fetal position, eyes closed, and the felt the familiar fabric of the shadowcloak beneath him.

Learellian was singing, from somewhere nearby.

It was a haunting elven song of thanksgiving to the gods, for all the gifts they had given the elves.

The voice of Kaladin's grandfather spoke from the darkness. "You're almost as graceful as your master."

Learellian's voice fell silent, and then asked harshly, "What do you want?"

Kal felt his grandfather's presence, standing over him. "I just wanted to check on myself." He paused for a moment, and said quietly, "You surprised me -- all of you."

Kaladin heard the swishing of Learellian's hair, freed from its pony-tail. "I don't understand. Yourself?"

His grandfather said, "You're not meant to understand."

There was a moment's silence, and then Learellian said, "Leave him be." Nightfire hummed in the air over Kaladin, and the antithief could imagine the smile on his grandfather's face as such a puny weapon leveled at him.

There was a flash of mist, and Kaladin felt that he and Learellian were alone.

Tired, the antithief drifted back to sleep, sung to rest by the bladesinger's song.

* * *

Kaladin woke to sunlight in his eyes. He blinked, fighting the light back. He rolled over in his bed, and moaned.

Learellian asked quietly, "Can you sit up?"

The antithief nodded, and did so with the bladesinger's help. Kaladin sipped at a warm chicken broth, his whole body trembling in the morning light. He croaked, "What happened?"

Learellian asked, "You don't remember?"

Kaladin lied, and he was surprised at how easy it was. "Remember what?"

Learellian started to say, "You die-" just as Pale and Moon burst into the room.

Both wolf pups licked and played with Kaladin, quickly exhausting his already exhausted body. Tambre shooed the two wolf pups out, and then suddenly hugged Kaladin to her.

The antithief was startled, but said nothing. Tambre let him go, and then said sternly, "Don' you EVER do that do us, again! You hear?!"

Learellian said quietly, "You died, Kaladin."

The antithief closed his eyes, and hung his head. Tired. So tired.

Tambre said, "Nightshade and Khazad were up, for a whole day, casting prayers to Selune and Clangeddin."

Kander, whom had slipped into the room, said, "Well, Resk feels that it sort of fufills the prophecy, in a sense. That part about 'The legions of earth and silver; grant a mighty boon', and all." The sorceror was silent for a moment, and then simply said, "You had us worried, there. But it's good to have you back."

Kaladin nodded, and opened his eyes. "It's good to be back." For however long it takes to make my good byes.

Kander grinned an infectuous grin, and the sunlight seemed that much brighter because of it.

Learellian at his elbow, Kaladin slowly shuffled down the stairs, towards noon. The antithief was fast recovering, but he knew his limits -- he had tested them often enough.

The noon meal was somewhat subdued. There were no other patrons in the tavern, and the barkeep brought it a great deal of good food. The looks he gave Kaladin were at once fearful, and awed.

Kaladin asked, "Where's everyone else?"

Kander replied with, "I gave him about ten platinum pieces, so that we could have the whole place to ourselves. That, and it would help repair some of the damages. Did you know that I had to use a whole quart of vinegar to wash that acid off of you before it completely-" He oofed, as Tambre elbowed him in the ribs.

Reft, his eyes never leaving Kaladin, asked, "What's it like, to die?"

Everyone was silent, as they waited for Kaladin to answer.

He thought, for a moment. Kiser Jhaeir was dead. On the one hand, with Kiser dead, no one in the Shadow Thieves would think to look again for Kaladin. But the antithief knew that freedom was short-lived -- soon, he would have to return to the Fugue Plains, and the Lady of Joy. There was so much to say, and so much to explain -- and he found there was a soft geas laid upon his lips, that he could not tell.

He finally said, "Empty. It feels... empty." Kaladin turned to Learellian, and said, "I'm tired, again; would you help?"

The bladesinger nodded, and Tambre took the other elbow -- together, the two of them guided him back up the stairs, and to his bed. Once he was tucked in, they left, closing the door behind them. Having been given a moment's privacy, in the room he had to himself, Kaladin cried the tears of the dead.

And as he did so, the shadows in the room began to lengthen. With every hairsbreadth the light crawled up the wall, Kaladin felt another grain of sand fall from his hour-glass like a boulder.

* * *

They left at noon, of the next day.

Kaladin was quiet, and subdued, saying little to anyone around him. Nor did anyone ask him much.

They left the horses in the care of a stablemaster on the north side of the city, before setting out on foot. They hiked several miles down a small road that led to the mayor's manor, before turning off the path, and cutting straight off for the Earth-Sky Pass.

Kaladin took to his traditional role, scouting ahead of the party some thirty yards ahead, looking for any signs of trouble. The day wore on.

They found the remains of a battle of some sort, before sunset. There was a skinned, six-legged cat of some sort in the middle of the battle. Tambre was brought in to track and lore the area. She decided that about ten heavy figures, possibly in armor, marched into the area. There were no gnomish tracks, and they had to conclude that the tracks did not belong to Artes' hired guards. The prints were several days old -- as was the skinned cat, or whatever it was.

The party continued on, looking for a place to camp. The highlands were fairly open and rolling, offering little protection from the elements and from nature.

They made camp that night next to a large boulder, making no fire, and eating iron rations that tasted like iron.

The moon was just rising, and was still waxing towards full.

Pale and Moon scrabbled atop a nearby rock, looked plaintively at the moon, and then tilted their heads back, howling.

There was a moment's silence, and from somewhere far off, there was an answering howl.

Learellian and Kaladin exchanged a glance. The pups had never howled at the moon, before, and might be reaching maturity.

The pups glanced at the party, tongue lolling, and then both tilted their heads back, again, baying at the moon.

Atop a nearby hill, a white wolf answered the baying of the pups. Khazad started, and Nightshade bent to one knee. Kaladin wondered at their reactions, as the white wolf began to bound towards the party.

The antithief eased his bowstring into place, as the large white wolf came closer. Ignoring the party, the wolf leapt atop the boulder with the wolf pups. The three began to sniff one another, and then the pups whined, and began eagerly licking the muzzle of the adult white wolf.

There was a strange cast to the adult; something that made it seem different than any wolf Kaladin had ever seen before. The wolf's muzzle was shorter than any wolf's he had seen before, and the gaze it leveled upon him, and the rest of the party, was full of intelligence. There were other, more subtle differences between the adult white wolf, and others.

As the wolf pups played with the patient adult, Kaladin could see what he had not seen before. The wolf pups were only half wolf. The similarities to the adult that watched the party were too many -- the pups were half of whatever the adult was.

Nightshade whispered a prayer to Selune, and Kaladin heard the phrase 'adon an'tyulak' several times. In elven, the phrase roughly translated to 'moon canine'. In the cities of the north, there were whispered tales of 'moon dogs', beings that fought evil at every turn with powerful spells and abilities beyond that of mortal kin.

Kaladin met those eyes with a new understanding, and nodded to the adon an'tyulak. The creature nodded in return to Kaladin, and then licked each wolf pup, in turn.

Nightshade said aloud, "Greetings, representative of the moon mother."

Within the vaults of Kaladin's mind, he heard an answer. "Ages and eyes reopen; herald the crescent moon. The legions of earth and silver; grant a mighty boon." The adon an'tyulak looked pointedly at Kaladin.

The antithief felt another grain of sand, like an enormous boulder, fall from his hour glass. For a brief moment, grain of sand remained suspended, not quite falling -- and then it joined its fellows in an ever growing pile. I'm the boon. Son of a bitch! I'm the boon!

Reft was giving fervent prayer to some deity or another, practically blubbering.

Kaladin glanced at the scholar, and then back to the adon an'tyulak. Something in the gaze; something in the rumors from the north... The antithief suddenly realized that before him was not one of an adon an'tyulak.

"Follow the righteous path."

There was a flash of silver moonlight, and the adult white wolf was gone. The pups whined, and then leapt off of their boulder, moving to encircle the party, eagerly lapping at their faces.

Nightshade whispered, "Selune!"

Reft said, "Oh my goodness?"

Kaladin glanced at the moon, and then shook his head. For one, brief instant, he wondered, Couldn't someone else have died? He thought for a moment, and then realized that it was better him, than the others.

Nightshade remained awake, after the others had gone to rest. She sat atop the same boulder Selune had sat atop, and prayed to the moon goddess for long hours.

Kaladin reinked his quill, and captured the moment in his book. With so little time left to him, he was capturing as much as he could.

* * *

Later the next day, they were examining the scene of a battle. There were dozens of bodies everywhere, and from the look of them, they were two days dead. Scavengers had done considerable damage to the bodies, but the earth itself, and arrangement of the bodies, suggested what had happened.

Tambre examined the tracks, and shook her head. "I don't understand it. It's those ten, heavily armed men, again, but they just... Appear out of nowhere, and then start in on these guys." She gestured a hand at the bodies strewn about. Several of them were cut clean in half; others were burned beyond recogniztion. Most were simply sliced open by blades.

Nightshade was examining two of the bodies that had been cut in two. Nearby, a boulder had thin line etched into it to a considerable depth. The priestess shook her head.

Kander took the whole scene in. There several patches of burned grass, and the men within them were burnt to a crisp -- no scavengers had touched them. "Beholder."

Nightshade said, "It fits. A beholder with each eye, performing a different function..."

Khazad asked, "Whot about the boot prints?"

Ironhull shook his head. "Incidental; the beholder likely has an escort. Each of his eye stalks would have a different ability -- one could cast a lance of light that would cut men in two. Another could call forth fire. Others would have other functions, which we're probably just not seeing, here on the battlefield."

Kaladin nodded. "Like that beholder back in Bridgestone Keep."

Kander shook his head. "From all you've told me, that sounds like it was merely a beholder-kin -- a smaller, less powerful cousin to the beholders."

Learellian poked at one body with Nightfire. The bloated remains crawled with maggots and buzzing flies. "These men all look like they're part of the same company -- same patch on all of em. Two lightning bolts that look like the wings of a bird."

Tambre said, "Here. Reft, quick; how tall was Artifes?"

The scholar blinked, and said, "Well, he was bout this tall?" He held his hand up at about four feet and six inches.

Tambre asked, "How thickly built was he? Light? Heavy?"

Reft said, "Medium build, for a gnome?"

The warrioress spun, surveying the battle field in a new light. "It looks like this is the company Artifes hired; gnomish prints..." She followed, backtracking on several occasions.

Pale and Moon, and the rest of the White Wolves, followed her. She went around a rock, and then followed a set of prints that ran wide in the grass. She crossed her arms, and paused, the wind gently flowing through her hair.

Tambre said, "Looks like he was lucky; he went to take a break, behind this boulder, when the beholder and his men attacked. He saw the battle, saw what was happening, and then tore off like a bat out of hell."

Learellian asked, "What direction did he go?"

Tambre pointed up into the mountains. "Towards the Earth-Sky Pass."

The party trooped on, readjusting their packs, before taking to Artifes' trail.

The gnome had moved fast, and apparently knew how to handle himself in the wilderness. He hade made use of any available nook or cranny to hide in, at night -- and there were many such in the highlands.

The land gave way from rolling green hills dotted with stones, to rolling gray hills, dotted with green. The trail became harder and harder to follow, and eventually disappeared. Resigned, they continued on towards the pass, hoping that Reft would guide them to the Temple of the Blooded Moon.

Higher and higher they climbed, for days, until Reft indicated they were to move into a cleft in the mountain.

The high walls on either side of the party made Kaladin nervous. As usual, he was out in front some thirty yards ahead, looking for traps, and scouting for trouble. The cleft was perhaps ten feet wide, and the walls climbed up hundreds of feet. If a wall of water, or bandits, or a beholder, were to catch them in the cleft, they would be trapped.

The cleft did not go straight into the mountain, but angled slowly, as though it followed a circle. Kaladin realized belatedly, that from the view of an eagle, the cleft would appear as a new moon.

And what lies at the other end? Kaladin wondered.

As he slowly moved ahead, checking for tripwires or odd stonework, slipping from shadow to shadow, the answer surfaced from his subconcious. The end. For me. One way, or another.

Kaladin peered out over a boulder that lay in the cleft, and then signalled for the others to join him. They crowded around him, peering over the boulder at the Temple of the Blooded Moon.

It had been carved from the very face of the natural cleft, its elaborate stonework recessed into the near vertical walls of granite. Most of the cleft, however, was filled with rubble and debris, covering up the majority of the temple. Kaladin could see none of the original doors and windows that must have been carved into the solid rock.

There was, however, another way in.

In the side of the cleft, was a perfectly smooth circle bored straight through the granite rock. There was no debris, and no dust. The hole was fairly recent, and Kaladin was willing to bet good money that it had been carved only two days before.

The hole was nearly twelve feet wide, and as Kaladin slipped into its darkness, his eyes adjusting to the deeper gloom, he realized that the tunnel was unstable. Cracks spread through the sides and ceiling of the tunnel, and here and there, pieces of the ceiling had fallen in.

A powerful spell, or a loud sound, would probably collapse the tunnel.

The antithief crawled slowly forward, and then up, as the tunnel angled up. He returned to the party a moment later, and explained the situation to them. He would stay ahead, and signal them when to come forward -- but if they were too loud, then chunks of the ceiling would fall -- and perhaps bring the tunnel down on top of them.

The White Wolves, and Reft, nodded, understanding. Kaladin eased forward, again, quietly returning to where he had left off. He resumed checking for traps, and every ten yards or so, would signal the others to join him.

In the dark of the tunnel, Kander's coin provided considerable light, especially as the sun set, outside, plunging the cleft into darkness.

Selune whispered, "I just realized. Tomorrow evening will be a full moon."

Kaladin grunted, seeing the hand of prophecy moving.

The tunnel had collapsed at one point. Kaladin squinted, and thought the debris very light. With some help from Learellian and Tambre, he moved aside enough chunks of stone to squeeze through. On the other side of the debris in the tunnel, the tunnel opened out quickly into a large room.

Kaladin signalled the others to join him, and they, too, began moving through the tiny tunnel within the tunnel. Khazad whispered quietly, his voice echoing in the silence, "Piss poor way tae make a tunnel, that; they could'ae at least made-" Finally coming into the room, his gaze swept left and right, and he sword. "Clangeddin's might be upon the fools that did this!" he whispered harshly.

Kander asked, "What?" He was just coming through the small tunnel, when he saw the room, as well. With the light from his enchanted coin, rather than the heat signatures of infravision, the room took on a worse appearance.

Set into the walls were dozens of stone beirs. The beirs were just the size for a dwarf to sleep -- or be laid to rest. In the middle of the room were dozens of statues of dwarves, but all of them had been destroyed. Hands of stone, and other body parts, were scattered about the room.

Kander whispered, "Wow. Why would anyone want to destroy all those dwarven statues?"

Khazad shook his head. "They're not statues, lad."

The sorceror blinked, and then understood. The dwarves that had been in the beirs had been petrified, and their living stone destroyed.

They had found the Sleeping Legion.

As Learellian helped Reft through, Tambre's gaze swept the room. "All the beirs are empty. But I only count twenty-nine of them."

Khazad nodded. "We dwarves work in sevens; yuir lookin at twenty-eight crusaders o Clangeddin, an their one leader."

Reft said, "Surely this is not all of the Sleeping Legion, though? There were Knights of Selune, as well?"

Kaladin called, "Over here."

Where he was, at the end of the rubble-strewn room, was at the door. The bejeweled double-doors had been cut in half across the middle. Kaladin ducked under the cut doors, checking for traps.

Nightshade stepped through the doors, and together, she and Kaladin looked around.

They were inside a hallway that was perhaps thirty-five yards long, and six yards across. Kaladin quickly recalculated, and decided that the hall was one-hundred and twenty-six feet long, and twenty-one feet wide.

They had come out of the hall on one end, along the long wall. There were six sets of bejeweled double-doors, three facing three, all down the hallway -- one across from them, two in the middle, and two down near the far end.

Kaladin squinted off into the distance, and secrety worried. His infravision was enhanced -- and he was seeing far further with it than he should have.

Another grain of sand fell through Kaladin's mental hour glass. He knew it would not be long.

Kander stepped into the hallway, his coin held aloft. Their infravision was spoiled by the light, but the details from the coin's glow made up the difference.

The floor was tiled much as the Deep Road had been, though the motif was alternating axe-heads, again and again and again. Capping the near end of the hallway was a tall set of double doors that stretched up to the twenty-one foot ceiling.

Set from one side to the other were three large squares of stone that stood out a bit from the doorways. Each stone bore an indention of a different symbol -- a double-headed battle-axe, a crescent moon, and what looked like a gem of some sort.

Reft took a step towards the three stone indentions, and something crunched under his foot. Not noticing, the scholar said, "The tripartite key? These are the three keys that must open this massive door?"

Tambre grabbed Kander's hand, bending the illuminating coin in it towards the floor. Shards of glass, or perhaps of a gem, were scattered about. The wall across from the sliced doorway through which they had come, was covered in a dried black ichor of some sort. There were splotches of the dried black stuff on the floor, and Pale and Moon sniffed at it cautiously.

Learellian asked, "Blood?"

Kander said, "Could be. But where did all this glass come from?"

Reft turned from the three stone indentions in the main doorway, and looked intently at the bejeweled double-doors to the other side. The scholar said, "Look? Here, here, and here? A pattern it makes?" The jewels on the double-doors were all semi-prescious and prescious gems of considerable value.

Kaladin examined the door in great detail, without touching it. "Looks odd; the mortar between the gems is cracked. Like the gems either come out -- or go in."

Reft nodded. "Press the right patter, and open the doors?"

Kal turned and glanced at Learellian. The Sylvan elf said, "No. Let's explore, further, first."

Kaladin nodded, drawing a scroll from his vest. He quietly chanted the spell to completion, and the magical energies released by the reading burned the scroll up. Kaladin's vision was further enhanced by the magical scroll. Anything magical would give off a glow; the brighter the glow, the more powerful the magic.

The antithief had difficulty seeing anything. The very air itself had a ward built into it, and only upon closer inspection could he tell if anything was enchanted. His shadowcloak, and Serusk glowed, as did his bracers. But the floor glowed, as well as the walls, as well as all the doors.

The party made their way slowly down the long hallway, examining the walls, the floors, and even some of the rubble. The centuries -- the millennia -- had been kind to the Temple of the Blood Moon, but even stone succumbs to time. Parts of the ceiling were loose in places, but the structure seemed, for the most part, sound.

Learellian grabbed at his bicep, and then threw his raven into the air. The bird cawed once, and then glided down the hallway, before circling back to land on Learellian's shoulder.

The double-doors at the very end of the hallway sat between two sets of bejeweled double-doors in the walls, making an almost mirror-image of the other side of the hallway. The greater double-doors in the middle before them, however, had no stone indentations. The doors were carved with basse-relief stonework, gilded with gold -- but appeared to Kaladin as no more magical than the rest of the hallway.

The doors that required the three keys, by contrast, had been as bright in Kaladin's eyes as Swift and Wind on close inspection.

Kaladin checked the door, but was disatisified -- his tools could barely probe into the seams of the doors, and he worried that any of a thousand different traps could be triggered by the doors opening. The antithief had learned his lessons on dwarven design and stonework back in Bridgestone Keep -- and he was not about to let them go to waste.

Shrugging, Kal let Khazad go over the door.

After a long, puzzling look, the dwarf simply set his shoulder to the door. Tambre helped him after a moment, and then, so, too, did Learellian.

Some rubble blocked the doorway, but the three blades of the White Wolves pushed anyway, shoving aside the rubble without going in.

Inside was an octagonal room whose ceiling stretched up into a vaulted dome some thirty-five feet up. There were double-doors identical to the one they had opened along all four of the walls to the octagon that faced in the cardinal directions. On the floor was the debris of three stone statues -- their bases lying along three points of a square. The fourth point of the square had an intact statue, of a nine-foot tall dwarf. The dwarf had an eerie looking pick-axe for one hand, and a hammer for the other.

Khazad stepped into the room, and then Nightshade. They slowly moved forward, examining the remains of the statues, and the dwarven-tiled depictions on the walls. Bits of stone crunched under their feet as they moved, until they stood within the center of the room, the tip of the vaulted dome directly over their heads.

The eyes of the statue suddenly lit with an eerie light, and it turned its stone head towards the priestess and the crusader. Kaladin shouted a warning, as the statue moved towards them with slow, deliberate speed.

Each step the statue took was like a hammer striking stone, and within a few paces. It lifted its pick arm to swing at them, and then Khazad reacted.

The crusader activated the powers inherent in his magical boots -- the boots he had taken from Marik the Quick. In a flash, he grabbed Nightshade from the path of the statue's pick, and then he and Nightshade were with the others. Khazad turned around, Shieldcrusher and the Brightshield ready.

The statue moved forward, and the party prepared for the inevitable strike from its hammer or its pick-axe.

It closed the doors.

Kaladin blinked, hearing the statue's heavy feet move back across the floor of the octagonal room, and settling into position.

Tambre and Khazad exhanged a glance, as though angry they had been denied a fight. They quickly shouldered the door open, again, and stormed into the room.

The stone statue took one step, and then slammed its hammer and its pick-axe together. A shockwave of such force that the air around it rippled hammered into Khazad and Tambre. The dwarf was thrown up against the double-doors to the right, and Tambre was thrown back into the party, knocking Nightshade down.

The double-doors Khazad had been knocked into opened slowly on their perfectly balanced hinges, the momentum from the crusader imparted in the stone doors. Khazad slowly stood up, one hand to his chain-mail coif, as though he had a concussion.

The statue began to take slow, lumbering steps towards the crusader, who was the only one of the party in the room.

Kander yelled, "Khazad!" and threw the light-giving coin into the hallway behind Khazad. The sorceror's move lit the way for the dwarf, so that he could run away from the statue bearing down upon him.

Khazad did not want to run away from the statue bearing down on him.

Reft nearly passed, only one hand on the wall and the wolf pups around his knees keeping him from sliding to the floor.

Learellian helped Tambre quickly to her feet, and then they sprinted into the room with the hammer and pick-axe wielding statue.

The statue turned its head, the light from its eyes giving the scene an eirie look. It took a viscious swing at Learellian, and the bladesinger barely danced down into a limbo move in time to save himself from the hammer. The pick-axe swung overhead, and then down towards Tambre.

She brought Swift and Wind up in a cross, deflecting the blow to one side of her head. Blood streamed from under her white hair as she reeled back from the statue. She screamed, "Tempus, aid us!"

The statue jolted, as Shieldcrusher slammed into it. A whole plate of stone armor slid off of the statue to fall onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Khazad grinned as the statue turned its attention back to the him. He said, "Bring it."

Nightfire jabbed the statue in the side, sending chips of stone and rock flying across the room in a deadly hail. Kaladin shielded his face with his arms, as did Kander and Reft.

Tambre rushed the statue, one foot leveraging her high into the air, where she banged on the statue in a fast stacatto burst of strikes; stone hail flew from the statue's arms and shoulders, and it turned around to face the warrioress, once again putting its back to Khazad.

Nightshade appeared from nowhere, pulling her hands apart. Learellian, Tambre, and Khazad fell back as the blade of light between her hands grew into a two-handed sword. In one quick motion, the priestess of Selune swung the sword of light, and the dwarven statue shattered into a thousand pieces, pelting everyone with dust and debris.

Kaladin, utilizing the same spell of haste that he had cast at the Keep To Yourself, sped down the hallway with the lit coin. The hallway turned to the left after forty-nine feet, and the antithief halted. At the end of that hallway was another set of double-doors similar to those in the octagonal room, the only difference being that they were made of iron, instead of stone.

The antithief let the spell of speed fall away from him, and he began examining the hallway in close details, for both traps, and clues as to what might be behind the iron doors -- without opening them.

Tambre and Learellian joined him, as Kander, Khazad, and Nightshade examined the remains of the stone statue. Reft leaned against a wall, shuddering. Guess the adventuring life is not for him.

There were odd stress marks in the tiles, in certain places. Kaladin examined the tiles in the octagonal room, and could not find the same stress marks, even where the stone statue had walked. Returning to examine the stres marks in the tiles, Kaladin was at a loss to explain them; they were seemingly in random positions, and he could find no traps in the ceiling or the floor to explain them.

Finding no answers, they returned to the octagonal room, and slowly opened the great double-doors that had been across from them. Kaladin took his bearings, trying to remember north and south. If the group had come in from the south, and the six bejeweled sets of double doors and the tripartite key hall were arranged in the south, then the hall with the stress marks on the floor, and the iron door, was in the east.

As Khazad, Tambre, and Learellian muscled the doors to the north hall open, the others prepared for more stone statues that might animate.

Instead, the doors revealed a hallway. Far down the hallway was a figure in full plate armor, but the figure either did not see them, or it ignored them.

Kaladin's vision suddenly leapt the hundred feet down the hallway, and he saw that there was no one in the armor. The armor stood there, by itself, with a massive two-handed sword in its hands. Just behind the suit of armor was another double-door made of iron.

The antithief said, "I'm not going down that hallway."

Learellian, beside him, Nightfire in hand -- did not argue. "Let's look behind the other doors."

They moved back, ignoring the empty armor, as the armor ignored them.

The west set of doors from the octagonal room was as well balanced as the others, and took little effort to move. The doors weighed a considerable amount, though, and so took a great deal of effort to get moving.

Though Kander's enchanted coin barely reached forty feet down the hallway, but it was enough to show a break in the wall, to the right. The hallway continued on, beyond the break.

Kaladin's vision leapt foreward, again; fighting nausea, the antithief took a good, hard look. The hallway branched off to the right, and to the north, after about ninety-eight feet. Standing in the midst of the hallway, such that it could 'see' down both halls, stood another of the suits of full plate with no one in it.

Unlike the other suit of armor, that one turned, moving, and marched out of sight to the right, and to the north.

Kaladin whispered, "It's a set of stairs, there on the right."

Learellian launched his raven into the hallway, and they all watched the bird slip into the darkness ahead. Instead of veering into the stairs, as Kaladin had thought Learellian would direct it, the bird continued on. It reached the bend in the hallway, and banked down it.

Learellian said, "I see... A flaming skull, of some sort, hanging in mid air. Just below it, is a suit of armor -- but no one is in it!" He covered his eyes, and the tattoo of the raven slowly inked itself into his bicep. "The flaming skull... It rushed forward, and engulfed the raven."

The bladesinger looked a bit wan, as though he would be sick, and Tambre helped him bend over, putting his hands on his knees.

Kaladin suddenly raced down the west hallway before them, and to the stairs. He paused on the stairs, and looked. They were twenty-one feet wide, and marched further down into the darkness than the half-elf's infravision would go.

He signalled back to the others, and Kander's glowing coin began to bob towards him quickly. They all joined him on the stairs, even the wolf pups being quiet at the danger.

Kaladin moved down the stairs slowly, looking for any signs of tricks, such as tripwires, loose stones that might herald pressure-plates, and other things.

The going was slow, but after some time, he reached the bottom of the stairs. Set along the base of the stairs on either side, were two smaller doors that looked not to have moved in millennia. The stairs opened out into a long, rounded room. At the other end was a solid stone pedestal of granite, and atop the pedestal, was a closed book with sheet-metal covers.

The walls of the room were several mosaics, depicting dwarves, humans, and elves in battles against beholders.

The mosaics seemed to be a linear depiction of events, and Reft and Learellian were fascinated with them, moving from one to the other, reading and examining them. Kaladin swept the room, his gaze going over the eighteen mosaics in quick succession. The last mosaic showed a wolf, howling at the moon, an open crevass in the earth, and six adventurers whose details were hidden by shadows.

Kaladin felt another grain of sand drop from his mental hour-glass like a boulder.

Learellian nudged the antithief, and said, "Check the pedestal? The book could be trapped."

Kaladin nodded, and looked the pedestal over very carefully. He examined the book in great detail, without touching it. He pulled out his magnifying lens, to double-check his vision, and nodded to himself. "No mechanical traps, that I can find."

Khazad said, "None magical that I kin see, but then, I haven't opened the book, yet."

Learellian nodded. "Get back on the stairs. I'll open the book from a distance, with a spell."

The others quickly complied, getting onto the stairs. It was then, that Kaladin noted soemthing -- on the stairs, he could hear nothing, not even his own breathing. He moved up, to stand just to one side and behind Learellian, and he could suddenly hear.

He shook his head, realizing that it was an enchantment upon the stairs, and perhaps upon the hallways outside of it. An enchantment of silence. They would have to watch the stairs, for they would never hear anyone moving down them.

Learellian completed his cantrip, and opened the book from a distance with his arms outstretched.

Of a sudden, the book radiated light brighter than Kander's coin. From the pages of the book itself rose a small spectre made of fire. It was tiny, little larger than the tome itself, and it appeared something like a halfling and a dwarf, rolled into one. It giggled, and pointed a finger at Learellian.

From the creature's finger shot a thin beam of light that crashed into Learellian's chest. The bladesinger jerked, and then his eyes rolled back into his head. Nightfire fell to the ground with a loud clang.

Kander leapt off the stairs, and said, "Back, tome guardian, back!"

Kaladin leapt atop Learellian, to prevent the creature from striking the bladesinger, again, with the beam of heat and light. Learellian was breathing, slightly and shallowly, as though he had been poisoned. Kaladin looked up, and saw that his motion had distracted the fiery imp from Kander. The being pointed its finger at Kaladin, and giggled.

The antithief felt his heart race, and then his body went limp atop Learellian's.

Again, he floated over his body atop the Sylvan elf's.

Another grain of sand fell from his hour-glass.

Tambre leapt forward, her armor blurring. Swift and Wind blew the flames back from the creature's body, but it continued to hover in midair, cackling hideously. As Swift clove through the air, it dove aside, its expression annoyingly comedic. The monster thought that the White Wolves were entertaining -- and little else.

Nightshade rushed forward to check on Learellian and Kaladin. Khazad buzzed into the room, using his boots' powers of speed, and swung at the imp.

The imp let out a, "Whoop!" and dodged aside from his blow -- right into Tambre. The imp grinned, and dodged aside again, giggling.

Kander shouted, "Shut up!" and lifted both his hands. From their tips, magical bolts of energy hurled into the imp, and where it struck, the fires from its skin hissed and crackled.

The flaming imp pointed at Kander, and a thin beam of light struck the sorceror in the chest. Kander fell to his knees as his eyes rolled back into his head. Then he fell flat to the floor.

Tambre hit the imp from behind with both Swift and Wind, knocking it through the air. The creature halted its flight, saying, "No!No!No!" Nightshade swung her mace at the creature, and it dove aside, flying through the air as though it had never set foot on the ground.

Khazad swung at it wildly, trying to strike it, but Shieldcrusher could not seem to hit it. The imp chortled happily, and aimed a finger at Tambre. When the light struck her, it burned her armor, leaving a charred mark. The warrioress fell to her knees, Swift and Wind falling beside her. A moment later, she, too, fell unconscious.

Khazad shouted, "Clangeddin's might!" Shieldcrusher smashed the small imp into the floor, a shockwave from the battle-axe extinguishing the creature's fire. The body of the thing appeared as blackened and burnt as a piece of meat, for it had no eyes, and was only a small husk of a creature. Smoke roiled off of it.

The crusader stepped through the smoke, and crossed to Tambre.

Nightshade pulled Kaladin aside, checked for his pulse -- and seemed to find one.

Kaladin puzzled over that, as the drow priestess checked on Learellian.

Reft was a gibbering mess -- Pale and Moon were herding him, keeping him from wandering off.

A moment later, Kaladin opened his eyes. At least, to him, it seemed like a moment. Nightshade patted his cheek, gently waking him. "How do you feel?"

He blinked, sitting up against the wall. "Wretched. How long as I out?"

She smiled, her gray eyes searching Kaladin's eyes. She nodded to herself, and said, "About forty minutes. The creature's energy poisoned you; that's what knocked you out."

Kaladin glanced at Tambre, where Khazad had her propped up against his knee.

Nightshade -- N'yssara -- said softly, "She took a bad burn from the thing. But I think she'll be all right. You going to make it?"

Kaladin smiled weakly, desperately wanting to tell her no, but he smiled, and said, "I'll make it."

The drow priestess smiled, and then rose. She moved over to Tambre, and helped Khazad with her.

Kaladin glanced around. Learellian and Kander were carefully looking at the book on the pedestal, discussing it in quiet terms.

From behind one of the mosaics in the walls opposite him, Kaladin could see an image of his mother, that none of the others could see. She mouthed the words, "It's time."

He closed his eyes, and shrugged his pack off. He pulled from it, his journal, and his ink. He realized that he was still borrowing a quill from Kander, and called softly, "Kander?" The sorceror looked up, and Kaladin asked, "Can I borrow your quill?"

The image of Kaladin's mother was gone.

Kander nodded, pulling the quill from his robes. He quickly crossed the room, to hand the quill to the antithief, and then turned, moving back to the pedestal to study the book with Learellian.

Kaladin glanced through his journal. The last week, as the party had marched hard for the Temple of the Blooded Moon, he had been staying up late at nights, copying and writing and inking as much as he could. He was so tired.

He turned the pages slowly, coming to the last entry. It was a drawing of the Earth-Sky pass, as seen before they entered the cleft in the mountains.

Kaladin began to ink in a rendition of the Temple of the Blooded Moon, letting his perfect memory draw the image forth to his hands.

As he inked, Tambre roused. She was weak, and Khazad helped her sit up further. Nightshade held more water to the warrioress' lips, her back to Kaladin.

The antithief finished the rendition of the temple quickly, and then turned the page. He wrote, there, what he could not tell them. "Good bye. May your shades be free of shadows."

He signed his name, and slowly, gently closed the book.

Tambre looked at him, of a sudden, her light eyes finding him over Nightshade's shoulder. Her frown was a questioning one.

Kaladin pulled the hood of the shadowcloak up, and leaned back -- back into the shadows.

* * *

His mother's visage said, "Welcome, Kaladin."

Kaladin nodded. He was dressed in greens and golds, not the black of his mortal body. His soul was clothed in what he was, and who he had been. "Will they be all right?"

The Lady of Joy smiled. "With a bit of help."

Clutching at straws, as the maroots herded other souls about on the Fugue Plains, Kaladin asked, "Help?"

The eyes of his mother's visage twinkled. "Nay, Kaladin; you may not return. Thou art dead." Her lips were firm, as she said, "To thy friends, however... To the mortal realm -- the shadows shall perhaps become a more welcome place."

Kaladin did not dare question the goddess what she meant, and so simply nodded. "How can I serve?"

The Lady of Joy smiled softly, as a column of light swept down from the heavans. The column surrounded Kaladin, and several other followers of Waukeen. She said softly, "Thou hast already begun."

Epilogue of the Kaladin Chronicles

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