"Beware the cult, indeed" Narm said ruefully. "We have fought them half a dozen times or more already, if you mean the Cult of the Dragon."
"Aye," Gorstag said, "I do." But he said no more, for Shandril was gaping at him, flame flickering in her eyes.
She calmed herself and asked quietly, "Please, Gorstag, who were my parents?"
"The sage did not tell you?" Gorstag asked, gaping at her in his turn. "Why, your mother was a companion-at-arms of mine. We were adventurers together, long ago: Dammasae the Incantatrix. If she had a last name, I never knew it. She was born in the Sword Coast lands. She would not talk of herself."
"Are you-my father?" Shandril asked softly. Gorstag chuckled.
"No, lass. No, though we were good friends, Damm and I, and often held each other by the campfire. Your father was Garthond. A sorcerer he was, by the time
he died, Garthond Snessair. I never knew where he was born either, but in hisyouth, he became apprentice to the mage Jhavanter of Highmoon.""A moment, if you will," Lureene said gently. "This grows confusing. Let me goto the kitchen. Gorstag, pour ale, and tell your story as a story. If you askquestion upon question, Shan, it grows as tangled as a ball of wool.Shandril nodded. "You have told me the two things I wanted most to know.Unfold the rest as you see best, and I'll try not to break in. By the gods, master,whydid you not tell me all of this before? Years I've wondered and worried anddreamed. Why didn't you tell me?""Easy, lass. And I am not your 'master.' You are your own master, now."Gorstagwas solemn. "There were good reasons. Folk were looking for you, even then,and asking me where you came from. I never wanted to tell you a He, girl, notsince I first brought you here. Oh, you had wise eyes from the first. I could not sayfalse to you. I knew that these same prying folk asked you and the othergirlsquestions when I was not about. If you knew the truth, they'd have tricked ordrawn it out of you."So I said nothing of it to you, and let the rumors of my fathering you passunchallenged, and waited for you to be old enough to tell. You are that, now,and past time. I'm sorry you had to run away to find your adventure. Thefault was mine, not to have seen your need sooner, and made you happier/'"No, Gorstag;' Shandril said. "I've had nothing but good from you, as thegodswitness all, and I blame you not. But tell me the tale of my parents, please.I've waited many a year for such news.""Aye. Well, then. Enough of dates, and all. We can puzzle that out later.Here's the backbone of the tale. Garthond, your father, was an apprentice of the mageJhavanter. "Jhavanter, and Garthond with him, fought several times against the Cult ofthe Dragon in Sembia hereabouts. Jhavanter held an old tower on the easternflanks of the Thunder Peaks, which he called the Tbwer Tranquil. Garthond dwelt there withJhavanter until mages of the cult destroyed Jhavanter in a fight. After that,Garthond continued his studies-and his feud with the cult. "At every turn he would work against them, destroy their lesser mages, andterrorize any among them not protected by art. He grew in power, Garthonddid,and survived many attempts on his life by the cult. Eventually he rescued theincantatrix Dammasae from cult captivity-they had her drugged, bound, andgagged, in a caravan heading to one of their strongholds."Dammasae had adventured with me and others before this. She had become known for a natural power she had-a power she wanted to develop, by practice andexperiment. She could absorb spells and use their force of art as raw energy,held within her. She could use her power to heal, or to harm in the form offiery blasts. The cult took her to learn the secrets of spellfire for their own use, or at least control her use of it to further their own schemes. No doubt,if they seek you now, it is for the same reasons.""That," Shandril agreed softly, "or my destruction. But please, Gorstag, sayon!" Tb know her life at last! Her eyes were moist as Narm put his armsaround her shoulders comfortingly.Gorstag took down his axe from behind the bar and lowered himself into achair facing hers, laying the axe near at hand on a table beside him. He turned hischair so as to better see the front door. Outside, moon-dappled mist driftedpast the windows."Well," the innkeeper continued, "Garthond rescued Dammasae and protected herand worked magic with her . . . and they came to love each other. Theytraveled much, seeking adventure as many of we fools do, and pledged their trothbefore the altar of Mystra in Baldur's Gate."Here I must leave what I know occurred and relate to you some guesswork-of myown, of the sage Elminster, and of some others. We believe that a cult mage, one Erimmator- none know where his bones lie now to question him-cursed Garthondin an earlier battle of art. The curse bound a strange creature called a balhiirfrom another plane of existence"-Shandril gasped, and Narm nodded grimly-"insymbiosis with Garthond. Perhaps it was a cult experiment to find thepossiblepowers of any offspring of a spellfire wielding incantatrix's union with a mage'ridden' by a balhiir.""I fear so," Narm replied. "But your tale, Gorstag ... what happened aftertheywere wed?" "Why, the usual thing betwixt man and maid," Gorstag said gruffly. "InElturel they dwelt, then, in quiet. In due time a babe-a girl, one ShandrilShessair-was born. They did not return to the Tower Tranquil and the dales, where the cultwaited in strength and the danger to their babe was greater, until she wasold enough to travel. Eight months, that wait was."Gorstag shifted in his chair, eyes distant, seeing things long ago. "Theyrode with me. East, overland, we went, and the cult was waiting for us, indeed."The innkeeper sighed. "Somehow-by art, likely-they knew, and saw through ourdisguises. They attacked us at the Bridge of Fallen Men on the road west ofCormyr."Garthond was thrown down and utterly destroyed, but he won victory for hiswife and daughter, and for me. That day he took nine mages of the cult with him,and another three swordsmen. He did not die cheaply."He was something splendid to see that day, Shan. I've not seen a mage workart so well and so long, from that day to this, nor ever expect to. He shonebefore he fell." The old warrior's eyes were wet again, as he stared into dim night and saw memories the others could not. "Dammasae and I were wounded-I the worse, but she could bear hurt less well.She carried less meat to lose and twice the grief and worry, for she feared most,Shan, for you. The cultists were all slain or fled from that place, and werode as fast as we could to High Horn for healing. We made it there, and Dammasaehad some doctoring. She needed the hands and wisdom of Sylune, though, and wecould not reach Shadowdale in time. "Your mother is buried west of the dale, on a little knoll on the north sideof the road, the first one close to the road west of Toad Knoll. A place holy to Mystra, for she appearedJ there to a magister once, long ago."Gorstag looked down at the flagstones before his chair. "I could not saveher?' he added simply, old anguish raw in his voice. Shandril leaned toward him,but she said nothing."But I could save you," the warrior added with iron determination. "I didthat." He caught up his axe and hefted it."I took you on my back and went by way of the woods from Shadowdale south toDeepingdale. It was in my mind to leave you with elves I knew and try to getinto the Tower Tranquil to get something of Garthond's art and writings for you,but I was still on my way south when elves I met brought word that the culthad broken into the tower and plundered it, blasting their way into its cellars.Then they used the great caverns they'd created as a lair for adracolicn-Raugkrthgor the Proud- whose hoard had outgrown his own lair."So I counted on my obscurity in the eyes of the cult-that few who had seen me riding with Dammasae and Garthond yet lived to tell the tale-and came openlyto Deepingdale, where I used some gems Td amassed on my travels to buy arun-down inn and retire. "I was getting too old for rough nights spent on cold ground, anyway. Few of myformer compamons-at-arms were alive and hale, and an old warrior who mustjoinor gather a new band of younger blades is but asking for a dagger in the ribsat first argument."I brought you up as a servant here, Shan, for I dared not attract attentionto you. Folk talk if an old retired warrior lives alone with a beautifulgirl-child, you know. had to hide your lineage-and, as long as I could, yourlast name- for I knew the cult would be after you if they guessed."That fight at the bridge, you see-they could have slain us all by art fromafar without exposing themselves to our blades and spells for anything near so high a cost, if all they'd wanted was us dead. No, they wanted you, girl, you or yourmother. I let them have neither! It was the greatest feat I ever managed,down all those years of acting and watching my tongue and yet trying to see youbrought up proper. "For they've kept nosing, all these years, the cult andoth*
ers. I suspected your Marimmar, Nairn, of being yet another spying mage-whoknows, now? Some, I think, were fairly sure, but they did not want to fightrivals for you unless you were the prize, so they watched closely to see ifyou'd show some of your mother's powers. I dreaded the day you would. If it were too public a show, I might not have time to get you to the elves or theHarpersor Elminster. "I was more wary of the old mage, for it is great mages who fear and wantspellfire the most and will do the greatest ill to get it. Even if I had thetime to run, then, I might not have the time to get Lureene and the otherssafe away. The cult might well burn this house to the ground and slay all within,if they came to take and found me gone."He shook his head, remembering. "Some days, I was like a skulking miser,lookingfor those coming to plunder under every stone in the yard and behind everytree of the woods and in the face of every guest."Chuckling, he shook his head. "Now you are wed, and I am to be wed, and youwent to find yourself because I would not tell you who you were. And you've comeback, with all my enemies and more besides upon your trail, and you wieldspellfire. And I am too old to defend you.""Gorstag," said Narm quietly. "*bu have defended her. All the time she neededit, you kept her safe. Now all the Knights of Myth Drannor must scramble todefend her! She drove off Manshoon of Zhentil Keep and wounded him perhapsunto death! My Shandril needs friends, food, and a warm bed, and a guard while shesleeps. But if others give her those, it is not she who needs defending nowwhen she goes to war!"Shandril chuckled ruefully. "There you hear love talking," she said, wearilypushing her hair out of her eyes. "I need you more than ever, now. Did younot see how lonely The Simbul was, Narm? I would not be as she is, alone with herterrible power, unable to trust anyone enough to truly relax among friendsand let down her defenses." "The Simbul?" Lureene gasped. "The Witch-Queen of Aglarond?" Gorstag, too,looked awed. "Aye," Shandril said simply. "She gave me her blessing. I wish I could haveknown her better. She is so lonely, it hurts me to see her. She has only her pride and her great art tocarry her on."***** (In a far place, in a small stone tower beneath the Old Skull, The Simbul sat upin the bed where Elminster lay snoring, and tears came into her eyes. "How true,young ShandnL How right you were. But no more!" she said softly. Elminster was awake, instantly, and his hand went out to touch her bare back. "Lady?" heasked anxiously."Wforry not, old mage," she said gently, turning to him with eyes full. "I ambut listening to Shandril speak of me." "Shandril? Are you linked to her?""Nay,I would not pry so. have a magic that I worked long ago, that lets me hearwhen someone speaks my name^and what they say after, for three breaths, eachtime-if they are near enough. Shandril is speaking of me, and my loneliness,and how she wished to know me better as a friend. A sweet girt I wish her well.""I wish her well, too. She is at ease, then, and unhurt,would you judge?""Aye, as much as one can judge." The Simbul regarded him impishly. "But you,lord! You are at ease and unhurt. Shall we see to changing your sloth intosomething more-interesting?''"Aaargh," Elminster replied eloquently, as she began to tickle him, and hetried feebly to defend himself. "Have youno dignity, woman?""Nay-only my pride, and my great art, I'm told," The Simbul said, skingleamingsilver in the moonlight." show you great art!" Elminster said gruffly, just before he fell out of thebed in a wild tangle of covers and discarded garments.Downstairs, Lhaeo chuckled at the ensuing laughter, and began to warm anotherkettle. Either they'd forgotten him, or thought he'd grown quite deaf-or, atlong last, his master had ceased to care for the proprieties. About time, too.He began to sing softly, "Oh, For the Love of a Mage," because he was fairlyconfident that Storm was busy, far down the dale, and would not hear howbadlyhe sang.
These are the sacrifices we make for love, he thought.Upstairs, there was laughter again."It grows early, not late," Gorstag said, as he saw Shandril's head noddinginto her soup. "You should to bed, forthwith- and then it is in my mind, Narm,that you both stay and sleep as long as your bodies need, before you set off on ajourney that is long indeed, with no safe havens anywhere.""We have not told you all yet, Gorstag," Narm said quietly. "We have joinedthe Harpers-for now, at least-and we go to Silverymoon, to the High LadyAlustriel,for refuge and training.""To Silverymoon!" Gorstag gasped. "That's a fair journey, indeed, for two soyoung, without adventurers to aid you! Ah, if I was but twenty wintersyounger!Still, it'd be a perilous thing, even then. Mind you stay with caravans forprotection. Two alone can't survive the wilderness west of Cormyr for long, no matter how much art they command!""We'll have to," Shandril said in a grim, determined voice. "But we will tryto take your advice and stay with the caravans. And if you don't mind, we will sleep over tomorrow. Foes or no foes, I can't stay awake much longer""Come," Lureene said, "to bed, lass. In your old place, in the attic. Gorstagand I'll sleep by the head of the stair, the other side of the curtain. I'mnot leaving you alone while you're here.""Aye," Shandril murmured, rising slowly by pushing upon the table. In thedarkness of the passage that led out to the kitchen and the attic stair, coldeyes regarded them for a last instant and then turned with their owner andfled silently into the dark. So the wench had returned, had she? Certain earswould give much, indeed, to hear speedily of this. . .."Gorstag?" Lureene asked sleepily. "Happy, love? Put that axe down at handhere,and come to bed now." "Aye," Gorstag replied. "There's something I must find first, love." Heducked into the darkest corner of the attic, at the end beyond the stairs, anddraggedaside a chest bigger than he was. He did something to one of the roof beams, down low behind it inthe dust, and part of the beam came away in his hands. He took something from a small, heavy coffer, and then replaced everything as before.Bearing whatever he had unpacked with him in his hand, he came back acrossthe broad boards of the attic floor to the curtain and called softly, "Narm?Shandril?" "Aye, we are both awake. Come in," Narm said in reply, from where they laytogether.Gorstag came in quietly, and lowered something by its chain from his hand toNarm. "Does your very touch drain items of art, Shan, or only when you willit so?" "Only when I call up spellfire, I think," Shandril told him. She gazed at thependant Narm held. "What is it?""It is an amulet that hampers detection and location of you, by means of artand the mind, such as some foul creatures use. Keep it, and wear it when yousleep.Only try to take it off when you must use spellfire, or you'll drain its art.Wear it tonight, and you may win a day of uninterrupted rest tomorrow. I onlywish I had one for each of you-but the dark necromancer whose neck I cut itfrom, long ago, only found the need to wear one."Narm chuckled. "You should have gone looking for hisbrother;'"Someone else had slain him already" Gorstag replied with a grin. "It seemshe liked to torment everyone around with summoned or conjured nasty creatures.Someone finally grew tired of it, walked to his tower with a chib, threwstones at the windows until he appeared, and then bashed his brains out. The someonewas eight years old.""A good start on life," Narm agreed with a yawn, and put the amulet aboutShandril's neck. "This has no ill effects,does it?" "Nay, it is not one of those. Good night to you both, now. You've found thechamber pot? Aye, it is the one you remember, Shandril. Peace under the eyesof the gods, all." The innkeeper ducked back through the curtain. Lureenegrinnedup at him, indicating the empty bed beside her, and the great axe lying onthe floor beside it. "Now close the bedroom door, love, so the gooblies can't come in and get us," she said gently. Gorstag looked at the trapdoor at thehead of the stairs. "Oh, aye," he said, and closed it down, dragging a linen chest over it."There. Now to sleep, at last, or it will be dawn before I've even lain down!"Clothes flew in all directions with astonishing speed. Lureene was rolled into a bearhug, and kissed with sudden delicacy. She chuckled sleepily and patted his arm. "Good night to you, my lord," she said softly, and rolled over. She hadbarelysettled herself before she heard him breathe the deep, slow, and steady drawsof slumber. Once an adventurer, always ... she fell asleep before she finishedthe maxim. It was highsun when Narm awoke. The sun was streaming in the small roundwindows at either end of the attic, and the curtain had been drawn back. Lureene satupon a cushion beside them, mending a pile of torn linens. She looked over atNarm and smiled. "Fair morning," she said. "Hungry?""Eh? No, but I suppose I could be." Narm sat up and looked at Shandril. Shelaypeacefully asleep with the amulet gleaming upon her breast, Narm's discardedrobe clutched in her hands. Narm chuckled and tugged at it. A small frownappeared on Shandril's face. She held hard to it and raised a hand in animperious, hurling gesture. Narm flinched back, but no spellfire came."Shandril," he said quickly, bending close to her. "It is all right, love.Relax. Sleep."Her hands fell back, and her face smoothed. Then, still deep asleep, shemuttered something, turned her head, and then turned it back and murmuredquitedistinctly, "Don't tell me to relax, you ..." and she trailed away intopun-ingsand mutterings again. Lureene suppressed a giggle into a sputter. Narm didlikewise. "Aye, we'll let her sleep some more. If you want to eat, there's a pot ofstew in the taproom, untouched by Korvan's hands, on the hook over the hearth.I've bread and wine here. Go on ... I'll watch her."
"Well, I-my thanks, Lureene. I'll..." He looked about him.Lureene chuckled suddenly, and turned about on thecushion until her back was to him. "Sorry. Your clothes areover there on the chest, if you can live without that rooeShan's so fond of." "Urrr . . . thanks." Narm scrambled out of the bed and found his clothes. Shandril slept peacefully on. Lureene gave him a friendly pat as he climbeddown the stairs past her. He was still smiling as he went down the hall from thestairs, past the kitchen, and came face to face with Korvan. The cook and the conjurer came to a sudden stop, perhaps a foot apart, and stared at eachother. Korvan had a cleaver in one hand and a joint of meat in the other. Narm wasbarehanded and weaponless.Silence stretched between them. Korvan lifted his lip in a sneer, but Narmonlystared straight into his eyes and said nothing. Korvan raised the cleaversuddenly, threateningly. Narm never moved, and never took his gaze away fromKor-van's own. Silence. Then, giving a curse, Korvan backed away and ducked into the kitchen again,and the hallway was free. Narm strode forward without hesitation into thetaproom;and greeted Gorstag as though nothing had happened. Elmin-ster had beenright.This Korvan wasn't worth the effort. A nasty, mean-tempered, blusteringman-all bluff, all bravado. Another Marimmar, in fact. Narm chuckled at that, and wasstill chuckling as he went back past the kitchen door. There was an abruptcrash of crockery from within, followed by a clatter, as if something small andmetal had been violently hurled against a wall.Thiszult cursed as he looked up at the sun. "Too late, by half. They'll beout of the dale and into the wilderness before nightfall! How, by Mystra, Talos,and Sammaster, am I to find two children in miles of tangled wilderness?""They'll stay on the road, Lord," one of the hitherto grimly silent cultwarriors told him. Thiszult turned on him. "So you think!" he snarled. "So Salvarad of the Purple thinks, too, but Icannot believe two who have destroyed The Shadowsil, an af chmage of the Purple, and two sacred dracoliches can bequite so stupid! No, why would they run? Who in Faerun, after all, has the powerto match them? No, I think they'll turn aside and creep quietly about thewilderness slaying those of their enemies they come upon, while the rest of us search futilely elsewhere, until we are all slain or overmastered! I mustreach them before dark, before they leave the road!""We cannot," the warrior said simply. "The distance is too great. No power in the Realms could-" "No power?" Thiszult fairly screamed. "No power? Why think you I follow thesetwo, who felled such great ones! Hah! That which I bear is power enough, Itell you!" He reined in sharply and cast his eyes over the warriors in leather whorode behind him. "Ride after us, all of you-to Deepingdale, and the ThunderPeaks beyond! If you see my sigil-thus-upon a rock or tree, know that we haveturned off the road there, and follow likewise.""We?" the warrior who had spoken before asked him."Aye-you and I, since you doubt my power so much. Trust in it, now, for it isall that stands between you and spellfire!" He gestured at all of them."Halt!" Turning to the warrior, "You, dismount. . . No, leave your armor behind!" Hetouched the warrior, and spoke a word.They both vanished, warrior and mage, in an instant. The other men-at-arms stared. One of the now riderless horses reared and neighed in terror; theother snorted. Quick hands caught bridles. "Stupid beast," one warrior muttered."There's no danger, now. Why'd it take fright?""Because the smell of the man that was on its back a breath ago is gone"another, older fighter told him sourly. "Gone-not moved away, but suddenlyand utterly gone. It would scare you, if you had any wits. A stupid beast, youcall it? It goes where you bid it, and knows not what waits, but you ride to dobattle with two children who have destroyed much of the power of the culthereabouts in but a few days, and know they await you, and still ride intodanger ... So who, of man and mount, is the stupid one?""Clever words," was the reply, but it was made amid chuckles. The reins ofthe two mounts were lengthened so that they could be led, and the warriors hastened on."Is it in your mind, then," one asked the older warrior, "that we ride on ahopeless task?"The older warrior nodded. "Not hopeless, mind you-but IVe seen too many youngand over-clever mages who follow our way-like that one, who just left us-cometo a crashing fall, to think that this last one has any more wisdom or real powerthan the others." "What if I tell Naergoth of the Purple of your doubting words when we return?What then?" asked the one he had rebuked earlier. The old warrior shruggedand grinned."Say the word, if you will. It is my guess you'll be adding them to a reportof Thiszult's death, unless he flees. I've served the cult awhile, you know. Iknow something of what I say, when I speak." His tone was mild, but his eyes werevery, very cold, and the other warrior looked away first. They rode on.A wild-eyed Shandril was buckling and lacing and kicking on her boots for allshe was worth, at the head of the stairs. "We must away," she panted to Narm, as Lureene fussed about her. "Others come ... I dreamed it ... Manshoon, again,I tell you-and others! Hurry and get dressed!""But.. .but. .." Narm decided not to argue and began to eat stew like amadman,wincing and groaning as he burned his lips on hot chunks of meat. Lureenetook one look at him, as he danced about Shandril on bare feet, and fell back ontothe beds hooting in helpless laughter."Forgive me," she gasped when she could speak again. By then Shandril hadstraightened her belt and started down the stairs, and Narm had halted herwith a firm arm to the chest. He handed her the bowl of stew. "-You two," Lureene continued, "but I doubt I shall ever see a mage of power so discomfited! Whhooo! Ah, but you looked funny, gobbling like that!""You should see me casting spells," Narm said dryly. Then he asked, "When didshe awake like this?" "Scarce had you gone down when she sat upright, straight awake, and calledfor you. Then she scrambled up, grabbing for clothes and the tike, all in haste. She dreamed that enemiesfollow fast upon your trail.""She's probably right," Narm said ruefully, and began scrambling for clotheshimself. "Did your art have the desired effect?" Sharantyr asked softly."Yes, Jhessail said heavily. "This dream-weaving's wearisome work. No wonderElminster was so reluctant to teach it to me. Yet, I think I scared Shandrilenough to get her moving before the cult tries again." She lay back in herchair wearily, rubbing her eyes. "Ahhh, me," she said. "I'm ready for bed."Sharantyr arose. "I'll get Merith," she said, but Jhessail shook her head."Nay, nay ... it is sleep I need, not cuddling and companionship . .. youhave no idea, Shar-it is tike a black pit of oblivion before me, I am so tired ..."With that the lady mage of the knights drifted forward into the pit, and wasgone. Sharantyr found a pillow for her head, drew off her boots, wrapped herin a blanket, and left her to sleep.Then she drew her sword and sat down nearby where she could- watch Jhessail,laying it across her knees. After all, it had been overlong since Manshoonhad worked his last mischief in Shadowdale. They kissed Lureene good-bye in excited haste, thrust the empty bowl into herhands, and were downstairs and out through the taproom, and into thesunshine,before they drew breath again.There in the innyard Gorstag stood with their mounts and mulesready-harnessed.The latter two mules of each train bulged suspiciously here and there wheretheyhad not bulged before."Bread. Sausages. Cheeses. Two casks of wine. Pickled greens-this jar, sealedwith clay. A crate of grapes and figs. A coffer of salt. Some torches,"Gorstagsaid briefly. "And the gods watch over you." He enveloped Shandril in a crushing hug/ and swungher up into her saddle. "Carry this," he said, and pressed a bottle into herhands. "Goat's milk . . , drink it before highsun tomorrow, or it may well go bad?'He turned to Narm without waiting an instant, like a swordsman turning from akill in battle, shook the conjurer's hand in a bruising grip, took him byboth elbows and lifted him bodily into the saddle. He then thrust a small, curvedand polished miniature disc of silver into his hands."A shield of Tymora, blessed by the priests in Waterdeep long ago. May itbringyou safe to Silverymoon."He stood looking up at them. "You are in haste," he said gruffly, "and I wasnever one for long good-byes. So fare you well in life-I hope to see youagainbefore I die, and 'you both as happy and as hale as you are now. I wish youwell, both of you." He stretched up to kiss them both. "You have both chosenwell, in each other." He patted the rumps of their horses to start them ontheir way, and raised his fist in a warrior's salute to an honored champion as they called their good-byes.As they turned out of The Rising Moon's yard, Shandril burst into tears. WhenNarm looked from comforting her to wave, Gorstag still stood like a statuewith his arm raised in salute. He stood so until they were out of sight.When Lureene came down to him, standing there, she heard him muttering prayersto Tymora and Mystra and Helm for the two who had gone. When she put her armsaround him from behind, and leaned against the old might of his many-muscledback, she could feel the trembling as he left off praying and began to cry.It was dark in the meeting chamber of the Cult of the Dragon. Only a singleoil-tamp flickered on the table between the two men who were there."Do you really think this boy-mage can defeat Shandril, after she hasdestroyedyour best and most powerful?" Dargoth of the Purple said angrily."No," Naergoth Bladelord replied simply. "Another of our dragons pursues herright now."
"Another dracolich?" Dargoth said in angry astonishment. "We haven't many more sacred ones to lose!" "True," Naergoth said, turning cold eyes upon him. "This one went of its ownwill. I did not compel it or ask it to go to war-but I did not forbid it,either. One does not forbid Shargrailar anything."Dargoth looked at him. "For the love of lost Sammaster! Shargrailar the Darkflies? Gods preserve us!" He sat back, shocked, shaking his head."They will hardly start doing that after all this time," Naergoth said to himdryly, reaching to extinguish the lamp. Darkness descended.Suddenly they were in a place of fragrant vapors, pots, and knives. Thewarrior looked around and snorted. "A kitchen!" At his words, the cook, who stoodwith his back to them over a bloody cutting board, gave a start and whirledaround,cleaver rising.Thiszult smiled coldly at him. "So pleased to see us, Kor-van?"The sour-faced cook struggled to regain his composure; hatred, envy, fear,and exultation chased rapidly across his mean face. "Why, Thisz-""Hush. No names! How long ago did the wench leave?" Thiszult strode forward."Which is the way out of here?""Outside, the back, that way. Or, in front: that way, right into the taproom,then left across it to the front door," Kor-van said. "She and the boy-mageleft but ten breaths back, if that, tou may well be able to catch them if you-""Have horses. Where are the stables?" "Around the side; that way. There's a good strong black, and a stouter butslower bay, down the end, and-""The cult thanks you, Korvan. You will receive an appropriate reward intime." Thiszult strode coldly out into the hallway with a snap of his dark cloak,the warrior at his heels. As the man went out, he drew his broad, stained swordand held it ready in his hand."Korvan," Lureene whispered as she came out of the open pantry, eyes darkwith anger, "do you know those-those folk?"
The cook stared at her, white-faced, for a moment-and then he raised hiscleaver again and went for her, determined. Lureene cast the tin of flour she held athis face and fled out the door, into the hall and then the taproom beyond. Itwas empty.She ran across it, dodging between tables, and burst out the front door intime to see the dark-cloaked mage spur out of the innyard like a vengefulwhirlwind. Before her, in the mud, Gorstag stood with his hands locked about theforearms of the warrior who had come with the mage. They stood straining against eachother, the warrior's sword shaking in his grasp as he tried to force it'between them. Lureene ran as hard as she could toward them, sobbing for breath.Behind her, the front door of The Rising Moon banged open again. Korvan. Herdeath. Lureene ran on, slipping and sliding desperately, knowing she had to warn Gorstag before Korvan's cleaver could reach him.The two men were only ten paces away, now ... now six, now three . . .SuddenlyGorstag slipped to one side arid pulled hard on the man's wrist instead ofpushing against it, and the blade lunged forward-harmlessly past Gorstag'sshoulder. He crashed into the man's chest and drove his fist as hard as he could into the man's throat. Throat, neck, and man crumpled without a sound, and Gorstag turned in time tocatch Lureene about the shoulders and spin her to a halt. "Love?" he asked,and Lureene pointed past him."Korvan!" she gasped. "He serves the cult! Look out!" As she spoke, the cookputon a last burst of speed and chopped at them as he came. Gorstag pushedLureene hard to one side so that she staggered and nearly fell, and leaped away inthe other. The cleaver found only empty air.Korvan looked about, wildly, at both of them-too late, as fingers of irontook him by the neck from behind. The cook staggered and lashed out blindly tothat side with the cleaver-only to have that wrist deftly captured and twisted.Korvan let out a tittle cry and dropped his weapon from suddenly numbfingers.Gorstag wrenched him aroundO bodily until they were face to face."So," the innkeeper said, "so ... first you molest my tittle one ... and now youwould slay my bride-to-be! You threaten me with steel here in the yard, and youserve the Cult of the Dragon-in my own kitchen." His voice was low and soft,but Korvan twisted in his grasp like a frantic, hooked fish, face white to the verytips."This has been coming for a long time," said Gorstag slowly. "But at leastI've learned something about cooking." The hand that held Korvan's wrist let go and darted to his throat, whip-fast, and the two old hands twisted mercilessly.There was a dull crack, and Korvan of the cult was no more.Gorstag let the body fall into the mud grimly and turned to Lureene. "Are youall right, my lady?" he asked. "Is there fire or ruin behind you in The Moon?"Lureene shook her head, wide-eyed. "No, Lord," she said, close to tears. "I am fine . .. thanks to you. We are safe.""Aye, then," Gorstag said, and he looked down the road. "But will Nairn andShandril be? Find me the fastest horse, while I get my axe."Lureene stared at him in horror. "No!" she said. "You'll be slain!" "Leave my friends to die because I did nothing?" Gorstag's face was tikeiron. "Find me the fastest horse!" Lureene rushed toward the stables, tears blurring her sight as she ran. "No,"she whispered. "Oh, gods, no." But the gods did not hear before she reachedthe stables. There was a slow thudding of hooves, then, as Gorstag came back out of theinn with axe in hand. Frightened faces were gathering about the yard.A dwarf on a mud-spattered mule rode heavily in at the gate, and came to asliding halt before Gorstag. The dwarf heaved himself sideways and rolleddown out of the saddle with practiced ease, using the axe he bore naked on hisshoulder tike a walking-stick. Crippled, he leaned heavily on his axe as helimped over to Gorstag. The innkeeper was looking grimly toward the stables,where a worried Lureene was leading out a horse."Well met," the dwarf said to Gorstag. "You are Gorstag?" The innkeeper, who was intent upon Lureene and the* *
approaching mount, looked down in surprise. "Aye, I am.""Have you seen a companion of mine, the adventuress Shandril? She waited ontables here, once," the dwarf rumbled. I hear she rides with a young mage, now,and hurls spellfire.""Aye. I have," Gorstag said, axe coming up. "Who then are you, and what is yourbusiness with Shandril Shessair?" "I am come from Shadowdale," the dwarf said gruffly, looking up at him with agaze as harshly steady as his own. "From Sharantyr and Rathan and Torm of theknights I have heard where Shandril headed and followed on. I am sent byStorm Silverhand of the Harpers and Elminster the sage, and bear a note to ye, totell you to trust me in this. Here; read it. Now tell me where Shandril is, fortime draws on and my hones grow no younger."Gorstag grinned at that as he unrolled the parchment. "Not so sour, SirDwarf. Life is less a trial to the patient.""Aye," the dwarf replied, "most of them lie dead. Tell me where Shandril is!""A moment." Gorstag read the parchment. Lureene brought the horse to hisshoulder, and he moved so that she could read what was written, too:Tb Gorstag, of Highmoon, By these words, well met! The bearer of this note isthe dwarf Delg, once a swordmate of Shandril in the Company of the BrightSpear,just after she left your house. He serves no evil master and bears Shan-dril no ill will; trust us in this-he has submitted to all our tests of art in thisregard, and it is true. The Cult of the Dragon destroyed the. company, and itwas thought only Shandril survived. This Delg, left for dead in OversemberVale,made his way to the shores of the Sember, where he was found by elves andtaken to priests of Jempus. While they were healing his wounds and praying to thegodfor guidance as to what task they should set him in return, a messenger ofTern-pus appeared and said that Delg's task was to defend the girl whowielded spellfire against seeking swords; and so he has come to you for word. *bur part in defendingShandril is done, valiant Gorstag; we tend Dammasae's place of rest andremember. Aid this one as best you can, and you will be honored greatly. Hnishall have then in your debt,Elminster of Shadowdale and Storm Silverhand of Shadowdale Gorstag read it, frowning a little, and then looked up at Delg. "You'vemissed them," he said simply. "They rode west from here some short time ago, now. Amage hostile to them follows them, close indeed.""I've missed them? Then there's no time left to wait about!" the dwarf said,and hobbled back to his mule. "Up!" he commanded it, "and ride like the wind ... or she'll be in trouble again, and in need of old Delg, before we get there!""Willyou not take a faster mount?" Gorstag asked, waving at the horse Lureeneheld. Delg shook his head."My thanks, but how fast would I travel if I fell off it at the first bend inthe road? Nay, I'll stick to what I know, and make haste in my own way. Farethee well, Gorstag. Stay by your lady. It is the greatest adventure you canhave." And he grinned then, and rode away, raising his arm in a warrior'ssalute. Gorstag returned it, watching him go, and Lureene stroked his armthoughtfully and said nothing.After a time Gorstag looked away from the road and said gruffly, "Well, you can put the animal away. We shan't be needing it."Lureene nodded. "Of course," she said, turning, "and there's a little matterof corpses lying about, too . . ."Gorstag growled and went to put away his axe and find a shovel. He carriedthe letter very carefully in his hand, and looked at it again as he went.Shargrailar the Dark circled high above the Thunder Gap, cold winds whistlingthrough the spread, bony fingers that were all that was left of its wings.Shargrailar was the mightiest dracolich in Faerun known to the cult, perhaps* *
the most powerful bone dragon there had ever been. Its eyes were two whitelampsin the empty sockets of a long, cruel skull. It looked down with the coldpatience of a being who has passed beyond the tomb and yet can fly, and itflew lower, watching and waiting.So a human female dared to destroy dracoliches? Death must find her. Luckyshe must have been, and her victims young fools, but still, she must die. She washeaded toward Shargrailar's lair. Armed with spellfire, they said.Interesting.Shargrailar glided among the clouds like a silent shadow, peering at the tinyroad men called the East Way, far below. It had been a very long time sinceShargrailar had been interested in anything.There below, on the road. Two human riders, with mules ... one was female.Silently Shargrailar descended, skeletal head peering. Yes ... yes .. . thismust be her. If not, what matter? What pair of humans could hurt Shargrailar?The great dracolich dove down out of the sky like a gigantic arrow of death,for that is the way of dracoliches. As it descended, Shargrailar could see thatthe she-human was beautiful... it opened bony jaws to give her death, silently,patiently. . .Thiszult rode hard, hauling upon the reins savagely. He had to pass the maidand mage and get ahead of them, to have to time to call up his special magic-orfind a height or their camp, to have some time with them in view to do it. Itwould not do to miss them now-or to get too close and warn them, without hisswordsmen to chase them and bring them to a stand.He thought furiously as he rode. He wore no insignia, and rode alone. There was nothing to say that he was a mage, nor that he wished anyone ill. Yet, he wasriding in brutal haste-dangerous, as the road climbed toward the Peaks, and awarning to anyone that all was not right-especially to a couple no doubt waryindeed, by now, of attacks He slowed his mount, cudgeling his brains for aplan.In darkness they could too easily evade him. Yet, one had to sleep, and theywould halt, to camp. Perhaps then would be the* *
best time to attack, but only if he had their close trail by then andremained unseen. There was no other way.With a sigh, he brought the horse to a shuddering haft, leaped clear and thentied its reins to a sapling before the winded horse could move away. Hechecked what he carried with him. It was all secure. Well and good. A quick glance upand down the road-empty, as far as he could see from here-and he quickly castspells of invisibility and flight upon himself, and leaped into the sky.He was gone before Delg found the exhausted horse and wasted several breathsin puzzlement, as he looked about for traces of anyone leaving the road nearby or continuing on foot, but found nothing. The dwarf shook his head and rode on,thinking of Burlane and Ferostil and Rymel, all dead now, all never to laughwith him again . . . well, perhaps he'd join them soon, if there were hostilemages about. He kicked his mule into reluctant hurry, and watched the roadahead narrowly, his axe ready in his hand."Someone follows us," Narm said, peering back over his shoulder as they rode."Some one?" Shandril asked him. "One? Alone?" "*fes... a child, or one of the short races, on a mule," Narm saiddoubtfully."Seems an odd traveler, to ride alone through the wilderness.""Well, it is an open road," Shandril replied. "It cannot be untraveled, by anymeans." She turned in her saddle. Behind them, the land fell away in gentlehills to the dark woods and Deepingdale, and she thought she could see TheRising Moon, or where it must be. Tears touched her eyes for a moment,again-andthen she saw bony death gliding coldly down out of the sky behind them."Narm!" she screamed, as she kicked heels to her mount and climbed forward onto its neck in sudden, wild urgency. "Get down!"Narm looked, and saw. In frantic haste, he tore Term's gift from his neck andthrew it away. Shandril had one glimpse of his white face before the worldexploded around them.
What in the name of the Soul Forger was that? Delg stood in his stirrups,open-mouthed, as the great skeletal bulk arrowed down out of the sky ahead ofhim. It was like a dragon, but it was a skeleton! It was ... oh, by thelode-luck of the dwarves, it must be one of those dracoliches Elmin-ster hadtold him about! Delg swallowed and sat down in his saddle again. He wasgettingtoo old for this sort of thing....No dwarf stood a chance against that! Nor, he thought grimly, did littleShandril, even if she had married a boy who could cast a handful of spellsand gained some fire magic of her own. The mule beneath him had slowed to a walk as he had sat thinking.Delg booted it mercilessly in the ribs then, waving his axe so that itflashed in the sunlight. "Get you going!" he snarled into the mule's ears. "I'm latefor a battle, and they'll be needing me, never fear!"Thiszult flew low over the trees to one side of the road, the wind of hisflightwhipping past his ears in his haste. He had to find them, and get ahead ofthem. Soon, now . . .There was a flash and roar of flame ahead. Startled, Thiszult veered off to one side, rising in the air for a better look. Were they in a fight? This mightprove even easier than he had thought!A vast, dark skeleton wheeled in the air, and Thiszult gasped in astonishment.A Sacred One! But how did it come to be here? And-who was it? He had never seen one so large and terrible before! As he stared at the dracolich, its coldorbs met his gaze, and it rose toward him. Its skeletal jaws looking somehowamused. But I'm invisible! Thiszult thought in amazement. How can it see me? Or isthat a power of the Sacred Ones?From the great dracolich's maw, a blue-white bolt of lightning leaped andcrackled. Thiszult did not have time to protest that he was a friend beforeit struck him. All his limbs convulsed at once, and he was dead, mouth open tospeak, even before Shargrailar's bony claws struck his body and*
tore it apart. Thiszult's secret, powerful magic fell to earth. It was lostin the trees below. Far away, Salvarad of the cult sighed and turned from his scrying font.Thiszult would never take the Purple now.Shandril got up, grimly. The stink of cooked horseflesh was strong in hernostrUs. Faithful Shield had lived up to her name all too well. Thedracolich's flames had poured strength into Shandril, not harmed her. She only hoped Narmhad survived. Lightning cracked overhead as Shandril ran across the smoking road. She didnot look up; she had eyes only for her man. A heart-twisting, blackened tangle ofhorse's legs met her gaze. Where once she would have turned away, sick, she now ran forward without hesitation, peering anxiously into the smoking slaughter.Narm! Oh, Narm!He had no protection against dragonfire. He could well be dead. Their childwould never know its father ... Shandril snarled at herself. None of that! Find him, first!There he was, moving weakly, half-buried under scorched baggage. He wasalive! Oh, gods be praised!Tears ran down Shandril's face as she knelt beside him, tearing asidesmolderingstraps and canvas with frantic haste. Narm moaned. His hair smoked; the leftside of his face was black and blistered. "Oh, Narm! Beloved!" Shandril wept. Cracked lips moved; lids that no longerhad lashes flickered open. Watery eyes met hers, lovingly-and then looked beyond,and widened. "Look out, love!" he hissed, painfully. "The dracolich comes!" Shandrilfollowed his gaze.The great Shargrailar wheeled directly above them, vast and dark andterrible. For all that it was only empty, hollow bones, the undead creature was awesome. Shandril shivered as she gazed up at its fell might. It turned and dovesilentlydown the sky at them again."Run, Shan!" Narm croaked from beneath her. "Get you hence! I love you!Shandril, go!""No," Shandril said, in tears. "No, lord, I will not!" As the great bony Jawsopened, she carefully climbed forward* *
until she lay gently atop Nairn's blackened body, shielding him as much asshe could. Narm groaned in pain. She braced herself to lift her weight off him,and said softly, "f love you."As the roar of the dracolich's approaching flame grew in the air about them,Shandril put her lips to Nairn's and gathered her will. Then blasting flameswallowed them again."Clanggedin aid me!" Delg muttered, as the mule bucked beneath him. The roadbefore him was one great smoking ruin. A roaring cone of fire had just rakedit again. In a moment the swooping dracolich would be above him. The mule buckedagain. "Oh, blast!" Delg burst out, as he found himself somersaulting forward in the air. His frantic grab for the saddle-horn missed. Well, at least he stillhad hold of his axe. He tucked it close against him so that it would not bechipped in the hard landing to come.So the mule's saddle was empty when the raking claws of Shargrailar swept thepoor beast skyward, rending and tearing. The dracolich let out the firstsound it had uttered in many long years as it rose into the air-a long, loud hissof anger and frustration. It shredded the mule as if it were a rotten rag, andwheeled again. Destroying an enemy had never taken this long before.Shandril desperately drew in all the flame that struck her, and strained toreach the dragonfire that ravaged Nairn's helpless body and draw it into her,too. Through their joined lips she felt the fierce energy flowing; sluggishlyat first, then faster and faster. Gods, the pain! Her lips were seared as if byhot metal; tears blinded her. Her body shuddered at the pain, but she held fastto her Narm as the last of the flames swept over them and were gone.Still energy flowed into her. She realized with a start that Narm's own energywas stealing into her now; she was killing him, draining him to death!Hastilyshe broke their kiss and stared anxiously down at the slack, silent face. Oh,Narm! She had no art to heal him! What had she done? * * Bitterly, Shandril felt the swelling energy burning within her. Her veins were afire; she was bloated with more than she could hold for long. The pain ...Into her mind then came Gorstag's voice, telling of her mother: ". . . toheal or harm . . .!" Heal! Could she heal as well as burn? She gathered hershakinglimbs to lie tenderly upon Narm again, and set her lips to his. Closing hereyes, Shandril willed energy to flow out of her gently, slowly, like acoolingflow of water, through her lips. It did.Through their kiss she could feel her released energies flowing into Narm.She willed it so, fiercely, and felt his feeble heart grow stronger, and his bodybegan to rally. He moved beneath her, struggling to speak.Shandril shed fresh tears as she poured still more energy into her beloved,until he was whole and strong and-Bony claws raked shrieking agony across her back. Shandril was torn free ofNarm and flung to the road beyond by Shargrailar's angry strike. Pain almostoverwhelmed her; she shrieked aloud, flame gouting from her mouth in her agony.Ohhh, Tymora, the pain!She had ignored the strike of another boh of lightning and the numbingimpactsof a shower of magic missiles while healing Narm, but the great dracolichcould slay her this way, destroying her as surely as if she had no spellfire.Shandril twisted and writhed in the dust of the road in her agony. She could feel herblood flowing out of her. Blood, blood ... she had seen more spilled theselast tendays than in all her life before this, and she was heartily sick of it!
Well, now she could do something about it. Shandril opened her eyes andlooked for the dracolich. A fierce anger was upon her. Exultation rose within her tojoin it; she could heal! She could use spellfire to aid as well as to dobattle! On hands and knees, Shandril turned and saw Shargrailar sweeping down again,its cold eyes glimmering at her from its cruel skull, its claws outstretched torend and tear. The onetime thief from Deepingdale met the dracolich's chilling gazeand laughed.From her eyes flames shot forth, in two fiery beams that struck the undeaddragon's own eyes. Smoke rose, and Shargrailar screamed.* *
Bony wings sheared away to one side in agony; Shandril was still laughing intriumph as she spat a white inferno of flames into the blinded dracolich. Itreeled backward in the air, blazing, and crashed to earth.She ignored its snappings and thrashings and turned back to heal Narm.Shandril felt a tingling in her own torn back. She bent her will to cleanse and healherself as she crawled back to join her husband where he lay among all thedead horses. She sighed at the soothing relief from pain that spread across herback. Ahhhhh . . . Her energy was much lessened, now, and Shandril became alarmed as she gave more of it to Narm. She shouldn't have healed herself ... she had too little left,and the dracolich was still dangerous. It was not wasting spells on her anylonger; she could not gain any more spellfire from it. Oh, Tymora! Was herluck always to be bad?No, a small voice said within her, it could be fatal just once-now,perhaps-andall her worries would be over. Shandril got up, hastily, looking for thedracolich. If it clawed her now... She could hear a strange smashing and hollow splintering sound from whereShargrailar had landed. Peering cautiously over the unfortunate horses, she saw an axe rise and fall amid the dracolich's weakly crawling rib cage. Bonechipsflew. The dracolich had already lost its wings and two claws. It was tryingfeebly to turn its head to blast its attacker with flame, but the bones ofits neck were smashed in two places, and smoke still rose from its blackenedskull where Shandril had burned it. A hearty kick sent more pieces of bone flying. The descending boot wasplantedfirmly on one of Shargrailar's claws, and its owner chopped brutally downward."Delg!" cried Shandril in happy astonishment, and then she was laughing andcrying at the same time as. she hurried toward the small, burly figure whosegleaming axe still chopped and smashed methodically up and down thesplinteredbulk of the helpless dracolich.The dwarf grinned up at her. "Well met, Shandril! Long days pass, and you'vegotten into trouble, as always ... only this time you're in luck: Delg's here to lay low your dracolich* O *
from behind!" Then he was swept up into a happy embrace, clear off his feet, beforeShandril let out a whoof of effort and staggered forward to set him down again."Delg! Delg-I thought everyone of the company was dead!" Shandril cried. Thedwarf nodded soberly for a moment before his fierce grin came again."Aye. So did I," he said, beard bristling. "But I've found you at last.""Found me? Do you know what's happened to me? This bone dragon you'redestroyingis but the latest. Scarce a day passes without someone trying to slay usbecause of the spellfire I wield.""Spellfire, aye, so they've all been telling me.""All?" "Aye, Elminster and Storm and the knights and Harpers and all. I rode thelegsof my mule a good two fingerwidths shorter following you. You've becomeimportant indeed, lass, in less time than I've seen most heroes and legendsrise, in my years." The dwarf waved his axe. "So let's see this spellfireagain,before we move Narm somewhere safer" "Well enough," Shandril said, and turned to where the dracolich lay. "Do youknow this one?" "Never seen it before I buried this axe in it" Delg replied, raising aneyebrow."Does it matter?" "No, I suppose not," Shandril replied, and let fly with roaring spellfirethat blasted Shargrailar's helplessly flopping skull to bone shards. As the smokedied away, Shandril looked at Delg and shrugged, expressionless."Beware, Delg, I'm not safe to be near, these days," she said with a sigh."So much killing, since first I left The BJsing Moon. ... Is butchery what allthe legends are built on?""Aye," the dwarf said gruffly, "Didn't you know?" He turned to Narm. "Let'sdragyour lord a goodly distance from all this carnage, and see what we cansalvagebefore sunset." " 'We? You'll come with us?" "Aye, if you'll have me. On your bridal journey, and all."The dwarf looked embarrassed, and then squinted at her defiantly, handstwistingnervously on his axe as he spoke. "I am a friend to you, Shandril, and willstand true by you and* *
your lord. Few enough such you'll find, mark you, and you need but little more in life than good food and good friends. The company's gone now, all save foryou ... so old Delg'll ride with you."If you make it to Silverymoon all well, and are sick of me by then, I'llleave you. I hope you wont be ... it is a trial indeed, when you be my age, befriending pretty girls anew to ride with ... folks get all the wrong ideas,y'see."The old dwarf handed her his axe. "Hold this, while I carry your magehere-easy,lad, you'll feel better soon enough; I know, IVe lived through battles enoughto tell, by now-down the road apiece. The sun waits not for all my talking." Nordid it, but it was a happy camp that sunset.In the morning, the dwarf walked with the young couple as they headed west upinto the mountains. It was a clear day, and the green Dalelands spread outbehind them as they went up the rolling hills toward the Thunder Gap. AH waspeaceful. A lone black falcon soared high above in the clear blue air, andthe day passed on with no attack or hurling of spellfire. Delg told Nairn fiercetales of Shandril's daring with the company, and Narm, recovering, told Delgof the struggle in Myth Drannor and Rauglothgor's lair, and how she blastedapartthe mountaintop. The dwarf looked at Shandril with new respect, and chuckled,and said, "I wont ask you to hold my axe, next time!"Near sunset, on the heights of Thunder Gap, they turned at last and lookedback over the marching trees, and the road dwindling down, down, down from wheretheystood to Highmoon, hazy in the distance."Who could know, looking at it, that this beautiful land could be sodangerous?"Narm asked quietly. Delg looked, and smiled, and said nothing."Never mind," Shandril replied, putting a hand on his arm. "We found eachother,and that is worth it all." They walked off into the evening together, and thought on many mornings ahead as the soft stars came out above them, and were very happy.
THE AUTHOR
* has been a creative editor of DRAGON* Magazine since , and hascontributed over one hundred fifty articles on the AD&.D game to themagazine.The FORGOTTEN REALMS* fantasy setting is based on his own game world, whichhas been used as a setting for gaming and fiction for twenty years.Ed is a frequent contributor to The Campaign Hack, Canada's longest runninggaming magazine, and in the past has edited the White Wall Review literarymagazine. In his home city of Toronto, Ontario, he has been literary editorof Orbit, and co-editor and frequent contributor to the fiction magazine Ibid,He now lives in the country with his lady, over ,000 books, and many boxes of asyet unpublished background lore of the FORGOTTEN REALMS game setting.Attendees of the annual GEN CON* Game Fair know Ed as the winner of the Best Player ofthe AD&,D Open tournament, and for his appearances as the wise old sage,Elminsten