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masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_sporking2. Previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
Warning: This chapter contains the aftermath of the previous chapter's burning scene.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Shadows of Doom! Last time, the chapter was short but still contained Elminster randomly groping Sharantyr and setting a trap that led to a bunch of people getting rather horrifically set on fire, which I guess we were just supposed to automatically assume they deserved because they were Zhents. Today, we follow up with the Zhents and the two Harpers, as well as catching up with Lhaeo and Storm. Also, Greenwood uses a chapter title he already used in Shandril’s Saga… and iirc will be using again before this trilogy is done! Joining us once again will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Six: Fire in the Night
Errezha: Which seems like it would have been a more appropriate title for the previous chapter, all things considered… Prince help us, is Elminster going to burn more people this time? We open with Kalassyn, remarkably still alive, as he comes to. He finds himself lying crumped on the ground, tears in his eyes – I can imagine! – as a Zhentilar bends over him and asks if he’s alive. “Aye,” he said at last, struggling to move stiff, blackened lips. They cracked, with little twinges of pain, but the rest of him hurt far worse. “What—what happened?” Our ostensible hero set a trap for any wizard who happened to be wandering through, and you just happened to be unlucky enough to trigger it – that, in fact, is what happened! And that’s more or less what the Zhentilar says, though he doesn’t know about Elminster, of course. “Fire out of the night, Lord. From a tree next to the guard tree. We’ve surrounded it, but there’s been no sound or movement since the second strike felled ye.” Ah, and so our chapter title… seems to refer to something that happened last chapter. Lovely.
Calassara: Normally, I’d take Greenwood to task for his narrative incompetence – but if it saves us any more graphic descriptions of people being burned to death, I’ll take it! The Zhentilar helps Kalassyn up, and he finally manages to take a look around and isn’t encouraged by what he sees. He was naked, covered with matted grass and burned hair. Behind him, smoke still rose from a ring of grass in front of the calmly glowing, unchanged gate. Within the ring lay the blackened bodies of five … six … no, eight Wolves and, facedown at their forefront, Mrinden. Bones showed here and there in the ashy ruin of the wizard. Kalassyn doubted he’d ever hear that nasty voice snapping orders again. *weakly* Ah. Well. That’s one Zhentarim wizard down for the book, I suppose? But couldn’t Greenwood have at least tried to convince us he deserved it? Looking around, Kalassyn sees more Zhentilar who survived the blast, sitting or standing in obvious pain; he’s also left painfully aware that his superiors, Stormcloak and Hcarla, aren’t going to be happy about this. The scorched smell of overcooked flesh hung sickeningly in the air. Kalassyn knew it would be a very long time before he’d want to eat bacon again. *weakly* Thank you, Greenwood, for that charming description… I think I’m going to be sick…
Errezha: *scooting discretely away* Well, Kalassyn sees the survivors looking to him for orders, so he tells them to find his robes, or whatever’s left of them (you might think that was a rather selfish order, but… I doubt the Zhentilar want to be looking at their naked superior longer than they have to, either). One of the other Zhents brings him the burned rags, and Kalassyn doesn’t in fact put them on, but instead pulls some components out of one of the pockets and starts casting a spell. He summons a fireball – I’m surprised he’s so willing to use that magic so soon, considering… - and uses it to blast the tree where Elminster hid his wand down. And then it falls over and hits the tree where the guard station was, knocking it down too. *applauds sarcastically* Oh, well done! Kalassyn curses, then has to cast a frost spell to put the fires out. Kalassyn watched them for a moment and then matched their fall. The ground, when it rose up to hit him, was surprisingly gentle. And on that note, with our point of view character once again unconscious, the scene ends.
Calassara: We cut to the ranking Zhentilar as one of his men asks him what they should do now. The officer calls some of his men to help him carry Kalassyn back to the barracks, and then leaves the others to watch the portal from a safe distance. In the space of four breaths the dell was empty of the living. Smoke curled and drifted for a time, and the burned tree shifted once and lost a few more branches. Through it all, the amber oval of light glowed and pulsed in patient silence. And the scene ends there. That felt remarkably pointless. We cut to Nordryn, one of the other Zhentarim wizards in High Dale, as he questions why the Zhentilar didn’t stay behind to look for enemies powerful enough to do so much damage and deal with them. Tell me, Sword, however do you expect to live a single night through? If you were that lax in Zhentil Keep, you’d have the bed stolen from under you and wake up as you were falling to the floor, as someone put his blade in your throat to slit it! Well, I might also say that chasing after enemies you know were powerful enough to do such damage to your entire patrol isn’t exactly conducive to long life, either…
Errezha: The Zhentilar just points out that Nordryn wasn’t there, and in the absence of a superior officer he followed the orders he was given for such a circumstance, which… honestly seems like the best option in this circumstance, out of various bad ones. He then says that he hopes Nordryn’s orders will be wiser than Mrinden’s, as it was Mrinden who got them into this mess. And, well, there are certainly worse options here than blaming a dead man who can’t defend himself… Nordryn coldly reminds the Zhentilar that his duty is to obey him, without question or pause; they lock gazes, and the Zhentilar promises that he will. As if saying anything else in this situation would be wise… And so, Nordryn has his orders. “Hear my will, then. All still able to walk will wear and wield what they can, and assemble without delay in the road. I want each to carry two quarrel quivers and two crossbows, one loaded. We march to the gate. There we form a ring, under cover, and each man is to load his second bow and keep both ready. At my order, fire at any target I name. Expect an attack through the gate.” Well, I suppose there are worse orders to give, in the circumstances. He also says that he’s sent word to Lord Longspear already, and if they’re lucky, Longspear will send them healers. Nordryn turns to leave, and when he’s gone the Zhentilar start openly hoping he’ll be more use than Mrinden, though the officer tells them to be quiet. And suddenly, we’re in Nordryn’s point of view, as he thinks about how Warriors were like cattle. They died in head-high piles when you needed them to. They ate and drank too much but could be useful the rest of the time, if you knew how to treat them. Like dogs, they needed proper handling. Well, I suppose Greenwood wanted to make certain we know he is evil, then (not that Greenwood’s heroes are particularly considerate about collateral damage, either…). Also, is he aware that cattle and dogs are rather different animals? Suddenly. Nordryn remembers an old saying, about how mages who walk in darkness… cloak themselves in it and think themselves strong—until the day it swallows them, and they come not out again. He’s disturbed to realize that the person who first said it was the Great Enemy, Elminster of Shadowdale. And on the one hand, I can’t disagree (though I doubt my mother would be particularly enthused, if it was pointed out to her…) but on the other, of course, even the villains have to bow before the wisdom of Elminster! But then Nordryn decides he needs to use the chamber pot (and Greenwood is telling us this why?) and the scene ends.
Calassara: And so, we cut to Storm, as she admits he has no idea where Elminster could be, especially since he could know about any number of portals nearby that could take him literally anywhere. Jhessail doubts Lord Mourngrym will be pleased to learn that there could be any number of back doors nearby that enemies could use to get into Shadowdale, and, well, that is an excellent point. But Lhaeo, who’s there too, just tells her easy, wench (seriously?) and passes her a drink. Storm and Jhessail start fighting over the bottle, and “Ladies, ladies,” Lhaeo sighed, shifting his feet down from atop the table. “Must you spit and snarl like rival kittens?” Now, that’s just condescending. Storm is a powerful bard, warrior and sorceress (and a Chosen of Mystra, if I’m not mistaken) while Jhessail is an accomplished wizard and adventurer. Either of these “kittens” could kill you quite easily, Lhaeo, so perhaps treat them with a bit more respect, hmm? Jhessail, though, just says they’ve always done this… and then they’re interrupted when a large bat flies into the room. An instant later, the bat had become a tall, gaunt woman in a tattered black gown. Her hair and eyes danced wildly, and a fierce pride leapt in her face as she glided toward them. Why, it’s the Simbul! I don’t know why she decided to show up as a bat, but I’m open to ideas!
MG: Well, if she decided to call herself “vengeance” and “the night,” I don’t think the Red Wizards would disagree, at least? Also, Lhaeo canonically has a few levels of wizard (hanging around Elminster all the time must be good for picking up something, at least) but he’s by far the weakest mage at this table, and much, much less powerful than Storm or Jhessail, much less the Simbul, so… keeping a more respectful tongue in his head would probably be wise.
Errezha: You’re referencing something with that bit about the Simbul as a bat, aren’t you? *sigh* Moving on… Storm offers her sister a drink, but the Simbul wants answers first. Storm guesses what about, and tells her how she sent the two Harpers after Elminster; in response, the Simbul casts a spell. A heavy tension grew in the room like dark green smoke, and all the candle flames shrank to steady, watching pinpoints. The Simbul sat at the center of her gathered power, dark and unmoving, and the tension rose to an almost audible roar. Her shoulders shook, she gasped, and the candle flames leapt and flickered again. The room was somehow brighter. And yet, Lhaeo thought, looking at the Simbul’s forlorn and ravaged face, it seemed no safer or warmer. Well, that was dramatic! And apparently whatever it was didn’t work, as the Simbul wants to try again, this time with the others’ supporting her. Everyone leans in, and she tells them all to picture Sharantyr, since Elminster is warded against scrying. Ah, so is this where Elminster being warded against scrying, and keeping Sharantyr near him so she’ll be protected too, is going to come in, I presume? Power swirled around the kitchen. Then the Simbul hurled her questing, searching thought out a long way. She fell, like a fisher’s hook plunging into dark waters, somewhere into a void of seeking where those linked to her could not follow. Finally, she says that her magic is being twisted somehow – oh, is that the Time of Troubles actually mattering? – and that she needs more help and calls for Sylune.
Calassara: Time of Troubles or no, a shimmering ghostly figure appears between the Simbul and Storm; they try the spell yet again. An eternity passed. The candles burned lower. They breathed as one, low and deep. Toril, with awesome slowness, rolled steadily beneath them. Then someone whimpered, and the circle was broken. This… seems like quite the scrying spell, no? But everyone comes back to themselves as the Simbul pitches facedown onto the table. Storm assures everyone that she’s just exhausted, as apparently the spell she tried was extremely difficult, and known to very few mages thankfully, or there’d be mindless mages across half of Faerûn in short order. Does anyone in these books have any sense of self-preservation? Storm takes a long drink and explains to Lhaeo that that really was Sylune they all just saw, and the spell was harder on her than any of them (the poor woman’s already dead! Can’t you let her rest?). The Simbul groggily wakes up and asks if any of the drink is left, which makes everyone laugh as Lhaeo helps perhaps the most powerful sorceress alive in Faerun up. The Simbul explains that they failed, and she has worse news. “All Art in the Realms is going rogue,” the Simbul answered, “for all who wield it, everywhere. We can unleash it, but our control slips and fades, and most of the time is lacking entirely. Magic has gone wild, and we can do nothing, it seems, to stop that. El and Shar are truly beyond our reach and aid.”
MG: That would, indeed, be a consequence of the Time of Troubles and Mystra’s fall, yes (but keep a pin in that for when we start the next book…). And between this and Elminster and Sharantyr currently being both protected from scrying by Elminster’s presence, it seems like Greenwood is going out of his way to make sure the Simbul can’t just teleport to Elminster’s side and solve all the book’s conflicts (because, let’s be honest, she could probably wipe every Zhent out of High Dale with a twitch of her pinky; this woman is scary powerful, as the Red Wizards can attest). On the one hand, at least Greenwood seems to realize for once that his characters are too powerful for this plot and makes sure there’s an actual reason they can’t resolve it immediately… on the other hand, because he’s still a clunky writer at the best of times, it can’t help but feel a little contrived.
Errezha: And so, the Simbul goes on, explaining how across all of Faerun no mage, no matter how powerful, can rely on their magic anymore. *she glances down at her own hands* That’s… unsettling, I must say. Storm explains why. All the gods have been cast down into the Realms to contend among us, struggling and striving as we do. With Mystra gone, there’s none to control magic. It’s why Elminster’s gone away. Lhaeo wants to know who would be powerful enough to do such a thing, and Storm has an answer for that, too. “In the oldest writings he was called the Overgod. Nowadays, to those who know of him at all, he is the ‘One Who Is Hidden.’ ” She smiled. “If you meet him, you might ask his truename and aims. There are a lot of souls, mortal and divine alike, who’d like to know.” Thank you, Storm, that wasn’t helpful at all.
MG: I’m honestly surprised she knows that much. Ao almost never interacts directly with mortals, unless they’re on the verge of ascending to godhood themselves (for example, Midnight and Cyric at the climax of the original Avatar Trilogy). He doesn’t even seem to like mortals to know he exists, and he doesn’t answer prayers. There was even a rather darkly amusing aside in the 3e Faiths and Pantheons sourcebook about how temples, churches and cults dedicated to Ao tend to mysteriously suffer misfortune until they disband, because Ao doesn’t actually want to be worshipped. So, yeah, I’d love to know Storm’s source in this. Mystra herself, maybe? Also, Ao’s “aims” are pretty straightforward – to ensure that the various divine and cosmic forces stay in balance, so Realmspace (Toril’s solar system, also the area of Ao’s dominion) continues to exist. Per most sources, that is literally all Ao cares about. Oh, and by the way, despite not being on the cusp of godhood, Elminster is going to nonetheless get to meet Ao in person before this trilogy is done, surprise, surprise.
Calassara: Jhessail jokes she’ll get right on finding out more about Ao and tries to pour herself more drink, but Storm tells her to hold off on it, since she doesn’t want to have to carry her home; Jhessail suggests she might be the one carrying Storm instead (Isn’t Jhessail married? To someone who isn’t Storm? My, my…) Lhaeo breaks in, saying there’s nothing more they can do, and that Storm needs her sleep (since Storm is a Chosen, I’m pretty sure that technically, she doesn’t need to sleep…) Lhaeo leaves to take Jhessail home; once they’re gone, Storm asks the Simbul if she sensed anything useful. “Nothing. I was like the worst apprentice I’ve ever had—alone, wavering, helpless in the dark.” And then Sylune breaks in that she saw something. “Fire and tears and stars, overhead it seemed, though they were all mixed together. Our stars.” Well, that’s clear as mud! Storm takes it as proof that Elminster and Sharantyr aren’t dead (somehow) and Sylune only says they’re not dead yet, as the scene ends. And I can’t speak for Sharantyr, but since Elminster is apparently still around long after this book is set… I can’t say I think much of that cliffhanger.
Errezha: And so, we cut back to the Daggerdale end of the portal, where two blades… glimmered, leapt, and sang as they dealt death. It’s Belkram and Itharr, fighting seven Zhentilar – you know, boys, I’m hardly an expert, but two against seven does not sound like good odds! Or maybe it is. The men in full armor were strong, hardened veterans, efficient experts at dealing death with cold steel by night or day, in alleys or high streets, in open battle or in crowds. The two men in dusty leathers, however, were Harpers and men who’d just spent some goodly time crossing blades with Storm Silverhand. They knew who’d win this battle. *sigh* Greenwood. It turns out the only thing they’re really worried about is that some of the Zhentilar might escape through the portal and get reinforcements. Because of course they are. And sure enough, within just a few moments, the battle is over and all the Zhents are dead, just like that. Belkram and Itharr take a moment to study the portal, then find a body at its base – the same one Elminster and Sharantyr tossed through. The read the Harper signs on its clothes, know to be wary of traps, and then turn towards the porta. “Remember, adventure is where you find it,” Itharr says – personally, I’d prefer to find a cozy, well-organized study, an interesting book, and a glass of wine, but life seems determined to thwart that simple desire – and Belkram thanks him, and the chapter ends as the two of them step through.
MG: Well, this one was another short one. Mostly, it seemed to consist of Zhents suffering misfortunes, a rather long scene mostly there to establish why the Sisters and the Knights won’t be able to help Elminster and Sharantyr, and then Belkram and Itharr effortlessly killing yet more Zhents, despite being outnumbered more than three to one. Yay. And oh, this chapter makes it very clear the Time of Troubles has already started. Just… just keep that in mind for later. Next time, we check back in with Elminster and Sharantyr, and Belkram and Itharr fight yet more Zhents. We’ll see you then!
Warning: This chapter contains the aftermath of the previous chapter's burning scene.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s Shadows of Doom! Last time, the chapter was short but still contained Elminster randomly groping Sharantyr and setting a trap that led to a bunch of people getting rather horrifically set on fire, which I guess we were just supposed to automatically assume they deserved because they were Zhents. Today, we follow up with the Zhents and the two Harpers, as well as catching up with Lhaeo and Storm. Also, Greenwood uses a chapter title he already used in Shandril’s Saga… and iirc will be using again before this trilogy is done! Joining us once again will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Six: Fire in the Night
Errezha: Which seems like it would have been a more appropriate title for the previous chapter, all things considered… Prince help us, is Elminster going to burn more people this time? We open with Kalassyn, remarkably still alive, as he comes to. He finds himself lying crumped on the ground, tears in his eyes – I can imagine! – as a Zhentilar bends over him and asks if he’s alive. “Aye,” he said at last, struggling to move stiff, blackened lips. They cracked, with little twinges of pain, but the rest of him hurt far worse. “What—what happened?” Our ostensible hero set a trap for any wizard who happened to be wandering through, and you just happened to be unlucky enough to trigger it – that, in fact, is what happened! And that’s more or less what the Zhentilar says, though he doesn’t know about Elminster, of course. “Fire out of the night, Lord. From a tree next to the guard tree. We’ve surrounded it, but there’s been no sound or movement since the second strike felled ye.” Ah, and so our chapter title… seems to refer to something that happened last chapter. Lovely.
Calassara: Normally, I’d take Greenwood to task for his narrative incompetence – but if it saves us any more graphic descriptions of people being burned to death, I’ll take it! The Zhentilar helps Kalassyn up, and he finally manages to take a look around and isn’t encouraged by what he sees. He was naked, covered with matted grass and burned hair. Behind him, smoke still rose from a ring of grass in front of the calmly glowing, unchanged gate. Within the ring lay the blackened bodies of five … six … no, eight Wolves and, facedown at their forefront, Mrinden. Bones showed here and there in the ashy ruin of the wizard. Kalassyn doubted he’d ever hear that nasty voice snapping orders again. *weakly* Ah. Well. That’s one Zhentarim wizard down for the book, I suppose? But couldn’t Greenwood have at least tried to convince us he deserved it? Looking around, Kalassyn sees more Zhentilar who survived the blast, sitting or standing in obvious pain; he’s also left painfully aware that his superiors, Stormcloak and Hcarla, aren’t going to be happy about this. The scorched smell of overcooked flesh hung sickeningly in the air. Kalassyn knew it would be a very long time before he’d want to eat bacon again. *weakly* Thank you, Greenwood, for that charming description… I think I’m going to be sick…
Errezha: *scooting discretely away* Well, Kalassyn sees the survivors looking to him for orders, so he tells them to find his robes, or whatever’s left of them (you might think that was a rather selfish order, but… I doubt the Zhentilar want to be looking at their naked superior longer than they have to, either). One of the other Zhents brings him the burned rags, and Kalassyn doesn’t in fact put them on, but instead pulls some components out of one of the pockets and starts casting a spell. He summons a fireball – I’m surprised he’s so willing to use that magic so soon, considering… - and uses it to blast the tree where Elminster hid his wand down. And then it falls over and hits the tree where the guard station was, knocking it down too. *applauds sarcastically* Oh, well done! Kalassyn curses, then has to cast a frost spell to put the fires out. Kalassyn watched them for a moment and then matched their fall. The ground, when it rose up to hit him, was surprisingly gentle. And on that note, with our point of view character once again unconscious, the scene ends.
Calassara: We cut to the ranking Zhentilar as one of his men asks him what they should do now. The officer calls some of his men to help him carry Kalassyn back to the barracks, and then leaves the others to watch the portal from a safe distance. In the space of four breaths the dell was empty of the living. Smoke curled and drifted for a time, and the burned tree shifted once and lost a few more branches. Through it all, the amber oval of light glowed and pulsed in patient silence. And the scene ends there. That felt remarkably pointless. We cut to Nordryn, one of the other Zhentarim wizards in High Dale, as he questions why the Zhentilar didn’t stay behind to look for enemies powerful enough to do so much damage and deal with them. Tell me, Sword, however do you expect to live a single night through? If you were that lax in Zhentil Keep, you’d have the bed stolen from under you and wake up as you were falling to the floor, as someone put his blade in your throat to slit it! Well, I might also say that chasing after enemies you know were powerful enough to do such damage to your entire patrol isn’t exactly conducive to long life, either…
Errezha: The Zhentilar just points out that Nordryn wasn’t there, and in the absence of a superior officer he followed the orders he was given for such a circumstance, which… honestly seems like the best option in this circumstance, out of various bad ones. He then says that he hopes Nordryn’s orders will be wiser than Mrinden’s, as it was Mrinden who got them into this mess. And, well, there are certainly worse options here than blaming a dead man who can’t defend himself… Nordryn coldly reminds the Zhentilar that his duty is to obey him, without question or pause; they lock gazes, and the Zhentilar promises that he will. As if saying anything else in this situation would be wise… And so, Nordryn has his orders. “Hear my will, then. All still able to walk will wear and wield what they can, and assemble without delay in the road. I want each to carry two quarrel quivers and two crossbows, one loaded. We march to the gate. There we form a ring, under cover, and each man is to load his second bow and keep both ready. At my order, fire at any target I name. Expect an attack through the gate.” Well, I suppose there are worse orders to give, in the circumstances. He also says that he’s sent word to Lord Longspear already, and if they’re lucky, Longspear will send them healers. Nordryn turns to leave, and when he’s gone the Zhentilar start openly hoping he’ll be more use than Mrinden, though the officer tells them to be quiet. And suddenly, we’re in Nordryn’s point of view, as he thinks about how Warriors were like cattle. They died in head-high piles when you needed them to. They ate and drank too much but could be useful the rest of the time, if you knew how to treat them. Like dogs, they needed proper handling. Well, I suppose Greenwood wanted to make certain we know he is evil, then (not that Greenwood’s heroes are particularly considerate about collateral damage, either…). Also, is he aware that cattle and dogs are rather different animals? Suddenly. Nordryn remembers an old saying, about how mages who walk in darkness… cloak themselves in it and think themselves strong—until the day it swallows them, and they come not out again. He’s disturbed to realize that the person who first said it was the Great Enemy, Elminster of Shadowdale. And on the one hand, I can’t disagree (though I doubt my mother would be particularly enthused, if it was pointed out to her…) but on the other, of course, even the villains have to bow before the wisdom of Elminster! But then Nordryn decides he needs to use the chamber pot (and Greenwood is telling us this why?) and the scene ends.
Calassara: And so, we cut to Storm, as she admits he has no idea where Elminster could be, especially since he could know about any number of portals nearby that could take him literally anywhere. Jhessail doubts Lord Mourngrym will be pleased to learn that there could be any number of back doors nearby that enemies could use to get into Shadowdale, and, well, that is an excellent point. But Lhaeo, who’s there too, just tells her easy, wench (seriously?) and passes her a drink. Storm and Jhessail start fighting over the bottle, and “Ladies, ladies,” Lhaeo sighed, shifting his feet down from atop the table. “Must you spit and snarl like rival kittens?” Now, that’s just condescending. Storm is a powerful bard, warrior and sorceress (and a Chosen of Mystra, if I’m not mistaken) while Jhessail is an accomplished wizard and adventurer. Either of these “kittens” could kill you quite easily, Lhaeo, so perhaps treat them with a bit more respect, hmm? Jhessail, though, just says they’ve always done this… and then they’re interrupted when a large bat flies into the room. An instant later, the bat had become a tall, gaunt woman in a tattered black gown. Her hair and eyes danced wildly, and a fierce pride leapt in her face as she glided toward them. Why, it’s the Simbul! I don’t know why she decided to show up as a bat, but I’m open to ideas!
MG: Well, if she decided to call herself “vengeance” and “the night,” I don’t think the Red Wizards would disagree, at least? Also, Lhaeo canonically has a few levels of wizard (hanging around Elminster all the time must be good for picking up something, at least) but he’s by far the weakest mage at this table, and much, much less powerful than Storm or Jhessail, much less the Simbul, so… keeping a more respectful tongue in his head would probably be wise.
Errezha: You’re referencing something with that bit about the Simbul as a bat, aren’t you? *sigh* Moving on… Storm offers her sister a drink, but the Simbul wants answers first. Storm guesses what about, and tells her how she sent the two Harpers after Elminster; in response, the Simbul casts a spell. A heavy tension grew in the room like dark green smoke, and all the candle flames shrank to steady, watching pinpoints. The Simbul sat at the center of her gathered power, dark and unmoving, and the tension rose to an almost audible roar. Her shoulders shook, she gasped, and the candle flames leapt and flickered again. The room was somehow brighter. And yet, Lhaeo thought, looking at the Simbul’s forlorn and ravaged face, it seemed no safer or warmer. Well, that was dramatic! And apparently whatever it was didn’t work, as the Simbul wants to try again, this time with the others’ supporting her. Everyone leans in, and she tells them all to picture Sharantyr, since Elminster is warded against scrying. Ah, so is this where Elminster being warded against scrying, and keeping Sharantyr near him so she’ll be protected too, is going to come in, I presume? Power swirled around the kitchen. Then the Simbul hurled her questing, searching thought out a long way. She fell, like a fisher’s hook plunging into dark waters, somewhere into a void of seeking where those linked to her could not follow. Finally, she says that her magic is being twisted somehow – oh, is that the Time of Troubles actually mattering? – and that she needs more help and calls for Sylune.
Calassara: Time of Troubles or no, a shimmering ghostly figure appears between the Simbul and Storm; they try the spell yet again. An eternity passed. The candles burned lower. They breathed as one, low and deep. Toril, with awesome slowness, rolled steadily beneath them. Then someone whimpered, and the circle was broken. This… seems like quite the scrying spell, no? But everyone comes back to themselves as the Simbul pitches facedown onto the table. Storm assures everyone that she’s just exhausted, as apparently the spell she tried was extremely difficult, and known to very few mages thankfully, or there’d be mindless mages across half of Faerûn in short order. Does anyone in these books have any sense of self-preservation? Storm takes a long drink and explains to Lhaeo that that really was Sylune they all just saw, and the spell was harder on her than any of them (the poor woman’s already dead! Can’t you let her rest?). The Simbul groggily wakes up and asks if any of the drink is left, which makes everyone laugh as Lhaeo helps perhaps the most powerful sorceress alive in Faerun up. The Simbul explains that they failed, and she has worse news. “All Art in the Realms is going rogue,” the Simbul answered, “for all who wield it, everywhere. We can unleash it, but our control slips and fades, and most of the time is lacking entirely. Magic has gone wild, and we can do nothing, it seems, to stop that. El and Shar are truly beyond our reach and aid.”
MG: That would, indeed, be a consequence of the Time of Troubles and Mystra’s fall, yes (but keep a pin in that for when we start the next book…). And between this and Elminster and Sharantyr currently being both protected from scrying by Elminster’s presence, it seems like Greenwood is going out of his way to make sure the Simbul can’t just teleport to Elminster’s side and solve all the book’s conflicts (because, let’s be honest, she could probably wipe every Zhent out of High Dale with a twitch of her pinky; this woman is scary powerful, as the Red Wizards can attest). On the one hand, at least Greenwood seems to realize for once that his characters are too powerful for this plot and makes sure there’s an actual reason they can’t resolve it immediately… on the other hand, because he’s still a clunky writer at the best of times, it can’t help but feel a little contrived.
Errezha: And so, the Simbul goes on, explaining how across all of Faerun no mage, no matter how powerful, can rely on their magic anymore. *she glances down at her own hands* That’s… unsettling, I must say. Storm explains why. All the gods have been cast down into the Realms to contend among us, struggling and striving as we do. With Mystra gone, there’s none to control magic. It’s why Elminster’s gone away. Lhaeo wants to know who would be powerful enough to do such a thing, and Storm has an answer for that, too. “In the oldest writings he was called the Overgod. Nowadays, to those who know of him at all, he is the ‘One Who Is Hidden.’ ” She smiled. “If you meet him, you might ask his truename and aims. There are a lot of souls, mortal and divine alike, who’d like to know.” Thank you, Storm, that wasn’t helpful at all.
MG: I’m honestly surprised she knows that much. Ao almost never interacts directly with mortals, unless they’re on the verge of ascending to godhood themselves (for example, Midnight and Cyric at the climax of the original Avatar Trilogy). He doesn’t even seem to like mortals to know he exists, and he doesn’t answer prayers. There was even a rather darkly amusing aside in the 3e Faiths and Pantheons sourcebook about how temples, churches and cults dedicated to Ao tend to mysteriously suffer misfortune until they disband, because Ao doesn’t actually want to be worshipped. So, yeah, I’d love to know Storm’s source in this. Mystra herself, maybe? Also, Ao’s “aims” are pretty straightforward – to ensure that the various divine and cosmic forces stay in balance, so Realmspace (Toril’s solar system, also the area of Ao’s dominion) continues to exist. Per most sources, that is literally all Ao cares about. Oh, and by the way, despite not being on the cusp of godhood, Elminster is going to nonetheless get to meet Ao in person before this trilogy is done, surprise, surprise.
Calassara: Jhessail jokes she’ll get right on finding out more about Ao and tries to pour herself more drink, but Storm tells her to hold off on it, since she doesn’t want to have to carry her home; Jhessail suggests she might be the one carrying Storm instead (Isn’t Jhessail married? To someone who isn’t Storm? My, my…) Lhaeo breaks in, saying there’s nothing more they can do, and that Storm needs her sleep (since Storm is a Chosen, I’m pretty sure that technically, she doesn’t need to sleep…) Lhaeo leaves to take Jhessail home; once they’re gone, Storm asks the Simbul if she sensed anything useful. “Nothing. I was like the worst apprentice I’ve ever had—alone, wavering, helpless in the dark.” And then Sylune breaks in that she saw something. “Fire and tears and stars, overhead it seemed, though they were all mixed together. Our stars.” Well, that’s clear as mud! Storm takes it as proof that Elminster and Sharantyr aren’t dead (somehow) and Sylune only says they’re not dead yet, as the scene ends. And I can’t speak for Sharantyr, but since Elminster is apparently still around long after this book is set… I can’t say I think much of that cliffhanger.
Errezha: And so, we cut back to the Daggerdale end of the portal, where two blades… glimmered, leapt, and sang as they dealt death. It’s Belkram and Itharr, fighting seven Zhentilar – you know, boys, I’m hardly an expert, but two against seven does not sound like good odds! Or maybe it is. The men in full armor were strong, hardened veterans, efficient experts at dealing death with cold steel by night or day, in alleys or high streets, in open battle or in crowds. The two men in dusty leathers, however, were Harpers and men who’d just spent some goodly time crossing blades with Storm Silverhand. They knew who’d win this battle. *sigh* Greenwood. It turns out the only thing they’re really worried about is that some of the Zhentilar might escape through the portal and get reinforcements. Because of course they are. And sure enough, within just a few moments, the battle is over and all the Zhents are dead, just like that. Belkram and Itharr take a moment to study the portal, then find a body at its base – the same one Elminster and Sharantyr tossed through. The read the Harper signs on its clothes, know to be wary of traps, and then turn towards the porta. “Remember, adventure is where you find it,” Itharr says – personally, I’d prefer to find a cozy, well-organized study, an interesting book, and a glass of wine, but life seems determined to thwart that simple desire – and Belkram thanks him, and the chapter ends as the two of them step through.
MG: Well, this one was another short one. Mostly, it seemed to consist of Zhents suffering misfortunes, a rather long scene mostly there to establish why the Sisters and the Knights won’t be able to help Elminster and Sharantyr, and then Belkram and Itharr effortlessly killing yet more Zhents, despite being outnumbered more than three to one. Yay. And oh, this chapter makes it very clear the Time of Troubles has already started. Just… just keep that in mind for later. Next time, we check back in with Elminster and Sharantyr, and Belkram and Itharr fight yet more Zhents. We’ll see you then!
