The masked witches

The murky figure shook its head and said, So declares the ant, imagining it s surveying all the wide world from the top of a blade of grass. But you don t see what I do. If a vampire clan keeps a herd of human cattle somewhere else in the land you call Thay, for example you and I have no practical reason to care. But this country has always been unique, and even after the death of the Lady of the Seven Stars, it remains so. This is still where the fey worlds and the mortal sphere interpenetrate more closely than anyplace else, and if your undead intruders take it for their own, their victory may strike echoes and reflections. That may even be why they came here, although I doubt they possess such depth of comprehension.

Vandar smiled a crooked smile. You re right, he said. The ant doesn t understand, or at least, not much. But I take it you agree that my friends and I are doing something worthwhile. That being so, will you help us?

I ll call back my anger, certainly, said the apparition.

Vandar hacked for so long and hard that he felt like he might pass out for lack of breath. But when the fit ended, his head and chest felt clear, as though he d expelled every particle of phlegm. And nothing ached anymore.

Thank you, Vandar said. He hesitated, and then, impatient with his own caution, pushed onward. Truly. But is that it? All you did is cure the sickness you gave us yourself.

The phantom smiled. Or perhaps it was simply a trick of the light, as a wisp of cloud drifted past the moon.

Did I find something to like about your kind once, for a moment or two in the morning of the world? it said. Perhaps and it may be more than chance that led you here to disturb my rest. Even more unlikely things have happened, I suppose. But I m not like your Stag King. I no longer march to war. My own vows would scrape me to nothing if I tried. But that means I no longer need what I once carried to war.

The apparition waved its hand. Something rumbled, and a patch of snow collapsed in on itself. Or rather, Vandar realized, peering, it was falling into a hole like a deep and irregular grave that had opened beneath it.

Climb down, the phantom said.

Wonderful, Vandar thought. According to every word on the subject he d ever heard, simply treading on a fey mound was dangerous. Entering one was a hundred times more so. Still, the phantom itself had opened the way, and if it meant to do him further harm, it scarcely needed to be tricky about it. It already had him at its mercy.

Besides, what sort of berserker, let alone a berserker chieftain, refused a dare?

Clinging to pieces of the frozen earth, Vandar clambered downward, and shadow swallowed him. The only remaining light came from the stars directly overhead and their gleam on the snow below. That was why it wasn t until he reached the bottom that he realized the starlight was glinting on more than snow.

Once, he thought, a body might have rested in the hole. But if so, time had obliterated every trace of bone, flesh, hair, or clothing, or at least every one he might otherwise have noticed in the dark. But, not corroded, tarnished, or even dirty, were a long spear and broadsword that remained. They appeared to be made entirely of some strange crimson metal, even the shaft of the spear.

The sword s scabbard had fasteners to clip it on his hip. The spear was more awkward to manage, but by ru

What do you think? asked the apparition, irony keen as any blade in its voice. Are the arms worthy of an Iron Lord in waiting?

Making sure not to point it at the phantom, Vandar lowered the spear into a guard position. Though he was far more proficient with a sword, even he could feel how light and perfectly balanced the weapon was. It seemed awake and eager in his hands, an instrument capable of killing even dragons and demons as required.

I m no Old One, he said, but even I can feel these are full of magic. What do they do?

I can t tell you that, the guardian said, because the weapons behave differently in every set of hands. They magnify what you already are. Knowing that, do you still want them?

Of course! Vandar exclaimed. Except for a place in my lodge and the griffons I ve never wanted anything more. He bowed as deeply as he was able.

And I thank you with all my heart.

As well you should, replied the phantom. And now you have everything I had to give. Well, except advice. I told you I don t see everything. No one does, not the wisest prophet in the bright world or the cleverest seer in the dark one. But now that I m taking an interest, I see something.

Vandar had grown at least a little accustomed to the spectral presence of the guardian, but suddenly his mouth went dry all over again. What do you see? he asked.

I see treachery and murder flying down from the sky. I see that you shouldn t trust the outlanders.

Vandar opened his mouth to ask for more, but before he could, the guardian vanished. The gap in the earth closed at the same instant, just as swiftly, silently, and completely. If not for the spear in his hand and the weight of the blade hanging on his hip, he might almost have wondered if the conversation had only been a dream.

His feelings were mixed as he strode back down the mound. Naturally, a part of him was jubilant. There would have been cause for joy if the guardian had simply lifted the curse, but it had done much more. It had given him enchanted fey weapons and as much as prophesied that he would win the griffons and rise to be a great man in the days to come. And when his brothers spotted him descending and started cheering, their vigor restored, it made the moment even sweeter.

Yet even so, when his own gaze fell on Cera and Jet, he felt a pang of disquiet.

It wasn t difficult to believe that Aoth and Jhesrhi might ultimately play him false. Fighting for coin instead of kin or hearth, sellswords were little better than bandits, and dishonorable by definition. In addition to which, the war mage plainly thought himself above everyone else why else did he constantly try to order others around? The tall, slender elementalist was as cold a woman as Vandar had ever met, even if she did have fire ru

But Cera was the servant of a god, and he liked her friendly conversation, saucy jokes, and general good cheer, as well as her willingness to take a turn at performing the various chores camp life required. She made a striking contrast to Yhelbruna s grim taciturnity on the trek into the High Country. And Jet was the living emblem of courage and fidelity as the Griffon Lodge defined them.

Still, the griffon was also a winged war steed, and when his Thayan master commanded it, he could plunge down from on high and kill a man like a falcon killing a rabbit.

I ll watch them, Vandar resolved. I ll watch and see what happens.

Mario Bez looked on as two of his crew examined the weathered menhir by the silvery glow of conjured phosphorescent orbs. One of his experts to give them more credit than was probably their due was a tubby-horned runt of a tiefling warlock who claimed considerable knowledge of the denizens of the lower worlds. The other, in spiked gauntlets and a red-trimmed jupon, was a human priestess of Tempus the Foehammer. In theory, she would provide the insights of an exponent of divine magic, as opposed to the arcane variety that the tiefling, Bez himself, and a dozen others aboard the Storm of Vengeance practiced.

It was a cold night, with a frigid wind whistling down from the higher peaks, and Bez s scholars had been at their task for a while. The skyship was presently anchored on a broad ledge on the mountainside above the standing stone, and those of the mining village far below it. The lights burning aboard her taunted a shivering son of the Shining South with the possibility of warmth. Still, nipping at a flask of Sembian brandy, Bez managed to curb the impulse to urge his subordinates to hurry. Nothing good could come of that. Instead, he comforted himself with the reflection that at least the stone wouldn t suddenly run away and hide.