CHAPTER 14

SCOUTS’ DISMAY

We cannot just wait here for them to assail us again at twilight!” a young wizard cried, and many others took up that refrain. “We do not even know if that will happen,” reminded Ginance, an older woman, a priest of Cadderly’s order who had been cataloging scrolls at Spirit Soaring since its earliest days. “We have never encountered such creatures as these … these lumps of ugly flesh! We know not if they have an aversion to sunlight, or if they broke off the attack at dawn for strategic reasons.”

“They left when the dawn’s light showed in the east,” the first protested. “That tells me we’ve a good place to start in our counterattack, and counter we must—aggressively.”

“Aye!” several others shouted.

The discussion in the nave of Spirit Soaring had been going on for some time, and thus far Cadderly had remained quiet, gauging the demeanor of the room. Several wizards and priests, all of them visitors to the library, had been killed in the brutal assault of the previous night. Cadderly was glad to see that the remaining group, some seventy-five men and women, most highly trained and skilled in the arcane or divine arts, had not given in to despair after that unexpected battle. Their fighting spirit was more than evident, and that, Cadderly knew, would be an important factor if they were to sort through their predicament.

He focused again on Ginance, his friend and one of the wisest and most knowledgeable members of his clergy.

“We don’t even know if Spirit Soaring is cleared of the beasts,” she said, quieting the exuberance.

“None are out biting at us, the vicious creatures!” the first mage argued. Ginance seemed at a loss to overcome the tidal wave of shouts that followed, all calling for action beyond the confines of the cathedral.

“You presume that they’re mindless, or at least stupid,” Cadderly finally put in, and though he hadn’t shouted the words, as soon as he started talking, the room went silent and all eyes focused his way.

The priest took a deep breath at that reminder, yet again, of his importance and reputation. He had built Spirit Soaring, and that was no small thing. Still, he remained unnerved by the reverence shown him, particularly given that many of his guests were far more seasoned in the art of warfare than he. One group of priests from Sundabar had spent years traversing the lower planes, battling demons and devils. Yet even they stared at him, hanging on his every word.

“You assume they ran away because they didn’t like the sunlight, rather than for tactical reasons,” Cadderly explained, carefully choosing his words. He shook his foolish nervousness away by reminding himself of his missing children, and the missing Bouldershoulder brothers. “And now you assume that if there were any more of the beasts still inside Spirit Soaring, they would rush right out ravenously instead of hiding away to strike at more opportune moments.”

“And what do you believe, good Cadderly?” asked the same young wizard who had been so fiery and obstinate with Ginance. “Do we sit and fortify, to prepare for the next onslaught, or do we go out and find our enemies?”

“Both,” Cadderly replied, and many heads, particularly the older veterans, nodded in agreement. “Many of you did not come here alone, but with trusted friends and associates, so I will leave it up to you to decide on the sizes and dispositions of battle groups. I would suggest both brawn and magic, and magic both divine and arcane. We don’t know when this … plague will end, or whether or not it will get worse, so we must do our best to cover all contingencies.”

“I would suggest groups of no less than seven,” said one of the older wizards.

They began talking amongst themselves again, which Cadderly thought best. Those men and women didn’t need his guidance on the details. Ginance came over to him then, still troubled about the notion that Spirit Soaring might be hosting some uninvited guests.

“Are all of our brethren available after last night?” Cadderly asked her.

“Most. We have two score or so brothers ready to scour Spirit Soaring—unless you would have some go out with the others.”

“Just a few,” Cadderly decided. “Offer our more worldly brothers—those who have spent the most time gathering herbs that might be used medicinally, who best know the terrain surrounding the library—to the various scouting teams sorted out by our many guests. But let us keep most of our own inside Spirit Soaring, as they know best the many catacombs, tunnels, and antechambers. That is your task, of course.”

Ginance took that great compliment with a bow. “Lady Danica would be most helpful, as would Ivan …” She paused at the sour look Cadderly flashed her way.

“Danica will be out of Spirit Soaring within a short time,” Cadderly explained. “Mostly in search of Ivan, who seems to be missing, and …”

“They’re safely in Carradoon,” Ginance assured him. “All three, and Pikel, too.”

“Let us hope,” was all Cadderly could reply.

A short while later, Cadderly sat on the balcony of his private room, looking southeast, toward Carradoon. So many thoughts fought for his attention as he worried about his children, about Danica who had gone out to look for them and for the missing Ivan Bouldershoulder. He feared for his home, Spirit Soaring, and the implications its downfall might have on his order and more personally, upon him. The horde of unknown monsters that had come against them so violently and determinedly had done little true damage to the cathedral’s structure, but Cadderly had felt the shatter of every window upon his own body, as if someone had flicked a finger hard against his skin. He was intimately bound to the place, and in ways that even he didn’t truly yet understand.

So many worries, and not least among them, Cadderly Bonaduce worried about his god and the state of the world. He had gone there, to the Weave, and had found Deneir, he was sure. He had been granted spells the likes of which he had never before known.

It was Deneir, but it was not Deneir, as if the god was changing before his very eyes, as if Deneir, his god, the rock of philosophical thought that Cadderly had used as the foundation of his very existence, was becoming part of something else, something different, perhaps bigger … and perhaps darker.

It seemed to Cadderly as if Deneir, in his attempt to unravel the mystery of the unraveling, was writing himself into the fabric of the Weave, or trying to write the Weave into the Metatext and taking himself with it in the process!

A flash of fire from a wooded valley to the east brought Cadderly back to the present. He stood up and walked to the railing, peering more intently into the distance. A few trees were on fire—one of the scouting wizards had enacted a fireball, or a priest had called down a column of flame, no doubt.

Which meant that they had encountered monsters.

Cadderly swept his gaze to the south, in line with distant Carradoon, off beyond the lower peaks. He could see the western bank of Impresk Lake on that clear day, and he tried to take some solace in the water’s calm appearance.

He prayed that their near catastrophe was local to Spirit Soaring, that his children and Pikel had gone to Carradoon oblivious to the deadly horde that had come into the mountains behind them.

“Find them, Danica,” he whispered to the late morning breezes.

She had gone out from Spirit Soaring first that day. Going alone allowed Danica to move more swiftly. Trained in stealth and speed, the woman quickly put the library far behind her, moving southeast down the packed-dirt road to Carradoon. She stayed just to the side of the open trail, moving through the brush with ease and speed.