Raegar said, scratching his head as the pair of them watched Nameless step into a puddle to clean his plumage. "We saw the battle as we descended, and I wanted to help. Syndra cast a spell on Nameless to grow him, and the spell seemed to get away from her. He went solid silver for one instant, and the next thing we knew, he was the size of a cliffcat! By the way, it was his idea for me to ride him to your rescue. He can really snap those wings when he wants to make a point."
Raegar rubbed one shoulder and grimaced from the aches. Tsarra knelt by the tressym, and she purred at him. He looked at her, and she yelled, "Khelben, look!" Everyone turned to the tressym. His eyes were no longer a mismatched blue and green-both were the steel blue of Khelben's eyes. His sable fur was also broken by a silver-white wedge that ornamented his chin. Tsarra asked her familiar in his own purring speech, "What happened? Are you all right? Why did this change happen?" The only response Raegar saw was a wide yawn and stretch by the winged cat. In her mind, Tsarra heard him respond more clearly than ever before, Only magic, and it helps. I stronger. Want to go hunt more not-right-cold-prey? You need nap, calm yourself. Ah-food!
Nameless launched himself into the air, arcing across the heath to nab a ground quail, which he tore apart and consumed. Tsarra shrugged when she turned back to the others. "He's content and feels stronger, but he's either not sharing any details or he doesn't know any. I don't understand. He's never had this kind of reaction before to magic."
Khelben said, "Then again, his mistress has never been quite so tethered to Mystra's raw Weave either. Perhaps the silver fire and my body's destruction carried some effects through our link." Tsarra heard a yowl at the same time she felt anger from the tressym. His howls were fast and frantic, but she understood his rage-someone teleported in atop his tail. As she and Raegar ran around the rubble, she felt the tressym's satisfaction as he attacked the robes and feet of the offender. She found Nameless, his jaws being pried loose from the ankle of Elminster. The old mage held the hissing, furious tressym by the scruff, seeming more surprised than injured. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't hurt him, please, sir!" Tsarra felt embarrassed, but she also felt the outrage coming from Nameless. "Now, why would I go and do something as silly as that, my dear? Granted, he's insulted me more in the past breath than most do in a tenday, but I did tread on his tail. For that, you have my apologies, Nameless." Elminster smiled as he let the tressym go. "How did you know that?" she asked. "Laeral calls him that, and I've not met anyone who could read another's familiar." "So little time for questions, my dear." Elminster kissed her hand. "I'm afraid Laeral learned her sense of humor from me. Given your tressym's appearance and temper, I can't think of a more suitable name." As if on cue, the tressym looked up and cocked his head to one side, a pitch-perfect impression of a curious Khelben with the white wedge within black-as-night whiskers. Elminster chuckled, "Don't you think it sad that more don't learn to speak Tressym? Such an expressive language beyond the usual Avian or Feline-in nine hundred years, I've never been called a 'haggard food-carrier who smells like a burnt dungheap' before." Tsarra opened her mouth to apologize but started laughing instead. "I'm sorry, milord, but I-" Elminster's smile disarmed her, the mirth in him spread through his eyes and the face behind his wintry bramble of beard. "Fret not, lass, and belay the lordship I never took up. I've heard tell of your past few days.
It is you who honor us and Our Lady, and I know we can expect greater things of thee in times yet to come." Elminster bowed deeply from the waist, causing Tsarra to blush. Khelben's image shimmered between them and he said, "If you're done trying to seduce my apprentice, Graybeard, it's time to begin." Elminster took Tsarra by the arm, winking at her while addressing her mentor. "Serenity, Khelben.
Remember, 'Waken darkness in lightning's strike; Waken Sleepers when dawn breaks night; only then may the Gathering attend the Feast of Five Gods.'" Elminster nudged Tsarra in the ribs and said, "I penned that little something into a poetry chap-book in Myth Drannor. Some fools think it has something to do with Bane." He shrugged and returned his attention to Khelben, who tapped his illusory foot impatiently. "A few stars need to fall into place before our work begins, but we must assemble. Are all in attendance, then?" "Imagine my astonishment that you're an early arrival for the first time in centuries." Elminster waved his hand in dismissal. "You never know to enjoy a situation when it comes, son of Arun." The old wizard squeezed Tsarra's arm and whispered, "Remember this if things get rough. Think of the sun-dappled happiness of the woods, child, and that shall carry ye through. I'm off to see how Malchor and the others have fared preparing the lakebed. See you in a trice!" With that, Elminster of Shadowdale's form popped like a soap bubble. While Tsarra had more questions, she found her attention snapping to the rubble pile along with Nameless. Rocks tumbled out of the way, and Priamon Rakesk flew from the mound of broken masonry as if it weren't there! Raegar drew and threw the flaming short sword, but its flame trail missed all but the tatters of his black and green cape and robes. Luckily, the blur that was Syndra's rod zipped in to intercept the flying lich. The duskwood rod slammed onto the lich's head and shoulder mercilessly.
The weapon reared back in the hands of its invisible wielder a third time, eager to lunge as the Frostrune fell back toward the ground, but Khelben yelled, "No, Syndra! Don't disrupt this spell!" Tsarra yelled "Barkalrhael!" while pointing her bow at him, and a dark emerald ribbon of energy launched from it. The energies gelled over the lich's hands and his one remaining foot, the ribbon snaking around his limbs and his mouth. The spheres pulled the lich's arms and legs apart, leaving him spread-eagled and hovering over the rubble. "Intriguing spell you created, Priamon," Khelben said. "I look forward to studying it more, now that your compatriots saw fit to send it to me as insurance that I would save them the trouble of dealing with you."
Raegar watched the lich struggle, and tiny lightning bolts crackled across Priamon's spasming body whenever he pulled his limbs closer together. His soulless stare said enough for Khelben. "Of course they knew you betrayed them by setting up backdoor portals into their sanctums. I took your spellbooks, and Sapphiraktar and I agreed to turn a blind eye to each other's activities for a time." Khelben turned his back on the bound lich, and asked Tsarra, "Could you and Raegar guide him over Malavar's Grasp? Just push him forward. Tsarra, we need to awaken the Sleepers before dawn fully breaks over the Graypeaks, and it's better Priamon is in place for his part in this ritual before the Gathering occurs." Tsarra and Khelben moved toward the stone plinths, the sky rosy in the east. She grumbled, "This Gathering is all those we've met the past three days? Everyone is here to work some magic?" "All of them and more. Raegar, move him a little more south so he rests beneath Syndra's sphere of force. Good-right there." "I'm still furious at you for trying to force me into submission earlier," Tsarra grumbled, "but we're stuck this way for now. It's obvious you're needed more than I am to command this crowd, so…" Tsarra cast a spell, and her form shifted to become Khelben the Blackstaff. Gamalon and Khelben both said, "Mystra sees and Mystra knows, every trouble found in her work, an oblation on the altar of stars." "Myaaklyr's Fourth Sermon from Myrjala to the Arathenes, eh?
Who's preparing to do something rash and life-threatening?" His voice preceded him as Elminster popped back in. He turned to look up at Frostrune and puffed a cloud of smoke from his pipe. "Honestly, Khelben. The Moor is forbidding enough without ugly decorations."