The man let nothing hinder his mission, even though he suffered some wounds and his clothes were worse for the battle, singed or acid-burnt in various places. He wore a wool overcloak of steel blue that matched his eyes. Beneath his cloak were a simple tunic, leathern breeches, and soft doeskin boots. Due to hardships and spell battles long past, the only memento of his earlier life was the iron badge that was his mother's, worn on a chain around his neck. A botched counterspell in battle six tendays back against an undead Shoon vizar had left him with badly burnt hair. While the gifts of his goddess allowed him to alter his features at will, he deemed it too mundane a task for magic.
Thus he shaved his head and trimmed his beard down to the modern Cormyrean style of a beard and moustache only covering his upper lip and chin. The look was deemed "appropriately sinister to match your moods" by acquaintances in Dolbron's Mill two night's prior. The people there had long since taken to calling him "the Nameless Chosen," "Grimspells," or "friend." "Mystra grant me strength," the Nameless One said through gritted teeth as he soared lower toward the mountain and into the smoke coiling around its still-snowclad upper slopes, smoke he had spotted even before the ambush. The spell had an added benefit of sharpening his hearing, but the wizard worried as he heard no sounds when he alighted in the courtyard at his destination-the Pentad Retreat. He had visited the mountain sanctuary only once early in his service to the Lady of Mysteries. Reachable only by well-hidden tunnels, a barely discernible and treacherous footpath, or by air, the monastic enclave rested within an extinct caldera and remained hidden to all but the most attentive of those who traversed that cluster of peaks. It was known to very few outsiders, as the ideas embraced by those pious folk would bring down the wrath of five religions on their collective heads. Of five modest stone temples and chapter houses, a granary, cookhouse, smithy and forge, and a common hall, only smoldering rubble lay. The dream he had two nights past had come true. He had seen the mountain and the five symbols of the gods aflame. Only the library-the largest building and the most fortified beyond Dumathoin's Altar-remained standing. It dominated the northern side of the complex, leaving little room between itself and the outer defensive walls. Two stories tall, the building was made entirely of a silver-white stone not indigenous to the mountain range. The merlons and crenelations atop the walls were carved as open books, unrolled scrolls, and one unique symbol for the gods of the place: a circle enclosing five smaller circles which held an eight-pointed star, a partially unrolled scroll, a mountain with a gem at its heart, a pair of eyes atop a crescent moon, and an oak leaf superimposed over a sun. Arun's Son knew the Everhorde raged everywhere across the North as it had since earlier spring when it claimed Luskan and later Mnarsvale, Suthcliff, Droversford, and countless other hamlets north of the Delimbiyr Vale. It encroached on Yarlith, and the forces of Phalorm moved to intercept it. He had hoped the monastery would remain safe, but his earlier attack showed him the horde had reached even there. The wizard also knew the orcs-even altered ones such as he fought-could never have found the place without help. He ran toward the library to discern what had happened.
Many orcs lay as if they had fallen from great heights, others killed by arrows. Of the nine bodies he found sprawled on the library's steps, four wore amulets with a sigil on them-a wizard's mark known to him. "Palron Kaeth. Of course he would use the Everhorde to his advantage," the man mused aloud. "A reckoning will be coming soon to you and yours, Prefect. So vows the son of Arun." The bodies were all cold, some with ash and snow settling on their graying skin, suggesting death was not recent for them. He heard a muffled clang through the closed doors of the library. The mage placed a hand flat on the door and whispered the password: "Siilathaeraes." The door, which had remained firm against an onslaught of axe blows, acid bursts, and fiery blasts, opened easily to his touch. As he entered, Arun's Son whispered spells to make himself invisible and silent. The room had a perimeter around its stone floor more akin to the naves of a church, allowing him to make a circuit of the chamber with ease. The library was one singular area, its open balconies and roof held aloft by ten fine-crafted stone pillars of lighter stone than the building itself. Carvings on the pillars depicted twice each the idealized forms and sigils of the five gods of the Pentad: Corellon Larethian, Sehanine Moonbow, Dumathoin, Mystra, and Oghma. The tables and desks in the center of the room made three rings that demarcated the divisions of labor in the library. The wizard sighed in relief as nothing seemed disturbed or destroyed, the inkwells on the desks still open and unspilled. The secondary ring were granite slab tables numbering twenty in all, each longer than two adult humans and half again as wide. The tops, sides, edges, and legs were all replete with Dwarvish runes. The innermost ring of tables consisted of secretaries, desks with three bookshelves attached to them. Six were placed in a row, back to back with another row of six, each row facing either side of the room. The angled desks each held a tome and the shelves above the desks were all thick with massive volumes chained to them. The Nameless Chosen could also see additional secretaries, cabinets, and shelves on the balconies overhead, most with books chained in place to prevent theft. The only place where someone could hide was the curate's office that enclosed the eastern balcony. The Nameless One approached the stone spiral staircase in the northeast corner that led directly to the office, still silent and unseen. At the foot of the stair was a golden goblet resting on its side with a bent lip. That had made the noise that alerted him, and the wizard glanced up to find the trapdoor into the office wide open. He cast three spells on himself and one upward into the room as he slowly ascended the stairs.
He could not detect any evil or any invisible creatures beside himself. His last spell was merely guaranteed to counterspell the first magic cast upon him. The noiseless and invisible mage rose up into the curate's office. The room, like the library below, had light filtering in through theurglass skylights in the ceiling. Unlike the light below, the rectangular room glistened with refracted rainbows of colors on the wood paneled walls. The sparkles came from the eleven crystals hovering in mid-air among an arc of six tall wing-backed chairs, five of which had their backs to him. Four small gems, each about the size of his thumbnail, orbited the others with faster motions, and those were colored brown, umber, orange, and red. The other seven crystals were clear and as long and thick as the wizard's torso. The Nameless Chosen inadvertently spoke aloud in his astonishment, "Kiiratel'Uvaeranni…" Voices answered him from among the chairs. "Very good, Nameless One." "Approach us and sit." "Be quick-our time grows short." "Are we sure he's the one?" "He has ties and loyalties to us all. He is the one." The Nameless Chosen froze where he stood when an elf's hand appeared above the back of the nearest chair, beckoning him forward. Its skin was glistening and jet-black, and claws seemed to flex in and from its fingers like a stretching cat. The wizard pulled some iron, diamond dust, and an assortment of herbs from his belt pouch as he yelled out a quick spell. The magic wrapped each of the chairs in glowing chains, each link a handspan wide. Another chorus of dispassionate voices considered his actions. "Niyadra's Chains? He knows his elven spell-lore. Pity about his human patience." "I will not be bound." The chains on the far right chair dissolved with the sound of iron clanging on steel. "Of the five, his power alone can keep our secrets." "Power alone is not enough. Our sharing with the elf of Ardeep proved some cannot abide all secrets." "Aloevan's love and trust of history shattered with our secret. This one understands the past has many layers and many truths inside shells of deceit." "He is human, the starred one's gifts besides." "Human born of half-breed, true, but elf blood is his. He is worthy." During those retorts, the Nameless One maneuvered to the empty chair, the one the other five all faced. He dropped his invisibility spell as quickly as his jaw. He had recognized the voices as those of the high priests of the Pentad's temples, but they were not precisely whom he faced just then. They each looked like the priests in basic form and profile, but a glistening black slime covered them from foot to throat. What little flesh remained uncovered had darkened considerably. High Hammer Arnathus the dwarf had claws and fangs sprouting and disappearing in his prodigious beard, its russet-brown hair black and oily. Saarvip and Mijala Oakenstaff, the elves whose marriage mirrored those of their gods, held hands, and the wizard could not see where one black form ended and the other began. Magepriest Laume of Summersreach always had the kindest eyes, and they smiled on the wizard-all seventeen of them blinking about the gnome's body and face. The Chondathan woman he knew the least. She had only recently come to the Lorebinder's service, but he knew that Naarys the Morninglark had never before needed five hands to play a lap-harp. All five spoke in unison but alternated among themselves, as if they all shared the same mind. The wizard sat in shock as five of the massive crystals manifested each of the Pentad's holy symbols within their cores in blue and purple energy, underscoring the acceptance of their gods in the event. "We are in transition, Nameless Chosen, for the good of all." "Understand we are in no harm, nor pain, nor fear." "All your questions are answered in these crystals and our books." "Attend them, know them, guard them, and keep them safe and secret." "Our legacy must be kept but we guard others greater still." "Know we are not the first to make this transition, for we join many vanished waiting to be found later." "Among us are minds and souls of many peoples, all of us coming from realms falling." "Many have been lost to greed, ambition, or evil, and we protect those few who cling to their dreams."