The chief turned and literally began to toss the other commanders out of the teleport circle as they arrived. Laeral spent another moment with Yoraedia and Brassaxe, helping them overcome their teleport afterdaze by reminding them where they were. When they finally seemed to recall what they were supposed to be doing, she assigned them each a sector to keep clear, then helped the next batch of arrivals through the transition. She had rehearsed the entire plan with her commanders before creating the teleportation circle in the Forest of Wyrms, but with only three hours to march the entire relief army through an area little more than five feet in diameter, there was no margin for error.
Finally growing confident that her commanders had the situation under control, Laeral turned to inspect the area. Though hardly pouring rain, the weather was still overcast and drizzly, and she could barely make out the main Shadovar camp, positioned for easy defense atop a low butte at Anauroch's edge. The murky silhouettes of several dozen sentries stood at the brink of the cliff, using their dark spears to point down at the arriving army while their astonished comrades rushed up behind them.
Laeral raised an arm arid waved at the astonished sentries, then used a sending spell to address the closest one. Give your prince the compliments of Laeral Silver-hand and tell him the Army of the North has arrived.
The warrior cocked his head in surprise, then raised his spear in acknowledgement and turned to go. It shall be done.
Laeral nodded and started across the damp sand toward the shadowshell. Though still more than a quarter of a mile away, the edifice's imposing size made it feel like something natural, more along the lines of the High Ice or the Spine of the World than something created by the magic of men. Stationed at its base every half mile or so were small patrols of Shadovar warriors mounted on their strange flying worms, paying more attention to Laeral and her relief army than to the rocky slopes inside the dark sphere. It was too murky to tell whether the drizzle was also falling inside the shell, but the few withered trees visible through the barrier suggested that something was turning the Sharaedim as life-less as Anauroch.
As Laeral drew nearer the shadowshell, her faint shadow darkened and split into three identical silhouettes. A pair of gleaming metallic eyes appeared in the heads of the two outer shapes, then they slowly assumed the shapes of two Shadovar warriors. She stopped and addressed the broad-shouldered figure on the left. "A pleasure to see you again, Prince Clariburnus."
The prince's lead-colored eyes lit with pleasure, then his silhouette peeled itself off the ground and, still expanding into its normal form, bowed.
"Clariburnus, please." He gestured at the other prince, a gaunt figure with talonlike fingers and eyes the color of rusty iron. "My brother, Lamorak."
Also returning to shape, Lamorak bowed and said, "Your arrival is a welcome surprise." He cast a meaningful glance toward the growing horde of warriors spilling from Laeral's teleportation circle. "We were given to believe it would be some time yet before you arrived with your army."
Laeral returned his bow with one of her own. "Yes… well, I was beginning to think you Shadovar would never stop coming to our rescue."
Lamorak frowned in confusion, but Clariburnus's grin was broad and appreciative. "Your long march was a ruse?"
Laeral glanced over her shoulder at the weary warriors spilling out of the teleportation circle. "Don't tell them," she said in a low voice, "but after the debacle at Rocnest, we decided it would be best to draw the remaining phaerimm out of the way before trying to bring another army in. According to my scouts, the last three free phaerimm are rushing down out of the Trielta Hills with their hobgoblins and illithids as we speak."
"By the time they realize that you are no longer in the Forest of Wyrms, your warriors will be resting in dry tents behind a screen of Shadovar pickets," Clariburnus offered. "My compliments. A sly plan well-executed."
"I thank you for the compliment," Laeral said, "but I fear I must decline your offer of protection."
Lamorak's eyes flashed crimson. "Surely, you do not believe the slander spewed against us in Waterdeep?" "Only half," Laeral said, making light. "Tempus knows, we need the rest, but Evereska's mythal is failing."
The two Shadovar glanced at each other, their eyes full of mistrust and suspicion.
"I heard from Khelben," Laeral explained. "He's in the city."
"Of course," Clariburnus said, nodding in comprehension. "The phaerimm deadwall has begun to fail-the shadowshell is working."
A terrible thought occurred to Laeral. "Are you sure? If the shadowshell is blocking their access to the Weave, it would be blocking Khelben's, too. I wouldn't have been able to hear him."
"We're sure," Lamorak said, addressing Laeral as though she were a several-hundred-year-old child. "There is still Weave magic inside the shell, and it takes far less energy to carry words than to maintain the dead-wail."
Clariburnus's eyes grew distant. He fell quiet and turned toward the shadowshell. Not familiar enough with the Shadovar to recognize what was happening, Laeral remained silent herself and looked to Lamorak. "My brother?" Lamorak asked. "What is it?"
Clariburnus turned back to Lamorak, then slid his eyes in Laeral’s direction and shook his head ever so slightly.
Laeral frowned and said, "If something's troubling you, Prince, tell me. The last thing we need right now is to start mistrusting each other."
Clariburnus thought for a moment, then said, "Very well. Your story can't be true. The shadowshell would have turned Khelben's communication spell back on him."
Laeral nodded, recalling how all of the spells they had tried after establishing contact had failed. "As a matter of fact, it did," she said, "and not only the sending spells. We tried transferring items, opening dimensional doors, and about a dozen other things. Nothing worked." "Then how could you hear him?" Lamorak asked.
"It wasn't a spell-it's a gift to the Chosen from Mystra." She waited until a look of acceptance came to the prince's faces, then said, "Now, I must ask you to allow my army into the Sharaedim. We are not going to let that mythal fall."
Clariburnus looked to his brother, who raised a hand and turned away to think.
"Prince Lamorak, your brother Aglarel assured Lord Piergeiron that we would be given access," Laeral said. "If you refuse to honor that promise…"
"Have no fear, we will honor the promise." Lamorak glanced back at the burgeoning relief army, then returned his gaze to Laeral and gave her an icy, fang-filled smile. "With your permission, we will do even more. We will help you destroy the phaerimm."
"Of course, I welcome the help of the Shadovar." Laeral returned his smile with one just as cold. "You might even say I've been counting on it." ©• •©••Ђ›• •©••©•
As secret passages went, the one leading into the subbasement of the Irithlium was a masterwork. Concealed beneath the only false column among the thousands of real ones supporting the floor above, the entrance was nearly undetectable, with the door seams concealed by the column's base stone and the hinges hidden in the capital twenty feet overhead. Had Vala not seen the two-foot centipede crawling out from beneath the base as she approached, it was doubtful that she would have noticed anything unusual about the pillar at all. It looked just like every other support column she had passed, complete with mildew and moss-filled cracks. The elf builders had even taken the precaution of concealing the latch in a crack on the opposite side of an adjacent column.
"Scout, why are you stopped?" The demand came from ten paces back, where Parth Gal-Vala refused to call the Shadovar a lord, even in her own mind-stood peering out from behind a column. "Have you found something?" "A secret door," Vala said, motioning him forward.