The Lost Library of Cormanthyr (38 page)

“Here,” he said.

“Get a man on that crypt door,” Cordyan ordered one of her guardsmen. “If anything moves behind us, I want to know about it.”

The hook horrors had given up the chase a few minutes before, after one of them had been doused in oil and set afire. And one of the tunnels the party had traveled through had been too narrow for the large creatures to get through. However, the hook horrors had managed to locate one of the drow warriors trying to follow the Waterdhavian unit.

Baylee let his long sword guide the way, holding the lantern up. He started down the stone steps, then the next series of quakes shook the ground. Blocks of stone tumbled from overhead.

“Shields up!” Cordyan screamed. She extended her shield over Baylee and herself as the debris poured down.

Baylee stayed under the proffered shelter as the stone battered against the shield. He held his left arm up and Xuxa fluttered down to hang from it. The quake this time lasted longer than the other times.

“They’re getting worse,” Cthulad said. Rock pounded against his upraised shield with deafening thuds.

Gradually, the deluge stopped. Baylee pushed himself out from under Cordyan’s shield and went forward. Other buildings lay in a tumbled-down mess before him. He held the lantern high and went quickly. Being between the buildings when the next quake hit was going to be dangerous. Any of them looked capable of crumbling down and doing serious harm to anyone under them.

Baylee found the end of the steps and paused on the last one.

“What are you stopping for?” Cordyan asked.

The ranger took a brush from the gnomish work armor. He worked at the bottom stone step. “There’s supposed to be a trip switch here somewhere.”

“A trip switch for what?” Cordyan knelt and helped him look along the step.

“A doorway of some kind.” Baylee cleaned the front of the step with the brush, below the top surface.

“The trail goes on beyond,” the civilar pointed out.

“But it doesn’t go where we want to go.” Baylee moved his lantern, directing the light over the stone step. He barely made out the crevice that ran along the front of the step, halfway down. “Please hold this.”

Cordyan took the lantern and kept the light on the step.

Baylee released his long sword, keeping it beside him, and took a miniature pry bar from one of the pockets in the gnomish leathers. He slipped the end into the crevice and started adding pressure. The crevice was artificed so carefully, he didn’t know if he would have seen it without all the damage the quakes had done. After a moment, a thin sheeting of stone that ran the length of the step came loose in his hand. More dust had filtered through, covering the surface beneath. He put the pry bar away and used the brush again to reveal eight symbols inscribed in the stone, covering squares of stone that Baylee believed to be attached to counterweights.

Beside the symbols was an inscription. Baylee translated, guiding the lantern in Cordyan’s hand. ” ‘If you’ve a love of lore and a love of culture, you’ll know of Schyck Raveneyes.’”

“Raveneyes?” Cordyan asked. “Who was Schyck Raveneyes?”

Calebaan crowded closer, bringing his light to bear as well. “Raveneyes was one of the lesser known elven heroes of myth and legend. Not much was written about him.” He paused. “I don’t know what those symbols represent.”

Baylee forced himself to think. His mind raced and his heart hammered inside his chest. He touched the symbols, hoping the contact would give him a clue. They were representations of Raveneyes. He felt frantic as his mind repeatedly reached into his memory and couldn’t quite grasp what he needed.

Be at ease, Baylee, Xuxa offered.

I can’t. What I need is right there. Baylee traced the symbols again, trying to fathom these. They were of a ship, an arrow, a dragon, a cloud, a morkoth, a child, a river, and an altar.

“If it’s the story of Raveneyes,” Cordyan said, “then maybe you’re supposed to press them in order.”

“Of course you’re supposed to press them in order,” Baylee snapped. He felt guilt over his behavior and turned to face the civilar. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I can barely remember this story.”

“What story, lad?” Cthulad asked.

“The story of Schyck Raveneyes.” Baylee looked at the symbols again. “He was given eight tasks to do by Solonor Thelandira. Evidently these are supposed to be pressed in order.”

“Then the picture of the child must be the first,” Cordyan said.

“No,” Baylee replied. “That has to represent the firstborn child of Coronal Fhastey, who got some of the early families of the wild elves to agree to trading camps and fairs. Fhastey’s son was kidnapped by a gang of rogues seeking to break some of the trade agreements. Raveneyes found the coronal’s son and brought him back safely. But that was among the later stories.” Sluggishly his mind turned to the stories he remembered.

“If you remember that, you should be able to remember the rest of it,” the civilar said.

“There are eight of them,” Baylee said, “and the stories of Raveneyes were an interest a long time ago. He left nothing behind except these legends.”

“Evidently Glitterwing liked him,” Calebaan said.

Baylee blinked perspiration out of his eyes. “Raveneyes fought the Cloud of Kellagg first. He was fifteen years old. The cloud gathered in the cemetery of Notts Docks, a trading post on the River Ashaba even before Myth Drannor existed. It brought the dead up out of the ground, fulfilling an ancient curse.”

“Raveneyes found the Gem of Despair and shattered it, ending the threat as I recall,” Calebaan said.

Baylee nodded. “Fragments of that gem are supposed to still exist, giving limited control over those recently killed by violent means. Families, they say, can purchase the use of the gem and allow the dead to rise and avenge themselves.”

“Press the symbol,” Cordyan said.

Hesitantly, Baylee pressed the symbol. It sank in, then clicked and stayed inset. “Then came the threat of the goblin pirates along the river.” He pressed the river stone, getting more tense when it locked into place rather than relaxing. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen if he guessed wrong.

The arrow designating the hunt for the unicorn burial ground, there to find components necessary to make a potion to save

Raveneyes’s own daughter, came next. It was followed by the altar which represented the drow pocket of civilization Raveneyes had destroyed when those dark elves encroached too far into the forest. Thinking about the story, Baylee realized the drow could have come through these very caverns back then, and Glitterwing’s own research into the legends could have helped him found Rainydale.

The ship followed after, representing Raveneyes’s journey to the Moonshaes while seeking to find a scroll for a wizard who was favored of Solonor. He was left with the dragon, the child, and the morkoth. Why couldn’t he remember the end of the stories? His breathing sounded ragged in his ears.

Baylee, you’re doing fine, Xuxa said.

No! I can’t remember! Mielikki take me for a fool, I can’t remember! I know the child pictograph comes in the middle, but which is next? He stared at the dragon and the morkoth, amazed that he could forget. His mind filled with facts, half-remembered stories, and things he was sure he’d never thought of before. The story of Raveneyes seemed even further away.

‘The child,” Calebaan said. “There was something about Raveneyes’s rescue of the boy.”

Baylee struggled to remember, then it came to him. “The shield!” He glanced at the wizard, seeking agreement.

Calebaan nodded. “The shield he had made from the scales of the red dragon, Ysolim.”

Feeling more excited, Baylee hit the last three stones in succession, waiting for each click before going on to the next. At the last stone, the sound of gears grinding came from the wall on the right side of the tunnel. A huge stone block that conformed to the outer appearance sank back into the wall along smooth tracks carved into the floor.

When it stopped, it perfectly blocked the new tunnel eight feet back.

“It’s not clear,” Cordyan said. “The tunnel is still blocked.”

Another quake hit, rolling the underground like a giant shrugging its shoulders. Baylee rode out the movement easily. Being in the tunnel away from the majority of the debris that came tumbling down helped. Huge rocks rolled across the caves in the distance, creating thunderous echoes.

“Is there another riddle?” Calebaan demanded.

Baylee shone his lantern into the recessed area. For an unexplained reason, most of it failed to reach the end of the tunnel. He picked up a rock and threw it. The rock never hit the other end of the tunnel.

“It’s a dimensional door,” Cthulad said. “But where does it go?”

Baylee was on the verge of suggesting there was only one way to find out, when a spectral voice came from behind the party.

“To the library, of course. Where else would it go?”

Baylee swung the lantern to the left, lighting the figure standing there.

The lantern’s glow robbed the cloak of its shadows, revealing the features of the being wrapped within. He was tall and striking, and probably would have been thought of as handsome in his days when life was still within him. Seeing the shriveled skin and glowing white eyes, Baylee had no doubt that the man before him was dead. Pointed elven ears stood out at the sides of his head.

“Who are you?” the ranger asked, bringing his long sword to the ready.

“I am Nevft Scoontiphp, a baelnorn charged with protecting the crypts of my family. Those crypts are now endangered by the lich you seek.” The creature regarded Baylee with its colorless gaze.

“What lich?” Baylee was aware that Cordyan had spread her men out behind him, their weapons at the ready.

“The library caretaker,” Scoontiphp replied in his eerie voice. “He calls himself Folgrim Shallowsoul these days. His mortal name is long forgotten, even by himself, I believe.”

Xuxa? Baylee prompted.

His intentions are honorable, the azmyth bat replied.

Baylee knew about baelnorns from his studies of old elven legends, but he’d never met one. Nor had he met anyone who had. “Why do you show yourself to us?” he asked. He’d always heard they were solitary creatures who didn’t like anyone outside of the family they protected to see them.

“Because there is no one else who will rise up against Shallowsoul.” A cold smile twisted the dead lips. “I even entertained ideas of supporting the drow woman’s bid for power over the lich, but she wouldn’t have me.”

“What drow woman?” Baylee asked.

“Krystarn Fellhammer. She believes that her goddess, Lloth, Queen of Spiders, led her to Shallowsoul and placed her in his control so that she might learn from the great library Glitterwing had assembled.” The baelnorn turned his head toward the tunnel with the dimensional door. “She pursues the lich now as well. Shallowsoul has been so intent on killing first Fannt Golsway, then yourself, that he has missed much of what she is doing. She’s assembled an army of hobgoblins here in these caverns and is now breaking into the library.”

“How do you know this?” Cthulad demanded.

The baelnorn flicked his dead gaze over to the old ranger. “Because I am there as well.”

Baylee remembered then that a baelnorn possessed the power to project an image across a distance. But that story had never been confirmed. Until now.

“Why should we trust you?” Cordyan asked.

“You shouldn’t,” Scoontiphp replied. “Because I seek to serve my own ends.”

“Here as well as with the drow?” Cthulad asked.

The baelnorn nodded. “Else why would I be in either place? I would gladly not suffer humans set foot in these caverns. I’ve killed dozens over the years who would not heed my warnings when they neared the crypts of my family. And I’ve killed other manner of men and near-men.”

“Then why are you here?” Baylee asked.

“Because Shallowsoul must be stopped,” Scoontiphp answered. “If that is possible. Even now, it may already be too late. He seeks to move the library, to shift from this plane into the astral plane itself. There, amid the floating rocks and bodies of dead gods, he feels he will be safe from any more interlopers. And there will be less chance of anyone coming to take the library. If he succeeds, the vacuum left by the library’s absence will be horrendous. Perhaps all of the underground will be destroyed. The library is very big.”

What do you want from us? Xuxa asked.

“In another part of these caverns,” Scoontiphp said, “I am helping Krystarn Fellhammer gain entrance to the library. She will attempt to steal as many books as she can, and in doing so, she will set off a number of alarms the lich has in place in the library. That will provide a diversion for you for a time. Maybe even enough time to succeed.”

“Succeed at what?” Cordyan asked.

The baelnorn fixed her with his dead gaze. “Weren’t you listening? Shallowsoul is a lich. As such, he will have a phylactery.”

“I don’t know what that is,” the civilar replied.

“It’s a container,” Baylee said automatically. “When a lich is created, it also creates a phylactery to hold its life essence. That way if the body is destroyed, it can be reborn in some manner.”

“Exactly,” the baelnorn replied. “I’m glad you understand the situation. You’ll also understand that we do not have much time. Krystarn Fellhammer and her hobgoblin army will be through the dimensional door she’s been using to get into the library in the next few minutes. If you wait for very much longer, your chances of success are virtually non-existent.”

“Maybe they’ll be more non-existent if we go with you,” Cordyan said.

“That’s for you to decide. In truth, you are all humans, and I could care less if you all die in this endeavor. Myth Drannor and its environs should never have had to suffer the presence of humans, dwarves, or any of the other barbarian species that came into the City of Songs and drew her down.” The baelnorn turned to the dimensional door at the end of the tunnel. “But I’m going. The only chance I see that you have is in finding the phylactery while Shallowsoul is engaged in keeping the library from being plundered by Krystarn’s hobgoblin horde.” Without another word, Scoontiphp ran into the dimensional door and promptly disappeared.