03 The Shield of Weeping Ghosts by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T11:59:57.089000+00:00

chapter eighteen The fang set to work freeing the doors at the end of the hall, pulling stiff bodies away from one another. More torches were lit and laid by the side to loosen the ice. Looking high into the shadows overhead, Bastun imagined the battles fought above and below the wall, resisting the urge to caress the cold metal of the Breath and bear witness to the ghosts still fighting. Still fighting, he thought, because of Ill-conceived magic in the past and wychlaren neglect in the present. The length of wall they toiled beneath was once known as the Bridge of Wakes, where the wizard rulers of Shandaular were carried upon their passing to the northwest tower. All but the last were cremated at the tower's top, Arkaius's remains being utterly destroyed in his sacrificial attempt to seal the portal in the heart of the city. Troubled by the thought, he recalled there were no solid records regarding the fate of Athumrani. "See something?" Duras asked and followed Bastun's gaze up into the darkness. "No, just remembering my studies," he replied, and returned to watching the progress at the doors. Duras looked away as well, turning back to stare into the dark behind them with a concerned expression. "We're close now. The tower beyond should be well enough intact if memory serves, and the northwest tower has been" "Thaena still hasn't caught up," Duras said, then added, "and the durthan is with her." Bastun sympathized with his friend's worry, but he could find little fear for the ethran. "You love her," he said solemnly, the words slipping out. "I am" Duras began, then paused, sighing in the awkward silence that followed before continuing, "I am her guardian." The answer stung, it tore at Bastun's insides like nothing else had, but it was what he'd needed to hear. The weight of lost time on his shoulders lessened, though it settled in more comfortablymore permanently. Neither of the pair spoke, listening to the cadence of axes and swords on ice and wood. It was as if something had broken, a divergence between what was and what should have been. "Perhaps I should go back for her," Duras said at length, hand resting on the hilt of his long sword. "She'll be fine. Thaena can" Bastun stopped, noticing the quick glances of several among the fang. They looked at him and at Duras, then to Syrolf, who shook his head derisively at the pair. The wedge that was being driven between Duras and his warriors was becoming painfully apparent. Their leader's loyalty to an old friend threatened to make a bad situation worse, and Bastun rethought his words. "I think you should do as she does, Duras. Do as you damn well please, ignore common sense, and leave me out of it." The coldness in his voice was heard by all, being more for the fang's benefit than that of Duras. He kept his eyes on the floor, feeling the change in the air as Duras regarded him with sudden shock and anger.

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