The Sundering: The Sentinel Part 1

The Sundering.

The Sentinel.

Troy Denning.

When the trials begin, in soul-torn solitude despairing, the hunter waits alone.

The companions emerge from fast-bound ties of fate uniting against a common foe.

When the shadows descend, in h.e.l.l-sworn covenant unswerving the blighted brothers hunt, and the G.o.dborn appears, in rose-blessed abbey reared, arising to loose the G.o.dly spark.

When the harvest time comes, in hate-fueled mission grim unbending, the shadowed reapers search.

The adversary vies with fiend-wrought enemies, opposing the twisting schemes of h.e.l.l.

When the tempest is born, as storm-tossed waters rise uncaring, the promised hope still shines.

And the reaver beholds the dawn-born chosen's gaze, transforming the darkness into light.

When the battle is lost, through quake-tossed battlefields unwitting the seasoned legions march, but the sentinel flees with once-proud royalty, protecting devotion's fragile heart.

When the ending draws near, with ice-locked stars unmoving, the threefold threats await, and the herald proclaims, in war-wrecked misery, announcing the dying of an age.

-As written by Elliandreth of Orishaar, c. 17,600 DR.

For Karina Hayday.

CHAPTER 1.

2 Uktar, the Year of the Nether Mountain Scrolls (1486 DR) Ma.r.s.ember, Cormyr THE EYES WERE THE FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE, A PAIR OF STEEL-BLUE ovals staring out from beneath a storefront awning across the street. Focused and intense, they were watching something on the wagon-choked boulevard, fixing on it the way a predator fixes on prey.

"Those priests have to go," said a hoa.r.s.e voice down in front of Kleef. "You can see that, can't you?"

The voice belonged to a ruddy-cheeked cloth merchant. A moment before, Kleef had climbed onto the side of the man's wagon, trying to see what was clogging Starmouth Way. The merchant had immediately begun to harangue him about removing a group of street-corner priests who were attracting a crowd and blocking the square ahead.

Kleef continued to ignore the fellow and continued to studied the steel-blue eyes across the way. So bright they almost seemed to glow, the eyes were set beneath a heavy brow, in a gaunt, gray face that appeared to shift hues with the shadows. The shoulders beneath were broad and st.u.r.dy and covered by a dusky cloak that seemed to blur at the edges. Through the press of the crowd, it was difficult to tell much more about the figure-except that he had a commanding presence that seemed to insulate him from the jostling mob.

As a topsword in the Ma.r.s.ember Watch, Kleef Kenric had more experience fighting back-alley cutthroats than Shadovar spies-but he was fairly certain he was looking at one now. He had been warned to expect them before the actual a.s.sault began, and scouts from the Purple Dragons had been arriving since yesterday with reports of the enemy's approach.

Hoping to spot the Shadovar's quarry, Kleef shifted his attention to the middle of the boulevard. It took only a moment to find the likely target: a beautiful woman whose long, flame-red hair cascaded down the shoulders of her fine green cloak. She was moving against the traffic, glancing back as though aware she was being stalked. Even from a distance, Kleef could see that her eyes matched the emerald-green hue of her cloak. Following close on her heels was a slovenly little man with a round head and a thin frame, dressed in a drab gray robe that hung on him as though it had been draped over a skeleton. Despite the press of the crowd, people were moving aside to let them pa.s.s, smiling and nodding at the woman but scowling and wrinkling their noses at her companion.

Kleef had only been watching the pair for a moment when a mule cart piled high with furniture and children pulled alongside him, blocking his view. Almost instantly, the cart's progress was blocked by the wall of wagons that had already attempted the same maneuver, and Kleef found himself staring into the wide-eyed faces of three young boys, all sitting upon an overturned table. The youngest was clutching a small white dog that flattened its ears and began to bark at him.

The cloth merchant grew more impatient. "Well, Watchman? Are you going to do your job or not?" He waved the handle of his ox whip in front of Kleef's eyes, then pointed it up the clogged boulevard. "Those charlatan priests are the problem. You have to get rid of them."

Kleef dropped his gaze to the merchant, a ruddy-cheeked man with a slim crescent of chain mail peeking out from the neck of his silken robes. Seated on the bench beside him were a haggard-looking woman and two young, weary-looking girls.

"I see a lot of things," Kleef said. As he spoke, he tried to peer past the mule cart and catch another glimpse of the Shadovar. "I can't fix them all."

"But you can remove the priests, can you not?" The merchant slipped a hand beneath his robes and withdrew five gold lions. "Surely you see how they're bringing the entire evacuation to a halt?"

Kleef felt his lip curl at the offer of a bribe. But with an enemy spy already inside the city, now was hardly the time to slap an ordinary merchant in the stocks. Kleef started to step off the wagon.

"Perhaps you didn't understand me, Watchman." The merchant's voice grew more urgent, and a metallic jingle sounded from his palm. "With the crowds they're drawing, those priests are endangering everyone. You need to clear the streets."

Kleef glanced over to find that the palm now held ten gold coins. He stopped mid-descent, one boot still on the wagon's footboard and the other on the boarding step. Despite the insult of the gold, the merchant was right about one thing: Starmouth Way was so choked by top-heavy carts and wagons that it was impossible to see even fifty paces ahead-and it was as much Kleef's duty to keep the evacuation moving as it was to watch the Shadovar spy.

And the merchant was right about the priests, too. Kleef could not actually see them, but they were clearly audible, using the magic of their G.o.ds to make their booming voices heard above the din of the evacuation, above the creaking axles and lowing oxen, the shouts of impatient evacuees and the wails of frightened children. From the sound of it, at least one priest stood preaching on each of the four corners of the square ahead, and each priest was heralding the end of the world, swearing that his G.o.d alone could offer salvation.

It was no wonder crowds were stopping to listen. There were streaks of greenish-blue flame in the sky, and just that morning, the streets had shaken so hard that an entire neighborhood in the Ca.n.a.l District had slid into the water. People wanted to believe that the right prayer would return their lives to normal-that if they offered a large enough donation to the priests, or made a large enough sacrifice, it would save them from the coming cataclysm.

Fools.

The G.o.ds might spare them, but the Shadovar would not. From what Kleef had heard, the entire kingdom of Cormyr was falling. Riders from the Purple Dragons arrived at the King's Tower every day to bring news of a fresh disaster-Myth Drannor was besieged, the Netherese were storming Arabel and marching south toward Suzail, the shadow fiends had escaped their prison in Wheloon and would soon be descending upon Ma.r.s.ember. By some accounts, the fiends might even arrive before the next dawn-news that had not been shared widely, lest the evacuation turn into a riot.

The merchant continued to offer the coins expectantly. Kleef pulled himself higher and craned his neck, trying to catch sight of the Shadovar as he weighed his responsibilities. On the one hand, it was important to stop the spy. On the other, it was his duty to keep the evacuation moving. Without a doubt, the Law of Service-the law of his G.o.d, Helm-prohibited the taking of bribes. But Helm had been silent for a hundred years, and these were unusual times. Kleef was beginning to see how the merchant's gold might allow him to go after the spy and clear the priests from the square.

A curtain of sapphire light flashed across the western sky, and Starmouth Way surged a few inches upward, cracking and crunching as cobblestones popped free of the street. In the next instant, the lowing and braying of terrified draft animals was echoing off the swaying storefronts, and the merchant's moon-faced wife began to grow impatient.

"Hantur, this is no time to be cheap!" she said. "With this mob, you're asking the good watchman to take his life into his hands. Give him twenty."

"Twenty gold lions?" Hantur gasped. "That's as much as he earns in a month!"

"And you had me up all night rolling cloth worth a thousand times that," she countered. "With the portals corrupted and the travel-wizards dead or gone, you'll pay him twenty platinum tricrowns, if that's what it takes to get us out of this city."

Hantur scowled, but he reached under his robe for more coins. It made Kleef's stomach turn to even consider taking the bribe, but he knew that most of his fellow watchmen would have laughed at his aversion. The Ma.r.s.ember Watch had been founded in a cesspool of corruption nearly a century ago, when the merchant's guild had decided the city needed its own militia to protect its members' interests-and to prevent the local garrison of Purple Dragons from interfering with the way they conducted business. And not much had changed in the last hundred years.

Hantur's hand came out again, filled with more gold. "Twenty lions," he said to Kleef. "If you want more, go rob someone else."

Kleef sighed. "Ten gold lions is enough," he said, putting his hand out. "And offer no more bribes. In this madness, there are too many who will see it as a chance to take your entire purse."

Hantur frowned, clearly insulted. "I know how to conduct my own business, Watchman." The merchant dropped ten gold into Kleef's palm, then tucked the rest back inside his robes. "Just get on with your job-and be quick about it. This wagon should be halfway to Suzail by now."

Kleef felt his jaw clench at the merchant's tone, but he supposed such treatment was to be expected when a watchman opened his hand for gold. He cast one last glance across the boulevard and, finding the mule cart still blocking his view, dropped off the wagon. He moved to the near side of the street, where his small troop of uniformed drunkards and wastrels stood waiting in an alcove, their short swords still sheathed and their halberds resting against their shoulders.

Kleef motioned for his troop to gather around, then said, "We can't have the evacuation choked off like this." He turned to the largest man, a heavy-jawed brute with legs like tree trunks. "Tanner, take the troop and remove those priests from the square."

"And do what with them, Topsword?" Tanner gave him a sly grin. "Dump their bodies in the lagoon?"

"If it comes to that, yes." Kleef could see the surprise in the faces of his men, for he had never been one to tolerate the mistreatment of prisoners. "It might be less work to just escort the priests outside the city walls and order them to stay there, but do what you need to do. If we don't get those wagons rolling through Wilhastle Square before the a.s.sault begins, we'll have a riot on our hands."

Kleef held out his hand, displaying the coins the merchant had given him, then added, "Clear the square within a quarter hour, and there's a gold lion for each of you."

His first blade, a young Shou from the now-flooded quarter of Xiousing, scowled in open disapproval. The rest of the troop looked confused and suspicious.

"That's a mean joke," said the oldest man, a gray-stubbled fellow named Rathul. "We're selling our lives cheap as it is. There's no need to rub our noses in-"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Kleef interrupted. "Clear the square, and the gold is yours."

The men continued to look wary.

"Right," scoffed Ardul, a fuzzy-cheeked youth. "So you can flog us for taking a bribe? This must be another one of your tests."

"No test," Kleef said, allowing his frustration to color his voice. "Times are desperate, and I need you to clear that square without Jang and me. Now."

Tanner frowned. "So, we'll all be in the square, while you and Jang are ... doing what, exactly?"

Normally, Kleef would have rebuffed the question with a curt reminder of who gave the orders. But not much was normal right then. Dozens of senior watchmen had already deserted their posts, and that morning, even the day-watch oversword had failed to report for duty.

Kleef sighed and pointed across the street. "Jang and I will be back there somewhere, watching a Shadovar spy."

"The Shadovar are inside the city?" Jang gasped. "Already?"

"I believe I've spotted one," Kleef said, hedging a little, since he had not yet confirmed his suspicions, and he did not want his men to panic or rethink their priorities. "Maybe I'm wrong, but Jang and I need to check it out."

Tanner raised his brow, studying Kleef with grudging respect. "Just the two of you? Alone?"

"No choice," Kleef said, knowing that Tanner and the rest of his troop's ready blades would be more hindrance than help against a Netherese shadow warrior. "Someone has to clear the square. Besides, if I bring more men, he'll see us coming."

Tanner's gaze drifted back to the coins in Kleef's palm. "Makes sense," he said. "But maybe you should leave the coins with me, just in case you don't-"

"Sorry," Kleef said, closing his hand. "Clear the square first. If I don't return-"

"Don't worry, we'll come and find you." Tanner grinned, displaying a set of broken brown teeth, then added, "Or whatever is left of you. You'll be carrying our gold, remember?"

With that, the big man turned and, using his halberd to shove and poke his way through the crowd, led his companions toward Wilhastle Square. Kleef motioned for Jang, then started down the street in the opposite direction, bulling his way through the pedestrians. It was difficult to see anything on the far side of the wide street, but Kleef knew his best chance of locating the Shadovar again lay in finding the red-haired woman.

Jang seemed to slip through the crowd like an eel, and he easily kept pace with Kleef. "Now you are giving bribes?"

"Not really," Kleef said.

Jang was the only man under his command whose respect truly mattered to him. The Shou wielded a blade almost as well as Kleef did, and he followed a code of honor as strict as Helm's Law. Unlike Kleef, however, Jang hadn't devoted his life to faithful service; he was simply an honorable man, and Kleef both admired and envied him for that.

"I just needed a way to keep the troop from deserting the instant we're out of sight."

"By offering them a bribe," Jang insisted. "It is good that you follow Helm. A dead G.o.d will not punish you for ignoring his laws."

Kleef winced. He was stretching Helm's Law of Service, but he saw no alternative. He knew his troop too well to think they would clear the square without the promise of gold. Moreover, Helm had been gone so long that even his most devoted worshipers considered his Law more of a guideline than an inviolable code. Under the circ.u.mstances, was it wrong of Kleef to think the same way?

After twenty paces, Kleef glanced over the backs of two stamping mules and caught a glimpse of green wool slicing through the crowd near the middle of the street. He tugged Jang's sleeve and stepped into the slender gap in front of the mules' noses. The beasts brayed and balked, but Jang quickly grabbed their halters and calmed them with a few words of whispered Shou.

Kleef located the flash of green again, about ten paces away and still pushing against the traffic. The woman had wisely concealed her hair by raising the hood of her cloak, but the green was so bright and distinctive that it drew almost as much attention.

Still, something seemed wrong to Kleef, and after a moment, he realized the woman was not moving through the press of bodies as easily as she had before. Now she was shouldering her way ahead, not looking back at all, and there was no sign of her short companion.

"Stinking h.e.l.ls!" Kleef pointed at the green hood. "Fetch the one in the green cloak. I have questions."

Jang acknowledged the order with a curt nod and slipped into the crowd. Shaking his head at his own folly, Kleef shoved through the mob in the opposite direction, until he found a spot where he could view the far side of the street. Here, the river of pedestrians was roughly ten people wide. In the absence of wagons, they were pulling handcarts and carrying heavy rucksacks, creeping toward Wilhastle Square at a tortoise's pace.

Kleef stepped onto another wagon to get a better look. Neither the red-haired woman nor her short companion were anywhere in sight, but a dusky-robed figure was skulking along the walkway, moving against traffic and still keeping a watchful eye on the middle of the street. The man's eyes were not visible, but there was a vague haziness around the edges of his silhouette, a kind of murkiness that suggested shadow magic, and Kleef began to hope that he had found the spy again.

Then the figure looked directly at him, revealing an ashen face with a long chin and brown, faintly glowing eyes. His gaze slid past Kleef without pause, then he turned around and began to move through the crowd again. As the man drifted away from the buildings, his drab robe faded to gray, and he grew indistinguishable from the rest of the mob.

Kleef resisted the impulse to go after him. He had never seen a Shadovar before today, much less hunted one. But he had been told by a member of the Purple Dragons that there were several kinds of Shadovar, and that the ones with the lambent eyes-the shades-were the most cunning and dangerous. So, trailing the spy now seemed unlikely to accomplish anything more than leading Kleef into an ambush. It would be much smarter to find the red-haired woman, then ambush the shade when he attempted to take his quarry.

Jang returned to Kleef's side, engulfed by a cloud of fragrance so sweet and fresh that it masked the stench of manure and urine that pervaded the street. The Shou's hand was locked on the elbow of the slender figure wearing the green cloak. Kleef reached out and s.n.a.t.c.hed back the hood, exposing the dirty blond hair and sunken-cheeked face of a teenage street urchin. A boy, no less. No doubt the cloak was the source of the perfume.

Kleef ordered Jang to keep watch for Shadovar, then grabbed the urchin by the back of his neck and pushed him off the street, seeking the privacy of a doorway. Once he felt certain he could question the boy without being observed by the spy, Kleef took the front of the cloak and rubbed the soft green cashmere between his fingers.

"Nice cloak," he said. "How did you come by it?"

The urchin raised his chin. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean. It's mine."

"That so?" Kleef knotted his fist into the cloth, then lifted the urchin off the ground and made a show of sniffing around his collar. "Pretty nice perfume for a guttersnipe like you-especially a boy guttersnipe."

"I'm no boy," the urchin said. "I'm a man."

"A boy ... who smells as sweet as a n.o.blewoman." Kleef lowered the urchin back to the street, but continued to hold the cloth. "You can keep the cloak, but I need to find the lady who gave it to you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the urchin said. "I took this cloak off a cart."

Kleef raised a brow. "You're admitting you stole it?" he asked. "Confessing to thievery, just like that?"

The urchin paled. "I mean, it fell off a cart, and I picked it up." He looked away. "If you want my thumb for that, I guess I can't stop you."

"You'd give up a thumb for the red-haired woman?" Kleef was truly surprised. Ma.r.s.ember's street urchins were not the kind to make n.o.ble sacrifices. "Who is she to you?"

The bewilderment that washed over the urchin's face told Kleef all he needed to know. The boy had no idea who the woman was-or even why he was trying to protect her. She had probably charmed him with magic.

"Look," Kleef continued, "if you truly want to help the lady, you will tell me where she went. She's being hunted by a dangerous sort. She'll be much better off if I find her first."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to answer me." Kleef took a deep breath, then switched to a more kindly, fatherly voice. "Since you're a man, I'll tell it to you straight. It's not me this woman is running from. It's the Shadovar."

"There are Shadovar in the city?"

"At least one-a shade no less-and he's hunting your red-haired lady." Kleef released the urchin. "Now, will you help her or not?"