Chapter Twenty-four: Forgelight and Moon’s Glow.

27th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing (1492 D.R.), one bell after highsun

Passing through the now-familiar training courtyard, I see members of the Order of the Gauntlet, mostly Human and Dwarven, practicing archery. Among them is the young woman that I had such a pleasant talk with in the Records Hall. I wave to her as I pass. Busy with her arrows and glancing nervously at her instructor, she gives a stilted little bow in return. Her teacher is a fairly young Chondathian man, clean-shaven and serious. I nod to him politely and continue on into the temple building.

I find Saer Savra frowning at drifts of paper scattered over her desk.

“Good day, Saer! I apologize for disturbing you at your work.” I call cheerfully. “But I am happy to see you. And, I believe, have much to tell you that you will find interesting. My companions and I have had some distressing experiences these past days and I seek your counsel.”

The knight’s sea-glass eyes light up with interest.

“Hello, Saer Skyshard. I am pleased to see you too. And no apology is required. I am happy to take a respite from paperwork. Come, sit! What are these distressing experiences?”

Eager for the older knight’s advice, I make a full report of the last day to Saer Savra. I start with our journey to the Snobeedle Meadery where I received the unexpected but most welcome news that Eliana was guided here by Mielikki. I discuss the menacingly mysterious language of the prophecy that Elie was granted by her goddess. Then I report on the battle with the fungal contamination and our suspicion that we were fighting against a working of Zuggtmoy. I describe the missing member of the Emerald Enclave, Galerina, and the information that Lady Jeryth was willing to share about her. I tell Saer Savra of Eliana’s plan to follow the clues provided by her prophecy, as well as by recent events. And how these hints all lead to the Mere of Dead Men. I finish with the unnerving encounter with a possible Shape Shifter in the market this morning.

My throat dry, I lean back and look over at Saer Savra’s face as she quietly absorbs my news.

Her smell has all the comfort of a library: dusty paper, ink, and glue. Along with a peppery, medicinal note. And fine leather. Underneath all of those cosy fragrances is something that makes my hair shift with restless, fearful excitement, like feathers ruffled by a coming storm. It is the scent of a gale whipping, heedless and fierce, around rocky hills.

“Eliana Cooper…that is the archer that was with you during your first visit to us here, was it not?” Saer Savra muses.

“Yes. That was Elie. She is a gifted archer and tracker. And a follower of Mielikki.” I reply.

“Hmm, interesting that she is on a Divine Quest. I did not get a sense of that. But then, she was somewhat reserved during her visit here. And it is hardly surprising that she did not show interest in the Order. It is rare that adherents of the nature-focused deities wish to join our ranks. Too much bloody battle and not enough focus on the peace of green spaces for their preference.” Saer Savra concludes with a grim smile.

I listen in silence.

“This Galerina that you speak of? I believe I know this Healer.” Saer Savra’s face looks more gaunt than before, and much of the light has left her eyes. “I recognize her name from our campaign in the Dessarin Valley. She was part of the Cult of the Black Earth. Serving Ogremoch. A foul spirit! Styling itself Prince of the Earth.” 

“She…she was on the opposing side?” I stammer out.

“Oh yes. But I cannot say what her exact involvement was. I do not know that. Nor do I know what happened to her there.” 

Saer Savra speaks calmly but her voice has grown hoarse.

I have no answer. Sitting back, I shake my head in disbelief. I cannot say why I am so shocked. Perhaps because Blossom had spoken glowingly of Galerina’s help in Undercliff? And Lady Jeryth had shown such warm concern for her as a valued member of the Emerald Enclave? I worry for Eliana. She has taken on her very first mission for the Enclave. And now I must tell her that she has been tasked to find and rescue a dark cultist!

Saer Savra studies me, silent and remote. She appears unsurprised by my distress. She simply waits, observing, as from an untouchable distance, the ebb and flow of my feelings. And yet when I, in my turn, look closely at her, I see the shadows of pain and regret slip darkly across Saer Savra’s expression. Her eyes have turned into windows into a dreadful time and place.

“Elodie.” The knight’s voice breaks into the quiet. “Bear in mind forgiveness. Remember that many of those who fought in this conflict, regardless of what side they chose, have taken some darkness back with them. Galerina is not the same person as she was going into the Valley. None of us are.”

I stare eager questions at her but her eyes have clouded over and she looks away quickly. She shuffles papers on her overcrowded desk. 

“So Eliana Cooper means to follow Galerina’s trail into the Mere. Do you plan to accompany her there?” Saer Savra’s tone is once again businesslike.

“She is. And yes, I believe that I will go with her. Once I have fulfilled some of my obligations here in the Deep.  The most urgent of which is dispatching the Hag at the manor we now own. And there is also the Dung Sweeper’s Guild – our company has promised to help safeguard them at their work for a time. And, of course, the necromantic threat at the City of the Dead. I hesitate to leave Amb…to leave Waterdeep until that mystery has been resolved. But yes, after that I believe that I will join Eliana on her journey north.” I respond.

Saer Savra meets my gaze again, smiling once more.

“Well, it seems that Tyr is again dictating events by sending you to me now. What a blessing!When you go north, I will have an assignment for you. It would be very helpful to me if you would, as you travel to the Mere of Dead Men, check in on Saer Braford Roaringhorn, a member in good standing of our Order.”

Saer Savra explains that Saer Roaringhorn, a divine knight of Lathander, has taken a contingent of the Order out of Waterdeep. They rode north with the goal of helping to keep peace on the High Road. His last report stated that he meant to reclaim Iniarv’s Tower and use it as an outpost of the Order of the Gauntlet. Saer Savra would like me to seek out the knight and to offer him any aid that I can in his task.

“The High Road was once a safe path for trade but it has become infested with bandits.” Saer Savra explains. “Be watchful, Saer Skyshard! You may encounter predatory crews from both Waterdeep and Neverwinter.”

“Certainly. I will heed your words. And I will find this Saer Roaringhorn.” I assure her. “But first, my friends and I must defeat the hag, Gristlegums. 

“I have read General Stormbringer’s report of the battle at Trollskull Orphanage. She used a term that I am unfamiliar with. Do you have any knowledge of Soul Larvae, Saer Savra?”

“I believe that they are Fiendish creations.” Saer Savra speaks steadily but her face grows a shade more pale than before. “They are souls that have been twisted and tormented. And, finally, altered beyond all recognition. They are used as a form of currency in the Lower Planes. And entirely lost. Beyond saving. All that you can offer them is release.”

I shudder. Knowledge is always precious and often useful. But I half-way wish that I remained ignorant; that the knight had been unable to answer my question.

“We expect to fight creatures both Fiendish and Fey.” I say through clenched jaws. “And have been advised to use blessed or enchanted weapons if we can. Is there anyone here at the Order who might bless my blades before battle?”

Saer Savra’s face brightens. It is fierce delight – the warrior’s eagerness – that has come over her.

“Come with me.” She says simply.

Saer Savra leads me deeper into the labyrinthine complex of Tyr’s temple. We wind through several passageways when I begin to hear hissing and crackling. And the rhythmic noise of metal clanging against metal. The smells of smoke and heated iron tickle my air. In response, I feel my heart stir and beat faster. We pass down a dim stone-walled corridor and find ourselves outdoors. 

Before me is an interior courtyard, open to the sky. Woolly clouds have massed above the Deep and any sunlight that manages to break through them is streaky and wan. No matter; the scene in front of me glows with its own hot light. As seems to be the case with any open space in the Halls of Justice, the courtyard is used, at least in part, as a sparring yard. But the centerpiece of this place is a smithy, dominated by a massive forge.

Work continues uninterrupted as Saer Savra leads me towards the smithy. A tall pale Human man, Illuskan I would guess by his scrubbed pink skin and the gray fur edging his leather jerkin, is working the bellows. His face is placid and his eyes are clear. Muscles pumping rhythmically, he makes his task look effortless. His movements are so smooth that he almost appears to be part of the mechanism. Then his eyes flick in our direction and his face breaks into the sweetest smile I have seen since our last meeting with Floon.

“Saer Savra! Welcome!” 

His voice breaks a little on his enthusiastic greeting. He is younger than his height and strength make him appear.

Hearing his call, a second figure pauses in her work and turns towards us. It is a Gold Dwarf. Working so close to the heat of the flames must be sweltering. The Dwarven smith has cut her leather shirt back to its most minimal form; leaving arms, shoulders, and midriff exposed. Each well-defined muscle is burnished by firelight and sweat as she moves to greet Saer Savra. Her face is beardless but bushy muttonchops spread up her cheeks, melding with a mane of copper-bronze hair that is braided roughly back off her face. Half of which is marred by a twisting scar. Her undamaged eye is a deep gold.

“Saer Savra! To what do we owe such an honor today?” 

The Dwarf’s greeting is less respectful than the Human boy’s and her grin is roguish.

“Saer Hilde, I have brought our newest initiate to meet you: Chevall Skyshard. Chevall, this is Saer Hilde Drosshelver, Weapons Master of the Order of the Gauntlet. And Hammer of Moradin. Saer Hilde, Saer Skyshard will be requiring a special blade. Her task is to travel to Shadowfell and battle a Hag” 

“I am pleased to meet you. My apologies for interrupting your work.” I bow formally and then look with interest at the forge.  

Saer Hilde nods to me briefly, then turns back to Saer Savra. They trade a rapid stream of insults in a way that only good friends would dare to do. And, throughout their banter, the knights talk of weapons. They start by discussing Saer Hilde’s ongoing work but soon their talk turns to other blades and other times. Times of dire need. They talk of the heroism of those who answered the call and wielded those blades at need.

I listen with delighted awe. I am in the presence of not only two brave warriors, but also experts in the craft of weapons making. Suddenly, in the midst of their tale-sharing, Saer Hilde turns to me.

“What is it that you carry? Let me see your blades.” She demands abruptly.

I unsheathe Quen and Vess, ceremoniously turning them hilt-first and passing them to the Weapons Master.

“They belonged to my Grandmama.” I say with proud solemnity.

Saer Hilde weighs the blades in her strong hands, examining each part of the swords closely and giving each a quick swing as she judges the balance. This is all as I expected. What comes next though…that I did not anticipate.

Saer Hilde takes one swift step, then spins into a graceful pose. Muscles rippling, glowing in the forge’s heat, she twirls and dips through the training yard.

Time passes. I am uncertain how long of an interval goes by. Eventually, when the golden-bronze blur slows and separates once more into a Dwarven woman holding two gleaming blades, I realize that my mouth is hanging open. I close it with an embarrassed snap. 

But – but, Saer Hilde is a Dwarf! Gifted weapons-maker as she certainly is, she is still a Dwarf. I have lived and fought alongside enough Dwarves to make me very respectful of their skills in battle. They are strong and determined and fearless. Hefting mighty weapons with little effort and seemingly unstoppable momentum. But my blades are Elven-forged. Fine and light, every inch of every curve carefully calculated for nuanced precision. They are, after all, made by the Avariel for use in the deadly elegance of aerial battle. And yet…

And yet I have never seen Quen and Vess wielded with such grace as I just witnessed in Saer Hilde’s dancing display. Her speed! The finesse of her movements! I am still trying to make sense of the whirling perfection so carelessly demonstrated here. Flabbergasted, I accept my blades back without speaking. But I glow as brightly as the forge nearby. Impatient desire fills me. I must learn to move like that! I have to master these steps. I must train with Saer Hilde to become as adept with my own swords as she clearly is!

“Moon-touched will be the way to go.” Saer Hilde says matter-of-factly to Saer Savra. 

Both knights seem oblivious to my feelings, even as my hair tangles wildly and small golden sparks, tiny replicas of the fiery gleams breathed out by the forge, form in the whipping curls. Bidding me to wait in the yard and not bothering to explain Saer Hilde’s intriguing remark, they leave together for the armory. 

“And you keep working that bellows!” The Dwarf directs this stern order at her assistant. “Do not be slacking just because I am out of sight!”

I walk over to the young man at the forge. His smile has turned worshipful as he stares at Saer Hilde’s retreating back. I imagine that my face reflects his feelings.

“She – Saer Hilde – she is really remarkable.” I say.

“Yes!” His youthful voice overflows with admiration. “She is just wonderful! There is no one else like her.”

He tells me of his training with the Weapons Master and the time passes quickly until the knights return. 

Saer Hilde is carrying a short sword. The hilt is silver and the sheath is dark blue and intricately worked. She pulls out the blade with a flourish. I catch my breath. The sword glows with a gentle silver light.

“This is a moon-touched blade.” Saer Hilde explains, sheathing the sword and passing it to me. “Magical. It creates light when you are in darkness. It was forged in Mithral Hall.”

My hand trembling a little, I take the sword. 

“Thank you so much!” I exclaim, deeply moved.

“It is a loan. Thank me by ending the evil that you will face. And take care of this blade! I expect it back in pristine condition. Anything else and I will have you back here, taking a turn at the bellows!” Saer Hilde growls.

Examining my new weapon with delight, I regain sufficient self-possession to address the Hammer of Moradin once more.

“Thank you Saer Hilde, truly. I will not allow anything to happen to this blade. I will be back at first light tomorrow to return it, just as you see it now.” I assure her earnestly.

Then, gathering enough courage to overcome my shyness, I continue.

And, perhaps, you would be willing to show me some of the steps you performed earlier? When you were testing out my swords?”

“You bring back the blade as you say. And then – well, then we can have us some sparring.” Saer Hilde responds.

Now that I am no longer near-swooning with admiration, I cannot miss the predatory smirk that Saer Hilde shoots at Saer Savra. Or the other knight’s wearily amused nod in return. Stirring restlessly, I realize that this exchange does not bode anything comfortable for me on the morning to come.

Still, I am sufficiently aflutter with the excitement of this meeting, with the wondrous borrowed blade and the promise of training with Saer Hilde, that I barely listen to Saer Savra as we walk together to the Temple’s entry hall. My attention returns with a jolt as I realize that the knight is talking about the Shape Shifter that may have been following us earlier.

“I am afraid that I have no useful answers to your questions about this woman, Saer Skyshard.” Saer Savra is saying. “There are just so many possibilities here. I will say that you should be watchful and wary. The Order has many enemies and it sounds like you may have drawn some ill-will to yourself even apart from your membership in our ranks.”

Her sigh is tired.

Looking over at Saer Savra with concern, I see that the joy of companionship and tale-telling that had filled the knight during our time at the smithy has sapped away. She looks burdened and her limp is more noticeable than before.

“Saer Savra,” I begin, fumbling sympathy winning out over self-restraint. “I was very interested in what you were willing to tell me earlier, about your time in the Dessarin Valley. I imagine your service there was not easy. I – I have not had any experience quite like yours and probably cannot offer any wisdom to bring light to that darkness. But sometimes it can be good to simply talk about what happened. I am always willing to listen.”

I glance at the knight’s face nervously. Happily, she does not seem offended by my awkward words. Saer Savra stares at me for a long time, her eyes softening.

“You are a sweet child.” She finally says. 

I have noticed this peculiarity in my travels. The Humans I meet all misjudge my age and seem ready to treat me as much younger than I am. Even Eliana, who is probably half of our age, insists on shepherding Vaikner and myself around as if were were innocent fledglings! Still, Saer Savra is a battle-hardened warrior and my ranking superior in the Order. I owe her loyalty and respect. And so I do not mind her speaking to me in this manner. 

Also, I am acutely aware that, if a newly inducted Sky Warden presumed to speak in such familiar fashion to a proud Avariel war hero, they would be quickly reprimanded. I am grateful for Saer Savra’s kindness.

“I think that this is the time for you and your companions to be making your own stories. But I thank you Saer Skyshard. Maybe one day, in more peaceful times, we can sit in front of a fire, enjoy a good brew, and exchange tales.” Saer Savra says, smiling.

“I would like that very much.” I smile back, before again thanking the knight for her help.

Back at Saer Savra’s desk, I see, scattered among scrolls and loose leafs of paper, a copy of today’s Waterdeep Wazoo. The headline “Thayan Embassy Established” is boldly splashed across the front page. My heart clenches. 

“May I borrow this please?” I ask, eyes racing to take in the article.

“Take it. I have enough to do and do not need the temptation to distraction.” Saer Savra responds.

Folding up the paper carefully, I nod to the knight gratefully one last time and take my leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope that you enjoyed this account of Elodie’s dutiful visit to the Halls of Justice. She certainly gained much from this encounter. Not comfort, certainly. But new and troubling information from her mentor, Saer Savra. And, perhaps, an inkling of the darker story in her respected senior knight’s past. Plus she got to meet Saer Hilde, Hammer of Moradin! Which was totally awesome in every way, not complicated at all, and is definitely not going to result in any kind of humiliating and oh-so-enjoyable lesson.

For Saer Hilde:

U Can’t Touch This, M.C. Hammer (Sorry! Sorry! I couldn’t not…) 

Alright, for real though:

Army of Stone, Wind Rose

Please also visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards: