Monoliths #4: Moss

[Gurns]

I was exchanging pleasantries with the crowd near the fountain when Cirath walked up. "Ready to go?", he asked.

"Go? Ah, the fourth monolith. Yes, let's go." I was hanging around near the fountain, after all. Would I, if I had something better to do?

We headed east. "Have you gotten any better at sneaking around?" he wanted to know.

"A little." I'd practiced some, but asking a bard to try to avoid notice is like asking a halfling to try to avoid stealing.

"Good," he said, "because the fourth monolith is in Myth Drannor."

I raised a thoughtful eyebrow. All the monoliths had been hard to find, off the beaten track. But each had gotten progressively more dangerous. There'd been no danger in getting to the first, and little danger in getting to the next. But the third one I’d visited, and now this one... Myth Drannor has a bad reputation. It's not a place I go regularly.

We followed the road. Cirath wanted to chat about the monoliths, and the visions. Yes, he had quite an interest in them, and it was showing. He'd visited the monoliths himself, and seen the visions. He had seen the same visions as I, so at least that question was resolved – everyone who saw the visions saw the same ones.

He said, "One thing puzzles me. Trobriand hasn't shown much interest in conquest of cities lately, and the mechanical insects in the desert visions are his."

Isn't it amazing what information people will just "let slip". In this case, though, I doubted it was an accident.

I'd heard the name Trobriand, but knew little about him. A mage, from Undermountain. Either an apprentice of Halaster, or the Mad Mage himself in disguise. That was all I'd heard. But now... So Trobriand was responsible for the mechanical insects. And had been interested in conquering cities.

I shrugged. "I've never met nor seen this...Trobriand? I have no grasp of him."

"I have," said Cirath. "I need to find him again." Casually. "I've nearly killed him twice, though, so he's a bit shy," he added.

I chuckled. "I don't see why!"

Cirath explained, "It was just business! Well, the first time. And the second time, I was willing to let him live. At least, long enough to hear him out. Those with me didn't share that opinion, though."

"Ah, different interests, different goals," I said, trying to encourage him to continue.

"Yes, and blind faith often overrides good sense! They were committed body and soul to the dragon."

"The dragon?" I asked. "Oh, yes, what's-her-name." Yes, I did know the name, Tsakchanar – forgetting the name of a dragon is almost as dangerous as forgetting the name of a king, the main difference is that some dragons don't care while all kings do. I added, "We've never met, either."

"That bloody lizard! The only point in her favor is that she pays well and promptly."

Well, of course I took note of that. "Does she need a bard?"

Cirath shrugged. "Likely she would make use of you if you offered, but she is not one I would follow for long."

I shrugged. "That's never been my problem. People never seem to want me around that long!" I poked him. "We share that, you and I!"

He ignored me.

After a moment, I asked, "So Trobriand was raiding?"

Cirath nodded. "He was after Undermountain, and dealing with the drow to recover an artifact. He was offering the drow access to Waterdeep as payment, so he obviously doesn't wish that city to live too long."

" 'After undermountain'? As in, trying to conquor it? That's hardly 'raiding'."

We discussed this a while longer. From what Cirath said, I thought it sounded like Trobriand was trying to conquer and hold Undermountain, and use it as a base for further raids on Waterdeep and other places. Cirath thought that Trobriand wanted the drow to destroy Waterdeep, since then Piergeiron wouldn't be able to attack Undermountain. And neither would the drow, since many of them would die attacking Waterdeep. But since neither of us knew any more, the discussion was fruitless.

"He built a massive golem, too." said Cirath. "The same one that is supposedly the Vile One's current vessel. Some say that was its intended purpose. I'm not so sure, since he tried to stop that scalely glory hound from opening the Seals."

Yes, Cirath was certainly trying to let me know he didn't get along with Tsakchanar. Or that’s what he wanted me to think. But, something else was interesting.

"I hadn't known that Halaster or his apprentices did much in the way of creating golems and constructs."

Cirath corrected me. "Undermountain has its share of animated guardians. Crystal, stone, metal, flesh, perhaps others." He looked annoyed. "Who knows what the depths of that cavernous hell might hold?"

Sounded like someone had tried to find out, and hadn't succeeded.

I was curious to see how he would jump, so I said, "Well, your...rival? He probably knows."

Cirath spat over his shoulder. "That bloody cavern crawling half-wit."

I chuckled. "You asked," I told him.

Yes, Cirath still had a grievance against Nilan. What was interesting, and even more interesting since Cirath didn't mention it, was that I knew that they'd had at least two relatively recent encounters. And in neither instance had Cirath tried to attack Nilan. Threatened him and cursed him, perhaps, but not attacked.

Of course, these days, Nilan wouldn't attack Cirath unless he felt Cirath was a serious threat, or Cirath got in his way, or Vhaeraun ordered him to. Maybe part of Cirath's grievance against Nilan was that Nilan didn't consider him a serious threat.

Cirath stopped. "Here we are." The entrance to Myth Drannor.

Stealthily, quietly, we moved in.

I suppose I could make this sound suspenseful, tense. The omnious forest, looming at the edge of the city. The buildings and walls, desolate, some fallen, other standing but empty, empty. A place that seems empty, where you seem alone, and then -- a demon! Even hidden, you barely breathe, until it moves on, until you can sneak past.

But truthfully, it's boring. Yes, dangerous. Yes, you always have to be alert, move with the wind, move when there's a little noise to cover your passage. Take advantage of the smallest dip in the road, crack in a wall, corner of a building. And at the start, your nerves are keyed up, your heart is racing, you're sure you're going to be spotted the next second!

You can only keep that up for so long. After a while, your heart slows, the tension – never goes away but is at some remove. And you move slowly, cautiously, slowly, carefully, and above all, achingly slowly through the city. Boring.

We moved through what had been the mage's quarter of town, into a park. It had been beautiful once. With no one to tend it, it had become wild, chaotic. There's the monolith.

We wait. A few warriors are wandering in the park. Patrolling? It doesn't look like it. Just wandering. They look as bored as I feel. Waiting. Waiting. I want to sneeze. I don't. A bug explores my face. I try an experimental, quiet puff of air, blow it away, it doesn't work. I don't dare try anything else. Now I'm tense, bored, and annoyed. Just great.

Finally, finally, the day is done. The bugs go away. The moon rises and the runes come alive. The warriors ignore them. Maybe they don't even see them? Eventually, the warriors wander off.

Quickly, quietly, I make my way to the monolith. I touch, we merge.

    The worlds own end is from beyond the threshold of its veil
    Death is no barrier when the shadow gathers to it the agents of unspeakable evil
    Deception will be the undoing to those that oppose the darkness in discords undoing
    The serpents of the deep will waken from their sleep
    The last stand of ancient times must be found and sealed for all time
    The ancient oaths must be maintained to keep the ancient evil at bay
    From the ashes arise the Chosen, their faith and fury goes unbroken

I look down at the base of the monolith, and frown. A few, a very few runes are there, behind some moss. I scratch away the moss. Nothing. Almost nothing. I...sleep? No, I still see the park, hear the wind. But I can't move. A voice, not Cirath's, whispers in my ear. No, my ears aren't hearing this, it's in my head.

The path is begun. The future of the Realms is at stake, and only time will declare the victor of the trials ahead.

I can move again.

This was the first one. The first prophecy monolith. Placed in the middle of what was, at one time, the greatest city in the realms. Probably at the time the monoliths were created. Naturally. Where else would you put it?

A priestess could forsee the future, could forsee the Vile One's escape, could forsee the destruction of Bloodstone. But could she forsee that Myth Drannor would be destroyed, taken over by demons, avoided by anyone who might care about the Vile One's return? Oh, no. Could she forsee that her prophetic warnings would be useless, because no one would find them until after the foretold event? No, no, she couldn't be bothered with that.

"If she still lives, and I ever meet her," I told myself, "I'm going to..." I sighed. I wanted to whap her, but that probably wasn't a good idea. Given how powerful she had to be, to have created the monliths. And she might take my reproof amiss.

I still wanted to whap her, though.

Cirath and I crept out of Myth Drannor, quietly, cautiously. Slowly. So now I was tense, bored, and really annoyed. Lovely, just lovely.