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antishurtugal_rebornMG: Well, everyone, the time is upon us once again to continue our journey through Spellfire! Last time, Shandril found herself in Myth Drannor and got captured by an evil wizard, Narm also returned to Myth Drannor for poorly-thought-out-reasons, tried to save Shandril, and got a fireball to the face for his troubles. Today, we meet someone important and finally start to get a sense of just what, exactly, is going on here. Joining us once again will be Caelum and Errezha!
Chapter Five: The Grotto of the Dracolich
Caelum: Reading that title, I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this…
Errezha: Well, we start off with our usual quote, this time from Irigoth Mmar (why does your surname start with two Ms in a row, Irigoth?) High Sage of Baldur’s Gate which reads There in the darkness many a wyrm sits and smiles. He grows rich and lazy and fat as the years pass, and there seems no shortage of fools to challenge him and make him richer and fatter. Well, why wait ye? Open the door and go in. And let that be a warning to us all. *she shoots Caelum a dark look; he shrugs innocently*
MG: A quote which, alas, is rather ironic in hindsight, considering dragons will be dropping like flies before this book is done…
Errezha: Tell me you’re joking. Moving on, our chapter proper opens as Shandril passes through the portal from last time and finds herself somewhere cold… lying on stone again. She has the temerity to ask the Shadowsil where they are, which is either admirable or foolish; luckily for her, her captor doesn’t mind and just says a ruined keep. She – for some reason, the narration is now calling her the lady mage like it’s her title –
MG: Nope, just Greenwood’s favorite epithet for female wizards.
Errezha: - then hauls Shandril down some stairs, but not before she gets a look out the window and sees mountains. They were many days’ journey from Myth Drannor. I’m curious how you know that, girl-who’s-never-left-the-inn-where-she-grew-up-in-her-life. You have no idea where you are, or how far that portal took you. Well, she also notices that the stairs are narrow and steep, littered with old feathers and bird droppings – charming – as the Shadowsil pulls her along with a firm hand. And then, before anything interesting can happen, we have a scene change. *sighs*
Caelum: And we’re back with Narm, who’s apparently alive – somehow- after getting blown up last chapter and is now coming to, hearing voices arguing over him, talking about how he clearly bit off more than he could chew and they’re glad they followed him. Waking up more fully, he realizes it’s Torm and Rathan, who apparently followed him into the city. Hey, why didn’t you guys just go with him to begin with and may stop him from getting roasted? Rathan’s apparently healed Narm some with his own magic and pulled out a healing potion to finish the job – guess he either wants to save his spells or maybe isn’t actually all that powerful, huh? – and Torm assures Narm that We’ll see to the pretty girl in the rope of entanglement, whom the purple witch—with our good fortune she’s an archmage—just pushed through that gate. Okay, wow, they must have been right behind Narm to see that, and I wonder again why you didn’t just go with him openly.
MG: It’s also a bit weird to see “witch” used as an insult in this context, considering that in the Realms “witch” usually refers to the wychlaran, the all-female mages of the nation of Rashemen who are generally portrayed positively (at the very least, they’re the sworn enemies of the Red Wizards who rule the neighboring nation of Thay and are one of the Realms’ main bad guy factions). And, spoilers, the Shadowsil’s allegiances are kind of complicated and don’t, IMO, make much sense, but we’ll get to that later and she’s certainly no wychlaran.
Errezha: We then have another scene change, back to Shandril and the Shadowsil. They’re still descending the old stairs, and Shandril asks again where they are, but Symgharyl is apparently through being cooperative and stays silent. Finally, they arrive at the bottom and the Shadowsil pushes Shandril down dark corridor; Shandril complains she can’t see, which one would think would needlessly antagonize her captor, but instead, Symgharyl appears amused and conjures floating lights. At last, they reach the end of the passage; A great open cavern lay before them. Its walls were studded with fist-sized, sea-green gems—the fabled stones known as beljurils. At odd intervals, one or more would give forth a silent burst of light. They were the many tiny, twinkling stars, and their light showed that the cavern stretched a long way to the right. It was vast. Shandril shivered in the twinkling darkness. Would the mage slay her here or leave her in a cage to be tortured later, or killed or deformed by magical experiment? Or did something lair here? Shandril could hear only the soft sounds of the mage behind her and the noise of her own passage. Where in the Realms was she? I think at the moment “why” is somewhat more important than “where,” Shandril, as Symgharyl makes her kneel and then causes the lights to grow much brighter, illuminating the entire cavern and what it contains. There were gems and coins beyond number, and statuettes of ivory and jade. The gleam of massy gold caught her eye amid dazzling things Shandril had never seen before. Considering the title of this chapter, I begin to suspect just who – or what – lives here.
Suddenly, a voice speaks from the darkness. It spoke deeply and slowly in the Common Tongue, a voice old, patient, amused—and dangerous. “Who comes?” The Shadowsil declares her identity, addressing the voice as mighty Rauglothgor – ah, it seems one mystery, at least, is soon to be solved – and declares that Shandril is a gift, though the followers of Sammaster would question it first. Whoever these people are, they’re apparently the ones Shandril escaped earlier, and want to know how she managed it. Well, I can tell them how – because they were complete and utter idiots.
Caelum: Well, at about this time Shandril gets her first good look at Rauglothgor, and to her credit she manages not to scream which might be more than I could’ve managed in her place though for some reason the narrative calls her the thief of Deepingdale like that’s her title, instead of a job she had for a couple of days (and I guess Deepingdale is where Highmoon is). By its huge, arching wings and claws and tail, it was a dragon, but except for the chilling eyes, it was only bones. Its long, fanged skull leered down at her. Shandril sensed, with a stirring of defiant anger, that it was amused. Whelp, we’re in a grotto, and now we have what sure sounds like a dracolich. Chapter title – explained. Old Raughlothgor tells Shandril to look at him – or it? The pronouns aren’t very consistent here – and though she tries to struggle, she’s forced to meet his eyes. Those eyes bored into her very soul. And apparently the process is literal and goes both ways, because then this happens. When men first had come to the Sea of Fallen Stars and fought with the bugbears and kobolds of the Thunder Peaks, it had been old—this sly and gnarled giant among dragons. In mountains the elves called Airmbult or “Storm-fangs,” Rauglothgor had been the fangs amid the storms. Rauglothgor the Proud, dragonkind had called the creature, for its presumption and quickness to take offense or pick quarrels. So, yeah, Shandril is basically getting Rauglothgor’s whole life story dumped into her head at once. Iomedae help me, I hope she doesn’t end up like Harrymort, but there’s probably only so many evil undead dragon memories you can hold in your head with your sanity intact. So, we – and Shandril – learn that Rauglothgor used to kill other dragons and steal their treasure to add to his own hoard, and Rauglothgor became strong and terrible, most mighty among dragons. It thrust aside pretense and prudence and killed all other wyrms it met; in air, on land, and even in their lairs, slaying with savagery and skill, and adding hoards anew to its own.
Errezha: Of course, though it takes a long, long time, even dragons get old eventually. And that’s when Rauglothgor met the Cult of the Dragon who promised him eternal life, and by their magic transformed him into a dracolich. Dead it was and yet not dead. The years touched not its vigor and might, for it had become only bones and magic. Its strength of Art could not be diminished by age. However, as time passed Rauglothgor became increasingly bored and tired, seldom flying abroad any longer, his only company the cultists who still bring him treasure in tribute. To live forever was a curse. A lonely curse. And yet, there are still far too many who seek to do so, as I can attest from my experiences in my homeland. Well, Rauglothgor withdraws his attention and Shandril snaps back to herself, apparently still sane, and the Shadowsil asks Rauglothgor if she may question their captive before handing her over; he agrees, though he thinks she knows little of anything, I deem. From her performance so far, I have to agree with the dead dragon. Symgharyl asks Shandril her name – which she gives – her parents’ names – she doesn’t know – where she grew up – the Rising Moon Inn in Highmoon – and how she got to Myth Drannor, which Shandril explains. Then her questions become stranger, asking about Shandril’s brother, who she doesn’t have, her tutor, who she also doesn’t have, and where her “chambers” are, which she doesn’t understand, leading the Shadowsil to scream tell the truth, brat! With her face contorted by rage, her eyes blazing. Well, now. Temper, temper, Symgharyl.
Caelum: Well, Rauglothgor’s apparently amused by this exchange, but he finally butts in and tells the Shadowsil that Shandril’s not lying – his magic would tell if she was (so why didn’t you handle the questions, Your Almighty Boniness? Or at least said this earlier). This leads the Shadowsil to conclude that she’s not the missing Cormyrean princess, Alusair – wait, was that in question? – and to wonder how is she such a sheltered innocent? She’s not simple, so far as I can tell. Well, lady, it’s because she never left the inn she grew up in, but I’m not thinking so highly of your intelligence if you really can’t tell the difference between a kitchen maid and a runaway princess. I’d think that’s two entirely different kinds of sheltered – not that I’ve met any princesses, personally.
MG: I’ll note that Princess Alusair Obarsykr of Cormyr would go on to become a fairly prominent recurring Realms NPC, eventually earning herself the title “the Steel Princess” and later “the Steel Regent” when she became regent for her infant nephew following the deaths of her father and elder sister. So, it’s a little weird that the very first mention of her in a novel was this bizarre little case of mistaken identity that we didn’t even know about until after it was debunked (no, the actual Alusair will not be showing up at all in this trilogy, for the record).
Errezha: Rauglothgor doesn’t care that Shandril’s not a princess; he thinks she’s interesting (his standards must be low; then again, he apparently doesn’t meet many people who aren’t crazed cultists) and tells the Shadowsil to keep asking questions for his amusement. She asks if Shandril was a member of the Bright Spear, which we all know she was, and the Shadowsil’s cruel laughter confirms her fears about their fate (something she hasn’t been worrying about much for the last couple of chapters we’ve been in her head, I’ll note). Then the Shadowsil asks again how Shandril escaped capture, which Shandril already told her; predictably, this causes her to snap with anger. Who was this cruel wizardess to drag her here and bind and question her thus? Her response only amuses Rauglothgor further; “She has a temper, Shadowsil; beware! Ah, this is good sport!” You don’t get out much, do you, old dragon? Symgharyl now has one more question - Who was that fool who attacked me before we took the gate here?” And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere with no buildup, a voice answers: My name, witch… is Narm! Impressive, considering the last time we saw you, you were still half-conscious and only partially healed, and had no idea where you were going or why. I’m sure the tale of how you got here is thrilling.
Caelum: Well, Narm shoots some more magic missiles at the Shadowsil, this time more effective, causing her to double over in pain and shock. Shandril looks up, and High above, at the mouth of the cavern, stood six humans. Two in robes stood in front. The one who’d spoken she recognized from those last moments before the magic gate. He was young and excited. The other, a woman whose hair was as long as the Shadowsil’s, stood with one hand outstretched. Tiny wisps of sparkling smoke curled from it in the wake of the magic she’d just hurled. Okay, so that’s how the magic missiles worked better – someone more powerful was casting them (is that you, Jhessail? Or Illistyl? All we know is you’ve got long hair…) And I guess Narm had help getting here. Are these all more knights?
Errezha: *rolling her eyes* Prince of Law save me. Well, Rauglothgor roars in challenge and Shandril tries to tackle the Shadowsil, who teleports away before she hits – for some reason Shandril is still the thief of Deepingdale for about the third time this chapter. Odd. The Shadowsil, in any event, appears behind the newcomers but one of them blasts her with another spell, and she falls back, cursing. While the long-haired woman – Jhessail? Illistyl? – trades spells with Rauglothgor, the lightning illuminates two figures leaping down to her: a mighty man with blue-gray armor and a sword in hand, and the young man named Narm. Narm calls out to Shandril, calling her you from the Rising Moon – in his defense, he still doesn’t know her name – and declares he’s here to rescue her, when Rauglothgor suddenly breathes a fireball, shaking the whole room and Shandril, at this point, wisely decides to flee. While looking for a way out, she notices the Shadowsil perched on a rock, swatting at insects instead of spellcasting – is now really the time or the place, Symgharyl? – while the armored man, the long-haired woman, and an elf man engage Rauglothgor, to no discernable effect. See, Caelum, this is why we don’t pick fights with monsters bigger and stronger than we are.
Caelum: It was one time… okay, maybe a bit more than that… well, Narm is trying to catch up with Shandril, who is still “the thief of Deepingdale” and desperately trying to get away while all these powerful people are busy fighting each other, but unfortunately as far as she can tell Rauglothgor’s between her and the way out. Suddenly Narm’s at her side and tells her to get down, since yon witch-mage – witch-mage? Am I the only one who thinks that’s a little redundant? – has gotten away from the insects. And sure enough, the Shadowsil’s suddenly blocking their path – and then Torm pops up out of nowhere and literally kicks her out of the way. Huh. I had no idea evil wizards went down that easily. Don’t they usually have contingencies and things?
Erreha: In my experience, yes. Anyone who kicks Mother should expect to lose the foot, at least. Narm then suddenly chants “By grasshopper leg and will gathered deep, let my Art make this one”—he touched her knee—“leap!” Which is apparently supposed to be a spell, though it doesn’t sound like any spell I’ve ever heard. Shandril does so and manages to jump all the way to a high ledge where she watches the Shadowsil still fighting Torm before turning to run down a corridor. The whole place is shaking now, and Shandril prays when will this nightmare end? And as if in answer, she suddenly hears Rauglothgor give a terrible cry and then the entire complex begins to collapse! Girl, has no one told you to be careful what you wish for? Finally, the quaking stops and Shandril finds herself in a partially collapsed corridor, conveniently with a sphere of crystal. Its curves were glossy-smooth, and it was a little larger than a man’s head. The radiance, steady and white, came from within. Perhaps it could serve as a lantern.…
Caelum: Using the light, Shandril finds that she’s in a dead end, albeit one filled with treasure. But at least she’s not alone! Narm lay on his face—still and silent. A pile of stones half-buried his legs. Well, I don’t know how you got here, and you’re unconscious and half-buried, but at least you’re not dead? Shandril takes a moment to study him more closely - His eyes were closed, his mouth slack—and still he was handsome, this man. He’d tried more than once to help her.
Errezha: *disgusted noise*
Caelum: Well, Shandril takes a moment to cradle his head, and then Narm wakes up and starts babbling about devils – I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be doing that for a while, poor man – before realizing where he is (which isn’t much better). Narm apologizes for his outburst once he’s back to his senses, then he and Shandril get to shifting rocks until they get him free, at which point they introduce themselves. Great, now everybody knows each other. They remember each other from the inn, and then Narm declares that “I would know you, Lady Shandril,” he said carefully. “Since first I saw you at the inn, I’ve … wanted to know you.”
Errezha: *more disgusted noises*
Caelum: …do you have a single romantic bone in your body?
Errezha: No. And if I did, it would prefer romances that involve people who actually know each other, not whose entire interactions prior to this scene consisted of silently making big eyes at each other across a crowded inn! Also, and this is minor all told, but as Shandril is a commoner, I’d think “Mistress Shandril” would be a more appropriate form of address than “Lady,” though I’ll be the first to admit I’m not up on the proper customs in the… Dalelands, right?
MG: Err, about that whole “Barely knowing each other” bit, just wait a few chapters (or, honestly, for later in this very chapter) until you see what’s coming…
Errezha: I can hardly wait. Well, our lovebirds finally stop staring at each other and realize that they are, in fact, in a collapsed cave and have no way out, and start desperately looking for one. Shandril asks Narm if his Art can open a way, but he says that’s beyond his skill and that he has to sit down. They share what little food they’ve got between them, and start asking each other questions, with Shandril explaining about the Shadowsil and Narm about how he fell in with the Knights of Myth Drannor who are indeed, it would seem, the company that carried out the (attempted) rescue (though I’m not sure how Rathan and Torm got them all together and to Myth Drannor so quickly, since last we saw, those two were the only ones there). And apparently, they just came through the Shadowsil’s gate after her – Symgharyl, did you not close it behind you, or at least ward it to alert you if you were being followed? Mother would be so disappointed if you were her student. Well, Shandril apologizes for leading Narm here, and he apologizes for being bad at rescuing, and so everyone is sorry for their own role in this mess. That’s when the conversation turns to Rauglothgor, and Shandril wants to know what he is, so Narm explains about dracoliches, evil dragons who pursue undeath to become immortal just as a fell mage becomes a lich. Hence the name. A depraved cult of men worship dracoliches. They believe ‘dead dragons shall rule the world entire.’ They serve all dragons so they’ll be favored when this prophecy comes to pass. Shandril asks how a mortal can possibly serve an undead dragon except as a meal (girl, you are aware that liches, dragon or otherwise, don’t actually need to eat and, indeed, lack functioning digestive systems altogether?), and Narm explains that they help with the transformation to undeath, and then bring treasure, news, magic, captives and the like. So, about what one would expect. He concludes that although the cult worships all dracoliches, there’s one that they revere in particular, and it’s not Rauglothgor but rather Shargrailar the Dark. It has torn apart armies, rumor has it. Hmm; I wonder if that might be important later on?
MG: I’d like to jump in to add a little background on the Cult of the Dragon. There are a number of major villainous groups running around the Realms, but I’d say there are about five who have the highest profile in-universe and recur most often in the fiction, and the Cult is one, having persisted as major baddies across the entirety of the history of the Realms as a published setting, starting from this very early novel and continuing even into the current Fifth Edition (where they were the main antagonists of the Tyranny of Dragons adventure path). And it’s really obvious that Shandril is acting as an audience surrogate here, because I find it incredibly hard to believe that a girl who’s spent most of her life working at an inn that caters to adventurers, and spying on those same adventurers and listening to their stories, hasn’t heard of the dangerous extremist group that runs around worshipping undead dragons and committing various unsavory and often violent acts in their name – the Cult’s not the most subtle of organizations, and heroic (and not-so-heroic, since even most of the other major bad guy factions don’t like them) adventurers cross swords with them all the damn time. It’s just very strange that Narm knows this, and she doesn’t (though he might know more about the dracoliches themselves, and how they’re made, since he's studied magic and she hasn’t; I’ll give Greenwood that). High-ranking members of the Cult wear purple robes (for which they are known, creatively, as Wearers of Purple) as the Shadowsil does, and Sammaster, who was namedropped earlier this chapter, was the Cult’s founder (specifically, he was a renegade former Chosen of Mystra turned very powerful lich; at this time, he was presumed dead and thus plays no direct role in Shandril’s Saga beyond getting periodically namedropped, but he’d later turn up alive – or unalive, as it were – as the big bad of the Year of Rogue Dragons story arc in the mid-2000s).
As for the other major villain groups, the Zhentarim will be showing up later in this very book (and have been alluded to already) and I’ll have more to say about them when we get there, and the Red Wizards of Thay will be mentioned but won’t get involved directly until book three. The drow won’t be showing up at all, and the last of the big villain factions are the Shadovar, who wouldn’t be introduced until the transition from the second to third edition of the game long after this book was written or set (though they’d eventually take the crown as arguably the big bad faction of the whole setting, outstripping the others).
Caelum: Huh. Well, Shandril’s quiet for a while, digesting this, and then asks Narm how powerful he is – that sounds personal – and he admits he’s not very. My master was a blusterer but capable, though he never hurled magics such as Lady Jhessail of the Knights did, there. So, long-haired lady was Jhessail after all; makes sense. But Narm himself, as we’ve already mentioned, doesn’t have any magic that can get them out of this cave. But Shandril does promise Narm he’s not worthless, your magic was strong and swift when I needed it. I—I’ll stand with you and trust in your Art, if you’ll have me. And so, they embrace, knowing that there’s a decent chance they’ll both be dead before long. Before anything else can happen, something falls by one of the walls, and Narm finds its one of the coins from Rauglothgor’s hoard – and Shanril’s sitting on a whole pile! He suggests they take some; if die we must, why not die rich! Shandril has something else in mind, though, muttering that if they really are going to die there’s something else she wants and grabs his arm. Narm was surprised at her strength. Words failed them both. His discarded pack fell across the globe. Neither noticed as they twisted and arched fiercely in the darkness. Well, uh, that certainly was fast, and you two barely know each other, but considering the circumstances… *he blushes furiously and looks away*
Errezha: *rolling her eyes* To spare Caelum’s sensibilities, we get a scene change. Sometime later, Narm and Shandril are both exhausted and lying staring at each other, and Narm declares that “I know it’s been but a short time since we met, but … I love you.” You know literally nothing about her except that she worked at an inn and got kidnapped by an evil cult; that’s not a foundation for love. I think I’ll file it under “mutual lust and fear of imminent death,” but Shandril, alas, is less pragmatic. “I think I’ve loved you since we first saw each other at the Moon. That seems very long ago—a lifetime at least!” She then declares that she’s not afraid to die if he’s with her and ugh. I want to go back to the dracolich. He was far more entertaining, not to mention less sappy. However, the afterglow of sex seems to have given Narm inspiration, as he declares that they can dig their way free! *facepalm* And should probably dress first, not that he thinks to mention this. Finally, they do get dressed, if only for the cold, and Narm found another treasure for his lady. He bestowed upon Shandril a ring and bracelet joined by fine chain…Chain and all gleamed with many sapphires. In this context that had better have some magic that will help you escape. And why does she have people randomly giving her jewelry, anyway? No one ever did anything like that for me…
Caelum: *awkwardly* I guess that explains some things? I mean, I could probably buy you a bracelet or something, if that would make you feel better, except you’re richer than I am and I wouldn’t want to imply anything by it and now you’re giving me that death glare you do and… okay, moving on, let’s get back to the story, shall we? And forget I said anything? Well, Narm then finds a dagger for himself, and he and Shandril start shifting rocks, and then suddenly a long-necked, worm-tailed lizard emerges through the cracks. They stop to stare at it, and then suddenly it transforms into a humanoid figure! Symgharyl Maruel stretched slim arms and smiled at them triumphantly. “So we meet again. Cower there, dear,” she told Shandril with a sneer, “while I deal in Art with this young lion of yours.” The Shadowsil turns towards Narm, who responds with a look of brave despair – honestly, I think that’s just fatalism – as she casts her spell, and then Shandril launches herself between them, thinking that At least she would have the satisfaction of seeing the witch-mage surprised before she herself died. And so, we end our chapter on yet another cliffhanger. And I still think “witch-mage” is redundant.
MG: I agree, and it’s still weird in-setting. Anyway, the parts with Rauglothgor weren’t bad (then again, I like dragons, and I like liches, and he’s both, so I might be biased) but this chapter also introduced Spellfire’s love story and gave us a taste of how rushed it’ll be. As for Rauglothgor – alas, he’s not nearly as important or threatening as his introduction here made him seem. And Shandril herself has so far has a bad habit of being damselled, though she’ll shake it off before long in dramatic fashion. Next time… next time we meet another group of bad guys completely unrelated to the Cult (or any of the big five I mentioned earlier), who are completely superfluous to this series but get shilled as a big deal anyway because Greenwood seems to like them and they’re a recurring element of his books, there’s more fighting in the dracolich’s lair, the first steps of Shandril’s ascension from girl in over her head to person of mass destruction begin, and Elminster, alas, makes his return. We’ll see you all then! As for pics, while Rauglothgor himself, to my knowledge, has never been illustrated except on the cover of Spellfire itself (yep, that’s him, and we’ll get the cover scene in a few chapters), have a pic of a generic dracolich (if there can be such a thing) here:
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