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antishurtugal_rebornWarning: This chapter contains a rather nasty death.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s All Shadows Fled! Last time, the Zhents got attacked by the undead (and we had yet more internecine Zhent intrigue, including a minor antagonist getting killed off as soon as we met him) and we had some “comedic” banter as the Knights of Myth Drannor rode to battle alongside the militia of Mistledale. Today, we continue with the campaign in Mistledale, and the Malaugrym begin to make their move. Joining us today will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Four: Softly Come the Storms
Errezha: And so, we open this chapter with, of all people, Torm – how lovely – as he’s riding along and finds his way barred by a stern-looking, ragged crone with the largest, wartiest nose Torm had ever seen was standing calmly in front of his cantering horse, hand raised, bidding him halt. *arches an eyebrow* So, is there a reason that a woman who looks like the stereotypical image of an elderly witch has appeared from nowhere, or…? But she recognizes Torm, since apparently, she’s heard a lot about him from the Harpers – all bad, I trust – and asks “Did you really get a certain part of your anatomy caught in a closet door in Zhentil Keep, or was that just a fireside tale?” *she sighs wistfully* Oh, please tell me it was true – I could use a comforting thought in these trying times! Well, Torm starts spluttering and only then realizes the woman is hovering three feet off the ground – oh, please – and then Sylune, Sharantyr and Belkram ride up and Sylune greets the old woman as Margrueth, who I don’t believe we’ve heard of before.
Calassara: Whoever Margrueth may be, she clearly knows Sylune as she recognizes her in her new body, and wonders when someone will give her a new body (sadly, probably only when it becomes useful to Elminster to do so). Sylune tells her she doesn’t want to go through what she has, and Torm wonders why, since Margrueth is clearly a mage, she doesn’t just look like whatever she wants to. Margrueth rather irritably points out that such a transformation might last long enough to seduce a man for a night, but wouldn’t hold up long-term, and besides, she’s proud of who she is and thinks it’s foolish to try and live by deception. That is… actually rather admirable. How did Greenwood create you? She then points out she could be worse off – she could look like Torm, and she could get herself, ah, caught like he supposedly did… and Errezha, you’ll be pleased to note that Margrueth guesses from Torm’s expression that that really did happen to him. I, for one, do not want to know how. In any case, Margrueth stopped them all here because the Harpers have laid traps up ahead and doesn’t want them to blunder into them (I think Torm might benefit from that, honestly!) and suggests they make their stand at Swords Creek.
Errezha: *still smug about Torm* Well, Torm wants to know why there, exactly, and Nelyssa, who I suppose rode up while everyone was talking, says that’s where they traditionally hold the line in Mistledale – I do hope, my dear, you have a better reason for fighting there than just “tradition!” Margrueth adds that they Harpers have already trapped the other shore with various spells and even some wild magic (she doesn’t explain how they got it there…) She reveals the other Harpers are in hiding nearby; Torm wonders if they’re all mages under invisibility spells (are you a thief or not, Torm? Surely hiding by mundane means shouldn’t be unfamiliar to you!) and Margrueth says none of them are. Torm insists there’s nobody here, and then suddenly someone taps his foot, and his startled horse throws him (can someone put him back on the horse so it can do it again?), though Nelyssa grabs the bridle in time to prevent the horse from fleeing and to allow Torm to fall somewhat gracefully (a pity…).
As he bounced on his belly in the dust, Torm found himself staring eyeball to eyeball with the grinning cause of his upset: a dust-covered man buried neck-deep in the earth, who held a sword, hilt uppermost, in one hand. It must have been what had tapped his boot. In his other gauntleted hand, the man held a shield that had been so thickly covered with turf and grass that it had served to entirely conceal the hole he was crouching in.
Errezha: …I was not expecting that. The man greets Torm cheerfully, and everyone bursts out laughing, including, eventually, Torm himself. He admits they got the better f him and asks Margrueth how many of these fellows are hidden around the area, which she wisely refuses to tell in case they’re being spied on. One would think Torm might have known better than to ask in the first place… apparently not! Torm claims there’s no one around, and Margrueth points out that there could be any number of invisible mages, or mages scrying, and they’d have no way to know (while I certainly appreciate having someone else lecture Torm about his many failings, he seems to be especially stupid this chapter, doesn’t he?). Torm suddenly wishes Margrueth was his mother, and she also wishes that, and what has this conversation even turned into? But Margrueth seems to think she’d have raised Torm better than whoever did raise him managed, and that doubtless many ladies and victims of theft would thank her for it. *hoists an imaginary glass* Hear, hear. Torm is less than thrilled about that, and everyone else laughs as the scene ends.
Calassara: We cut to someone exclaiming bloody bats! – is that supposed to be a swear word? That’s just cute! – as he disentangles himself from a trip wire. It turns out that this person is a Harper, and he tells the older veteran Harper will him that they’re going to die in the battle. The older man says they’ll all die eventually but they don’t have to behave like craven cattle first, and that he’s been in about forty – forty! By the gods! – battles against the Zhents before and they’ve not killed him yet. Which… about tracks with how Greenwood depicts’ the Zhentilar’s competence, I must say. Strangely, this comforts the younger Harper, and he and his partner wave at Margrueth in the distance and set off to… whatever it is they’re doing next, I guess? But Margrueth isn’t looking at them, as she’s too busy studying a circling raven. Sylune raises an arm – shapely, of course – to blast it, but before she can get the spell off, a larger bird snatches the raven out of the air and flies off. For a moment they catch a glimpse of the attacker as a human figure in black robes with silver hair, and then it’s a bird again. Torm realizes that it’s the Simbul – of course – as she drops her kill, which reverts into the body of a black-robed Zhentarim wizard as it crashes to the ground. That was… certainly sudden. We cut back to the two Harpers, as the veteran admits he’d thought he’d seen everything, but he’s never seen it rain wizards before – ha, ha? – and the scene ends.
Errezha: *snorts* Considering how many wizards there are running around Faerun, and how many of them fly, in one form or another, I suspect this man badly needs to get out more. We then cut to Ordulin, Sembia, Flamerule 16 where we see this scene playing out:
The morning sun sent bright rays through the casement of tinted glass, casting a many-hued image of light upon the floor furs. That meant it was past time for clients of the Winking Will-o’-the-Wisp Pleasure Palace to be gone so linen could be washed, ladies could bathe and sleep, and coins could be safely exchanged at the nearest bank for soft metal trade tokens stamped with the sunburst symbol of the house.
Errezha: Upstairs in this… establishment… in the Red Sash Room we find Baedelkar the Thaumaturge, a rising star of the Zhentarim, where he is, of course, entwined with the Lady of the Red Sash. He’s busy kissing her, wondering exactly what spice she tastes like, when someone starts knocking on the door and yelling that the Inner Circle needs them in the north, now. After Baedelkar doesn’t respond, the speaker goes on that neither he nor Manshoon are used to being kept waiting by someone who is, apparently, still an apprentice, albeit one with prospects, and if he doesn’t get moving, there will be consequences. Baedalkar prepares to get up, but the lady he’s with asks for one more kiss, which he indulges… and which, as it happens, was a very bad idea.
The arms caressing his back seemed stronger and broader, the tongue in his mouth thicker. Starting to choke, the Zhentarim tried to pull away, but found that he was locked in an embrace as unyielding as steel, and tentacles were sliding around him. The eyes so close to his held a horrible flame of triumph as the flesh of her exquisite face bulged and moved, flowing up and over his own visage, covering his nose even as the cold and questing tentacle that had been a velvet-smooth tongue flowed down his throat, choking him. And preventing him from uttering even the simplest spell. Baedelkar the Thaumaturge struggled in earnest, then, fighting with sudden desperation against the death embracing him. A red roaring rose up in his head, and creeping flesh rolled over his eyes, blotting out his last glimpse of Faerûn—a sun-splashed room and those malevolent, glittering eyes in a face that had become a nightmare of flowing flesh.… Bane aid me … Bane aid me … Bane …
Errezha: *with great distaste* Between this and that revolting scene with Olorn in the previous book, I’m beginning to wonder if Greenwood has a taste for the interplay of sex, violence, and tentacles.
Calassara: Beginning to, really? The speaker outside apparently hasn’t heard any of this, as he angrily declares that Baedelkar is going to pay for keeping him waiting; meanwhile, the Malaugrym does… something to Baedelkar’s body to make it glow and convulse, then flows over to the bed where he discarded his clothes to retrieve his spellbook, components, and such, and then escapes the room just before the speaker outside blows the door down and Nentor Thuldoum of the Zhentarim storms in, stunned to find Baedelkar’s broken remains… and apparently the Malaugrym ate his eyes before it left? In any case, on that rather disturbing note, the scene comes to an end.
We cut to Swords Creek, Mistledale, Flamerule 16 as the Dale’s defenders are setting up some makeshift fortifications, with Kuthe instructing them to leave some gaps for the cavalry to charge through if needed. One of the militia members complains that he wishes the Zhents would all just catch the plague and die so they didn’t need to fight at all, while thinking about how they have barely a hundred fighters to defend the Dale against thousands of Zhentilar and mercenaries, and probably a few wizards as well. He thinks about how they probably won’t delay the Zhents more than an hour or two, and they’ll probably all die, but he has lived his whole life in Mistledale and will stay here, to stand or fall. …hmm, Greenwood seems to have dropped several abnormally compelling side characters in this chapter. If only he could do as well for his actual leads!
Errezha: Please; we’ve seen how Greenwood handles characters he likes. The side characters are better off not being focused on! He spots a falcon, who I’m reasonably sure is the Simbul, circling overhead (say, why does the Simbul not wipe out the Zhents herself? I believe she regularly lays waste to far more powerful armies, does she not? And it’s not as if wild magic ever negatively impacts Greenwood’s pets…). He then sees Kuthe talking with Florin Falconhand. Florin expects an attack this evening, though he doubts the Zhents will attack before sunset, since from their angle they’d have the setting sun in their eyes. Kuthe barks more orders at the men setting up camp, while Torm complains to Rathan about how loud Kuthe is, though Rathan thinks he’ll be good to have on their side in the battle. Rathan takes a drink from his flask, Torm wants some, then Kuthe comes over and berates them for drinking before a battle; they banter a bit and then Kuthe gives up in disgust and walks away. Which is probably the rational reaction to Torm, but is still rather underwhelming, as it didn’t end in Torm being punished for insubordination…
Calassara: Well, the two Knights banter a bit more about their dislike of Kuthe (what does Greenwood seem to have against this character?) and we cut to Sylune and Sharantyr, who at least are exasperated – and apparently Sylune signed Torm up for digging latrines without his knowledge, which is a nice touch. Though Sharantyr doesn’t want to be the first one to use the women’s, since Torm will no doubt booby trap it (how is this man more of an asset than a liability, again?). Itharr wonders if Torm will do that for the men’s latrine too; Sharantyr confirms he will, and Itharr thanks her for the warning (oh, so it’s not a way of getting back at Sylune, it’s just… something he does? That’s somehow even less mature!). One of the militia promises to set up two tents for Sharantyr and the two rangers; she says she’s fine with one, since she’s an adventurer and has dealt with worse (true or not, three to a tent does seem rather tight – wouldn’t one tent for Sharantyr and Sylune, and another for the boys, make more sense and be a bit more comfortable?). The militiaman just declares Belkram and Itharr to be lucky dogs and wanders off, which makes everyone laugh. Sharantyr herself then starts setting up the tent – excuse me? – and notes the heraldry on its side, which is apparently Sembian. Belkram makes a quip I don’t fully understand about how the Sembian nobles they borrowed the tents from think they’re just being used for farmhands, which Sharantyr finds amusing even if I don’t, and she tells Belkram and Itharr that she could get used to having them around (I don’t think I will!). They banter a bit more as they work on the tend, to Sylune’s amusement; Torm ribs them a bit as he walks by, and Sylune finally loses her patience and snaps at him to shut up, then snaps her fingers and teleports him to the other side of the camp (huzzah!). Sharantyr wonders if he’ll ever grow up; Sylune says that for some people, that’s a long journey (I assure you that I, at least, am quite confident in my immaturity after well over a century of life… though I like to think I know how to be serious when the time comes!) and the scene ends there.
Errezha: And so, we cut to Battledale, Flamerule 16 - just how many dales are there, exactly?
MG: Per the Wiki, there are around eleven inhabited dales that make up the Dalelands at this time, and several historical dales that are no longer inhabited (plus the confusingly named “Great Dale” which is not part of the Dalelands and is indeed halfway across the continent, near Thay and Rashemen).
Errezha: Lovely. Well, we find ourselves back with our old friend from last chapter, Swordlord Amglar, as he sees a flash of green light in the empty saddle of a horse nearby and puts his hand to his sword, just in case. He notes Myarvuk riding further ahead and takes a moment to mentally criticize the wizards for what bad horsemen they all seem to be. After some… quite needlessly length description, with more of Amglar thinking about how much he hates wizards, the green light slowly forms into the image of a man, and then solidifies into a dark-robed, dark-faced man who sits in the saddle like he’s been there all along, and who Amglar is pleased to note actually looks like he knows how to ride, unlike the other wizards. The wizard announces his presence – as if everyone hadn’t noticed him already! – with a formal For the glory of Zhentil Keep! To which Amglar responds by greeting him in the name of Manshoon. This, as it happens, is Spellmaster Thuldoum, who already appeared earlier in the chapter (and had his apprentice robbed and partially eaten by a Malaugrym…).
Calassara: Thuldoum tells Amglar to hand him Manshoon’s letter, if he has one; Amglar does not, as it happens, since Manshoon farspoke him and passed on his latest orders verbally. *she sighs* And we, of course, saw nothing of it. Thuldoum is none too happy with this and then turns to Myarvuk and tells him that in light of Baedelkar’s death, Myarvuk will be handling his duties as well as his own. Myarvuk agrees, though Amglar wonders if Myarvuk isn’t trying to figure out if Thuldoum didn’t kill Baedelkar himself, and if he won’t be next on the list. Beg pardon, but this does not seem like an effective strategy for running an organization! Suddenly we’re in Myarvuk’s head, as he thinks to himself that he’s never met Thuldoum before, but he knows him by reputation, which is apparently fearsome – Thuldoum was based out of the Citadel of the Raven (I’m amazed he survived Shandril, then!) and has distinguished himself in battle against bandits, goblins, and all manner of monsters, and later promoted to an instructor of battle mages. And though he apparently has a reputation for being a pompous boor – and is called Dull Doom behind his back for it – no one questions his ability, and Myarvuk isn’t going to be the first. Which all sounds impressive, but considering the life expectancy of Greenwood villains, I’m not expecting much. All Thuldoum will say about Baedelkar is that he’s dead, killed by… something that Thuldoum thinks might have been a summoning gone wrong (but we know what it really was…). Thuldoum then calls Amglar over and wants him to make a full report of everything that’s happened to their company so far; Amglar sighs and rides over, thinking about how this is going to be a long march to Shadowdale, and the chapter comes to an end.
MG: This one was… mostly setup, really, and fairly tolerable by Greenwood standards. Torm was obnoxious, of course (but at least this time people got to react appropriately to it!) and I think he enjoyed writing the Malaugrym scene a bit too much, but otherwise there’s not a lot of substance going on here (though we did meet Nentor Thuldoum, who’ll be our other main Zhent antagonist for the battle subplot, along with Amglar). I do wonder about why this Zhentilar column is apparently taking its orders from Manshoon himself, when per Fzoul in the original Avatar Trilogy, Manshoon spent the whole crisis in hiding to stay out of Bane’s way, and it should be Bane himself ruling Zhentil Keep at the moment. Manshoon never appears in person in this book, in any case, and I’m not sure if this is meant to be a sign that he’s up to something behind the god’s back, or if it’s just a continuity error (hardly a first for Greenwood!). And I’m really not sure what the chapter title has to do with… anything, really. Anyway, next time we finally check in with Elminster again (sigh…) and battle is joined. We’ll see you then!
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s All Shadows Fled! Last time, the Zhents got attacked by the undead (and we had yet more internecine Zhent intrigue, including a minor antagonist getting killed off as soon as we met him) and we had some “comedic” banter as the Knights of Myth Drannor rode to battle alongside the militia of Mistledale. Today, we continue with the campaign in Mistledale, and the Malaugrym begin to make their move. Joining us today will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Four: Softly Come the Storms
Errezha: And so, we open this chapter with, of all people, Torm – how lovely – as he’s riding along and finds his way barred by a stern-looking, ragged crone with the largest, wartiest nose Torm had ever seen was standing calmly in front of his cantering horse, hand raised, bidding him halt. *arches an eyebrow* So, is there a reason that a woman who looks like the stereotypical image of an elderly witch has appeared from nowhere, or…? But she recognizes Torm, since apparently, she’s heard a lot about him from the Harpers – all bad, I trust – and asks “Did you really get a certain part of your anatomy caught in a closet door in Zhentil Keep, or was that just a fireside tale?” *she sighs wistfully* Oh, please tell me it was true – I could use a comforting thought in these trying times! Well, Torm starts spluttering and only then realizes the woman is hovering three feet off the ground – oh, please – and then Sylune, Sharantyr and Belkram ride up and Sylune greets the old woman as Margrueth, who I don’t believe we’ve heard of before.
Calassara: Whoever Margrueth may be, she clearly knows Sylune as she recognizes her in her new body, and wonders when someone will give her a new body (sadly, probably only when it becomes useful to Elminster to do so). Sylune tells her she doesn’t want to go through what she has, and Torm wonders why, since Margrueth is clearly a mage, she doesn’t just look like whatever she wants to. Margrueth rather irritably points out that such a transformation might last long enough to seduce a man for a night, but wouldn’t hold up long-term, and besides, she’s proud of who she is and thinks it’s foolish to try and live by deception. That is… actually rather admirable. How did Greenwood create you? She then points out she could be worse off – she could look like Torm, and she could get herself, ah, caught like he supposedly did… and Errezha, you’ll be pleased to note that Margrueth guesses from Torm’s expression that that really did happen to him. I, for one, do not want to know how. In any case, Margrueth stopped them all here because the Harpers have laid traps up ahead and doesn’t want them to blunder into them (I think Torm might benefit from that, honestly!) and suggests they make their stand at Swords Creek.
Errezha: *still smug about Torm* Well, Torm wants to know why there, exactly, and Nelyssa, who I suppose rode up while everyone was talking, says that’s where they traditionally hold the line in Mistledale – I do hope, my dear, you have a better reason for fighting there than just “tradition!” Margrueth adds that they Harpers have already trapped the other shore with various spells and even some wild magic (she doesn’t explain how they got it there…) She reveals the other Harpers are in hiding nearby; Torm wonders if they’re all mages under invisibility spells (are you a thief or not, Torm? Surely hiding by mundane means shouldn’t be unfamiliar to you!) and Margrueth says none of them are. Torm insists there’s nobody here, and then suddenly someone taps his foot, and his startled horse throws him (can someone put him back on the horse so it can do it again?), though Nelyssa grabs the bridle in time to prevent the horse from fleeing and to allow Torm to fall somewhat gracefully (a pity…).
As he bounced on his belly in the dust, Torm found himself staring eyeball to eyeball with the grinning cause of his upset: a dust-covered man buried neck-deep in the earth, who held a sword, hilt uppermost, in one hand. It must have been what had tapped his boot. In his other gauntleted hand, the man held a shield that had been so thickly covered with turf and grass that it had served to entirely conceal the hole he was crouching in.
Errezha: …I was not expecting that. The man greets Torm cheerfully, and everyone bursts out laughing, including, eventually, Torm himself. He admits they got the better f him and asks Margrueth how many of these fellows are hidden around the area, which she wisely refuses to tell in case they’re being spied on. One would think Torm might have known better than to ask in the first place… apparently not! Torm claims there’s no one around, and Margrueth points out that there could be any number of invisible mages, or mages scrying, and they’d have no way to know (while I certainly appreciate having someone else lecture Torm about his many failings, he seems to be especially stupid this chapter, doesn’t he?). Torm suddenly wishes Margrueth was his mother, and she also wishes that, and what has this conversation even turned into? But Margrueth seems to think she’d have raised Torm better than whoever did raise him managed, and that doubtless many ladies and victims of theft would thank her for it. *hoists an imaginary glass* Hear, hear. Torm is less than thrilled about that, and everyone else laughs as the scene ends.
Calassara: We cut to someone exclaiming bloody bats! – is that supposed to be a swear word? That’s just cute! – as he disentangles himself from a trip wire. It turns out that this person is a Harper, and he tells the older veteran Harper will him that they’re going to die in the battle. The older man says they’ll all die eventually but they don’t have to behave like craven cattle first, and that he’s been in about forty – forty! By the gods! – battles against the Zhents before and they’ve not killed him yet. Which… about tracks with how Greenwood depicts’ the Zhentilar’s competence, I must say. Strangely, this comforts the younger Harper, and he and his partner wave at Margrueth in the distance and set off to… whatever it is they’re doing next, I guess? But Margrueth isn’t looking at them, as she’s too busy studying a circling raven. Sylune raises an arm – shapely, of course – to blast it, but before she can get the spell off, a larger bird snatches the raven out of the air and flies off. For a moment they catch a glimpse of the attacker as a human figure in black robes with silver hair, and then it’s a bird again. Torm realizes that it’s the Simbul – of course – as she drops her kill, which reverts into the body of a black-robed Zhentarim wizard as it crashes to the ground. That was… certainly sudden. We cut back to the two Harpers, as the veteran admits he’d thought he’d seen everything, but he’s never seen it rain wizards before – ha, ha? – and the scene ends.
Errezha: *snorts* Considering how many wizards there are running around Faerun, and how many of them fly, in one form or another, I suspect this man badly needs to get out more. We then cut to Ordulin, Sembia, Flamerule 16 where we see this scene playing out:
The morning sun sent bright rays through the casement of tinted glass, casting a many-hued image of light upon the floor furs. That meant it was past time for clients of the Winking Will-o’-the-Wisp Pleasure Palace to be gone so linen could be washed, ladies could bathe and sleep, and coins could be safely exchanged at the nearest bank for soft metal trade tokens stamped with the sunburst symbol of the house.
Errezha: Upstairs in this… establishment… in the Red Sash Room we find Baedelkar the Thaumaturge, a rising star of the Zhentarim, where he is, of course, entwined with the Lady of the Red Sash. He’s busy kissing her, wondering exactly what spice she tastes like, when someone starts knocking on the door and yelling that the Inner Circle needs them in the north, now. After Baedelkar doesn’t respond, the speaker goes on that neither he nor Manshoon are used to being kept waiting by someone who is, apparently, still an apprentice, albeit one with prospects, and if he doesn’t get moving, there will be consequences. Baedalkar prepares to get up, but the lady he’s with asks for one more kiss, which he indulges… and which, as it happens, was a very bad idea.
The arms caressing his back seemed stronger and broader, the tongue in his mouth thicker. Starting to choke, the Zhentarim tried to pull away, but found that he was locked in an embrace as unyielding as steel, and tentacles were sliding around him. The eyes so close to his held a horrible flame of triumph as the flesh of her exquisite face bulged and moved, flowing up and over his own visage, covering his nose even as the cold and questing tentacle that had been a velvet-smooth tongue flowed down his throat, choking him. And preventing him from uttering even the simplest spell. Baedelkar the Thaumaturge struggled in earnest, then, fighting with sudden desperation against the death embracing him. A red roaring rose up in his head, and creeping flesh rolled over his eyes, blotting out his last glimpse of Faerûn—a sun-splashed room and those malevolent, glittering eyes in a face that had become a nightmare of flowing flesh.… Bane aid me … Bane aid me … Bane …
Errezha: *with great distaste* Between this and that revolting scene with Olorn in the previous book, I’m beginning to wonder if Greenwood has a taste for the interplay of sex, violence, and tentacles.
Calassara: Beginning to, really? The speaker outside apparently hasn’t heard any of this, as he angrily declares that Baedelkar is going to pay for keeping him waiting; meanwhile, the Malaugrym does… something to Baedelkar’s body to make it glow and convulse, then flows over to the bed where he discarded his clothes to retrieve his spellbook, components, and such, and then escapes the room just before the speaker outside blows the door down and Nentor Thuldoum of the Zhentarim storms in, stunned to find Baedelkar’s broken remains… and apparently the Malaugrym ate his eyes before it left? In any case, on that rather disturbing note, the scene comes to an end.
We cut to Swords Creek, Mistledale, Flamerule 16 as the Dale’s defenders are setting up some makeshift fortifications, with Kuthe instructing them to leave some gaps for the cavalry to charge through if needed. One of the militia members complains that he wishes the Zhents would all just catch the plague and die so they didn’t need to fight at all, while thinking about how they have barely a hundred fighters to defend the Dale against thousands of Zhentilar and mercenaries, and probably a few wizards as well. He thinks about how they probably won’t delay the Zhents more than an hour or two, and they’ll probably all die, but he has lived his whole life in Mistledale and will stay here, to stand or fall. …hmm, Greenwood seems to have dropped several abnormally compelling side characters in this chapter. If only he could do as well for his actual leads!
Errezha: Please; we’ve seen how Greenwood handles characters he likes. The side characters are better off not being focused on! He spots a falcon, who I’m reasonably sure is the Simbul, circling overhead (say, why does the Simbul not wipe out the Zhents herself? I believe she regularly lays waste to far more powerful armies, does she not? And it’s not as if wild magic ever negatively impacts Greenwood’s pets…). He then sees Kuthe talking with Florin Falconhand. Florin expects an attack this evening, though he doubts the Zhents will attack before sunset, since from their angle they’d have the setting sun in their eyes. Kuthe barks more orders at the men setting up camp, while Torm complains to Rathan about how loud Kuthe is, though Rathan thinks he’ll be good to have on their side in the battle. Rathan takes a drink from his flask, Torm wants some, then Kuthe comes over and berates them for drinking before a battle; they banter a bit and then Kuthe gives up in disgust and walks away. Which is probably the rational reaction to Torm, but is still rather underwhelming, as it didn’t end in Torm being punished for insubordination…
Calassara: Well, the two Knights banter a bit more about their dislike of Kuthe (what does Greenwood seem to have against this character?) and we cut to Sylune and Sharantyr, who at least are exasperated – and apparently Sylune signed Torm up for digging latrines without his knowledge, which is a nice touch. Though Sharantyr doesn’t want to be the first one to use the women’s, since Torm will no doubt booby trap it (how is this man more of an asset than a liability, again?). Itharr wonders if Torm will do that for the men’s latrine too; Sharantyr confirms he will, and Itharr thanks her for the warning (oh, so it’s not a way of getting back at Sylune, it’s just… something he does? That’s somehow even less mature!). One of the militia promises to set up two tents for Sharantyr and the two rangers; she says she’s fine with one, since she’s an adventurer and has dealt with worse (true or not, three to a tent does seem rather tight – wouldn’t one tent for Sharantyr and Sylune, and another for the boys, make more sense and be a bit more comfortable?). The militiaman just declares Belkram and Itharr to be lucky dogs and wanders off, which makes everyone laugh. Sharantyr herself then starts setting up the tent – excuse me? – and notes the heraldry on its side, which is apparently Sembian. Belkram makes a quip I don’t fully understand about how the Sembian nobles they borrowed the tents from think they’re just being used for farmhands, which Sharantyr finds amusing even if I don’t, and she tells Belkram and Itharr that she could get used to having them around (I don’t think I will!). They banter a bit more as they work on the tend, to Sylune’s amusement; Torm ribs them a bit as he walks by, and Sylune finally loses her patience and snaps at him to shut up, then snaps her fingers and teleports him to the other side of the camp (huzzah!). Sharantyr wonders if he’ll ever grow up; Sylune says that for some people, that’s a long journey (I assure you that I, at least, am quite confident in my immaturity after well over a century of life… though I like to think I know how to be serious when the time comes!) and the scene ends there.
Errezha: And so, we cut to Battledale, Flamerule 16 - just how many dales are there, exactly?
MG: Per the Wiki, there are around eleven inhabited dales that make up the Dalelands at this time, and several historical dales that are no longer inhabited (plus the confusingly named “Great Dale” which is not part of the Dalelands and is indeed halfway across the continent, near Thay and Rashemen).
Errezha: Lovely. Well, we find ourselves back with our old friend from last chapter, Swordlord Amglar, as he sees a flash of green light in the empty saddle of a horse nearby and puts his hand to his sword, just in case. He notes Myarvuk riding further ahead and takes a moment to mentally criticize the wizards for what bad horsemen they all seem to be. After some… quite needlessly length description, with more of Amglar thinking about how much he hates wizards, the green light slowly forms into the image of a man, and then solidifies into a dark-robed, dark-faced man who sits in the saddle like he’s been there all along, and who Amglar is pleased to note actually looks like he knows how to ride, unlike the other wizards. The wizard announces his presence – as if everyone hadn’t noticed him already! – with a formal For the glory of Zhentil Keep! To which Amglar responds by greeting him in the name of Manshoon. This, as it happens, is Spellmaster Thuldoum, who already appeared earlier in the chapter (and had his apprentice robbed and partially eaten by a Malaugrym…).
Calassara: Thuldoum tells Amglar to hand him Manshoon’s letter, if he has one; Amglar does not, as it happens, since Manshoon farspoke him and passed on his latest orders verbally. *she sighs* And we, of course, saw nothing of it. Thuldoum is none too happy with this and then turns to Myarvuk and tells him that in light of Baedelkar’s death, Myarvuk will be handling his duties as well as his own. Myarvuk agrees, though Amglar wonders if Myarvuk isn’t trying to figure out if Thuldoum didn’t kill Baedelkar himself, and if he won’t be next on the list. Beg pardon, but this does not seem like an effective strategy for running an organization! Suddenly we’re in Myarvuk’s head, as he thinks to himself that he’s never met Thuldoum before, but he knows him by reputation, which is apparently fearsome – Thuldoum was based out of the Citadel of the Raven (I’m amazed he survived Shandril, then!) and has distinguished himself in battle against bandits, goblins, and all manner of monsters, and later promoted to an instructor of battle mages. And though he apparently has a reputation for being a pompous boor – and is called Dull Doom behind his back for it – no one questions his ability, and Myarvuk isn’t going to be the first. Which all sounds impressive, but considering the life expectancy of Greenwood villains, I’m not expecting much. All Thuldoum will say about Baedelkar is that he’s dead, killed by… something that Thuldoum thinks might have been a summoning gone wrong (but we know what it really was…). Thuldoum then calls Amglar over and wants him to make a full report of everything that’s happened to their company so far; Amglar sighs and rides over, thinking about how this is going to be a long march to Shadowdale, and the chapter comes to an end.
MG: This one was… mostly setup, really, and fairly tolerable by Greenwood standards. Torm was obnoxious, of course (but at least this time people got to react appropriately to it!) and I think he enjoyed writing the Malaugrym scene a bit too much, but otherwise there’s not a lot of substance going on here (though we did meet Nentor Thuldoum, who’ll be our other main Zhent antagonist for the battle subplot, along with Amglar). I do wonder about why this Zhentilar column is apparently taking its orders from Manshoon himself, when per Fzoul in the original Avatar Trilogy, Manshoon spent the whole crisis in hiding to stay out of Bane’s way, and it should be Bane himself ruling Zhentil Keep at the moment. Manshoon never appears in person in this book, in any case, and I’m not sure if this is meant to be a sign that he’s up to something behind the god’s back, or if it’s just a continuity error (hardly a first for Greenwood!). And I’m really not sure what the chapter title has to do with… anything, really. Anyway, next time we finally check in with Elminster again (sigh…) and battle is joined. We’ll see you then!