Chronicles of Faerun Volume I: The Weave War

Book I: Gold and Grey

The Halls of the Lady’s College were closed, and empty now, except for the servants moving to clean up the bits of food, plates and utensils from the graduation ceremony.  Anastrianna Xiloscient stood for a moment at the main door, looking back at where she had spent the last six years of her life.  First in all classes, first in all tests, the young Sun Elf female had made few friends – her closest had dropped out of the college, angry and embittered.  Stri, as the humans called her, unable to pronounce her name correctly, was saddened to go.  She could stay on – had been offered a post as an assistant, but she was ready to take up her family’s constant quest – unite the good, and destroy the evil races of Faerun.  This was why her parents ignored the retreat – a belief in unity.     She turned away, and began walking to her home, an intricate rose-colored rock formation that rested at the base of a huge oak tree.  A family of half-wood elves lived above on excellent terms, and below the large rose rock, a dwarven smith had made a home many years ago, in some small caves – she and her family got along very well with him, too.  That was the way of Silverymoon, known by many as the “Jewel of the North.”  Why then, she thought, were wizards so jealous?  The reaction to her, an elf, taking firsts in all had been silly, in her mind.  The males wanted to marry her, the females wanted to show her up and get her dismissed.  Only Shandri, the friend who had dropped out, hadn’t cared who was first – and most times while she’d attended it was Shandri taking all the honors.  Stri’s thoughts ran along these lines as she walked through the cool late spring/early summer weather of the North.  She turned up the small path to her home and entered.     Her mother and father had left for a meeting in Evermeet.  They were due to return this evening, via a highly secret portal known only to them and, of course, the Lady Alustriel and Taern.  Stri would be leaving as soon as a method presented itself – her parents understood that.  While she was still young (only 116), it was felt she was ready to adventure, as humans called it.  She and her family called it, in Chondathan, “crusading.”  She went to her bedroom, took off her graduation robes – a very becoming cloth-of-silver set that complemented her features and made her look like a sculpture in gold and silver – and set down before a mirror.

Golden eyes stared back at her from a delicately featured face.  Fine golden hair ran in waves to her waist, with no contrast to the perfect golden bronze color of her skin.  She had inherited all of her family traits, as befits one of noble heritage.  She went over to the wardrobe and started packing – traveling robes of soft light blue wool, a sturdy pair of boots, a long cloak with a hood, of wool lined with silk, and the color of a clear blue sky.  Some long “battle skirts” as they were called – slit high to allow freedom of movement, some white silk shirts, and her belt pouches, crammed full with components for the spells in her book, plus an empty pouch and blank book for anything else she might find along the way.  As she was finishing putting these things away in her backpack – actually a magical item that held far more than it appeared, a knock sounded at the door.  She went to answer it.

The girl standing in front was no stranger – Shandri Greycastle was, as has been said, her best friend, and had remained so even after leaving the college.  Shandri was tall for a human female – she matched Stri’s 5’11”, and by their builds one would have thought them sisters.  The resemblance ended quickly, for while Shandri’s features were delicate, and in them most thought they saw a half-elven grandmother, Shandri’s hair was a deep auburn, almost black, her eyes a deep midnight blue, and her skin a smooth, unblemished white.  She was dressed as she always was – ready to leave at any moment – in black soft leather pants, high black leather boots, a grey silk blouse, a soft black leather coat, and a long, grey, hooded cloak of wool.  She had been approached, as had Stri, by most of the students, asking the two to become their lovers.  She had also been envied at first – in knowledge classes, alchemy and spellcraft her knowledge was greater than Stri’s.  The tests, however, had killed her, and one in particular – the casting of a simple light spell.  It was known that Shandri was a sorceress, not a wizard, and as such might not be able to cast the spell, so a wand was provided in accordance with the tolerance policy set by Lady Alustriel.  Shandri simply could not make the wand work, and no one, even after interviews with the High Lady, could figure out why.  She had been failed, that time and others, unable to complete examinations, though all who watched her knew she had power and had the knowledge.  In her fourth year, at the age of 15, Shandri had told all of them to go to the Abyss, cast a spell that enveloped a particularly jealous and too-friendly male in shadows, making him blind, and stormed off, back to her home in Everlund.  It took Alustriel herself to dismiss the spell, something which surprised the masters and made them all scurry about, trying to find out why her spells were so persistent.  The two of them, Stri and Shandri, had been bound by the bond of the firsts – together they could handle the jealousy and pettiness of the others.  When Shandri had left, Stri had felt alone.

“Graduated First I heard, Anastrianna – congratulations!”  Shandri smiled at her.

“Thank you, Shandri.  I’m glad you showed up today. I thought you’d forgotten when you didn’t come to the graduation.”

“I didn’t want to see ‘Groper’ again – he might have groped again, or even attacked me after that little incident when I left.  Best to let him go on his pathetic little way.”

“Did you know he didn’t leave me alone for the rest of my studies – he was always there, trying to grope and asking me to dine with him and such.  I think he needs to worry more about his studies – he was nearly last in our class.”

Shandri laughed.

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest – he’s much more suited to be an adept than a wizard, but not to hear him talk.”

“Very true.  Well, are we still agreed?  The two of us out to see the world?  We’ll have to find some way of getting somewhere, unless you want to stay in Silverymoon and roam from here.”

“Of course we’re agreed, Stri – but we’ll need to find at least one fighter, and preferably a cleric and rogue as well.  I know you have some training with a rapier, and I can use a shortspear, but neither of us will last long without someone sturdy in front.”

“That’s very true as well.  My parents had suggested we might try to hire on as caravan guards – there will be quite a few leaving for the south now that the spring thaw is here.”

“And that would be an excellent opportunity – not only to travel safely, but to maybe pick up a little coin along the way, and meet a companion.”  Shandri looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued.

“I think that’s a good idea.  How about finding one heading to the Dalelands?  Shieldmeet’s this year, and there’s supposed to be all kinds of adventurers there looking for people to join a company?”

Stri nodded.

“The Dalelands would indeed be a good place to start – there or in Cormyr adventurers, as you call them, are well received and we would have a solid base of support to start from.  Let me finish packing and we’ll be on our way.  Have you brought everything you wanted to take?  You look like you’re traveling a little light.”

Shandri laughed.

“My backpack is outside, with my shortspear and crossbow.  Father wanted to buy me a full outfit, including some wands and potions, but after the experience at school I told him not to waste his money, in case it turns out I can’t use them.”

Stri continued to add little items to her pack – a silver comb and brush, a small mirror, a length of silk rope, her two spellbooks, several different sets of clothes, a few day’s trail rations, a flask of elven wine, and finally, in a side pouch, an extra quiver of arrows for her bow.  She looked up at Shandri.

“I’ve still got room in here – if you have anything really heavy I’ll carry it in here for you – the whole thing still only weighs five pounds.”

“I’ve got all my stuff squared away, and I think I need to work on my strength anyway.  Use the extra space for treasure we might find.”

“Then let’s go.”

Stri made sure the farewell note to her parents was easily found – through trance she could find them if she needed them, anyway.  Then she belted on her rapier, slung her pack over her shoulder, put her shortbow in its case on the other side as balance, added a dagger to her belt, and picked up her staff.  She followed Shandri out, turned and locked the door.  Shandri was putting on her own pack, slinging her crossbow over her shoulder and grabbing her shortspear.  The dwarven smith, Tadregar, was sitting on his front porch.  He looked at the two as they started to pass.

“Off ta find fortune lassies?”

“Yes Tad,” Stri replied, “the sooner the better.”

“Good luck to ye.  May Moraddin smile upon ye, and all those gods what be allied fer justice.  If ye thinks ye could stand a dwarf as companion, ye might look at the coster – a caravan just came in from the Rift, through the underdark.  They’ll be gold dwarves now, not surly fellers like me!”  He laughed.

Shandri and Stri laughed with him.

“Thank you Tad.  That’s an excellent idea.  Thanks for it, for the rapier you made for me, and for the friendship you’ve shown.”  Stri hugged the dwarf, amid a few grumbles of surprise.

“That be yer goddess a speaking.  Methinks ye might have made a fine cleric had ye so chosen.”

“Hanali Celanil values all things of beauty – and friendship is a beautiful thing indeed.”  Stri smiled, waved, and passed down the street, with Shandri following.

The Coster was a large area where all of Silverymoon’s trading costers had their headquarters.  There was indeed a dwarven caravan there, still unloading from the funny carts (pulled by giant lizards) that the dwarves used.  The two girls looked at the dwarves scurrying about their tasks.  None seemed likely candidates for an adventure.  Until, just as they were about to give up, they saw one come out of the building.  He was a big dwarf, with a dwarven waraxe and a heavy mace at his side.  His heavy chain armor and shield made him out a warrior, or fighter.  He turned on the steps of the building and said to another dwarf who had come out with him.

“We’ll I’ll be off now.  Tis time to do me duty and crush some enemies of the beard.”

“As you wish,” the other dwarf replied, “We’ll miss yer company, Tenbar.  And don’t forget yer a cleric and priest of Clangeddin – though yer kind seldom remembers.”

The other dwarf simply grunted and started towards the caravan master’s booth.  Shandri nudged Stri and the two of them followed.  Both were aware of the stares from the humans in the booth – the same stares they always got.  Stri seemed to take such things for granted, as if she deserved them and it was the natural way of things.  Shandri quickly grew angered by it – anger perhaps made worse when, trying to find work, a test would be given which she could not pass – “Cast me a light spell,” or “Let’s see your Magic Missile take out that target.”  Always she would be offered the job on condition – that condition being a relationship with her employer.  Always she refused, generally casting a spell she was very good at – sleep – and leaving quickly.  It would be nice to work with a dwarf, who, she felt, would not be interested in what she looked like.

Stri ignored the stares from the men, merely smiling back and nodding pleasantly.  She listened to the dwarf arguing with a master about working passage south to Shieldmeet.  So the dwarf was going where they wished!  A good stroke of luck.  The dwarf was saying to the master that he was an accomplished cleric and warrior, who could heal and fight and protect.  The master was telling the dwarf he had no need of a cleric at present, but needed a good wizard to complement the main practitioner of the Art already signed on.  Stri looked to Shandri and noticed that she had been listening.  “Best let her deal with the master, she’s so much better with people than I am,” she thought.

Shandri knew that look – the two had been close for so long sometimes they felt they could read each other’s minds.  She sighed and approached the master.

“Did you say you had need of practitioner’s of the Art?”

The man looked her up and down, and obviously quickly forgot about the dwarf.

“Most certainly lass.  Caleb, our wizard, feels he could use one or two others to assist him.”

“My name is Shandri Greycastle – this is my good friend Anastrianna Xiloscient.  We are two practitioners of the Art, looking to travel to Shieldmeet with a caravan.”

The master’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked Stri up and down.

“I see no reason at all why Caleb would object – I’ll let you talk to him, as he will have the final say.”  The man turned to lead them away, when Shandri broke in.

“I would of course, think it a personal favor if you would allow this good dwarf to accompany us – one can never have too many healers, you know.”  She turned her head slightly as she said this, her hair falling slightly across one eye.  She noticed the usual effect this gesture had – the man became almost a babbling idiot.

“Of course, most certainly, most certainly – you are hired dwarf – the caravan is at stand number ten.”  The man didn’t even look at the dwarf, just letting his eyes travel up and down Shandri.  She simply smiled at him.

“We’ll be over to talk to Caleb in a moment, good sir.  I wish to speak with our healer.”  She turned and looked at the dwarf.  He was staring open-mouthed, but not in the same way as the master.

“Well, thank’e lass.  T’will be a pleasure ta have yer company on the journ.  Me name’s Tenbar Ironbrow, from Eartheart in the Rift.  Priest of Clangeddin Silverbeard at yer service.”  He bowed.

“I’m Shandri Greycastle, from Everlund, this is Anastrianna Xiloscient, from Silverymoon.  We are both practitioner’s of the Art, though I am a sorcerer while Anastrianna is a wizard.”  Both of the girls bowed slightly as well.

“Anast.. Umm, pardon lass, but what do the humans call ye?  Yer name’s a bit much for me tongue – no offense.”

Stri laughed, “Stri Goldpetal, Tenbar.  And no offense is taken – Shandri is the only non-elf I’ve ever met who can pronounce my name properly.”

“Shall we go and meet this Caleb?  I believe the caravan leaves today, does it not?” Shandri looked at the master, who was still staring.  He nodded.  Shandri decided to play a bit – why not?  “Too bad, I’m certain you have all sorts of interesting stories you could have told a young adventurer like myself.”  She winked at him.  He simply continued to stare, but nodded vigorously.  She turned and set off with Stri and Tenbar toward the staging area.

“Methinks ye got a little mean streak in ye, lass – the poor man’s a gonna be standin there fer the rest of the day.”

“Perhaps, but I get really tired of being looked at all the time like I’m someone’s harem slave.”

“Oh pooh, Shandri.  Just let it flow off you – I get it all the time.  Hanali teaches that beauty is to be admired in all it’s forms – and you are most certainly beautiful.  It doesn’t hurt to let them admire you.”

“No, but it hurts to be accepted only because they want you.”

Stri fell silent, and Tenbar, sensing that this was a sore point with Shandri, started to talk about himself.

“If’n were ta be travelin together, ye’d best know a little about me.  I’m the eldest son of me father – all of me family are priests, and me father’s got a chance at bein made the High Priest o’ Clangeddin.  Ye may have ta knock me on me head in battle – I sometimes forget I’m a cleric, and not a fighter.  Tis the way o’ the Beard, I guess.  Just finished a three month trip through the Underdark, bringin some fine mail and arms ta sell hereabouts.  Hope I never have ta do that again – saw enough aberrations below to curdle the milk of a gorgon.  At least I learned about the hazards below – slimes, oozes and them such things.  Guess we got lucky in that we didn’t meet no drow.  Twould have been a massacre – for them!”  He laughed boisterously, and both girls smiled.  By this time they reached the caravan, and went up to a wagon with a wizard’s mark on the side.  A tall, elderly man was sitting on a barrel, watching them approach.

“Are you Caleb?”  Shandri asked, when they were close enough.

“That’s me, and that is I.”

“My name is Shandri Greycastle, Sorcerer of Everlund.  This is Anastrianna Xiloscient, Wizard of Silverymoon, and Tenbar Ironbrow, Priest of the Rift.  Stri and I understand from the master you are looking for a couple of less experienced Art users to assist you.”

“Yes.”

“We were hoping to get the job.”  Shandri was a little puzzled, but grateful at the same time, by the wizard’s manner.  He was looking at her and Stri, but not in the normal way – he seemed to be appraising their abilities.  He took the pipe out of his mouth.

“Damage that sign.”  He pointed at the sign saying “Staging Area 10.”

Stri nodded, and hit the sign with a magic missile – her color being golden.  A large chunk of it flew off into the air.  Shandri looked at Caleb and shrugged.

“I can’t, it needs to be living.”  She prepared herself for the inevitable rejection.

Caleb began casting a spell – both Shandri and Stri recognized it as Detect Magic.  He then cast one they couldn’t identify, and looked Shandri over thoroughly again.

“Most intriguingly odd.  Hold on one moment.”  He called one of the caravan hands over, then looked at Shandri.  “Do whatever you do to him – before he runs away – and try not to hurt him permanently.”

The hand looked panicked and started to flee.  Shandri cast the first spell that came to mind – color spray.  It was one she had just discovered recently.  If the hand hadn’t looked back just as the fan of light hit him, probably nothing would have happened.  As it was he screamed, stumbled and fell to the ground.  Tenbar rushed over to see if he was okay.

“Out totally – but not harmed, lass – he’ll be awakenin soon.”

Shandri nodded and looked at Caleb.  To her surprise he was staring at her in a very odd way.

“Interesting color spray – tell me – how did you modify the colors to white through black instead of red through violet?”

Shandri had no idea what he was talking about – the spell had always been varying shades of white through black for her.  She noticed though that Stri was looking at her, apparently very interested in the answer herself.  She just shrugged.

“It’s simply always been that way for me – my magic is a little different for some reason.”

Caleb nodded at her.

“Different, but very effective.  And perhaps it explains why you can’t evoke very well.  Am I correct in assuming you are related to Lord Hendrick Greycastle in Everlund, and thence to Lord Roryn Greycastle of Cormyr?”

Shandri wasn’t surprised he knew her family – most people in this area knew of the two cousins, both Paladins of Torm.  She wanted, though, to know how he knew she couldn’t evoke well at all.  She answered his question first, however.

“Lord Hendrick is my father.”

He nodded, “and your mother is Lady Jhessail.  I think I can use both of you very nicely.  Greycastle women are always sorcerers of odd power, supposedly from the Silver Drake Selania in the early years of Cormyr.  Yours has obviously taken an odd twist.  See the master about your lodgings, I’ll take you on.”  He suddenly turned away in a manner that obviously meant the conversation was at an end.

To Be Continued...

_{This is an unofficial article and it is not associated by any means with Interplay, Bioware, Wizards of the Coast or TSR Inc. No material from this site can be reproduced for any commercial use and any noncommercial use must be authorized by the writer, as well as the owners of this website.}