The Sorceress in Gray

Remove all ads!

This is a short story set in the Forgotten Realms. I actually started it a while ago and finished it today. This is the whole thing, so tell me what you think.


The Sorceress in Gray


Ectorgain Myzynge reclined in a plush armchair, relaxing over a bottle of fine Abdar Brandy. The comfortable folds of fabric enveloped him as he sank down, glass in hand with the delicate vapors drifting up to tantalize his nostrils. He glanced at the shelf on the wall, lined with bottles of various alcohols of various vintages. It was almost his pride and joy.

However, that place in his heart was reserved for the other shelf in the small room, a dusty ledge piled with ancient, dusty tomes. Within those books could be found magical secrets, arcane knowledge, and fantastic spells. But he rarely used them, having no true cause. The spells that he found useful or particularly liked were all copied into a single iron bound book that he carried everywhere – inside his extra-dimensional pocket, that is.

But as for now, he decided to relax, sip a soothing after-dinner drink, and contemplate his placid existence. Nobody, save Khelben ‘Blackstaff’ Arunsun of Waterdeep, and possibly a few others, knew of his life, and certainly not of this magical realm he had enhanced for himself.

The ‘magical realm’ was, to him, a small two-room home, where he lived in peace and tranquility. In this abode he could study his books, research spells, and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. He was a hermit, to be sure, and he desired nothing more than to live on his own in contentment. So it surprised him very much when somebody knocked at his door. He had no door.

His head craned round, peering at the source of the noise. The shimmering arch, that marked the entrance to the small private hold he had discovered, was sending out sounds that sounded quite like a strong man knocking firmly and properly on a stout wooden door. If it had been any other, he might not have felt compelled to answer. But the sheer politeness and order of the knock brought him forward to seek the source of the powerful sound.

“Yes? Who is it?” He asked gently. His voice nearly cracked under the strain. It was only used to the magical tones of the arcane language, not the rough vocalizations that came with everyday speech. His was a voice adapted for smooth chants in a deep tongue that shook the very core of the magical Weave. The visitor (or was it visitors?) had better have a good excuse for forcing him to exercise his speech.
There was a scramble and a yelp.

“Where did that voice come from? Grady? Are you doing ventriloquism again?” The voice was young and immature, the voice of a boy who was altogether uncertain of what had just happened.

“I didn’t do no ventri-quiz. That voice ain’t mine. It commed from the tree you knocked on.” There was a sound of scuffling over wood. Ectorgain began to get annoyed. It appeared that two scruffy children had stumbled upon his hold and were quite unaware of his inconvenience.

“Do you, by any chance, have an actual purpose for disturbing my repose?” Ectorgain demanded softly. There were more sounds of shock from outside.

“Who are you? Where are you?” Came the first boy’s voice.

“I am asking the questions. Step into my lair, and let me have a look at you.” He waited a moment. “Touch the bare tree knob by the ground. Both of you.” His words carried magical power, and the boys scrambled to obey.

The two quickly came stumbling through the glimmering archway and into the rich room. Ectorgain noted with disdain that their boots were muddy and were tracking on his thick, shaggy carpet. But it could not be helped – he ‘invited’ them in, after all.

“Who are you?” He asked again, and the boys looked up. Both of them were probably no more than the age of eleven, and were dressed in deerskin jackets and rough pantaloons. They stared up in wonder at the elderly man, dressed in fine silk robes embroidered with gold thread and decorated with mystic symbols.

“I-I’m Arvin,” the boy with the first voice stammered. “And this is Grady,” he added, jerking a thumb at the pudgy boy with the ‘ventro-quiz’ talent.

“Pleased ter meetcha, sir,” Grady offered, extending a grubby hand. Ectorgain studied them carefully, not accepting the outstretched welcome. The first boy was tallish and weedy, with sandy straw hair that framed a flushed freckled face. He had a few long sticks tucked in his back pocket, and a pouch of dirt and pebbles at his side. The second boy, Grady, was smudged with dirt that accented his dark curly hair and cherubic smile. He had a stick in his hand, and tears in his pants where several sticks might have previously been. Ectorgain was positively puzzled at what they might have been doing.

“Charmed, I’m sure. What business have you about my premises?” Ectorgain examined their responses, while rubbing his own sore throat. The brandy would be in great desire after this meeting.

“If you mean what were we doing, sir, we were just playing swords. I got Grady a good one, and stole his sticks.” Arvin stood up proudly.

“Yah, well you gots a fighter for a daddy, and I don’t. You gots training,” Grady retorted. “‘Sides, I’m gonna be a magic man when I grow up, so I don’t need no stinking swords. Or sticks.”

“You wish to be a wizard?” Ectorgain interrupted their banter. In a flood of memories, he remembered his own childhood. He hadn’t wanted to be a mage until he was at least 14 years old, and his father had strongly disapproved.

“Yah, I’m gonna be a wizurd.” Grady mumbled.

“No you’re not. You’re going to be a woodcutter or a farmer, just like everyone else in town.” Arvin laughed.

“Don’t laugh!” Ectorgain snapped. “A wizard is a noble and ambitious calling, and young Grady here can aspire to what he wishes.” Ectorgain remembered his childhood again, when all his fellow teenagers laughed at him for wanting to be such an extraordinary thing. Those laughs still stung him today.

Arvin looked suitably chastised.

“Come on in to my study, you two. Sit down and have some Abdar Brandy. It has been too long since I have seen the face of another… intelligent soul.”

The boys brightened up at the prospect of a friendly mage, and even more so at the mention of a taste of the illicit ‘brandy’ their parents always forbid them. Grady sat down to pull off his muddy boots, but Arvin wandered right on in and sat down on the old mage’s favorite armchair. The folds of fabric nearly sucked the poor boy in.

Ectorgain returned with two glasses of brandy, unaware of what was appropriate for young boys to drink. Arvin took a sip of his from his sunken position, and nearly choked.

“Blergh! This is what they never want to give us? Yuck! No wonder, they probably think it would kill us!” Arvin spat out his sip on the floor. Grady agreed with the sentiment, but decided it was best to swallow the drink down.

“So, where are you two from?” Ectorgain sank down into another chair, but not quite as lush as his favorite. The child Arvin was starting to irk the old man.

“From Little Forest. My dad’s a member of the patrol, and Grady’s dad’s a woodcutter.” Arvin looked around, taking in all the sights of the small room. “What’s through that door?” He asked, pointing at the only actual door in the abode. Ectorgain’s eyes glittered.

“Would you like to see?”

Grady and Arvin nodded. The old mage led them silently into the other room, and the door opened wide at the man’s approach. Inside were several magical devices, adorning the walls and ceiling. But the main host of the room was a large ornate mirror.

“This is my scrying mirror. It lets me see anything I want, anywhere in the world.”

Arvin leaned forward to look at it. “How does it work?”

“By magic, of course, but I suspect that is not what you meant.” He paused to look at the eager faces of the young children. Grady rubbed his face a bit, trying to make the dirt appear a little more respectable. “You touch the mirror, like so.” He placed his hand just above the glass. “Then you speak the name of the place, person, or otherwise that you want to see.” He touched his hand down. “Arvin’s house, Little Forest.” He stated.

The mirror shifted to reveal a small three-room home, occupied by several people.

“Where is that Arvin?” An older woman muttered. “Skipping out on chores like that to go play with the fat little boy. He should be here to help with the woodcutting.” Arvin turned slightly pink at his mother’s words, and Grady just looked sad.

“You’ll have to give him a tanning, ma,” a little girl said. She looked pretty pleased to see her mother’s nod. Arvin looked pale. Ectorgain, sensing the young man’s distress, took his hand off the mirror, and it disappeared to be replaced by the old reflective glass.

“Is there anywhere you two would like to see?” Ectorgain asked kindly, wanting to draw the boys’ attention away from the hard words of Arvin’s family. Arvin nodded eagerly and rushed forward to put his hands on the glass.

“The drow, Drizzit!” He exclaimed excitedly, remembering the tales told of the drow told by a visiting bard. The mirror shifted slightly, but remained firm.

“Perhaps you mispronounced the name,” Ectorgain put in. He brushed his robes down, ready for an interesting visage. He had never thought to have a look at the famous renegade.

“Drizzt!” The boy said, hoping he got the name right. This time, the mirror shifted. It revealed the dark elf huddled in an alcove, staring, disbelieving, at something. It was too dark to make out much.

“Pressing your hands harder on the mirror will let you see him closer. Loosening your hands until only the fingers are touching will let you see everything else around.” Ectorgain leaned in to see what Arvin was doing. The boy pressed his hands down as hard as they could go, and soon only a pitch black nose could be seen, dilating with each breath.

“Oops,” Arvin said, and loosened his hands. The dark elf’s face could be seen clearly now, and Arvin looked on in wonder. Then he pulled his hands back until the current scene could be seen. The drow was on the edge of a large cavern gorge, watching a battle take place.

A huge black dragon was writhing around, burning as a flaming dwarf hacked into the dragon with a shining axe. Down the deep gorge the two fell, rolling circles of flames into the air as they sank out of sight into the gloom.

Grady and Arvin stood awestruck at the scene, never before having seen a dragon. Even Ectorgain thought it was a magnificent sight. The thought of whom the dwarf was crossed his mind, but he didn’t worry. That matter was up to Drizzt, however far away he was. Arvin slowly took his hands off, still staring at the blank mirror. There was silence for a moment, until Grady walked up to the mirror.

He placed his dirty hands firmly on the mirror and spoke. “The Mistmaster, Citadel of the Mists.” He stated firmly, with no trace of his former slurring and abbreviations.

The mirror shimmered once again, to Ectorgain’s amazement. Both children showed extraordinary talent in the magical art of scrying. But something else bothered him; he had never been able to get past the Mistmaster’s scrying defenses. Grady had entered on the first try, the first time in his life. Then something else hit home. How had the child known about the Mistmaster? It wasn’t commonly known about; it was far less known than even the drow Drizzt.
A slim triangle of three towers appeared in the mirror, all three cloaked in swirling mists. The mirror went inwards, seeking out the Mistmaster. Two large buildings and a courtyard came into view, as well as three people talking nervously. The mirror stopped on the three.

“That’s the priest of Helm, Iltmul,” Ectorgain breathed softly. “And there are the wizard Azure and the priestess of Tymora, Cherissa Mintareil. Never have I been able to see any of this. You have quite the talent, young Grady.”

Grady pressed his hands down softly, slowly zooming in to see what was going on. The three stood around a man fallen on the ground, an old gray-cloaked man. “That’s the Mistmaster! He camed in ma dream!” Grady exclaimed excitedly.
“Oh, don’t start going on about the dumb dream again,” Arvin sighed. “You went on about it enough yesterday.”

“What dream did you have?” Ectorgain snapped sharply. Grady looked worried, thinking that the wizard might explode into magical powers completely unknown to him.

“It was a dream ‘bout the Mistmaster, and how he said he was in trouble. He didn’t really talk to me, it seemed like he was talking to just ‘bout the whole wurld.”

“A communal dream,” breathed Ectorgain. “It must have targeted you for some reason. I have to get there, now. Take your hands away.”
Grady did so, and the image disappeared. Ectorgain strode over to a strange device hanging from the ceiling. “You two can leave now, I must go.”

“But we wanna come an’ help!” Grady exclaimed.

“Yes! We’re ready to help out with the big stuff. We’re eleven!” Arvin added.

Ectorgain paused. “There is something strange going on here,” he said at last. “Perhaps you should stay by my side. Hold onto my cloak.” The two young boys held on, and Ectorgain manipulated the device. Waves of shimmering purple washed around them as Ectorgain rubbed the magical instrument. “Citadel of the Mists!” He declared, and the purple died down.

“Eh? Why doesn’t it work? The Mistmaster’s defenses are obviously down.” He took the lumpy box off its ceiling hook and held it in his hands. “Hmm… Grady. Rub the box here until the purple starts coming out again. Then say the place name, and tweak this knob.” He handed the box to the young boy.

“Why me?” He asked weakly.

“Because you seem to be able to do some things that I cannot. Let us find out if this is one of them.” Ectorgain held onto Grady’s jacket hood, and beckoned Arvin to do the same. Grady began to rub the bizarre box, and purple mists started to seep out of the air.

The colors picked up speed, swirling until everything was a blur of purple. “Citadel of the Mists!” He yelled, and pressed the knob. The purple began to jolt up and down, and then suddenly disappeared. They were standing in the now empty courtyard of the place in the mirror.


A chill breeze swept the citadel, swirling the ever-present mists around the three travelers. There was nothing but lifeless silence.
“There is something amiss,” Ectorgain stated. He looked around the barren courtyard, looking for something that only he could see. “The wards are down. That would not happen unless…”

He spun around and looked at the two children. “Whatever you do, don’t leave my side. There is something here that shouldn’t be.”

“How comes you know so much ‘bout this place?” Grady asked.

“I know many things, and I don’t choose to share them all.” The old man said cryptically. “Come, now. We must see where the Mistmaster and his companions are.” He swept around and headed towards the nearest door. It was large and ornate, obviously the main entrance into the citadel.

Grady and Arvin looked at each other, afraid. They could feel the evil, and they could see the peculiar light in the old wizard’s eyes. They saw the way he moved about briskly, his cloak swishing ominously, like some foreboding of danger, shaking its head to tell them, ‘No! Go away!’

Ectorgain opened the doors wide with a small spell, which also worried him. Such a simple cantrip should not be able to work on such powerfully magical doors. Inside was barren, devoid of any furniture or furnishings. Grady timidly stepped inside, but he was pulled in by Arvin, who wanted to get going as fast as they could.

A dark shadow flitted by them, causing the boys to jump and yell.

“Quiet!” Ectorgain snapped. “We must find out if the artifact is still here. If it isn’t…”
The boys had no idea what he was talking about, but they followed him anyway, up the spiral staircase to the side of the room. Grady nudged Arvin, pointing at a scrap of tapestry remaining on the wall. It depicted a pair of red glowing eyes, all that remained of a once vicious picture. The two crept along, watching the eyes as if they would turn to watch them go past.
The three got to the top of the tower, where a bed sat in a rounded room. Nothing else was in there. Curiously, the bed remained untouched, with its satin sheets and plush pillows undisturbed. It stood out dramatically from the dreary stone room.

“The bed must be the key. That’s why the evil magic couldn’t touch it,” Ectorgain commented. “Grady. Trace your finger along the carvings on the headboard. You seem to be the only one that can deal with whatever magic is in this place still.”

The fat little boy trundled nervously forward and put his finger into the beginning of the groove. His pudgy digit scooted along the darkened path, leaving a faint light behind it. His finger went round in loops, floral patterns, dragon heads, and circles. At last, his finger reached the other end, and the bed began to shudder. Grady jumped back, noticing that the legs of the bed had truly become legs. The animated bed scuttled forward, revealing a hole in the wall.

Ectorgain went forward and entered, stooping to avoid the top of the entrance. A staircase went around the wall, winding up around the room to the top. The old wizard took the steps, watching out for the low ceiling. Arvin and Grady followed, using their hands to help them up the steep steps. The roughly hewn stones scraped at their hands.

“What have we got into?” Arvin mumbled. “We’re following a stranger – a wizard – into an evil citadel to find out if evil forces have conquered it. I’d prefer the tanning back home.”

“But, you said et! ‘E’s a wizurd! What other time are we gonna get to do somethin’ like this?” Grady spoke out boldly, but there was a distinct tremor in his voice. Another shadow flashed by, and he jumped again, nearly falling down the steps.

The top of the tower was a conical room, with a glass tube extending from the middle of the floor to the tip of the tower. Ectorgain was circling it, making inaudible remarks to himself. “Boys, this piece of the artifact is still here. This bodes well for the safety of the realms. I - ” He stopped as a visage of a tall, graceful lady descended down. She was draped in robes of gray, and was silently smiling.

“Who?” Asked Ectorgain. But the image merely smiled again and disappeared. There was a flash of darkness, and the glass shattered, revealing a floating crystal shard. Ectorgain gasped and leaped forward, but before he got there, the crystal was gone. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he began to mumble in the strange arcane tongue. Magical swirled about him, and he disappeared.

“Sir? Mister Wizard?” Arvin called out. There was no response. Grady began to feel about, searching for something invisible. He didn’t find anything. The two were completely and utterly alone.


Ectorgain reappeared in one of the other three towers. The crystal there was shattered. He moved his hands and he was in the third tower. The crystal was intact. He breathed a sigh of relief that only two of the three pieces had yet been stolen. Should all three be put together… He shuddered. It would not do for the Gatekeeper’s Crystal to be loose in the realms, in the hands of evil.

He began to slowly move his hands in a spell, hoping to make the glass unbreakable. His magic, normally reserved for increasing the hardiness of his rapidly deteriorating bookshelf, flowed from his hands into the glass. But as it touched, the magic rebounded and spattered into the ground. “Grady,” he mumbled. He clapped his hands and he was back in the first tower. The boys were gone.


The two boys were searching for their elusive wizard guardian, and had wandered down into the halls beneath the citadel. Arvin peered about, trying to spot any sign of the old man, and Grady looked up and down for traces of magic. In short, they hadn’t the faintest idea about how to look for a person. Their techniques would be better suited to an item search.

They rounded a corner in the tunnels, and came upon a dead end room. The small chamber seemed to be decorated in obscure patterns in red ink, as well as a wall cabinet at the far end. Arvin tried to go in, but stopped, as if he had slammed into an invisible wall.

“No use, let’s go and look for the wizard somewhere else.” Arvin turned around to leave, but Grady didn’t follow.

“I dunno why, but I seem to be special. I can do lotsa things that the old wizurd can’t.” He stepped forward, entranced by the red runes on the walls. “So purdy.”

“Careful, it looks like bad magic,” Arvin warned. But Grady stepped on through anyway. He passed without any resistance. But as soon as his foot touched down inside the room, the red runes began to glow. “Get out!” Arvin yelled. But it was too late.

The red runes shot out beams of fiery light every which way, and Grady ducked to avoid one. He ran for the cabinet and jerked it open, just missing a swirling beam of magic. The cabinet rattled, and a bottle fell out and smashed on the ground, spilling blue liquid all over. Some got on Grady’s worn out shoes, and the spots touched turned instantly to new.

He grabbed two more bottles from the stash of perhaps a dozen, and turned to leave.

“Get out, Grady! Put the bottles back! It’s stealing!” Arvin yelled out, but Grady gave no heed. He started to run out, but was hit by a beam.

A startled look crossed the boy’s face as he disappeared into nothingness. The bottles fell from his vanished hands. The red beams died down. One bottle hit the floor, and the other bottle hit that one. The one on the floor smashed, sending out more blue fluid, but the second one was cushioned, and rolled out in an arc towards the entrance. It stopped, the nozzle just peeking out of the room.

He choked on his tears at the loss of his friend, but Arvin still bent to pick up the bottle his friend had died for. He didn’t know what was inside it, and didn’t want to. It was the love of magic that had killed Grady, and Arvin saw it for what it truly was – evil. Angrily, he tucked the bottle in his jacket and ran out, down the hall. He didn’t want to find the wizard any more – all magic was evil. He would find his own way home.

Something lurking just down the hall heard his flight, but remained in place. Its only duty was to kill anyone who entered further than the master’s potion room. Arvin didn’t know how lucky he was to have given up the search.


Ectorgain blinked about randomly, searching for the boys. Or at least Grady. He could not operate any magic on the citadel without the boy, save for personal spells, and he certainly couldn’t leave without Grady there to do the necessary motions. But try as he might, in every room there was no sign of his two charges.

That left only one conclusion. The boys must have gone out of the citadel, into the deep woods of the High Forest beyond. He stood at the edge of the stone base of the citadel, looking down the gentle slope to the forest beyond. He was torn between looking for the boys and looking for the Mistmaster and his allies. Truly, it was strange that they had gone from the place so soon after Grady had scryed the area.

He took a step out into the woods, and the world shimmered about him. He looked back at the citadel, but it was rapidly being cloaked in the mists of its name. Ectorgain tried to get back in, but entering the mist merely brought him full circle to exit where he came in. He stuck in his arm, and it appeared back through the mists as quickly as it went in. He was trapped outside.

Damning himself for not having many divination or teleportation spells at the ready, he set out through the forest. It was the evening, so he used the sun in the west to point him north and out of the woods. You didn’t live as a hermit in the deep woods without learning a bit of woodcraft and smarts.

A spell enhanced his hearing, and he listened for any signs of the boys as he trudged through the thick, pine scented woods. The orange evening light filtered through the needle branches, casting strange and beautiful patterns on the leaf-litter below. Fall was coming early to the High Forest, what with it being Eleasias Highsun, the late summer month.

A sound caught his attention: a sort of scrabbling among rocks. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped. Ectorgain turned sharp right and went to investigate. Natives of the northern part of the forest did not make such a ruckus, even if it was magnified by his spell. He approached, and peered carefully around the sap-encrusted trunk of a tall pine tree.

There was a pile of rubble, covered with leaves, stacked up against a north-facing slope. The rubble shifted, and dust flew up into the air. The sound of coughing came, and a dirty child’s head popped out. At the filth, Ectorgain dared to hope it was Grady, but it was not. It was Arvin.

“Arvin!” He called out, and the boy jumped, scattering more pebbles.

“Get away from me! You’re part of the bad magic!” He yelled, and ducked down inside his hole. Ectorgain was at a loss. He didn’t know how to be comforting, compassionate, or any of those other things he had read you were supposed to be in these sorts of situations.

“What happened?” He tried. “Where’s Grady?”

“Grady, Grady, Grady! All you care about is Grady’s ‘talents.’ You disappear, we try to find you, and Grady ends up dead!” He sobbed from his hole.

“How did this happen?” Ectorgain cried, concern rising in his voice. Others may have thought it selfish that Ectorgain thought only that Grady would be unable to get them back to his hold, but the man truly had no experience with others. He didn’t know what a crushing force death was. But he was beginning to find out.

“Grady saw a magic room, with runes and bottles, and he went in. The runes started shooting light, and Grady got zapped. All for a stupid blue bottle.”

Ectorgain cautiously approached. “Blue bottle?” He asked softly. “Do you have one?”

“You’re not getting it! My friend died for it, and I’m keeping it for him! I’ll go and see him – in the Other World, or something, and I’ll give it to him!” Arvin stood up, tears in his eyes.
Ectorgain stood over the makeshift hole. “Where does this lead?”

“Do you even care? You don’t think about Grady!” Arvin sniffed. But he saw the light kindling in Ectorgain’s eyes.

“Do you know who I am? I asked you a question. You had better answer. I am Ectorgain Myzynge, a name destined to be heard by all and sundry!” The old mage stood tall, radiating power. Arvin cowered back in fear, huddling down in his dirty hole.

“It leads to the tunnels Grady died in. I fell into a hole into this passage, and I followed it out.” Arvin quivered in fear of the strange man with the stranger name.

“The ruins of the elven fortress…” Ectorgain breathed. “That’s where the Mistmaster must have gone; it’s a safe enough place. Give me the bottle, it may be the only thing helping us to get home.”

Arvin handed the blue bottle over, none of his usual cockiness left. “Where are we?”

“About 500 kilometers from home.” Upon seeing the boy’s blank look, “300 miles.” The boy blanched. It was further than he had ever wanted to be.

“Now this,” he stated, indicating the blue bottle, “is why I know so much about the Citadel of the Mists. Long have I pondered how the Mistmaster obtained his long life, and my solution was thus: longevity potions. I have continually attempted to scry, teleport, and otherwise infiltrate the citadel to get a hold of one of these potions, and learn the ingredients. Much though it tempts me to take a sip now, or even head back home with it, the Mistmaster needs it now more than ever. Unless my theory is wrong, that shadow you saw in the citadel was the spirit of a malevolent race. It has no name. But what it does is steal the life force from a person to feed its own. The Mistmaster is probably now dying of old age in the elven ruins below, and he needs this potion.”

“Do we go back in to find him?” Arvin asked.

“‘We’ don’t do anything. You are staying here – I cannot risk any more deaths on my part.”

“I’m coming.” Arvin stated, impudently.

“No, you’re not,” Ectorgain said, and quickly cast a spell. Arvin tried to struggle, but he could not resist the powerful magic that speedily turned him to stone. “I will be back to change you once I am finished,” he stated to unhearing ears. He took a deep breath and entered the tunnel.


The cavern stretched out before him, seemingly endless. The tunnels had twisted and turned, and several monsters had stood in his way. But the passages were conquered by foot, and the monsters by spells. At last he was ready to enter the safe-hold where likely lay the dying Mistmaster.

He enacted a spell he had tried to save, but this was a cause for urgency. His feet lifted gently off the ground, and the flight spell took effect. He glided off the viewing ledge and into the darkness beyond. He was far below the Citadel of the Mists, now, and even the elven ruins were above. This was a silent land of buried elven dead.

The giant crypt was lined with large bulges on the walls, tribute to the resting-places of the ancient elven city-folk. Silence reigned above all, and the air seemed thick with it. Quiet lay in a pall over the underground realm, letting none go without knowing that they were in a place that strictly enforced noiselessness.

From his lofty position, Ectorgain could see a glowing light, far down at the bottom of the cavern. He swooped down, speeding towards the ground, wizard’s cloak fluttering behind him, and arms outstretched like a bird’s wings breaking the wind to slow him down. At the bottom, sharp bones poked out of the soft soil, ragged rib cages protruded from hard rock, and broken skulls grinned eerily at the intruder. It looked as if there had been a battle with the undead here, long ago. Even a few rusting swords peered out of their earthen graves. They had to be magical, or they would have faded to nothingness long ago.

The light was a small campfire, smack dab in the middle of a patch of clear ground. Nobody was in sight. Ectorgain sighed and landed softly on the ground. As soon as his feet touched down, the ground to the right literally exploded as two enormous flippers burst out and slammed down to the sides.

“Golog-gorak-nokoo!” The monster rumbled in its subterranean language. Ectorgain didn’t know what the words meant, but he knew the creature’s intent. Calling on magic from memory, he threw a ball of acid at the creature, but it merely glanced it on the side, fizzing and producing a white substance. The monster ignored the futile attempt, and hauled itself out of its hole and gave a primal roar.

Its flipper went up and then smashed down on the ground where Ectorgain had just stood, melting away the top layer of soil. But Ectorgain was now up in the air, preparing another spell from his thick book. The huge creature reared up on its slug-like body and batted its paws in the air, trying to get at the floating wizard. But it didn’t have to get at the old man.

A seemingly immobile stalagmite came to life as Ectorgain floated above it. A sticky tentacle lashed out and grabbed the wizard’s ankle. The roper began to pull Ectorgain in and the delver roared in anger. It put its fins together and dove back into the ground, leaving a corrosive coated tunnel behind it. Ectorgain held his concentration as the magical beast pulled him in. The fireball was now ready in his hands, but there was no slime slug to throw it at. So, he did the next best thing. He threw the fireball at the source of the tentacle, and flames exploded all about.

The roper writhed in pain and threw Ectorgain away, high into the air. Fire raged about the beast, and it twisted until its blackened form bent over in death.

“Kill the wizard!” Came voice, somewhat familiar to Ectorgain. The skeleton-littered ground rumbled, and a gargantuan skeletal head burst forth, followed by large bony limbs, expansive wing bones, thick ribs, and a long, whippy tail. The wizard paled at the thought of facing a dracolich.

But the undead dragon simply stayed on the ground, forcing its colossal bulk to rear up and snap at the flying wizard. No spells were cast, and no threats were uttered. Ectorgain zoomed in to make a pass on the skull, and could not see any light inside the eye sockets. The skull reacted on instinct, snapping at him as he passed, and tearing a bit of fabric off his robe. That settled it – no dracolich was that clumsy or unintelligent.

Ectorgain flew up to near the ceiling and targeted the animated dragon skeleton, preparing to use a devastating spell. But he was nearly crushed as a corrosive flipper burst out of the rock above him to strike his back. The tip of the delver’s head peered around the open hole to get a one-eyed look at the wizard enemy, and struck again. Ectorgain dodged this one, but the burning slime still got into his white hair. He completely forgot to concentrate, and madly tried to get the deathly fluid out before his skull was burnt through.

As he scrambled with his head, he fell through the open cavern, down, down towards the hard ground. As he neared the ground with increasing speed, the dragon skeleton’s tail lashed out at him like a wooden bat, sending him crashing to the far wall. He slumped down amongst the litter bones of yesteryear, resting his injured hand on an elven skull. He collapsed, beaten to within an inch of death, and awaiting the final blows.

“Stop!” Came a voice. The skeleton froze, and the delver, in its lengthy secret passages, stopped too. “I want to finish him myself.”

Ectorgain opened his eyes to see another wizard, floating down from on high. His face was twisted and cruel, with a malevolent look in his pitch black eyes. Long black hair fell to his shoulders and flapped in the breeze he created as he came down. Blackened, twisted hands clapped in delight as he saw the predicament of his foe.

“Well, well, well. I had not dared to hope I would find you here, Ectorgain Myzynge.” He landed, crushing the shoulder blade of a long fallen warrior. He walked towards Ectorgain, crunching his feet on the bones as he passed. “What a place for us to meet again, not so unlike our first meeting. A full cycle, beginning and end.”

He stopped and gestured around. “This marvelous cavern could be so much more, but when the Mistmaster and co get back from their social visit in Silverymoon, we will be long gone. But I believe you have something I need.” He held out his crooked hand expectantly.

Ectorgain merely gazed with crooked eyes at this man, unaware of what he wanted from him. He racked his memory for knowledge of this man, trying to remember who he was.

“Who are you?” He rasped. The enemy wizard roared in laughter.

“You do not remember me? How positively cruel! You do not remember your old apprentice, back in days of yore, whom you once took on a ‘field trip’ to a vast cave? A cave where happened to be a deadly beast of fire that scorched my body, and you left me for dead?” A maniacal look came into his eyes. “But I see you have not learned from your mistakes. Two apprentices, was it this time? The audacity!”

Ectorgain stared at the man. “Forehorn? Truly, I thought you dead.”

“As dead as you will be if you do not give me your piece of the crystal.”

“I don’t have the crystal. You have the first two pieces, and the third is still in its container.” He glanced about the darkness, suspecting there was something more. He had thought there had been a Dark Shadow, a creature that fed on life forces.

“You do. My servants took the second piece and then tried for the first. But you got there, and as they were about to steal it, you took it. You beat them to the third piece, but they came after and took it anyway. Now give me the first piece, or I will use your bones as knives to dig the crystal out.”

“I didn’t take it…” He drifted off. “Wait, there was an apparition there before me, a strange wizardress in gray.”

“And you think the Sorceress in Gray would have taken it?” Forehorn laughed cynically.

At the mention of the name, Ectorgain’s eyes widened and he made all the connections. True, the Sorceress in Gray would not have taken it, but she would have entrusted the shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal to a powerful mage. Or… a person with powerful potential. Grady. But Grady was dead.

“I think your usefulness has come to an end,” Forehorn snarled. He raised his hands in a killing spell.

A flash of gray mist flitted out around Ectorgain’s body and surrounded the dark mage with the twisted hands. Ectorgain’s eyes watered as a startling vision of a woman appeared before his eyes, arms spread wide. Behind her, all the land was still and silent as before, and Forehorn seemed to be frozen solid.

“You have pushed your limits, young Ectorgain,” the woman said in a hollow voice that reverberated about the large cavern. Ectorgain smiled – it had been long since somebody had called him ‘young.’

“Be still and know the touch of the Sorceress in Gray, as many have called me.” She laid a hand on his wrinkled head, softly, and he felt as refreshed as if he had taken a sip of fine elven moon wine. The pain in his body lessened, and his mind felt full once more. He remembered all his spells.

“You heal me… why?”

“I serve the goddess Mystra, whom you should know well, and she serves magic. There is another who needs my help more, but he cannot be reached. Only you can help Grady from his peril. His potential is boundless, but it will not be seen if he dies. Help him and take him under your wing, to teach him properly in the ways of magic. He must respect magic, not like this one that stands frozen in time behind me. But, as always, your course is up to you…”


Forehorn snarled and his magic flashed down, but bounced off the bare rocks. His jaw dropped and he looked about, startled, but Ectorgain was nowhere to be seen. He rubbed his eyes again – one moment the old mage had been there, the next, he was not.

Anger boiled up within the dark mage’s heart, and let out a howl of rage.

“Shaden!” He snapped, and a Dark Shadow materialized at his side. “Find Ectorgain…” He slowed as he thought of the words the wizard had said.

“Yesss, massster? Issss that all?”

“No. You told me the man was accompanied by two boys, yes?”

“Yesss.”

“Find the boys. Then kill Ectorgain. I will make sure the Mistmaster does not interrupt us.”


Ectorgain blinked about madly, going through every passage, every room. The sorceress had implied that Grady was alive! That held so many grand and terrible implications…

He blinked once more, and he was clear of the upper halls. It was time to delve into the tunnels below, in the ancient elven ruins that the Citadel of the Mists was built upon. He blinked into the beginning tunnels, but then had a thought. Arvin had said Grady had died for the potion – the blue potion of longevity that Ectorgain now had in his pocket.

Ectorgain blinked along the passageway, searching for the potion room. He missed it. He did a final blink and stopped to rest. Soft hisses greeted his presence. Ectorgain turned to see a creature that he had never thought imaginable – a hydra. The beasts were supposedly extinct in the realms.

There was no magic he had to possibly win in combat against this guardian of the tunnels. The only option was to flee. He tried his blinking spell again, but it had expired. He could only run.

His feet pounded down the hall, easily pursued by the hydra. Very quickly, he began to tire, and his old heart began to thud in his chest. He had never felt more aged than at that moment. He knew that he was soon to die. And this time, the Sorceress in Gray was unlikely to help him.
He stumbled further, and the many heads of the hydra nipped at his heels lazily, enjoying the tormenting of a mouse. Up ahead was a narrowing of the tunnel – if he could reach it…

He rooted through his mind for a spell of haste, a spell of slowness for the hydra; anything… but there was nothing. He turned around to face the many heads of the hydra, looking a central head right in its serpentine eyes.

“Come and eat an old man for dinner,” he taunted. The hydra’s heads grinned and lunged forward, but Ectorgain stood to the side and grabbed on to one of them. He took out a little used dagger and drove it into the base of the brain. The beast howled in agony as one of its heads fell down dead, and it lunged forward to bite the impudent wizard.

One head bent backwards to get more speed in its strike, and then shot forward. Ectorgain moved with dexterity far beyond his years and grabbed hold of the hydra’s head, letting it continue in its momentum to the narrow portion of the tunnel. It reached the ends of its neck length and snapped rigid, sending the frail wizard tumbling off.

Ectorgain rolled down the hall and stopped in front of a junction. The hydra was trembling with rage as it thundered down the rapidly tapering hall. He turned and dashed down the side and listened as the hydra’s shoulders slammed into the sides of the hall and trapped it there. It screamed unintelligible curses as it struggled in its confines, but Ectorgain was safe.

He hobbled off down his side passage; little realizing that it was the one he had not been through already. He stopped and looked up. The screams of the hydra faded from his thoughts as he saw the ornate cabinet open with its stash of blue bottles. He also saw the deadly red runes on the sides of the walls. He knew what spell they were from.

He pushed his finger into the room, but was repulsed by the invisible wall that had stopped Arvin. What was it that Grady possessed that allowed him to bypass all the wards of the Mistmaster? Was it that he had been contacted by the communal dream? Was it his innocence? Was it that he had more potential within than any other person Ectorgain had ever met?

Ectorgain focused on a simple cantrip that would ply around and look for magic, but the wall turned it back. Magic couldn’t go through. He took the blue bottle from its pocket and poked it through the invisible veil – it worked. It was a dangerous course, but it was the only one. Ectorgain pushed the bottle through first, and his hand was able to follow. He found he could go through.

It would almost have been insulting to the old mage, if he had time to think it over properly. He was the master magician, and he was forced to rely on the crutches of a young, untrained child, a simple potion, and the benevolence of a mysterious sorceress. It was not he doing the work at all.

But he stepped on through and placed his foot on the inside ground. The red runes glowed. “Aur gahen’demai!” He yelled, and the flight spell took effect. He floated up off the ground and the runes stopped glowing. Ectorgain glided across the small room to the cabinet, and began to search around. He took all the bottles but one, deciding it was best to leave the Mistmaster something, and then began to examine the walls.

Behind him in the passage, Shaden watched.
Ectorgain soon came to an inescapable solution – he hadn’t the faintest idea where to look. So he did the bravest thing he had ever done in his entire life. He touched a red rune.

There was a quick flash of light as the rune targeted Ectorgain from beneath his finger, and then the wizard was gone in a puff of red smoke, leaving all the bottles behind. One of them rolled out in an arc to the passage beyond. The Dark Shadow now had something to report with.


Ectorgain reappeared in a red glowing globe. It appeared that the spell was not as he had thought. The ingenious Mistmaster had evidently taken a variation of the spell; using the rune rays to trap the intruder, not disintegrate them.
He probed about the red bubble, but was soon met by a many-toothed mouth.

“I wouldn’t do that, were I you,” the mouth said wickedly. “The other person popped the bubble, and he didn’t like what he saw.”

“Then I follow Grady.” Ectorgain drew his dagger and popped the bubble.

Down he plunged, through a swirling mass of crimson and black light. He fell quite a way before he finally hit the bottom, jarring his spine against the stone-hard ground. He was in a vast place, and ghoulish figures were beginning to rise about him.

“Where am I?”

“You are in a place seen little by mortal eyes,” the mouth said, opening out of thin air to reveal large fangs. “The little boy didn’t like it one bit. But the monsters here liked him – a little bit of food though he was.”

“Grady is not dead. I know this, so don’t play games.”

“But what about Arvin? He is as good as dead, and by your hand, too…” The mouth mused softly, and then ended in a harsh cackle.

“How do you know these things?”

“Everything in your mind is lain bare for me in this realm. All your worst fears come to life…” As it spoke, a black armored knight rose from the ground and waved an evil sword menacingly – the sword that had killed his mother before his eyes, long ago.

“These are just fears,” Ectorgain stated flatly, though not without a gulp of fear. “And one of my fears was to find Grady dead – and I know he is alive.”

“By whose authority?” Snarled the voice, angry at being countered.

“Mine.” The Sorceress in Gray descended once again, for the third time that day.

“You have no power here. All you are is an image.”

“As are you.” She waved her hand, and the mouth melted away, leaving a foul stench. “Ectorgain. Find Grady.” She vanished as clouds of red and black smoke enveloped her.

The old wizard stood up and glanced around. The illusions of fear were gone, and all that was left was an empty plane.


He came across Grady a little while later, after using all his magic to scan the bleak realm. The boy was bobbing around in the air, screaming in terror and clawing at his sides. He was in the throes of his worst fears. Ectorgain could not bear to listen to the incoherent babble coming out of the boy’s mouth.

“Grady!” He called.

“No! I failed you! I failed mamma an’ papa an’ all of ‘em! They gonna hate me so bad!” He screamed again before rolling in the air and clutching his face like it was burning.

“Nm’su i’il.” Ectorgain said, and disabling magic flowed from his hands.

“I’m sorry! I’ll never touch the bottles again!”

He frowned that his magic didn’t work. “Oka habinaeth mrorkit.” This time he wanted to dispel the magic binding the boy.

“Yes, yes! Arvin is always better than me! I’m fat! I’m useless!”

He breathed in deeply and called upon the strongest spell he knew for this situation. “Domina tel’gohorof themenn.” Magic swirled about the young boy’s head and entered through his ears. He calmed down instantly.

“Come down, Grady.”

“Yes, master.” The enthralled Grady descended as if on steps of air to the ground. He stopped and gazed unblinkingly ahead.

“Give me your piece of the crystal.”

“Yes, master.” He began to hunt around in his pockets until he came upon a grubby little pouch – similar to the one of dirt and pebbles Arvin had been carrying. He opened it up and held out the shard of crystal in his chubby, filthy hand. This time, Ectorgain did not recoil from the dirt, but took the flawless crystal from the boy’s hands.

He wrapped his own weathered palms about the boy’s hands. “Wake up, Grady.” The boy’s eyes opened and darted about. “There is nothing to fear now. I am here, and we will both go home.”

“No, you won’t!” Came an angry voice. Ectorgain spun to see Forehorn come marching across the plane.

“Who is that?” Grady whispered.

“An evil, evil man.” Ectorgain stood squarely as Forehorn approached. “Go home, Forehorn. Go to the priests of Ilmater and get your hands healed.”

“After you give me the shard,” he yelled. His face was twisted in pain and rage. “The Mistmaster arrived in the time it took me to find you. I have suffered his magic and his rage over the ‘thefts,’ and I want what I supposedly stole! Give me my due!”

Over his shoulder, the face appeared, muttering to itself. “Stupid banishment spells. I’ll call Mystra on this one… well, what have we here? An uninitiated newcomer?” It cackled, and Forehorn turned around to face it.

“Go away, little mouth. Suckle your mother’s teat. I have business to take care of.”
The mouth was silent, but the incredible anger building up was very tangible. “You have no idea of to whom you speak.”

“I care not.”

“You will. You will suffer the wrath of Cyric. I amuse myself here at the behest of the Mistmaster, a rather good deal for what it requires. But I do not suffer insults from PETTY MAGES!” The mouth began to grow until it was as tall as an ogre. It opened wide, revealing not the air previous, but a grotesque world of writhing maggots and black, twisted souls. “WELCOME TO YOUR NIGHTMARE!” The voice boomed, and swallowed Forehorn whole.

The face turned to the old man and young boy. “The Sorceress in Gray has made her case for you! Be gone from this realm!” It lurched forward and swallowed them too.


The other side was quite different from what Forehorn had entered. It was a quiet, wooded glade. The sun was just rising, and the stars were still glittering in the sky. The peaceful breezes of an early autumn morning blew around them, carrying scents of night flowers and silent smiles.

A shimmering doorway appeared in the glade, and the Mistmaster stepped out. He was exactly like Grady had seen in his false dream – an elderly man draped in folds of gray, with a proud and noble look upon his face.

“I would request that your piece of the crystal be returned to my safekeeping,” the man intoned, leveling his hand. “I would appreciate no hassle in this, as it will be task enough to find my retainers and servants missing from the Citadel of the Mists.”

A silent image of a Sorceress in Gray appeared beside the Mistmaster and nodded softly. Only Grady could see. Grady tugged at Ectorgain’s arm and urged him to give the crystal over.

Ectorgain took the lad’s word for it and deposited the small shard within the older mage’s grasp. “I don’t suppose you’d have a decent vintage wine as a reward, hmm?” He asked gently. His voice was normal now; far different from the cracking tones he had been forced to use the night before when the two boys had accidentally knocked their play swords against his tree.

“No, young wizard, I don’t. But I take it you have an interest in my longevity potions? I don’t really need them – I have other sources, so you may have a bottle. See if you can make it taste a little better when you brew it.” He handed over a blue bottle. “Now, be sure to bring back young Arvin. For a change, the birds don’t seem to like the intrusion in their space.” He turned around and went back through the shimmering doorway.

Ectorgain turned around to see the entrance to the elven halls, with the statue of Arvin still standing there. Only one bird was perched on him, and it hadn’t even left droppings yet.

“What’d you do to Arvin?” Grady cried. “You killed ‘im!”

“No,” Ectorgain scoffed. “I just kept him safe.” He waved his hand and said a few gestures, and Arvin moved once again, startling the poor dove into hysterics.

“Yes, I WILL!” Arvin called, but then stopped. “Grady? You’re alive? And its morning and the wizard just moved a few feet in an instant?” He stopped and scratched his head.

“That’s why you didn’t need to come,” Ectorgain chuckled. “I was only going to be a moment.” He turned to Grady who was going over to check up on his friend. “Grady, you have shown magical talent beyond anything I would have expected. Should it be approved by your parents, how would you feel about becoming my apprentice?”
Grady’s chubby jaw opened and he mumbled a few words.

“You said you wanted to be a wizard.”

“Yeah! Yeah, sure!”

“The road will be long and difficult, and I’ll have to see if you can really handle what you’re getting into…”

“Yes! Yes! I’m-a gonna be a wizurd!” He did a little dance.

“And me?” Arvin asked.

“Yer gonna be a warrior,” scoffed Grady.

“If he wants to, he’ll have to take the same tests as you, and get the same permission from his parents.” Ectorgain moved forward and placed his weathered hands on the boys’ shoulders. “We’ll see.”

Ectorgain smiled as the two boys did a little dance of joy. A soft voice came whispering into his ear.

“You’ve done good today, Ectorgain Myzynge,” the Sorceress in Gray whispered. She planted a cool kiss on his cheek. “For an old crusty hermit, you’ve done good. Take care of the futures of those two. I will no longer be helping you – you’ve had enough help for a lifetime.”

“We’ll see,” he repeated. “We’ll see.”