Final Gate Read Free

blank orbs of many-colored light, as they had been for a time after Araevin had completed the telmiirkara neshyrr, but his irises still shimmered with a striking, shifting hue that few others could look at for long. Araevin had taken to wearing hoods for the comfort of the people around him.
    “I cannot read your heart,” she whispered. “What have you done to yourself, Araevin?”
    He had thought long and hard about how to answer that question, if the high mages asked him. In the end he could see that nothing except the truth would serve.
    “I performed a rite devised by the star elf Morthil, once the Grand Mage of Sildeyuir. He was a student of Ithraides of Arcorar. The rite has fitted me to wield high magic in a tradition that Evermeet has forgotten.”
    The three high mages did not look at each other, but Araevin felt the swift, subtle exchange of thoughts among them. If I had achieved high magic by following their way I would understand what they are saying, he told himself. But it seems that my path has led me in a different direction.
    The Evermeetian mages finished their silent conversation. “There is a good reason why our high magic spells require more than one high mage, Araevin,” the grand mage said. “Our spells require consensus, cooperation. No one person should have the responsibility of wielding such power. Do you not see how dangerous you have become? How can you resist the temptation to act when you can, instead of when you must?”
    “I had little choice,” Araevin countered. “The telmiirkara neshyrr gave Ithraides the power to defeat the daemonfey when they first arose in Arcorar, more than five thousand years ago. How else could we hope to defeat Sarya and her corruption of our old mythals?”
    “Haven’t you simply emulated the methods of our enemies by suiting yourself to wield high magic as they do?” Anfalen asked.
    “I cannot unlearn what I have learned, High Mage. All I can do is put my knowledge to the best use I can find for it. What else would you have me do?”
    “Make no works of high magic without our consent,” Olithir said. “That would be a start.”
    Araevin sighed. “I can’t make that promise, Grand Mage.”
    Olithir frowned, and the humor in Anfalen’s eyes faded. “Tell him about the visions, Kileontheal,” the moon elf said.
    “Araevin, there is something more.” The small sun elf folded her hands into her sleeves. “High Mage Isilfarrel has warned us that great danger attends you. She is a seer of no small skill, as you know. She doubts you because you have featured prominently in her visions of late. The specter of some awful disaster hangs over you, and she fears that you will bring it down on all of us.”
    Araevin stood silent for a moment, digesting her warning. “I can’t say that I am pleased to hear that, but I am not surprised,” he finally said. “That is why I asked to speak with you in the first place. I have discovered a terrible peril that threatens all of us, not just Cormanthor or the Crusade. Isilfarrel must have seen this, too.”
    “It seems that these days are full of terrible perils,” Olithir said wearily. “Speak, then.”
    “Have you heard of the Fhoeldin durr?” Araevin asked.
    Olithir and Anfalen frowned, shaking their heads, but Kileontheal nodded and said, “The Waymeet? It is a place where hundreds, perhaps thousands, of doorways meet. Magical portals, leading to many different places in Faerun, the farther lands of Toril, and even other planes. Some human sages call it the Nexus.”
    “That is almost correct,” said Araevin. “The Waymeet is not the place where the doorways meet; it is the cause of the doorways. Many of the old elven portals that crisscross Faerun are emanations or earthly manifestations of the Waymeet. It is the Last Mythal of Aryvandaar.”
    Kileontheal looked up at Araevin. “I did not know that it was a work of Aryvandaar,” she said.
    “The high mages of Aryvandaar broke kingdoms and erased