2 Eleint 1371

Dear Master Zorthaster,

While I fear your disapproval, I feel that I must tell you that recent events have triggered a change in my path. For several months I have felt the draw of the faith of Mystra. In an ancient temple to the goddess Mystryl, I have declared myself forever as a servant of Mystra.

When last I wrote, we were before the doors of the temple. From our little window to the world from the rope trick we could just make out writing on the doors of the temple. With Kerith's Art we determined that the writing was a riddle, likely to allow entry. The question was "for which cause should the Art be used, evil or good?" Consultations and discussions lead me to formulate the response "The art is neither good nor evil. It should be used to further the development of the Art."

To try this out, we had to exit the rope trick. Shane went first, aiming to distract the juggernaut. He ran across the landing, past the temple doors, and stopped in view of the giant stone construct. I immediately followed and when I dropped out of the extra-dimensional space, I erected a wall of force between us and the juggernaut. As the others leapt from the rope trick, a ray sprang from one of the construct's arms and struck the wall of force. I had not realized I was holding my breath until I sighed with relief as the ray ended in a shower of colorful sparks when it hit the invisible wall.

Focusing on the door, I began to speak our response. I had just spoken the word "neither" when we all suddenly found ourselves inside the temple. This place had not suffered the ravages of time. It was spotless and beautiful. Most impressive was a ghostly image of a woman before a floating mirror. The mirror reflected an illusion of the night sky above, broken only where a few stones had fallen from the ceiling. The gaps revealed the bright desert sky. In the center of the mirror and hovering over it, was a white-hot fire. All the colors of the rainbow bled off around the edges of the flames. It may have been just a trick of the eye, but it seemed as though there was an extra color, one not found in the normal rainbow, but it was difficult to be sure.

Beyond the fire was a large urn and two torches. Along the walls were four niches, empty, but decorated with mystical symbols. The beautiful image spoke to us, saying that she was the last guardian. A worthy arcanist must take the cup, fill it with heavy magic and place the cup in the matching alcove. Only by completing this task could we relieve her of her burden and let the dead of this city rest forever. When I approached closer, expecting her to hand me a cup, she asked "What counters General Matick's missile?" Immediately I replied "shield." Four nishiru appeared and began to attack. Realizing my error, I frantically pulled my notes from the backpack and found that in ancient days, the spell was called "General Matick's shield". When I gave that answer, the cup appeared. Unfortunately, the nishiru remained and continued to attack. The cup was marked with finely graven lightning bolts round the rim. Taking advantage of a fly spell I had cast earlier, I flew to the urn, dodging the horrid red clouds of mist, and shouting to my friends. I urged them to attack with blade and arrow and fire. They did not believe at first that the nishiru could be hurt with blades until Oskar ripped into one with his urgosh.

Meanwhile, I filled the cup with a silver, heavy liquid inside the urn. One alcove had lightnings carved through its arch so I placed the cup on the shelf located in the niche. There was an incredibly powerful surge of light and energy that burst from the cup. It passed through all of us and out to the edges of the city. In that instant, all the undead were destroyed.

Unfortunately, the nishiru were not killed. I tried to recover the cup to use it again, but it crumbled to dust. I flew back to the ghostly apparition and asked for a second cup. She asked what was the best spell for flight? Again I raced through my notes where I listed the old names. "Stoca's Wings!" I shouted. Another cup. Still the same old nishiru. Again I filled the cup with heavy magic from the urn and placed it in the proper alcove. A wave of red energy burst from the heavy magic , this time destroying the juggernaut before passing out into the far reaches of the city. By the time I had completed this part of the task, the Wandsmen had killed the last of the nishiru. As I filled that cup though, I had noticed, submerged in the heavy magic, two metal plates. One was a silvery metal, another composed of a golden material.

I returned to the last guardian to hear "Who invented fears and killers in the mind?" I knew that one. "Carbury!" I replied. I fumbled the pronunciation in my haste, but corrected myself before more nishiru appeared.. Without the magic draining mists filling the room, in was an easy task to fill the cup and place it in its proper place. A blue wave of force burst from the heavy magic this time and caused the destruction of what I believe may have been the last remaining mythallar. Its explosion destroyed all the buildings in the vicinity.

Since we seemed to have some time, Kerith examined the plates hidden in the urn. They had magical writing on them. He read aloud the magical words and since he had gifted me with the spell of tongues, I could understand some of their meaning. It dawned on us that these were two of the Nether Scrolls! I got the shakes and stopped breathing until Shane helped calm me down. When Primula heard what these things were, she was all for leaving them here, buried beneath the sands of the desert. Several others in our group advocated removing them to keep them out of the hands of the Shades. The priestess asked for time to meditate until morning so she could ask guidance from her god. The discussion about the use of magic, hubris, the fleeting span of mortal lives, and the morality of taking the scrolls left my mind in a whirl and gave me much to think about as we all rested and prayed and meditated.

Questions about my Art and the gods, and you and your Art rose and could not be easily ignored. In the end, after many hours of thoughtful meditation, I found deep within myself a greater joy and love of pure, unbounded Art that ran stronger than the respect and admiration I had for the rituals and strictures of magic. I discovered that to be true to myself, I must pursue this joyous path of Art whatever may lay ahead with the completion of this task.

Following Primula's prayers in the morning, she asked if I felt worthy to take on the challenge of these scrolls. I did not hesitate to tell her that while I myself did not feel worthy, I felt that with the strength and skills of the Wandsmen beside me, with my friends' support, there was no challenge that we could not meet. The elf then spoke formal words binding her life to mine until the end of my days. I don't know just what it meant yet, but I mean to find out. At any rate, my words, coupled with her own seemed to solidify her purpose and she told us that we should remove these scrolls from the temple for their safekeeping.

I approached the apparition again knelt. I pledged myself forever as a servant of Mystra and asked for the last cup. Her riddle puzzled me for too long and four nishiru again appeared and attacked. I found the answer to the riddle when I discovered that the Lord Shadow developed the spells shadow door, shadow magic and shadow monsters. The cup appeared and before I could take it a nishiru enveloped me. It drained the spells of fly and haste and sucked some of the Art from the collection of wands I carried. On foot I raced to the urn. Reaching it I removed the scrolls and placed them in my pack. I filled the last cup and placed the left over heavy magic in an empty potion vial. The other Wandsmen killed the nishiru, clearing my path to the final alcove. As I placed the cup, an explosion of black energy erupted and I found myself caught up in a vision. At our caravan I saw the Zhentarim taking sport with the prisoners. One had been brutally tortured and was dead. The others, also tortured, were still alive but were badly injured.

I returned to find the apparition gone and the white flame flaring higher. In the flames was the face of a woman of unearthly beauty and unimaginable sadness. Into my head thoughts and images crashed. Sadness for not seeing the mistake of Karsus before it was too late. The burden of guarding the last bit of heavy magic. Gratitude towards us for releasing the fragment of Mystryl that had been trapped here. Knowledge that the two gifts of lore hidden here were given by Shyreda and Shadow. Strong urging to use the lore wisely. A release and a final goodbye.

Sand and bits of stone sifted down from the ceiling. It was time to leave quickly. The temple was not likely to stand much longer. I used a passwall to get us out of the temple before it collapsed. We arrived in Mystryl's plaza to find our mounts scattered and running wild. Towering walls of wind blown sand surrounded the city, appearing to be ready to bury the city in a furious attack. I had nothing ready to save us all. One small teleport spell was all I had that gave any hope. That would only help a few of us and I refused to leave anyone behind. Hoping that something good might happen, I drank the last of the heavy magic and began the words of a teleport. Only a scream came out and with a flash of magic we found ourselves standing beside the caravan.

Power surged in my blood. I glared at Vestelle and saw the evil rotting her spirit. A glance at Evendur revealed an empty husk, a tool for evil's purpose. A fury long suppressed lashed out. The Wandsmen revealed their true allegiance and brought holy fire and righteous wrath down on the shocked Zhentarim. Not one survived the sudden storm.

We moved to assist the injured Bedine and discovered that hundreds more had us surrounded. I tried speaking to them in the Midani tongue, but they would have none of it. Just as I thought we would have to fight, a command had them all standing down. A large Bedine warrior came forward and to all our amazement revealed himself as Kerith's father and Lela Suud! It was a marvelous reunion.

Today we are guests of the Bedine and are being treated well. I am careful with my use of the Art as it causes the desert people to become unsettled. I have had a bit more time to read the Nether scrolls however. One is entitled Planus Mechanus and details much about the planes and how they fit together. It includes some important information about the existence of the shadow weave, the plane of shadow and will likely reveal secrets of shadow magic as I study it further. The silver plate is Major Creare and reveals much about the spell analyze dweomer. I believe that it could lead to significant insights into the workings of that spell if I gave the scroll sufficient study.

Amongst the horrible cargo in the caravan we discovered a letter from Darvin to Vestelle. It revealed that we were soon to be killed. Also in the letter was information about an army coming from Llorkh to meet the caravan in Olomaa. Lela Suud was happy to have the news about the army. I suspect the forces of the Zhentarim will never arrive at Olomaa.

Soon we intend to return to Daggerfalls. Our mission is at an end. We have done much more than we set out to do here in the desert. The Night Lion tells us that when he was working for the Zhents in Daggerfalls he encountered Tren Noemfor. It was a meeting that changed his life. Until that time he thought it was acceptable to do his job and not worry about good and evil. Tren taught him that if he simply stood by and did nothing to fight evil, he helps evil spread. He saw the need to take a stand. With Tren's help and knowledge of the desert, Kerith's father became Lela Suud, a plague on the Zhents in Anauroch.

Your student,

Cedar