In loose columns, the spirits advanced in their direction. They appeared to be walking, but their feet remained a fingerbreadth above the ground, and their robes of silvery samite rustled to a much gentler wind than the gusts that pulled at Jak's sodden cloak. Each bore a ghostly candle, and shielded it with her hands as though to protect it from the rain that was, in reality, passing through both candle and bearer. The candle flames were the source of the blue glow. Though they made no sound, their mouths moved in unison and Jak felt as though the ghosts were chanting or singing.
From beside Jak, Cale spoke in a distant voice: "The Summoners of the Sun. The last hope of Elgrin Fau."
Jak heard Cale's words but their import barely registered. He could not take his eyes from the processional of ghosts. Their silent, somber beauty hypnotized him. Though the spirits were walking the road below them, Jak felt no fear; he did not bother to reach for his holy symbol. Instead, he felt a deep sadness that went before the spirits like a wave. They wore the resigned expressions of the condemned, but held fast to their candles as though those flames were the only possibility of salvation.
Magadon's bowstring creaked and he prepared to let fly.
Cale put a hand on the guide's shoulder and whispered, "They can cause no harm, Magadon. Let them pass."
The woodsman hesitated for a moment before relaxing his bow.
The tide of ghosts continued toward the party then turned right exactly below them and headed up the street. They seemed oblivious to the companions. The women were all tall and slender, with light hair and fair skin. Their eyes were wide and slightly upturned at the corners, their earlobes unusually large and bedecked with several earrings. Jak thought them beautiful, surreal, and alien. He watched them as they passed by.
"Where are they going?" he asked, of no one in particular.
"East," Cale said. "To stand in the plains and pray for the sun to rise again. They think they're still in their own world, but they are not. The sun never rises here." Cale's yellow eyes fixed on the women as they moved away. "They are the lingering memories of Elgrin Fau, Jak, once called the City of Silver."
The halfling stared at Cale with his mouth hanging open.
Magadon too looked at Cale with surprise in his white eyes.
Beside Cale, Riven nodded knowingly and said, "When Kesson Rel stole the sky, the inhabitants of Elgrin Fau began to perish. The darkness of this plane consumed thousands before it was sated. The survivors were long ago scattered to the planes."
The assassin's gaze swept the length and breadth of the ruins.
Jak tried to imagine the city, living, filled with people and light, but he could not. The Plane of Shadow had left it a dark husk. He thought of the tragedy represented there and a chill ran up his spine. He shared a look with Magadon, whose knucklebone eyes had grown thoughtful. Jak looked from Cale to Riven, Riven to Cale.
"How do you two know any of that?" he softly asked, and was not sure he wanted to know the answer.
"I saw it," Cale said, then he frowned and cocked his head. "Or perhaps I read it."
Riven looked at Cale curiously before answering, "I dreamed it."
Jak nodded as though he understood, but he did not. He simply could think of nothing to say. Things were too large for comment. When he looked at Cale he still saw his friend, but he saw something else too, something grander, something darker. A hero? For some reason, he thought of Sephris.
The First of Five, he thought, and wondered what that actually meant.
In respectful silence, they all watched the ghosts continue their hopeless trek east through the rain, to pray for a sun they would never again see. Cale gazed upon them wistfully.
When the spirits had vanished from sight, Magadon asked in a quiet voice, "Erevis, do you know if the flashing light we saw earlier is a way home?"
Cale, who had been lost in thought, came back to himself.
He shook his head and said softly, "I don't know, Mags. I wish I did. But. . . things are coming back to me."
"Back to you?" Jak asked. "What does that mean?"
Cale shrugged and said, "That's the only way I can explain it, little man."
Jak resolved in that instant to get Cale away from the Plane of Shadow at all hazards. The darkness there was sinking into Cale, soaking him. Jak didn't want to think about what would happen to his friend if he became saturated with it. He didn't want to think about what would happen to any of them. For the first time, Jak admitted-to himself at least-that he didn't want Cale to be this "First of Five." He didn't even want Cale to be a priest anymore. He wanted Cale to be Cale, his friend and nothing more.
Jak put a hand on Cale's forearm. The shadows that clung to Cale's person coiled defensively around the halfling's fingers.
"Let's keep moving," Jak said. "We need to find the source of that flashing light. It is a way out," he said, hoping that by saying it with certainty he would make it so.
As if in response to Jak's words, from their position atop the roof, they again caught the tantalizing flash of golden light from somewhere near the center of the crypts. They could not see its source, but the color reminded Jak of sunlight.
Lightning flashed, casting the city in vermillion.
"Jak's right," Magadon said, and jumped down from the edifice.
The rest followed, and together they headed through the rain and ruin for the center of town.
As they walked, Jak tried to take Cale's mind off of the ghosts and remind him of something ordinary, of their life before his transformation to shade.
"It was raining just like this last spring when I had a run of Tymora's own luck at the Scarlet Knave. Do you remember that? I must have won ten hands of Scales and Blades in a row. I lived well over the next tenday, my friend. I bought five new hats."
Cale smiled, but his eyes were distant when he replied, "I remember, Jak." After a pause, he softly added, "I remember a lot of things."
To that, Jak could say nothing, but he suddenly missed his hats a great deal. For a time they walked in silence.
At last, Cale looked down at him and said, "Little man, do you remember once, when you were talking about the life, and you said to me, 'This is only what we do, not what we are?'"
"I remember," Jak replied, "That's the truth, Cale."
Cale's mouth was a hard line when he said, "Not anymore."
Before Jak could protest, Riven interrupted them with a saber blade at each of their chests.
"You see?" the assassin said. "You two hens are too busy clucking to-"
With speed and strength that made Jak go wide-eyed, Cale batted Riven's left-hand saber aside, grabbed the assassin by the cloak, and yanked him in close.
The assassin let his blades fall slack and merely stared. Jak detected the beginnings of a smirk at the corners of Riven's mouth, though the assassin's breathing came fast.
Cale answered Riven's stare with one of his own. His yellow eyes flashed. Shadows spiraled around his head.
To his credit, Riven kept his voice level.
"If I was an enemy, Cale, you'd already be dead. It only pays to be fast if you see what's coming. Don't get sloppy. We both know that all of the dead in this city won't be as harmless as those ghosts. Stay sharp, just as you said.
"You too, Fleet. Now-" and his eye narrowed-"put me down."
Cale's expression did not change, but he shoved the assassin away.
Riven kept his feet, chuckled, straightened his cloak, and turned away.