by T. H. Lain
Yddith saw the paladin smile and drop her arms to her side.
"At least," announced the paladin, "the evil within Qorrg isn't gaining strength. It might even have lessened."
The party picked up their belongings and started out anew on their quest. It seemed highly unlikely that Hassq's enchantment of Krusk could last overnight, and Yddith felt confident that she could distract the barbarian for that long with her own charm. Her real concern was that her adamant refusal to abandon using the emerald's power was creating a rift between herself and Alhandra. She decided to try a conversational gambit that would emphasize their common experience, if there was one.
"Before we left Pergue," the one-eyed woman reminded the paladin, "you mentioned that you needed someone to trust once, but he wasn't there."
Alhandra looked uncomfortable. She turned her eyes to the ground and reddened slightly. She hesitated for an agonizingly long moment before responding.
"His name was Argyll Bruce, the eldest son of a highborn lord. He was the best rider, the finest swordsman, the most magnificent dancer and the most handsome man I've ever known." She raised her chin to make eye contact with the one-eyed woman, and Yddith could see a trace of extra moisture in the paladin's glistening eyes. "We were betrothed and I was in love," Alhandra continued. "Commoner and noble alike said we were a perfect match. They were wrong."
The paladin surprised Yddith by changing emotion with an incredible suddenness. She spat on the ground to punctuate the finality of her assessment. "They were wrong because horsemanship, weapon prowess, elegant grace, and exceeding good looks are no foundation for love. I saved myself for him and he betrayed me."
Yddith sucked in her breath, nearly missing a twist on the knot she was tying. "He took advantage of you?"
In spite of the painful memory, Alhandra seemed amused at Yddith's horrified reaction. The paladin obviously assumed that in spite of her naive demeanor, Yddith was not unfamiliar with the ways of men.
"No, not physically," the paladin continued, "but he betrayed my love with churlish disregard. We were out riding, jumping fallen trees and earthen mounds. It was a beautiful day and we'd been racing and jumping like demons from Baator. We were leagues away from civilization when a downpour was unleashed upon us. We weren't expecting the thunderstorm. There'd been no sign before we left, and we certainly risked catching the ague if we rode all the way back dressed as we were."
As Yddith and the paladin walked along, she sensed that some of the chasm that had opened between the two women was closing again. There was nothing like sharing a heartbreak to re-ignite a sense of trust. She waited patiently for Alhandra to continue.
"We found a hunter's lodge and built a fire. Argyll suggested we dry our clothes in front of the fire, but…uh…that's an old gambit, and I wasn't about to fall for it. I told him that I loved him and that I was saving myself for him. He made some half-hearted suggestion that that particular day was the rainy day for which I was always told to save. I told him that we were destined for connubial bliss, and I wasn't going to trade it away for an afternoon's ecstasy in a musty old lodge where he would probably have to share his love bites with the fleas in the sleeping furs."
"And do you have regrets?" asked Yddith. "Do you think you drove him away?"
Alhandra breathed deeply before answering, "It was the right decision, little sister, though it came to even more of a foul end than you realize. I not only lost the man I thought I loved. I lost my reputation, also."
"But you said," interrupted Yddith, "that you told him you wouldn't!"
"And I didn't," responded the paladin, "but we returned to town after the storm and the gossips were already telling their tales at Washerwoman's Rock. His mates at the tavern couldn't believe he could possibly be alone with such a beauty and keep his hands off. My love not only failed to defend his fair flower of womanhood, for such he had always called me, but he didn't bother to tell them that the fair flower had kept every petal of her womanhood intact."
"He lied?" asked Yddith in such refreshing disbelief that Alhandra couldn't help but laugh.
"He lied," answered the paladin. "He lied with words and he lied with silence. Not only did I lose the opportunity for that nuptial match, but I was considered a tainted woman. It wasn't long before I joined the service of Heironeous, where actions speak louder than words, particularly louder than lies, spoken or unspoken. I guess that's why I have no patience for those who choose to live between the darkness and the light as shadows."
Yddith winced as Alhandra's sermon came full circle back to her. She knew for certain that the paladin disapproved of the emerald's power, but she also sensed that she would need the gem's assistance to have any chance against the clerics of Gruumsh. She had heard it claimed many times in the tavern that it was necessary to fight fire with fire. Now that she was comprehending the nature of the gem, she vowed to fight evil with evil and trust the two negatives to bring a positive conclusion.
18
Archprelate Laud observed the uncertainty on Calmet's face and lectured his star pupil once again. "I promise you a demonstration of power that you will never forget." He escorted Calmet along the cavern walls and pointed out the characteristics of each hybrid warrior. "Here's an interesting one," the hierarch expounded. "I was planning to use these as shock troops."
Laud snapped his fingers, and the chained orc soldier contorted its face until the skin pulled away from the skull, exposing bare bone.
No sooner had Laud revealed the purpose of the strange monstrosity than it unleashed a horrid screech. The archprelate watched with amusement as Calmet mustered every ounce of courage within himself to remain rooted beside Laud. Laud wanted his apostate apprentice to visualize how entire armies might run away upon seeing the death mask visage and hearing the preternatural wail of his monster. After all, Calmet was obviously growing in power and needed to be reeducated on the depth of his tutor's ingenuity.
Laud pointed to the next specimen, a beefy human knight encased in a brown, crusty suit of armor. As Calmet looked closer, however, Laud pointed out the chitinous shoulders bulging out from the freakish human's torso and the arms encased in an insect's armored shell. The massive arms fairly dragged the ground like a troll's, even though the mutated human was standing upright in the alcove. Laud seemed particularly anxious to demonstrate to Calmet that the chitinous arms ended in sharp, clawlike pincers instead of hands.
Laud couldn't wait to explain how he formed these diabolical nightmares. He was proud of his accomplishments, and he gave no credence whatsoever to the Peloran admonition that pride presages a plunge. Laud wasn't even sure he liked the proverb's alliterative conceit, much less its philosophy that pandered to the weak.
As he led Calmet to the next monstrosity, he calmly explained that he had done considerable research in necromancy and transmutation since turning to the one-eyed god.
"Gruumsh honors the strong," contended the archprelate, "and what is stronger than the victor? Every time I heard of a monster being slain, I sent my men to gather vital body parts. I took the combat ready portions of a monster's body and sewed them onto amputated and decapitated humanoids."
Laud amused himself by watching the Gruumshlike tinge of green that colored Calmet's face as his pupil considered the implications behind Laud's words.
"Decapitated?" the younger cleric asked.
"Decapitated," affirmed Laud. "Of course, one must then raise the dead without destroying the transmutation magic and the potency of the necromancy. You saw my ethereal slaughterer, did you not?"
When Calmet's face looked blank, Laud continued, "It's an ethereal marauder, really, but I can't wait to unleash it on southern troops. I hope it lives up to my new name."
The next specimen would have looked human enough were it not for the blue-black tentacles protruding from his shoulder blades. The tentacles were long and curled menacingly in front of the abomination, each ending in a lighter, almost violet pad filled with thornlike protrusions.
"Strike him!" the archprelate commanded Calmet.
Calmet hesitated.
"Strike him!" ordered the hierarch once more.
Calmet brought his flail out and aimed the blow viciously at the unfortunate's face. The priest nearly winced as the weapon struck unerringly, but he was glad he hadn't. If he had winced, he wouldn't have believed that the blow passed through the monster without causing any injury, or without actually striking anything whatsoever.
Laud cackled with pleasure. "Try again," commanded the harsh taskmaster.
Calmet focused on his swing and prepared to bash the monster's head in. He knew for certain that he would connect this time. He didn't.
"Will I always miss?" Calmet asked his mentor.
"No, not always," laughed Laud with a sinister chuckle. "I believe you'll miss about half the time. That's often enough for him to destroy his enemies by attrition. He keeps wounding and weakening them while they…" Laud couldn't resist the pun as he glanced at Calmet's weapon, "flail away aimlessly."
"How do you know?" the younger priest queried.
"By testing them in battle, of course," came Laud's patronizing answer.
"You have them fight each other?" asked Calmet in amazement. "Aren't they too rare to kill in experimentation?"
"Don't be absurd," scoffed Laud. "When you're dealing with necromancy, you merely bring back the dead. But I tire of talk. Let me show you."
The archprelate called out to several guards in a nearby passage and ordered them to take the chitinous atrocity to the pit in the adjoining cavern.
"Now, you'll see a display of raw power such as you've never seen before."
Laud watched without sympathy as one guard was injured and another killed in the process of moving the two monsters. After a time of inhuman growling and roaring, mixed with the shouts of the unfortunate handlers, the two clerics moved to the edge of the pit and observed two horrors squaring off beneath them. One was the fighter with insectoid armor. The other was a large humanoid with black scales and a head shaped like a bull's.
"A minotaur?" Calmet guessed aloud before the archprelate pointed out that the long horns jutting from the bovine head were silver.
"No," Laud corrected his pupil, "a gorgon. I think you'll enjoy the results."
The battle began. The gorgonoid charged the insectoid in an attempt to gore the longarmed foe. The insectoid twisted and brought its right claw down in a raking attack against the gorgonoid's unprotected eyes. The claw drew an inhuman ichor from the exposed eye and caused the bull's head to thrash from side to side until a horn contacted the insectoid's torso and its sharp point plunged into the creature's chest like a dagger.
The pincerlike claws of the punctured foe smashed against the scales of the gorgonoid, ripping loose some of the monster's natural armor and spraying a fountain of stinking liquid from under the scales. Pained, the gorgonoid jumped back and breathed a noxious gas at the insectoid. Whatever the breath was, it seemed to do no damage to the insectoid, which didn't slow its aggressive onslaught.
"Well done!" shouted Laud, his blood lust revealed in breathless excitement. "It often turns its foes to stone in the first attack. Now, it must hang on and regenerate that substance in its lungs!"
Calmet's eyes widened as claw and horn continued ripping the opponents to shreds. Each new wound seemed to enthuse Laud with an almost sexual excitement until the gorgonoid stepped back and exhaled its noxious breath once more. The putrid looking cloud erupted from the gorgonoid's mouth and enfolded itself around the insectoid warrior like a shroud, just as before. However, when the cloud cleared a moment later, a stone statue of the monstrosity stood in its place.
Laud clapped his hands like a child, and Calmet followed suit, afraid to do anything else. The cleric understood another vital element in the archprelate's plan; how he intended to fuel the revolution once the shrine was restored. With these monsters at the forefront of his armies and the power of Gruumsh at his disposal, there was no doubt that Laud would rule the land. He might even invade the southern regions. Revenge was a savory morsel to the powerful.
19
Alhandra was troubled. Ever since she consecrated her life to Heironeous, she had been able to count on his guidance to help her know who to trust and who not to trust. Now, she was confused. She could perceive auras after she asked her god to assist her in detecting evil and she was relieved to see that the slime green aura of Gruumsh was becoming a pale green around Qorrg. The orc was undergoing a transformation, a conversion to good, or at least away from evil.
She couldn't say quite the same thing about Yddith. The intriguing girl had once exuded the most incredibly pure aura. After the fight in the swamp and later, after her strange interaction with Krusk, her aura showed an emerald tint around the edges. To be sure, there wasn't enough evidence to claim that the woman was becoming evil. It was just a shame to see such an innocent become tainted in any way. In fact, Alhandra was fairly sure she knew why Yddith showed signs of taint. She was certain that the emerald Yddith used as a replacement eye was an artifact of power, one with the potential to seduce the erstwhile barmaid into something quite different from the courageous woman she had become. Yddith was no longer the weak but courageous girl who began this trek with the three warriors. She was becoming powerful.
And Power, thought the champion of valor, corrupts. Let's hope it doesn't corrupt our Yddith too much.
Even though it was a new day and Jozan had been welcomed back into the group without a second glance from Krusk, Alhandra wasn't comforted. She observed Yddith sitting on an overturned tree trunk, nibbling on a piece of pork rind. As always, Krusk stood near her as though the barbarian was drawing sustenance from her presence. Not too far away from the mismatched turtledoves, Jozan seemed to have his mind adrift in a celestial fog of soul-searching. Alhandra suspected that the young cleric doubted his worthiness, again. She wondered if she ought to give him a brief homily on being chosen to serve when Qorgg returned and motioned for Krusk and Alhandra to join him. The three melted into the trees, briefly leaving Yddith to her breakfast and Jozan to his doubt.
The three scouts climbed onto a large rock outcropping. Peering over the rock, Alhandra looked down on a pathetic sight. A fast-flowing stream raced down the side of the mountain. About a long bow shot from the stream was a dark opening in the side of the hill. To the right of the opening was forest. Beyond that was a clearing that had been deforested to build a low wooden barracks building or dormitory.
The pathetic sight was a group of bedraggled women and children on their hands and knees on both sides of the fast-moving stream. Though their hands were free to perform tasks in the stream, their legs were chained together. Their hair and clothes were filthy. Their left eye sockets were empty, an unholy mockery that testified to the ruthless devotion of Gruumsh's servants. Many of the women and some of the children had the backs of their clothes torn open where they had obviously been whipped. Congealed blood and infected wounds were widespread, and the odor was noticeable, even where Alhandra crouched.
As the three watched, men who were chained together would exit the dark opening in the hillside carrying large sacks of loose gravel. They dumped the sacks beside the stream and shuffled back to the mine, but rarely departed before one or more were abused by the orcs guarding the women and children. The women and children then dug bowls into the debris extracted by the male slaves and returned to the stream. Kneeling beside the water, they dipped the bowls into the stream and swished them around with careful, practiced motions, all the while picking out larger chunks of rock and earth. Eventually, when the process was through, nothing but specks of gold remained in the bottoms of the bowls. The captives would then stand up and migrate to a table where at least three guards were always on watch. There they dumped their bowls into a larger one and repeated the process. If they failed to work fast enough, they were lashed on their way back to the stream.
Alhandra was barely aware of Krusk slipping back to the ot
hers and returning with Yddith. The paladin immediately observed Yddith placing her hand over her mouth in reaction to the horrors that the women and children were facing. The paladin realized that Yddith's reaction must be all the more poignant once the barmaid realized that this was where she and the rest of her village had been headed after their capture by the slavers. Turning back to the clearing, Alhandra studied both the worn, flea-ridden hide tents of the slaves and the long, wooden barracks building from which she saw humans and orcs regularly emerge.
She didn't like the place and breathed slightly easier as Qorrg, Krusk, and Yddith began making their way back to where Jozan waited impatiently. They compared observations and estimates, concluding that there were at least a dozen guards on the women and children, possibly twice that many, judging from the traffic going in and out of the barracks.
"I'd like to spring a surprise attack on them," suggested Alhandra, "but there's one big problem." She looked meaningfully at Jozan. "I've been beside Jozan when he tried to be stealthy, and there is no possible way for him to succeed."
She saw the cleric redden for a moment before he responded in protest. "I've actually thought about that," Jozan admitted. "I think I can move part of the way up the hill and invoke silence before we clamber up the steepest part of that slope."
Everyone nodded, realizing the wisdom in Jozan's plan to create an area of silence around the five of them. They would watch from the outcropping and continue to reconnoiter the camp until they saw enough of a disruption in routine to allow for a full-scale ambush.
This time, the plan worked as the group anticipated. Alhandra watched Jozan mime the compass points of the sun and breathe the Celestial word, "Pacis."