City of Torment as-2

by Bruce R Cordell

  Nothing immediately attacked. Anusha got control of her breathing. They dangled thirty or so feet below a sl ick ceiling of rough stone. She turned and stared at the tableau below, trying to make sense of the scene. Aboleths clustered around the hole from which they'd emerged. The creatures huddled in discrete rows radiating away from the circular gap. The rows contained differing numbers of aboleths, one line had just three, another at least twenty.

  Most of the aboleths had bluish backsides the color of darkened bruises, with reddish underbellies. Some claimed distinct colorations from their brethren, and of these, some were noticeably smaller than average, others larger.

  All possessed too many red eyes, and all voiced a screeching, chantlike rumble that wove through the air like a swarm of blood-seeking insects. She hadn't heard the sound from below. Had they just started? None of the creatures seemed to be looking up at her or Yeva dangling above them.

  Four of the rows convulsed. A ripple of movement pushed four creatures from their perch on the hole's edge.

  They dropped, tentacles flailing, like stones into a well, into the orrery chamber.

  "Those four-did you see their color?" Yeva said, loudly enough to be heard over the vocalizations. "Green, black, and two blue-red. Like the globes just born below. It means something. The symbols, the colors… I think these beasts are conferring on themselves the power of flight!"

  Before Anusha could comment, something moved to her right.

  Ari aboleth hovered just ten feet from her and Yeva. It was the mottled quartz one with five eyes they'd seen below, rasping a newborn orb with its toothed tongue. Four of its eyes roved around, searching. But one was focused directly upon Anusha.

  The creature loosed a questioning tone like the chirp of a curious crow. Simultaneously, a voice devoid of personality echoed in Anusha's head, Is it of the body? Is it of Xxiphu? Is it benign? Is it a parasite? What is it?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Green Siren on the Sea of Fallen Stars

  Thoster stood at the wheel watching his crew take Green Siren out to sea. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his stance was one of stern attention. The crew dallied less when the captain's eyes were on them.

  But his mind was on Seren. The wizard had always been trouble. He'd just never realized how much. A price on her head, set by Thay itself. He wondered what the amount had grown to.

  Not that he was tempted to collect on it himself. Anyone foolish enough to claim a fee from Szass Tam deserved whatever he got. No, he worried about the attention Seren's presence drew to his ship. Attention a whole lot more dangerous than he'd have knowingly risked.

  "Course, the damage is already done," he muttered. Morgenthel knew Seren was on GreenSiren, knew Thoster's name, and knew the wizard had protectors. He wondered how closely Morgenthel and Thay were actually entwined. Hopefully, the man was merely a bounty hunter who talked big. Such things were possible.

  Were he in Morgenthel's shoes, Thoster would claim more familiarity with Thay's rulers than was strictly true.

  Seren was back on deck, checking the integrity of her chalk-scribed circle. The woman seemed intent on continuing her employment with the half-elf. He'd always assumed the woman's desire for gold was purely mercenary. Apparently, she hoped to purchase back her life.

  He wondered what it would take to purchase back his own.

  "Mtuo'san!" Thoster called to the first mate. A woman with a long silver braid looked up from berating a crew member. "I'm going below. Keep on eye on things."

  "Aye, Cap'n!" she said.

  Mharsan had stepped into the role of Green Siren's first mate after the previous one met a bloody end below Gethshemeth's isle. She was competent, though just as taken with rum as her predecessor.

  Thoster walked down the aftcastle stair and saw Raidon. The monk sat propped against the mainmast, his legs crossed and his eyes blank as glass marbles. He didn't seem actively worried about Seren's revelation. 'Course, who could tell with the half-elf? The captain suspected the spellscarred man wasn't right in the head.

  It seemed everyone aboard was damaged in some way. Perhaps Thoster most of all.

  He made his way to where their prize slept. The captain's dog lay outside the cabin. Blackie let no one approach other than himself, Raidon, and Seren.

  He patted the dog on the head in return for a lick, then entered Anusha's cabin. It was the very room Japheth had hid the woman in during their first sea crossing. He chuckled to recall how the warlock hinted at gorgon hearts within to dissuade visitors. Thoster played along with the warlock's game because it was amusing to do so. At the time, he hadn't realized what was at stake.

  The captain looked down on the woman. She was gaunt and possibly ill. Some sort of enchantment kept her fed and limber, or she'd have died long before. But it was obviously no replacement for the real thing. Even Thoster could see that if she didn't wake and resume eating and moving soon, she'd die.

  "Your mind's trapped in the relic, eh?" Thoster said, his voice quiet.

  The relic. He shook his head. Most days, he tried not to think about it. It was too confusing, and it made his stomach sour. The Dreamheart had more than one claim on him, and until he had it in his own two hands, he'd decided not to choose which he'd satisfy.

  That wasn't something he'd advertised to Raidon.

  Thoster lowered himself onto the cot next to Anusha's open travel chest. She didn't move, save for her continual shallow breathing. The perfect listener.

  "The time to decide is nearly upon me, ain't it?" he asked her. "Maybe what I'll do about the relic does bear thinking on, just a bit, since I have your ear."

  The captain produced a pipe and a miniature coal urn from a pocket of his coat. He filled the bowl with a sweetsmelling pinch of tobacco and lit it with an ember. He thought better with a little smoke in the air.

  "So, here's where I stand, ghost. First,"-he ticked up one finger-"I told Behroun I'd retrieve the trinket for him. 'Course, that was before I knew what it was. Still, Behroun paid me a good sum, and apart from occasional piracy against merchantmen out of Amn, I count myself an honorable sort. Helps the reputation too." He chuckled.

  "Second,"-another finger joined the first-"I told Raidon I was done with Behroun and would help find the relic so we could smash it to flinders. I didn't say those words lightly. Well, not too lightly. I don't want to see monsters raised out of the Sea of Fallen Stars. What sane privateer would?

  "Lastly, and most importantly." A third finger. "What of my own need? For all my yarns about my misbegotten sire, I'm beginning to worry. If I claim the relic for myself, I might be able learn the truth about my… condition.

  Every year the changes grow worse."

  The captain pulled back one coat sleeve to reveal his left forearm. Half the skin had sloughed away, revealing glossy green scales no different from a fish's. It sickened him to look at it, yet he could hardly pull his gaze away. And this was not the largest patch afflicting him. All his self-deprecating jokes paled before the underlying truth.

  He'd long delighted in his ability to swim better than others and hold his breath for heart — stopping spans of time.

  That ability had saved him more than once.

  Things were different since he'd returned from the cursed isle where the great kraken laired. There, he'd been wet longer than dry. He'd been surrounded by those damned fishy kuo-toa, fighting them, killing them, being bled on by them… and that walking statue! When he saw it, something inside his head trembled, as if on the verge of making some kind of sense!

  Thoster blearily recalled falling to his knees in front of the rogue eidolon they'd fought, begging his allies to leave "her" alone. Madness! Why'd he done that?

  He couldn't remember. No, that wasn't entirely true. Something had been familiar about that damned shrine. He didn't want to think on it.

  The change in his flesh was accelerating. He worried that achieving full understanding might make the change come a
ll the quicker.

  "Look at it, will you?" he exclaimed, waving his scaled arm. "When will it stop? Am I becoming a fish-man… a kuo-toa mayhap? Or something with even less of a mind when all's said and done?"

  Anusha had no answers. Even were she awake, she couldn't know how he'd come to suffer his curse. It was something he'd not shown anyone else, though he suspected Nogah might have known somehow. He'd never asked her, and now she was dead, taking Thoster's secret with her.

  He allowed his coat sleeve to ride back down to his wrist, covering the unsightly blemish. He drew another breath from his pipe. The glow from its bowl glinted in his eyes.

  "The way everyone seems to go on about the Dreamheart's power… I wager I could use it to stave off what's ailing me. After that, well, sure, let Raidon break it into a thousand pieces." Thoster puffed, then said, " 'Course, that's rubbish-ill luck follows me like a cold wind. The monk's given up chasing the warlock and the Dreamheart. Now we're heading straight into the earth to where the relic was spit up."

  He shook his head.

  "Which means no one gets it. Behroun can take a long walk off a short pier, eh? Raidon's decided it don't matter anymore, thinks he's got bigger fish to hook. The drug-addled warlock already has it…"

  Thoster scratched his chin. "Aye, the warlock's had the orb for quite a spell. And in all that time, he ain't managed to wake you up, poor lass. Either his sorcery is too weak for the job… or your mind ain't actually trapped in it." He stirred the burning leaf shreds in his pipe bowl with a wood splinter.

  "Japheth ain't no slouch. I've seen what he's capable of. By now he'd have had you out of the stone if you were in it. Which means… you ain't!"

  "So where are you?"

  The pirate peered close at Anusha. Then his eyes widened.

  "I wonder… I have an idea where your mind's gone. And I'm but a simple man of the sea. If I can figure it, your cloaked protector with his fancy pact can do the same."

  The captain stood. He said, "Raidon tells us the relic is part of Xxiphu. I bet ten years' take your mind's drained down to the same place."

  He nodded to himself. "I could be whistling past the graveyard, but I bet we find Japheth and his orb when we reach our destination. Ha! Maybe I can borrow the Dreamheart from him then. He won't be expecting us, that's sure."

  Thoster inclined his head. "Rare's the person who listens so well without interruption. I might grow to like such a thoughtful companion."

  He studied the woman. Despite her sallow countenance, she was still pretty, though a sad sight too. He wondered if she'd live. It surprised him to discover he hoped she would.

  Thoster quit Anusha's cabin, leaving behind the scent of burned tobacco.

  *****

  Seren's jaw ached. She realized she was gritting her teeth.

  The wizard worked her mouth open and shut, imagining her muscles relaxing. She had to let go of the tension, or she would spoil the ritual.

  It wasn't that she was surprised bounty hunters yet sniffed after her trail. Others had tried to apprehend Seren over the last several years. A few she had killed in selfdefense, and the others had lost her trail. The last attempt had been four years earlier, well before she shipped out with Green Siren.

  And now Dhenna Shavres had let it be known to wizard takers everywhere that Seren was still alive and somewhere on the Sea of Fallen Stars. Why had she trusted that woman? She hoped Morgenthel refused to pay Rose Keep's finder's fee, having failed to capture his quarry.

  Not much she could do about that now. Just continue with her own plan, slipshod as it was.

  If she could gather enough gold, perhaps the regent would rescind her death warrant…

  Part of her knew the undertaking was probably foolish. Szass Tam wasn't known for giving second chances to his foes. Her only hope was that the regent didn't actually consider Seren an enemy or, better yet, even know her name-she was far too insignificant! It was probably a sycophant or lower-level functionary who had put the price on Seren's head. If she could pay that off, plus a hefty bribe on top of the value of the lost treasury, then she might just purchase her life back.

  And if she wanted it, perhaps her rightful place in the power structure of Thay…

  The hairs on her arms prickled as if a phantom breezed past. Her throat grew tight with apprehension.

  There would be opportunity to worry about that later. Now it was time to concentrate on the job at hand.

  Seren took a deep breath, expelled it, and began the rite.

  She chanted the first stanza of the ritual, mouthing harsh fragments of ancient tongues fused with arcane syllables. Normally she didn't have to understand what she said to perform a ritual penned on a scroll. She just followed the directions provided, no matter how obscure or even obtuse.

  This would not be that simple. She repeated the previous stanza with a variation penned in glittering green ink. Her biggest obstacle was the mere fact she'd relearned her entire craft over the last ten years. When the blue fires winked on the horizon, they'd stolen away more than the treasury of Raven's Bluff, they'd also pilfered all her arcane achievements.

  Seren began the second stanza, recalling how she'd learned magic anew. Because of her relative youth compared to many established in Mystra's graces, the way of the Weave didn't have too strong a hold over her.

  Moreover, before the disaster, many had called her a prodigy. Only a few years beyond her twentieth and she'd already been an up-and-coming Red Wizard. They used to tell stories about her uncanny knack in forging new spells. Everyone expected she'd go far.

  After the disaster, Seren had a stark choice. She could abandon the art she'd worked so hard to master, and give in to Thay*s wrath, or she could fight back.

  While most wizards bemoaned their loss, she found an abandoned laboratory. She didn't give up.

  And she'd been rewarded. Arcane mastery was still possible. It merely required a new way of accessing the eldritch currents that yet flowed through the world and beyond.

  Morgenthel had nearly ruined it all with his surprise attack.

  Seren stuttered as she moved on to the third stanza of the ritual, this one inscribed in ash. She nearly lost control-

  A vision of gleaming teeth and claws slashed through her concentration. A creature of savage hunger and chaos!

  It bounded toward her, loosing a horrid croak. She cried out.

  The image dissolved as quickly as it had formed, only a delusion pulled from the wavering threads of a ritual bent far past its purpose.

  Feeling guilty, she wrenched her thoughts for the second time to the rite. If she didn't contemplate the changes she intended, she'd fail. Perhaps spectacularly.

  An unaltered performance of the ritual would call a minor dust devil and send it with a message to a distant friend. That was not what she wanted.

  She adapted and shaped the ritual even as she performed it, twisting it further and further from its original aim.

  The addition of a gleamtail jack as a ritual component was only the first step, though a step on which all the later adaptations depended.

  The incantation and physical components were the framework. To it she applied the lever of her will. Her awareness of the ship and the hard planking beneath her sandaled feet dissolved.

  Instead of on the ship, it seemed she stood on a savanna of rough stone. A river of lightning cut the plain, blazing white and erratic. Beyond a ridge of basalt raged a lava sea spouting coils of flame. Above her stretched unending volumes of air whose utmost distances were hazed with smoke and mist. Here and there, shells of cloud parted and lances of fiery light blazed forth, emanating from free-floating balls of fire. Like miniature suns, they whirled through the elemental maelstrom.

  Seren knew she remained on the deck of Green Siren despite the overwhelming evidence of her eyes, she could still smell the salty sea air and feel the rocking ship's sway. She concentrated on the tiny gleamtail she'd placed at the center of the summoning circle, focusing the power of the ri
tual through it. Her vision of the tempestuous realm spun and plunged forward as if it were an image contained in a server's crystal sphere.

  And there it was-an undulating mass of living gleamtail jacks schooling through shoals of water, stone, air, and fire. From a distance, they looked like ordinary fish-except for the way they swam as easily through air and solid rock, when they chanced upon it, as through liquid.

  Colorful boulders studded the ground beneath the school. Their angular shapes tugged at Seren's attention, but she was impatient to complete her ritual, there was no time for sightseeing.

  The wizard began the final stanza of the ceremony. She would draw the entire school through to her and magically moor them to Green Siren. They wouldn't survive more than a tenday outside their natural environment, but that would be enough.

  Like stars coming out one by one after dusk, points of light appeared around the hull. The gleamtail jacks each harbored a tiny jewel-like glow. The constellation of winking gleams wheeled around the ship, hinting at paths to previously unreachable locations in every glimmer.

  Seren finished the closing stanza. When the last syllable resonated in the air, her vision of the echo plane faded.

  But not quickly enough. The colorful stones on the edge of the shoal sprang up, revealing themselves as creatures, not scenery. Each left a wake in the air from its surprising acceleration. Some had spears, but all had claws and wide, rubbery mouths generous with teeth.

  She blinked, and the echo plane was gone. Green Siren and the Sea of Fallen Stars filled her senses. The ship had gained a school of glittering stars as an escort… and something else. A tug on her mind signaled that the protective circle was breached! Seren gulped and tried to call out a warning, but her throat was dry from chanting. Nothing emerged but a hoarse whisper.