Obviously Cadorna hadn't lied about the ancestry of the gnoll leader. Ren had never seen such a creature. The chieftain had the ungainly height of a gnoll, coupled with the bulk of a brawny human. Ren might well have mistaken him for a giant, were it not for his face. A man's nose protruded like a wart from a hyena snout, and pink human lips framed slavering canine teeth. But it was the eyes that were most terrible of all. They were unnaturally large, wide-rimmed and wide-set like a gnoll's, but they bore the searing intelligence of a human being-a sick, crazed human being. The creature bore a monstrous double-edged sword and a long, sharp dagger.
"Human slug! Don't think for one minute you can run from me!"
The creature's speech was thick and difficult to understand. Obviously its distorted mouth could barely produce the sounds of the human language. Ren stopped immediately, brandished his own short sword, and issued a challenge of his own.
"Half-breed vermin! Don't you think for one minute you can stop me!"
"So it's a fight you want, is it, worm?"
"Aye," said Ren. "A fight it is. One on one. To the death."
A ring of gnolls had started to close in around Ren, but the chieftain waved them back. From every building, gnolls swarmed to the center of the courtyard, and it was only the threatening glances of their leader that kept them from pressing in and crushing the duelers.
In moments, not a single gnoll remained to block Shal and Tarl's path, but instead of fleeing, they remained motionless, watching horror-struck as the strange duel unfolded. They watched as the huge gnoll-man landed a devastating blow square on Ren's head with the flat of its sword.
"Gods and demigods! I've seen enough!" Shal shouted in a voice that could be heard even over the tumult. With a piercing mental command, she spurred Cerulean into the midst of the mob. Without a moment's hesitation, she leveled her staff at the half-gnoll chieftain, intoned three syllables, and watched as a bolt of lightning blasted straight through the creature, sending it flying across the compound. When the horrified gnolls turned in unison toward her and Tarl and started to charge, she leveled the staff again and blasted away unmercifully. Fireballs and lightning ripped through the hordes of gangling hyena-faced creatures, and their squeals and shrieks of pain blotted out all other sound. Only the few who were fortunate enough to be near Ren were spared.
As soon as Ren recovered from the blow to his head and the shock of seeing his opponent jolted across the courtyard, he fled toward the compound gate, afraid of being consumed in the flames that were exploding everywhere. Quickly he mounted the terrified mare that stood waiting and spurred her away from the burning encampment at a gallop.
When she was sure Ren was safe, Shal spurred Cerulean around and charged out the gate after him. Tarl clasped her waist tightly, marveling at the uncharacteristic fury of his companion. In minutes, the huge magical steed had caught up with Ren.
When they reached his side, Shal reined to a stop. Behind them, there was no sign of any pursuit.
"What in the Abyss did you do that for?" Ren's face was crimson with rage.
Neither Shal nor Tarl had ever seen Ren so angry. Shal responded with an anger of her own. "That ugly thing was clobbering you back there! You would've been killed if I hadn't done something!"
"But it was a duel of honor!"
"Honor? What good is your honor if you're dead? Don't you understand?" she cried. "He would've killed you! I'd seen enough for one day. I suppose it was also honor when you went off on that rampage over the damn garden and killed those four innocent gnolls without batting an eye!"
"Innocent? You call them innocent? Don't you remember you nearly puked when you saw that corpse in the temple?"
"Okay, so they weren't innocent. But they hadn't done squat to us. And our goal was only to get the treasure and get out safely, not to see how many gnolls we could kill!"
Ren's face reddened as he blurted, "And who was it who wiped that place free of gnolls, anyhow? It sure as Tymora wasn't me!"
"Okay, so I got carried away. But I've never been so disgusted by anything in my whole life. All day it was building up in me-what with the trash, the stench, that poor soul in the temple, the blood in those chalices, the snake symbols, and that filthy creature fighting you in the courtyard. By the-"
The adrenaline that had carried Ren through the bloody battle in the courtyard suddenly gave out. Pain and loss of blood took over, and the big man dropped limply from his horse in a cold faint.
Shal and Tarl were at Ren's side in seconds. There was an ugly gash in his head, and his hand hung limp and useless. Shal immediately applied pressure to his wrist to slow the bleeding, and Tarl held his hand on Ren's head and prayed. In moments, severed capillaries fused shut and the bleeding stopped. Tissue stretched over crushed bone and melded with other tissue until the wound was no longer life-threatening, but the severity of Ren's wounds was such that Tarl could not hope to heal them completely. It would take a cleric with the acquired skills of Brother Sontag to fully mend such an injury. But Tarl could help. He could make him more comfortable and cure some of the worst of the damage. In a few minutes, Ren regained consciousness.
The argument of a few moments ago was completely forgotten as the three shared their concern for each other's physical well-being. Shal and Tarl insisted that Ren take time to soak his hand before they attempted to move on. it wasn't until the sun was low in the sky and darkness was creeping over Uncivilized Phlan that Ren convinced them that he was ready for the ride back.
All had had enough trouble for one day, and the gate to a city never looked so good as it did that evening. As they waited outside the gate, Tarl was the first to spot the cynical guard they had spoken to on the way out. He started to smile when he saw the guard ride out from behind the open gate accompanied by a young watchman. When they drew near, the guard raised his sword and pronounced, "You're under arrest."
Tarl stopped smiling as the guard jabbed the point of his sword into his ribs and ordered all three of them to come with him.
"What the-" Ren spluttered, his anger quick to surface again.
"Under arrest for what?" Shal blurted out. "By whose orders?"
"For unauthorized travel in the ruins," responded the other guard. "By authority of Fourth Councilman Cadorna."
"Fourth Councilman Cadorna!" It was Tarl's turn to be angry. "Our mission was under his auspices! It was he who sent us out here!"
"We're just followin' orders," said the first guard. "Frankly, if'n I were you, I'd be tickled to make it out of the uncivilized portion of the city alive. Matter of fact, I think we discussed that this mornin', didn't we? You were a might cocky, as I recall it. Seems that the Fourth Councilman suspects you might have borrowed some things that weren't yours."
Ren's face was crimson with anger. "That's ridic-"
The younger guard jabbed him hard with the point of his sword. "Enough! Come with us!"
When they reached the council building, the younger guard once again began barking orders. "Get off your horses. Move over against those tables there. Open your packs, your pouches; empty your pockets, your shoes. Everything on the table. Separate out the treasure that belongs to the Fourth Councilman."
With a word, Shal protected her magical items from tampering. She then discreetly removed the vase from the Cloth of Many Pockets and was waiting for an opportunity to remove the armor unseen when Ren caught her eye. He barely moved his head, but she knew what he meant: "Don't take it out."
At the same time, with the dexterity of a polished street magician, Ren slipped the two ioun stones from the hilts of Right and Left and into the chameleon gauntlet on his right hand. As Shal began unhitching the heavy belt she wore at her waist, Ren sidled up to her and said, "Here, sweetheart. Let me help you with that."
The older guard chortled at the big man's forwardness, and Shal blushed even as she realized that Ren was pressing something into her waistband.
With one hand, she made a point of pressing Ren away, while with the othe
r, she appeared to be holding fast to the belt he had offered to help her remove. "I'll get it myself, thank you!" she said tartly. The paper-thin gauntlet Ren had slipped her remained unseen inside one of her big hands, and as she fumbled with the buckle, she was able to press the gauntlet-and the ioun stones inside it-into the Cloth of Many Pockets for safekeeping.
From the shadows of a doorway, Gensor watched the two companions. He suspected that something, physical or verbal, had passed between them, but he hadn't actually seen anything.
Tarl bridled at Ren, no more aware than the guard of what was really transpiring between the two. With angry deliberateness, not uttering a word, he slapped down his hammer, his shield, his armor, and the treasure of the textile house without so much as a word. But when the young guard insisted he remove his sacred medallion, he said coldly, "You'll have to kill me first."
"Come now, there'll be no need for that." Cadorna strolled into the courtyard. His gray eyes were glued to the gold bullion Ren had just removed from his pack.
"What do you mean by having us arrested for doing your bidding?" Shal turned on Cadorna with a look not unlike the one she'd given the gnolls at the textile house before blasting them to dust.
"No need to be so testy, young woman," Cadorna replied smoothly. "Obviously these fine guards misunderstood my intent. I wanted them only to escort you here safely so that no one would have the opportunity to rob you of your treasure."
" 'No one' meaning us?" Ren asked pointedly.
"Naturally I wanted to see everything you brought back with you."
"Are you reneging on your promise to give a percentage of the treasure to the Tyrian temple?" asked Tarl.
"Why, Brother Tarl! I'm offended that you would suggest such a thing. In fact, I just wanted to be sure your partners were honest in providing all the treasure so the temple would be sure to get its fair share."
"I trust my friends," said Tarl.
"I trust no one," retorted Cadorna, his face growing cold. After examining everything carefully, the councilman assembled the treasure into one pile. A crooked, toothy smile pasted on his face, he handed a single gold brick and the coral and ivory brooch to Tarl. "For the temple. Quite generous, don't you think?"
Tarl clenched his teeth but nodded reluctantly. The portion was nowhere near fifteen percent of the treasure, but he knew he would receive no more and that the temple could do worse than inherit a gold brick and an emerald brooch.
"You're free to go now," Cadorna said finally. "I do thank you all. You will help me out again if I need it, won't you?"
9
Assassination Weather
All of Phlan and the entire Moonsea was awash in the tumult of a terrific thunderstorm. Lightning ripped through the sky in every direction, and deafening thunder reverberated for tens of miles. A person versed in weather and the natural pattern of things might have noticed that the lightning was almost perverse in its configuration, bolting upward and outward from one point and shattering the sky in an unnatural purple brilliance, but most people were undoubtedly more than content to huddle in their homes, hoping they were out of reach of what the next day they surely would refer to as "a demon storm."
Not far from the heart of the storm, at the northeastern edge of the ruins of Phlan, stood Valjevo Castle, a structure that even in its present decrepit state dwarfed the ruins that abutted it. Awe-inspiring despite its fallen walls and toppled turrets, the castle must once have been one of the largest in the Realms. No doubt fantastic works of magic had been required to move the gargantuan slabs of marble and granite used in its construction. Those few who had seen the castle since the Dragon Run were amazed that the dragons had been able to raze even portions of its great walls, and in fact, much of the castle and the fortress around it was still intact.
Despite damage to parts of its structure, the castle stood several stories by any measurement and remained among the tallest buildings in the Realms. Its toppled turrets must once have reached one hundred feet or more. Now, almost that far beneath the castle, the great bronze dragon shifted in its resting place in the curve of the Pool of Radiance.
"Shall I have no peace?" The beast's voice boomed and echoed against the golden walls of the cave. "The ground shudders with magic that is not my own, power that is not mine! What say you, Quarrel? Where are my ioun stones?"
A curious figure, lying prostrate before the dragon, lifted its head. Shimmering black hair parted to reveal the face of a half-orc woman. But for her piglike snout, she could have passed for human. Her eyes, mouth, and facial contours were flawless. Were it not for the blight at the center of her face, she might have been called attractive, even pretty. She stood to speak, flipping a charcoal-colored cape over her shoulders to reveal body-contouring chain mail and leathers that accentuated her lean, muscular, human form. Her voice was throaty. It had long ago lost its timbre, sounding now as if she had tossed back too many shots of hard liquor. "They're not in Surd nor indeed in any part of Sembia. My assassin troops and I tortured and killed any who might have knowledge of the whereabouts of an ioun stone."
"And you found nothing? Two weeks gone from these parts, and you brought back nothing?"
"I didn't say that, master. I said I brought back no ioun stones. Blood ran freely for you and orc slaves carried it back to your temples." The black-haired assassin gestured to a shimmering mound in front of the dragon. "Treasure such as few have dreamed of lies at your feet. And, as I said, you can rest assured that there are no ioun stones in any corner of Sembia." She paused and let her cold, black eyes be mesmerized by the dragon's blazing gold ones. "I am ready for my next assignment."
The dragon switched its giant tail into the pool.
"Yesssss…" It hissed warmly as energy channeled from blood spilled in a dozen temples surged through the golden water, charging the beast with its power. "So you are, Quarrel." The dragon shifted once more, lowering itself deeper into the burbling waters. The great wyrm grunted its satisfaction as the water's powers continued to invigorate its lifeblood. "Three wretched humans have destroyed one of my temples, in the process slaughtering most of an entire gnoll encampment. Still another part of my city has been taken over by human scum because of their cursed interference. They are the same three I spoke to you of before."
Quarrel nodded, remembering her master's fury after the party recovered Sokol Keep for Civilized Phlan. When she returned, she had expected to hear of the party's demise at the hands of any of the thousands of creatures in the service of the Lord of the Ruins. Certainly none within range of his tremendous power had missed the message to kill the three on sight.
"Yes, they still live," the dragon snarled, as if reading Quarrel's mind. "Cowards faced them and died at their hands. Now I'm trusting you, Quarrel, to either convert them to our cause-my cause-or kill them like worms. Unlike most of the creatures I control, you can pass freely into the civilized part of the city…"
Quarrel clenched and unclenched her hand around the hilt of her favorite dagger. The Lord of the Ruins would never know how many had died because they harassed her or made some unflattering reference to her nose.
"You have all of my resources at your disposal," the huge dragon went on. "With two more ioun stones, I will be able to complete the figure of power." Slowly the giant creature reached up and put a taloned appendage on the hexagon that already held an ioun stone in four of its six corners. "When these two last holes are filled, I will be able to control elves, dwarves, even humans. But in the meantime, you must learn what motivates those three. Promise them anything, but get them working for me-or bring me their miserable flesh and blood, and let it fill my pool. If you succeed, your reward will be-"
Quarrel's black eyes gleamed with a fresh intensity. "I already know the generosity of your rewards, master. And you also know the reward for which I work most anxiously."
"Yes… Yes, Quarrel, I know."
The moment she successfully completed the bidding of the Lord of the Ruins, Quarrel would receiv
e the one thing murder and looting could never get her-a human nose, a small triangular-shaped nose that would not snuffle when she intended to be silent, that would not be an object of harassment and derision, that would not identify her as a half-breed… an object of contempt.
The great bronze dragon enjoyed the surging warmth of the energy-giving pool for a few more glorious minutes after Quarrel departed. The giant amphibious body of the dragon was an impressive one-strong, vital, and impervious to most attacks, an excellent choice for possession by Tyranthraxus, the Great Possessor.
For more than a millennium, the dark-minded entity of Tyranthraxus had dwelled on the material plane. For more than a thousand years, Tyranthraxus had been hampered by the nuisance of mortality, forced to control the weakest or the most corrupt mind he could find and then to function within the confines of that creature's physical resources, however limited. He had at times been forced to possess even creatures as mean as lizards and squirrels just to survive. Inevitably he drove their pathetic, inhibiting bodies to the breaking point as he searched frantically for a new vessel to contain his essence. He had possessed humans by the score, men and women overrun by such overwhelming greed that their minds had lost the capacity to reject his usurping presence. He preferred humans because they made his record-keeping so much easier. Since humans were themselves gifted with a capacity for language, maintaining accounts of his subversion and conquests was easier for Tyranthraxus when he inhabited a human body.
But the dragon had been a good choice. Its mind had been subverted by a powerful wizard's Mind Control spell at the time when Tyranthraxus had last been forced to leap to another host. The Great Possessor now found himself mental companion to a mind that, unlike most on this plain, had withstood centuries of life, a mind that had, over the years, acquired a tremendous capacity for magic. Tyranthraxus was, of course, obligated to keep pushing back the beast's lawful good tendencies, and he was forced to cope with physical features that made writing difficult. But the ability to intimidate with a dragon's body was a tremendous advantage. Then, too, the dragon had led him to the pool…
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