by Paul S. Kemp
Weasel drew in a deep breath-nice, not to be sneezing-and shatter-shouted. The Beast whirled, a stricken look in his eyes-then exploded.
Weasel didn't mind when the explosion slammed him to the ground. Nor did he mind the ringing in his ears. He didn't even mind the blood running from his nose-it wasn't half as bad as being plugged up from pollen, nohow.
He stepped to the edge of the crater where The Beast had been, and tsk-tsked at the tooth-and-claw necklace that had somehow survived.
"You really ought to be more careful about what you eat."
Then, before Malar's clerics or the orcworts could return, he sprinted away.
The Year of the Tankard (1370 DR)
The halfling drained his ale and set it aside, then leaned back against the mahogany tree. "And that's how it happened," he told the younglings. "How The Beast was defeated, by Kaldair in the form of a spriggan."
The younglings looked up at the storyteller with wide eyes. "Is it true?"
The storyteller shrugged. "What do you think?" He waved a hand at the athletic contests taking place in the sun-dappled field a few paces away. "To this day, the hin of the Luiren compete in the stone toss, the obstacle course. . even our Weasel in the Hole game comes from this tale."
The younglings murmured together excitedly. "Could it be true? A spriggan?"
The storyteller waved a hand, shooing them away. "Off with you, now. I need my nap."
As they departed, he leaned back against the tree. "Younglings," he chuckled. "They'll believe anything." He drifted off into contented slumber.
As he slept, a twig-shaped hand gently stroked a lock of hair that hung against the storyteller's temple. A lock of hair tied with a ribbon-one of the peculiarities of fashion observed by the halflings of the Luiren.
"It's true," her leaves whispered. She sighed as she looked out over the cultivated fields of the Strongheart and Lightfoot-the fields that had once been thick jungle. "It's true."
THE LAST PALADIN OF ILMATER
Susan J. Morris
27 Eleint, The Year of Queen's Tears (902 DR)
The Chondalwood
"How dare he," Maze said.
Jaeriko struggled to keep up with the angry woman as she tromped through the tangled under shy;growth of the Chondalwood. It was obvious Maze had little regard or skill for the ways of the forest. If she had possessed even a modicum of respect, she wouldn't have been making such a racket. Predators and worse for miles around must have cocked an ear to the woman's infernal crashing. Not that such attention would vex Maze any-Jaeriko imagined the fierce woman would welcome the chance to wet her blades on anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path.
Jaeriko, in contrast, was uncannily adept-walking solely on roots and rocks, and making as little sound as a ripple moving through still waters.
What was more, the vines, grass, and leaves curled and popped back into place after their every step, at her bidding. Perhaps that was why the General of Reth had sent her along on a task that-on the surface-she seemed exceptionally ill-suited for: to cover the dark, scowling woman's tracks as she stormed toward their mutual goal.
Jaeriko shook her head at a particularly virulent curse that escaped the unhappy woman's mouth. She didn't even need eyes to follow the path Maze cut-following the stream of invectives was simple enough. And though it brought her some small delight to see her own proficiency by the light of her companion's deficit, she would have strongly preferred their trip pass in silence. After all, the forest they walked was far from welcoming.
Even for someone as in touch with nature as she, the thick, choking trees and hard-packed earth studded with harder stones made for slow and uncomfortable travel. Moss dripped like blood from every sharp-fingered twig, mush shy;rooms spangled the trees like spent arrows, and vines and branches wove themselves with almost human intent into the path of the two travelers, tripping and cutting whenever they could. To make matters worse, a veil of moon-bright ash hung in the air like a cloud of spores, riding in on every breath and obscuring the dark shapes of the firs and oaks until the travelers stumbled nose-first upon them.
Jaeriko's eyes were sore from squinting through the perpetual haze, her lungs ragged from breathing in the fire-choked air, and her skin dusty as a moth's wing. To Maze, it must have meant the world had declared war.
"Sending an assassin to do a thief's job," Maze muttered in a rare stretch of language unbroken by profanity.
"A. . what?" Jaeriko said, standing like a startled fawn. Maze backhanded a branch that crossed her path, and Jaeriko ducked just in time to see it hiss back into place. Maze looked back over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow at the flustered druid.
"An assassin. What, you just now figure that out?" Maze said. "Yes, I kill people for money." Maze faced forward again, missing Jaeriko's stricken expression. "You helped me, when I paid for your services. Does that bother you?"
Jaeriko wasn't sure it didn't, but she was too shocked by her former client's lack of trust to contemplate it. "You could have told me!" she protested.
"You didn't need to know," Maze said.
"Your partner 'didn't need to know'?" Jaeriko said, but the pieces fell into place. The dark alley, the herb garden, the smell of almonds. The spells of stealth and speed, the exotic collection of weaponry, the extra coin for discretion. She told herself she had never known what the jobs were for, but she had never asked either.
"You're not my partner!" Maze said, interrupting her thoughts. "And what the Hells did you think I did, anyway?"
"I thought you were a thief," Jaeriko said.
"And you were all right with that?" Maze said.
Jaeriko shrugged. "People have too much stuff anyway."
Maze laughed, and though the sound was pitched high with frustration, it was the first sign of amusement she'd seen from the dour woman. Just when Jaeriko was about to take advantage of the unexpected levity, Maze tripped on a root and had to swing her arms out to avoid falling. "Gods damn him! I hate forests, I hate children, and I hate everything to do with this blasted war-particularly the undead. By the Nine, who does he think I am?"
"Isn't the question normally 'Who does he think he is'?" Jaeriko asked. Maze glared at her and Jaeriko felt a surge of compassion for the angry assassin. Who could blame her for her angst? Maze hadn't asked for this job. She hadn't asked to be assaulted in her home or to be forced into service at sword point. It was good coin, but it was still unasked for.
"I know who he is," Maze muttered.
It was just, the general's sword had moved so fast. Jaeriko couldn't have stopped it had it crossed her mind to do so. One moment Maze was telling the General of Reth what he could do with his job; the next, her friend's body was bleeding on the kitchen floor, lying in a pool of blood and chicken soup.
"The coin I'm paying for this job is more than enough to cover your friend's resurrection," the general had said. "Just bring me the boy."
There had been no further arguments.
Dead blue eyes darkened to brown as she refocused on Maze. Then a branch snapped back into place and Maze continued on her way, the errant limb smacking Jaeriko across the face. That was going to leave a welt. She rubbed at her skin and felt the gummy sap work its way farther into the rising abrasion. Great-she didn't have time to clean it now, so she'd have to let it go until morning-until after the job. By then, it would be nice and sore.
"Why doesn't he just do it himself? He's obviously powerful enough," Jaeriko asked, rubbing at the rising bump on her cheek. Maze's scorn burned more than the welt, and she dropped her hand.
"If you'd asked that question yourself before you invited him into my home, we might not be in this mess," Maze snapped. When Jaeriko colored but did not rise to the bait, Maze sighed. "Do you know what they say about the good General of Reth, our beloved patron? They say he's more like the devils of Arrabar than us … Turned for some reason known only to him, and liable to turn back again just as soon as he gets what he wants." Maze turned back to t
he path and continued walking, but her assaults on the flora were half shy;hearted at best.
"Then why did we accept his help-why are we helping him now?"
Maze shrugged. "Who am I to question when one devil wants to kill another?"
"You're a strange woman," Jaeriko said.
"No, Druid-you're the strange one. Most people are running as fast as they can from the war. All of our best soldiers are dead, or in the case of Arrabar, dishonorably raised to kill and die again. The streets of formerly great cities are littered with corpses, victims of a war-spawned plague that kills indiscriminately. Poor divided Chondath is disintegrating under her own sickening mass. Most people want to get as far away from this catastrophe as possible, but you-you're heading down into its bloody heart to kidnap a diseased boy from his deranged father. And you're pulling me with you."
Jaeriko shrugged. "Some things are worth fighting for. With the General of Arrabar raising the fallen to fight again, Reth might never win her freedom. And if we have a chance to stop him-even at the cost of our own lives-we have a responsibility to try. This could end the war."
Maze groaned. "So could killing the bastard."
Jaeriko couldn't argue with that-or wouldn't, with a self-professed assassin. Though she thought killing the General of Arrabar might be just a little harder than all that. Maze fixed her with a glare.
"So how far to this river of yours?" Maze asked. "Let's get this over with." Jaeriko nearly took a mouth full of fir.
"I thought you were leading the way!" she protested, wincing at the wail that found its way into her voice. Maze's glare hardened but then cracked under the weight of her smirk.
"I am," Maze said. "It's a joke. Ha. See? I can be funny too.
Jaeriko was flooded with equal parts relief and irritation.
"That is not funny!" she insisted.
"Anyway, we're here," Maze said, sitting down on a fallen, moss-riddled tree.
With Maze's body out of the way, Jaeriko could see the river. While the waters might be raging farther north, by this point the river was silent and strong, pulling the whole water shy;course deep underground. That was no excuse for her not hearing it in advance of almost stumbling upon it, but she'd give herself the very real distraction of trying to calm an irate assassin as reason enough.
"Your turn, Druid."
Jaeriko walked over to the water. It worried her to place so much stock in the word of a man who had tricked her into leading him to Maze's house so that he could force them both into his employment, but she had little else to go on. The general told them that this river fed the cistern in the ruined citadel the General of Arrabar had holed up in. Provided he was right, a simple spell and an uncomfortable, wet time later and they should find themselves both within the citadel and undetected. Getting out undetected with the boy in tow would prove more difficult-but they'd tackle that problem when they came to it.
Reaching inside her doeskin jerkin, Jaeriko pulled out a locket. Reverently, she kissed it; the gold was cool against her lips. Then her fingers worked the catch, and it sprang open to reveal a sprig of mistletoe-her conduit to the spirits of nature. She spun the green sprig between her fingers.
"This will not be pleasant," Jaeriko warned Maze.
"Get on with it," Maze said. It was not as though they had a choice.
"Get in the water."
Maze complied, twisting her face as the water seeped under her leather. She ducked her head under the water and came back up gasping with cold.
"Keep your eyes closed and your limbs close until you feel air on your skin," the druid instructed. "The river's bargain allows you to breathe underwater, but it doesn't protect you from the dangers of underground water travel."
"Right, right," Maze said, but her teeth were already chattering.
"See you on the other side," Jaeriko said. Rubbing the mistletoe between her fingers, Jaeriko closed her eyes. Sister River, listen to me. . Words ripped through her and off her tongue like lightning, burning away the instant her mind touched them. A loud, rushing, siren song filled her ears, and the smell of salt filled her nostrils-then all was quiet. She opened her eyes to see five red gashes open on each side of Maze's neck like cuts from a tiger's claws. The woman fell into the water, the red gashes fluttered open and closed, and bubbles of air escaped Maze's nose. Jaeriko held her breath for Maze as the woman waved, then let the powerful undertow sweep her away.
Moments later, Jaeriko joined her.
Air washed across Jaeriko's face and she gulped in breath blindly. Searching for something to hold onto, her fingers swept up and closed around something slick and unforgiving. She opened her eyes-bars. The cistern had a grate covering its mouth, and the bars were encrusted with slime. The water was damn cold. Goose bumps rose along her exposed skin as the wind swept across again, raising a low moan from both her and the cistern. Already Jaeriko's arms ached from cold and forced use.
She heard a splash and a gasp and saw two eyes blink back at her in the darkness. Maze.
"Holy Hells," Maze panted. "I never want to have to do that again." A frown furrowed the woman's brow, and her fingers searched along the bars. "Gods be damned. I could deal with a lock, but there isn't even a door. What in the Nine Hells am I supposed to do with this?" She grabbed the grate in both hands and shook it angrily. It didn't budge.
"Shhh!" Jaeriko said. "They'll hear you!" The last thing she wanted to see was a ghoul's ghastly, flesh-torn face glaring at them from the other side of that grate. She could well imagine the spears and arrows that would follow.
"Bring them on," Maze whispered, but then she gritted her teeth and held her tongue.
Jaeriko breathed out a sigh of relief. It was hard enough to think with the icy water muddying her thoughts-trying to come up with any sort of way out with an irate assassin screaming in her ear was too much. Her fingers traveled automatically to the locket at her neck. Fire of the heavens, what was she to do now?
Jaeriko's eyes traveled the breadth of the grate. The whole contraption was essentially a stone opening to an underground river that had a grate tacked over it, probably to prevent intrepid intruders such as themselves from entering. There had been little to no modification to the natural stone at all, in fact … The fingers of her free hand traced the unworked stone as the other hand held the grate. A wild thought took root in her head, and she prayed it wasn't the cold speaking.
"Maze, hold me up," Jaeriko demanded.
"What?"
"Just do it." What felt like a band of iron wrapped around her waist, and Jaeriko felt Maze's breath against the shell of her ear.
"Hurry-I can't hold you for long."
Furrowing her brow, Jaeriko clasped one hand to her locket. She brought it to her lips. She didn't dare open it over the water-she hoped she didn't need that strength. Fear ran through her mind scattering her thoughts. The cold was ruining her concentration. With her free hand, she massaged their prisons stone circumference. Father stone, wake up, she thought, please listen. Stone was not her first choice of a medium. It was hard to read, harder to please, and the hardest to keep lip a conversation with.
Just as she thought the stone would never answer, just as she felt Maze's arms weaken around her waist and saw the assassin's head begin to loll, she felt the fire of the stone's answer tear through her. Her fingers pushed through the stone and pulled a dollop of it away to rub between her fingers like clay. She shuddered with relief, and hit Maze's shoulders with her palms. "Let me down! All we have to do is push the grate up-it should move easily, at least for now."
Maze fixed her with an appraising glance. "You're more useful than you let on."
Jaeriko was unable to fully appreciate Maze's comment as her body quavered and shook. It was as though all of her heat had been consumed in that one spell.
"Just get us out of here," Jaeriko managed, her teeth chattering and clashing on every syllable. Maze nodded and let the water close over her head as she sank to the bottom of the cistern. Then, with a
powerful push of her legs, Maze slammed out of the water and into the grate. It resisted initially but then pulled free of the softened stone with a wet pop. Hand-over-hand, Maze pushed the grate to one side of the cistern.
Pumping her legs, Jaeriko pushed herself up to the opening of the cistern and dug her fingers into the clay. She felt the water rush by her legs as Maze did the same. With agonizing slowness, she pulled herself up just enough to see where they had landed themselves.
A single light smoldered like a fallen star stuck in a white fang of a tower. It struck her as strange-how were the general's soldiers to stand guard with so little illumination? Then her eyes adjusted, and she saw the broken and malformed shapes that hunched like gargoyles along the walls. The undead required no light-nor sustenance other than that which can be garnered from a battlefield. They were the perfect soldiers.
A hiss of breath stirred the hair on the back of Jaeriko's neck; then a hand pushed her under the icy water. She heard the clang of metal on stone as the grate was shoved back in place-or almost back in place. Kicking and pulling at the hand tangled in her hair, Jaeriko struggled to catch sight of her attacker. Dark eyes met hers with a warning, and she stopped fighting. The hand let go of her hair and together, Maze and Jaeriko looked up through the distortion of the water.
A pale shape skittered forward, its limbs moving with unnatural speed and a total absence of grace. When it came to the grate it jerked to a halt and stood as still as stone. Lungs burning, Jaeriko began to panic. If she couldn't get to the surface soon, she would not live long enough to be killed. Just as it seemed the creature would never move again, it shuddered, and its head snapped in their direction.
Jaeriko bit back a gasp. The flesh had rotted on the left side of its face, baring white jaws and missing teeth. A rip in the skin under its eye socket shone like a red tear over which stared dispassionate eyes the color of old milk. It stood stiller than life above the grate, its old armor hanging off it like fat off a bone, looking-expressionless-at them. If it had been alive, Jaeriko would have sworn it had seen them and that their death would shortly follow, but after another lung-searing moment it took off in the same swift, broken gait as before.