by David Gross
A blast of foul breath struck Sharessa in the face. She struggled to free her arm, but the fiendish hand bound her fast as steel. It twisted her wrist so hard that she gasped and dropped the sword.
She struck out with her other fist, but a bony manacle clasped that one too. Belmer appeared beside her, his long blade thrusting at the thing that held her.
"Damn!" he cursed, stabbing again and again. "I can't pierce its hide." He slashed and thrust, and each time his blade turned away.
All the while, the powerful claws squeezed Sharessa's wrists harder. Her mouth opened to scream, and she felt a hot spray of blood upon her face. The manacles opened.
"Ha!" cried Brindra from Sharessa's side. She struck again above Sharessa's head, but the thing was already moving. More ichor rained down on Sharessa's face. The rotten stench of it made her retch.
"I hurt it!" cried Brindra gleefully.
"Kill it!" shouted Belmer. Together, they followed the sound of the fiend's escape. After a few steps, they stopped to listen again. The trees rustled to their left.
"Where?" cried Anvil.
"Between here and the river," shouted Belmer. "Open the lantern!"
The trees shook again, this time to the north. Sharessa reached for her fallen sword, groping in the darkness. Her trembling hands found roots, weeds, then bare ground. Finally they touched her cutlass. She held it up again at the trees, feeling only slightly safer.
Light spilled out near the edge of the ravine.
Anvil held the lantern high, looking up into the trees. Beside him, two sailors crouched with their cutlasses ready, frightened but ready to defend themselves. Brindra rushed to stand by Anvil, her face illuminated more by her excitement than by the yellow lamplight.
The others remained in darkness, though Sharessa thought she saw Rings's short, stocky shadow near the edge of the light before it faded back into the darkness. She wondered where Belmer had gone. The fiend couldn't have killed him. Could it?
"It's still here," said Brindra, panting. "I can feel it." She grimaced up at the trees. Every time Anvil shifted the lantern, the boughs seemed to move.
"Hold that light still," snapped Brindra. Her eyes sought out the slightest movement. Dark crimson ichor oozed across the surface of her blade.
Sharessa usually felt safer in the shadows, but not now. She crept toward the circle of light to join the others. Once there, with her back against Brindra's, she counted heads.
All of the Sharkers were present, as were three sailors. Turbalt had shoved his way into the middle of the circle they formed, pressed against the ground below Anvil's huge form. He sobbed quietly, alternately hiding his face and glancing around like a cornered hare.
"It's no good," said Belmer, reappearing suddenly at the edge of the circle. "The thing won't fight when we're ready. Let's move."
"Let's wait until Ingrar's ready," she said. She looked at Belmer to see whether he would overrule her. He returned her gaze, paused for only a second, then nodded.
The young pirate clutched his bleeding face with both hands as if trying to press his eyes back into his head. After his initial shock, he had regained his calm, despite the grievous wound.
One of the older sailors stood near the young Sharker. The grizzled sea dog took off his shirt to reveal an expanse of gray hair on a tanned chest. Without a word, he tore the cloth into long strips, fashioning a bandage for Ingrains eyes.
Sharessa smiled her thanks to the old sailor, taking the bandages.
"I can't see," Ingrar told her plainly. "My eyes are burning."
"You'll be all right," she said. "Once we're in Eldrinpar, well find a healer. Take your hands away." When he did, she dabbed at his bloody face with the bandages. Then she saw that he might need more than just healing. A deep scratch crossed both eyes and the bridge of his nose. One eyelid hung limply, almost completely cut away. Sharessa tried to bind his eyes, but she hadn't the skill. The old sailor took over.
"I feel sleepy," said Ingrar.
"Anvil will help you," Sharessa said. The big man nodded at her, passing his lantern to Belgin. He sheathed his sword and lifted Ingrar in his arms. The boy's head lolled against Anvil's shoulder. Shar's face must have betrayed her alarm.
"He's asleep," said Anvil. "I can feel him breathing."
Sharessa nodded, then turned toward the light. A trio of moths circled the lantern in Belgin's raised hand.
v
"Let's move," said Belmer. "While we're all still breathing"
They walked for another two hours. After the first mile or so, the tree line drew away from the ravine's edge. The ground between the forest and the ravine was covered with wild grasses, relatively level except for a jutting stone here and there. There were fewer places to hide, and the Sharkers slowed a little, feeling safer with some distance between them and the obscuring forest.
Belmer called for a halt, and Sharessa organized a quick watch. She set Anvil and three of the Morning Bird's sailors around their temporary camp. She chose each site herself, making sure that each had a clear line of sight to the woods. Then she returned to the light of their brief camp.
"It's a kind of paralytic, I think," said Belgin as Sharessa rejoined them. Across Ingrar's sleeping body, Belmer nodded his agreement.
"At least the poison won't kill us," said Belmer. He laid a slim hand on Ingrar's temple, smoothing the bandage. He looked up to see that the others were watching him and removed his hand quickly. "But that doesn't make the thing any less dangerous."
"If it would just stand and fight," grumbled Brindra. She sat with her sword across her knees, wiping the blade with a dirty cloth. The fiend's blood had come off long ago, but the stench of spoiled meat and rotten eggs remained. She kept polishing the metal in a vain attempt to banish the stink.
"Where did you find that sword?" asked Belmer.
"What's that to you?" responded Brindra. She remained surly around the outlander, still deeply resentful of Kurthe's death.
If Belmer took offense at the barrel-shaped woman's tone, he didn't show it. "You cut the fiend, while its hide turned away my. blade and Sharessa's."
"Maybe you just missed," snarled Brindra.
"No, he's right," said Rings. He bent down on one knee beside Brindra. Their heads were at the same height, now. "I've never seen you sharpen this blade."
"Never needed it." Brindra shrugged, but she looked at the sword more intently.
"She took it from an Ulgarthan buccaneer," explained Rings.
"So it might be enchanted," concluded Belmer. "Anyone else have a magical weapon?"
Rings held up one of his axes, a dwarven weapon with a curving blade. "It's an everbright," explained Rings. "I don't know whether it can hurt that fiend, but it has the magic of the smith within its steel."
"What about yours, Belmer? Enchanted?" asked Belgin. Sharessa wanted to know, too. If Belmer wielded an enchanted weapon, that would explain his uncanny prowess with the sword. Many were the tales of quickblades, weapons enchanted with the speed of lightning.
"Never used one," said Belmer. "Too easy to detect. Not worth the risk."
Belgin nodded as if he understood, and Brindra looked at Belmer with scorn.
"You mean if the fiend attacks again, these two are the only ones that can hurt it?" Turbalt's voice seemed strange after such a long silence. His plaintive whine had not been missed.
"Perhaps," said Belmer. "We might be able to burn it. The thing found us even without our light, so there's no reason we shouldn't carry torches."
"That way we can at least see what we're fighting," said Brindra. She stood up and sheathed her blade.
"You and Rings must be ready to attack as soon as the thing appears again," said Sharessa.
"It may come after you, Brindra," said Belmer. "After all, you're the only one to hurt it so far." Sharessa thought for a moment that the outlander smiled faintly at the thought.
"That's all right with me," said the big woman. "I'm ready to finish the job for wha
t it did to Ingrar."
Sharessa half-expected Belmer to say that they must leave Ingrar behind, but he just looked down at the young, blinded Sharker. Either Belmer realized that the others would rebel at such a suggestion, or he was beginning to value their lives more highly.
"We've rested long enough. Let's make those torches and keep looking for Anvil's bridge."
Sharessa was the first to spot it. She said nothing at first, afraid that the shadows were playing tricks with her eyes. But the shadows had always been friends to her, and as they drew closer, she saw that her first impression had been right.
There it is," she said, pointing. A slender bridge arched across the ravine ahead. Below, the waters roared as the river narrowed. White spumes glinted in the moonlight, far below.
"Strange place for a bridge," said Belgin as they came closer. Indeed, there was no discernable path on this side, yet the bridge itself looked well tended.
"Weird looking, too," said Rings. He was right, thought Sharessa. The bridge looked as smooth as alabaster in the moonlight, thin and delicate where it arched over the ravine. At either side stood ornate archways of spiky, twisting designs that reminded Sharessa of no culture she had ever seen.
"Wait," said Belmer. "I don't like this." He paused in thought a moment, then said, "It's a trap. We go around it."
"Don't be a fool," cried Turbalt. Sharessa wished that the stupid little man would keep his mouth shut. "It's our only way of getting away from this… this thing."
"Then you cross first," said Belmer icily. Without waiting for Turbalt's reply, he waved the party on. Everyone followed, including Turbalt after a sputtering pause.
"Not that I don't trust you," said Rings. "But what makes you think that bridge is a trap?"
"You saw it. No man ever designed that bridge," Belmer replied. "It was more a fiend's idea of a bridge."
"Illusion?"
"I'm sure of it. The fiend must know we're expecting a bridge, so it made one for us. It'll probably ambush us as we start to cross."
"There is a bridge around here, somewhere," said Anvil. "But I agree, that's not it."
"So glad to have your approval," said Belmer. Sharessa thought there was more humor than threat in the man's voice this time, but Anvil shut up.
"Well walk up to the bridge, as if we were going to cross it. When I give the signal, run past," said Belmer. "Rings and Brindra, you guard the rear." Sharessa heard the jingle of Ring's nod and Brindra's indifferent grunt.
They walked toward the strange bridge, not so slowly that they looked suspicious, but not so fast that they couldn't retreat. As they came within ten yards of the queer archway, Sharessa watched for a sign from Belmer. When they had almost reached the bridge, his sword appeared in one hand, and he snapped, "Run!"
They sprinted like athletes on a track, heads low but faces forward, their weapons gripped tightly as batons. Rings and Brindra hung back, but not by far. Belmer lingered behind with Anvil, who still carried Ingrar's unconscious body.
Sharessa ran until her lungs burned. What strength she had kept after the Morning Bird sank had melted with the heat. Beside her, Turbalt puffed loudly. The little man could run much faster than she had expected.
"Look," called Belmer. They all slowed, then stopped. Sharessa turned to see Belmer pointing back toward the bridge. Its pale form melted away to show an empty space between the ravine's sides.
"Still want to cross there?" Sharessa asked Turbalt. The fat man gave her a black look before returning his gaze to the ground.
They regrouped, anxious to move away from the failed ambush.
"The fiend is getting clumsy," said Belgin. They walked close together again, ringed in lamp- and torchlight.
"No," corrected Belmer. "It's learning. It won't make the same mistake again."
"You sound as if you admire the thing," said Sharessa.
"What's not to admire?" said Belmer. "Imagine an army of them, if you could control them."
"Aye, but that's the problem, isn't it?" Rings walked with his enchanted axe ready.
"It's that sort of thinking that brought them here in the first place," said Sharessa. "If it weren't for the bloodforges, there wouldn't be any fiends in Doegan."
"Bloodforges?" asked Belmer.
"They are what give the rulers of the Five Kingdoms their power," said Sharessa. "Great magical artifacts that create armies."
Belmer halted for a moment and stared intently at her. "Are you serious?"
"Oh, yes. If it weren't for the bloodforges, I think, Doegan would control the entire region."
"Or the Fallen Temple would," said Anvil. His voice was even more hoarse than usual, Sharessa thought. The strain of carrying Ingrar was wearing him down. "The emperor is the only thing that keeps the Temple in check."
"Emperor," chuckled Belgin derisively. "He's no greater than the others, a petty king warring for land."
"And who else will protect us from the fiends?" retorted Brindra. She and Anvil were both from Doegan. "Surely not the shepherds of Edenvale."
"Hey!" interjected Ingrar weakly. The others stopped arguing at once, all eyes on their wounded companion. He murmured some protest about the bravery of Edenvalers before Anvil made him drink some water. The wounded youth sipped a few drops and returned to sleep.
"Tell me more about this Fallen Temple," said Belmer.
"It's a corrupted order based on one of the old gods the Ffolk brought over centuries ago," said Sharessa. "People say that the Fallen Temple brings the fiends into this world."
"That's not it," said Rings. "It's the bloodforges themselves. The more the kings use them, the more fiends come."
"It is true that the bloodforges are dangerous," said Anvil slowly. "They curse whoever uses them, and all their people." He pulled open his shirt to expose his ribs to the torchlight. Paint, piscine scales covered his flesh. "Most Ffolk in Doegan bear signs similar to this. Some even are born with gills."
"Interesting," commented Belmer. He leaned forward and brushed his fingertips lightly against the scales, then drew back.
"That's nothing," said Brindra. She fanned her fingers open to show that they were webbed up to the first knuckle. "Everyone in Eldrinpar and many who live nearby show some sign of the sea."
"The emperor of Doegan hasn't shown his face in public since before I was born," added Anvil. "They say it's because he's become like a fiend himself."
"Still, no ruler will stop using a bloodforge," said Belgin. "It's the only way to defend your kingdom when the enemy is using one. No ordinary army can stand against the creatures made by a blood-forge."
"Where does the emperor keep this bloodforge?" asked Belmer.
"Probably in the palace in Eldrinpar," said Anvil. "No one has ever seen it."
"That makes sense," nodded Belmer. "What do they look like?"
"Who knows?" said Sharessa. "But they're said to be big."
"Interesting," said Belmer again. "I can think of some in Faerun who would pay a great deal for such a thing." His eyes found the invisible distance of thought and observed it for a while. Then he nodded for Anvil to pick up Ingrar again, and they resumed their journey.
They walked a while in silence, and Sharessa wondered what Belmer was thinking. Surely he wasn't planning to steal a bloodforge for himself.
When she had said they were big, she'd meant vast, huge. She'd heard that the emperor of Doegan had built his palace around the bloodforge, though she wasn't sure that was true. Centuries-old stories spoke of thousands of Mar slaves dragging bloodforges on gigantic sledges when one had to be moved.
Still, Belmer seemed fascinated both by the fiends and by the bloodforges. Sharessa wondered just how ambitious he was. Would he abandon the job at hand for an opportunity to steal one?
It was a ridiculous thought, Sharessa knew. Even if he could manage to locate the bloodforge of Doegan, it was inconceivable that he could steal it. Just the question of transporting the thing half a world away, to Faerun-it was ludicrou
s!
"Wait!" hissed Belgin. He crouched beside one of the Mar sailors — Brenn was his name, thought Sharessa. Brenn held his torch high while Ingrar peered across the ground between them and the forest.
"What?" asked Belmer, after waiting a long moment.
"Nothing," said Belgin with a shrug. "Maybe just an animal."
"Let's take the fight to it," said Brindra.
"It has the advantage in the woods. If it made that sound, it may just be trying to draw us in."
Brindra didn't argue, but she looked even more unhappy, if that were possible. Rings smacked her shoulder lightly, and they turned back to follow the ravine.
Sharessa was the next to hear the rustling, and she wasn't the only one. Every hundred feet or so, another sound came from the black trees. At first they were only rustling noises. Later came the snapping of branches.
The sounds began to work on their nerves. Brindra spun around at every noise, and Turbalt let out a pathetic squealing cry. Anvil's face grew darker in the torchlight, his eyes seeming to sink deeper into his battered face. Soon, every wooden snap was followed by a harsh curse.
"Damn it! Give me your sword, Brindra," croaked Anvil. He sounded like a man who hadn't drunk for days, though he had shared water with the rest of them not more than an hour earlier.
"Don't be a fool, Anvil," said Belmer. He moved to stand immediately in front of the big man. Beside the giant Sharker, Belmer's small stature was exaggerated. He looked like a halfling beside a man.
"That's what it wants," Belmer continued. "It's working on your mind, now." Sharessa saw Brindra standing behind the smaller man, her hand upon the hilt of her sword. Belmer had to know she was there, but his attention was on Anvil.
"Don't you think I know that?" Anvil's rough voice was a dry landslide. "I'm sick of it. I'll kill the fiend, or it'll kill me. I don't care, so long as this damnable stalking stops!"
Sharessa was sure that Belmer would strike Anvil or kill the big man himself. Even with Brindra's help, Anvil didn't stand a chance against the compact swordsman. Sharessa tried to catch Brindra's eye so she could shake her head, warn her away from the argument. But Brindra's eyes were boring a hole in the back of Belmer's head. Slowly, quietly, she drew the sword free of its scabbard.