The Gilded Rune (forgotten realms)

by Lisa Smedman

  Or so the thinking went.

  “It’s unfortunate,” Commander Steeleye said, “that our duergar captive was so vague about the runic protections on the approaches to the temple.” He gestured at the lines leading to the central portion of the map. “Telling us ‘they’re everywhere’ doesn’t help us much.”

  “Patience,” Lord Scepter Bladebeard counselled. “The tablets from Iltkazar may yet hold some clues.” He gestured at a cleric of Dugmaren Brightmantle who sat in a corner, hunched over two large baskets of runic tablets that had been carried into the room earlier. The cleric, a fellow with sparse white hair and spectacles balanced precariously on the end of his pinched nose, was reading furiously, the tablets making clicking noises as he hurried through them.

  “In the meantime, our people are still dying of the stoneplague,” Commander Steeleye growled. He sighed and rested his hands on the desk. “Gentlemen, I’ve reached my decision. We’ll send in a single elite squad to scout the city and learn what we can by infiltrating the temple. Their mission will be to learn precisely where the rune that cursed the River of Gold was inscribed, and to dispel its magic if they can.”

  The officers who’d advocated for a scouting party broke into triumphant grins.

  “A scouting expedition is not enough!” one of the officers shouted over the others. His face was scabby and gray from the stoneplague; part of his beard missing. The other officers all stood at arm’s length from him, obviously not wanting to get too close. “We need to make the duergar pay for what they’ve done. The army must march!”

  “Agreed,” the High Commander said. “But first, we need to know if the duergar are themselves preparing to mount an attack. Crippling us with the stoneplague may have been merely the first thrust. Before we move our army out, we need to probe the Deeps and make sure the duergar and their allies aren’t massed there, waiting for us to march away so they can storm our gates.”

  There was some muttered protest at that, but most of the officers nodded their agreement. Dwarves were a careful folk, who never tried to cut a stone without taking a good look at the grain of it first.

  “The only question remaining,” Commander Steeleye said, his eyes ranging across his officers, “is which of you will be on the squad.”

  Torrin expected the officers to all shout out at once, but instead a hush fell. Each squared his shoulders and smoothed his beard, doing his best to look as though he were on military parade. Each man’s eyes silently pleaded for the High Commander to bestow the honor upon him.

  Torrin moved into position just behind the officers and tried to catch Commander Steeleye’s eye. When that failed, he cleared his throat. Still the High Commander ignored him, his eyes looking over every man in the room but Torrin.

  The Lord Scepter, however, glanced in Torrin’s direction and gave a slight nod. “High Commander,” he said. “If I might make some observations as to worthy candidates?”

  Commander Steeleye nodded. “You may,” he said.

  Torrin looked expectantly at the Lord Scepter.

  “We need not only stalwart officers, but men who have skills in other areas,” the Lord Scepter said. He nodded at an officer whose beard was an uncombed brown fuzz against his cheeks. “Captain Blackhammer, for example, was instrumental in taking down that nest of rogues a few years back. I’m told he’s not only a master of disguise, but also has as much of a nose for hidden passageways as a boar does for truffles.”

  Blackhammer beamed and tapped his nose in acknowledgement.

  “And Captain Stoneshield, I understand, has a talent for magic,” the Lord Scepter continued. “They say he can open a passage through solid stone and close it again with no more than a whisper-something that will prove highly useful in penetrating the mazelike warrens of a hostile city, especially one whose every wall is said to be protected by rune magic.”

  Stoneshield bowed and came up grinning.

  “I would also recommend Delver Torrin Ironstar,” the Lord Scepter continued.

  Heads turned. Eyes narrowed.

  “He has labored ceaselessly toward finding a cure, and was instrumental in learning the cause of the stoneplague,” the Lord Scepter continued. “What’s more, he’s a human, and thus is less likely to trigger Drik Hargunen’s protective wards, the vast majority of which are set to react to dwarves.”

  Torrin flushed with pride. He bowed and rose smiling. “I’d be honored to serve my city, High Commander Steeleye.”

  “Thank you, Lord Scepter,” the High Commander replied. “But we need men of the same size and stature as a duergar, in order for the disguise spells to work. That means dwarves only.”

  “But High Commander, I need no disguise!” Torrin protested. “Humans are welcome in-”

  “Dwarves only,” Commander Steeleye repeated coldly.

  Torrin bit back his retort. Clearly, no matter what he said, he wasn’t going to be included on the squad. Yet he must! Moradin himself had decreed that Torrin had a role to play in ending the stoneplague. Was that role really to come to such an abrupt end? Torrin couldn’t just sit idle in Eartheart. Kier was depending upon him.

  The Lord Scepter glanced at Torrin, then away. Was that disappointment in his eyes? The knowledge that the Lord Scepter had faith in him was cold comfort to Torrin. He needed to be on that squad.

  As the debate continued, the door to the office opened. Torrin turned to see who the newcomer was. His eyes widened as he saw Baelar.

  The older dwarf was wearing his Peacehammer armor and cloak, but no helm. His frost axe was strapped to his back. The right half of his scalp was bare, with fresh pink skin where his long gray hair should have been. His right cheek was likewise pink, and there were scorch marks in his beard. He carried his right hand close to his side, his fingers curled tight; the skin on them also looked new. Baelar had obviously suffered some grievous injuries, and only recently been magically healed.

  Had he been burned by the blind red dragon in the Wyrmcaves?

  Torrin knew better than to ask. He met Baelar’s eyes as the skyrider strode into the room, and lifted one eyebrow in a silent question. Baelar gave a slight shake of his head. The disappointment and frustration in his eyes gave Torrin his answer. Baelar had failed in his quest to secure the wyrmlings’ blood.

  “Captain Thunsonn,” Commander Steeleye said, acknowledging Baelar’s arrival. “I hadn’t expected to see you up and about so soon.”

  “When my city calls, I answer,” Baelar said. He bowed, stiffly, to the High Commander and to the Lord Scepter, who nodded back. Baelar then joined the officers.

  The High Commander was starting to make his selections. Yet he hadn’t decided who would lead the squad. It would have to be, he noted aloud, someone capable of finding their way about the duergar city. And that gave Torrin an idea.

  A brooch identical to the one the Lord Scepter had given Torrin was pinned to the Lord Scepter’s chest. Torrin turned slightly aside, and spoke in a low voice into his brooch. “Lord Scepter? Can you hear me?” he said.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Torrin saw the Lord Scepter nod.

  “Do you want me on that squad?” Torrin continued. “Do you believe that’s what Moradin wants?”

  “I did what I could,” the whisper came back. “This is a military matter. It’s out of my hands.”

  “There’s still a way,” Torrin said. “If Baelar leads the squad, I’m certain I can convince him to take me.”

  “Go on.”

  Torrin spoke quickly. When he was finished and turned back to the group, he saw that the Lord Scepter’s eyes were gleaming.

  “I have one further recommendation for the squad,” the Lord Scepter announced. “Captain Thunsonn.”

  “With all respect, Lord Scepter, he’s still healing,” the High Commander noted. “Barely able to hold an axe, let alone swing one.”

  Baelar winced.

  “That may be so,” the Lord Scepter continued. “But Captain Thunsonn has perhaps the most useful skill o
f all, although I doubt that any of you know of it. Many years ago, not long after his beard first sprouted, he lived for nearly a year in the duergar city of Gracklstugh. He was a weapons trader, dealing in duergar steel, and knows a thing or two about the gray dwarves.”

  There was a heartbeat of stunned silence. Even Commander Steeleye visibly stiffened.

  “Is this true?” he asked, fixing his stare on Baelar. “You lived among our enemies?”

  “Disgraceful,” one of the officers hissed.

  Baelar paled. Fortunately, he didn’t glance in Torrin’s direction. Torrin wouldn’t have trusted himself to keep a neutral face, if he had. He felt a deep sorrow at having to put Baelar in such a position. Yet what the Lord Scepter was about to add would make everything right again for Baelar, if only the others would listen.

  “Gentlemen!” the Lord Scepter said, his voice ringing out in the strained silence. “Let me finish. Captain Thunsonn lived in Gracklstugh at the Council’s order. He was a spy!”

  The officers fairly tripped over themselves in their haste to make their apologies to Baelar. Several bowed in his direction.

  Baelar acknowledged them by bowing himself. His face was still pale when he rose, however.

  “As a result of his assignment,” the Lord Scepter continued smoothly, “Captain Thunsonn became fluent in the duergar dialect.” He turned to Baelar. “You do still speak it, don’t you, Captain?”

  Baelar’s head jerked in a nod. “I do, Lord Scepter,” he said.

  “I therefore recommend Captain Thunsonn be assigned command of the squad,” the Lord Scepter concluded. “As the only one of you who speaks the duergar dialect, he will be able to answer any challenges the duergar make-challenges that are certain to be directed to the group’s visible leader. I further recommend that he be given a free hand in the final selection of the squad. There may be others who also possess talents like Captain Thunsonn’s-talents they don’t openly speak of.”

  Commander Steeleye was staring at his men, a slight frown on his face. As the officers voiced their approval, however, he glanced at the Lord Scepter. The two locked eyes a moment, and then Commander Steeleye returned his attention to his officers. “Very well, then,” he said. “Captain Thunsonn will command the squad.”

  The Lord Scepter smiled.

  “My thanks,” Torrin whispered into his brooch.

  “Thank Moradin, Delver Torrin,” the whisper came back. “And serve him well. And… one other thing. When this meeting is over, come see me in my chambers. There’s something I want you to have.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The man who treasures his friends is usually solid gold himself.”

  Delver’s Tome, Volume IX, Chapter 63, Entry 6

  As the meeting broke up and the selected officers departed the High Commander’s office to make their preparations, Torrin made his way to the Lord Scepter’s chambers. He was stopped several times by Steel Shields and questioned, but as soon as he identified himself they nodded him past. He reached the Lord Scepter’s chambers at last, and knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” came the reply.

  Torrin pushed open the door. He was surprised to see a human in the room-a wizard, by the look of his wand and his robes. Like Torrin, the fellow wore his beard braided in the dwarven fashion. Rings decorated every one of his rather pudgy fingers. Standing next to a table, he passed his wand over what looked like a lump of red clay and whispered to himself. When he shifted position slightly, Torrin saw the runestone lying next to the lump of clay.

  Torrin’s mouth fell open. “What is he-”

  Lord Scepter Bladebeard raised a hand, commanding silence. Torrin bit back the rest of what he’d been about to say. The wizard completed his spell, and the lump of clay assumed a flat, oval shape and an entirely different color. It appeared to have been transformed into bloodstone. And not just any piece of stone, but an exact duplicate of the runestone.

  The Lord Scepter smiled and touched his brooch. “It was you who gave me the idea, Delver Ironstar,” he said. Then he turned back to the wizard, who was tucking his wand into his belt. The Lord Scepter handed the fellow a heavy looking coin pouch, but paused for a moment before releasing it.

  “Not a word of this to anyone,” the Lord Scepter told him. “Not even members of the Council.”

  “Of course,” the wizard answered. “My discretion is assured, as always.” As he left the chambers, he slid a sideways glance at Torrin.

  Torrin waited in dry-mouthed silence as the door closed. He could understand why a human wizard had been called to the Lord Scepter’s chambers. For one thing, dwarf wizards were few and far between. More importantly, they were more likely than a human was to tip the ore cart, and let tumble what had just been done.

  The Lord Scepter picked up the real runestone. “I want you to take this,” he said.

  “You honor me by entrusting it to me, Lord Scepter,” Torrin replied as he bowed.

  The Lord Scepter passed the runestone to Torrin. “What better place to keep it, than in a Delver’s pack?” he said. He gestured at the strongbox in a corner of his chambers, next to an opulent marble table. “Even a magically sealed strongbox is susceptible to thieves,” he said. “If those thieves are looking in the wrong place, there’s even less chance they’ll find what they’re after.”

  “What thieves?” Torrin asked, suddenly worried.

  The Lord Scepter’s eyes turned serious. “The duergar, for one,” he said. “Who’s to say they haven’t already pulled the same trick we’re about to-that they haven’t already sent spies to Eartheart, disguised as true dwarves. It would be easy enough to do.”

  Torrin raised a fist to his chest. “I’ll keep the runestone safe, Lord Scepter. By Moradin’s beard, I swear it.”

  “That you will, Delver Torrin. I’m certain of it,” the Lord Scepter said, staring up at Torrin. “One thing more. The brooch I gave you-I want you to keep it, as well. You will be my ears, in Drik Hargunen.”

  Torrin nodded, although the words made him thoughtful. Surely High Commander Steeleye would keep the Lord Scepter appraised of the squad’s progress. There was something more afoot here.

  “Is there anything in particular you hope to hear?” he asked.

  The Lord Scepter spread his hands. “Just keep close to the squad,” he said. “If anyone starts behaving… strangely, I want to know about it.”

  A nasty thought occurred to Torrin. “Do you think the duergar might try to infiltrate the squad?” he asked. “In disguise?”

  “That’s certainly something to watch for,” the Lord Scepter answered. “But there’s more to it than that. If anyone’s loyalties seem to be shifting, let me know at once.”

  Torrin nodded. There was clearly someone on the squad that the Lord Scepter didn’t trust. But whom? Torrin knew better than to ask. The Lord Scepter would have told him the name already, if he’d had any intention to reveal it.

  The Lord Scepter held Torrin’s eye a moment more. “I want you in Drik Hargunen,” he said. “With that squad. No matter how you get there.” His eye lingered a moment on the runestone in Torrin’s hand. “I assume you overheard the words that activated it, when our captive was being questioned?”

  Torrin nodded.

  “Good,” the Lord Scepter said. “But let’s pray that isn’t necessary.”

  He gestured at the door. “Now hurry, and find Baelar,” he added. “Convince him, as you said you could, to include you on his squad.”

  “As you command, Lord Scepter,” Torrin said. His heart pounded with excitement. It no longer mattered that the High Commander had overlooked him, that his officers and knights regarded Torrin as a mere pretender. The Lord Scepter himself had placed his trust in Torrin.

  Torrin hurried back to the headquarters of the Steel Shields, the most likely place to find Baelar. He spotted the captain striding through the building’s central chamber, under its great translucent dome.

  “Baelar!” Torrin called out. “A mo
ment of your time. We need to talk about the scouting expedition.”

  Baelar didn’t reply. Perhaps, Torrin thought, his hearing had been damaged in the dragon’s attack.

  It was only after Torrin touched his shoulder that Baelar turned to face him. His face was flushed, his good hand balled in a fist. “How dare you!” he hissed.

  Torrin jerked to a halt. “What-”

  “You were the only one who knew I once lived in… that place,” Baelar said, after a quick glance at the knights who bowed as they passed. “I trusted you with that confidence, as an illustration that any man might rise above what he had once been. And you used it against me by telling the Lord Scepter, of all people!”

  His accusing stare made Torrin feel odd. It was as if their relative statures had suddenly reversed, as if he was a mere boy, staring up at an angry grandparent.

  “I had to,” Torrin said. “You’re a natural to lead the squad-and you’d never have volunteered that information yourself.”

  “Of course not! You saw how the others reacted when they heard I’d lived in Gracklstugh.”

  “But the Council ordered you to go,” Torrin protested. “You were a spy.”

  “You beardless boy,” Baelar spat. “That part was a lie.”

  Torrin’s mouth fell open. He swallowed, suddenly sheepish. “At least the Lord Scepter made certain there was no shame attached to it, by saying you’d done it at the Council’s command,” he said.

  Baelar winced. “And how long do you think they’ll believe that?” he asked. “They’ll do the calculations, and realize that Bladebeard wasn’t even on the council when I was supposedly given my orders.”