Faces of Deception

by Troy Denning

  After many hours of tense darkness, the river seemed to grow slow and quiet Atreus began to feel a soft, almost imperceptible thunder in the pit of his stomach, and Seema started to row. When he offered to take her place, she only laughed and said she would rather trust her life to her own ears.

  The subtle rumbling built to an audible roar, and soon the roar started to reverberate inside Atreus’s chest. A series of rhythmic booms echoed up the river, the sound of huge waves hurling themselves one after another against the granite walls of the Roaring Gorge. He could almost feel the river gathering itself beneath him, filling him with the water’s mad energy. He imagined being drawn down the canyon and sucked into the crashing cataracts in utter darkness, being hurled against an unseen cliff and splashing into the black water amidst the splinters of their boat, being swept to a watery grave in the unexplored vastness beyond.

  Oblivious to Atreus’s growing concern, Seema merely continued to row. When the current finally began to draw them onward again, she abruptly changed directions and worked madly to maneuver upstream into the still shelter of a shore eddy.

  “Now we wait,” she said. “Sleep, and I will watch for the dawn.”

  “Sleep may be difficult,” Atreus said, settling down in the bow of the boat. “This isn’t the quietest place in Langdarma, and I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  But the pulsing crash of the Roaring Way proved surprisingly soothing. Atreus soon fell into a deep, rejuvenating sleep, and it seemed only moments later when Seema began to shake him, one hand covering his mouth to keep him from crying out.

  “Wake up,” she whispered. “Rishi is coming.”

  Atreus opened his eyes and found himself staring up into a huge willow tree, its drooping boughs silhouetted against the dim gray sky. Beyond the stern of the boat, less than a thousand yards downriver, loomed the soaring black throat of the Roaring Way. It was a narrow crashing slot of froth and foam, cut straight down the face of the towering granite cliff that shielded Langdarma from the unknown wilderness.

  Seema was looking in the opposite direction, her gaze fixed on something well upriver. Atreus sat up and turned, then hissed in anguish as he tore open a dozen scabs. His flank was instantly coated in ooze, and his whole body felt achy and hot. Daggers of pain lanced outward from his swollen hip, shooting down his leg into his foot and up under his ribs as high as his shoulder.

  Seema frowned and said, “Atreus, you are not up to this.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he groaned. “I’m a lot bigger than he is.”

  Seema looked doubtful, and said, “Getting killed for the Seven Gifts would be as bad as doing the killing.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Atreus reached into his cloak for the vial of shining waters, which was still swaddled in its protective rags and said, “As I recall, this can be almost as good as a healing spell.”

  “What of your quest?” Seema asked. “I doubt an empty vial will please your goddess.”

  “Don’t let it trouble you,” Atreus replied, then looked across the gray waters to the center of the river, where a lone boatman, completely oblivious to his hidden audience, was gazing into the throat of the Roaring Way. “I know where to get a refill.”

  Atreus pulled the vial from its protective swaddling, and his heart sank. The water within looked no different from that in the river, save perhaps that it was a little clearer.

  Seema touched his arm. “Atreus, I am so sorry.”

  Atreus shrugged, forcing himself to swallow his disappointment. “It looks like Rishi was right after all.” He uncorked the vial and dumped the water into the river, then looked toward the Mar’s boat and said, “I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

  Seema studied him warily, making no move to take the oars. “Do what?” she asked.

  Atreus winced inwardly, but tried not to show his disappointment. She had every reason to be suspicious.

  “Well, I won’t be needing this for it.” Atreus tossed the vial into the river, motioned at the oars, and said, “Now, will you start rowing or do I have to do everything myself?”

  Seema smiled, took up the oars, and rowed out of their hiding place. Rishi was so intent on the Roaring Way that he did not notice them until their boat left the shore eddy, and even then he was so astonished that he wasted many valuable seconds standing frozen at his oars. Seema nosed into the main flow and began to row across the current, moving them into a perfect position to cut the Mar off downstream. Rishi began to row madly, aiming his prow at their midsection.

  “He’s going to ram us!” Atreus said.

  “He is going to try,” Seema sneered. “Stay in front and be ready. Do not worry about me or the boat.”

  Atreus crouched on his haunches, bracing himself to jump. Though Rishi was rowing like a galley slave, It seemed to take the Mar’s boat forever to close the distance. Atreus glanced downstream. The Roaring Way was less than seven hundred paces distant, its dark throat growing wider and more ferocious-looking every moment. Whether there would be enough time to recover the fountain was anyone’s guess. The nearer they drew to the canyon, the faster the current seemed to flow.

  Atreus looked back to find the Mar’s boat almost upon them, its sharp prow aimed just behind Seema’s oarlocks. He stood, gathering himself for a long leap.

  “Wait,” Seema said.

  She reversed her downstream oar and began to row in two different directions at once. The craft pivoted on its center, executing a graceful pirouette that brought it alongside Rishi’s boat so close that Atreus simply stepped across into the bow.

  The Mar’s eyes grew wide. He dropped his oars and reached for something behind him. Atreus sprang toward the middle of the boat and cursed when his sore hip buckled and left him lurching into the oars. Rishi came up with a hatchet in one hand and the Fountain of Infinite Grace in the other.

  “Put the hatchet down!” Atreus demanded, sinking into a defensive stance, ready to dodge or block. “The cup, too. I won’t hurt you.”

  Rishi looked doubtful. “Indeed,” the Mar said. “You will only deprive me of all I have worked so hard for.”

  The Mar raised the hatchet as though to attack, then turned and leaped into the stern of Seema’s boat as it passed by. Atreus scrambled after him, but by the time he had clambered past the rowing thwart, Seema’s craft was several paces upstream. He grabbed the oars and struggled to maneuver after her but could not reverse the boat’s momentum quickly enough to prevent the distance from opening even farther. Seema spun her boat around to meet him, but Rishi was on her in an instant, his hatchet poised to strike if she closed the distance.

  Atreus’s boat began to tremble with the crash of the Roaring Way. He looked back to find the gorge less than four hundred paces away, its craggy mouth looming dark and wide. The current was picking up speed even faster than he had feared.

  “You are as stubborn as a water buffalo!” Rishi called. He hefted the platinum cup in his hand. “But there is no reason we cannot strike a bargain. I will give you the fountain, and you will give me everything else.”

  “What about Seema?” Atreus asked. He glanced down into the back of his boat and saw the other six Sacred Gifts lying among the Mar’s stolen supplies. “She must not come to any harm.”

  “Do not worry about me,” she called.

  “You said there could be no killing over the Sacred Gifts,” Atreus replied. He picked up the jade vase and displayed it, praying that Seema would understand he was trying to show her where the other gifts were. “I suppose that applies to you as well.”

  Seema arched her brow. “I suppose it does,” she said.

  Rishi smiled in relief and said, “Good.”

  The Mar nodded to Seema and as she maneuvered their boat toward Atreus’s, Rishi called, “I cannot say how pleased I am to discover that you are a reasonable man who does not hold grudges for what could not be helped.”

  “If you’re talking about Yago, thank Seema.”

  The effort of
rowing against the current made Atreus weak and feverish, but he did not slacken his pace. He could feel the power of the Roaring Way coursing through the boat, a constant reminder that every second was carrying them all that much closer to the canyon of no return.

  “She made me promise not to kill you,” Atreus added.

  Rishi’s smug smile vanished. “How unfortunate, then,” he said, “that we will not be traveling together.”

  Seema drew her boat up alongside, and Atreus said, “Just leave the cup with Seema and come over. Everything’s here.”

  “I am begging your pardon, good sir, but I fear that would be most foolish of me.” Rishi backed toward the stern of his boat. “I will stay in my boat while you come over here, and then when I am safe—”

  “Now!”

  As Atreus spoke, he raised his oar out of the water and swung it into Rishi’s arm. The hatchet fell free and clattered into the bottom of the boat, and Seema hurled herself from between the oarlocks, lunging for the fountain in Rishi’s hand.

  The Mar pivoted away, at once drawing the cup out of reach and cuffing her behind the ear. Seema did not even have a chance to cry out; she simply flew over the side and splashed into the water.

  Atreus dropped his oars and kneeled, grabbing a handful of long hair and pulling her over to his boat.

  “Do not worry about me,” Seema sputtered, grabbing hold of the boat. She thrust a hand behind her, where Rishi’s boat was beginning to drift away. The Mar himself was stooping down in the bottom of the craft, no doubt retrieving his dropped hatchet. “The cup … we are almost too late.…”

  Atreus glanced downstream and saw the gorge rushing up fast. He could not even guess at the remaining distance. There was nothing ahead but a short stretch of shore eddy and the dark abyss of the granite canyon. Leaving Seema to pull herself aboard, he gathered his feet beneath him and hurled himself across the growing distance between the two boats.

  He was still in the air when Rishi came up with the hatchet.

  Atreus raised both arms, blocking with one and reaching for the Fountain of Infinite Grace with the other. His hand closed around the cup, but he was sore and feverish and too slow to stop the hatchet. The blade arced over his arm and bit into his back. He bellowed and lashed out, catching Rishi in the chest and sending him tumbling; only then did Atreus realize that he had crashed down on the side of the boat. He was hanging half in the river and half out, huffing like an exhausted carp and clutching the fountain in one bloody hand.

  Rishi appeared in the stern, sitting up and trying to shake his head clear. Atreus heaved himself aboard, nearly capsizing the boat, and turned to Seema. She was standing at the oars, nosing her craft out of the current into the last little section of shore eddy. He could feel the thunder of the Roaring Way reverberating behind him, filling his body with the mad energy of wild water and the unknown beyond.

  Seema yelled something he lost in the thunder and waved for him to jump, but Rishi hurled himself out of the back of the boat. Atreus brought his arm around underhand and sent the platinum chalice arcing toward Seema’s boat.

  Rishi screamed madly and raised his hatchet. Atreus spun on his aching sore leg and glimpsed the fountain trailing silver water as it dropped into Seema’s boat, then brought a foot up for a stomp kick. Rishi flung himself into the air, stretching for Atreus’s head. Atreus thrust out his leg and planted his heel square in the Mar’s chest. The hatchet flew one way, Rishi the other, and they both disappeared into the river.

  Atreus felt the first gentle cataracts rocking the boat. He dropped into the bottom, leaned over the side, and saw Rishi flailing about in the water. He caught the Mar by the shoulder and hauled him aboard, then glanced down the canyon. There was nothing ahead now but walls of white thundering water and the dark, looming gorge.

  Atreus shoved Rishi toward the oars and glanced upstream. Seema was standing in her own boat, safe in the calm waters of the shore eddy, looking toward him holding the Fountain of Infinite Grace. She extended her arm and inverted the cup, pouring its silver waters into the river. Atreus’s boat passed into the mouth of the gorge and the canyon wall loomed up beside him. It was a dark, craggy thing soaring up to the ice-blue sky itself, and Seema vanished from sight.

  There was no time to wave.

  About the Author

  When he isn’t wandering the planes, roaming the Athasian deserts or tramping through the forests of Faerûn, Troy Denning enjoys many hobbies, including all forms of skiing, hiking, mountain climbing, and Kyuki-do—a form of tae-kwon-do incorporating judo, boxing, and hapki-do. He has worked in molybdenum mines, seedy nightclubs, and other high-risk jobs such as game design and editing.