D&D 04-City of Fire

by T. H. Lain

  The paladin didn't need the aid. The only remaining gnoll discarded its bow and attacked with its axe. Alhandra caught the overhead blow on her shield and drove her sword through the creature's belly. Blood soaked into the heavy fur and ran down the blade to drip from the hilt. The gnoll slumped to the ground with its jaws still snapping. Desperately it clawed at the armor-sheathed leg that Alhandra placed on its chest, to no effect. Moments later, after a quick swipe of the paladin's sword, it too lay still. By the time Regdar came down from his perch, the fleeing gnoll was long gone.

  "I could get used to this," Naull said, stepping out of the building. She looked appreciatively at the red-tipped wand, then tucked it in her belt.

  "One escaped," Regdar said with a frown.

  "Yeah, but this time we don't have to chase him," the wizard concluded. She cursed her choice of words immediately, knowing that Regdar didn't need a reminder of the disaster in the orc lair.

  Regdar gazed down the street for a moment. Naull stepped up and put a hand on his arm. She looked at him with worry in her eyes but he met her glance and smiled wearily.

  "It's all right," he said. "I think we're almost done here."

  Then we can talk, Naull thought. She patted his arm and looked around. With a cry of revulsion she jerked her hand away from Regdar and clapped at Krusk.

  The barbarian was moving through the fallen gnolls with a knife in one hand and several pointed, fur-covered ears in the other.

  "That is just disgusting, Krusk!" the wizard cried.

  The half-orc looked first from the wizard, then to Regdar, and finally to Alhandra. The look on the paladin's face made Krusk's dark cheeks flush slightly and he let the ears fall back to the ground.

  "That's better," Naull said. "Now, if they have any treasure. . . ."

  she added wispily.

  "No," Regdar said, "let's get back to the tower. Let's get this finished."

  Kark reached the archway, panting from the pain of his wound and the heat of the gate. When he looked up from the hard ground he grunted in surprise. Grawltak stepped through. The older gnoll started to cry out for his leader but the bark died in his throat. An instant after Grawltak appeared the black knight followed. He hadn't really believed she could reach them so quickly. Kark's heart sank and he let his head fall. He heard Grawltak curse and his leader moved to him quickly.

  "Kark! What happened?"

  There was nothing to do but tell the story of his failure. Without looking at the black knight directly, Kark gasped and panted through the tale of the ambush. He made no excuses, and when he looked up he was surprised to see pity in his leader's eyes.

  Pity vanished in the raw gasp of a sword leaving its sheath.

  Both gnolls looked over at the black knight. The point of her sword hovered only inches from their eyes. The blade trembled slightly and they knew it was rage, not fear or weakness, making the sword tip dance.

  "Mistress! No!" Grawltak cried.

  Kark continued panting but didn't move.

  "He failed. Would you rather I held you responsible?" the blackguard said. Her voice was smooth, almost conversational, and she moved closer.

  The blade slid directly under at Kark's chin, but the woman's pale face and bright eyes turned toward the gnoll leader. Her black hair seemed to shine in the flickering light of the gate.

  Grawltak looked at his old lieutenant. There was only resignation in Kark's eyes. He expected to be killed, here and now.

  "Yes," Grawltak said. "It was my decision to put him in charge. It was my responsibility."

  Kark opened his mouth to gasp in surprise, but that made his lower jaw hit the blade and he closed it again. The woman, however, simply cocked an eyebrow and smiled in amusement.

  "Gnolls aren't supposed to be loyal to each other, Grawltak," she purred. The gnoll leader started at the sound of his name on his mistress's hps, but he recovered his composure quickly. "Perhaps you are a little like dogs, after all." A moment later she put up her sword. "Very well. Don't think I've spared either of your hides yet. If we don't gain control of this city...." she said ominously, gazing around for the first time. It was a long gaze, and it gave the two gnolls a few moments to recover and for Kark to gulp down a little water.

  It was unnerving, though, the way the blackguard stood there, her eyes gleaming and her lips curled into the human version of a smile, Grawltak thought.

  When Kark recovered, Grawltak said, "Let's go, then."

  Waking out of her reverie, the black knight looked down at the two gnolls and nodded. Kark turned to retrace his steps back into the city but a word from the blackguard halted him.

  "No, there is no time," the woman said as she pulled off her pack and drew a large bedroll from a pouch that was much too small to hold any such thing.

  Magic, Grawltak supposed. He'd had just about enough of magic, he decided, but the gnoll leader remained silent as his mistress cut the straps and shook out the blanket. No, not a blanket, he saw clearly, but a carpet. Kark snarled with fear as Grawltak tried to understand what his mistress was doing.

  Stepping onto the carpet the knight simply said, "Come here. Hurry."

  She sat cross-legged in the center and Kark hesitantly crawled over the fabric to plop down beside her, his ears pressed flat against his head. He dug his claws into the carpet and looked at Grawltak. The older gnoll whimpered slightly with apprehension.

  Suddenly, Grawltak knew how his mistress planned on traveling. His stomach tightened but he stepped onto the carpet. Almost immediately, he felt it ripple and move beneath him. Without a doubt, Grawltak knew he would not enjoy the next stage of the trip at all.

  "We did it!" Regdar shouted as they entered the base of the palace.

  No one greeted them. A few of the smoke creatures hovered near the stairs, but when the outsiders approached, the creatures fled up onto the next floor. The party looked around.

  "He said he'd be up in the tower at the Opal Throne," Naull offered.

  "Which way is that?"

  As if to answer Alhandra's question, one of the mephits slid down the right banister and bounced to a stop at Regdar's feet. The fighter bent toward it but the creature hopped back up onto the rail and slid up and away. The heroes understood, following hurriedly up the staircase. The mephit led them to a wall at the top where a door slid open, revealing a circular closet with no ceiling.

  "What? In here?" Regdar asked.

  Krusk craned his neck and looked up inside the doorway. The smooth, rounded walls extended to the end of the half-orc's sight.

  The creature bounced again and Naull took it as a nod. Cautiously, the wizard stepped into the room and took a deep breath. Alhandra followed with Regdar beside her. Krusk didn't venture inside until the mephit's bobbing became jumps of agitation, and the half-orc finally shuffled in.

  The door slid shut and the adventurers heard a rush of steam below their feet. Warm air blew up all around them and a distinctly hot fog enveloped their feet, ankles, and lower legs. Naull bent to see if there was a vent near the floor, but Krusk bellowed in surprise and lurched against her. Naull tried to push the half-orc away and feel around for the vent but when her hands reached the "floor" she realized it wasn't there.

  "We're flying!" Naull shouted.

  Regdar put a hand out to touch one of the white walls but Alhandra seized his wrist in alarm. When the party peered closely at the sides of the chamber they realized the uniform walls were moving by very quickly. And, while it felt like they still stood on firm ground, Naull explained to the party that they were actually standing on a cushion of smoke and air.

  "How did they do this?" Alhandra asked. After the initial shock, the paladin seemed to enjoy the trip.

  "I wish I knew," Naull answered with obvious envy.

  She looked over at Regdar, who returned her glance. He, too, looked like the ride met with his approval. Krusk, however, stood close to the center of the room clutching his elbows and holding his eyes tightly shut. Alhandra broke out of
her wonder at the magic to step up to the half-orc's side. She touched his bicep and his eyes popped open. Naull and Regdar watched as the paladin whispered something to Krusk and the barbarian seemed to relax slightly. He took two deep breaths and nodded.

  "Look!" Naull said, pointing up.

  From the ground none of them had been able to see any end to the white walls, but now a dark ceiling approached rapidly. Krusk bellowed but even as he scrambled to put his hands over his head, their upward movement slowed, then stopped. They came to rest at least twenty feet below the ceiling and a moment later, one of the white walls opened, letting some of the mist spill through. With Krusk leading, the four adventurers exited the tower, followed by the mephit.

  "Solid ground," Krusk grumbled, stomping.

  Naull and Regdar grinned at each other but looked up as Alhandra stepped beside them and stopped suddenly, her hand smacking into Naull's back.

  Slightly annoyed, the wizard twisted toward the paladin but then her eyes caught sight of the world around her and she forgot the bruise on her back.

  From street level, the minaret of the White Tower looked like a bright flame at the end of a tall, white staff. Even though Naull knew they stood in a planar area between the Elemental Plane of Fire and the Material Plane, she'd assumed the flaming tower was no more than an illusion, a bit of glamour to give the White Tower more visual impact. Palaces were supposed to be brilliant and even Naull had been to enough cities to see that rulers spared no expense to decorate their homes and impress visitors.

  They've outdone themselves here, Naull thought.

  She ignored the white stone of the wall behind them. The rest of the room was fascinating. The floor looked rough and red below her feet, like molten lava, but it felt smooth and firm and the wizard sensed no heat rising through her boots. Flowing out from the center, the lava floor stopped at the walls, if she could call them walls, and Naull followed slowly, her left hand outstretched. The walls were transparent and appeared to be—no, they were, the wizard decided with conviction—made wholly out of live flame. Red, orange, gold, and yellow tongues danced up from the edge of the tower's floor, but did not mar her view of the city below. It was, indeed, as if she was in the midst of a torch's fiery end, but the air felt cool and comfortable.

  "Welcome to the Opal Throne," a voice behind her said.

  It was Gurn, and as Naull slowly turned she saw her companions doing the same, marveling at the tower's structure and the view beyond.

  If the tower itself was impressive, however, the Opal Throne was magnificent. There was no doubt the chair the azer stood by was the Opal Throne—it could be nothing else—and Naull felt herself gasp as she looked at it for the first time.

  Carved from a single giant opal, the throne's smooth, round features made it appear comfortable and welcoming. The light of the flaming walls gave the whiteness an almost living hue, and Naull felt that if she sat on the throne she would feel warm, secure, and comfortable. Indeed, the arms of the chair appeared to open for her as she watched. Naull stepped forward.

  "A gift from the Elemental Plane of Earth," the azer said, stepping in front of it.

  Naull shook her head and blinked. Was I actually thinking of sitting in the throne? she wondered. The thought was ludicrous. Looking around, however, she saw Alhandra and Regdar both looking as if they were coming out of a similar reverie. Krusk, however, had a hard look in his eyes and he scowled at the white seat.

  Regdar spoke first. "We did it," he said simply. "We killed all the gnolls but one. They hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile from the gate when we ambushed them. One escaped, but he was wounded."

  The azer nodded and asked, "The blackguard?"

  "There was no sign of her," Alhandra answered, but she sounded uneasy.

  Gurn frowned and tugged at his fiery beard. He turned toward the Opal Throne.

  "She is coming," Krusk announced.

  The azer turned back and looked at the half-orc, and the rest of the party turned to Krusk as well.

  "How do you know?" Naull asked.

  "The gnoll's leader. The one who bears the axe and sword. He was not there."

  "No," Regdar said, "the leader was the old one. He was just on the edge of the fireball. He barely escaped."

  Naull thought back to the inn yard and with a sinking feeling she remembered.

  "Krusk's right. When we dropped the packet, I remember an old gnoll and a gnoll with two weapons. The younger one was shouting orders, I think. It was all so fast..." She held up a hand as Regdar started to speak. Turning to Krusk, Naull asked, "But why does that mean the blackguard is coming?"

  "She follows my trail. In the desert, the gnolls struck first, but the black knight came after. Her hounds follow our scent and she comes behind."

  "Maybe she got left behind, in the caves?" Alhandra offered.

  The half-orc remained firm. "The gnoll with two weapons was the pack leader. He would not let another lead his pack without a terrible reason. Someone he fears commanded him to stay behind. She comes with him now."

  "Why would she want him to—" Regdar argued, but Alhandra interrupted.

  "Regdar, if Krusk's right, we don't have any time to waste. Even if he isn't, we have little to lose by being thorough."

  The fighter thought for a moment, then nodded and said, "All right, so what do we do?"

  Regdar looked over at Naull, but the wizard turned toward Krusk and Gurn.

  "It's their show, I guess," she said, jerking her thumb toward the half-orc and the azer.

  The azer agreed. "Come here," he gestured toward Krusk.

  All the companions moved toward the Opal Throne. With a mild shock, Naull saw that it wasn't completely white after all. Along the back and sides were small, inscribed or enchanted circles of nearly translucent flame. Outside the city's protective aura, she suspected, those flames would burn without touching.

  Each sigil appeared slightly different from every other, but they all looked at least a little like the key Krusk bore. When the half-orc drew it out the talisman blazed to life again, hovering slightly above his palm.

  "Each of these circles once belonged to a lord of the Material Plane, or of Fire," the azer explained. "A lord could sit on the Opal Throne and open the conduits between the two planes, summoning forth spirits or beings of either, compelling them to serve by the same ancient compact that allowed us to build the city.

  "The last lord of Secrustia Nar, corrupted by the perversions of the efreet, tried to command evil spirits of fire to invade the Material Plane, but we stopped him," the warden said, suddenly looking very old. He shook off the memory quickly, however, and continued, "We trapped his spirit in the Negative Energy Plane and he cannot be released while the city stands. All the lords surrendered their keys, except one." The azer pointed to the flame flickering in Krusk's meaty palm. "One was kept hidden, in case of disaster, in case we needed to open the gates again."

  "Um..." Naull broke in when the azer paused. "I hate to interrupt, but why would you need to open them again? I mean, if no one was going to live here, then—"

  "Some of the last lord's followers escaped," Gurn interrupted. The flames in his eyes were dark, like smoldering charcoal, and they matched the anger in his voice. "They followed dark gods and made evil bargains, and never gave up searching for a way to bring fire to the lands beyond the Elemental Planes. They sought ways to rescue the last lord of the city, too, but while the key remained hidden, that road remained barred."

  "The blackguard ..." Alhandra said, her voice full of dread.

  The azer nodded in agreement and said, "Hextor, God of Tyranny, Champion of Evil, Herald of Hell, and Scourge of Battle—he granted boons to those of the last lord's followers who worshiped him. They pledged themselves to the service of chaos in return for escaping our justice. Hextor always delights in cheating his brother of justice."

  The fiery dwarf chuckled grimly and Naull looked from Gurn to Alhandra in alarm. The woman's white face was pale but sh
e nodded once, sharply.

  "Heironeous," she said.

  The wizard saw the paladin's hand go to the emblem on her breastplate, the bolt of lightning in the grip of a strong fist.

  "Heironeous," Gurn agreed, then he turned back to the throne, touching sigils quickly. "The war between gods spills onto mortals yet again. When you told me a blackguard was responsible for the burning of Kalpesh, the slaughter of the last Protector, and the pursuit of the key, I knew it would come to this."

  "Do you know—" Regdar paused briefly—"her?"

  The azer chuckled even as he worked. "No, no. At least, I hope not! No," he concluded at last, "but I know of her and her type. Blackguards rose in the city even as the last lord took power, and the worshipers of Hextor were chief among them. I am certain she is of the order of those who served the last lord and she has somehow gained knowledge of the key, and of the Opal Throne's power."

  He turned his back on the heroes then, making a few more passes across the Opal Throne. Whatever ritual he performed was complicated, but Gurn continued talking.

  "So now the key and the throne threaten our very existence. An evil creature who controlled the Opal Throne could command the forces of Fire, or release the dark one from his bonds."

  Gurn finished and looked back at the companions somberly.

  "It is time to return the key to the throne and shut the gate to the City of Fire forever."

  He held out one brass-colored hand. Krusk slowly offered the glowing, hovering ball of fire to the azer.

  But even as Krusk did so, Gurn started in surprise. Looking down, he saw an arrow protruding from his chest. Gazing up at the flickering walls of the tower, he pointed over the half-orc's shoulder.

  Blasting through the flame came the black knight and two gnolls mounted on a flying carpet. The old gnoll had its bow in its hand and was already nocking another arrow. The younger gnoll leaped down off the carpet as soon as it passed through the flames, its axe in one hand and the vicious, hooked scimitar bare in the other. The gnoll leader howled its anger and hate as it charged.