“It’s tall enough to stand, but narrow,” he cautioned.
“Now the lad,” ordered Entreri.
Together Kern and Trandon lifted Noph from his bed and laid him on the muddy floor. Then, with a sudden, startling show of strength, Trandon wrenched the broad plank bed from its fastenings. He and Kern moved Noph onto the temporary stretcher, aided by Shar. The female pirate had been standing by the door, sword drawn, listening with some trepidation to a continuous battering, accompanied by grunts, growls, and unsavory slithering from the corridor. In the cell window, not far from her, she could see a variety of vaguely moving shadows, and with a shudder, she knew she did not want to see the unnatural forms that cast them. At Entreri’s summons, she seized one end of the plank bed. Trandon took the other and crawled awkwardly into the hole, supporting Noph’s head while Shar followed at the lad’s feet.
Left in the dungeon, Kern and Entreri stared at one another with naked distrust. Kern was the first to speak.
“Very well, assassin,” he observed coldly. “I will accept your leadership only because I must—since you and your followers outnumber me. But when we’re safely out of danger, your true peril will only have just begun. Ill challenge you in the sight of Holy Tyr to fair com—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” interrupted the other impatiently. “But for the time being, do what I say without making a speech about it. Now, into the tunnel!”
The golden paladin seemed about to say something more, but thought better of it and followed the others. Entreri did likewise. As he left the room, holding the last remaining torch from the cell, he removed an object from his pocket and tossed it at the door, which was now rapidly splintering under the fiendish assault. There was a flash and a rumble of falling stone. In the narrow confines of the tunnel, the escapees halted a moment.
“What in the name of justice was that?” muttered Kern.
“Smokepowder,” replied Entreri laconically. “I collapsed the ceiling of the cell. No one will be following us for a while.”
The thought that if the passage they were in had no outlet, that the assassin had just sealed them in a tomb, may have occurred to some in the party, but none gave voice to it. Instead, they struggled along what seemed an endless distance but was in reality probably no more than fifty yards.
Ingrar, in the lead, halted so abruptly that Trandon bumped into him. There was a muttered colloquy between the pirate and the fighter, while the others waited impatiently.
“Gives a whole new meaning to ‘the blind leading the blind,’ ” muttered Shar wryly to Kern just behind her. In the enclosed space, the paladin was uncomfortably aware of her closeness, her scent a mingling of sweat and a perfume he could not identify.
The party heard Trandon grunt with effort for a moment; then there was a sudden rending of wood. Trandon opened a pair of double doors, and pale light spilled down the passage. The others, grimy-faced and grim, emerged slowly from the cupboard into which the tunnel had emptied.
They found themselves in a vaulted stone hall, clearly outside the prison complex of the palace. The din of fiendish battle had vanished entirely, but there was a dull, low rumble that time and again shook the floor, as of some vast engine far underground. Their torches illuminated only a small part of the hallway; on both sides of them, it stretched on into unknowable blackness.
The escapees clustered around Noph, who, lying on his board, coughed and spat a gobbet of blood onto the floor of the corridor. Entreri glanced at Kern.
“Can’t you heal him? I thought all paladins could lay hands on wounded.”
Kern shook his head. “My magical abilities for the day are nearly exhausted. I’ll have to rest before curing him. I can try it now, but I doubt it’ll do him any good.”
“Try,” said Entreri.
Kern stretched out his hands, placing them on Noph’s forehead, bending his own head in prayer to Tyr. A faint glow came from his hands, and Noph’s breathing eased somewhat, but nothing more occurred. Kern fell back, sweat dripping from his brow. “It’s no good. I can’t do anything more for now.”
Entreri grunted grudging assent and turned to Trandon. “What about you?”
The older fighter looked up, startled. “What about me?”
“Can you heal him?”
Trandon shook his head. “I haven’t the ability. I’m not yet a true paladin.”
Artemis turned away abruptly. Shar moved to speak to him, but the little man turned his back on her, motioning for Kern to join him instead. Shar glared furiously at the assassin, then moved to join Trandon and Ingrar in cautiously exploring their new surroundings. The hall was lined on both sides with dark wooden furniture. Some distance down the passage, on the opposite side from the cabinet, was a niche in which a bas-relief had been carved into the wall at about eye level. It depicted a man’s face, startling in its beauty. Shar thought she recognized the features of the mage-king she had so briefly glimpsed before he’d shattered his glass tank to escape the impact of Entreri’s magical pills.
Ingrar came back and sat down next to Noph. His hand sought the young man’s.
“Ingrar,” whispered Noph. “Am… am I going to die?” Tears ran down his face, streaking the bloodstains on his cheeks. “I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to die at all. There are so many things I’ve never done, so many things I’ve never seen….” His voice faded.
Ingrar squeezed his hand. “You won’t die. We won’t let you. I won’t let you.” His blind eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed. “There’s something odd about that fellow.”
“Who? Kern?” Noph’s eyes opened. “He’s really not so bad. Not as stuck up and pompous as Miltiades. In fact—”
“No, no,” Ingrar interrupted. “The other one.”
“Trandon? What’s wrong with him?”
“I’m not sure. But he knows more than he tells. And he could have cured you. I heard it in his voice. He could have, but he didn’t want to.”
Noph heard Ingrar’s words through a haze of pain and nausea. The events of the past few days ran together in a confused stream: the fight by the fountain; his infatuation with Sharessa; Artemis’s disastrous attack on the mage-king; and, above all, the horrifying revelation that Lady Eidola, whom he’d come to the Utter East to rescue from her kidnappers, was nothing less than a doppelgänger, a shapeshifter whose crocodilian teeth and claws had so nearly cost him his life.
“Trandon,” he whispered, more to himself than to Ingrar. “Can Trandon be a traitor? It’s wrong… wrong….” His voice faded again, but the sharp-eared Ingrar caught one last phrase: “Something is wrong….”
Chapter 2
Love and Trust
Noph stirred and started suddenly awake. His mind poised, swooped, and remembered: the fight with the doppelgänger, the struggle in the dark cell as the water rose higher around him, his rescue, and the journey through the dark tunnel to this place, wherever this place was. His heart was pounding as if it would beat its way through his chest. His chest… He glanced down, puzzled that he seemed to feel no pain from his wounds.
“Easy, lad. Lie easy.” Trandon pushed him down gently. “You lost a lot of blood.”
Noph looked up at the silver-haired warrior, trying to find the courage to formulate his suspicions. Then, with a sigh, he gave up and sank back against something soft, warm, gently rounded. Long silky hair tickled his ear, and moist, gentle lips brushed enticingly against his cheek.
“Sharessa!” Noph half-turned, meeting the dark, dancing eyes of the she-pirate.
“Well, Noph, how do you feel?”
Noph considered a moment. “The pain is gone.” He looked down at his chest, his ragged shirt revealing the flesh beneath clean and unbroken. “I’m healed!”
“Aye. He did it.” Shar gestured toward the golden figure of Kern, who stood across the hallway deep in conversation with Entreri. Turning his head, Noph saw Ingrar, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, gazing with unseeing eyes down the
passage into the blackness beyond the torches.
Shar continued. “We rested here. You’ve been asleep half a day. That much rest was enough for the paladin to cure your wounds. But you must still be careful. Trandon’s right; you’re too weak to do much.” Her eyes sparkled wickedly. “You’ll have some lovely scars. I’m sure girls will want to examine them very closely.”
Noph relaxed and let his head rest against Shar’s ample bosom. Despite the strangeness of their surroundings, he felt an odd sense of peace and fulfillment, as if some raging conflict within him had been stilled. Shar stroked his head, humming an old song of sailors and the sea in his ear. He could feel her heart softly beating.
“I see the patient is awake and comfortable.” He looked up to see Entreri staring coldly at him. The assassin and the paladin had evidently reached some sort of conclusion, for they called the party to gather round. Noph sat up, feeling weak but alert.
Kern spoke. “Master Entreri and I have agreed that until we find the bloodforge, which is the source of all the madness around us, well cooperate.” He spoke without emotion, but it was clear to Noph what it had cost him to make this agreement with a man whom he despised.
“When we find the bloodforge, however—”
“Aye, when we find it,” interrupted Entreri briskly. “Time enough to think of that when it happens. Right now we need to be moving; we’ve wasted enough time here.” He glowered at Noph, who blushed and tried to sit up straight.
Entreri turned back to the group. “Now, then. Does anyone have any idea where we are?”
Trandon shrugged. “Probably some other part of the mage-king’s palace.” He gestured down the corridor. “Fifty feet down that way, there’s a fall of stone blocking the corridor. It probably came down when Aetheric broke out of his tank.”
Entreri nodded. “Very well. That makes things simpler. There’s only one way to go, so well go that way.” He gestured in the direction opposite that indicated by the elder man. “Ingrar, you and I go first. Trandon and Kern form the rear guard.”
“Hey!” cried Noph and Sharessa simultaneously. Entreri did not even spare them a glance. “In the middle.” His mouth drew in a sour line. “Since you seem to have so much to talk about, keep yourselves entertained and stay out of trouble.” He drew his blade and took Ingrar’s arm to guide the blind pirate. “Right. Come on.”
Sharessa sucked in her breath with an angry hiss and scrambled to her feet. “What’s he doing in front?” she asked irritably, gesturing toward Ingrar.
“Ingrar seems to see blind a good bit better than the rest of you do with eyes,” returned Entreri calmly. “I don’t know what’s going on with his sight, but as long as he can sense danger, he might as well be where he’s going to do us some good.”
Ingrar turned to Sharessa. “It’s true, Shar. I can feel things I couldn’t before. I… I don’t know why.” His voice faltered.
Shar was silent for a moment, then flung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. She looked at the others. “Come on, the rest of you. Follow the blind man.”
Noph rose, his knees shaking. The others spread out their formation and, without a word, followed the assassin and the mercenaries.
The corridor ran forward for some way, then bent to the right and ended at a large double door. The party gathered before it, and Entreri pulled the handles in vain.
“Locked.” He shrugged. “Kern, you and Trandon have a go at it. This is a situation that seems to call for more strength than brains.”
Kern snorted angrily, but he and the fighter pulled at the massive wrought-iron handles. The doors, however, remained obstinately closed. Shar and Noph joined the effort but without success. Finally Entreri turned to Ingrar. “Can you do anything?”
The young man stepped forward, his fingers running delicately over the ironwork tracery that covered the doors. He touched the lock, tapped it once or twice, and then bent, putting his ear next to the metal. “Shar, give me a hairpin.”
Silently Sharessa drew a long, lethal-looking pin from a pouch at her belt. Ingrar accepted it and thrust it into the lock, probing carefully.
“Hurry,” urged Entreri.
Ingrar gestured irritably. “The less noise you make, the more I can hear and the faster this will go.”
Noph shivered. He felt a creeping sense of unease. He strained his eyes, staring back along the corridor they’d come from. Beyond the bright circle cast by their torches, he could see nothing, but the sensation of dread increased. He noticed that Trandon was also staring into the darkness, a look of intense concentration on his face.
Sharessa had taken a torch from Artemis and stood near the door, holding it high. Entreri stood near her, his shadow streaming along the floor.
From the blackness of the corridor, a piece of the darkness detached itself and leaped upon Entreri’s shadow. There was a deep gurgling sound, like a thirsty man taking a deep drink of ale. The assassin’s shadow darkened, solidified, and rose.
A second Artemis Entreri stood in the torchlight staring at them.
Noph couldn’t tell if the startled cry had come from his own throat or from one of the others. The false Artemis matched it with a wild scream of battle fury and, drawing its sword, rushed upon its diminutive double. The master assassin barely had time to parry in a flash of skirling metal. The twin figures circled each other again and again, blades flickering in the torchlight in a deadly dance. The rest of the party stood silent, as if paralyzed.
The duo broke apart, one with a thin line of red trickling down one cheek. “Damn you, do something,” he shrieked at his companions.
Sharessa, standing closest to the battle, had already drawn her sword and brought it to the guard position. Now she stood hesitating, staring at the double image before her. Sweat trickled down her brow.
“Damn it!” she muttered. “Which one’s real?”
One Artemis shouted, “Come on, Shar! Finish him!” Shar’s sword came back in preparation for a sweeping stroke, then halted again. Now the other Artemis chuckled.
“Good judgment, Sharessa. Now take care of him and well finish this.”
Again the female pirate’s muscles tensed, then slackened. The others in the party stood silently watching her. Noph marveled at the brilliance of the swordplay between the two Artemisia. It was plain that the shadeling had imitated Entreri’s prowess as well as his appearance. The two fighters closed in a tight circle, neither willing to give ground. The echoes of their blows resounded weirdly down the corridor into an unfathomable distance.
Now the two broke apart again, each searching for an opening. But this time, Sharessa hesitated no longer. With a deep breath that was almost a gasp, she brought her sword across in a deadly, graceful arc. The head of the Artemis on her right leapt from his shoulders. His body stood upright for a moment, a fountain of blood spouting from the neck. Then, in a thin shriek, it dissolved into darkness. Noph thought he saw a dim patch of shade fleeing into the blackness beyond the torchlight.
The other Artemis sank to his knees. In addition to the cut on his cheek, his left sleeve was soaked in blood. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and bound the wound, using his teeth to pull the bandage tight. Then he glared at Shar, who hadn’t moved since her victory.
“That was cutting it rather fine, don’t you think?”
Sharessa started, as one coming out of a trance. “I couldn’t tell which one was really you.”
“How did you know which one to kill?”
The shapely pirate looked Entreri full in the face. “I didn’t.” She turned away to stand by Noph.
Ingrar had turned back to the door. There was a sudden snap as the lock gave way, and the young man stepped back, anticipating a possible trap. Nothing happened, however, and after a moment, the blind pirate gestured to Entreri.
The little man, still preoccupied with bandaging his arm, nodded to Kern. “Go ahead, paladin. Forward, in the name of Tyr!”
The golden knight straightened
at the sound of his god’s name, even in jest. “Forward, in the name of Tyr!” He drew his sword and pushed open the doors.
A warm current of damp air swirled about them, stirring hair over damp brows. The breeze had a strange, musky scent, redolent of a room long unused, in which some unnamable thing had been left to rot. Kern stumbled over a piece of furniture and gave a low exclamation that, uttered by anyone else, might have been taken for a curse. Then Trandon came through the doors, a torch in his hand, followed by the rest of the party.
They were in a large room, though one clearly abandoned for some time. Its walls were hung with rich tapestries, but they had been left to the tender mercies of rats and worms. The furniture was sturdy-looking and comfortable, but when Noph, still feeling weak, leaned against a chair, it collapsed with a crash. The room seemed to have been fitted out as a bedroom for someone of high estate, but clearly no one had slept there in a long time. Over everything was a cloying miasma of damp and decay.
On one wall, near the antique bed, was a portrait of a man in the flowing robes of a Doegan high official. Dark hair, tinged with streaks of white, was swept back over a high forehead. Deep, dark eyes looked out from the canvas and seemed to follow the intruders about the room.
Shar joined Noph before the portrait. “That’s him again,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Aetheric. I saw a carving of his face in the corridor.”
Noph shook his head. “No, Shar. I’ve seen his face, too, but he’s a monster, not a man.”
Sharessa shook her head vigorously. “You don’t understand, Noph. Aetheric wasn’t always that way. The bloodforge made him into what he is. At least, that’s the story.” She shivered. “When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me stories about him. I think he liked to frighten me.”
Forgotten Realms - [Double Diamond Triangle Saga 07] - Uneasy Alliances Page 2