Lady of Poison (10 page)

Marrec realized he had been infected with the blightlord’s touch. Some sort of hyper-quick rot or disease, he presumed. He fumbled in his belt pouch and brought out a small vial filled with fizzing blue-white liquid. Though his directly granted spells were nearly spent, he was not without one or two additional resources. Uncorking the vial with his teeth, he gulped down its contents. The divine balm spread through him like cool water, quenching the pain and driving the infection from his body. He gasped out thanks to Lurue.

The troll took advantage of Marrec’s distraction with another claw-tipped swing, forcing him back behind the point of his spear. He risked another glance at the blightlord. Gameliel spent another second clutching the air before realizing the action was futile. Marrec’s brief infection was cleansed.

Gameliel said, “You seem resistant to the lesser rots. Let’s see how you fare against the Corruption of…”

He broke off when he saw the pale green beam of light touch dead center upon his chest. The beam was projected by Ususi, still standing just outside the ring of the bowl.

“Is that…?” was Gameliel’s last utterance.

The blightlord burst asunder. The pool of slime began to boil then wisped away like morning fog. The black halberd he had been clutching in one hand continued to stand of its own accord for a moment then slowly dissipated, like a hole in mud closing over, leaving nothing but empty air.

Residual power snapped and discharged from Ususi’s pointing hand. In her other hand she held an unrolled page of vellum, penned sigils still fading from its surface. She had unleashed a spell penned by the hand of a mighty wizard. Marrec wondered if that hand was Ususi’s?

The wizard winced, shaking her hand free of residual power, and said, “You shouldn’t have disturbed the Mucklestones, blightlord,” then fell back against a stone.

Her effort must have been extreme—the spell on the parchment may have been beyond her normal ability to cast. Smoke rose from her garments. The scroll, its potency spent, fluttered to the ground, now completely blank vellum. Ususi managed to retain her feet with the help of the supporting obelisk.

“Lurue’s blessing…” Marrec’s claim of victory was cut off by the troll’s vicious attack. Whatever power Gameliel had used to call the monster, it survived its master’s death.

He deflected one of the creature’s claw-tipped swings with Justlance, running a deep score along the troll’s arm with his spear tip. Even as Marrec watched, the rubbery flesh closed up where he’d torn it. Recollection trickled into his mind: The best way to put a troll down for good was with fire.

Marrec yelled, “Burn it!” and swung the shaft of his spear low along the ground, surprising the troll; it has been expecting another stab. It stumbled over the shaft and fell on its face, a victim of Marrec’s trip.

The unicorn warrior turned tail and retreated, even as the troll pushed itself upright with its preternaturally long arms. Still, he put a little space between himself and the beast, just enough, he hoped.

Seizing her opportunity despite her exhaustion, Ususi skipped another bead of flame down the bowl. The troll attempted to evade, but the pellet bounced once, twice, and at the summit of its third skip, exploded into a sphere of raging flame. The troll was enveloped. When the fire faded into sizzling wisps a heartbeat later, the monster survived only as a flaming remnant that sent up a pillar of black smoke.

The stench wrinkled Marrec’s nose. He grinned nonetheless, but the sound of the dizheri, as it bashed and battered against the flesh of blighted volodnis, was yet audible. Apparently the corrupted forest folk, like the troll, were unconcerned that their master was no more, but only a few remained standing. Gunggari and Elowen then appeared on perimeter of the Mucklestones, fighting their way into the bowl. A final few thrusts with Elowen’s sword, a wild swing with Gunggari’s warclub, and finally some unlooked for assistance by Marrec from behind ended the threat for good.

Nothing stirred in the bowl. Marrec’s blood cooled. He stowed Justlance.

pulled Briartan down from his cruel shackles. Marrec thought life had fled, but after feeling for a pulse, he detected a faint beat. He wondered if the time had come to use the last few healing spells he’d been saving up for a dire circumstance. Briartan was the only one around who could answer his questions. He glanced at Ash—the girl studied the supine form, but she made no move to use her healing gift. It was up to him then.

He mouthed the words of healing and touched the wounded druid’s forehead. The glowing blue threads of healing power rippled from Marrec’s arm and wound into Briartan’s body. Marrec could feel torn tissues knitting and depleted stores of energy rebounding, but he also immediately realized the truth. Briartan’s spirit was wounded to the core. The druid sought only release.

Marrec fought with Briartan’s desire. They

battled to a temporary compromise. It was the best Marrec could accomplish. He had but one spell of healing remaining. He knew he must choose wisely when and how he would use it.

Briartan’s eyes fluttered open.

Elowen grabbed the fallen man’s hand. “You’re going to be all right, Briartan.”

Marrec quietly shook his hood, but Elowen didn’t see.

The wounded druid responded, “Elowen. I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. I’ve glimpsed higher realms and the promise of infinite plains of green…”

Elowen squeezed the druid’s hand “The world needs you here, Briartan. The blightlord is defeated. Stay with us, won’t you?”

The druid found the elfs eyes as she leaned over his prostrate form. He said softly, “I will answer your questions, that you may have some aid of me, but more than that I cannot promise.”

Elowen stifled a gasp, looking for confirmation from Marrec and found it in the’cleric’s sad nod. The elfs eyes began to shimmer with retained tears. She squeezed Briartan’s hand all the tighter.

Marrec began to phrase his questions internally, but Ususi moved in, undeterred by Marrec’s need or Briartan’s fragile-state.

She said, “What did Gameliel want here? How did he overcome your defenses of the Mucklestones?”

Briartan gave a weak chuckle. “Ususi, I knew I’d see you before the end. Too bad you couldn’t have arrived earlier. What does anyone want with the Mucklestones? Control. The kind of control one might gain if he had quick access to all corners of Faerun.” Briartan ended with a cough.

“How did Gameliel overcomeyou?” repeated Ususi.

“Why, he surprised me. He sent the sickened pine folk to me. I thought they were seeking a cure. I labored for days on reversing the rot which afflicted them, before I

realized the truth; they would never be cured. What I didn’t realize was that their sickness was aimed like an arrow at me and my hospitality. By letting them breach the circle, I also allowed in Gameliel. He overcame me and wrested from me control over the Keystone.”

Ususi started, then rose from her haunches. She moved toward where Gameliel had last stood.

“Briartan?” Elowen breathed. “Are you in too much pain?”

The druid turned his head so that his gaze could rest more easily on the hunter. “Ah, Elowen, don’t be sad. I am so glad that you are here, that you are here to see me off. Please, explain my fate to the Nentyarch who sits-in-exile in Yeshelmaar. The Nentyarch must know what has happened here:”

“Yeshelmaar?” she blurted.

“You’ve been away from the fold for quite some time, then, Elowen?” ventured Briartan. He continued, “Yes, seek both the Council of Lethyr and the Nentyarch in Yeshelmaar. Bring him the Keystone.”

Marrec wanted to ask his own questions, but Elowen needed a moment with her friend. He glanced up to see what Ususi was doing. The mage was crouched, studying the scattered debris of the blightlord’s possessions.

Elowen, trying to keep the druid engaged, said, “I’d hoped that the Nentyarch was still in the Rawlinswood. If he’s taken a seat in Yeshelmaar, it must mean the Rotting Man was too strong for even the Nentyarch. When I left on my mission, Yeshelmaar was being prepared as a possible seat-in-exile. I hoped it would not come to pass.” She bit her lip then asked, “Briartan, was Gameliel acting as an emissary of the Rotting Man?”

“You know he was, and he is but the least of the blightlords who give their allegiance to the Talontyr. Anammelech’s unnatural tread causes the forest to shiver, and Damanda is nearly a power in her own right, yet she has the ear of the Rotting Man.” The conversation

was fast sapping the druid’s last reserves of strength. Briartan’s eyes began to stray upward, attempting to focus on vistas invisible to the living.

“Briartan,” Marrec jumped in, realizing the druid was close to departing, “I have traveled far seeking answers. The goddess Lurue, who you may know, is losing contact with many of her servants, me included. My quest is to renew that connection. My quest has led me first to this strange child, who we call Ash, and also the Child of Light, and now to you. It seems that, for reasons I don’t understand the Rotting Man wants the girl. More than that, I need to know who this girl is, and why she is important to Lurue. Do you have any answers for me, great druid?”

Briartan considered Marrec’s speech a moment before responding. Then he said, “I know of Lurue, the Unicorn Queen. She may have quieted her connection to you, but if she has, it is most assuredly for a good reason. It is strange, though—I do not sense that all connections of the Unicorn Queen and the world have weakened as yours has. You must seek the Nentyarch for your answers—he has time I lack.” Briartan paused, straining to gather more breath. His color, briefly renewed by Marrec’s craft, was failing once more.

Ash wandered up of her own accord and fixed the dying druid with her guileless stare.

Seeing her, Briartan’s eyes widened. “This is the child?”

Marrec nodded.

Briartan made a reverent sign with a shaking hand. He said, “Yes, she is special; I can see that with even my failing eyes. Keep her safe, unicorn warrior. One day, this Child of Light will answer to the Rotting Man’s depredations.” He broke into a fit of coughing. The druid’s time was drawing to a close.

Briartan’s cough subsided. He fixed his gaze straight up. At last he whispered, “The cycle of life may not be denied. Death gives way to life, and life…”

The druid’s gaze remained fixed even as his breath

whispered away, rising in to penetrate the boughs and branches that hid the clearing from the sky above. Never more would the wisdom of the druid of Lethyr grace the forests.

Marrec closed Briartan’s eyes. A tear traced a path from Elowen’s full eyes down her cheek. She spoke then in the language of the elves.

Though Marrec knew only a few fragments of the sylvan tongue, it seemed that Elowen was asking for blessings and aid to Briartan’s spirit from a series of elven deities and great spirits of the forest.

When she finished, Elowen stood. She said simply, “He will be missed,” then walked to the edge of the clearing, seeking solace in the unContaminated growth beyond the stone circle.

ŚŠŚ

Later, they laid Briartan to rest according to the rites of elves and druids. When finished with that solemn duty, the five rested in the bowl of the Mucklestones. Already the rot and crusted growths that had overtaken the stone circle were receding. The power of the stones was greater than that of the Rotting Man, at least without one of his blightlord emissaries present.

Gunggari had offered condolences to Elowen earlier, but the wisdom of Osse was apparently too gruff for the elven palate. Elowen continued to sit, facing away from the rest of the group, staring into the trees.

Ususi spoke up, after a long silence. “Briartan was my friend, too, in his own way. He allowed me my researches. I will continue in your company, if you’ll have me.” She looked up, meeting Marrec’s eye.

Marrec raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d go back to Two Stars. The Mucklestones are clear.”

“If I’m not welcome, then Two Stars is where I’ll go, of course,” responded Ususi.

“Don’t misunderstand me; there is nothing I’d like better than your aid,” said Marrec, trying to keep his voice from sounding testy. “I’ve rarely seen your skill with wizardry equaled. Plus, we enjoy your company.”

Out of sight of Ususi, the Oslander cocked his head. Marrec read it as a sign of amusement.

“Good!” exclaimed Ususi, smiling, which was an event in and of itself. “Then I have good news. I can get us to Yeshelmaar quickly over the course of a single march.”

Elowen finally broke her silence, saying “Via the Mucklestones?”

Ususi nodded, “I can reroute one of the main portal lines from here to there. With the Keystone, once in the keeping of Briartan, I can do it with little effort.” The woman produced a polished, amber colored stone with a natural looking hole piercing its center. The stone was strung on a leather thong. As Ususi handled it, the stone brightened, giving off a glow all its own.

Elowen gave Ususi an appraising look.

Ususi said, “I know, Elowen. I know. The Keystone shall go back to the keeping of the Nentyarch, but we shall reach the Nentyarch all the sooner if I use it, even without his blessing.”

“So be it,” said the elf.

Gunggari spoke up, “Shall we leave immediately?”

“It will take more than a few minutes to set up our route. I must make preparations using the Keystone. The dimensional referents must be navigated then posted.”

Marrec lifted an eyebrow and put on exaggerated expression of confusion. For his trouble, he received a flicker of amusement from the mage. She realized, just perhaps, that her language might be perceived as slightly humorous to those who had not the slightest idea of what it meant. Progress, Marrec hoped.

Ususi rose and approached the perimeter of the circle. She moved to stand between the gap in two stones that faced generally west. She grasped the Keystone, which

then glowed with light as strong as a torch but steadier. Ususi held it in the palm of her left hand. She closed her eyes, standing quietly. After a few minutes of studying the mage’s preparations, Marrec realized there probably wouldn’t be any other signs of Ususi’s mystical navigation, or was she ‘posting,’ whatever that meant?