Pool of Radiance (24 page)

The three left the wizard’s chamber as quietly as they had entered. Outside, they were greeted by the reassuring snores of the gnoll leader and his mates. Just as they were about to step from behind the curtain, however, a deafening gong sounded in the courtyard, and squeals and screams resounded from one end of the compound to the other.

They could see nothing from where they stood, plastered tight against the wall behind the curtain, but they could hear the chaos in the room beyond when the gnoll leader leaped from his bed, kicking females out of his way as he scrambled to reach the courtyard. Then they heard scrambling noises as the dozen or so gnoll mates pushed and shoved their way out the door after him.

“Can you call that horse of yours out?” asked Ren.

Shal nodded.

“Good. Just as soon as we clear the door, you two mount up and get out of here while the camp is still in an uproar. I’ll act as a decoy till you can get across the courtyard. You can count on the gnolls to fight in lines like fools. I’ll manage somehow to dodge my way past them, but be ready to pick me up!”

Shal and Tarl followed Ren’s instructions without hesitation. In moments, they were mounted on Cerulean’s broad back, plowing through the center of the courtyard in the midst of the chaos. Shal held the Staff of Power out at just the right height to clip the tall gnolls in the neck as they approached, sending them to the ground like so many ninepins. Others who managed to duck under the staff reached up, grabbing, trying to stop the big horse, but Cerulean was relentless. Tarl, in the meantime, was swinging his hammer with passion.

At that moment, the air was pierced by a loud war whoop, and Ren emerged into the courtyard, brandishing his twin daggers. Immediately several disorganized groups of gnolls began to advance toward him. Ren knew that the key to fighting gnolls was to avoid getting hit. The creatures were big and gangly and awkward in their movements, but when they connected, the person at the receiving end of a blow seldom got up. In a blur of motion, Ren began to dodge, duck, and knife his way through the lines. One gnoll got hold of his shoulder and shoved him down roughly, so that his elbow jammed hard into the rocky ground. It took all of Ren’s presence of mind and willpower to ignore the pain and jump quickly back to his feet, but before he could get free, a gnoll’s spiked cudgel slammed into his left hand, goring through flesh and bone and pulverizing the flat of his hand with its impact.

The pain was like a massive electrical charge that jolted through Ren’s body. He felt as if his insides were going to burst, just as air would explode from a burst balloon. He could no longer react rationally, but fought on in a frantic, instinctive, uninhibited frenzy. Pain and fear drove him forward with a fury that was frightening. With his good hand, he drew out a short sword and wielded it with such a vengeance that he emasculated one gnoll with a swing, then gashed partway through the belly of another with his next. Even the bloodthirsty gnolls grew wary, and Ren sensed that he had to keep moving while he retained the advantage. As he started to dart across the courtyard, he came face to face with the huge gnoll chieftain.

Obviously Cadorna hadn’t lied about the ancestry of the gnoll leader. Ren had never seen such a creature. The chieftain had the ungainly height of a gnoll, coupled with the bulk of a brawny human. Ren might well have mistaken him for a giant, were it not for his face. A man’s nose protruded like a wart from a hyena snout, and pink human lips framed slavering canine teeth. But it was the eyes that were most terrible of all. They were unnaturally large, wide-rimmed and wide-set like a gnoll’s, but they bore the searing intelligence of a human being—a sick, crazed human being. The creature bore a monstrous double-edged sword and a long, sharp dagger.

“Human slug! Don’t think for one minute you can run from me!”

The creature’s speech was thick and difficult to understand. Obviously its distorted mouth could barely produce the sounds of the human language. Ren stopped immediately, brandished his own short sword, and issued a challenge of his own.

“Half-breed vermin! Don’t you think for one minute you can stop me!”

“So it’s a fight you want, is it, worm?”

“Aye,” said Ren. “A fight it is. One on one. To the death.”

A ring of gnolls had started to close in around Ren, but the chieftain waved them back. From every building, gnolls swarmed to the center of the courtyard, and it was only the threatening glances of their leader that kept them from pressing in and crushing the duelers.

In moments, not a single gnoll remained to block Shal and Tarl’s path, but instead of fleeing, they remained motionless, watching horror-struck as the strange duel unfolded. They watched as the huge gnoll-man landed a devastating blow square on Ren’s head with the flat of its sword.

“Gods and demigods! I’ve seen enough!” Shal shouted in a voice that could be heard even over the tumult. With a piercing mental command, she spurred Cerulean into the midst of the mob. Without a moment’s hesitation, she leveled her staff at the half-gnoll chieftain, intoned three syllables, and watched as a bolt of lightning blasted straight through the creature, sending it flying across the compound. When the horrified gnolls turned in unison toward her and Tarl and started to charge, she leveled the staff again and blasted away unmercifully. Fireballs and lightning ripped through the hordes of gangling hyena-faced creatures, and their squeals and shrieks of pain blotted out all other sound. Only the few who were fortunate enough to be near Ren were spared.

As soon as Ren recovered from the blow to his head and the shock of seeing his opponent jolted across the courtyard, he fled toward the compound gate, afraid of being consumed in the flames that were exploding everywhere. Quickly he mounted the terrified mare that stood waiting and spurred her away from the burning encampment at a gallop.

When she was sure Ren was safe, Shal spurred Cerulean around and charged out the gate after him. Tarl clasped her waist tightly, marveling at the uncharacteristic fury of his companion. In minutes, the huge magical steed had caught up with Ren.

When they reached his side, Shal reined to a stop. Behind them, there was no sign of any pursuit.

“What in the Abyss did you do that for?” Ren’s face was crimson with rage.

Neither Shal nor Tarl had ever seen Ren so angry. Shal responded with an anger of her own. “That ugly thing was clobbering you back there! You would’ve been killed if I hadn’t done something!”

“But it was a duel of honor!”

“Honor? What good is your honor if you’re dead? Don’t you understand?” she cried. “He would’ve killed you! I’d seen enough for one day. I suppose it was also honor when you went off on that rampage over the damn garden and killed those four innocent gnolls without batting an eye!”

“Innocent? You call them innocent? Don’t you remember you nearly puked when you saw that corpse in the temple?”

“Okay, so they weren’t innocent. But they hadn’t done squat to us. And our goal was only to get the treasure and get out safely, not to see how many gnolls we could kill!”

Ren’s face reddened as he blurted, “And who was it who wiped that place free of gnolls, anyhow? It sure as Tymora wasn’t me!”

“Okay, so I got carried away. But I’ve never been so disgusted by anything in my whole life. All day it was building up in me—what with the trash, the stench, that poor soul in the temple, the blood in those chalices, the snake symbols, and that filthy creature fighting you in the courtyard. By the—”

The adrenaline that had carried Ren through the bloody battle in the courtyard suddenly gave out. Pain and loss of blood took over, and the big man dropped limply from his horse in a cold faint.

Shal and Tarl were at Ren’s side in seconds. There was an ugly gash in his head, and his hand hung limp and useless. Shal immediately applied pressure to his wrist to slow the bleeding, and Tarl held his hand on Ren’s head and prayed. In moments, severed capillaries fused shut and the bleeding stopped. Tissue stretched over crushed bone and melded with other tissue until the wound was no longer life-threatening, but the severity of Ren’s wounds was such that Tarl could not hope to heal them completely. It would take a cleric with the acquired skills of Brother Sontag to fully mend such an injury. But Tarl could help. He could make him more comfortable and cure some of the worst of the damage. In a few minutes, Ren regained consciousness.

The argument of a few moments ago was completely forgotten as the three shared their concern for each other’s physical well-being. Shal and Tarl insisted that Ren take time to soak his hand before they attempted to move on. it wasn’t until the sun was low in the sky and darkness was creeping over Uncivilized Phlan that Ren convinced them that he was ready for the ride back.

All had had enough trouble for one day, and the gate to a city never looked so good as it did that evening. As they waited outside the gate, Tarl was the first to spot the cynical guard they had spoken to on the way out. He started to smile when he saw the guard ride out from behind the open gate accompanied by a young watchman. When they drew near, the guard raised his sword and pronounced, “You’re under arrest.”

Tarl stopped smiling as the guard jabbed the point of his sword into his ribs and ordered all three of them to come with him.

“What the—” Ren spluttered, his anger quick to surface again.

“Under arrest for what?” Shal blurted out. “By whose orders?”

“For unauthorized travel in the ruins,” responded the other guard. “By authority of Fourth Councilman Cadorna.”

“Fourth Councilman Cadorna!” It was Tarl’s turn to be angry. “Our mission was under his auspices! It was he who sent us out here!”

“We’re just followin’ orders,” said the first guard. “Frankly, if’n I were you, I’d be tickled to make it out of the uncivilized portion of the city alive. Matter of fact, I think we discussed that this mornin’, didn’t we? You were a might cocky, as I recall it. Seems that the Fourth Councilman suspects you might have borrowed some things that weren’t yours.”

Ren’s face was crimson with anger. “That’s ridic—”

The younger guard jabbed him hard with the point of his sword. “Enough! Come with us!”

When they reached the council building, the younger guard once again began barking orders. “Get off your horses. Move over against those tables there. Open your packs, your pouches; empty your pockets, your shoes. Everything on the table. Separate out the treasure that belongs to the Fourth Councilman.”

With a word, Shal protected her magical items from tampering. She then discreetly removed the vase from the Cloth of Many Pockets and was waiting for an opportunity to remove the armor unseen when Ren caught her eye. He barely moved his head, but she knew what he meant: “Don’t take it out.”

At the same time, with the dexterity of a polished street magician, Ren slipped the two ioun stones from the hilts of Right and Left and into the chameleon gauntlet on his right hand. As Shal began unhitching the heavy belt she wore at her waist, Ren sidled up to her and said, “Here, sweetheart. Let me help you with that.”

The older guard chortled at the big man’s forwardness, and Shal blushed even as she realized that Ren was pressing something into her waistband.

With one hand, she made a point of pressing Ren away, while with the other, she appeared to be holding fast to the belt he had offered to help her remove. “I’ll get it myself, thank you!” she said tartly. The paper-thin gauntlet Ren had slipped her remained unseen inside one of her big hands, and as she fumbled with the buckle, she was able to press the gauntlet—and the ioun stones inside it—into the Cloth of Many Pockets for safekeeping.

From the shadows of a doorway, Gensor watched the two companions. He suspected that something, physical or verbal, had passed between them, but he hadn’t actually seen anything.

Tarl bridled at Ren, no more aware than the guard of what was really transpiring between the two. With angry deliberateness, not uttering a word, he slapped down his hammer, his shield, his armor, and the treasure of the textile house without so much as a word. But when the young guard insisted he remove his sacred medallion, he said coldly, “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Come now, there’ll be no need for that.” Cadorna strolled into the courtyard. His gray eyes were glued to the gold bullion Ren had just removed from his pack.

“What do you mean by having us arrested for doing your bidding?” Shal turned on Cadorna with a look not unlike the one she’d given the gnolls at the textile house before blasting them to dust.

“No need to be so testy, young woman,” Cadorna replied smoothly. “Obviously these fine guards misunderstood my intent. I wanted them only to escort you here safely so that no one would have the opportunity to rob you of your treasure.”

” ‘No one’ meaning us?” Ren asked pointedly.

“Naturally I wanted to see everything you brought back with you.”

“Are you reneging on your promise to give a percentage of the treasure to the Tyrian temple?” asked Tarl.

“Why, Brother Tarl! I’m offended that you would suggest such a thing. In fact, I just wanted to be sure your partners were honest in providing all the treasure so the temple would be sure to get its fair share.”

“I trust my friends,” said Tarl.

“I trust no one,” retorted Cadorna, his face growing cold. After examining everything carefully, the councilman assembled the treasure into one pile. A crooked, toothy smile pasted on his face, he handed a single gold brick and the coral and ivory brooch to Tarl. “For the temple. Quite generous, don’t you think?”

Tarl clenched his teeth but nodded reluctantly. The portion was nowhere near fifteen percent of the treasure, but he knew he would receive no more and that the temple could do worse than inherit a gold brick and an emerald brooch.

“You’re free to go now,” Cadorna said finally. “I do thank you all. You will help me out again if I need it, won’t you?”

9

Assassination Weather

All of Phlan and the entire Moonsea was awash in the tumult of a terrific thunderstorm. Lightning ripped through the sky in every direction, and deafening thunder reverberated for tens of miles. A person versed in weather and the natural pattern of things might have noticed that the lightning was almost perverse in its configuration, bolting upward and outward from one point and shattering the sky in an unnatural purple brilliance, but most people were undoubtedly more than content to huddle in their homes, hoping they were out of reach of what the next day they surely would refer to as “a demon storm.”