Pool of Radiance (36 page)

Moving even more cautiously, they turned the next corner in the maze. The emblem of the Black Watch greeted them from the chest of a man suspended grotesquely in the hedge. His machete was still in his hand, but it hadn’t done him any good once he’d come in contact with the bush’s thorns. His skin had already taken on an unnatural color from the poison that had worked its way through his system as fast as the blood circulated in his body. His eyes were bulging, but when his mouth began to move, they realized that he was still alive—barely. With incredible difficulty, he gasped, “Cadorna … the bastard … didn’t care … how many of us … died …”

Tarl reached out to try to heal the man, but he was too late. The soldier’s last breath rattled in his throat, and his body hung limp in the thorny hedge. Beyond him lay a companion, another soldier of the Black Watch, also dead, lying facedown with his hand caught up high behind him in the hedge. Across from the two men, the hedge walls had been chopped wide open, wide enough for three or four men to pass through.

“Do you think he meant that Cadorna brought the Black Watch here?” Shal whispered.

Ren nodded. “I can’t think of anybody else paranoid enough to let men die just to get through a hedge. I’m sure he’s here somewhere. In fact, we might have a chance to get the Lord of the Ruins and Cadorna, because I don’t see any sign that anybody’s come back out through these bushes.”

There was no question now which route would lead to the heart of the castle grounds. A nearly straight swath had been cut through at least a half dozen walls of shrubbery, and the two soldiers had died cutting through the final one. Ren wondered how many others had died hacking their way through the hedges. From where he stood, he could see a boot protruding near one hedge wall and a hand sticking out near another.

“Follow me,” Ren declared. “Keep low and to the center of the path, as far away from the branches as possible.”

Once they emerged on the other side of the maze, they found themselves staring up at the central tower. Its lofty walls were of rarest white marble. At another time, Shal thought, the tower must have been beautiful and pristine-looking, a giant monument to all that was good in the land, but now its every feature reflected the same kind of corruption and defilement Shal and the others had been fighting since their first mission for the town council. Runes of the type often used by black mages marred much of the marble surface of the building’s exterior. Despite its light color, the tower appeared to be shrouded in shadow.

Part of the tower had tumbled in on itself. A scaffold had been erected halfway up the damaged portion of the tower, and two ogres lay dead beside it. “That’s one fight we missed,” whispered Tarl. Shal and Ren smiled. They were all feeling excited and obsessed with a growing sense of purpose, but at the same time, all three were as tense as stretched slingshot bands, so the levity, however brief, brought relief.

Tarl pointed to a huge doorway to the left of the scaffolding. Its monstrous wooden door stood wide open.

“I suspect Cadorna and any men he has left went in that way,” Ren said. “Let’s see if there’s another door.”

Cadorna was fit to be tied. The kill fee he would have to pay the Black Watch and the mercenaries’ guild was astronomical. Five soldiers of the Black Watch had been poisoned by the bushes, and four more had died facing a wizard who kept trying to pass himself off as the Lord of the Ruins. When Cadorna finally came face to face with the dragon, he didn’t have enough men left. The six remaining soldiers of the Black Watch had managed to weaken the dragon considerably before getting themselves killed, and Gensor had managed to make a couple of magical attacks, but in the end, Cadorna was forced to flee with Gensor to a nearby room to plan what to do next.

Shal and Tarl followed Ren cautiously as they circled the tower. There was a second door of more conventional size on the building’s opposite side. It was an ebony door with an elaborate carving of a dragon on it, but this door was shut. Shal cast a spell to detect magical traps. When a yellow aura glowed along the door’s perimeter, Shal summoned Cerulean from the Cloth of Many Pockets. As soon as the great horse touched the door with a hoof, a yellow mist puffed from the dragon’s mouth. “No!” Shal bit back a scream as Cerulean bolted backward, snorting loudly. Immediately Shal murmured a cantrip to disperse the poison gas, but the puff of wind did not come soon enough to keep the first of the poison from penetrating the big horse’s nostrils and lungs. Shal tried to calm Cerulean, but he was shaking his head furiously and snorting violently in an effort to get the toxic gas from his lungs.

Tarl pulled a pouch from his belt and tossed some dust at Cerulean’s nose. Immediately the horse began to sneeze, and he kept it up for several seconds. By the time the sneezing finally slowed, Cerulean’s eyes were bleary with water and his nose was running thick and yellow. He snorted once more, but then the fit was over. Shal wiped his nose and eyes with a cloth and patted his neck.

You okay, big fella? she asked silently.

Cerulean nodded. His breathing was still a little uneven, mixed with sniffles, but the poison was obviously no longer a danger.

Meanwhile, Ren had checked the ebony door for mechanical traps. Finding none, he eased it open. Peering inside the door, Ren could see that the chamber inside was completely open, from the full height of the tower to the depths of the subterranean cavern below. The door opened onto a roomy landing, fenced by an iron guardrail. A black grillwork stairway led down. The walls inside the tower and the cavern below all glowed a brilliant golden color.

“I’ve seen this somewhere before,” Ren whispered.

Behind him, Tarl answered softly, “In the gnoll temple … The model looked just like this. He’ll be here, all right. This must be the lair of the Lord of the Ruins.”

“Do come down,” called a warm, avuncular voice from somewhere below. “I enjoy company.”

The three exchanged surprised glances, but it was Ren who creeped out onto the landing and peered down into the great golden vault. He saw no sign of Cadorna or the soldiers of the Black Watch, but from the top of the stairway, he could see a crescent-shaped pool, a full-sized version of the model they had seen in the gnoll temple. It glistened with an unnatural intensity, as if it created its own light source. “The pool!” whispered Ren.” ‘Power to the pool.’ That’s it! The blood from the temples is channeled into that pool!”

Beside the pool, partially hidden from view by the landing, stood a great bronze dragon, identifiable by its metallic color as one of the good dragons of the Realms.

“Please come down,” the dragon repeated. Again the voice, which echoed through the golden chamber, seemed friendly and had a genuine warmth to it.

Ren had seen three dragons close up before. Each had seemed bigger than the one before, but this one was easily half again the size of any of them. Electricity crackled along the beast’s gums and teeth each time it exhaled, and its tail switched behind it nervously.

“A bronze dragon” whispered Ren to Shal and Tarl, behind him. To the dragon, he said, “We seek the Lord of the Ruins.”

“Dead,” breathed the dragon, puffing a wisp of smoke into the air. “A puny man, but with tremendous magical powers of possession. As evil as anything I’ve seen in millennia.”

“Do you live here?” Ren questioned. He had never heard of a bronze dragon choosing a subterranean lair.

“Yes, honorable Ren o’ the Blade. This has been my lair for several of your lifetimes. Greetings to you and your companions, Shal Bal and Tarl Desanea.”

All three were startled that the dragon knew their names. Tyranthraxus, the evil possessor of the dragon’s mind, recognized their concern and immediately spoke to assuage their fears. “Now, now, there’s nothing to fear. You see, your reputation precedes you, and I must say that the length and breadth of Phlan is safer for your presence. In fact, it is your weakening of the power of the Lord of the Ruins that has allowed me to finally free myself of his control. For years, he held me captive here by means of mind control and a form of possession the likes of which I hope died with him. But his rotting body remains here in my lair. I would be indebted to you if you would remove it.”

Ren motioned for Shal and Tarl to follow him, and he started down the stairs. Shal called Cerulean back into the Cloth of Many Pockets, and she and Tarl followed.

As the three stood facing the dragon, they were awed all over again by its size. Shal had never been in close proximity to a dragon, and she felt an unreasonable terror creeping through her body as she stared up at the gigantic beast. She realized as she looked on that her fear was not from the creature’s presence but rather from the thread of a memory that was slowly being drawn across her mind.”.. . Beware of the dragon of bronze.” It took her a moment to recall the context in which she had heard the words, but then suddenly she remembered. Ranthor had spoken of the dragon! As he fought with Denlor to defeat the masses of monsters and humanoids that scrabbled at the tower’s walls, he had warned her about the dragon of bronze!

At almost the same moment as Shal realized there might be good reason for her fear, Tarl became aware that the Hammer of Tyr, which he was holding at his side, was glowing bright blue in his hand. He could feel more than see the pulsing energy within the hammer, and he caught a glimpse of the dragon blinking as the hammer’s rays reflected in its eyes.

“That thing you’re carrying …” the dragon said innocently. “It’s hurting my eyes. Can you cover it, please?”

Tarl lifted the hammer toward the dragon. “The light of the Hammer of Tyr should be soothing to you or any other good creature of the Realms.”

Ren interrupted before the dragon could reply. “Where’s the body you want disposed of?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, the body,” said the dragon, turning its head away from the light. “It’s here behind me. The Lord of the Ruins died along with several of his minions. Only two escaped.” The dragon shifted its bulk to one side. Behind it were several charred bodies, piled together in a heap like sacks of flour. “I was finally able to break his—”

“The Black Watch!” Ren exclaimed suddenly. Despite the damage done by the dragon’s lightning breath, the chain mail on the bodies remained intact, and those Ren could see bore the sign of the mercenary guild employed by Cadorna. “Those are soldiers of the Black Watch, not—”

“And the dragon is the Lord of the Ruins,” whispered Shal, starting to back away.

Ren shook his head.

“Try to get one of the ioun stones” Shal whispered. “A good dragon wouldn’t care.”

Ren nodded his head imperceptibly, then turned back to face the dragon. “Which one of the bodies belongs to the Lord of the Ruins?” he asked as he walked to the inner curve of the crescent, the side of the pool opposite the dragon, as if to examine the bodies from that angle.

“He’s at the bottom of the heap,” answered the dragon. “He was the first to die.”

Ren knew at that moment that the dragon was lying. Mercenaries such as those of the Black Watch would go to their deaths in hopes of treasure, but the minute their employer was killed, they had no reason to stick around. Ren also saw, as he came closer, that the necks of the soldiers had been sliced, and their blood was draining into the brilliant waters of the pool. Ren stepped up to the hexagon at the crux of the crescent, noticing that it was just like the one in the diorama on the gnoll altar. Ioun stones were set in place at four of its six corners, while two empty sockets stood gaping, waiting to be filled. “That’s quite a collection of ioun stones,” he said, reaching his hand out toward the hexagon.

In a move of exceptional dexterity for so large a creature, the dragon swiveled its entire body to face the ranger. “Yes… remarkable, aren’t they?”

Ren pulled Right from his boot. “I expect you’ve heard that I have an ioun stone” said Ren softly.

Avarice spread over the dragon’s previously composed features. “Yes… so I’ve heard.” The change in its manner was not even subtle. There was a definite edge in its voice, a demanding quality. Suddenly the dragon snaked its tongue out at Ren and hissed, “Give it to me… or die!”

The dragon thrust its huge head and neck across the pool toward Ren, its jaws wide open. Ren hurled Right at the creature, diving and rolling before his release was even complete. At that moment, a thundering bolt of electricity shot from the creature’s gaping mouth and exploded against the wall behind where Ren had just stood. At the same time, the dragon bellowed in pain and anger as the dagger buried itself to the hilt in its right eye. Quickly Ren scrambled to his feet and sprinted around the pool to the dragon’s flank, the only place where he might be safe from the creature’s flailing tail.

The dragon spun back toward Ren, pivoting its giant mass of flesh as though it were weightless. Ren hurried to keep close to the creature’s flanks, all the while attacking mercilessly with his short swords, jabbing and chopping at the tenderest flesh on the dragon’s scaly body. Somehow he managed to keep close enough to the dragon that the creature could not use its breath weapons on him for fear of hurting itself.

Shal had not expected the dragon’s reaction to be nearly so quick or so violent, and she was terrified for Ren, who kept scrabbling to keep himself just barely out of the dragon’s reach. Shal had never fought a dragon before, but she knew the lore: Creatures of lightning could not be hurt by lightning. She extended her hands toward the dragon and rushed through the words to a spell she had memorized but never tried before. Instantly a gray-blue cone of bitter cold extended from the palm of her hand to the exposed side of the dragon. Within the radius of the cone’s circle, the dragon’s scales immediately began to turn white, popping and snapping with the extreme cold. The dragon let out a roar and spun to attack the new offender.

Tarl leaped in front of Shal, the Hammer of Tyr extended before him. The dragon’s lightning bolt ricocheted from the hammer to the pool and back again for several deafening, blinding seconds. The dragon roared in frustration as the lightning grew in intensity, still trapped between the hammer and the pool. So strong was its energy that it was all Tarl could do to maintain his grip on the magical artifact.