Pools of Darkness (15 page)

Evaine just laughed. “Gamaliel, the first catnip I see growing in the wild or available for sale at an apothecary is yours. I promise. You’ve earned it.”

The cat purred, rubbed against her leg, and the two set off through the woods once again.

By the way, mistress, why is it that you didn’t blast the whole lot of those ugly brutes with a lightning bolt? You could have killed them all with one spell. Gamaliel was already twenty yards ahead of the sorceress, but that didn’t affect his telepathy.

“I considered that option, but I was afraid I’d either fry you along with the bugbears, or set the woods on fire. So I opted for some less spectacular spells. And it was still an easy battle.”

The cat made his approval known and slinked through the underbrush.

Another night of camping passed uneventfully. Evaine and Gamaliel set up as usual, turned in early, and were back on the trail at first light. Evaine expected to link up with one of the major roads to Phlan late in the day. On the way she intended to buy two horses. She didn’t want to search for the road after dark.

The pair traveled quickly, with only a few stops for water and rest. By midafternoon, they broke through the trees and found themselves at the edge of a dirt road wide enough for two carts to pass in opposite directions. Evaine knew they had arrived at the right spot.

Before leaving the woods, Evaine took a long look at Gamaliel. She decided it would be better not to be seen with a giant cat, as it would attract too much attention. With a sigh, she said to her companion, “Gam, I think you’d better change. We’ll be safer if people think you’re human.”

The cat hissed in protest.

“Come on, Gamaliel, you know it’s necessary,” Evaine demanded. “Besides, it’s human form I want, not house-cat. That’s the form you really hate. This isn’t going to kill you.” The feline knew that change was the intelligent choice, and stopped grousing. He stepped away from Evaine, closing his eyes.

The pendant around the cat’s neck began to glow a pale green. Gamaliel’s tawny shape blurred. His furry body seemed to swirl and writhe, and then came into focus again. No longer was a cat standing in the woods, but a tall, wiry human male wearing clothing made of soft animal skins. The man had intense green eyes and sandy, shoulder-length hair. He moved with a smooth, fluid grace. On his hands were dark brown, kidskin gloves. Fingertips with sharp, tough claws protruded from the ends of the gloves. An enormous sword in a suede sheath was strapped to his back.

“Ah, now there’s a warrior,” Evaine said admiringly. “You’re a beautiful cat, Gam, but you’re a darn nice looking human. You’ll get used to this shape again in no time.”

Gamaliel said nothing, but followed his mistress out of the woods. They joined up with the road and saw that it was frequented by farmers, peasants, and pilgrims. The road wasn’t crowded but was certainly busy.

Evaine kept her eyes open for anyone with horses to sell. She passed on a few nags, but eventually spotted a pair of horses that looked healthy and well cared for. Before approaching the owner, she cast a quick mind-reading spell that allowed her to learn whether the horses were stolen.

She negotiated with the horse trader for a few minutes, reading his thoughts and learning that the horses were indeed in good health. They were his own and were for sale simply because his family needed the money. Evaine negotiated a good price, and in a few minutes, horses and money had traded hands. She and Gamaliel mounted the horses and galloped down the road.

By nightfall, the pair arrived at the ferry that would carry them over the Moonsea to Phlan. A nearby inn had a vacant room for the night, a luxury Evaine welcomed after a week in the woods. She and Gamaliel stabled the horses, got themselves settled, and prepared for a comfortable night’s sleep.

“We made it, Gamaliel. We’ll be in Phlan tomorrow. It should be easy going from here on in.”

Gamaliel replied with a peculiar purr that never sounded quite right coming from his human body.

Ren stood in the streets of New Phlan, staring out at the Moonsea. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead as hard as he could, wishing he could wipe away his confusion. Phlan was gone, Shal and Tarl were gone, and the new city council wanted him for a lackey. To make things worse, two druids who claimed to know him were following him around like baby ducks.

After leaving the council chambers, he had spent the past hour wandering the alleys of New Phlan. As often as he tried to change the subject or lose the druids among the tents, they always caught up to him or managed to turn the discussion back to the pool of darkness.

The ranger opened his eyes. Two faces stared at him quizzically. Ren groaned.

“Look, I know I owe you a favor for getting me out of the council meeting, but I work alone.” Ren was thoroughly irritated and couldn’t believe the pleading sound of his own voice. But at the same time, he felt as if he belonged with these two druids for some odd reason. To his displeasure, he remembered he’d had the same feeling the first time he met Tarl and Shal.

Talenthia took Ren’s hand. “But Sylvanus wants us—”

“I know, I know. You’ve told me a hundred times. I don’t mean any disrespect to your god, but he’ll just have to find another mission for you. I don’t have any grand plan. But when I decide what to do, I want to move fast. You’d just slow me down.” Ren shook his hand free, striding toward the corral. A workout with Stolen might help him to clear his head.

The druids followed. They had been ordered to help the ranger, and help him they would—whether he liked it or not.

The trio hurried through the alleys. Everywhere they looked, people begged from their makeshift tents. The citizens who had once been lively and energetic were now lethargic and dispirited from hunger and sadness. It was more than Ren, Talenthia, and Andoralson could bear.

As Talenthia watched Ren’s reaction to the poverty around them, she tried to reassure him. “Ren, we know how you feel about these people. We all want to help them, and the best way to make these people happy is to restore Phlan. You have that power, and we’re here to help you.”

Andoralson clamped a hand on Ren’s shoulder and stopped him. “This isn’t any easier for Talenthia and me. We have been directed by our god to help you. We intend to follow our orders.”

Ren paused, weighing what the druids had said. Maybe he was being too stubborn. He could see these two were powerful priests of their sect. They seemed as if they could take care of themselves. Would it hurt to have some help?

“All right. I can’t think of a solid reason to refuse your offer. If you agree to follow my orders, we’ll work together.” The ranger rubbed his forehead again. “Do you have any idea where old Phlan went?”

The cousins exchanged troubled looks. “No,” Talenthia began, “we tried to use our magic when we first heard of Phlan’s troubles, but something is blocking our spells. Sylvanus wouldn’t have sent us here if answers weren’t forthcoming. We found you easily. Andoralson and I both believe that we’ll link up with another to aid our quest.”

Ren rolled his eyes but said nothing. “Let’s head for the corral. I need to look in on my horse. Do you have horses there?”

The druids grinned at each other, sharing some secret joke.

“No, we don’t have horses. We move about by, uh, other means. But I would love to visit that big horse of yours. He’s a beautiful beast. I’d like him to tell me a few things about you.” Talenthia’s eyes sparkled as she teased Ren. The ranger made a face. He knew that druids had the ability to speak with animals.

“Talenthia, we have more important things to do,” Andoralson scolded.

She pouted at her cousin, but grabbed Ren’s arm. They all walked toward the river. On the way, Talenthia explained that she had talked with dozens of forest creatures about the disappearance of Phlan, but had learned nothing.

Cooking fires burned outside the ramshackle tents. The companions took their time walking to the corral, but as they approached the raft landing, an argument attracted their attention.

“But I’m not staying! Can’t you get that through your thick skull?” A petite sorceress dressed in a green tunic and deerskin leggings was losing patience with Lord Wainwright and his squad of guards. A tall barbarian warrior at her side was saying more with his posture than with words.

“I’ll bet she’s a powerful spellcaster, Talenthia. Do you notice the rhythm of her voice and the way she pronounces her words?”

“I do. And do you notice something unusual about the barbarian? I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s more to him than meets the eye. He’s ready to spring to defend her any second.”

All this was lost on Ren. From his vantage, all he had noticed were the sorceress’s long braid of red hair and her dazzling green eyes. He laughed a little as he watched the scene unfold. “This must be a bad week for that poor knight,” Ren chuckled to Talenthia. “First I gave him grief, and now that sorceress, who looks like she could blast them all to cinders if she wanted, is doing the same thing. I wonder if I should give the knight a hand, just to make up for my rough treatment yesterday?”

The argument grew louder as everyone watched. A crowd began to gather, but onlookers made room for the trio in front of the pack. Many of the people recognized Ren from the previous day. Whispers went through the crowd pointing out Ren’s presence, and the onlookers’ attention was split between Ren and the ongoing argument on the raft. The ranger would never have acknowledged the attention he was getting, but in Phlan, he was truly a figure of awe.

The sorceress was now speaking to the knight in simple sentences, perhaps thinking that his thick brain needed some help. “These are pack animals. They need to carry my supplies. How can I load them up if they’re in a corral a mile away from the supplies I’m buying?”

The sorceress had a point, but the Wainwrights weren’t known for their grasp of logic.

“Mistress, you must do what everyone else does. Corral your mounts and bring the supplies to them. Your man here looks strong enough to carry any number of supplies. Now be a nice little wizard and do as I say.” With that, the knight put his hands on her shoulders to forcibly guide her off the raft.

The woman twisted against his grip, and in less than the blink of an eye, an emerald spark the size of a grapefruit arced from her body to the metallic gauntlet of the knight. It blew him backward ten feet, right into his men. He lay stunned, looking at his smoking glove. The other guards promptly drew their weapons.

The barbarian at the sorceress’s side clutched a massive sword, ready to defend the woman. She simply waited, though the look on her face said, “There’s more where that came from.”

Ren knew the ten men were probably ready to die in order to obey their leader. This won’t do, he decided. No, this won’t do at all.

“Gentlemen. Lady. Please put up your weapons!”

Followed by the druids, Ren pushed his way into the mass of guards. All heads turned at the sound of his voice.

As the ranger helped the knight to his feet, he said, “We have to stop meeting like this, my friend.” A scorch mark the length of the knight’s chain mail gauntlet caught his attention. Lifting the knight’s visor, Ren saw the dazed warrior looking around confusedly.

Talenthia was suddenly at Ren’s side, casting a healing spell on the knight. His wound was instantly healed, his mind quickly cleared.

Andoralson stood behind his cousin, casting a strange illusionary spell that created great sparks and blasts of fire flashing in the sky above the crowd. The people moved away in fear and awe. The guards froze. The sorceress was staring at the three strangers. She had produced a magical staff and was obviously ready for any type of action. Her companion’s lips were curled in a hiss, but he stood his ground.

The druids each cast a spell of protection as they separated and hurried to either side of the troops. Ren smiled in spite of himself. It was almost as if they had been fighting with him for years.

“Enangusfusisus!” Andoralson cast another spell. Suddenly there were five duplicates of him, moving toward the guards.

The confused watchmen were trying to look everywhere at once. Druids casting spells, a sorceress zapping their leader, and a barbarian ready to cleave them apart—it was all just too much. They looked at each other as if to say, “I’ll surrender if you will!” To further complicate the matter, a former hero of Phlan was against them. They knew when they were beaten.

Lord Wainwright had completely lost control of the situation, and he knew it. He struggled to regain what little dignity he could. “Never mind the illusions, troops. Mistress, I admit I shouldn’t have touched you, and I apologize.”

The spellcaster sighed, giving him a nod in acknowledgement of his apology.

Wainwright cleared his throat. “But your barbarian friend will please sheath his weapon and you will take your horses to the corral. If you don’t comply, I can’t take responsibility for the blood that will spill.”

The sorceress sized up the troops, knowing they could never stand up to her magic and Gamaliel’s sword. “This should have never gotten this far,” she responded evenly. “If you insist, I’ll stable my animals. Where is the corral, please?”

When the barbarian sheathed his weapon, Ren nodded to the druids. They turned to slip out of the crowd.

The sorceress maintained her composure, but smiled to herself as the throng opened to let the three strangers by. She observed looks of respect on the faces of the people as the ranger passed.

As she prepared to leave the raft, the spellcaster made an attempt to be gracious to the knight. “Good warrior, you have my apology for my hasty actions. Can you tell me who that ranger was?” She flashed her friendliest smile at him.

Pleased by this change of attitude, Lord Wainwright spoke up. “Oh, that was Ren ‘o the Blade. He’s famous throughout Phlan. He and his friends discovered the pool of radiance ten years ago and killed the dragon that guarded it. They made Phlan a safer place to live—until the thrice-damned gods took our city away, that is.”