Pools of Darkness (17 page)

“Someone’s singing and fighting at the same time?” Talenthia tried to make a joke.

“That’s no song, that’s a war chant.” Ren spurred his horse toward the noise. “Men of Tyr sing such chants, but only when they’re in battle and think they’re going to die! Follow me!”

Talenthia, eager to follow the ranger’s lead, spurred her horse after Ren’s.

Evaine and Gamaliel didn’t move.

“Well,” Andoralson asked as he rode up to Evaine, “you heard what the fearless leader ordered. What’s stopping you?”

“I never rush into battle, ever. If that sword-swinging lout wants to hurl himself into a trap, that’s up to him, but it’s not my style. And you?”

“Oh, I’m with Ren because I can tell he’s lucky. My god has ordered me to aid him. But I always do things my way, too.” Without another word, he spurred his mount far to the right of the others. As he did so a blue mist surrounded Andoralson and his horse.

Wondering how they had gotten into this, Evaine sighed in frustration. “Well, Gamaliel, there’s no getting around it. If we’re going to use Ren to find the pool, we have to tag along.”

“You don’t like the big ranger much, do you, mistress?”

She and Gamaliel galloped after the group, their horses nearly in step. “No, my feelings aren’t a matter of liking,” she told him. “I trusted him right away. It’s just that he has so many rough edges. There is no logic to the man, just raw emotion. I don’t understand his type. Let’s hope he doesn’t get us into something you and I can’t get us out of.”

Evaine and Gamaliel galloped through the woods. The sounds of battle grew louder as they approached a secluded clearing. Broken tombstones littered the field, and the ruins of a small, ancient temple lay at the north of the graveyard. Five crumbling mausoleums stood like stone guardians around the weedy perimeter.

The raging battle was an awful sight. A tall warrior, armored from head to toe, stood in front of the largest mausoleum. The door to the stone structure had been ripped off its hinges. The knight stood surrounded by undead creatures that were erupting out of their graves.

Ren and Talenthia held their ground in the thick of the swarm, fighting off heavily armored skeletons. Andoralson waded into a nearby group of zombie warriors whose skin and clothing hung in tatters.

The huge knight in the middle of the fray chanted praises to his god, Tyr. Something about the knight suggested to Evaine that he was a paladin, a warrior eternally devoted to the cause of good, but there was something peculiar about the way he fought. His style of fighting made her uneasy, although she couldn’t put her feeling into words.

The sorceress dismounted, turned her horse toward the woods, and slapped its flank. Gamaliel did exactly the same, and the horses trotted into the woods together. Evaine never cast spells from the back of an animal. A mere twitch could ruin a spell or hurtle its effects toward a comrade.

The sorceress’s senses tingled. She quickly decided on a course of action that would turn the tide of battle without endangering her comrades.

“Gamaliel, creep up to the edge of the battle and keep these monsters at bay while I prepare a few spells.”

“Mistress, I hope these friends are worth our effort—but I will do as you command.”

Evaine smiled grimly, amused by his attitude. She told herself to chide him later for being so catty. For now, there was work to be done.

Still on his horse, Ren rode deeper into the battle. Summing up the situation, he decided to aid the outnumbered knight. He crashed Stolen through a throng of skeletons and took off several heads, calling out, “Need some help, warrior?”

The knight before him was covered in a finely wrought suit of plate mail. Glowing gauntlets and a magical helmet completed the suit. Ren was impressed by the craftsmanship of the armor, but there was no time for admiration. The knight sang his reply to Ren while in the middle of his death chant to Tyr.

“Freely offered aid from an able fighter,

Gladly accepted, makes this knight’s work lighter.”

During the old battles on the walls of Phlan, Ren had heard such chants from the warrior-clerics of Tyr. Ballads composed in battle were a last chance to prove devotion and praise their deity. Such songs were raised only when a worshiper of Tyr truly believed he was about to die. Ren didn’t question why this knight was chanting. The odds looked grim.

Talenthia called down bolts of lighting. Each one destroyed two or three of the skeletons and zombies. But the vile creatures continued to rise out of their graves in ever-widening circles around the mausoleums.

“Retreat!” Andoralson screamed, charging into the battle. He threw a handful of dust into the grass around his horse. A bluish purple haze arose, blanketing the grasses ahead of him, moving in a rippling wave toward the undead warriors. The tinted grass twisted into ropy tentacles, reaching for the loathsome zombies and dragging them, still struggling, to the ground. The bodies of the walking dead were crushed to powder.

Near the edge of the battle, Gamaliel’s voice also boomed “Retreat!” as his weapon chopped one skeleton after another in half.

Evaine launched two lightning bolts of her own, cutting wide paths into the steadily growing mass of undead. The monsters that weren’t fighting Ren and his allies were lining up to battle the knight, who stood like a great, rooted statue at the open door of the tomb.

Looking over the battle, Ren saw that too many creatures were rising from the ground, and they were no longer just skeletons and zombies. Hideous creatures of shadow, misty wraiths with glowing red eyes, and ghostly spectres were also answering the call of battle.

The graveyard filled with green streaks and blue sparks as Evaine and Andoralson cast one spell after another at the undead monsters. Sparks bounced in the grass. Monster after monster succumbed to magical blasts.

Both spellcasters turned their attacks to the wraiths and spectres. These ghastly things were far more deadly than the other creatures and easier to kill magically than by swordplay. If they didn’t act swiftly, one of their companions might become victims of the monsters’ spectral talons. Ren spurred Stolen. Crunching through the mounds of bones and dashing to the warrior’s side, he shouted, “Knight, retreat!”

A reply came in the knight’s chant.

“I wait the coming, the coming of one,

The thousand-year old one, when battle will be done.”

Ren’s frustration at the knight’s refusal quickly turned to horror. A deep, throbbing voice filled the air.

“Then wait no longer, chanting fool!” A black mist rose from the ground just outside the clearing. “You and I will finish this, Miltiades. This time I will win.”

The mist swirled, forming the night-black ghost of a ghastly warrior. The spectral fighter rode a nightmare horse of writhing, dark smoke. The beast pawed the earth with vaporous hooves. Huge chunks of grassy earth flew in all directions. The ghost, vaguely human, drew a saber of extraordinary length. The weapon glowed as black fire danced up and down its blade. The sword looked to dispense death at a touch.

Every undead creature in the graveyard turned and bowed to the mist warrior. Taking advantage of the sudden lull in the battle, Talenthia and Andoralson tore into the monsters, swinging weapons furiously, destroying three or four creatures with every blow.

Evaine and Gamaliel stood nearest the night-black ghost. Wave upon wave of evil radiated from the eyes and body of the spectral warrior and its mount. Evaine conjured numerous spells of protection, creating layers of green magic around herself and Gamaliel.

The ghost warrior stared at the huge knight in plate mail armor. “Miltiades,” it groaned, its voice guttural. “Do we fight alone, paladin, or shall I empower my army to kill your friends?”

“We fight alone, ancient one. The living beings will not interfere.” This last was directed at Ren.

The ranger nodded in agreement. “So be it, paladin.” But Ren and Stolen continued destroying the horde of skeletons by bashing them with steel-shod hooves and Ren’s magical blade.

Following their lead, Gamaliel waded into the still-kneeling masses of undead, cutting and chopping. No creatures would remain to attack if the knight lost.

Evaine created missiles of magical energy. Streams of green sparks spewed from her fingertips, killing over a dozen zombies at a time. The creatures did not fight, they knelt meekly, oblivious to their certain doom.

Miltiades, the mysterious knight, marched to the edge of the clearing to face the ghost warrior. The warrior of Tyr no longer chanted.

The knight’s shield blazed with a blue glow; the symbol of Tyr engraved upon it glowed golden. Miltiades’s war helmet hummed with a protective power all its own, bathing the knight in a foggy blue mist. An enormous sword—one that most men would have had to wield with two hands—was easily swung in one hand by the knight. The blade was etched end to end in runes.

The ghost warrior calmly sat astride his vaporous mount, his saber dripping black fire.

The knight of Tyr struck first. Rolling low, he cut the legs out from under the ghost horse. His sword blasted a shower of blue sparks as the blade severed the front legs of the mount. The beast fell forward and the ghost warrior tumbled to the ground, then rolled up on his feet. The horse vanished with a blood-curdling cry of pain.

“Puts us on more even footing, Zarl!”

“Though you are a paladin, you never were an honorable fighter, Miltiades. Let us finish this.”

Blades crashed as the two swung and parried. Miltiades was engulfed in a blue aura that hummed when it touched the ghost’s black mist. The battle was evenly matched. Neither landed a blow for long minutes.

The rest of the group found it difficult to keep their attention on the undead creatures that surrounded them. None had ever seen a battle like the fight between these two mysterious warriors. But the five companions finally succeeded in destroying the hundreds of undead in the graveyard. In minutes, bones and withered body parts lay ankle-deep all over the clearing. Ren, the druids, Gamaliel, and Evaine were all exhausted and gasping for breath after the massacre.

The five retreated to the opposite end of the clearing to watch the final battle. Evaine magically levitated herself and Gamaliel to the roof of one of the mausoleums to gain a better view.

The two enemies were beginning to land their blows. Every time the black blade struck, bits of ebony flame left the sword to strike the paladin or sizzle to the ground. Wherever the flames landed, the grass withered and the moist topsoil turned to dust.

Both combatants expended themselves fully, taking titanic swipes at each other with their enchanted blades. Both were remarkably skilled, but this battle was not one of finesse and swordplay. Each wanted the other dead with a fury. Every ounce of muscle and energy was poured into the battle.

Unencumbered by a physical body, the ghost warrior moved faster and faster, circling around the knight. The black flaming sword landed too often, ringing against the paladin’s armor. Each strike seemed softened by the blue mist coming from the knight’s war helmet. But the blue mist was fading; it grew thinner and thinner with every strike, as the protective energies of the helmet were eaten away by the flames of the black sword.

“He’s going to lose! I’m casting a—”

“No!” Ren shouted, grabbing at Evaine’s foot, which dangled over the side of the mausoleum. Gamaliel, even quicker, pounced off the structure to tower between the spellcaster and Ren. His big hands found Ren’s neck. “You must never touch her!”

Evaine leaped off the crypt and yanked at Gamaliel. “You can’t attack Ren!” The barbarian realized what he was doing and dropped his grip instantly. Ren choked, but he hadn’t been harmed. The ranger reeled back, trying to find his words.

“If we don’t do something, the paladin will die,” Evaine insisted.

Ren glared deep into Gamaliel’s eyes. For the first time, he noticed their deep golden color and catlike pupils. But the revelation was lost in his fury.

“This is an affair of honor,” the ranger croaked through bruised vocal cords. “Whatever happens, you must not interfere. We can fight and defeat this creature together if the paladin falls, but first we must give the paladin a chance to win.”

The battle between the strange warriors raged. The paladin knew he was losing. He wasn’t fast enough to keep up with the steadily moving ghost. More and more of the evil blade strikes found their marks. In a desperate move, the paladin threw down his magical shield and gripped his weapon with both hands.

The ghost shouted with glee and swung his blade to cut into the discarded shield. Black flame met holy power and, with a loud ringing, the shield was split in two. But the ruined halves of the shield stuck fast to the blade. The ghost’s misty face showed his shock and anger as he awkwardly tried to recover his weapon. The paladin struck, cleaving the ghost from head to thigh.

The only audible sound to mark the passing of the ghost was a soft, “No, not again.” The warrior spirit shriveled into a thin black mist and evaporated.

The paladin fell to his knees, gripping the broken remains of the shield. Instead of a cry of joy at his victory, the knight murmured, “What have I done? What have I done with the gift of Tyr? I should have known Zarl would attack the shield when I threw it down.”

“What would have happened if you hadn’t thrown down the shield?” Ren now crouched quietly in the grass behind the knight. The others stood behind him.

The paladin turned to look at the five strangers. “After my destruction, Zarl would have easily defeated all of you. He would have then used his evil to raise an indestructible undead army and sweep the continent. His goal would have been to destroy every living thing in Faerun, even if it took a thousand years. He was evil and destructive in life, and he remains so in death.”

Andoralson expressed his compassion for the knight. “I believe Tyr would think one holy relic was worth the lives of millions of people. Don’t you agree?”

Talenthia bent down to help the paladin to his feet. “Take off that heavy helm and let me see your wounds. I’d be happy to heal you, if you’ll allow me.”