Pool of Radiance (29 page)

“You have a great mind, Councilman.”

“Thank you, Gensor.” Cadorna wagged a finger in the air. “And now for the second part of the question—the Lord of the Ruins. I know that he’s a dragon—oddly enough, a bronze dragon. I can’t imagine what would possess a good dragon to go quite so far afield, but I guess it must simply have sensed greater room for power in the control of humanoids….”

Gensor had heard other rumors, but he wasn’t about to spoil Cadorna’s fun. “Yes?”

“Well, any decently armed troop of warriors with a magic-user or two can defeat a dragon, and for whatever reason, the pool doesn’t seem to give it control over humans. I’ll lead a party there myself, confront the wyrm, kill it, and complete the figure of power for myself.”

The mage literally clapped, his admiration genuine. How Cadorna managed to gather so much information eluded him. Perhaps one day he would make Cadorna tell him….

“You’ve been before this council before,” said Cadorna sternly, condescendingly, as he peered down at Shal, Ren, and Tarl from his dais. “And for the same offense, no less. I have no choice but to send you on an even more dangerous mission.” Cadorna went on to tell the three what he wanted them to know about Yarash.

“How do you know this sorcerer is responsible for the pollution of the Barren River?” Ren demanded belligerently. “And if you know, why haven’t you done anything about it before now?”

Cadorna sighed. “The council sent seven groups upriver before an orc spy told me of Yarash. None of the groups returned.” Cadorna looked up at the big man, his gray eyes pleading for sympathy. “I allowed the tragedy to continue because I was afraid for the lives of any who might try to stop the sorcerer. You must understand, I am sending the three of you only because your reputation precedes you.” Cadorna waved his hand to the south with a flourish. “Look at Sokol Keep! Untold numbers died there before you succeeded. And the gnoll encampment … I expected you to return with my treasure. Imagine my surprise when others came back with news that the gnolls had been vanquished completely. The three of you have a formidable reputation. You are perhaps the only ones capable of defeating the sorcerer.”

Tarl spoke next. “We all have personal obligations that go wanting as you send us on these tasks, Second Councilman. Do we have a choice in this matter?”

“You most certainly do. You were arrested for brawling. Naturally you may wait in our holding cells until midnight, at which time the Black Watch will toss you over the north wall, and you will be banished from Civilized Phlan … permanently.”

The glint in Cadorna’s eyes was noticeable even to Tarl. He spoke no more.

“Defeat the wizard,” Cadorna went on, “and you will be hailed as heroes. I personally will see to it that the town council bothers you no more. The young mage”— Cadorna pointed toward Shal but addressed Ren and Tarl, as if she could not comprehend his words—”may be interested in speaking with Yarash. He was known to have consorted with the wizard Denlor.”

Tarl turned his gaze from Cadorna to Shal, watching for her reactions. The town guards had arrived before he could tell her about his meeting with Tyr in the inner sanctuary of the temple. Tarl had learned three things there: that an ioun stone would greatly enhance his powers so he could heal Shal; that Anton would not recover until the one who spat the word into his forehead was defeated; and that his own immediate calling was to follow Shal. The message from his god was clear—Shal’s mission would lead Tarl to his own. “As Tyr has directed me, I will follow Shal,” he declared.

Shal didn’t understand the full implication of Tarl’s words. She thought only that her friend was assuring her of his loyalty to her cause of avenging Ranthor’s death. Tarl had already done a great deal. Without his healing, she knew, she would be dead. Shal now felt a total rejuvenation of spirit and physical health, and she was forced to recognize a very special feeling for Tarl that she had not acknowledged before. “I’ve made my decision,” she announced. “For me, there is no choice but to go.”

“I personally find bashing it out with sorcerers— especially very powerful ones—a real treat,” said Ren sarcastically, and then he turned serious. “If you’re right about what that wizard’s doing to the river, he’s dead meat.”

“Good! Then it’s settled,” said Cadorna. “Be on your way by the tenth hour tomorrow morning. Godspeed and good luck.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the three from the council chambers.

Ren, Shal, Tarl, and their two horses left Phlan from the docks, choosing to travel by a small single-masted ferry around the mouth of the Barren River, rather than risk trying to cross its foul waters where the river doubled back on itself north of Phlan. More than two hours after they debarked, they could see the high walls of Valhingen Graveyard off to the west.

“That’s the place where my brothers died,” said Tarl, pointing at the high timber fence. “In Vaasa, there is no city as large as Phlan. We believed at first that those wooden walls were the fortress around the city. We were already within the gates before we knew….”

Shal and Ren said nothing. The pain of Tarl’s recollection was palpable.

“I will return here and, with Tyr’s help, fight the vile creature that tricked me into parting with the Hammer of Tyr.”

“You lost the hammer?” asked Shal, aware that Tarl had previously made oblique references only to the fact that the hammer was lost in the graveyard.

Tarl made no response at first, then began haltingly to describe the full horrors of his first day in Phlan. The time since that day had weighed heavily on Tarl, and he felt a rush of cleansing energy just from speaking truthfully about his encounter in Valhingen Graveyard. He described each moment he had omitted from his earlier descriptions—his terror when the skeleton hands had reached up and gutted the horses, how he had forgotten the words to clerical spells he had known for a year or longer, the fight—enchanted word cast against cursed word—between Anton and the vampire, and finally how he had foolishly given up the hammer in exchange for freedom instead of using it to fight the vampire.

By the time he finished, he realized they had ridden past miles of countryside, and he had seen none of it. The others had remained silent throughout his tale. It was only after they stopped for the night, when Tarl told them his plan for retrieving the hammer, that Ren spoke.

“You’ll never get through that place alone,” Ren said as he unpacked the mare. “As soon as we get this river cleaned up, I’ll go with you.”

Tarl turned from where he stood unpacking Cerulean and faced Ren. “No, friend. This is my fight. The ruler of Valhingen Graveyard holds in his hands my heritage and my pride. I must seek vengeance for my lost brothers, and I must take back that which belongs in the most holy place in the Temple of Tyr.”

“I’m not saying you don’t have an appointment to meet up with that vampire,” said Ren. “I’m saying you won’t make it to his lair without help. How many of your brothers—men strong in their faith—died before you even saw the vampire? What do you think—you’re going to say, ‘Take me to your leader,’ and the skeletons and wraiths are going to bow and let you walk by?”

“With Tyr’s strength—”

“With Tyr’s strength, you’ll face the vampire after you’ve let me help you get past the riffraff.”

“And me,” said Shal. “I’ll help, too.”

Tarl simply shook his head. He would not endanger the others. He would challenge the vampire on his own, but there was no point in arguing the fact. He would make his move when they returned.

For now, he sat down across from Shal and thanked Tyr once again for sparing her. His assignment from his god was too much of a pleasure to be a burden: Shal’s mission would lead to his own. In her, he would find strength. He watched for a time as she diligently studied her spellbooks. Then he looked to his own books and began to think about what he must do in the days ahead.

Shal, too, was thinking—about facing Yarash. She didn’t think she had mistaken the combination of awe and animosity Cadorna felt toward the wizard. She felt this challenge would possibly be for her what facing the vampire would be for Tarl—surely not a personal challenge such as his, but a test of newfound strengths and skills against an experienced sorcerer. Shal had grown much in her magic in the short time since Ranthor’s death, but Yarash was, from Cadorna’s accounts, a wizard with talents that perhaps rivaled even Ranthor’s. Cadorna insisted the wizard was not evil but crazy, and that he would attack on a whim, in keeping with his own chaotic nature. Spell against spell, Shal knew she could not hold up against so formidable a wizard. She could only hope that with the help of her friends, the Staff of Power, and her sheer physical strength, she would stand at least a chance.

By the time Shal woke up the next morning, nightmare dreams of violent lightning bolt feuds still fresh in her memory, Ren had already taken care of the horses and packed up everything except her bedroll and Tarl’s, which she noticed was teasingly close to her own. Ren held up his finger to his lips to shush Shal so she wouldn’t bother Tarl, then he reached out his hand to help her up. He continued to hold her hand even after she was standing and led her toward a clear brook that fed its pristine waters into the black bile of the Barren River.

“I’ve tried before to tell you…” Ren began awkwardly. “That is, before, I wanted…” Ren stopped again, groping for words. “You remind me so much …”

“Of Tempest. I know.” Shal looked down into the clear water. Every stone was visible, even in the deepest parts of the stream. The morning sunlight sparkled off the clear water and shone off the submerged leaves of the silverweed that lined the stream’s banks.

“I’ve wanted so many times to tell you how much I… But the other night, I finally put Tempest to rest, Shal. I said good-bye to her once and for all. I know that a part of what I’ve felt for you has been tied up with my feelings for her….”

Shal reached for Ren’s other hand and searched his sapphire-blue eyes with her own. “And now we can be friends and see where that takes us? Is that what you want to say?” Shal smiled and held Ren’s hands tightly in her own.

Ren had noticed Shal watching him a dozen times or more. He knew she was attracted to him. How could she so easily understand and accept that he was asking only to be friends? He had not wanted her to be hurt, but he had expected her to show at least a glimmer of regret. Yet here she was, smiling, her green eyes twinkling as though she were delighted with the news.

“I’m no fool, Ren. You should realize that by now. I know your stares and attention were really directed at a memory.”

Ren let his hands drop to his sides as Shal relaxed her grip on them.

“I’m happy to have the chance to be a friend to you on my own, without the help of your love for Tempest. I’ve appreciated your attention, really, but I always knew it wasn’t directed at me. Now, if there’s still some attraction between us, it should be genuine…. Besides, Sot introduced me to Jensena and tried to warn me I had some competition. I tried to tell him she’s more your type, but—”

“You … you sure have a way of putting a fellow in his place.”

“Ren, how do you expect me to react?” Shal tossed her red hair back over her shoulders and extended her hand toward the big man. “Friends … again?”

Ren clasped her hand firmly. “Friends … still … always.”

“A good enough friend to help against a crazy old wizard whose actions are no concern of yours?” Shal asked.

Ren didn’t answer right away. He waited till they were back at the camp near Tarl, who was just waking. “I don’t know just how Yarash is polluting the Stojanow River, but his actions are my concern, too. I can’t stand to see that river like that. There’s no reason why the Stojanow shouldn’t be as pure as that brook over there. Instead, it’s as black as night and reeks like some festering wound. It’s bothered me since the day I first saw it. My first thought was of a black snake surrounded by dead and dying plants and animals….

“As a thief, I could say it isn’t my affair, but I’m beginning to discover that rangering is a deeper part of me than I realized. I can’t ignore the state of this river any more than I could ignore that ruined garden back at the gnoll camp. I’m more committed to this mission than I have been to anything we’ve done so far.” Ren offered Tarl some water from his pouch and several strips of jerky, and then he helped Shal roll up her bedding.

Finally he mounted his horse and waited for Shal and Tarl to mount Cerulean. “I’ve decided to return to rangering,” Ren said softly.

Both Tarl and Shal turned in the saddle to face him.

“It’s a more difficult lifestyle, but it puts me closer to nature … and to myself. If I had followed my instincts, I probably would have made this trip weeks ago, when I first arrived in Phlan. Just look at that river! It doesn’t only look and smell dirty; it’s actually toxic. Somewhere upstream, it has to be pure, because dead fish float ashore, and you know nothing can possibly live in that water. It even permeates the land. Look at those gray tree trunks lining the riverbanks—a fire would do less damage.”

“Rangering is an honorable profession,” said Tarl. “I know not everyone chooses to be like a cleric in their spirituality, but I’d think you’d find comfort in the added fulfillment of being a ranger.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a calling, I guess. I mean, I have a natural knack with animals, and once I learned how to trail, I never forgot it. Besides, there’s something that drives me to see nature set right.”

Ren patted his horse as they rode. “This mare was abused, and her owner said she was worthless. I won her in a dagger toss. I never did anything special—just talked to her and treated her right—and she’s been the finest horse I’ve ever had.”

She sleeps around, interjected Cerulean. The mare whinnied, and Shal chuckled.

“How would you know?” Shal asked aloud.

Ren bridled at her words, thinking they were meant for him. “What’s wrong with my horse?”

“No, it’s … nothing,” Shal said quickly. “It’s Cerulean. He said …” Shal grinned weakly and then pointed at the mare. “He said your horse sleeps around.”