Pools of Darkness (11 page)

Arriving at the bay sooner than he had expected, Ren’s attention was drawn to a campfire. Two druids rose to meet him.

“Finally, you’ve come! The fish is almost ruined,” said a tall man. He turned from Ren and bent over a campfire to examine several bass sizzling in a large pan.

The woman directed her attention to Ren. “Please don’t mind him. My cousin has a passion for food. We guessed you would get here by lunchtime. I am so happy we were right.”

Ren stared. He was completely surprised that these people thought they knew him, but he also stared for another reason. The woman was nothing less than gorgeous. Short in stature but with an ample figure filling her druid robes, her skin was browned from the sun and her long brown hair fell in a shower around her hips. She had a way of looking at Ren that made him strangely uncomfortable.

“I am called Ren o’ the Blade,” he said, feeling self-conscious. “You must be mistaking me for someone else. You couldn’t have known I was going to be here. I didn’t know myself until I started riding.” The ranger dismounted, wanting to get a better look at these two strangers.

Stolen bowed his head to the woman, something that surprised Ren, especially since the war-horse had never been trained to do such a thing. The woman produced a huge apple from somewhere in her robes and offered it to the horse. Stolen accepted it, enamored of the woman, much to Ren’s dismay.

Without looking up from his cooking fire, the other druid spoke. “Please forgive my manners for not greeting you properly.” He moved a pan of fish off the fire and straightened up to face Ren. “My name is Andoralson, and this lady is my cousin, Talenthia. We have been sent to help you find Phlan and return it to its proper place. What plans do you have?”

The woman scowled at her cousin, looking exasperated. “You could wait until he’s had his lunch. He doesn’t even know us. We owe him an explanation, at the very least.”

Ren looked back and forth at the two strangers, completely confused and not knowing what to think. The ranger couldn’t decide whether to trust them, although he found himself wanting to like them.

Stolen, on the other hand, knelt in the grass near the woman. Ren sighed; his steed looked more like a wide-eyed puppy than a noble war-horse. But animals usually had a sense about such things. Beside that, the fish smelled great. Fresh cooked food was something he could appreciate. He decided to give in, at least for now.

Ren reached into Stolen’s saddlebags and brought out a large flask. “Um, I think this wine from Vaasa should go well with your fish,” he said, still not quite comfortable.

“Just the thing to complete the meal,” Talenthia said with a smile. She produced three wondrously crafted wooden chalices from a wicker hamper.

Serving up the fish on huge leaves, Andoralson told their story. “We’ve been sent here by our god, Sylvanus. Until now, my cousin and I have been traveling Faerun looking for a forest to call our own. But in many recent dreams, the plight of Phlan was made known to us. Phlan’s disappearance has disturbed the equity of nature. Sylvanus tells us you have the best chance of restoring Phlan and restoring the balance.”

Ren was still somewhat stunned. Talenthia handed him a leaf loaded with fish, winking at the ranger. Her robes parted slightly as she moved, and Ren noticed green chain mail under her gown. How the woman could show such a fine figure weighted down under chain mail, Ren couldn’t guess. But he didn’t mind speculating.

The ranger held his fish in his hands, wondering what to say. “I—I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he stammered. “I have no plan. I only want to find out what’s happened to my friends.”

“But we believe the evil gods have stolen Phlan. We must do what we can to set things right.” Talenthia’s voice was pleading.

The last thing Ren wanted was to attract the attention of angry gods. “I’m a ranger, and I love the land as much as you do, but I care nothing for the affairs of gods. Besides, I prefer to work alone.”

This last was said in deliberate rebuff to the pair before him. The man appeared to be a capable adventurer, but Ren didn’t like his lecturing tone. The woman was far too distracting to be anything but trouble on the trail.

“I don’t believe you have the proper frame of mind, ranger,” Andoralson said. He savored every bite of fish as if it were some exotic food. For some reason, Ren found this annoying.

“What my cousin means is that we have been ordered to help you. We only want to restore nature’s balance. You can understand that, can’t you?” Talenthia was difficult for Ren to resist, but resist he continued to do.

The ranger wiped his hands on the grass. “I want to thank you both for the delicious meal, but I must go visit with the town council. I appreciate your offer, but you and your god will have to find Phlan without me. I don’t have any plans right now, but I like to move as opportunities arise. You two would just slow me down.”

The ranger gave them the friendliest smile he could muster, mounted Stolen, and waved good-bye.

Talenthia watched until Ren and his horse became specks in the distance. “Wasn’t he handsome, Andoralson? I’m so glad Sylvanus sent us to help him.”

“Talenthia, why must you always flirt? If they’re tall and have a little gray hair, you fall all over them.” Her cousin was obviously irritated, but he attempted to put his feelings aside. “He appears very confident. I like the fact that he didn’t jump at our offer. We obviously have to prove ourselves to this one. The town council session ought to do it, don’t you think?”

“Just what we need, Cousin. We should pack our gear and get moving.” The woman’s eyes twinkled. “And don’t act as if you’ve never flirted before!” Her cousin blushed. The druids spoke a magical syllable and were instantly transformed into huge golden eagles. Lifting into the air, they set out for the council. They would arrive there long before Ren.

The ranger was deeply troubled. He tried to put the pair of druids out of his thoughts, but the woman’s figure kept slipping into his mind. Gods, she was beautiful.

“Stolen, let’s get back to the tents. I want to be in New Phlan long before the sun sets!”

The huge horse galloped across the grasslands at its best speed. Its massive, rippling muscles tirelessly carried the pair across the land.

Stolen slowed as they approached the river. Ren urged him to leap into the water. Rider and mount landed with a gigantic splash. Both enjoyed the cool relief.

Ren wiped the sweaty foam off Stolen. “What a great beast you are,” Ren told the animal as he cleaned the horse in the waters of the river. He led Stolen to the bank. The horse balked slightly when it saw that it was headed for the corral, but Ren’s urging got the animal moving.

Heading for the gate, the ranger sensed more than saw another group of guards waiting among the tents. He could have avoided them, but such cowardly behavior wasn’t his way. He preferred direct confrontations. He threw his saddle and other gear onto the pile of equipment at the side of the corral and handed the stable boy a silver coin.

“Take good care of my horse and feed him an extra ration of oats tonight. There is a chance I won’t be visiting him for a while.”

Ren saw the boy’s eyes widen as he looked at the coin and then beyond the ranger. The fighter turned to face several knights and a horde of town watchmen.

“Ren o’ the Blade. You will come with us to Lord Bartholomew. My commander didn’t say what condition you had to be in, and we would all welcome a fight.” The rough leader of the knights gripped his sword eagerly.

“Am I charged with a crime?” Ren asked evenly. Some of the guards had surrounded him, but they kept their distance. A crowd of tent-dwellers had formed around the entire group. Some showed open hostility toward the guards, but most of them just looked on, curious.

“Resisting arrest, refusing an order from a councilman, obstructing justice, and a hundred others. Besides, I don’t really need a charge to pummel you senseless, ranger. How do you want it?”

“I’ll come quietly,” Ren responded. Then he raised his voice to all the people gathered nearby. “You all know me. I fought on the walls of Phlan and killed the bronze dragon that plagued your city. I do not deserve to be treated like a common thief. I will come now, but I will take the hand of the first man who tries to bind me.” With this, Ren started walking. In a heartbeat, a faintly glowing dagger appeared in his hand for all to see. In the next moment, the dagger disappeared. The simple sleight of hand was enough to impress many of the onlookers and several of the guards.

“We don’t need to bind you,” the lead knight called out. It seemed to be an attempt to counteract Ren’s statement. “My men and I are more than capable of bringing you to justice.”

Ren strolled along, head high. He smirked, wondering who was bringing whom, but kept silent.

Deep in the heart of ramshackle New Phlan, Ren was ushered to a mounded palisade of wood and earth. What the ranger saw was a keep of sorts, meant to be a last ditch defense if the tent city was attacked. Ren was impressed. He was ordered into the center of the compound, where he discovered a large white tent. Inside, he met the new council of Phlan.

“Why has this ranger been brought to me wearing weapons?” The speaker was a tall, thin knight in expensive, gleaming armor. He was obviously nobility, and Ren knew he faced Lord Bartholomew. The other councilmen were seated around a large table. Ren saw Anton sitting in the tenth councilman’s seat, and for the first time since the encounter with the guards, he found some joy in the impossible situation. The cleric of Tyr would not fail the ranger.

“I wasn’t brought to you, Lord. I came myself. I am wearing my weapons because I was not made aware of any charge against me. Has the council of Phlan changed so much that an innocent man must stand like a criminal, unarmed, before them?”

“What I have heard of you seems to be true, Ren o’ the Blade. I am Lord Bartholomew, first councilman of New Phlan. My city needs brave heroes like yourself to help rebuild. I would make you one of my highest lords.”

“I didn’t come here to become a gate guard of a town with no gates. I have come for information regarding my two friends. Maybe you have heard of them—the warrior cleric Tarl and the wizard Shal Bal?”

“Bah, they were of old Phlan. The gods took the city for their own reasons. We have to think of the future. We have to build New Phlan into a greater city than the old one ever was. Now, are you with us or against us?”

Ren was stunned. This man was actually ready to forget Phlan. Lord Bartholomew was too pushy for his taste. This first councilman was a far cry from the type of leader the new city would need.

Anton tried to signal Ren to remain calm, but the ranger didn’t care right now who he offended. “I’m going after my friends wherever the quest takes me. I will not be stopped.”

“Stopped? I will do much more than stop you if I must, ranger. You can be chained to a work crew. You can be sold to serve on a merchant ship. I will have you working for Phlan or—”

“Have you ever seen an enraged squirrel attack a wood cutter?” a deep voice cut through the tirade.

“Or have you seen what happens when dock rats get unbearably hungry?” said an enchantingly feminine voice.

Two druids had slipped through the throng of guards as if they didn’t exist, gliding up to Ren. The brown robes they had worn earlier had been replaced with dazzling white robes. There seemed to be a pale green aura to the fabric, but the robes were so white they were hard to look at.

“Rats, squirrels, what are you talking about? Guards, remove these—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t try that,” said Talenthia. “We druids have a way with animals. Or aren’t you aware of such powers?”

A huge black rat, bigger than a man’s boot, leaped up onto the chamber table, and seven more surrounded the first councilman.

“Please let me explain before my cousin turns the rats on this entire tent. I am Andoralson, a druid and worshiper of Sylvanus. This is Talenthia. If you harm our friend Ren or do anything to hinder him, you will be amazed and terrified at what happens. The animals of the forest will prevent you from taking the lumber you need. The mules you drive to bring back the stone of the Dragonspine Mountains will refuse to budge. The fish of the sea will never enter your nets. Have I left anything out, Talenthia? Ren?” After a moment of stunned silence in the tent, the druid added, “The three of us will be leaving now.”

Anton was the only councilman looking at all pleased. The cleric made no attempt to conceal the big grin on his face. He gave the three a wave of encouragement.

“No, I think that covers everything, Andoralson. We must be going. We may be in town for a few more days. See that these fine, strong troops don’t bother us, Lord Bartholomew. Ren, come with us.” Talenthia took the surprised ranger by the arm and led him away. As they left the tent, she whispered, “I am so glad everything worked out. Things could have gotten messy. Now what do we do?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Ren said, looking into her deep gray eyes. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been more confused.

The battle plans were ready. Troops were assembled and trained. Monsters were recruited, bribed, and in position. All varieties of spellcasters—both clerics and wizards—were ready to unleash magical fury on the unsuspecting city.

Phlan was about to be attacked again.

At the center of this swarm of activity was a cackling, evil, overconfident wizard. Red robes flowed around him as he galloped among the troops on his horrifying black horse, a nightmare. Catching sight of his battle commander, he trotted over to issue final instructions. Marcus was exhilarated by the thought of the upcoming conflict.

“Commander Brittle, with the forces we now command, we can’t lose. The pathetic citizens of Phlan will soon know what it is to have their lives ripped from their grasp.” Marcus laughed an evil, grating howl.

The battle commander turned toward his superior. Neck and spine bones creaked and cracked as the skeletal warrior moved. The clicking of bones and the rattle of armor was audible above the sounds of battle preparations. Marcus grinned. Undead creatures fascinated him. He was delighted to have skeletons, ghouls, wights, and other undead making up nearly half his army. These creatures weren’t harmed by the injuries that could devastate a human; they didn’t bleed and were immune to many spells. Marcus had spells to simulate such effects, but these benefits came naturally to undead creatures. The wizard grinned again.