Temple Hill (19 page)
Authors: Drew Karpyshyn
Next came a tall man in wizard’s robes. His head was bald, his face clean shaven. He looked too young to be a mage of any import, but the immediate, unquestioning responses of the soldiers as he gave them his orders told another story. From experience, Corin knew that those who made a living with the blade generally held magicians and sorcerers in disdain. Only a wizard of great power could command such respect from a whole company of warriors.
The mage quickly arranged the guards into a formation that was familiar to Corin. They built a protective wall around their leader, guarding him against physical attacks from any direction. The firelight reflected off the wizard’s shaved skull, poking up from the near solid mass of shields, swords, and armor that surrounded him. Between their formation and the torches it would be impossible to get closer without being seen.
Finally two more figures emerged, quickly joining the young magic-user in the protection of the center of the company. One was completely covered in heavy robes. From the size, Corin suspected it to be a woman, though her face was veiled to protect her identity. She must be the mysterious package Lhasha had been sent after.
However, Corin registered all the information about her in a small, subliminal corner of his mind. On the conscious level, his full attention was focused on the figure guiding her out.
The sight of Fhazail, gingerly holding the woman’s arm as if she were a lethal viper, filled Corin with a sense of vindication. If anything, the steward looked even fatter than before. His clothes looked more garish, and even from this distance Corin could plainly see that the steward still wore his hideous rings. The tawdry gemstones reflected tiny spots of flaming orange and red that danced across the helmets and armor of the guards surrounding him.
Corin resisted the urge to leap out and attack. He wanted vengeance, and he was willing to die for itbut only if it meant he could take Fhazail’s life in the process. He wasn’t about to waste his opportunity by launching himself against impossible odds.
If he had worn armor, Corin might have risked a brazen frontal assault. Protected by the heavy steel of full battle gear, he just possibly might have been able to
withstand enough blows to reach Fhazail, and deal a fatal strike to the steward before succumbing to the combined blades of the guards surrounding his quarry.
Unfortunately, Corin was not wearing full battle gear. He wasn’t even wearing so much as a thin mail shirt. After careful consideration, Corin had chosen to wear no armor at all on this night. It would have hampered his ability to lurk unseen, to pursue unheard. The cumbersome gear would have slowed his pursuit of a cowardly, fleeing opponent. And Corin knew he would have no need of armor to protect him from Fhazail.
Now he regretted the decision. With nothing to protect his vulnerable flesh from the attacks of his enemies, his hand was stayed. The wall of guards protecting the steward forced Corin to bide his time, and wait for a break in the shield wall.
In tight formation, the cultists moved out. The soldiers’ boots struck the pavement in perfect unison, the result of many hours of intense drills and training as a unit. As he watched the guards march in perfect precision, Corin realized there was little chance of finding a weakness in their wall. He might not get a chance to strike Fhazail down after all, not tonight. Now that he had found his quarry, he would keep him in sight until he saw an opening. It might take days, maybe a tenday, but Corin had no intention of letting the steward escape his wrath.
As the armed platoon marched through Elversult, the runners shuttled back and forth, darting on ahead, then scampering back once they had verified that the street ahead was still clear.
Moving silently as Lhasha had taught him, and being careful to stay far enough back to remain cloaked in shadows, Corin followed the cultists through the deserted streets of the Elversult night.
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Lhasha waited until Corin was a safe distance away before she emerged from her concealment, materializing from the dark of a nearby alley. It would be a simple matter to follow him without being noticed. He may have learned enough to keep out of the soldiers’ unsuspecting eyes, but Lhasha herself was not so easily fooled.
She had been following him since shortly after their fight at the Weeping Griffin. At first she had been shocked by his actions, she had to admit he had caught her off guard. In their time together Corin had been anything but talkative, but Lhasha now knew that he was able to wield words almost as well as he handled a blade.
If he had simply screamed insults at her she would have seen through his ruse immediately. Corin was subtle, and dangerous. He first put her off balance by suddenly announcing the end of their partnership. He lured her into dropping her defenses by referring to bis own weakness. Then, when she was vulnerable, he turned on her, striking at her own feelings of inadequacy by bringing up her failings in combat. In the end he had hit her in her most sensitive spots, insulting her skills as a burglar, belittling her chosen calling and her expression of her identity.
A masterful performance, she had to admit. However, he had underestimated her. She was no fool. It hadn’t taken her long to realize the game he had played. At first she couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. It made no sense.
As she replayed the conversation in her head, the pieces fell into place. The key, she realized, was when he grabbed her shoulder. The violent reaction was out of character for him, at least since he had stopped drinking. Even in combat Corin attacked with precision, strategy,
and purpose. She rarely saw him lose control. Something must have triggered it.
Suddenly it had all clicked. Her description of her anonymous contact had set him off. Corin obviously recognized the man. She remembered the venom in Corin’s voice when he’d told her about the man who had destroyed himthe steward, Fhazail. She knew then that her contact and Fhazail were one and the same.
She also knew Corin was going to hunt Fhazail down and kill him, but Lhasha still didn’t understand why he had tried to drive her away. Corin had to know she would help him however she could, despite her qualms about needless violence. Maybe his actions were out of respect to her, a way to keep her from becoming involved in something she might find distasteful. Or maybe the pain of the past was too personal to share, and the only way Corin felt he could end it would be to kill Fhazail by himself
In either case, Lhasha would respect his desire to be left alone. But she wasn’t about to let him go off without at least keeping an eye on him. If he got into trouble, she wanted to be there to help however she could. She had doubled back to the Weeping Griffin and waited. When he came out, she followed him, effortlessly blending into the silence and darkness of the night. He led her right to the cult warehouse.
At first she was surprised. She couldn’t imagine why Corin would go back there. The last place she wanted to be was the site of such a recent, and horribly botched, job. She settled in to wait, certain it would all be made clear eventually.
When Fhazail emerged leading the cowled woman, Lhasha at last understood. How Corin knew his enemy was working with the Dragon Cult she couldn’t even guess, in truth, it really wasn’t important. Corin had
found him, and soon he would try to kill him. That was all that mattered.
Lhasha feared her friend would leap out and attack the small army of guards. If he did, there was little she could do but stay hidden and watch him die. She vowed that if such a thing happened, she would take up the mantle of avenger, and follow Fhazail until she had a chance to sink a dagger into the soft, puffy white flesh between his ribs, in honor of the memory of her friend. She prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
Fortunately, Corin showed restraint. He controlled his rage, and followed the group cautiously, and a little clumsily, at least by Lhasha’s high standards. She knew he was waiting for his opportunityone that might never come. Lhasha trailed in his wake, hoping he wouldn’t succumb to anger or frustration and do anything rash.
ith the runners watching the route ahead, the small knot of cult warriors made their way through Elversult’s deserted midnight streets. Keeping to little-used thoroughfares, they marched from beneath the shadows of the warehouses in the Caravan District and wound then-way through the city.
Corin quickly realized the cultists were taking their “package”and Fhazailinto the forests just beyond the city’s borders. There were no gates leading in or out of Elversult, no protective battlements encircled the city. Unlike a walled town, access was not restricted to the main roads. A reminder that Elversult was built by smugglers. It was virtually impossible to control the traffic of goods, or to prevent people from coming in or going out.
Within half an hour the armed group had reached the city’s western limits. Although there were many paths through the groves that dotted the landscape around Elversult, the trees were not densely packed, and there were few if any wild animals and monsters for the first few miles outside the city. If the cult intended to travel quickly and without being seen, as Corin suspected, they wouldn’t
even bother taking the roadthey’d cut right through the trees.
The soldiers changed formation, confirming Corin’s hypothesis. Instead of the tight shield wall, they now marched several feet aparta formation that allowed the war party to march through the forest in a relatively straight route and still maintain a formidable defensive perimeter. Between each man there was enough space to let the trunks of the thinly dispersed trees pass through the formation without having to break rank, and the men were still close enough to prevent anyone from slipping through their lines without being seen. Each soldier could clearly see the man on either side of him, making it impossible to pick them off one at a time without being noticed.
Corin knew he still didn’t stand a chance of getting close to Fhazail, but he wasn’t about to give up the hunt just because they had left the city. As the cultists moved through the trees, Corin became bolder, inching ever closer to the group, trusting the cover of the trees and the gloom of the forest night to keep him hidden, searching in vain for a break in their defenses and a chance to go after Fhazail.
He was so intent on his quarry that he never even heard the unknown assailant who rushed up and tripped him from behind. He hit the ground and his attacker leaped upon his back, a small hand threw itself across his mouth to stifle his grunt of surprise. Before he could gather himself and throw his undersized enemy from his back, soft hps pressed against his ear.
“Hold still. Stay quiet.”
Lhasha. He froze at her words, and she removed her hand from his mouth, then rolled off his back and flattened herself on the ground beside him. She was so close he could smell the fragrant scent of the herbal mixture
she used when rinsing her hair. Corin’s head swirled with questions, but he knew better than to speak and reveal their location. Instead, he gently nudged Lhasha with his shoulder and gave her a quizzical look when she turned to face him.
With a nod of her head she pointed to the darkness ahead of them. The torches of the cult soldiers flickered and danced, constantly disappearing and reappearing as trees momentarily blocked Corin’s line of sight. As the dispelling illumination of the fire marched on, the night closed in behind the group.
Just before it became impossible for Corin’s eyes to pierce the darkness he saw a movement. Several figures materialized from the shadows that camouflaged them and fell into step behind the oblivious cultists.
The figures quickly vanished into the night with the receding torches, and complete darkness fell. Corin couldn’t see his hand in front of him. Lhasha waited another ten seconds to be sure they were out of earshot then whispered, “I saw them with my night vision. You would’ve marched right into them.”
Corin wanted to thank Lhasha for saving his life, he wanted to ask her what she was doing there, he wanted to tell her to go back to the city, but all of these were minor concerns. She was there now, and Corin knew she’d be staying.
“It’s an ambush,” he whispered instead. “They’re surrounding the cultists. There must be a clearing nearby.”
“How do you know?” Lhasha asked.
“That’s where they’ll hit. Attack from the cover of the trees while your enemy is out in the open. Come in from all sides and overwhelm them.”
“Who are they?” Lhasha asked.
Corin didn’t know, though he suspected they were working for Fhazail in one way or another. “It doesn’t
matter. When they strike, I’ll have a chance to get at Fhazail.”
“The fat onethat’s Fhazail, isn’t it? He was my contact back at Elversult, too.” Corin nodded and Lhasha continued. “But you obviously must have figured that out already, or you wouldn’t be here. Any chance I can talk you out of this?”
The warrior shook his head.
“Then at least let me help.”
There was little chance he’d convince her to leave. In her own way, Lhasha was as stubborn as he was, and her elf vision would come in handy. “All right, but be careful.”
“Always, Corin. What’s the plan?”
“Lead me through the forest, watch for others hiding in the darkness. Get me close. When the ambush hits, itH be utter chaos. I’ll move in then and kill Fhazail. You stay out of sight in the trees.”
“And after Fhazail, you’ll just slip away from the battle and join me, right? We’ll just leave the cult to its business and head back to Elversult, all right?”
Corin hesitated, and Lhasha pressed her point. “With Fhazail dead, there’s no reason we can’t stick with our original plan. Reform our partnership. Get enough money to pay for your arm. We can make a fresh start in Cormyr.”
A fresh start. The words had a nice ring to them. Corin sighed, but his face wore the hint of a smile. “Agreed.” The smile vanished, replaced by grim determination, “But not until Fhazail’s dead.”
They rose from the forest floor, and Lhasha led the way through the trees. It didn’t take long until they had the cult troop in sight again. Just beyond them Corin could make out a large clearing. The army of cultists were already close enough to bathe it in light from their torches.
