Thornhold (45 page)

The Fenrisbane was a marvelous, indestructible, deathdealing… ghost.

It was also larger than Bronwyn had anticipated, and thus clearly visible from the village. She turned around to see if they had witnesses. Indeed, most of the villagers came at a run, swiftly at first, then dropping off at a safe distance to take stock of this marvel.

Ebenezer whistled softly. “Nice piece of work,” he admitted, eyeing the Fenrisbane with naked awe. “Not much starch to it, though.”

That was true, and it left Bronwyn with a bit of a dilemma. How to get the rings from the attack deck? But either the incomplete magic wavered, or the magical tower responded to her thoughts, because the monstrous attack machine swiftly shrank back down to a toy, and Bronwyn pulled out the rings and slipped them onto her fingers.

The dwarf glanced over his shoulder at the gaping villagers. He did a quick double take and swore. “Lookit there,” he said grimly, pointing to the hills south of the village. A white horse was clearly visible and approaching fast. With the rider were four others. “Now that they’ve seen this thing, they’ve got one more reason to run you down. We’d best be riding, and fast.”

The incident in Thornhold’s chapel weighed heavily on Dag Zoreth, as did the disturbing information that Ashemmi had passed on. He went to his chamber and took his scrying globe out once again. Ashemmi’s “visit” had left him seething with helpless fury. He used this, letting it fuel his prayers. As a result, so intense was the purple flame that leaped into the heart of the scrying globe that he could feel the pain he was inflicting himself

Sir Gareth came into view almost at once. “Where are you?” the priest snapped.

“Summit Hall,” the knight said, his voice somewhat slurred by intense pain.

Dag pulled back the power just enough to allow the man to function. “I had a most enlightening conversation with one of my … comrades from Darkhold. She informed me that my daughter was shipped south on a Zhentish slave ship—the same ship that was to dispose of those wretched dwarves. The same shipment that you so ably helped to arrange. I am most eager to hear your explanation.”

Hope drained from the fallen paladin’s eyes. “She was taken by the paladins, that much is true. I intercepted her and tried to have her taken away to safe fosterage.”

“On a slave ship?”

“The Knights of Samular have few outposts in the south,” Gareth argued. “She would have been safe enough, tended in the villa of an old associate who has reason to be grateful and discrete. There she could have stayed until it was safe to return her to you.”

The truth hidden behind these self-serving words began to come clear to Dag. Perhaps Sir Gareth had had a role in the original abduction of Cara. Perhaps not. But certainly, he used the situation to position himself well. Cara wore a ring of Samular and thus had the potential to wield power. Of course Gareth would want to have her in his secret control. And if he was forced to do so, he could “discover” the child’s hiding place and make himself a hero to whomever he relinquished the child. It was not a foolish plan, but it had gone awry.

“I want her back,” the priest demanded. “Now.”

“That could prove difficult, Lord Zoreth,” the knight said, “She is in Blackstaff Tower, under the protection and tutelage of the lady mage Laeral Silverhand.”

Dag hissed out a foul curse. The beautiful mage was as unconventional as she was powerful. If she took it upon herself to keep Cara, a small flight of dragons would be hard pressed to sway her from this course. But the archmage, the ruler of Blackstaff Tower, was another matter. Khelben Arunsun was not only a mage, but a ruler, deeply involved in the politics of the city and the surrounding area. If the matter were posed to him as a political expediency, he might be willing to see reason.

“Use your name and contacts. Get the child to Thornhold at once,” flag commanded. “And my sister as well, or you will find the same end as Hronulf.”

‘That is unlikely,” the old paladin said. “Unfortunately, I am no longer fit to face armed men in a siege.”

The priest laughed softly. “Hronulf did not die from his battle wounds. I tore out his heart with my own hands. You might want to bear this in mind, as you tend this task.”

Seventeen

For two days Bronwyn and Ebenezer rode as hard as they dared push their horses. The paladins were never far behind them, though Bronwyn used every trick and shortcut she had learned in her years on the road.

Finally, the walls of the city lay before them. The lath afternoon sun glinted off the spires of the Trolltower and bathed the huge arch of the Northgate in a welcoming glow. Bronwyn drew in a long breath and released it on a sigh. Some of the tension slid from her neck and shoulders, and she reached out to pat her horse’s lathered neck.

“Stones!” exclaimed Ebenezer with more vehemence than usual. “Lookit there!”

Bronwyn followed the line of his pointing finger. Far to the north was a small, dark cluster, moving toward the High Road with a stolid determination that suggested a migration of ants.

She rapidly skimmed through a mental roll of days. So much had happened since Captain Orwig had left them on the docks of Waterdeep that it was hard to realize that ten days had passed.

“Ten days,” she said aloud. “Tarlamera agreed to stay in the city for ten days.”

“A dwarf of her word, is my sister,” he said grimly. He cast a helpless look at Bronwyn. ‘Well, I’m off”

A deep sense of loss smote Bronwyn’s heart. She reached down and clasped his shoulder. “I’ve got to see how Cara is doing in Blackstaff Tower. Or whether she’s still there, for that matter.” She smiled faintly. “That child’s feet are almost as itchy as yours and mine. I’ll come just as soon as I can.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Chances are there won’t be much to find.”

This confirmed Bronwyn’s unspoken fears. Ebenezer believed that he was going north to die with his clan. “Don’t go,” she said softly.

“Gotta go. I wasn’t there last time. Couldn’t live with myself if it happened again.”

They sat for a moment, staring out after the determined dwarves. Bronwyn accepted what must be. She forced a smile, reached down, and cuffed the dwarf’s curly head in farewell.

Ebenezer caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Then he abruptly released her and kicked his tired blue pony into a reluctant trot. His grumbling comment floated back to Bronwyn on the brisk sea breeze.

“Been spending too much time with humans, is what.”

Bronwyn blinked back tears and turned her horse through the Northgate. Since secrecy was unlikely, she settled for haste. She left her horses at the nearest public stable and hired a closed carriage. At her instruction, the halfling driver set his horses at a brisk pace down the High Road, and when Bronwyn arrived at Blackstaff Tower she gave him the silver he’d requested for his hire and half as much again. She jumped from the carriage and hit the cobblestones running.

Her heart quickened with worry when Danilo emerged from the black wall to meet her, his expression as dark as the marble edifice behind him. “You do not want to go in there,” he said grimly. He caught her arm and began drawing her along with him at a brisk pace.

She fell into step with him. “What’s going on?”

“Lady Laeral is packing for an unexpected trip. It seems she returned to the tower after a night’s revel up in the Sea Ward to find that our mutual bane, the great archmage himself, had relieved her of her promising new apprentice.”

Dread stopped Bronwyn cold. “Cara! What did he do with her?”

“Keep walking,” he said shortly. “I doubt you have much time. The archmage did precisely what he thought he must. It seems that our good friends at the Hails of Justice got wind of Cara’s new apprenticeship. They convinced the First Lord that this child was and should be a ward of the Knights of Samular, that her destiny was with the chosen brothers of her illustrious ancestor, and many other songs of a similar tune.”

“And Khelben just turned her over?” Fury and incredulity battled for supremacy in Bronwyn’s voice.

“He believed he had little choice in the matter. Three young paladins came for her, bearing an edict from Piergeiron himself. Khelben is many things, not the least of them a canny politician. He understands the rift growing between the various paladin orders and the Harpers. If he openly defied Piergeiron’s direct edict, he woi.ild give the impression that Waterdeep’s Master Harper considers himself above the law. This, he contends, would endanger the work of the Harpers and the agents themselves.”

“And you agree.”

“Did I say that?” he retorted. “The archmage and I exchanged many words on this matter. Suffice it to say that we used up most of the truly vile ones, but my anger was a pale thing compared to Laeral’s wrath. I fear that the lady mage’s visit to her sister’s farm will last much longer than previous jaunts.

“But Khelben must handle his own problems,” Danilo concluded. “Let us discuss yours. What did you find?”

She sent him a long, considering look. “Why should I trust you?”

“Whatever you think, I have never betrayed your trust. Nor will I.” He stopped and pushed his fine green tabard off his left shoulder, revealing a tiny, weathered silver harp nestled in a crescent moon. He took off the pin, the symbol of his Harper allegiance, and handed it to her.

“This was given me by a man I deeply admire, whose regard I hope always to retain. Hold it for me until this matter is done. If you find me in any way false, return the pin to Bran Skorisun and declare me foresworn before that noble ranger and his half-elf daughter. I will not gainsay you.”

The man could make no other oath that Bronwyn would trust more completely. The odd pairing between this lighthearted nobleman and his quiet, serious half-elf companion was one that Bronwyn never fully understood, but she knew that nothing meant more to her friend than the regard of the woman to whom he’d given his heart. She took the pin and dropped it into her bag. “It will be in my safe. When this matter is over, Alice will return it to you if I cannot.”

“You will,” he said, in a tone closer to his usual light manner. “Now, tell me what you found.”

Bronwyn told him the story of the lich’s tower, and the power of the Fenrisbane artifact. “I sent it ahead to my safe,” she said, “and it will stay there until I decide what to do with it.”

“The paladins would dearly love such a device.”

“Wouldn’t they, though?” she said bitterly. “And now that they’ve had a look at it, there will be no denying them.”

“They saw it? How?”

She sighed wearily. “After we retrieved it from the orc lair, Ebenezer wanted to take a look at it. I had but two of the rings, and only one descendant of Samular, but I took a shot. The tower was not what it could be, but it was enough.”

The Harper swore fervently. “Are you sure they saw this?”

“It would be hard to miss something that big rising out of a rye field.”

“Then we must hurry,” he said. “We must find a way to get Cara away from the paladins before they catch up with you and demand the artifact.”

They slipped through the city, taking a route that led through the back doors of shops, through several private homes and adjoining tunnels, and even, on one occasion, a short dash across a rooftop. There were many such routes in the city, known only to the Harpers and open only to them. Despite her fury with Khelben, Bronwyn found some comfort in the web of support her Harper alliance offered—not the least of which was the determined friend at her side.

Alice met them at the back door and pushed them back into the alley. “Go right back the way you came. There’s a paladin here looking for you.”

A sense of ill news oft-repeated swept over Bronwyn, and she sighed tiredly. “Tali man? Blond hair?”

“Might have been. There’s no telling, as it’s long since gone white. He gives his name as Sir Gareth Cormaeril.”

Bronwyn glanced at Danilo. “I should see him. He was a friend of my father’s. Perhaps he will tell me what’s going on.”

The Harper shoved one hand through his hair and shook his head uncertainly. “I would be wary.”

“I will be. Listen in, if you want,” she said, knowing very well that he would do so anyway..

She hurried through the back room into the shop. The knight rose to greet her, his handsome and well-worn face tight with worry. “Thank Tyr, child! I hoped that I might have word with you before the watch found you.”

That stopped Bronwyn in her tracks. “The watch?”

“Yes. Lord Piergeiron had decreed that you should be arrested on sight. You are not safe in this city.”

She sat down, hard, on a small bench. “Why?”

The old knight gazed intently at her for a long moment. “It is as I suspected. You are innocent of the charges against you.”

“Tell me.”

He sighed. “The three young paladins sent to escort the child from Blackstaff Tower to the Halls of Justice were found dead. The girl is gone. Most of my brothers suspect that you and your brother, a priest of Cyric allied with the Zhentarim, are behind this abduction.” He hesitated. “There is more.”

“Of course there is,” she muttered. Feeling utterly dazed, she dropped her head into her hands.

“Your brother, Dag Zoreth, commands the forces at Thornhold. I have learned on good authority that he killed Hronulf with his own hands. I would not tell a woman, especially one of your delicate years, the nature of the injuries dealt the young paladins who guarded Dag Zoreth’s child, but they bear that villain’s stamp. Unless I am far wrong, the child is with him… in Thornhold.”

“Oh, Cara,” Bronwyn breathed.

“The child is in grave danger, and not only from the corrupting influence of her father’s faith. The paladins are gathering to mount an assault on Thoruhold. It appears that this attack will take place sooner than my brother paladins anticipated. There are not enough men to mount a conventional siege, but the brothers have faith that they can prevail regardless. Not more than an hour ago, a young man of our order, a promising youth known as Algorind, rode in from Summit Hall with four of his brothers. Do you know this man?”