Uneasy Alliances (8 page)

“Ingrar! What is it?” cried Noph.

“Go now and fight! Don’t ask more! You must go now!” The young pirate’s urgency infected even Artemis and Shar.

Kern lifted his sword. “Ready?”

“No.” Trandon again lifted a hand. “Kern, you, I, Sharessa, and the guards must create as much of a circle around us as possible. Lord Garkim, Entreri, and Noph, move with us, and when we come near the altar, seize the bloodforge.”

“What then?” asked Noph.

Trandon looked at him, a corner of his mouth quirking cynically. “Then we try to get to the door. Ingrar, stay here, and when you sense the forge is near, start for the outside. I don’t think you’ll need anyone to guide you; you seem to feel the forge in some other way.” He lifted his hands. “First let’s see if we can get their attention.”

He spoke an arcane word, and from his fingertips a blazing ball of light leapt forward and streaked across the crowd, exploding against the far wall. Shrieks came from worshipers, who became sudden torches, their robes igniting in a fiery display of arcane power.

“Now!” yelled Kern. The company surged forward. Kern’s hammer glowed in the light of the bloodforge as the heavy blunt weapon rose and fell, driving the devotees of the Fallen Temple before him. Trandon had time for a blast of lightning that reduced two worshipers to smoking cinders; then he caught up his staff to defend himself against an onslaught of squealing Doeganers. Sharessa’s sword flashed in and out, parrying and thrusting as she tried by the sheer skill of her swordplay to keep the howling mob at bay. By her side, one, then another of Lord Garkim’s guards was overborne and dragged away.

Noph, his dagger out, defended himself as best he could against the clutching, bloodstained fingers of the crowd. They fought their way to the altar and surrounded it. Noph, Entreri, and Garkim grabbed the tripod holding the bloodforge and lifted—and stopped in frustration.

“It’s too heavy,” Noph yelled to Kern above the din. “We can’t lift it.” The forge glowed malevolently, and Noph realized something with a shock. “It doesn’t want us to lift it. It knows what it wants.”

He looked around him. In Sharessa’s face and in that of the remaining palace guards, he saw only despair. Kern was fighting like a madman, his face streaked with blood, his eyes shining with something very like happiness. Trandon’s face reflected only cold, calculating concentration as he batted away flashing blades with his staff. Garkim and Entreri had drawn their swords and were helping to hold back the crowd so intent on tearing them apart. The Doeganers fought without skill, but their sheer numbers told in their favor. The fight couldn’t last long now.

From the side of the temple came a thunderclap. With a loud crack, a portion of the dome fell, crushing screaming worshipers beneath it. A light shone through from the sky, a more than natural light that bathed the interior of the hellish temple in ethereal radiance. Noph could see the bones in his hand shining red through the skin.

From the side of the temple, Ingrar advanced from the alcove. The light shone directly on him, almost lifted him, so that he seemed to glide rather than to walk. His blind eyes, deep and dark, were opened wide and seemed to be filled with an inner fire.

Around him, as he advanced through the ranks of the cultists, silence fell, and the struggling mass around the altar parted to let Him through. Noph seemed to hear from far off a kind of chanting in a language at once unknown and yet hauntingly familiar.

Ingrar stood beside the bloodforge, its surface now flaring with sparks and flashes of magical energy. He lifted his hands toward the gaping ceiling and to the light that fell upon him The rays increased until they were blinding in intensity, yet even if the viewers shut their eyes, they could still see Ingrar standing in an attitude of total supplication.

The chanting rose in volume until it filled the temple. Now Noph could see that Ingrar was no longer alone. Next to him—impossibly, within him—stood another figure, that of a tall warrior, a flowing beard touching his chest. In one hand he held a great warhammer; his other arm ended in a stump where the hand should have been. From his mouth and from Ingrar’s lips came thunderous words that seemed to shake all the temple and the city beyond.

“I am come,” cried Ingrar. “I am come to purge the land of those who blaspheme in my name. Let all ye who pretend to speak in the name of Tyr beware, for my wrath is righteous and my judgment is harsh.”

Kern was on his knees, shielding his eyes with one hand, the other stretched out in prayer. Ingrar—or was he now the embodiment of mighty Tyr himself?—looked at him, and it seemed to Noph that a smile touched the bearded lips of the man-god.

“Rise, Kern, paladin of Phlan. You have been a hammer in the cause of right. But you—his gaze swept over the worshipers of the Fallen Temple— you have dragged down my name and made it a curse in this land. For you, I have no mercy.”

The figure and Ingrar lifted their hands together. They blazed forth fire that seemed to burn without heat. It swept across the temple; dimly, above its roar, Noph heard screams and saw the adherents of the Fallen Temple claw at their bodies. Some pulled their robes off, and Noph saw that beneath their robes their flesh was melting away from their bones.

Those nearest the door struggled to get out of the building, but many were trampled by their companions. Some few saved themselves, and their laments could be heard slowly dying away along the causeway as they struggled back to the docks.

Before the altar, the god stepped away from Ingrar and faced the blind youth. His hand rested on the young man’s forehead.

“You were chosen by me to be the vessel of my avenging might. You, who see so clearly, must now be the renewer of my strength. You must once more make my name beloved in this land. This is the task I lay upon you.”

The god’s eyes blackened and became empty eye sockets that seemed to fill his entire face. The figure faded away, and the light that had illuminated the temple went out. Ingrar, blind once more, stood silently facing his companions. Beside him, the bloodforge’s surface was dull and silent. But Kern, Trandon, and Noph could see that around Ingrar’s face, there still lingered some of the radiance of one touched by the gods.

A sudden movement to Noph’s left made him start from his daze. Artemis and Sharessa were moving cautiously around behind Ingrar toward the bloodforge. Kern, still stunned by what he had just seen, paid them no mind; Trandon and Garkim also were staring at Ingrar, who himself seemed unaware that danger was at his back.

“Hey!” Noph shouted, lunging forward. His cry roused the others, and Kern and Trandon charged Entreri just as the thief reached the pedestal holding the bloodforge.

Quick as death, Sharessa, her long hair flying, scooped up a spear from a fallen cultist and, wielding it like a staff, swung it in a wide arc at the paladin’s knees. Kern leaped to avoid it, but in doing so, he stumbled on the altar steps, slippery with blood, and fell heavily against Trandon. The two crashed to the ground in a mass of flailing arms and legs. Noph circled to the right, hoping to take the pirates by surprise, but Sharessa was too quick for him. The spear came up, now with the point guttering at his throat.

Garkim stood unmoving, as did Ingrar. Kern and Trandon disentangled themselves and rose to find Sharessa tickling Noph’s throat with the spearpoint. She shook her head at them.

“No, don’t. I’ve come too far not to get something out of all this, and it looks like this bloodforge is the only thing worth taking.” She spoke to Entreri without turning her head. “Come on, take it and let’s go.”

Carefully Entreri placed both hands around the stone. Kern laughed, a strange sound in the tense silence.

“Three of us couldn’t carry that. What makes you think you can?”

Entreri answered without removing his eyes from the forge.

“Because the forge wants me to have it. I can hear it calling me, telling me to take it.”

He cupped both hands about the stone, and to the astonishment of the others, lifted it as easily as if it were a child’s toy ball. Clutching it to his chest, his skeleton hand gleaming, he stepped behind the protection of Sharessa’s spear.

The two circled cautiously until their backs were to the temple doorway. The other members of the party followed cautiously, their eyes on the stone that Entreri carried. Shar kept her spear touching Noph’s throat. “Sharessa!” the young man pleaded.

She looked at him with a touch of pity. “Sorry, lad. Pirating means nothing if you don’t make a profit. Aren’t you the one who said everything comes down to gain and loss?”

“Do you know what you’re loosing on the world?” shouted Trandon angrily. He turned to Ingrar, still standing at the altar. “Can’t you do something?”

Ingrar shook his head. “What will happen must happen, Trandon. Entreri is right. The stone has called to him, and I cannot interfere. There is a greater purpose here than any of ours. You must have faith and trust in the judgment of Tyr.”

“Faith? Faith that little bastard will take the bloodforge back to Faerun and auction it off to the highest bidder? That hell sell it to the Zhentarim or the Red Wizards of Thay if he gets a chance and the price is right? I’ve got faith in that, all right!” Trandon snorted and swung his staff in frustration.

Sharessa and Entreri were almost at the temple entrance. Suddenly reversing her spear, Shar struck Noph sharply on the brow with the butt. The youth dropped, stunned, and the two thieves turned to flee across the causeway. From the altar, Garkim cried out in sudden pain and clutched his head.

The water on both sides of the causeway roiled; then the roadway nearest the temple exploded with the force of a hundred thunderclaps. Entreri and Sharessa were hurled forward against Kern and Trandon on top of the still body of Noph. The bloodforge bounced from Entreri’s hands and rolled back into the hall.

From the foaming water surged yellow-gray tentacles and a great bulbous head. Sharessa, half stunned, saw on it the countenance she had glimpsed before, carven in stone and engraved in marble.

The mage-king, Aetheric III.

Again Sharessa heard the voice she’d heard before in the palace chambers when they were first attempting to steal the bloodforge. That seemed a lifetime ago. Then the voice had been beautiful, like a great organ playing on a thousand pipes.

Now the voice had lost none of its timbre. It still resounded through the great hall of the Temple of Umberlee, and Shar could hear echoes of it floating across the water from the ruined city. But now the words it spoke were gibberish, the ravings of a mind released from sanity. With growing horror, she realized that the words she heard were not only in her ears but also in her mind, that Aetheric no longer distinguished between speech and telepathy. And as he spoke, she felt the madness and terror of that vast mind.

We rise from the deep… We are the god of the deep and of the overworld

Blood is power; power is life; the bloodforge is life… Our beloved Doegan

why are you doing this?… Why are you doing this?

There was a burst of insane laughter. Aetheric swung a great tentacled arm inside the temple. Artemis and Sharessa rolled one way, Kern and Trandon the other, the latter pulling with him the groggy Noph. The voice rose to a scream.

We will have the forge … forged in blood, the blood of the people. We are the people; they serve us with their blood … the blood of the gods… . Doegan, behold your god!

Garkim screamed again, his face contorted. White spittle dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He staggered against Ingrar, who wrapped both arms around the former chancellor, his face reflecting the horror that he felt. Aetheric clawed frantically at the temple floor. The watchers could see now that one of his eyes was swollen and blind, the other dim and rheumy. His skin was mottled. Gray blood gushed from half a dozen wounds.

Now the mage-king seemed to sense the presence of the bloodforge. His tentacles shot out again, but fell just short of the stone. He strained to lift his vast, unseen bulk into the temple. Stones around the entrance cracked and gave way as he thundered against the walls.

Give it to us! he howled. Give it to us! It is ours! It knows us! It wants us!

Entreri flung himself on top of the bloodforge, shielding it with his body. The mage-king’s eye focused on him.

You! Entreri the assassin … We give you blood for blood.

Tendrils of magical energy writhed from the mage-king’s tentacles and surrounded the little assassin, dragging at his body. Entreri twisted, shouting in agony as gashes split the skin of his face. Blood washed down over his neck in streams, and his body wracked in agony. Then, resting his skeleton hand on the now-glowing forge, his screams turned to a cry of triumph as a mighty warrior, far taller than any mortal, stepped from the air, swinging a warhammer at the thrashing .figure of Aetheric.

The hammer rose and fell above the mage-king’s head. Aetheric’s face vanished in a mass of blood and shredded flesh, and an agonizing telepathic shriek rang through the temple with such force that windows high in the dome shattered and Noph rolled on the floor, covering his ears with his cloak.

The mage-king’s tentacles wrapped around the forge warrior and, with a last dying effort, tore the creature in two. The companions heard a heartrending moan of My forge, and then the body of Aetheric sank slowly back out of the temple entrance into the waters of the bay.

Cautiously they picked themselves up. Artemis still sat, one hand on the bloodforge, eyes closed, unmoving. Noph approached him slowly, joined by Trandon.

“Is he… ?” Noph asked tremulously.

Trandon examined the little man swiftly. “No. He’s unconscious, though. He must have channeled tremendous energy through the forge to create that warrior. In any case, we’ll make sure he’s not a threat anymore.” The fighter took off his belt and bound the assassin’s hands tightly behind him, then turned. “Now, Mistress Sharessa …”

Shar was standing by Garkim, helping the Doeganer to his feet. “What?” She glared at Trandon. “Do you want to tie me up, too? Where d’you think I’d get to now?”