by T. H. Lain
While Krusk was torn by indecision, Alhandra shouted at Jozan to run. She ordered the cleric to stay away until the charm spell wore off, but that made no sense. Had everyone gone mad? Why couldn't they see that Hassq was a worthy person? Krusk turned back to challenge Jozan and saw that the cleric had vanished into the woods. The barbarian knew that he could track the wounded cleric and catch him easily, even if Jozan had a hefty head start. Alhandra was more dangerous. It would be best to deal with her first. Krusk faced the paladin in a fighting stance, but then heard Yddith's soothing voice calling out that she needed him. The half-orc hesitated.
"Krusk," the barmaid purred, "please bring me my necklace."
Krusk strode to the body of the eagle. The bird, or rather, the druid, was dead. Around its neck was looped the emerald on a slender chain. Krusk scooped it up and approached the one-eyed woman cautiously. When he was sure that she didn't mean to trick him, he poured the necklace into her open hand with undisguised pleasure on his face.
16
Archprelate Laud stood to greet Calmet as the underling approached his evil mentor.
This is a change, thought Calmet as he bowed respectfully to the fanatical cult leader. He must have been pleased with the progress we're making through the stone.
Calmet swallowed nervously as he realized that only his fortuitous snatching of the stone shape scrolls was likely to have saved him from becoming Laud's next atrocity. As the cleric's nimble mind raced, he realized that referring to Laud's previous actions as atrocities was a euphemism. The cavern where he found himself could have been called the "Nave of Atrocities."
The cleric looked around the large chamber chosen by the more powerful priest for his experiments, observing an assemblage of body parts from humans as well as monsters. The cavern's walls were adorned by considerably more shelves than in Calmet's sanctum desanctorum, and these were filled with enough jars of dried herbs, dehydrated bones, desiccated creatures, and flasks of potions and liquids to stock an alchemist's laboratory. Behind the archprelate's writing table was an open chest. Calmet's eyes were lured to its contents like some men's attention would be diverted by a well-shaped bar wench. Laud's chest was filled with scroll cases, perhaps four times as many as the huge amount Calmet had collected since first embezzling his order's gold. In addition, the archprelate's writing table was covered with nearly as many manuscripts and palimpsets as Calmet's table, and to this was added a stock of musty, worm-eaten tomes on necromancy and transmutation that seemed more worthy of maggots' nests than an honored place on a hierarch's desk.
Again, the archprelate surprised his minion. Laud gestured broadly toward a pitcher and two goblets at the corner of his desk.
"Some wine, perhaps?" asked the authority
Laud didn't wait for an answer. He poured a healthy amount into both goblets and handed one to Calmet. He lifted the other into the air and pronounced an unholy blessing on the libation.
"The strength of Gruumsh!" he proclaimed and sipped the fragrant ambrosia that tasted of blackberry, rhubarb, and just a hint of mint.
Calmet mirrored his mentor's statement and actions, waiting for the hierarch to reveal his purpose in summoning his ally to the chamber.
"I owe you praise," explained Laud.
The archprelate's small black eye watched Calmet intently for the inevitable sigh of relief, the loss of tension that was bound to show when he released his inner fear. He smiled as he caught the signs of Calmet's covert relaxation. Laud enjoyed manipulating people. Indeed, he enjoyed manipulating all of nature. That was, Calmet assumed, why he had turned to the worship of Gruumsh.
"I owe you praise," the archprelate reiterated, "for your initiative and creativity in solving our problem."
"It was nothing, Your Potency," responded Calmet.
"No, it was something," contradicted his mentor. Laud motioned for Calmet to be seated and he dropped into an overstuffed chair, as well. "Gruumsh abhors weakness and failure. That is why I worship him. I was tired of Pelor and his petty forgiveness. Sins washed away in the radiance of his sun! Bah! All I ever saw was the unworthy multitude of weak, sniveling rejects making their pilgrimages to his sanctuaries and whining for forgiveness. The poor, the weak, the infirm were all welcome in his temple, were they not?"
"You know, Your Potency," deferred Calmet.
"Of course they were!" the hierarch answered his own question. "They were welcome to come and pray for the day of his appearing. They cried out for justice. They pleaded with their gracious Pelor to intervene on their behalf and overthrow their oppressors-the petty oppressors of one-forge mountain towns and the regal oppressors who conquered entire territories." The archprelate's voice ascended in volume and his waving hands matched the fevered pitch of his excitement as he preached his unholy sermon to a congregation of one. "And did he answer their pleas?"
"You know, Your Potency," Calmet wisely deferred once more.
"Of course he didn't!" shouted Archprelate Laud as if desperate to convince his own follower. "Pelor works in his own time. His work is as sure as the rising and setting of the sun. Those who wait for the dawn shall trade their strength to glide like eagles on high currents, to run indefatigably and continue their journeys beyond human capacity. You were taught this, as was I."
"Yes, of course, Your Potency," responded Calmet.
"And you tired of waiting, as did I?" asked Laud, his voice slowing and softening to a velvet gloved whisper.
"Yes. Yes, I did, Your Potency," mumbled Calmet.
"Then," continued the archprelate, "you understand why I turned to Gruumsh. He is not afraid of action. Unlike Pelor, Gruumsh isn't afraid to use his power. He doesn't tolerate failure and out of weakness comes his strength."
"I know this, Your Potency," ventured Calmet, tiring of the catechism and wondering where the hierarch's sermon was headed.
"Gruumsh allowed the southerners to conquer us to show us our weakness," asserted Laud.
Calmet found that he wasn't brave enough to dispute the logical fallacy with his superior. If Gruumsh allowed his followers to be conquered, wasn't Gruumsh as guilty of inaction as the archprelate had accused Pelor of being? If Gruumsh could allow trouble to strengthen his followers, might that not be part of the formula when Pelor allowed trouble to invade the lives of his own? The apostate's empty eye socket itched. His own reasoning made him feel uncomfortable about following Laud. Everything had seemed so clear after Laud and his men overwhelmed him. Now, he was listening to his teacher's lessons and finding that they didn't match his own experience.
"So now," the archprelate triumphantly reached his conclusion, "I am rebuilding the old religion, the faith of Power. Now we shall restore the sanctuary of Gruumsh and we shall show the southerners what true strength can be. When we restore the Eye of Gruumsh and herald the coming of the new kingdom, we shall know power beyond our most incredible desires."
Laud paused for his proclamation to have appropriate effect and spoke quietly to Calmet. "For this also, you are to be commended," suggested the archprelate.
"This?" asked Calmet with utter confusion.
Laud smiled a merciless, cold, patronizing smile. "Like Gruumsh, I must observe my servants." Laud pointed to a shiny piece of metal that mirrored the room's appearance on its surface and Calmet immediately knew that the archprelate had regularly scryed upon him while he was too busy with his research to notice. He mentally kicked himself while Laud continued. "I am aware that you have made progress on the oracle."
Calmet gulped. The archprelate was far more perceptive than Calmet suspected.
"It's really insignificant, Your Potency," protested Calmet.
"So insignificant that you hide yourself for days at a time in that little cavern with your homunculus, reading the oracle aloud and delving into those ancient palimpsets like a miner seeking gold?" asked the archprelate.
"It's not…I mean, it isn't much, but I'm sure…that is, I think, it may mean that there are two different eyes," responded the cl
eric with grave insecurity. Calmet was shocked and terrified that Laud knew about the homunculus and all of his research on the oracle.
"Ah, yes. I heard you repeat that stanza on numerous occasions. How does it go?
The Eye that cannot see is the Eye that will comprehend.
The Eye with no feeling is the Eye that will judge.
The Eye that cannot move is the Eye that will rule.
Until the Eye that cannot see shall fill with light,
And until the Eye that cannot move has been moved,
There shall no Power be.
"I suppose you think that the 'Eye that cannot be moved' cannot be the same as the one that 'shall fill with light'?" Laud tested his student.
"I truly believe there may be up to four different eyes in the oracle, Your Potency. I didn't want to air my suspicions until I had convincing evidence," dissembled Calmet, fearful that his lord and master could see through his simple deception as easily as he could apparently see through rocky caverns and earthen passages. "What if one of the eyes of which the oracle speaks refers to one of our eyes, sacrificed in Gruumsh's service so that we can see more clearly?"
Laud smiled patronizingly as though Calmet were a precocious child who had jumped to an erroneous conclusion. "I suppose that is an interpretation. It isn't what I expect to find, however."
"Expect to find, Your Potency?" asked Calmet a little too eagerly. Fortunately, he could tell from a brief, unguarded look on Laud's face that the question had not displeased his superior.
"Yes, my curious Calmet," lectured the hierarch. "I expect to find something in the former shrine at Scaun. I expect to find a disfigured, partially destroyed statue of Gruumsh sitting in the midst of a large, unholy symbol carved in the flooring of the chamber. The floor tiles will also be damaged. At least three different chronicles from the time of the original invasion tell of the dismantling of the statue and the destruction of the shrine. At least four ballads speak of the southerners bringing great magic to a cave in the mountain and closing off access to the shrine."
As Laud paused, Calmet dared to comment on the archprelate's revelation. "I knew we were opening up the shrine because it is a place of power. I knew we wanted to make it the center of a revolution, a chance to reinstate the old ways and give freedom to those who honor Gruumsh and all of the old ways. I didn't know you expected to find anything."
Archprelate Laud smiled anew with his patronizing smirk. "I not only expect to find that statue, but I expect to restore it using the very gold we've been mining here. I not only expect to find that unholy symbol carved into the floor and defaced by our southern conquerors, but I expect to use the same magic to restore that symbol that you are using to open the passageway through pure rock."
"And the oracle?" asked Calmet, knowing that he was dancing on dangerous ground but unwilling to quit interrogating the hierarch until he found out everything he wanted to know.
"I expect to place the restored statue as a golden tribute to Gruumsh in the center of his symbol. On the day of the solstice, I will open the sanctuary to the sky and let the light fill its unseeing eye. The light will beam forth from the statue and Gruumsh will judge us his worthy servants and lead us to throw off these weak yokes of superstition and forgiveness."
Calmet must have looked increasingly skeptical during the archprelate's oration because Laud stood up swiftly at its conclusion and motioned for the cleric to follow him deeper into the cavern. The archprelate ducked down to traverse a passageway with a low ceiling and Calmet followed. When the passageway opened into a wider cavern, Calmet's solitary eye took in a sunken pit in the center of the room and various forms of men or monsters chained around the circumference. His mouth dropped open in disbelief as he saw the body of a human onto which was grafted four tentacles, each looking like animated rock and adorned with thorny spikes. All four tentacles ended in a mass of thorns. The tentacles writhed and wriggled constantly as though in frantic search for prey. Another being had the body of an orc, but instead of the ugly and familiar gray visage, the torso was topped with a bright blue head that seemed to be nothing but mouth. Indeed, it was a huge, triangular maw formed by three spiny mandibles. When Calmet spotted the rows of shiny black teeth, he remembered similar descriptions of beasts from the ethereal plane, though he had never actually seen one.
Laud pointed to the monsters and said, "These creatures are the soldiers of the restored kingdom. You shall lead my Dark Pride. They were formed for strength and not beauty. You are groomed for leadership and revolution, not the passive docility of Pelor. They shall lead the way against the sun worshipers who stole our land and you shall command them as an unholy warrior plenipotentiary."
Calmet tried not to look either startled or frightened, but Laud was sensitive to his lieutenant's misgivings. "Power has many paths. Be certain you do not stand in the way of those who wield more of it than you. Such would be your undoing."The archprelate's smile quickly became menacing. "Yes, I know that power unseen is power doubted. Therefore, I have arranged a demonstration."
17
At first, Yddith couldn't comprehend what had happened. Krusk, her shield and safety, the sanctuary she'd refused to leave since he rescued her entire town from the slavers, had done the unthinkable by attacking a priest of Pelor! What's more, he would certainly have killed Jozan if Alhandra hadn't recognized that Hassq had charmed the barbarian and sent Jozan off to hide in the woods while the rest of the party distracted Krusk.
Yddith knew little about charms but she supposed that Hassq's death must have weakened the spell. After they left the orcs' camp, she, Alhandra, and the surprisingly helpful Qorrg kept asking questions of the barbarian until he simply forgot Hassq's command to kill Jozan.
After an hour on the trail, Yddith begged the party to stop for rest and asked Krusk to sit by her on a fallen log a few paces off the sparse trail they followed.
Yddith didn't know how or why, but she sensed that she had the power to help Krusk as she felt it building within her. She placed her hands in the barbarian's and reveled in the strength as her slender palms and fingers were swallowed by his enormous grip. She held his gaze with her single eye and smiled so that her face sparkled like the emerald that served as her surrogate eye. She spoke in a tone as soothing as a court minstrel's harp and a soft, green glow danced catlike between the emerald and Krusk's coal-black eyes.
Yddith neither saw the worried look on Alhandra's face when the green glow appeared nor observed the paladin reach toward the heavens for discernment. She didn't know that Alhandra's god had revealed a taint of evil in the pale, green aura. She merely spoke soothingly to the barbarian, caressing Krusk verbally with the idea that he was incredibly important to her and that she wanted to share the rest of her life with him. She hadn't even admitted the latter to herself until she said it. For a moment, she wondered if it was true. Then, its rightness washed over her as surely as her words and the glow were washing over Krusk.
Yet, as soon as she was certain that Krusk was susceptible to her suggestions, she averred that Calmet, not Jozan, was the biggest danger to her, as well as the biggest threat to the emerald that Hassq had been trying to protect from Jozan. The last suggestion was an impromptu addition spurred by a glance at Alhandra's disapproving face. Yddith was quickly becoming aware that the emerald had a power that could reach deep inside her and teach her the ways of sorcery. She could tell that the paladin didn't approve of what she was doing, and she didn't want any interference from Alhandra, no matter how well-intentioned.
As Yddith released Krusk's hands, Alhandra stepped forward.
"I assume you realize that your emerald is evil," asserted the paladin.
"Is it?" asked Yddith, innately aware that the paladin was correct.
"I'm afraid I detected a taint of evil, even as you worked that spell," responded Alhandra.
"Glow green!" interrupted Qorrg, "Like Hassq! Bad spell! Qorrg hate Hassq!"
Sensing the conflict, as well as being cap
tivated both by Yddith's spell and the natural charms she wielded even when he wasn't under an enchantment, Krusk interposed his big frame between the nascent sorceress and the unlikely duo of Alhandra and Qorrg. Yddith used the opportunity to express her intent.
"I know the gem is fueled by an evil power, but I'm not evil. By Pelor's grace, I feel that I'm using evil for good."
Yddith could see that her argument wasn't convincing to the paladin as Alhandra shook her head and muttered, "Would that I had a gold piece for every soul who believed that!" The paladin backed away from the barbarian and continued, "I will not interfere, but I will tell you as the taint grows stronger. Perhaps, you'll be wise enough to remove the cursed object before it's too late."
Still, Yddith could see that the paladin was not pleased, and she was relieved when Alhandra turned her attention to the half-orc. As she touched Krusk's forearm, Yddith looked into the barbarian's charmed eyes with an expression that exuded admiration and appreciation. She realized that some of her overt adoration was a disingenuous way of controlling her protector, but she also decided that much of it was real. She felt safe and content in his presence, something she'd never really experienced before.
She observed Alhandra raising her arms once more in supplication to Heironeous, knowing that the paladin was detecting evil on their prisoner. With amusement, she noticed Qorrg himself edging away from Alhandra when he realized that he was the target of the paladin's spell.
The orc lifted up his hands and protested in a stream of northern orc Common, "Qorrg not bad. Hate Hassq. Hassq kill son. Give Gruumsh. Qorrg scared. Serve Hassq. Not like. Hate One-Eye, too!"
Yddith felt as if a forest of trees had been chopped down to reveal a new horizon. With twenty gutteral words of pidgin Common, the orc had explained his cooperative attitude and his previous service to Hassq. Hassq was evidently one of those legendary druids who practiced human sacrifice. Qorrg hated the druid for killing his son, but served the druid because he was frightened of him. It seemed the orc had gained a much-coveted revenge when he killed Hassq, but thirsted for still more if he could get in range of Calmet.
