Pool of Twilight hop-3

by James M. Ward

  "I have no doubt," the elf said dryly. "Now open up!"

  "Oh, all right!" Whorl's gnarled face screwed up in concentration, and suddenly the wood of the tree trunk melded and shifted, revealing a perfectly round portal.

  "Why, thank you, Whorl," Listle said with mock pleasantry. The knot only scowled at her, drawing mossy eyebrows down over glowering eyes.

  "Are you coming, Kern?"

  He supposed he didn't dare say no. With a furtive glance at Whorl, he followed Listle into the dimness of the doorway. The portal snapped shut tightly behind them. Listle whispered an incantation, and a pale sphere of light appeared above her head. Thanks to the magical illumination, Kern could see a stairway leading downward.

  "Listle, where are we?" he demanded.

  "In the dwelling of the green elf, Primul," she replied matter-of-factly, as if it were common knowledge. "Now come on. Primul's arguably the greatest blacksmith in all Faerun-at least in his own opinion, and I've seen no reason to doubt it. If you need a hammer to fight magical foes, this is the place to get it."

  She plunged nimbly down the stairs, with Kern hurrying after her.

  They found themselves in a huge chamber illuminated by some soft, sourceless emerald glow. Kern looked around in wonder. The chamber was perfectly round, its lofty ceiling supported by a tangled web of tree roots. All around were countless glass cabinets filled with the most marvelous weapons Kern had ever laid eyes on: rune-carved broadswords and bright sabres, curved daggers and deadly maces, along with hundreds of other weapons, many of which he could not even identify.

  "Listle, just who is this Primul?"

  "You'll see."

  Suddenly, two sparks of light fluttered into the room. The sparks were almost identical in color, a shimmering aquamarine. Except that one was just a little more green than blue, while the other was just a tad more blue than green. The brilliant sparks whirled about, almost as if excited. Abruptly the two points of light flared brightly and vanished. In their stead stood two of the kindest-looking elderly men Kern had ever seen.

  Both of them were small and frail, their parchment-thin skin drawn over fine bones. Each had long hair and a flowing beard of snowy white, and each clung tightly to a staff with bony hands. By their pointed ears, Kern knew they must be elves, but he had never heard of any elves as wizened as these two. They were clad in robes as white as their hair, and their eyes were the exact same aquamarine hue as the sparks of light had been, one pair blue-green and the other green-blue.

  Listle laughed for joy at the sight of the two ancient elves. "Brookwine! Winebrook!" she cried, embracing them jubilantly. They returned the embrace warmly, smiling two perfect, sweet smiles.

  "It is wonderful-" Brookwine said in a warbling voice.

  "— to see you-" Winebrook went on in a similar tone.

  "— again, friend Listle." Brookwine finished.

  Kern gawked at the two elves. They had spoken so rapidly in turn that it sounded almost as if only one person had been speaking.

  "It has been quite-"

  "— some time since we left-"

  "— Sifahir's tower behind. Will you-"

  "— stay with us for a-"

  "— time, fair Listle?"

  Listle sighed. "Much as I would love to, I'm afraid I can't. I've come on some dire business, Brookwine and Winebrook. It involves my friend here, Kern."

  "Ah, yes!" Brookwine said, raising his snowy eyebrows. "It is the Hammer-"

  "— seeker," Winebrook continued. "We are honored-"

  "— to meet you, young human."

  Unsure how to behave, Kern attempted a stiff bow with at least partial success. "Er, pleased to meet you," he managed to say. He wasn't sure which elf was which.

  "We shall go-"

  "— tell Primul of-"

  "— your coming," the two wizened elves finished together. As quickly as they had materialized, they vanished. The two brilliant specks fluttered out of the chamber.

  "How in the world can you tell them apart, Listle?" Kern asked when they had left.

  "Isn't it easy?" the elf said in a miffed tone. "Brookwine's eyes are blue-green and Winebrook's eyes are green-blue."

  "Oh, of course," Kern mumbled abashedly.

  Suddenly the air of the chamber was shattered by a thunderous voice.

  "Listle Onopordum! Is it truly you?"

  Kern spun around to see what had to be the hugest elf in all the northlands stride into the room. He towered head and shoulders over Kern, his massive shoulders and chest knotted thickly with muscle beneath his forest green tunic. His broad face was open and strikingly handsome. Long golden hair was tied behind his neck with a silver wire. Around his waist was an intricate belt of fine golden links. Rumbling with laughter that shook the tree-hall like an earthquake, the gigantic elf crushed Listle in an embrace.

  After a minute or so, she good-naturedly reminded Primul that she needed to breathe, and he set her down. Kern could only shake his head. So much for the general impression that all elves were delicate and wispy.

  "Now, who is this specimen you've brought to my tree, Listle?" the big elf boomed. He turned his blazing, leaf-green eyes on Kern. "A human whelp?" Kern did his best not to shrink down into the floor.

  "He's a friend, Primul," Listle soothed. "A good friend. I'd like to keep him in one piece."

  Primul snorted. "Suit yourself. Although I'll have you know humans make terribly amusing noises when you pop their limbs off."

  Kern blanched.

  "Primul…" Listle warned.

  "Sorry. Just having a little fun." He grinned broadly at Kern and winked. "No hard feelings, eh?"

  "Of c-c-course not," Kern stammered.

  Primul led the way to an expansive table where he firmly set his guests down and poured them each a cup of pale, sweet mead. The cup handed to Kern was beautifully crafted of silver, inlaid with lapis lazuli. Kern knew it was a vessel fit for a king's hall, but Primul seemed to treat the chalices as if they were made of ordinary clay.

  "Did you see Brookwine and Winebrook?" Primul asked Listle as he quaffed his third cup of mead in as many minutes.

  Listle nodded. "They look wonderful."

  Primul rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, they're better than when Sifahir had them in magical chains, that's for sure. But something tells me they'll never really be their old selves." For a moment a look of sorrow crossed his broad face. Then his expression cheered. "Say, Kern, has Listle ever told you how she helped us escape from the tower of the evil wizard Sifahir?"

  Kern shot a puzzled glance at Listle. What was Primul talking about? The young elf looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  "That's how we met," Primul went on in his rumbling voice. "It was about ten years ago. You see, there was an elven wizard who lived on a small rocky island north of Evermeet, the homeland of the gray elves. His name was Sifahir, and you've never met a wizard with a darker heart. He brought all sorts of people under his enchantment, using them for his wicked purposes until the very life was squeezed out of them. Then he would throw their dried husks away without a second thought"

  The big elf shook his head sadly. "I won't trouble you with all the dark deeds Sifahir performed to become one of the most powerful wizards in Faerun. It would give you a hard time sleeping at night just to think of it. Anyway, I had the misfortune of attracting Sifahir's notice. Folks said I was the best blacksmith in a hundred kingdoms-they were right, of course-and Sifahir heard about me and decided he wanted me to be his own private smith. He sent an army of magical warriors to capture me, and they proved too much even for my axe."

  His leaf green eyes grew distant as he continued. "For two centuries I was imprisoned in Sifahir's tower, forced to forge weapons for him and his minions if I cared to stay alive. After the first fifty years of trying to escape, I gave up all hope. Sifahir's magic was just too strong."

  A realization struck Kern. "Brookwine and Winebrook-they were imprisoned by Sifahir, too?"

  Primul nodded sol
emnly. "They had already been there for several centuries before I was captured. Both of them were mages of great skill, and Sifahir had chained them above the gates of his tower, harnessing and draining their magical power to fuel the vile defenses that surrounded his abode."

  Listle spoke up, her voice heavy with sorrow and her demeanor uncharacteristically subdued. "Sifahir twisted their magic to his own evil purposes, century after century. I don't think we can ever understand what torture that must have been for them. That they survived at all is a wonder. I think it helped that they relied on each other so much, drawing closer and closer until the distinction between their personalities blurred, and they melded almost like one being. Together, they found the strength to survive."

  "But not without consequences," Primul added sadly, pouring another cup of mead. "Once they were strong, handsome elves. Now their bodies are so fragile a good wind might blow them away. And the scars on their spirits are deep.

  The green elf waved a big hand, dispelling the somber atmosphere. "But that is all ancient history. Sifahir had not counted on one of his prisoners being able to walk through walls of stone. Listle was the first person ever to escape from Sifahir's tower. And her ability was such that she took the rest of us with her. For which we shall always be in her debt."

  Listle stood to bow deeply. "It was my pleasure, master-smith."

  Kern scratched his head, trying to absorb this tale. He had never really thought much about Listle's past. He had known she hailed from Evermeet, but that was all. Seeing her in a heroic light would take some adjustment "Listle," he ventured, "you haven't told how you were captured by this Sifahir character."

  For just a moment, all the spark and humor drained out of Listle. She went utterly white. A hand unconsciously crept up to grip the ruby pendant at her throat. Primul shot her a questioning look, one golden eyebrow raised.

  "It isn't important," she said stiffly.

  Kern decided to let it go. Obviously she did not care to relive the painful memory. Someday, Kern vowed silently, this mage Sifahir is going to answer for what he did to Listle and her friends.

  "Besides," Listle said, resuming her typically brisk air, "we have more pressing things to attend to. Or have you forgotten about the Hammer of Tyr, Kern?"

  The two took turns telling the elven blacksmith their story: the riddle of the tome, the plight of the clerics, and the predicament of Phlan. When they had finished, the big elf regarded Kern thoughtfully. "A warhammer for a quest, eh? All right, young human, follow me."

  Primul led them down a side passage that opened into a small chamber, lit by the ruddy glow of a furnace. The smell of hot steel hung sharply on the air, and the walls were lined with all manner of tools: pincers and vises, hammers and bellows.

  The green elf's smithy.

  Primul gestured to a wooden workbench. On it lay the most beautiful hammer Kern had ever seen. Iron and silver were folded together throughout the weapon in a marbled pattern. A ring of silver encircled each head. The haft was etched with fine elven runes. Kern didn't even need to pick it up to know that the hammer was perfectly weighted and balanced.

  "It's beautiful," he said reverently.

  "Actually," Primul countered, "it's flawed. I was trying to forge a new alloy of hard steel and enchanted silver. But the two refused to mix. I can't guarantee that, given a hard enough blow, the hammer won't shatter. Still, if it's magical foes you're fighting, you'll find no weapon with a more potent enchantment than this. It's yours…"

  Kern's eyes lit up in excitement.

  "… if you pass a small test," the elven smith finished, displaying pointed white teeth in a sly smile.

  "A test?"

  "That's right," Primul replied. "After all, I'm not going to give a hammer to just anybody who wanders into my workshop, friend of Listle or not. I have to find out if you're worthy of such a hammer. Will you agree to the test?"

  "Kern," Listle warned. "You might want to hear what the test is first, before you-"

  He cut her off. The warhammer was too wondrous; he simply had to have it. "I'll accept your test, Primul," he said boldly, "and I'll pass it, too."

  "Kern!" Listle groaned.

  "We'll see," was all Primul said.

  The big elf strode to the other side of the chamber. He halted before a table bearing a huge, rune-covered axe. The weapon gleamed eerily in the crimson forge-light.

  Listle shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "I could have negotiated for the hammer, you know," she hissed to Kern.

  "Bargaining isn't honorable," he whispered back.

  "Would-be paladin!" she snorted.

  "The test is simple, human." There was a deep, rumbling mirth in the elven smith's voice. "All you have to do is pick up that axe and lop off my head."

  "What?" Kern thought he had heard the elf wrong.

  "I'll even kneel to make it easier," Primul added. "And I won't resist you in any way. All you have to do is swing the axe. If you're strong enough, my head should come off quite nicely."

  Listle crossed her arms, regarding Primul suspiciously. "That's it? That's the test?"

  "Well, there is one more part," the big blond elf confessed. "After Kern has his swing, if I'm still alive and able, I'll try the same on him. Blow for blow. That's honorable enough."

  "But my blow will kill you," Kern protested.

  Primul shrugged his monumental shoulders. "Then the hammer will be all yours, human." His brow furrowed in a scowl. "You're not reneging on your word of honor, are you?"

  "Never!" Kern didn't much care for chopping off the head of his host, but he didn't know what else he could do. He had agreed to the test. Perhaps Primul doubted Kern was strong enough to wield the heavy hammer. Was that the point? If so, Kern would prove him wrong, with fatal results.

  "Let the test begin!" Primul bellowed. He knelt before Kern, bowing his head and holding aside his long golden hair so that Kern would have a clean view of his neck.

  Kern hefted the heavy battle-axe. It wasn't his usual weapon, but he handled the weighty axe with ease. Besides, how much skill did it take to cut off someone's head? He certainly knew how to chop wood. How different could it be to chop off a head?

  "Kern, you can't do this!" Listle hissed in desperation.

  "I don't seem to have any choice, Listle," he said reluctantly. "He's the one holding me to my word."

  Listle chewed on her lip in frustration.

  "Do it, human!" Primul shouted.

  Kern lifted the axe above his head, its sharp edge gleaming wickedly. He took careful aim at the elf's neck and steeled his will. Tyr forgive me, he murmured inwardly. Then he tensed his shoulders and swung the axe.

  It was an exquisitely honed weapon, and it passed through Primul's neck cleanly.

  Green blood spurted out in a fountain as the big elf's head bounced to the floor. Listle clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Kern dropped the axe, feeling more than just a little sick. He wished he hadn't gone through with it. He had liked the burly elf.

  "Well, at least we've got the hammer," he said grimly.

  "I wouldn't count on that, human."

  It was Primul who had spoken, or rather, the big elf's head. It grinned roguishly where it lay on the floor. Suddenly the big elf's body lurched to its feet, the golden belt about its waist glowing brightly. The fountain of emerald blood slowed to a trickle, then stopped. While Kern and Listle gaped in utter astonishment, Primul's body reached out with groping arms until it located the elf's head. The arms raised the head up and set it back on Primul's shoulders where it belonged. There was a faint sucking sound, and all trace of the gory wound receded.

  Primul laughed and laughed, a rich sound like the tolling of a bell. The big elf was whole once again.

  "Now, human," he said, picking up the axe. "It's your turn!"

  7

  A Dire Message

  "You tricked us, Primul!" Listle fumed.

  "What trick?" the big elf rumbled jovially, patti
ng the fine golden chain around his waist. "Did you ask me if I had a magic belt? I certainly didn't hear you ask me if I had a magic belt."

  "It doesn't matter," she countered, her silver eyes molten with fury.

  "He's right, Listle," Kern said grimly. It had been his mistake to agree to the green elf's test Now he had to bear the consequences.

  "Shut up, Kern," she snapped. "We already know that your skull is full of rocks." She angrily poked a finger against Primul's barrel chest. "Release him from the bargain, Primul. Now."

  "Fine," the elf spat in disgust, his green eyes tinged with fiery crimson. "I'll release you, human, and you can run away with your dishonorable tail between your legs like a cur."

  "No, Primul," Kern said calmly, surprised at the grit in his own voice. "I gave you my word. I won't back down." He held up a hand before Listle could protest. "I know what you're going to say. I have an important quest to complete. That's true. But if I break my word, then I am not a man of honor, and I don't deserve to be a true paladin. Tyr would never allow me to gain his hammer, anyway. It would all be for nothing. At least this way"-he gulped-"I die like a paladin. Tell my parents I died with honor." Kern's heart beat wildly in his chest

  Listle stared at him, too stunned for further protest

  "I'm ready, Primul." Kern knelt and bowed his head.

  "Excellent," the massive elf said, easily hefting the heavy battle-axe in one hand.

  Kern whispered a prayer to Tyr. He hadn't expected things to end up this way, but he hoped Tarl would not be too disappointed in him. At least he had preserved his honor.

  "Prepare to meet your creator, human," Primul said with a deep, hearty chuckle. He raised the axe.

  Kern forced himself to stare ahead. He was determined not to flinch. He would not show himself a coward.

  "Now!" the green elf bellowed fearfully.

  Kern steeled his will. He heard the axe whistling through the air as it descended. But Kern tapped an inner reservoir of strength and determination he did not realize he possessed. He did not even bat an eyelash.

  At the last possible moment, Primul turned his fatal swing. The bright edge of the axe just brushed the skin of Kern's neck, nicking it. Kern felt a small, hot trickle of blood run down his back. Primul's good-natured laughter filled the chamber.