Forge of the Mindslayers botf-2

by Tim Waggoner

  The female shifter-the children's mother, Ghaji supposed-lifted a trembling hand in the direction of her children, as if she still hoped to do something, anything to save them, or perhaps simply wanted to offer one last bit of motherly comfort to their departing souls. Chagai noted the movement and with a swift motion thrust his sword blade into the back of the woman's head. She shuddered once and then fell still.

  Chagai then turned to Ghaji and gave him a wide grin. "Good sport tonight, eh?"

  Ghaji knew the camaraderie in the orc leader's tone was meant as both a compliment and a thank-you for his slaying of the wood-wright. Chagai was, for the very first time, treating Ghaji as if he were an equal. It was what Ghaji had wanted so long and worked so hard for, so why didn't it mean anything to him now?

  He stared at the red wet chunks of meat that only a short time ago had been a pair of children sleeping peacefully in their beds. Then he forced himself to return Chagai's grin, though he feared it came out more like a grimace.

  "Good sport."

  Ghaji felt a small elbow jab him in the ribs, and he looked down to see Hinto frowning at him.

  "Unless you want your lady love to think you're losing interest in her, you'd best pay more attention, Greenie," the halfling whispered.

  Ghaji hated it when Hinto called him that, but he was so grateful to be pulled out of the memory of that awful night at the wood-wright's cottage that he nodded, took another sip of his bilge-water ale, and refocused his attention on Yvka. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't completely chase away the image of the mother's trembling hand, reaching out to her children one last time before she died.

  Skarm thanked whatever dark powers watched over barghests that the elf-woman had gotten up from her table, taken up a position in a corner of the common room, and started juggling. Her companions-including the elderly artificer-were watching her with rapt attention, providing him with a perfect distraction. He'd been observing the elf-woman's act along with the rest of the audience, and he noted that her tricks had become increasingly more complex, and she performed them with increasing speed. He sensed that she was building toward the climax of her act, and once she reached it…

  The elf-woman was currently juggling a quintet of spheres that appeared to be formed of solid light. She hurled all five toward the ceiling of the common room, and they merged together, forming a large light sculpture of a dragon in flight. The drake's eyes blazed and a glittering stream of what seemed to be diamonds poured forth from its open mouth. There were awed murmurs of appreciated from the audience as the diamonds swirled through the air, circling the room above the people's heads, the illusion so realistic that more than a few men and women reached up to try to snag a diamond for themselves. The light dragon then began to glow bright as a summer sun, and all in attendance were utterly transfixed by the sight, breathless with anticipation of what would happen next…

  Now! Skarm thought, and made his move.

  Hinto knew that Yvka was performing a trick, that the dragon wasn't real and couldn't hurt him, but that knowledge did nothing to prevent the feeling of panic that coiled tight within his belly and which threatened to spring free any instant. As the light dragon glowed more intensely, he averted his gaze and stared down at the surface of the table, gripping its wooden edge tight. He told himself to hold on, to ride the panic out. He'd spent his lifetime on the sea, and he'd learned how to weather storms before he could walk. And not just any storms-those on the Lhazaar were rougher and deadlier than anywhere else in all the vast oceans of Eberron. If he could survive the Lhazaar's fury, he should be able to withstand something as simple as his own fear.

  Since his time shipwrecked in the Mire, fear was no longer so simple for Hinto. Intense, overwhelming, paralyzing… it grabbed hold of him with ice-cold hands and crushed him in its grip, reducing him to a quivering mass of terror. He knew his friends understood-even Ghaji, who pretended to be gruff and unfriendly much of the time-and while Hinto appreciated their understanding, he didn't want them to pity him, and he didn't want his fear-attacks to cause him to let them down when they needed him, like yesterday in the lich's lair, the latest in a string of similar incidences over the last several months. So far, his panic and resultant inability to act hadn't caused injury or death to any of his friends, but Hinto feared that it was only a matter of time before it did. He had to get control of himself, had to learn to master his fear-not just for himself but for his friends.

  Hinto was not looking at Yvka's light dragon when a cloaked and hooded goblin crept up next to Tresslar and snatched the artificer's dragonwand from under his belt. As soon as the goblin had the wand in hand, he dashed for the door.

  Hinto cried out, "Tresslar, your wand!" and leaped out of his seat in pursuit of the thief. A lifetime at sea had kept Hinto strong and lean. He weaved between tables and chairs-sometimes ducking under tabletops if necessary-and caught hold of the goblin's cloak before the thief could reach the door.

  Hinto spun the goblin around and took hold of his shoulders with a firm grip to make sure he didn't try to run again. "Here, now, what do you think-"

  Hinto broke off as he saw the goblin's scarred visage, the eyes that blazed with orange fire, the mouthful of teeth far sharper than any ordinary goblin's should be. The halfling felt a sudden cold fluttering in his stomach and in his mind he saw tentacles rising out of the sea, swaying slowly in the darkness as they cast about in search of prey. The tentacles ended in tiny mouths that opened and closed hungrily…

  Hinto let out a soft cry and released his hold on the goblin. He staggered back, his entire body shaking, his knees gone weak as water. His head swam, the world titled, and he collapsed to the earthen floor and shook like a leaf caught in a gale-force wind. He struggled to regain control of his body, but it was no good. His fear held him completely in thrall, and all he could do was watch in despair and shame as the goblin-or whatever it was-made for the door.

  He's going to get away with Tresslar's wand, and it's all my fault!

  Just as the goblin's hand-a hand that was now clawed and covered with gray fur-reached for the door handle, a small sphere came arcing from the far side of the common room. Yvka had hurled one of her juggling balls at the creature. The goblin looked up in time to see the smooth wooden sphere coming at him, and in reflex he lifted his free hand and caught the ball before it could strike him.

  The goblin sneered. "Is that the best you can-" Crackling tendrils of blue-white energy erupted from the ball, ran up his arm and covered his entire body. There was an acrid smell of burning fur, and the goblin let out an animalistic howl of pain. He dropped the dragonwand, but though he tried to let go of the lightning-ball, it seemed affixed to his hand, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake it loose.

  Diran and Ghaji were up and moving toward the wounded goblin, weapons drawn and ready. Hinto tried once more to rise to his feet so he could help his friends, but his body still refused to obey him and all he could do was continue to lie trembling on the floor and observe.

  Diran and Ghaji reached the goblin, and the creature slammed his wrist into the wall. There was a sickening sound of bones snapping, but the impact was sufficient to break the lightning-ball's hold, and the sphere tumbled from the goblin's hand. As soon as the ball was no longer in contact with the goblin's flesh, the lightning cocoon that surrounded him winked out, and he was free. He bent down to snatch up the dragonwand once more, but Diran hurled a dagger. The blade thunked into the ground next to the wand, sinking into the earth up the hilt, the cross-piece pinning the mystical object to the floor. The goblin looked up at Diran and snarled, and the orange light in his eyes seemed to blaze outward as if it were tongues of angry flame. The goblin's form blurred and shifted, and when it came into focus once more, the goblin had become a humanoid wolf-creature that Hinto recognized as a barghest-the barghest, he realized, the one they'd encountered yesterday in the lich's lair.

  Ghaji stepped forward to attack the beast, his elemental axe bur
sting into flame, but the barghest, whose body still bore burnt patches from the wounds he'd suffered during their last battle, howled in frustration and threw itself back against the door. Already shaky from the appearance of the Coldhearts earlier, the door gave way easily beneath the barghest's weight, and the creature tumbled out into the street. Ghaji ran outside after it, Diran following close behind.

  Tresslar ran past Hinto and crouched down next to his wand. He pried Diran's dagger free, then reclaimed his most prized mystical object, gripping it tight as if he feared someone else might attempt to steal it. Yvka came over and knelt down next to Hinto. The elf-woman slowly stroked his sweaty hair with one hand, while she gently took hold of his with the other.

  "It's all right, Hinto. The creature didn't get Tresslar's wand, and Diran and Ghaji will take care of him."

  Hinto gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of tremors wracked his body. It wasn't all right, and he didn't know if it was ever going to be again.

  The fog still blanketed Perhata's dockside, and if it hadn't been for the light given off by Ghaji's blazing axe, Diran wouldn't have been able to see anything. As it was, he could see very little, and he certainly didn't see any sign of the barghest.

  "I can't get his scent," Ghaji said. "Too many other smells here-the ocean, dead fish, and other odors I'd rather not discuss, so either you call upon the Silver Flame for guidance, or we pick a direction and start searching."

  Diran considered. Barghests were infernal creatures, and while they were hardly all-powerful, they were swift-especially in full wolf form. The odds that he and Ghaji would be able to track a wolf, and an intelligent one at that, on a fog-shrouded night such as this were hardly favorable.

  "We stopped it from taking Tresslar's dragonwand and drove it off," Diran said. "That's enough for one night, don't you think?"

  Ghaji doused the flames of his axe, and the darkness closed in around them. "It galls me to let the creature go, especially since this is our second encounter with him. You think he followed us into town just to get hold of Tresslar's wand?"

  "Perhaps. The barghest might wish to take revenge on the ones who destroyed his mistress and wounded him."

  "Why try to steal the wand? That doesn't seem like much of a revenge to me."

  "Barghests are magical creatures, and it's not unreasonable to think this one might have some mystical knowledge of his own. Perhaps he intended to use the dragonwand as a weapon against us." Even as he said it, Diran didn't think much of his theory. He sensed there was something more to the barghest's attempted theft of Tresslar's wand, but he couldn't say what. "Whatever the case, I think that we should make tracking down and slaying this barghest our next order of business."

  Ghaji grinned and tightened his grip on his axe. "Where do we start?"

  "I think you may have to put your plans on hold for a time-say, forever."

  Diran still had hold of one of the daggers he'd drawn when Hinto had alerted them to the barghest's presence. Now he didn't hesitate; he threw the dagger in the direction the voice-Haaken's voice-came from, but before Diran could tell whether his blade had found its target, a large shape came at them out of the darkness, and he felt the heavy mesh of a fishing net descend upon them. The net was heavy enough on its own, but it was weighted down with lead balls at the edges to help it sink into the sea more effectively. It forced Diran and Ghaji to their knees. Ghaji's axe flared bright, and Diran knew his friend intended to burn their way free of the net. Not one to wait on someone else to save him, Diran pulled a dagger from one of the hidden sheathes sewn into the inner lining of his cloak and began sawing away at the net's mesh. They only needed a few seconds, and then they would-

  Haaken stepped forward until Diran could make out the dim outline of his form. "You don't really think we'd give you a chance to escape, do you?"

  His hand shot forth, and he released a fine amber powder into the air. The powder diffused into a small yellow cloud that surrounded Diran and Ghaji, and though the two companions knew enough to hold their breath, Haaken and another of the Coldhearts stepped forward-they had scraps of cloth tied over their noses and mouths, Diran saw-and kicked them in the ribs. Breath exploded from their lungs, and then in reflex, they breathed in. Whatever the drug was, it was powerful, and it took effect immediately. Diran saw Ghaji's axe-flame extinguish as the half-orc lost consciousness.

  Diran felt his own body begin to go numb, and as darkness rushed in to take him, he heard Haaken say, "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be."

  Asenka was on the way back to the King Prawn with a detachment of three Sea Scorpions when they nearly collided with Haaken and his people in the fog. The Coldhearts were carrying something wrapped in a fishing net-something that looked suspiciously like two bodies, and she had a damn good idea who those bodies belonged to.

  Asenka drew her sword, and her people did the same. "If you want to leave Perhata alive, Haaken, you'll put them down now."

  Haaken grinned. "We outnumber you two to one, Asenka." Only four of Haaken's people carried the net-wrapped bodies. The other four, Haaken included, had their swords in hand, and they now touched the points of their blades to their captives. "Unless you want us to gut these two here and now, I suggest you make way and allow us safe passage."

  Asenka thought swiftly. If she let the Coldhearts go, they'd simply kill Diran and Ghaji later, but if she attempted to stop them here, Diran and Ghaji would be skewered, and she doubted she'd be able to get them to a healer before they perished. As much as it galled her, she didn't see how she had any choice.

  "Very well, Haaken. You have safe passage." She stepped aside and motioned for her people to do the same. She lowered her sword, though she didn't sheathe it. She wasn't stupid enough to give Haaken the opportunity to kill her in the bargain.

  "A wise decision, Asenka," the Coldheart leader said. "I always thought there was a reasonable person underneath that cold bitch exterior." He laughed, and his people joined in. "One more thing: I was thinking of just slicing your friends' throats and dumping them over the side for the sharks, but I've decided these two deserve something a bit more special, so we're going to drop them off on Demothi Island."

  Asenka felt a cold stab of fear pierce her gut. "You can't be serious!"

  Haaken laughed even harder. He motioned for his people to move out, and the Coldhearts continued on toward the docks, bearing their captives off to their horrible fate.

  Demothi Island…

  Asenka wondered if it wouldn't have been kinder to let Haaken kill Diran and Ghaji outright. She turned to her people. "Head for the barracks and alert the others that the Coldhearts are making for the dock. Stop them if you can. I'm going to the King Prawn to alert Diran's companions."

  From what she'd learned about his friends during her conversation with Diran, she thought they might have just as good a chance of saving Diran and Ghaji as the Sea Scorpions would-maybe better.

  As the rest of the detachment ran off to carry out their commander's order, Asenka ran in the direction of the King Prawn. She only hoped that she'd get there before Haaken and his people could make sail.

  Makala soared above the buildings of dockside in bat form, wheeling and darting above the fog layer, exulting in the beauty of moon and starlight and the delicious freedom of not being shackled to the ground. She'd considered attempting to speak with Diran tonight, but it had been months since he'd allowed her to choose death at his hands or life as a vampire, and though she'd kept watch over him ever since, she hadn't so much as allowed him to see her, let alone speak to him. She thought perhaps he was aware of her presence from time to time, but if so, he'd never sought her out. Perhaps he didn't want to see her again. Perhaps he regretted his decision to let her live. He was a priest of the Silver Flame, one of the Purified, dedicated to destroying evil in all its myriad manifestations. Perhaps Diran had been avoiding her because he knew that if they encountered one another again, he'd be forced to destroy her.

  Maybe she was s
imply afraid of witnessing the revulsion in his eyes once he saw how much she had become a creature of the night since they'd parted. Every night she awoke she felt there was less of the woman Makala left in her and more of the dark thing she was becoming. It had taken Erdis Cai the better part of four decades to lose the last shreds of his humanity. Makala, perhaps because of the dark spirit she'd once played host to, seemed to be changing far more swiftly. She wondered how much longer it would be before the woman she had been truly died at last, and she became a monster in both body and soul. Look at what she'd done-or almost done-to Asenka tonight. Simply because she'd been jealous, she'd threatened the woman, been tempted to feed on her, even though she'd fed on Eneas earlier.

  No, she couldn't see Diran again, not in person. She would just have to content herself with acting as his unseen guardian, watching over him and helping him secretly whenever she could.

  Though it was not yet midnight, Makala was weary-in spirit if not in body-and she decided to fly back to the dock and return to the Boundless and her obsidian sarcophagus. Perhaps if she were lucky, she'd fall into the torpor that vampires experienced instead of sleep before the dawn. If not… well, at least she'd be locked away where she could do no further harm this night.

  As Makala drew near the docks, she felt the pull of the ocean. It tugged at her, as if exerting some form of magnetic force, urging her to come closer so that it could reach out with liquid hands and pull her down into its cold dark depths. It was as if all water-so vital to life-despised the undead and wanted nothing more than to destroy them. Though minor bodies of water such as streams and small rivers exerted the same pull, they were mere annoyances to vampires. Resisting the power of a sea took a great deal of strength. The sooner Makala was back aboard the Boundless and safe within her black coffin, the better.