The pig-eyed leader suddenly stuck his dripping snout up close to Tarl's face. "You have power stone? Ioun stone? Give us stone, you live. No stone, we kill. Power to the pool!"
"Ioun stone?" Tarl repeated, puzzled.
"No ioun stone?" the leader started to snort. "Kill! Kill them!"
The spell was broken. Tarl smashed his shield hard into the orc's pig face and started swinging his hammer with a vengeance. Ren lunged forward, slashing and hacking madly with his short swords, parrying as he had never parried before to block cudgels and axes descending all around him.
Shal swung her staff high and brought it down hard, repeatedly, sending several humanoids within her range sprawling, but there were many more. She could not see, but could hear and sense, the flight of several daggers and arrows, weapons that all her swinging could not protect her against. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ren taken down by a vicious blow to his abdomen. Tarl was barely managing to keep the pressing masses of orcs and hobgoblins away from overwhelming him. She knew that she and the others would soon be beaten senseless.
An axe bit deep into her shoulder as she took her next swing. Her scream of pain and terror was voiceless… as was the cry of her familiar! The staff! The Staff of Power! Use it now!
"Halcyon!" shouted Shal, and she extended the staff toward the frenzied beasts around her. "Harak!" Brilliant electricity, nearly the color of amethyst, coursed up and down the staff's surface. Bolts of lightning arced out in all directions. She spoke another word, and small, purple balls of flame crackled from the tip, doubling in size with each inch they traveled. With yet another word, deafening thunder shook the building to its foundation. The screams of sizzling humanoids rose up everywhere. Shal turned, and more lightning bolts and fireballs flew from the staff. Doglike kobolds burned to charred stumps. The fatty flesh of orcs and goblins spattered and sizzled. Shal turned yet again, but this time there were no takers. The handful of unscathed humanoids that remained were bolting away as fast as they could go, barking, squealing, and screaming like wild animals fleeing a forest fire.
Shal slumped to the ground, her fists clenched white around the staff as blood spurted from the gash in her shoulder. She stared numbly at her two friends, each of whom was in turn staring open-mouthed at her.
All around them was wreckage. Shal's lightning bolts had blasted huge holes in the building's already damaged ceilings and walls, and the smoldering remains of dead humanoids lay everywhere. Shal slowly turned her head from side to side in disbelief, awed by the power she held within her grasp. She had never before killed, never been party to such wholesale destruction. She had also never been so consumed or driven by terror-fear for herself and fear for her companions-but she knew that she would react the same way again if confronted with the same situation. She looked at her friends, who were still staring at her in amazement.
When he could stir himself out of his shock, Tarl reached out and pressed his hands to Shal's bloodied shoulder. The power of Tyr flowed warm and strong, and he could feel the healing surge through his fingertips. Once again he experienced an overwhelming bond to the red-haired fighter-mage. As he healed her, he somehow felt the key to his own wholeness.
Shal reached up and pressed her hands over Tarl's. "Thank you. Please… please help Ren now."
Tarl snatched his hands away, ashamed that he could have forgotten his other companion for even a moment. He placed one hand on each of Ren's firm, muscular shoulders, Tarl could feel the pain of untold bruises, and he sensed internal damage where Ren had taken the blow to the stomach. Tarl waited for the healing warmth to flow through his hands. Once it did, he spoke. "You should feel better, but when we get back, you must rest. I can do little more."
"I can't think of a time when I've felt better," said Ren cheerily, shaking himself from his own stunned silence. "I mean, what more can a fellow ask? You carry on friendly conversations with orcs, she packs a weapon that even the gods must find frightening, and then you patch us up besides. We've even managed to fulfill our mission and collect some bonus information for the council."
"How's that?" Tarl asked.
"The old armory, the stuff about the shiny pool where the boss fellow, that 'Lord of the Ruins,' gets his power-that wasn't anything we agreed to dig up for Cadorna."
"That's true, but we still aren't done here," said Tarl.
"Not done!" exclaimed Shal. "I've had more than enough adventure for one day, thank you. Skeletons… oversized fly-slurpers… orcs and kobolds… You've got to understand, I used to get tired just dusting Ranthor's laboratory."
"But the skeletons… my brothers, the clerics of Tyr," Tarl insisted. "They still walk the keep."
"They seem pretty quiet, though," said Ren. "You calmed them down."
"Yes, but they're not at rest. I can feel it! They're still undead, tormented souls. I need to go to the temple and try to find out for myself what keeps them so agitated."
Ren stood and reached his hand down to help Shal to her feet. "I guess we can take a tour of the temple with him, don't you think? I mean, if it weren't for Tarl, you and I probably would have been killed by the skeletons- that is, if the cloud over this place hadn't killed us first."
Shal gave Ren's hand a squeeze, and then reached out and squeezed Tarl's. "Let's go, then," she said. "I really think we should get out of this place before dark."
Skeleton warriors were still milling in the entryway, but they did nothing to stop the three. Tarl lifted the latch on the ornately carved door to the temple and pushed. The altar inside was covered with dust, but it had not suffered from dragonfire. A lone specter flitted back and forth before the altar. Instead of moaning or screaming, it was shouting oath after oath, curse after curse.
Tarl felt his breathing speed at the sight of the ghostly visage. Its appearance reminded him of the vampire's minions. Tarl swallowed and struggled to get his breathing under control. With considerable effort, he spoke clearly and deliberately. "Who are you, brother, and what is troubling you?" Tarl asked.
The specter continued to flit up and down and back and forth among the tables and seats in the temple, but in between oaths, it spoke in a gravelly voice. "Ferran Martinez… I am Ferran Martinez, ruling cleric of the sacred order of Tyr. I am the high cleric who remained in the temple while each of my men died, then died of starvation myself because I could not bear to go outside and face them. The bloody dragons came. They burned and killed and left our mission's work undone."
"What keeps you undead, Brother Martinez? What work remains undone? Can I be of help?" Ren and Shal just looked on as Tarl coaxed and soothed the agitated apparition.
The creature swung its phantom arms straight through the altar repeatedly, as if to strike it, but managed only to knock over several dust-coated candlesticks from the flurry of wind it generated. "Devils to the Abyss! Blast them in the fiery furnace! Sleep, men! Rest." He ended in a piteous scream.
"Brother Martinez, can I help?" Tarl repeated.
"The city of Phlan is dead! Monsters! Nothing but monsters! And the temple… it was never used. We had just finished building it, but there were no worshipers, only the clerics who built it. No peace in the city! No peace! Nothing but walking dead and unending nightmares… and the Lord of the Ruins, Tyranthraxus, still lives! Cursed creature from the pit! Power-grabbing blasphemer! May his soul rot!"
"They've reconstructed part of the city, Brother Martinez. It's civilized again. In fact, they call the new part Civilized Phlan."
" 'Civilized Phlan'?" the specter repeated, then grew still and floated closer to Tarl.
Tarl flinched involuntarily but stood firm. "Yes, and we're building a new temple to Tyr. That's why I came, to aid others in the construction and startup of the new temple."
"A new temple to Tyr? Then you can use the holy scale?" The specter whisked to the altar and pulled back a cloth. A silver balance, the balance of Tyr, God of War and Justice, stood on the table. "You will see that this gets used in the new temple?"
>
Tarl dropped down on one knee, both awed and humbled at the prospect of being given a second chance to deliver a holy symbol of his god to the temple in Phlan. "I will see that the scale sits proudly on the altar of the temple in Phlan."
"Then I can at last rest," said Ferran Martinez, "and so can our brothers." He held the scale out to Tarl, and Tarl wrapped it carefully in the cloth that had covered it for five decades.
And the apparition of Ferran Martinez reclined at the foot of the altar, with its ethereal hands folded across its chest, and vanished in a puff of mist.
Outside the keep, the grounds stood empty. No skeletal warriors walked the courtyard. In fact, the most noticeable thing was the sunshine that filled the sky over Thorn Island. The brilliant orange of the setting sun glistened unimpeded off the walls of the temple and the tall grasses that covered the courtyard.
6
Restless Spirits
When he heard that the three tavern brawlers had actually returned from Thorn Island, Porphyrys Cadorna left his dinner and rushed to the council chambers. He had waited anxiously before for the return of other groups, but he had always been disappointed. This time he had intentionally gone about his normal business, not wanting to waste his energies only to be left disappointed. But the three were back, and according to Cadorna's attendant, they claimed to carry proof of their success. The councilman positioned himself at the dais and signaled for the attendant to let them enter. He would inform the rest of the council of his victory when he was sure of their achievements and not before.
The cleric, Tarl Desanea, entered first, followed by the big man who called himself Ren o' the Blade and the young mage, Shal Bal. They were covered with dirt and grime, and from the big man's movements, Cadorna could see he was struggling with some great pain. Still, they made an impressive trio. Cadorna felt a chill run through him at the thought of meeting any of these three under less than amicable circumstances.
"So… what have you learned that will help us recover Thorn Island?" Cadorna asked after thumping his gavel twice, as if to silence a nonexistent audience.
"We have certain useful information, and with the help of the mighty Tyr, the Even-Handed, we have also succeeded in quelling the undead forces that made Sokol Keep uninhabitable," announced Tarl, bowing before Cadorna with as much formality as he could muster. "The resettling of Thorn Island may begin immediately."
This was splendid, more than Cadorna could have hoped for! He wanted to appear pleased, but he didn't want these three to think that their obligation to the court was so easily fulfilled. He gazed down from the dais, his eyes gleaming with avarice. "You say it is so, but how do I know it is so?" Cadorna waved his hand at the three in an encompassing gesture. "Even assuming you have been to the island, how can I be sure it is safe to send our citizens there to settle that blackened rock?"
Tarl proceeded to tell the story of their encounters at the keep, with Ren and Shal occasionally adding details. They described the odd triangular medallion they found on the frog and the humanoids' strange rantings about the Lord of the Ruins and "power to the pool." They deleted mention only of Shal's Staff of Power.
Cadorna could hardly contain his excitement. He had manipulated these pawns perfectly, gaining a foothold with the Lord of the Ruins by warning him of their mission and earning the trust of the three by alerting them to the likelihood of encountering orcs or hobgoblins. And they had even brought him new information about the Lord of the Ruins and the magical stones he was seeking! Perhaps, one day, these three might even be able to find such stones or the lair of the Lord of the Ruins for him… But first things first. He still needed proof of their day's work-perhaps a little something to add to his own coffers. "What you have told me is good news indeed, but how do I know these things are true?" Cadorna prodded.
"We bear artifacts, magical artifacts, from the armory and from the Tyrian Temple at Sokol Keep." Tarl held out the scale. "This is a treasured holy artifact. I am sworn by the late Brother Martinez to donate it to the temple in Phlan." Ren produced the dagger and Tarl the hammer they had found in the armory. "And these are the magical items. Even now you will notice a faint glow…"
Cadorna pulled back as Tarl moved the hammer toward him for his examination. "Yes… yes, I see." Cadorna hated blunt objects. He had no interest in the hammer, but the dagger would be his to use or trade, a small token from the council for sensing the exact nature of the dangers at Sokol Keep and sending exactly the right party to tame the island. "You may keep the hammer for your efforts," he pronounced beneficently. "The dagger you will place on deposit with the court attendant before you leave. And, of course, the scale you will relay to your temple."
What a shame, thought Cadorna, that the solid silver balance cannot also be confiscated, but with the cleric's testimony a matter of council record, he dare not risk it. Cadorna eyed the throne intensely before going on. "And the island-has the shadow lifted?"
"Yes," answered Shal excitedly. "As we left, the afternoon sun was shining gloriously on the cliffs. The whole bay looks different-"
"You needn't babble on," Cadorna said sternly. "I'm satisfied that you've fulfilled the goals of this mission. In fact, you all deserve further reward, but I will not know the verdict of the full council with regard to such rewards as you may have coming for at least another day. In the meantime, I'd like you to think about the possibility of completing a small task for me one day soon. I happen to believe you are the perfect party for the assignment."
Ren bristled a little at what he read as a couched threat. The way Cadorna leaned over the dais, clasping and unclasping his hands and making fleeting eye contact with each of them, left Ren with no doubt that Cadorna could and would make life very difficult for the trio if they did not at least attempt to complete Cadorna's "small task."
"We'll be in town," said Ren matter-of-factly. "You can leave a message for us at the Laughing Goblin Inn."
"Count on it," Cadorna said crisply, sensing Ren's resistance. "You are free to go now-with the understanding that you are on call to me and this council until further notice."
On the side of the city opposite Civilized Phlan, the farthest corner of the uncivilized part, a great dragon was listening to the whimpering excuses of a liver-bellied kobold, two gutless orcs, and a recreant hobgoblin. The beast met their vacant, yellow-eyed stares with its gleaming eyes, and they saw their master, the Lord of the Ruins, for the first time.
"A party of three defeated an army of fifty?" The dragon clawed the ground and spewed a jet of flame from its nostrils. "You let them tame Sokol Keep? Idiots! Clods! Humans will flood into Phlan by the shipload and gain new footholds in my portion of the city! Incompetent slugs! Die as your companions did!" The dragon exhaled, and lightning flashed and crackled about them. Before they could finish their screams, the four were encompassed in flames. In moments, their bodies had melted and drained into the golden, crescent-shaped pool nearby.
Where the incinerated remains of the humanoids met the bright water of the pool, it bubbled and boiled, blazing with the intensity of polished gold in direct sunlight. The dragon turned and lumbered slowly into the pool. In the physical portion of its brain, which reflected raw instinct and reaction, the only part still controlled by the original persona of the dragon, the water registered as hot… very hot. The dragon flinched and tried to back out of the pool. It took the power of a trenchant will to force the physical body to scald itself in exchange for the pulsing energy the water would bestow. The will was that of Tyranthraxus, the Great Possessor.
It was the will of Tyranthraxus that commanded the dragon to submerge its entire body in the pool. When it did, power-undiluted power-flowed from the pool to the dragon, and the creature commanded a hundred more humanoid slaves into it presence.
Kobolds, orcs, gnolls, and other strange creatures of the ruins flocked to the heart of Valjevo Castle, the lair of the Lord of the Ruins. Their eyes glazed over with yellow, they never saw the creature that controlled t
hem.
"Hear me, slaves! You will spread the word that there is a price on the heads of those three, more treasure than any of you can imagine… You will also procure for me two more ioun stones. When you do, I will complete the circle of power, and I will rule all of Phlan… and much more."
"I didn't realize you were still hurting so from that blow to your stomach," Shal said, touching Ren gently on the arm as they left the council room. "Here…" She took his arm and pulled it up over her shoulder, then slipped her own arm around his waist. "Let me help you."
Ren glanced over his shoulder at Tarl and grinned in delight. "Thanks. That's better. I'm sure by the time you walk me all the way to my room, I'll be feeling much better." He pulled Shal a little closer and spread his hand on her firm waist.
"As Tyr is my witness, don't you think you're a little big to be leaning on the lady for support?" asked Tarl.
"I'll be fine," said Shal, not waiting for Ren to answer. "All this size and strength has to be good for something besides climbing ropes and looking homely. I mean, you guys wouldn't even let me row the boat."
Ren glanced over his shoulder at Tarl and winked again. "She'll be fine. I won't lean too hard."
Tarl glowered and bared his teeth in a half-mocking, half-serious warning. When they reached the inn, Sot treated them to a huge feast. Later, Tarl made a point of accompanying Ren and Shal to Ren's room in the loft.
Ren moved swiftly from the door to the window, checking both, as was his habit, to see that they weren't followed and then securing them to make sure no one could enter. He unbuckled the fastenings on his leather breastplate and then tugged gingerly to remove the armor. Shal was about to reach over and help, but Tarl stepped between them and carefully removed the breastplate. "I can make a poultice for you. You won't be smelling too good while you wear it, but I think you'll find it soothing."
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