“I am Artur Bladeson.” The biggest of the three men gave Ren a toothy grin. “These cubs behind me are my cousins, Wuldor and Donar Arcnos. We are traveling to Vaasa to visit relatives in Moortown. Can you tell us of any trouble in the lands between there and here?”
On the opposite side of the camp, the druids talked in hushed tones. “Look how the wolves are growling at Miltiades,” Talenthia whispered to Andoralson. “Could they be sensing your illusion magic?”
“No, but they could be detecting that he’s an undead creature. I’ll have to work on putting scent into my illusions. I don’t usually bother. I hope you noticed those wolves aren’t really wolves.”
Meanwhile, Evaine and the barbarian sized up the strangers.
Mistress, Gamaliel mentally communicated, those men do not smell human. And those huge wolves are just waiting for the chance to attack. He stood facing the three men like a pillar of stone, blocking their view of Evaine.
Ren senses something strange, too. I can tell by his posture. There’s no question he’s on the defensive. Let’s follow his lead, Evaine silently told her comrade.
The wolves continued to growl at Miltiades, all the while shooting wary glances at Gamaliel.
“Brutus, Tog, Garf, shut up! These fine people have invited us into their camp. The least we can do is be civil. Wuldor, take those curs away and settle them down.”
Wuldor smelled like wet fur. Ren couldn’t help but crinkle his nose as the man passed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen wolves used as mounts before. Are you druids?” Ren tried to break the uneasiness between the two sides.
The three men laughed in an odd, barking manner.
“Druids,” Donar said, choking with laughter. “No disrespect to those two over there, but even druids couldn’t tame our three pets. We live with these beasts, and they do what we tell them.”
“Your friends don’t talk much,” Artur said, warming his hands by the fire.
“They just woke up,” Ren said evenly. He walked to the opposite side of an already blazing fire and added more logs. He felt compelled to get these men on their way as soon as possible. “The paths to Vaasa are clear—I just came from there. Phlan has suffered the wrath of the gods and has disappeared. Only a patch of tents marks the place where the city once stood. But you shouldn’t have much trouble passing through. What do you know of Zhentil Keep and Yulash?”
“I heard that Phlan was gone,” said Artur, “but I figured it to be a rumor. You’ve seen it, then?” Ren nodded. Artur’s gaze shifted about the camp. “You people seem a little tense. Let’s share some food. There’s no reason we can’t be friends, eh?” he said, trying to act more congenial than he looked. All the companions instinctively felt he was hiding something.
Wuldor, still tending to the wolves, spoke to Ren. “If you’re traveling south, stay away from Zhentil Keep. Something has stirred up the evil in that gods-cursed city. We lost a brother there when we tried to conduct some business for our master. Some frenzied priests of Bane attacked us without reason.”
None of this surprised Ren. Zhentil Keep was always a place to avoid, and Wuldor described what might well have been daily events.
Wuldor was slapping the wolves and casting strange glances toward the campfire. “Something is odd about the forests and trails to the south of Zhentil Keep. We tore through them because they didn’t smell or feel right. There’s a growing evil.”
“Yulash, on the other hand, is fine. No problems,” Donar said, taking packs of meat from his saddlebags. He quickly whittled a branch into a spit and hung some meat over the fire for roasting.
Do you see what kind of meat that is, Gam? Evaine silently voiced to the barbarian.
I smell what kind of meat it is. Should we attack now? The barbarian’s eyes shifted from pale green to a deep golden color.
Let me get Ren away from them. When I give the signal, I’ll go for the humans—you attack the wolves. Maybe we can disable one or two of them before they have a chance to metamorphose, she told the barbarian. She raised her voice and spoke to the druids. “Talenthia, I think you should prepare your new chalice for our friends’ visit. You know, the one that makes that wonderful wine.” Evaine hoped the two would pick up on her hint.
The sorceress mentally readied a spell. “Ren, could you help me for a moment? That clumsy barbarian has the straps of my backpack all tied in knots.”
The ranger arose, giving Gamaliel a puzzled look. He pulled a dagger from his boot and stepped toward Evaine. But as he did so, she rounded the campfire and yelled, “Attack!”
Eighteen missiles of magical energy shot from her hands and struck Artur’s chest, albeit with little effect. The camp was suddenly filled with the shouts of the companions and the flash of spells. But the three strangers and their wolves reacted almost in slow motion.
Artur rose from his place by the fire. As he stood, he transformed, as did his cousins, into a werewolf. Dark fur sprouted all over their bodies. Each man grew in height, expanding muscles rippling along their arms and legs. The change was nearly instantaneous, but these monsters weren’t in any hurry. They relied on the horrifying transformations to help frighten their victims.
The three wolves grew from huge, four-legged shapes into large and deadly half-human forms, known through Faerun as wolfweres. The three new creatures launched themselves at Evaine, knowing the spellcaster was the greatest threat to them. The creature that had been Wuldor, now eight feet tall, moved to block Gamaliel.
The barbarian’s sword landed solidly on the wolfwere causing little more than a scratch.
“Watch out! They’re wolfweres!” Ren shouted, slashing at two of the transformed wolves with his magical daggers. The weapons bit deep and diverted the lunges of two of the wolf-men, but the third one smashed into Evaine full force.
Worried about Gamaliel and Ren, Evaine was so caught up in her spellcasting that she didn’t notice the attack from behind her. The wolfwere’s front paws bashed into her skull and sent her to the ground with a thud. She lay motionless.
Gamaliel’s roar of rage could be heard for miles through the woods as he transformed into his true form, the giant cat. Two lightning-quick swipes with his eight-inch claws struck the monster that had attacked his mistress. Its spine was instantly severed, and Gamaliel tossed the wolfwere ten feet into the air. The monster landed, twitched, then was still. Blood oozed from its back and mouth.
Miltiades, knowing only silver or enchanted blades could harm a werewolf, was attacking with brute strength. The undead paladin locked arms with what had been Artur and tried to strangle the life out of the creature. As the werewolf reached to do the same, the paladin’s illusionary flesh turned back into enchanted bones.
Artur howled in fright as Miltiades snapped his woolly neck.
Wuldor leaped at Andoralson, but the creature’s crusty claws struck—not the druid—but an illusion. Two mystical flaming scimitars, created by magic and guided by the druids, flew forth and bit deep into Wuldor’s flesh, seeking his heart, burning his fur, and sending him thrashing to the ground.
Ren rolled in the grass, locked in a life-and-death duel. The wolfwere ripped at his throat, but the ranger wedged his chain mail-protected arm into the jaws of the beast while his other hand jabbed with Right to find a vital organ in the huge lycanthrope. Blood splattered the campsite as the weapon found its mark repeatedly. The creature exerted its full energy trying to tear Ren’s arm out of its socket.
Still guarding Evaine’s body, Gamaliel sank his fangs and claws into the body of the werewolf that had been Donar.
Andoralson, hidden by several illusions, used phantasm magic on another of the wolfweres. The creature’s brain played an image of its most horrible fear. The wolfwere died under the attack of mystical fangs, never realizing that the fangs were only in its mind.
Ren’s dagger finally found its mark. He threw the dead body of his attacker to the ground and leaped to his feet. His arm was numb and limp, but no m
onsters were left alive.
All the other companions—except Miltiades—lay in the grass, panting. The undead paladin, never tiring, began dragging the bodies into the woods. Six bloody trails in the grass were soon all that remained as traces of the vanquished.
Catching his breath, Ren turned to see Evaine still lying on the ground. A tawny cat, larger than a full-grown tiger, stood guard over her. Blood slowly oozed from a large gash in the sorceress’s head. The ranger limped over to her. The giant feline fluffed out his tail and hissed.
“Ren, don’t!” Talenthia shouted. “Gamaliel, or whatever he is now, is in a battle frenzy. He probably doesn’t even recognize you. You can bet he’ll attack anything or anyone trying to touch Evaine.”
“We have to do something. She could die if we don’t get her head bandaged.” Ren’s face reddened in frustration.
“I can try to distract Gamaliel while all of you attend to Evaine. If all of you try together, you can work fast. I don’t think the cat can do much to my dead bones,” Miltiades offered.
“Don’t be so sure,” Andoralson warned. He circled wide around cat and sorceress to get a better look at Evaine. “Whatever magic operates on this beast gives it greater strength. If that cat crushed your bones, I doubt that even my cousin could heal you. Let Talenthia and I try to calm Gamaliel.” The huge feline simply hissed at the druid, revealing six-inch fangs.
The druids tried everything to coax Gamaliel away from Evaine, but the big cat didn’t move an inch. He aloofly watched their attempts, hissing loudly. The cousins tried spells of charming, friendship, illusion, and animal-repelling, all to no avail.
“That’s one unusual animal Evaine has there. He’s stubborn, but gods, he’s beautiful, isn’t he? I can see why Evaine is so fond of him.”
Andoralson agreed with his cousin. “He really is magnificent. But right now, he’s more trouble than anything.” Gamaliel’s golden eyes glared at the druid, then the cat lifted his nose in pride and looked away.
“Talenthia, I can’t tell if it’s the magical collar the cat wears or Gamaliel’s innate magical resistance that allows him to ignore our spells. Can you get a better fix on him?” Talenthia concentrated and tried a spell, but shook her head. “Sorry.”
Ren kept an eye on Evaine, standing as close as Gamaliel would allow. “It looks like her bleeding has stopped, and her breathing sounds more normal. She’ll probably wake up naturally in a few hours.”
“What do you think we should do, just wait until she comes around?” Andoralson didn’t like the idea, but didn’t have any other suggestions.
“We don’t have much choice,” Ren replied, shaking his head. “Miltiades, you and I should burn the bodies of those creatures. The two of you, pick through their equipment and see if you can learn anything about them. All we can do is hope that Evaine is all right and wakes up on her own. But if her wound gets any worse, or if she looks like she’s in danger, I’ll take a hand in moving Gamaliel myself. I’ve fought large cats like him before.” The deadly look he gave Gamaliel told everyone he would kill the cat to save Evaine if necessary. The glare Gamaliel returned told Ren he would be in for trouble if he tried. “Well, uh, not exactly like this cat,” Ren admitted. He motioned to the others to get busy, but Miltiades asked a question.
“What were those wolf creatures, anyway? The ones that started out as wolves and changed into humanlike things? I’ve battled werewolves before, but never creatures like those.”
Andoralson explained. “Wolfweres. When werewolves and wolves mate, their offspring are more wolf than man. The creatures are more intelligent than normal wolves and can change shape to look like werewolves whenever they want. They’re incredibly powerful and are ferocious killers. Once they’re stirred up, they fight to the death—as you now know from experience.
“What surprised me is that the wolfweres allowed themselves to be mastered by the werewolves. I’ve always heard that the two creatures hate each other. Perhaps this growing evil in our land is perverting nature more than we suspect.”
Talenthia shivered at her cousin’s observations. Andoralson squeezed her in a comforting hug, then pointed her toward the woods where the bodies of the horrid creatures lay waiting. The foursome separated and busied themselves with chores.
Hours passed. Evaine didn’t awaken, but didn’t worsen either. Gamaliel refused to budge. He made his mistress comfortable in the grass and gently licked her wound. Still she did not stir. The wolf bodies had all been burned and the druids were done picking through the possessions they had gathered. Ren and Miltiades had cleaned their armor and sharpened all their blades.
Many hours later, as the companions roasted rabbits for supper, Evaine stirred and sent Gamaliel a mental message.
Ohh, Gam, what happened? I’ve got such a headache.
A wolfwere hit you from behind and knocked you unconscious. You’ve been out for hours, and I’ve been guarding you from everyone. The giant animal purred, rubbing his huge tongue along her neck.
Despite her pain, the sorceress giggled out loud, attracting the attention of the others. Hey, that tickles! she said silently. Ouch, don’t make me laugh. She opened her eyes to find everyone looking worriedly at her.
“I see you’ve met the real Gamaliel. My familiar should be a little nicer now that I’m awake. Talenthia, can you do anything for this pain? My head is splitting.” The druid hesitated, looking worriedly at the cat. The sorceress ordered Gamaliel to lie down.
A stern-faced Ren watched the attractive druid work her magic on Evaine. “I can understand why you didn’t tell us about your familiar. I would have done the same thing in your place. But the creature’s loyalty in guarding you prevented our helping you and could have endangered your life.”
“He won’t prevent you from touching me again. I’ll make sure of that,” she said, rubbing the brown fur between her giant cat’s ears. “What happened after I was knocked out?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Talenthia replied, finished with her healing. The ever-cheerful druid made light of the serious battle. “We destroyed three werewolves and three wolfweres. I checked to make sure none of us, including you and the cat, got the lycanthropy sickness.”
“How did you know those creatures were evil lycanthropes, anyway?” Andoralson asked. He handed Evaine some sweet-smelling fruit juice in a wooden chalice.
“We could all tell they were odd somehow. But when they pulled out that fresh meat, I knew what type of evil they were. The meat was human. Gamaliel knew by the smell. He and I can communicate mentally, if you haven’t guessed that already. I would have given you all more warning, but I truly thought my missile spell would kill their leader. The creature must have been unusually powerful.”
“Yes, it was. Snapping that creature’s neck was more difficult than I anticipated,” Miltiades noted. “But we discovered many interesting things about them while you were knocked out.”
“Oh yes, you’re going to love what we found,” Talenthia said sarcastically. She strolled over to Ren to check his healed wound for a fourth time. “Give her the parchment they were carrying.”
Andoralson handed over a small, official-looking folder with a broken wax seal. The tiny runes on the seal were in an ancient, magical script, one Evaine had learned as an apprentice. The script proclaimed the holder of the document to be a trusted ambassador. An ambassador of what, she couldn’t tell, because part of the seal had fallen away. She read the scroll aloud.
To the lords and mercenary captains reading this scroll I, Lord Marcus, bid you greeting.
The bearer of this document is a trusted servant of my new realm. He is empowered to hire and negotiate in my name for troops and mercenaries who would consider declaring fealty to me in my red tower.
The rewards such warriors may earn are vast. In my service, the battles are brief and the booty great. Those who would join should travel west of what was once Hillsfar along the coast of the Moonsea. All soldiers will be met by other servants of mine and esco
rted to my tower.
Lord Marcus, Red Wizard of Thay
The ranger sought Evaine’s opinion. “I dreamed of a red tower just before I arrived in Phlan. I didn’t think it bore any significance. Could Phlan’s pool of darkness be connected somehow to this tower?”
Evaine thought for a few moments. “The large area of darkness that I saw in my spell is located west of Hillsfar. Considering what I know of such places, it’s entirely possible that the tower could be within the darkness, along with the pool. But that doesn’t account for the missing city.
“We should continue riding toward the smaller patch of darkness. I’m convinced it’s connected to the larger evil, and it’ll provide important clues.” She smiled. “Besides, my home is a few days’ ride south of Zhentil Keep. It’s a stone cottage hidden in the edges of the elven forest. We can all rest there and discuss our strategy. I can cast another spell to locate the pool. Being that close to the area of blackness should give me more clues about what we are facing.
“I still own many of Sebastian’s possessions. If the small blackness is indeed the home of my mentor’s adversary, those items will help prove who I am and enlist the aid of the old wizard. Unless anyone objects, that’s how I’d like us to proceed.”
“Evaine,” Ren said, stripping off his weapons to create an amazing pile of daggers and short swords, “could you ask Gamaliel to turn into a human again? Now that you’ve assured him we won’t be harming you, I’d like to talk to him alone for a moment.”
Gamaliel blurred and transformed before Evaine could ask. He rose to his feet to look at Ren. The glares they shot at each other might have been poisoned darts.
“Follow me, please. But first, I’d appreciate it if you’d remove your gloves.” Ren requested.
Ren stared at the barbarian for a moment, then turned and walked into the woods without looking back to see if Gamaliel followed.
Pools of Darkness Page 17
