by David Cook
Shar stared at him. "You're mad! Even if you could control that thing, there's no way you'd get within a mile of it. Gods, we don't even know where it is now." She turned away from him to the others. "If he wants to stay and get killed, so be it. Come on!"
Kern took his warhammer from his belt. "I agree that we must go. But Master Entreri is right in one respect. As long as that forge remains in the hands of the Fallen Temple, no one on all Toril is safe. I cannot allow this." He looked at Entreri. "I'll go with you, but I won't allow you, of all people, to claim the bloodforge."
Sharessa bit her lip in frustration, and Noph saw the red blood spread across the rosy promise of her mouth. "Ingrar?"
The young pirate, his face lit by the fires of Eldrinpar, shook his head. "I can't, Shar. My destiny is bound up with the bloodforge." His voice grew in strength as he spoke. "I am linked to the forge and to the destiny of the Five Kingdoms. It is beyond your power to change my course. It is my destiny."
"Your destiny!" spat Shar angrily. "Your death, you mean! Haven't you seen enough death already? Remember Kurthe? And Brindra? And Anvil? Gods, how many more deaths is it going to take?" She whirled furiously on Entreri. "You brought nothing but death to us. We were the best of Kissing Shark's crew, and now look at us. Three dead, and Rings and Belgin gone off on some expedition to the ends of the earth, all because you say so, you tell us what to do. But you don't say when we die! Do you hear me? You don't say when we die!" She slammed her blade at the temple wall. The steel struck a shower of sparks from the stone, and the sword sprang back, a notch in its gleaming edge.
"Shar?" Noph's voice was shaking with weariness and emotion. "Shar, listen to me." He looked around at the others: Entreri scanning the chaotic scene below them; Kern, the flames shining on his golden armor; Trandon, his silver hair blowing free in the wind; and Ingrar, a strange radiance shining from his face. "Shar, we've been through too much to run away. All those deaths-they're not the only ones. I've seen our friends Able and Harloon die in Undermountain before we even got here. There's been too much death." He gestured toward the city. "There's more down there. But it all has to mean something. It can't just have been for nothing. And the only way I can see that any of this is going to mean anything is for us to try to do what we set out to accomplish."
He flushed and turned away. Trandon looked at him with something very like affection. The others did not move.
Shar looked at Noph. "Is that what you think?" she asked. Her voice, honey-sweet, dripped sarcasm, and in her eyes the youth saw only contempt.
Contempt for weakness, for sentiment that had no place in survival. Artemis had said that, Noph remembered. But it was the pirate code as well.
Shar turned away from him. Her long dark hair blew free in the wind, fanning into a great cloud that seemed to cast a shadow over the dreary sun of this dreary land.
On one side of the door was a bas-relief of the mage-king's face, gazing sadly out at the capital of his empire. Shar walked over to it and stared at the stone eyes for a long moment. Then, drawing her sword, she reversed it and, pommel first, struck at the image as hard as she could. The visage shattered, the pieces clattering around her feet. The female pirate looked at her companions. "All right. I'm ready now."
Entreri nodded almost imperceptibly and turned to Ingrar. "Can you feel anything? Anything about where the Fallen Temple might be holding the forge?"
Ingrar hesitated for a moment, then pointed out over the roofs below. "There." He gestured toward another, smaller pyramid, perhaps a mile or two away.
Shar, standing beside him, looked coolly at the scene below.
"The fiends are taking their captives that way." She gestured toward the city's walls that held back the encroaching jungle. "If we're careful, we ought to have a clear path to the harbor."
"And do we leave the population to the tender mercies of those monsters?" Kern asked angrily. "I am a soldier of Tyr. I fight evil wherever I find it."
"Yes, all right," interrupted Shar. After we get the forge, we'll put you in a room with all the fiends in the Abyss and you can slaughter them all in the name of Туг, or Tempus, or whoever you damn well please. For right now, let's concentrate on getting the forge."
She stared coldly into the paladin's blue eyes. He looked stoically back into her brown orbs. Trandon cleared his throat.
"She's right, Kern," the fighter observed. "One thing at a time. We can't save the population without a weapon that's a lot more powerful than anything we've got. The bloodforge is the key to retaking the city."
Kern nodded reluctantly, persuaded in spite of himself. "Very well. Let's go."
The party began to descend the steps cautiously. The street below them had begun to empty as the fiends herded their captors toward the city's center. The companions picked their way carefully over many of the stone steps that had been broken or cracked. The heat from the fires grew greater as they descended the slope.
At the foot of the pyramid, they halted. Kern pointed down a narrow street of adobe houses crowded together, some sagging uneasily. "That's the most direct route."
Entreri nodded wordlessly, and the company moved on. Within a few of the darkened doorways of the street, they could hear wailing and moaning. Noph paused before one such door, but Shar pushed him on. "We don't have time, Noph." Her face seemed to mirror that of Entreri in its cold decisiveness.
Noph realized the wisdom of her words. Even now he thought he could hear soft footsteps behind them. He turned and glanced back at the winding way they had come. Nothing. No one. He took a few steps, then turned again. There! Surely there had been a dark shadow flitting along one side of the street. Noph grabbed Trandon's arm.
"Look! Do you see anyone? Anything?"
Trandon stopped and gazed back, shading his eyes. "No. You sure you're not imagining things?"
Noph shook his head. "I don't think so. Someone's following us."
Trandon called softly to Entreri, and the little man halted impatiently.
"Well?"
"Noph thinks we're being followed."
The assassin looked irritably at Noph, who stared back, unblinking. Entreri sighed. "Ingrar?"
The blind pirate listened. "Yes. There's someone back there. Several someones. They've got weapons, too."
Entreri turned abruptly and walked back the way they'd come, Kern at his side. From out of the shadows on either side of the street, dark figures emerged and blocked them. One of the shadows stepped forward. "Greetings to you, Master Entreri. Sir Paladin."
"Lord Garkim!" Kern's voice was relieved but not friendly. "What do you want with us?"
"A word." The chancellor of Aetheric III was soot-streaked and weary-looking. His once fine robes were singed and tattered. In one hand he bore a curving sword. His followers, members of the palace guard, looking equally bedraggled, carried similar weapons. "I know what you are seeking."
Entreri looked at him without expression. "How do you know?"
"I can hear your thoughts. My telepathic abilities are exceptional, but all this"-he gestured broadly around them-"has made it difficult to sense much. However, your desire for the bloodforge is so strong that I could feel it when you descended from the temple."
"What of it?" asked Kern. "We are seeking the bloodforge, it's true. We had it once, but-"
"I know. It was stolen from you by members of the Fallen Temple." A ghost of a smile wafted across Lord Garkim's face. "I suppose there is something appropriate about a theft by the Fallen Temple from a paladin of Т yr."
"What do you want?" repeated Kern. His hand was on his sword, his face stern. Trandon stood behind him, both hands resting on his staff, watching the scene closely. "I tell you frankly, my lord, I feel no great friendliness toward you. As far as I can tell, you have lied to us since we came into this land. You used us, you and your master. What can you offer us now?"
"An alliance, though perhaps a temporary one. The bloodforge in the hands of the Fallen Temple is an artifact that rep
resents an extraordinary danger to the Five Kingdoms."
"It's also a grave danger to Faerun," said Trandon quietly.
Garkim shrugged. "Possibly. I cannot concern myself with matters in your corner of the world. What is of importance to me is safeguarding my land and performing the bidding of my master. In this I have failed. But if we can retrieve the bloodforge from the Fallen Temple, we can turn back the fiendish invasion."
"You know the secret of the bloodforge?" Entreri's voice trembled slightly, and his hand reached up to stroke his skeletal arm, now concealed again by wrappings.
"I do."
Entreri stood silent for a moment in thought. The others waited, Sharessa shifting impatiently from foot to foot, casting worried glances at the shadows in the street.
"I agree," observed Entreri finally. "But you will obey me in this affair."
Garkim looked at him, eyes gleaming. "You'll forgive me, Master Entreri, but I have some little experience with the false adherents of Туг. Moreover, I know where they have taken the forge. It hardly seems to me that you have anything with which to bargain."
"Then why propose an alliance?" snapped the little assassin.
Kern cleared his throat. "Come. We're wasting time. Lord Garkim, lead us to the bloodforge. Our pact can last at least that far. As to what happens when we recover the forge from these blasphemers-" He shrugged. "Well see."
"Oh, yes," said Garkim softly. "We shall see."
Chapter 5
The Glory of Tyr
"How can we get through the streets without being attacked by the fiends?"
Noph's question, directed to Garkim, echoed the unspoken sentiments of his companions. However, the chancellor appeared unfazed by it.
"I know a secret way. Come." He gestured to the paladins and pirates and walked quickly down one of the dark, crooked streets that led away from the base of the pyramid. The companions followed him, and the four palace guards brought up the rear.
Near the temple, the houses were large, some with enclosed courtyards in which Noph could see fountains playing and gardens with bright blooming flowers. However, as Garkim led them on, the way became more twisted and foul, the smells more pronounced, the dwellings smaller. Everywhere they found signs of the assault of the fiends: bodies lying across doorways where they had fallen defending their homes, shattered walls and windows, doors scored with claw marks and acid burns.
Garkim entered one of the courtyards, cautiously peering about. In the center of the atrium was an iron grille set into the paving stones. The chancellor gestured to two of the guards, who swiftly pried up the grille, revealing a gaping well beneath it. A few feet below the rim was a narrow ladder.
"The city drains," said Garkim in a low voice. "They reach into every part of Eldrinpar. The fiends may not yet have entered them."
"May not," began Kern, but stopped as the chancellor, gathering his robes about him, climbed down the ladder.
Entreri gave a swift glance at his companions, then followed. The others entered the well, gasping at the stench that rose from below. Noph, clinging to the slimy metal ladder, heard a clank above him as the last guard pulled the iron grille back in place.
Descending some fifteen feet, the party came to the bottom of the shaft and found themselves at the entrance to a brick-lined tunnel that snaked off into the darkness. Garkim hastily lit a torch and led the way, splashing through puddles and streams of water that gleamed in the torchlight. From time to time, the party passed other conjoining passages, but Garkim never hesitated in choosing which way to turn.
Noph caught up to Garkim and Entreri. "Lord Garkim, how do you know your way about here?"
Garkim's mouth was tight, but his eyes brimmed with tears. "My people sometimes use these tunnels."
"Your people?"
"The Mar. In Eldrinpar, it is the Ffolk who live near the temples and palaces, and the Mar who remain apart from power and faith. To escape the scrutiny of the Ffolk, the Mar long ago learned to use the drains. Like maggots, they burrow beneath the city, and the Ffolk are none the wiser." He sighed. "The gods have so decreed it, but it still seems hard to me."
"But you're a Mar."
"I was plucked from my home when I was a boy by the mage-king himself. It's true that I've risen to high station under his rule, but even so, there are-were-those in high councils who whispered against me when my back was turned because I was Mar." He shrugged and quickened his pace. "None of this will matter, though, if the followers of the Fallen Temple install the bloodforge."
"Why do they want it?" asked Entreri. His voice echoed strangely against the tunnel walls. "What do they want to accomplish?"
"They wish to summon Ysdar, a being of great power who comes from beyond this plane of existence. Some say he is no more than a name, a shadow to frighten children. But I believe he is real and is plotting to conquer all the Five Kingdoms."
"And he can do that if he gets a bloodforge?" Noph asked.
"According to most accounts of him, Ysdar already has a bloodforge. But a second would give him decisive power to command armies far greater than any that other kingdoms might bring against him. So we stand upon the sword's edge. The next few hours may decide whether my world stands or falls." Garkim fell silent and strode on.
At last the party entered a small room, into which a number of passages converged. To one side was another ladder leading upward. Garkim, the hem of his robes dripping with foul water, climbed up the ladder. The others followed and, in a few moments, emerged, blinking, into the light of day.
The sun was now high in the sky and blazed down upon the close quarters of the city. The air smelled of rot and decay, of soot and ashes from the burning city. And over everything was the acrid tang of fresh blood.
They were in a deserted street lined with empty houses. To Noph, it looked no different than the area where they had entered the drains. Yet something felt different, and after a moment he realized what it was. The fiendish clamor had died away, and high in the morning sky, he could hear the cry of gulls and smell a stiff salt breeze.
They were near the sea.
The group formed a narrow line, and Garkim led them along the street, gesturing to them to stay in the shadows cast by the overhanging houses. They saw no living thing.
One of the guardsmen in the rear screamed.
From a dark doorway, tentacles reached forth, their edges as sharp as razors. One whipped around the man's neck and tightened abruptly. His head fell and went spinning down the dusty street, eyes staring and mouth still open in a silent cry of death and despair. His body was yanked back into the doorway; there was a horrid crunching sound.
"Run!" cried Garkim.
Noph raced forward, then stopped, hearing a cry from Shar. She was clutching the hand of another guard, who had fallen in the street. A tentacle held him by the ankle, trying to draw him back to the same shadowy door where his companion had met death. The man was moaning, his face contorted in pain. Noph grasped the man's other hand and pulled. There was a dreadful moment of straining, and then suddenly resistance ceased, and Noph and Shar fell backward in the street. They saw the tentacle retreating, the guard's foot from the ankle down still clutched in its grasp. The guard looked down at his footless leg and promptly fainted.
"Come on!" Shar yelled to Noph. Between the two of them, they got the man up and half carried, half dragged him a hundred yards up the street. Trandon knelt by the guard, whose leg was spouting blood. He pressed his hands gently about the wound and murmured a few words. The flesh around the stump knit together, and the bleeding stopped.
"That's the best I can do," Trandon told Shar. "You'll have to help him along."
"No!" snapped Entreri. "He can't fight, and hell impede two others. He's useless to us now. Leave him."
Garkim drew himself up. "You will not leave one of my men behind, Master Entreri."
The assassin glared at him. "I give the orders."
"And I know the location of the bloodforge."
The smell of the sea grew stronger in Noph's nostrils. He realized they must be drawing near the dock area. All at once, the party reached the end of the narrow street they had been traversing and beheld before them the Great Sea and, glimmering in the sun, a temple.
Before them was a broad plaza, along which were drawn several fishing boats. From the dock, a narrow causeway led across the water, perhaps fifty yards, to a building, constructed of black basalt, that sat amid the waves like a brooding spider.
Garkim gestured toward it. "The Temple of Umberlee."
Ingrar, standing beside him, nodded. "Yes. That's where they've taken the bloodforge."
The others crowded around them, standing in a shadow cast by one of the buildings that ringed the plaza. They could see various hooded figures moving along the docks and the causeway. Garkim gazed at them thoughtfully.
"Those are not the robes of the True Believers of Umberlee," he observed.
Kern snorted. "I didn't know the word 'true' could be mentioned in the same breath with the bitch goddess," he remarked to Trandon.
"Silence!" said Garkim sternly. "Umberlee is a deity widely worshiped in Doegan, as well as in other parts of the Five Kingdoms. It is not for outsiders such as yourself to denigrate her."
Kern shrugged. "All right, fine. The bloodforge is in the Temple of Umberlee. Let's go get it."
He was two steps onto the plaza before Trandon's hand on his arm yanked him back. "Wait," urged the fighter. "This isn't a situation for a frontal assault." He looked at Garkim. "You said those people"-he motioned toward the hooded figures-"don't look like Umberlee's worshipers. To me, they look like disciples of the Fallen Temple."
