Sea of Death botf-3

by Tim Waggoner

  "Is anyone injured?" Diran asked.

  "I don't believe so," Tresslar said. "A few burns, some singed hair, that's all. I was careful to direct the majority of the flame's heat away from us."

  "What did you do?" Ghaji asked. He lifted his axe and held it out for Tresslar's inspection. "It feels heavier somehow, more awkward, and the surface has grown dull."

  "I'm sorry, my friend," Tresslar said, "but I could think of no other way to stop those clawed monstrosities. I adapted my revealer so that it would function as an enhancer, a device that can temporarily boost another mystic device's power. I used it to enhance your axe's flame so that it would burn hotter and spread outward rapidly. I hoped the resulting flame-blast would destroy the ebon creatures." Tresslar took a moment to survey the carnage he'd wrought. "Looks like it worked."

  "Why apologize, Tresslar?" Hinto asked. "You saved us!"

  "But at a cost, my little friend," Tresslar said. "Enhancers function by forcing a mystic object to expend all of its energy in a single burst. By employing the enhancer on Ghaji's axe, I forced the elemental within to devote its entire strength into one fiery explosion. Unfortunately, the elemental was drained of the magic that sustained it and was destroyed. I'm afraid your axe is just an ordinary weapon now, Ghaji. I'm sorry."

  The half-orc looked at his axe for a moment then shrugged. "I got along without an elemental weapon most of my life. I'll get by now."

  "I might be able to restore it some day," Tresslar said. "I can't make any promises, but if I can manage to-"

  Asenka broke in, her voice close to a sob. "I can't believe you're standing there talking so calmly about a stupid axe! Have you forgotten that Leontis was outside the circle?"

  "We haven't forgotten," Diran said. "Leontis is quite resourceful and not without his own defenses. It's quite possible he managed to get beyond the range of the fire." Diran wasn't lying, precisely. Leontis did have the defenses of his lycanthropic metabolism, and there was a good chance that-assuming the shadowclaws hadn't destroyed him-he'd either chased the beasts further into the forest or, when the fireblast happened, he'd reacted in animalistic fear and fled. Either way, Leontis would still be alive, though it was possible the werewolf he'd become would find itself at home in the forests of Trebaz Sinara and never return. That might well be for the best, Diran mused. Leontis could live out his life in seclusion, unable to hurt anyone or spread his curse.

  "Excuse me," Onu said softly.

  Asenka ignored the man and continued. "We have to at least search for his body!"

  "How?" Yvka said. "I don't wish to upset you any further, but there are hundreds of dead creatures surrounding us, and their corpses all resemble large lumps of charcoal. Leontis, if he was caught in the blast, will look no different. How will be able to tell his body apart from all the others?"

  "Excuse me," Onu repeated, a trifle louder this time.

  Again, the sea captain was ignored. Solus spoke next.

  "I might be able to detect some faint traces of human intelligence yet lingering in Leontis's mind," the psiforged said. "Assuming at least some portion of his brain remains relatively intact. I'll begin-"

  Onu shouted this time, an edge of hysteria in his voice. "Excuse me!"

  The companions turned toward the sea captain-or at least, toward a being who wore the captain's garish red longcoat. This being had pale gray skin and thin fair hair. Its arms and legs were somewhat longer than natural for a humanoid, and its white eyes were disturbingly blank. It possessed only the merest hint of facial features-a nub of a nose, a suggestion of lips, and small bumps where ears should be.

  Ghaji was the first to give voice to what they were all thinking.

  "You're a changeling?"

  Onu nodded. "But that's not important right now." His voice was soft and nearly devoid of emotion, completely unlike that of the Captain Onu they had come to know. He pointed with a slender gray finger.

  The companions turned to look where the changeling indicated and saw the still smoldering body of a shadowclaw a few yards away. In its oversized talons, the creature held the charred body of a small human-like being.

  Onu's voice trembled with grief. "He… the creature grabbed him just before… when the fireblast…" The changeling trailed off, unable to say anything more.

  Diran understood what had happened. In the moment right before Tresslar had activated the enhancer, a lone shadowclaw had managed to get close enough to sink its talons into Thokk and drag the dwarf off. When the fireblast occurred, Thokk had been burnt to a crisp, along with everything else in range of the enhanced flames.

  No one said anything for several moments as the enormity of what had happened began to sink in. Finally, Onu spoke once more.

  "I guess this means I really am the captain now."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Makala felt no physical aftereffects of Nathifa's energy blast, but she seethed with fury. As the lich led them across the cavern floor toward the skeletal remains of the dragon Paganus, it took all of the vampire's self-control to keep from attempting to tear the sorceress's head off.

  Bide your time, whispered a voice inside her. You'll get your chance.

  Makala hoped so, and she hoped it would be soon.

  Nathifa walked up to the dragon's skull and stopped. In the forty years since Paganus died, evidently nothing had disturbed his bones, for his skeleton was not only intact, all the bones remained in their proper places. During her mortal life as an assassin, Makala had had occasion to visit Morgrave University in Sharn. There she'd seen skeletons of ancient creatures displayed on metal frameworks, arranged in what the curators no doubt hoped were lifelike poses. Paganus's skeleton reminded her of those displays. She could even imagine the placard that would accompany it: PAGANUS: ANCIENT GREEN DRAGON, COLLECTOR OF MAGICAL ARTIFACTS, SEEN HERE AT REST IN HIS CAVERN LAIR.

  Makala had never seen a live dragon, and the small part of her that was still human marveled at the site of Paganus's bones. But her wonder was forgotten as she saw that the floor around the skeleton was stained a dull reddish-brown. Makala inhaled the rich scent of dragon blood, the odor faint but still tantalizing even after all these decades. She could smell the power in that blood, and she wondered what it would feel like to have a dragon's strength flowing through her veins.

  "I want the three of you to stay back while I attempt to rouse the dragon's spirit," Nathifa said. "Such spells require a great deal of power and concentration, and there are… dangers. A dragon's spirit is powerful, even in death, so do not interfere or draw attention to yourselves in any way."

  Makala hated the way the lich spoke to them as if they were dull-witted children, but she resisted making a snide comment. She wanted to hear what the dragon's spirit had to say-assuming Nathifa succeeded in summoning it.

  The lich began simply, lowering her head and whispering arcane words in a language unfamiliar to Makala-words formed of harsh consonants and guttural vowels, words that resonated with blasphemy, as if the sound of them alone was an affront to creation. Nathifa began gesturing with her hands, bone-white fingers contorting into intricate shapes and patterns. Her whispering rose in volume to become a chant, and tendrils of darkness slowly extruded from the hem of her shadowy robe. The tendrils lengthened as they snaked their way across the cavern floor, slithered up the sides of Paganus's skull, and slid into the opening where the dragon's ears had once been. For a long moment nothing happened, and then the tips of the tendrils emerged from the eye sockets and burst upward in sudden growth. The tendrils merged into a single black shape that stretched nearly all the way to the cavern's ceiling. The shadowy substance rippled and pulsated, as if it was trying to assume some manner of form. And then Nathifa raised her arms and gave a last shout that echoed throughout the cavern and resonated within the deepest recesses of her servants' black souls.

  The mass of shadow took on the shape of a large dragon with glowing green eyes and wisps of vapor coiling forth from the nostrils. The acrid stench of
poisonous gas filled the air, and Makala thought it fortunate that none of them was human, otherwise the dragon's toxic breath might well kill them.

  Who summons me?

  The dragon's voice wasn't heard so much as felt, as if his spirit was speaking directly to theirs.

  Nathifa lowered her arms and spoke with a confident, commanding tone. "I did. I am the sorceress Nathifa, servant of her most great and terrible majesty Vol."

  The dragon's gaze fixed on Nathifa, and his eyes glowed a brighter green, as if he were examining her closely. After a moment, Paganus chuckled.

  You're nothing but a lich, one of the bitch-goddess's undead puppets. I am insulted that your mistress would send such a lowly creature to speak with me.

  Nathifa's voice with tight with barely restrained anger as she replied. "Do not put on airs with me, dragon! You are no mighty lord of your kind. You are nothing but a common thief! You stole the Amahau from my Dark Lady, and though it took almost three thousand years, you paid for your transgression with your life!"

  I was happy to give up my life after enduring three millennia of pain. Death was no punishment for me, but rather a release from the prison of perpetual agony in which I was trapped. But enough talk. You have summoned me for a purpose, and the sooner I fulfill it, the sooner I can return to blessed Oblivion. So tell me what you want, lich. But be warned. If you have come for the Amahau you are too late. It was taken by those who granted me my deliverance.

  "I have no need to ask for what I already possess." Nathifa reached a hand into her own darkness and withdrew the dragonwand. She held it forth for Paganus to inspect.

  The dragon's shadowy form quivered and for an instant seemed as if it might lose definition, but then it solidified once more.

  The Amahau… even as a shade I can still sense its power.

  The dragon lowered his head toward Nathifa, and Makala wondered if it was possible for a spirit to wrest a physical object from its holder. But Nathifa held her ground.

  "If you know the Gatherer's power, then you know that it can absorb any mystical energy. Including a spirit. If you attempt to do anything save answer the questions I put to you, the Amahau shall become your new prison."

  Paganus hesitated. My present form is due at least in part to a contribution of your own power. If you absorb me into the Amahau, you will sacrifice that portion of your own strength.

  "Perhaps," Nathifa allowed. "But I am willing to make such a sacrifice for the glory of my dread mistress."

  Paganus considered for a moment before withdrawing his head to its original position. Ask what you will, lich.

  From where she stood, Makala couldn't see Nathifa's face, but she could well imagine the sorceress's triumphant smile.

  "The Amahau wasn't the first artifact of power that you stole, merely the last. Where are the others?"

  The dragon's glowing green eyes narrowed. It has been three thousand years since last I gazed upon my treasures, for I was too wounded to move from the spot where my bones now lie. Who knows what fate might have befallen my pretties in all that time?

  "Do not dissemble with me, Paganus! You might have been weakened and in pain, but I refuse to believe that you have no idea what happened to your hoard. Despite how badly you were wounded when you escaped Vol's palace, you managed to fly all the way from the Fingerbone Mountains to Trebaz Sinara. Such a long journey would've been an ordeal given your injuries, yet you forced yourself to continue on until you reached home. Why? Surely it was more than a longing for the comforts of your lair"-she gestured to take in the cavern around them-"meager as they are. You must have had another reason for making the difficult journey, and I submit that it was because you wished to be near your precious treasures. Perhaps you even hoped that one of them, its magic added to that of the Amahau, might heal you."

  Paganus regarded Nathifa for some time before finally sighing in defeat.

  It is as you say. Over the long centuries, when I could find the strength to move and the will to endure the resulting agony, I made my way to the chamber where my hoard is hidden and attempted to heal myself using one of my pretties. Obviously, I was unsuccessful.

  "Then your hoard must be nearby, or else you never would have been able to reach it in your wounded condition."

  Paganus said nothing.

  "It's not in this cavern, but perhaps it's located in another close by, one easily reachable from here by a creature barely able to move."

  Again, the dragon remained silent.

  "Tell me, Paganus. Tell me where your hoard is, and I'll release your spirit. Refuse, and I will consign you to the Amahau until such time as I can find a use for your energy."

  For three millennia I lay here in agony, protecting my treasures despite my wounds. Even now that I have no more use for my pretties, cannot touch them no matter how much I might wish to, I find it nearly impossible to give them up. Still, I suppose I have little choice.

  And so Paganus told them.

  When the dragon finished, Nathifa replaced the dragonwand inside herself. "I should absorb your spirit anyway. Three millennia of pain do not begin to redress the wrong you did my mistress. But I'm feeling in a generous mood, so… begone, spirit."

  Nathifa made a casual wave of her hand and, as if a strong breeze blew through the cavern, the shadowy form of Paganus's spirit dispersed and was soon gone, leaving behind only the harsh smell of poison gas.

  The ebon tendrils that had helped give the dragon's spirit shape withdrew, pulling out of the skull's eye sockets, slithering back through the ear holes, and sliding across the cavern floor to rejoin the lich's robe of living darkness.

  Despite herself, Makala was impressed by the sorceress's accomplishment, though she would submit to eternal damnation before ever letting on.

  "So now we go treasure-hunting?" Makala said.

  "Not quite yet." Nathifa turned around to face Makala. "I sense that your former lover and his companions have joined us on the island and are drawing close even as we speak."

  "So?" Haaken said, grinning with a mouthful of shark's teeth. "Let them come. I have a score to settle with that priest and his half-blood friend."

  "We have important tasks before us and little time in which to accomplish them," Nathifa said. "We cannot afford to waste what time we have in purposeless battle." More softly, she added, "I cannot."

  "So what are we going to do?" Skarm asked.

  "You are going to do nothing," Nathifa snapped. "But I do have a request of Makala."

  The vampire raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yes?"

  "I want you tear off one of my arms. Right or left, it doesn't matter. Your choice."

  Makala looked at the lich for several seconds before her lips drew back from her fangs in a half smile, half snarl. Now this was a command she was happy to obey!

  She grabbed hold of Nathifa's right arm with both hands, nails sinking through the darkness of the sorceress's robe and penetrating into the bloodless flesh beneath. Then, using all her strength, Makala yanked.

  Though they couldn't spare the time, the companions nevertheless decided to bury Thokk as best they could in the charred mixture of soot and soil. Onu remained in his natural form, as if too weary and filled with sorrow to change shape. The changeling said nothing while Solus telekinetically removed earth from the site they'd chosen for the grave. Tresslar and Hinto prepared the body as best they could, but the heat of the fire had melted the dwarf's mace to his hand, and the only way they could have separated it was to break the hand off at the wrist. So the mace remained in Thokk's grip, which seemed only fitting. When the psiforged was finished excavating the grave, he offered to use his mind powers to move Thokk's blackened corpse into the hole, but Diran thought the Solus should conserve his psionic energy. Besides, the dwarf deserved to be laid to rest in a more respectful manner. So Diran, Asenka, Yvka, and Hinto lowered Thokk into his grave while the rest kept watch.

  As the others stepped back from the grave, Solus stepped forward, removed his travel
cloak, and gently placed it over the dwarf. Diran knew Solus had no need of the travel cloak to protect him against the elements, so giving it up was no great sacrifice, but it was a nice gesture all the same. Diran was about to perform the rite of the Burial of the Faithful when Onu at last spoke.

  "You are a priest, Diran. Is there nothing you can do to restore Thokk to life?"

  Diran sighed heavily. He feared Onu might ask this question. "I understand that you are grieving, Onu, and your request comes out of the deep sorrow you feel at Thokk's loss. Please try to understand: the Purified believe that the souls of the faithful join with the Silver Flame after death. This union is a joyful one in which the deceased is reborn into an afterlife of peace and bliss, and the Flame itself is strengthened by the addition of the new soul. To return a spirit to the material world not only weakens the Flame, it brings the deceased back into an existence of further pain and suffering. For these reasons, priests of the Purified have a sacred duty not to raise the dead, regardless of the circumstances. I am sorry."

  Diran waited to see if Onu would argue that Thokk wasn't one of the Purified, and therefore the Church's ban on resurrection shouldn't apply to him. It was an argument Diran had heard too many times before. But Onu only nodded, and the matter was closed.

  Diran then gestured to Solus, and the psiforged used his mental powers to return the earth he'd taken from Thokk's grave. Diran then conducted the rite of the Burial of the Faithful. He spoke a series of prayers over the grave, asking the Silver Flame to forgive whatever spiritual impurities might have remained in Thokk's soul at the time of his death and to accept the dwarf as part of the divine Flame. Strictly speaking, the rite was intended to be used only for the burial of Purified, but Diran followed the thinking of Tusya on this matter.

  It's not for us to judge who is worthy of joining the Flame. We may call ourselves Purified, but no mortal creature can ever be as pure as the Flame itself. To pretend otherwise is a dangerous arrogance that taints the spirit as surely as any wicked deed.