Avatar - Tantras Part 13

"Run, d.a.m.n you!" Kelemvor screamed, glaring at his companions. Durrock kicked Kelemvor in the side of the head with his heavy boot. The fighter was struck speechless by the blow, and his head swam in a sea of pain.

Adon grabbed Midnight 's hand and pulled her toward the open door at the front of the warehouse. "You can't help him now!" Adon explained quickly. "We'll have to come back for him!"

A look of desperation crossed Midnight 's features, and she allowed Adon to pull her forward. The bright sunlight from the doorway, no more than six feet away now, was nearly blinding as the mage and the cleric turned and ran for it. Then Midnight and Adon heard the sharp hiss of Seja.n.u.s's bolos slicing through the air as the a.s.sa.s.sin prepared to hurl them.

"Down!" Midnight screamed as she shoved Adon to the floor. The bolos whistled through the air just above the heroes' heads and went spinning down the street outside the warehouse.

Grabbing Adon's hand, Midnight jumped to her feet and yanked the cleric from the floor. Quickly they crossed the half dozen feet to the doorway, but the heavy footsteps of Bane's a.s.sa.s.sins sounded close behind the heroes as they leaped from the warehouse out into the light.

The Zhentish garrison was to her left when Midnight burst from the warehouse, so she quickly ruled out running in that direction and headed to the right. The dry dirt street that the mage and the cleric found themselves on seemed to lead into the center of town. As they ran deeper into Scardale, they heard the sounds of fighting grow louder and louder, although the closest skirmish they could see was a number of blocks away, off to their right. Behind them, the heroes could hear the cries of the a.s.sa.s.sins and the Zhentilar from the garrison.

The heroes raced through the narrow, twisting streets, looking for someplace to hide from their pursuers. They ran until the road they were following met another street to form a T. Midnight and Adon could hear the voices of the Zhentilar behind them, so there was no doubling back. The street to her left was lined with bodies and rubble from burned-out buildings. To her right, a huge, overturned wagon blocked the street, and a raging fire consumed a short, squat building. Thick smoke covered the road obscuring everything that lay beyond the wagon.

"The Zhentilar are following us!" Adon wheezed between breaths. "Where can we hide?"

"How close are they?" a voice hissed from Midnight 's left. Midnight looked sharply and saw one of the corpses raise his head. The corpse frowned. "From your expressions, I would guess they're right on your heels."

The "dead man" rose to his feet and dusted himself off. His violet clothing was trimmed with gold mesh, and bloodstains that had turned a deep brown covered him from head to toe. His yellow boots were almost brown with dirt, and he wore a cape with a crimson lining. The man's fine, golden hair was matted and tangled, but Midnight could see that it was very long, curling about his shoulders. He was armed with a short sword and a dagger. On his forehead was a large, ugly purple welt.

"Come on, then," the man said cheerfully as he gestured for Midnight and Adon to follow him. "Don't just stand there. You've already called enough attention to me. We might as well make a run for it."

Midnight looked back and saw Seja.n.u.s, Durrock, and a few Zhentilar approaching. Although the a.s.sa.s.sins were trying to run, their armor did not allow them much more than a brisk walk. The Zhentilar, on the other hand, broke into a sprint when they saw the mage and the cleric. When Durrock saw the heroes break into a run after the golden-haired man, he stopped and headed back toward the garrison.

Midnight glanced over her shoulder as she ran and saw the scarred a.s.sa.s.sin quit the chase. "He's going to get his mount!" the mage gasped. She tightened her hold on Adon's hand as they ran through the street lined with corpses.

After several hundred yards, the man ducked around a corner and led the heroes into an alley between two large buildings. As the shadows of the alley engulfed them, Midnight and Adon realized that they faced a dead end. Midnight was about to speak when the man turned, smiled, and said, "If we're going to die together, I'd like to know who I'm dying with."

"I'm Midnight of Deepingdale. This is Adon, a cleric of -"

"Adon," the cleric hissed and ran his hand over his scar. "Just Adon."

"Fair enough," the man answered, running his hand through his long, golden hair. "My name is Varden." The man turned toward the end of the alley, but Adon grabbed his arm.

"Why are you helping us?" the voting cleric asked.

Varden turned back to face the heroes, the slight smile gone from his face. "You're being hunted by the Zhents, right?"

Midnight and Adon nodded. A handful of Zhentilar ran past the alley. The three fugitives held their breath and pulled farther back into the shadows. Luckily none of the soldiers stopped to investigate the alley.

The man nodded toward the street where the soldiers had just pa.s.sed. "That's reason enough," Varden growled. Adon took his hand from the man's arm. Varden turned back down the alley. "Now let's get rid of your slow-witted pursuers so we can talk in less... stressful circ.u.mstances."

Adon and Midnight followed Varden deeper into the shadows. Soon the golden-haired man uncovered a side door to a building flanking them on the right. He yanked at the door and found that it was locked.

Just then, Seja.n.u.s appeared at the entrance to the alley, bolos in hand.

"I hate working under pressure," Varden hissed as he pulled a small set of tools from a hand at his wrist.

"You're a thief?" Midnight gasped, her eyes growing wide with disbelief.

"I a.s.sure you, I am fully licensed and accredited by the Thieves' Guild," Varden said as he fitted a skeleton key into the lock. He did not take his attentions from his work. "I suppose that lummox is still coming."

Midnight looked back toward the head of the alley and saw Seja.n.u.s approaching, the bolos whirling over his head. The a.s.sa.s.sin was less than seventy-five feet away. "Come, little mage!" Seja.n.u.s rumbled. "I have no wish to bring damaged merchandise back to Lord Bane. Make this easy on me, and I promise to return the favor later on."

Shuddering, Midnight looked back to the thief. "Hurry!" she urged.

"There! That should do it!" Varden cried. A series of tumblers fell inside the lock, and the thief grabbed the door's handle. Varden pushed Midnight and Adon into the darkened hall, then slammed the door closed behind him. Seja.n.u.s screamed in frustration and threw his bolos. The weapon crashed into the door.

In the semidarkness of the cluttered festhall, Varden struggled to find the locking mechanism on the inside of the door. It took him a moment to find the proper levers and lock the heavy oaken door. "That should hold him for a moment or two," the thief chuckled as he turned to survey the musty, deserted hall. "What have we here?"

A dull yellow light shone in the main room of the festhall, its source a rather large hole in the ceiling that had been partially covered with rotting timber. The light revealed a long room with a decrepit wooden staircase and a crumbling balcony that ran around the edges of the entire building. The ground floor of the hall was dominated by a large oaken table. The table was warped and decaying in places, and it ran for almost the entire length of the building.

Though the edges of the room on the first floor were hidden in deep shadows, Varden could see that at least twenty suits of armor lined the walls. All were rusted, half were incomplete. Above each suit, a few weapons, many twisted or broken, hung on display. Midnight thought she heard the hushed whispers of a dozen or more voices, but she devised that it must be the wind through the hole in the root.

"Seems like we've stumbled across some old meeting hall." Varden said as he walked toward a s.h.i.+eld on the wall. Any coat of arms the s.h.i.+eld had once held had been erased in time and rust. "From the armor and weapons, I'd guess it belonged to some order of knights - maybe even paladins," the thief added.

There was a loud crash at the door through which the heroes bad entered, and Midnight heard Seja.n.u.s curse loudly. Midnight and Adon quickly scanned the room for another exit. When she saw none, the mage turned to the thief, panic in her eyes. "Where can we hide?"

Varden laughed. "We need to escape, not hide. Any minute now, the Zhents who ran past the alley will come running back, looking for their leader." The thief paused and looked around the room. "If we hide here, we're as good as dead."

Seja.n.u.s crashed against the door again. "You cannot escape me, mage!" the a.s.sa.s.sin bellowed.

"That's just what you'd expect him to say," Varden chuckled. "Those Zhents have absolutely no imagination!"

"That's a clever observation," Adon snapped. "So use your imagination to find the other exits."

Varden leaned against the wall and shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea where they might be."

"What do you mean, you don't know!? Then why did you bring us here?" Midnight cried.

"So we wouldn't have to face your friend out there," Varden growled, pointing at the door. "Believe me, I'm as much in the dark about this place as you are. Start searching the edges of the room for another door."

The crash at the door came again. This time the wooden door splintered slightly and bent inward on its hinges. As Midnight approached the edge of the hall, near one of the suits of armor, she heard whispering again. It seemed to come from the rusted suit of plate mail. In other parts of the hall, Varden and Adon heard the voices, too.

"Conflict," a battered suit of armor whispered. "We lived and died for conflict."

To Adon's right, a set of antique plate mail with a large hole in its ornate breastplate turned to face the cleric "For law and the cause of good, we gave our lives. Fought rust and wear to save our masters. In Anauroch, my lord was slain. They bore me back, a monument to his greatness."

Varden started and began to back away, but a rusted mail hauberk coiled its chain sleeve around his arm. "At the foot of the Glacier of the White Worm I tell, unable to prevent a giant's club from bas.h.i.+ng in my lord's skull." The thief tried to pull away from the ghostly armor, but it held him tight. "We serve the force of good," a voice whispered from the hauberk. "Whom do you serve?"

All around the room, creaking suits of plate mail stepped off pedestals and grabbed rusting halberds and swords. Chain mail hauberks tilled out, as if worn by invisible knights, and stepped to the center of the room. "Yes, whom do you serve?" a dozen phantom voices rasped.

"We - we work for the good of the Realms," Midnight cried. The suits of armor paused for a moment, and for that moment there was silence in the festhall. The hauberk released Varden, and the thief hurried to Midnight 's side. Adon walked slowly across the room, shaking his head.

"The whole world has gone mad!" the young cleric sighed. Before anyone could respond, though, the door to the alley splintered into a dozen pieces, and Seja.n.u.s burst into the room.

"In the name of Bane, what's going on here?" The a.s.sa.s.sin gasped as he looked around the room at the ten full suits of armor holding weapons, standing as it poised for battle. In the shadows at the edges of the room, incomplete or badly damaged suits waved their battered, rusting arms and turned toward Seja.n.u.s.

"Your armor gives you away, servant of darkness!" the suit of plate with the gash in the breastplate rasped and raised its bent sword.

Seja.n.u.s began to laugh nervously. "Little mage, is this your doing?" Midnight didn't answer, but she and her companions moved behind the advancing armor.

"Born in fire!" a set of armor whispered as it grabbed a halberd and pointed the poleax at the a.s.sa.s.sin. Seja.n.u.s glanced to his left and saw a second suit of armor approaching him.

"This is madness!" Seja.n.u.s growled and tossed his bolos at the suit of plate wielding the halberd. The armor easily deflected the bolos with its halberd and continued to advance on the a.s.sa.s.sin. Seja.n.u.s drew his sword. "I grow tired of your display, mage. Stop this at once or you will pay for your impudence later!"

As they backed toward the far end of the hall, Varden leaned close to Midnight and whispered, "Are you responsible for this?"

Midnight frowned and shook her head vigorously. "No. This is just another of nature's tricks or some ancient magic that was set here long before we stumbled across it."

Adon grabbed Varden's sleeve and pointed into the darkness at the end of the room. A small wooden door lay in the shadows, but a series of boards were nailed across it, holding it tightly closed. "We can escape through here while the armor keeps the a.s.sa.s.sin occupied," Adon said and turned toward the door.

Suddenly there was an explosion of wood from above. Sunlight flooded the warehouse as huge chunks of rotting wood fell to the floor. The heroes dove under the long table. Seja.n.u.s and the animated suits of armor slopped moving. All eyes turned to the roof of the festhall.

There, hung in the air above the hole in the ceiling, was Durrock, riding his nightmare. The horrible creature was shattering the boards that covered the hole with its flaming hooves. Obviously Durrock desperately wanted to get inside the warehouse. He wanted Midnight .

"We're leaving now!" Varden yelled as he grabbed Midnight 's hand. "Cover your head."

Taking advantage of the confusion caused by Durrock's appearance, Varden, Midnight , and Adon broke from the cover of the table and rushed between two living suits of armor toward the door that led out into the alley. Seja.n.u.s was howling with rage as the ring of animated suits of armor tightened around him.

"Durrock, the mage is getting away!" Seja.n.u.s screamed as he parried a sword thrust from one of the suits of rusted plate. Durrock and his nightmare vanished from the jagged hole in the roof just as the heroes emerged into the alley. The sounds of swords cras.h.i.+ng against one another echoed from inside the warehouse, mixed with Seja.n.u.s's screams of anger.

As the heroes ran down the alley toward the street, the sound of the nightmare snorting and whinnying drifted down from above their heads. Midnight looked toward the sky and saw Durrock and his mount hovering over the rooftops. "The alley is too narrow for his mount, but on the street we'll be at his mercy," the mage cried. "We're right back where we started!"

"Well, we can't camp here all day," Varden exclaimed.

Midnight turned to the thief. "I'm the one the a.s.sa.s.sins are after," the raven-haired magic-user stated flatly. "Lead Adon to safety. As long as I'm trapped in this alley, Durrock won't follow you."

"Don't be absurd!" Varden snapped as he grabbed Midnight 's arm and tried to drag her forward. "The next thing I know, you'll want to try using magic! There's nothing more infuriating -"

Midnight s.h.i.+fted her weight away from Varden, dug her left leg into the ground between his legs, and shoved the thief over her leg against the wall of the alley. The golden-haired man struck the wall with such impact that he was momentarily stunned.

"Never put your hands on me like that!" Midnight growled, then backed away from the thief. "I know what's best. Now, go!"

Adon walked to Midnight 's side and put his hand on her shoulder. "No," the cleric said softly. "We've got to trust Varden." The scarred young man paused for a moment and looked up at the a.s.sa.s.sin, still hovering over the alley. "We've got to stay together."

Midnight had run out of arguments. She considered their circ.u.mstances for a moment, then followed Adon and Varden down the alley. At the edge of the street, the thief paused and turned to the mage.

"I know where to go from here," Varden whispered. "We need to get to the alley five stores to the east of here." The thief looked up and saw the nightmare descending into the street. "Run!" he cried and bolted into the street filled with corpses.

"We still have your lover, Midnight !" Durrock shouted as the nightmare landed and started to race down the street after the mage and her allies. "Surrender now or he will pay the price for your foolishness!"

Chancing a look back over her shoulder, Midnight saw that Durrock had picked up a new weapon when he had gone back for his mount. In the a.s.sa.s.sin's hands was a black net, large enough to contain a man, with heavy weights secured to its edges. The scarred a.s.sa.s.sin was no more than twenty feet from Midnight and her companions, holding the net open wide, when Varden suddenly turned into another alley.

In the cramped lane that ran between two dilapidated buildings, Varden charged up a rickety set of stairs and dove into an open window. Midnight and Adon turned down the alley just in time to see the thief disappear. At the same time, Durrock released the net. The metal mesh struck the corner of the building as the heroes raced into the alley and climbed through the window.

Inside the building, Midnight and Adon found themselves in a small room that was covered in paper. The room looked as if a whirlwind had pa.s.sed through the interior of the building and scattered pieces of parchment everywhere. Varden was lying in the center of the mess, lifting himself up from the floor, when the heroes entered. In the corner of the room, sitting cross-legged, with a large pile of papers in his lap, was a man in his early sixties, with two patches of white hair at the sides of his head and a s.h.i.+ning bald pate between them.

Varden saw the older man and let out a cry of greeting. "Gratus!" the thief exclaimed happily, a smile on his face. "Why, it's my good friend and a.s.sociate, Gratus!"

The old man looked up. He was wearing clothing similar to Varden's violet pants and s.h.i.+rt with yellow boots - except that Gratus was missing the cape. An expression of sorrow and pain Clashed across the old man's lace as he squinted in the direction of the thief. Then Gratus spread his hands wide, and papers flew in every direction.

"Varden, you're still alive!" Then the old man's expression changed rapidly to one of anger. "Go away! Every time I see you, it's nothing but trouble!" Gratus croaked. The old man saw that the papers had scattered from his lap and tried futilely to gather them up again.

Varden's smile widened. "I can't really deny that, considering our present circ.u.mstances," the thief said as he flashed a glance back at the open window. "But I would very much appreciate it if you would stop complaining and give us a hand!"

Standing near the window, Adon ducked his head outside to take a look. "I don't see any sign of Durrock," Adon noted.

"He's probably calling the other Zhents, trying to cover all the exits," Varden said flatly. "He has no way of knowing what direction we'll take when we leave."

"Excuse me," Gratus said. "But did you say 'Durrock,' as in Bane's unholy servant? Black, spiked armor? Rides a horrid, monstrous horse with flaming hooves?"

Midnight drew a deep breath. "Yes. That's who's following us." The mage moved to Adon's side and glanced nervously at the window.

"Come now," Varden said cheerily, turning to Midnight . "Don't look so glum. We've already defeated Durrock's friend hack in the festhall."

Gratus held his wrinkled hand in front of his face. "Fine!" he snapped and held up a single finger. "You defeated one." The old man paused and held up another bony digit. "Durrock's undoubtedly circling somewhere overhead, so that makes two." Gratus held up a third finger slowly and said, "But where is the third a.s.sa.s.sin? Durrock is always in the company of two others."

Midnight turned away from the window and fixed the old man with a cold stare. "I cast a spell at him when we escaped. He's probably still pinned to the side of the warehouse near the Zhentish garrison."

"A mage!" the old man cried as he lifted himself from the ground. "So this is what you bring me, Varden. Another mage!"

"What does he mean, 'another mage?" Adon asked.

Varden tried to dismiss the question with a smile. "It's nothing," the golden-haired thief said. "Gratus's mind wanders sometimes, that's all."

The old man stood up straight. "Goon, Varden! Tell them!" Gratus put his hands on his hips. "I'm not lifting a finger to help until you do."

Varden sighed and hung his head. "A... former acquaintance of mine was a magic-user." All traces of the thief's good humor disappeared as he spoke.

Gratus nodded emphatically. "Note the word 'was,'" the old man cackled, wagging his finger at the younger man.

The thief spun to face the older man. "It's not my fault that Dowie tried to light that torch using his magic! It was a very stupid thing to do."

Gratus chuckled. "Did either of you happen to notice a pillar of flame that rose to the heavens a week ago?" the old man asked.

"We're new in town," Adon said.

Gratus nodded and continued. "You should have seen the look on Dowie's face right before -"

"The two of you can trade stories all you want later," Midnight growled. The mage trembled with barely controlled anger. "Right now, we need help. Durrock will be back any second now with those Zhentilar that pa.s.sed us a while back."

Varden held up his hand to calm Midnight clown. "Gratus, I think we should go to the garrison." The thief turned to Midnight and Adon. "We're merchants here in Scardale, but it recent days, we have found it expedient to seek the protection of the Sembian garrison here," Varden explained, "the outfits are the garb of our ill.u.s.trious employer."

The old man nodded. "That's fine with me." Gratus paused and idly kicked a pile of paper aside. "Unless the fair lady of magic wants to use her great power against the a.s.sa.s.sins and turn Scardale into a smoking pit in the process. I heard about a mage who reduced an area outside of Arabel to -"

"How do we get there? To the Sembian garrison?" Adon growled. "And please make it quick, before the Zhentish decide to storm the building."

Gratus looked at Varden. "Impatient, isn't he?" the old man sighed. "Do you expect us to simply dance out of here into the streets and stroll to the garrison? The Zhents would be on us in an instant."