Avatar - Tantras Part 27

The fallen G.o.d clenched his gauntleted hand into a fist, turned his back on the council, and strode to his throne. He sat down and tried to force his anger away, but couldn't stop quivering with rage. Torm had suddenly recognized the extent of the damage wrought by Tenwealth and his perverted plan. All this time, when the Realms were torn by chaos and good people suffered, the G.o.d of Duty had possessed the means to make things right, to fulfill his duty to Lord Ao. And his priests had hidden it from him, supposedly for his own good.

Torm looked out at the frightened priests and awestruck guards, and for the first time, he saw himself through their eyes. I'm just another petty tyrant to them, the G.o.d of Duty realized. I'm nothing but a very powerful despot whom they will do anything to please.

"We were going to give you the tablet when the time was right. We-," Tenwealth wailed.

"Silence!" Torm shouted. "Where is the Tablet of Fate now?"

"In the vault," Tenwealth said softly. "I had an illusion cast over the tablet to disguise it, and mystical wards keep it safe."

The G.o.d of Duty stood up again and pointed at Tenwealth. "You and your council will be held until I decide what to do with you," Torm growled. "Guards, take-"

A wild-eyed messenger burst into the room. "Lord Torm! There are Zhentish s.h.i.+ps on the horizon! They're heading this way!"

The priests all gasped and got off their knees. The messenger stopped moving toward the G.o.d of Duty when he saw the golden lion at his feet. "Go on," Torm said. "What else do you have to report."

The messenger swallowed hard and spoke again, never taking his eyes off the lion. "There is something else crossing the Dragon Reach, too. A night-black giant, over fifty feet tall. The goliath wears spiked armor, like one of the Black Lord's a.s.sa.s.sins!"

"Bane!" Torm yelled. The lion roared and leaped to its feet. "He's come for the Tablet of Fate!"

The fallen G.o.d was then silent for a moment, and he considered the city's dilemma. After a moment, he said, "Issue a summons to all of my faithful. I wish them to meet in the outdoor cathedral in one hour."

"We are your faithful!" Tenwealth cried and took a step toward the G.o.d of Duty.

Torm looked at his former high priest. "In one hour, each of you will have a chance to prove that." Gesturing to his guards, the G.o.d added, "Take them to the cathedral. Watch them. Then tell the soldiers to prepare to defend the harbor from the Zhentish s.h.i.+ps. The Black Lord will be my responsibility."

The hour pa.s.sed quickly for the G.o.d as he formulated his plan and waited for his faithful to gather in the temple. Soon, he was standing on a platform, looking out over a throng of priests and fighters. The Council of Torm stood near the stage, chains around their wrists and ankles.

"There is little time to waste this day," the G.o.d of Duty cried. "By now, all of you know that our city will soon face an attack by Zhentish forces. Lord Bane, G.o.d of Strife and Tyranny, conqueror ofScarsdale, approaches the harbor of our city in the form of a giant warrior." The fallen G.o.d paused and listened to the frightened, excited murmuring of the crowd. After a moment, he added, "I can stop Bane. But to do so, I need the power that only your belief... and your sacrifice can give to me."

The noise from the crowd grew louder, and Torm raised his gauntleted hand to silence them. "My avatar has volunteered to be the first to offer me his essence." A deep sadness filled the G.o.d of Duty's eyes. "You must follow his example, do your duty as followers of my word, if Tantras is to be saved from destruction."

With those words, Torm plunged his hands into his avatar's chest and pulled out his heart. A torrent of sky-blue energy swirled around the staggering body of Torm's avatar then engulfed not only the frail, human form, but also the golden lion that raced to protect its master. When the swirling lights faded, a golden man more than nine feet tall stood before the wors.h.i.+pers of Torm. His head was that of the mighty lion, and his body crackled with energy.

"Your duty calls you," Torm roared from snarling lips of his new avatar. "There will be no pain. I would not bring suffering to my faithful. You need only accept your destiny, and you will pa.s.s quietly."

In unison, a dozen wors.h.i.+pers cried, "Take us, Lord Torm!"

With expressions of complete bliss, the wors.h.i.+pers fell to the ground. From their gently parted lips, sky-blue mists flowed and rushed toward the G.o.d of Duty. Torm opened his arms and embraced the souls, which lost their individual shapes and became a large pulsating ma.s.s of light. The lion-headed avatar absorbed the energy and started to grow. Soon the cathedral was filled with corpses, and the fallen G.o.d towered over the proceedings, the golden avatar now nearly fifty feet tall. Soul energy flowed toward the avatar from all across the city as word of the G.o.d's need spread. In the temple, Tenwealth and his fellow members of the council were among those who had not yet surrendered their lives.

"So beautiful," one of the priests wept as he looked up at the golden avatar. "Yet no matter how strongly I wish to join Lord Torm, he will not accept my life!"

"We were such fools!" Tenwealth cried. "Forgive us, Lord Torm! Accept our sacrifice! Let us prove our loyalty!"

The lion-headed avatar stared down at the council members. He could feel their desire to join him and almost taste the anguish in their hearts now that they recognized the price of their failure.

Torm closed his eyes and opened his arms. Tenwealth and the rest of the Council of Torm died, and their soul energies rushed to the avatar's embrace. The G.o.d of Duty absorbed the energy, let out a deep, loud roar, and pushed through the back wall of the temple. Then the lion-headed avatar went off in search of the G.o.d of Strife.

At the bow of the Argent, a Zhentish trireme, Cyric stared at a city on the horizon. The thief had not expected to return to Tantras so quickly, but Bane's orders had been explicit. Slater and a few of the other Zhentilar whom Cyric commanded were given orders to stay behind in Scardale, but the majority of the thief's men were a.s.signed to the Argent and ordered to follow Bane. Dalzhel, the leader of one of the contingents of Zhentilar who joined the Scorpions before Tyzack's death, had been made Cyric's lieutenant. Dressed in an ebon cloak that was pressed against his sleek body by the heavy winds, Dalzhel ran his hand over his bushy, black beard.

"You're worried when you shouldn't be," Dalzhel noted. "There should be no doubt as to our victory. Lord Bane himself leads us to Tantras."

"Of course," Cyric replied, his voice distant. Realizing that Dalzhel was staring at him, the thief a.s.sumed the posture of a confident warrior. "We will bathe in the blood of our enemies."

Dalzhel was still staring. Cyric thought for a moment then realized his mistake. "If we are forced to engage them, we will slaughter the Tantrasans. Lord Bane's orders are not to be taken lightly, no matter how badly some of us may wish to engage these dogs and drive them under our heels."

The lieutenant looked away. "Were you privy to the ceremony where Bane took his new avatar?"

"I was," Cyric replied and felt a warmth spread through his body. "It was a spectacular event to witness. It was almost inspirational."

Dalzhel nodded. "I understand that three beholders were summoned from Zhentil Keep and Lord Myrkul himself was in attendance."

"That is something of an exaggeration," Cyric noted and proceeded to tell Dalzhel all that he had witnessed.

After reaching the harbor, the obsidian juggernaut that Bane had inhabited was forced to enter the Dragon Reach from the east side of Scarsdale, while most of the Zhentilar fleet, four sailing s.h.i.+ps, three galleys equipped with rams, and the Argent, left from the Ashaba port to the south. Triremes were noted for their speed and superior handling, so it wasn't surprising that the Argent quickly pulled ahead of the fleet and pa.s.sed the southeast tip ofScarsdalein time to see Bane's mammoth avatar enter the water.

The sun had been directly above the avatar as it waded into the Dragon Reach. Brilliant white light enshrouded the unnatural creation with an aura of blinding luminescence. Despite the glare, though, Cyric could see reddish black mists swirling inside the smoky body. The obsidian giant now hummed with a throbbing tone that rose and fell in time with the movements of the crimson light within its ma.s.sive chest.

During the journey, only the head, shoulders, and parts of the G.o.d of Strife's arms were visible as he waded and swam through the Dragon Reach. The waves Bane caused made it impossible for the fleet to follow closely, and so the G.o.d was always far ahead of the s.h.i.+ps.

Now, as Cyric told Dalzhel about the birth of the obsidian avatar, the Zhentish fleet's two-day trek was almost at an end. Bane had broken away from the main body of the fleet, taking two s.h.i.+ps with him as he prepared to enter Tantras from the north, where thetempleofTormresided. The Black Lord justified the move by claiming he was going to destroy Torm, and thereby plunge Tantras into chaos.

Cyric knew better. The Tablet of Fate was all that concerned Bane, and the thief now knew that the tablet was somewhere near theTempleofTorm.

The Argent had been ordered to take up a position at the northernmost end of Tantras's harbor, closer to the scene of Bane's imminent raid upon theTempleofTormthan any of the other s.h.i.+ps sent to blockade the western borders of the city. The Argent's orders had been to stand ready, but take no action unless it was necessary.

Cyric, however, had plans of his own.

Elminster's lair was a filthy hovel in the low-rent district of Tantras. The heroes had spent the better part of three days hiding there from the priests of Torm. They pa.s.sed the time by arguing about a plan for the retrieval of the first Tablet of Fate.

"I think we should just charge in and grab it," Kelemvor grumbled sarcastically as he stared at the sharp edge of his blade. The fighter looked up suddenly as he remembered something Adon had mentioned about theTempleofTorm. "What about the main wors.h.i.+p room in the center of the building? The vault might be there."

Elminster stared at the ceiling, his fingers absently playing with his beard. "Ye sound much like the lummox I always took ye for, Kelemvor," the sage sighed. "The tablet must be in the diamond corridors that Torm warned Adon about and Tenwealth threatened him with."

The fighter mumbled something rude about the old mage, but Midnight spoke before Elminster had a chance to reply. "So how do we get to the tablet, then?" the raven-haired mage asked. "If we teleported or even opened a gate-"

The sage threw his hands into the air. "Far too dangerous," he snapped. "With the instability in the weave, ye might find thyself a mile beneath the earth or somewhere beyond the reach of the sky. Ye might even find thyself halfway across the Realms, in a place like Waterdeep... but then, ye'll be going there soon enough anyway."

"That's the second time you've mentioned Waterdeep in the last few days," Adon said angrily. "Why do you think we'll go there soon?"

Midnight 's eyes narrowed. "Yes. You mentioned Waterdeep when we were in the market, too. Why?"

Elminster thought it over then looked at the mage. "Ye can get to the second tablet through the City of the Dead, next to Waterdeep," the old sage sighed. "I learned this from... reliable sources during my time in the Planes. But whether or not ye are worthy of the task of retrieving both tablets-"

Kelemvor punched the rickety wall that stood a few feet away from him. "No!" he cried then looked to Midnight . "We're not going to go chasing after the other tablet, too. We're getting nothing in return for this. Let the old wizard get the artifact himself."

"Still the mercenary, aren't ye, Kelemvor," Elminster snapped. "If it's a reward ye seek-"

"Don't talk to me of reward," Kelemvor shouted. "Now that my curse is gone, I can take other things into consideration - like Midnight 's welfare and our future together. Besides, even if I was interested in making a pact, you'd be the last being in Faerun I'd deal with. You reneged on our last agreement."

"I was indisposed," Elminster grumbled. "If ye could have waited for me to return instead of striking a bargain with the Black Lord, perhaps I would be more impressed with thy words."

"We'll search for the other Tablet of Fate, too," Midnight said softly, then put her hand on Kelemvor's arm. "But only because it's our duty and our choice. I refuse to be a p.a.w.n any longer."

Torm's words about duty and friends.h.i.+p echoed in Adon's mind as he moved forward and said, "We should wait a few days before we try to retrieve the tablet. Let them think we've left the city. Then we can get the artifact in the temple and head toward Waterdeep."

"But that still doesn't settle how we're going to get the Tablet of Fate from the temple's vault... if that's where it's being kept," Kelemvor said, and the heroes started their argument all over again.

They were still debating about how to retrieve the tablet when the shouting began outside. The heroes stepped out of the small, ramshackle building and saw that the entire city had suddenly been engulfed in chaos. Wors.h.i.+pers of Torm, wearing pendants or patches with the G.o.d's symbol, flooded from their homes as news of the deity's summons spread.

Adon grabbed a messenger and asked what was going on. The scarred man's face was pale when he returned to the heroes to report. "It's Torm," the cleric told them, his voice quavering. "He's asking his faithful to come to the temple. He needs their help to fight Lord Bane, who's coming from Scardale even as we speak."

The heroes quickly set off toward theTempleofTorm. As they traveled through the city, they found the streets littered with bodies, though none of the corpses carried wounds of any sort. Supernatural winds ripped through the city, dragging strange, sky-blue vapors in the direction of the temple. Man-sized wraiths walked or flew toward the golden spires in the distance.

"Look there!" Kelemvor said, and pointed to a young man at the other end of the street who fell to his knees. The man was dressed in the robes of a Tormish priest, and he shouted, "For Torm's eternal glory!" before he dropped to the ground. A burst of sky-blue flame rose from his body, then took to the unnatural winds.

"We'd best gather a few mounts and hurry to the temple," Elminster suggested and pointed toward a stable. The stable boy and the owner lay in the street, dead. The heroes took four horses and set off down the twisting streets as quickly as they dared.

As they looked toward the spires of the citadel and the temple that stood beyond it, Midnight and her allies glimpsed an impossible sight. A golden-skinned giant with the head of a lion towered over the temple. The strange winds flowed toward the monster, and the sky-blue lights that had once been the soul energies of Torm's wors.h.i.+pers were absorbed into his body. The lion-headed giant turned from the temple and looked toward Tantras's north sh.o.r.e, beyond the ridge of hills and the wall that protected the city.

"It's Torm!" Elminster cried, reigning in his mount. 'He's created a new avatar to use in his fight with Bane."

"We'd best get to the temple before the battle starts," Midnight told the old sage. "If Torm loses, Bane will certainly recover the tablet." The mage kicked her horse into motion again and clattered off down the street.

In minutes, Midnight , Kelemvor, Adon, and Elminster pa.s.sed the citadel and dismounted before the main gates of Torm's temple. All three sets of gates lay wide open. The guards had vanished from their posts. The gatehouses were ominously empty. The silence inside the temple was frightening, too, and a dire contrast to the constant sounds of chanting and wors.h.i.+p that Adon and Elminster had both described. And as the heroes expected, corpses lined the halls.

"They've given their lives for Torm," Adon said softly. "Just like the others we saw in the streets." The cleric shook his head and ushered the party toward Tenwealth's chamber.

"If there's a vault in the temple," the cleric noted as they walked, "there will probably be a door to it in the high priest's quarters."

But as Adon reached the door to Tenwealth's room, a guard called out from behind the heroes. "You there! Where do you think you're going?"

"Go ahead," Elminster hissed. "I'll take care of this dolt. Ye just look for the vault."

Midnight stopped to protest, but Kelemvor grabbed her and pulled her into Tenwealth's room. Adon slammed the door closed behind the fighter. "Quickly," the scarred man said. "Look for a secret door."

Midnight and her allies could hear Elminster's laughter, along with the guard's, as they searched. Then there was silence in the hallway. Midnight went to open the door, but Kelemvor pulled her back. "Just find the door," he grumbled. Then you can worry about the old man."

"But there's no doorway here," Adon cried at last, exasperated.

"None that we can see, anyway," Kelemvor noted sourly as be sat down in front of the door to the hallway.

Midnight put down the bag containing her spellbook and looked around the spa.r.s.e cell. "You're right. Why should we think Tenwealth put the door in plain sight? It's probably hidden by magic!"

The fighter stood up quickly, and the heroes circled the room, rapping on the walls. Finally, Kelemvor found a hollow section in the center of one of the walls. "I'd say there's a doorway right here."

Midnight and Adon examined the wall. The cleric frowned and shook his head, but the mage wasn't discouraged so easily. "I think a sequester spell has been used to hide the doorway," she said. "But how are we going to know for certain?"

Midnight knew that the only answer was another spell, but the thought of using magic, even a simple incantation, frightened her terribly. Ever since theTempleofLathander, Midnight had been terrified that the next spell she cast would injure someone... or even kill one of her friends. As she turned the problem over in her mind, though, the mage remembered Mystra's final words to her at the Battle of Shadowdale.

Use the power I gave you.

Midnight sighed and hung her head. "Get as close to the door as you can. Both of you." She walked to the section of the wall Kelemvor had pointed to.

"Don't do this," the fighter pleaded. "You don't know what could happen."

"I'll never know unless I try," Midnight replied. "Besides, we didn't come all this way to give up now."

The mage recited the spell to detect magic. A blue-white pattern of energy shot from Midnight 's hands and struck the wall. For a moment, nothing happened then the wall began to shudder. Shards of mystical energy exploded from the hidden doorway, cutting harmlessly through the heroes' bodies, and pure white daggers of light flashed into Midnight 's right eye. As suddenly as it had started, the shower of light ended.

Midnight stood in front of the door, trembling. "I think I can see it," she gasped, wavering on her feet. "I see the door to the vault."

But the image the mage saw was strange, as if two different pictures had been placed, one over the other. If she kept both eyes open, Midnight saw this confusing blur. However, the mage's vision cleared when she closed her right eye. Then she saw things normally. She looked at the wall and saw only stone and paint.

When Midnight closed her left eye and looked only through the orb that had been struck by the daggers of light, she could see the secret door clearly. In fact, through this eye, physical objects like the floor or the wall or even her friends appeared as ghostly gray shadows. Only the magic of the sequester spell seemed distinct or tangible.

Kelemvor took a step toward his lover. "Wait for Elminster to come back!"

"No, Kel," Adon said softly as he grabbed the fighter. "It's up to Midnight now. There's nothing we can do."

"It is a sequester spell that prevents us from seeing the door," Midnight noted, holding a hand over her left eye. Her voice was low and distant, as if she had just awoken from a dream. The mage s.h.i.+vered. "I think I can open it now."

The mage reached for the wall. Kelemvor and Adon saw a doorway suddenly appear in the wall, then open. Pale light flooded from the large room the heroes saw through the secret entrance.

"I see a lot of magical traps in there," Midnight noted dreamily. "Tenwealth has been very busy." The mage stepped into the vault's antechamber.

Before anyone could react, the door slammed closed behind her.

The antechamber was a small room, no more than ten feet wide and ten feet long, lit by four bright globes that hung in the corners. Midnight covered her right eye for a moment and looked around. There wasn't much for the mage to see, at least not with her left eye. The room was completely barren, save for a huge mosaic of Torm's gauntlet embedded in the north wall and a large diamond-shaped trap door in the center of the floor.

When Midnight looked out into the room with her right eye, though, she saw a vast web of spells hanging over the trap door and snaking around the room. The spells hung like strands of silk from the ceiling and walls, intertwined and pulsing. The mage followed the weave and pattern of a few of the simpler spells, for the wards all seemed to have slightly varying colors, and she easily identified a few of them.

Tenwealth had ordered a number of spells to be placed on the door to protect whatever was hidden there from thieves. One ward raised an alarm if the door was opened. Another caused a cloud of fog to appear, which would blanket the room and obscure vision. A third spell was meant to keep the trap door magically locked. But when Midnight looked at the wizard lock spell through her right eye, she smiled. Written in the weave of the magic was Tenwealth's pa.s.sword.

She followed the pattern of the wizard lock spell for a moment, just to make sure that it wasn't backed up by another spell. The mage then discovered that a few of the other wards, including the alarm and cloud of fog spells, had actually been linked with the wizard lock. Midnight realized that the pa.s.sword might disable the handful of spells that were connected to the lock - or set them all off.

And not all the wards Tenwealth had placed on the trap door were as harmless as an alarm spell. Midnight recognized the pattern of a spell meant to deafen the person who tripped it. Another set off a fire trap, causing a burst of flame to shoot from the door. Worst of all, there was a feeblemind spell attached to the lock. If this was set off, it could wipe a spellcaster's mind clear, lowering his or her intelligence to that of a moronic child until another powerful spell was cast to heal the wizard's mind.