Troy Denning - The Sentinel

Gingrid stumbled to her feet, looking dazed and alarmed, but otherwise none the worse for her recent collapse. She stopped in front of the wall and watched the dark circle expand for a few moments. Then, when a steady cascade of dust and pebbles began to spill out onto the floor, she turned to Malik.

“Grandfather won’t be happy about this,” she said. “He won’t be happy at all.”

The darkness had already devoured the barracks where Yder had died. Now it was blossoming inside the curtain walls, slowly eating its way around the bailey to the little gatehouse where Kleef and his companions stood debating their next move. Across a small drawbridge in front of them, Sadrach Keep shuddered with wallbound fury, its stones grinding and clacking as though it might collapse any moment.

A stony face glared out from each side of the keep, its appearance exactly the same on all four walls: an immense, gaunt visage with a hooked nose and a long beard hanging from the narrow chin of an old man. Beneath each face, a pair of thin, stony hands gestured furiously, hurling spell after spell across the bailey, blasting orcs and undead and even other wallbound with wave after wave of fire, force, and lightning.

Kleef pointed at the nearest face. “I take it that is your grandfather,” he said, glancing at Gingrid. “Sadrach?”

Gingrid nodded. “I’ve never seen him this bad,” she said. “I don’t think we can make it inside.”

“And that’s where Grumbar’s Temple is?” Arietta asked. “Beneath the keep?”

Again, Gingrid nodded. “Beneath the dungeon catacombs,” she said. “The temple is easy enough to find-but not when he’s like this.”

The companions were atop the curtain wall, studying the keep from the upper level of the little gatehouse. The drawbridge that led to the keep was lowered, and the portcullis that protected the doors was raised. The fire-hail had finally stopped falling, and the wounds that Kleef had suffered against Yder were already closed, healed by the spark of Helm’s divine essence that Kleef now carried. But it was growing clearer by the moment that entering the keep would be far more challenging than simply crossing the bridge and booting open the doors.

Sooner or later, they would have to risk Sadrach’s ire.

After a moment, Joelle asked, “How did Sadrach come to be like this?” She waved her hand around the bailey. “How did they all come to be like this?”

“It was during the Spellplague,” Gingrid answered. “When the Underchasm opened, Grandfather believed his magic was powerful enough to protect Castle Sadrach. And it was-but you can see what became of us. Those who were not wallbound became spellscarred or plaguechanged.”

“Us?” Arietta asked. “Then you were here? A hundred years ago?”

Gingrid nodded. “That is my curse,” she said. “To live among the dead and never age.”

“I know a woman in Westgate who would pay her entire fortune for the second part of your curse,” Malik said. “But we lack the time to wait out your grandfather’s temper. Surely, there is another way into the dungeon?”

Gingrid shook her head. “No.”

Malik studied the drawbridge for a time, then turned to Arietta. “We have only one choice,” he said. “You must command Sadrach to let us inside.”

Arietta frowned. “Me?” she asked. “How?”

“Just as you commanded Gingrid.” Malik looked up at the wizard’s wallbound face. “I cannot be certain your blessing will work on him, but even if you fail, your death will be no worse than ours.”

Arietta looked confused. “Blessing?” she asked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I am talking about Siamorphe,” Malik replied. “Surely, you have felt her presence since we entered the castle?”

Arietta thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Most of the time, I’ve just been scared.”

“That means nothing,” Malik said, too quickly. “I have always found being Chosen a most frightening thing.”

Kleef saw Arietta’s eyes light with pride-and he immediately grew suspicious of Malik’s motives.

“Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it,” he ordered the little man. “We’ll find another way inside.”

“No, you won’t,” Gingrid said, watching Arietta. “And the doomlord is right. I felt Arietta’s power when she summoned me to obedience. She’s certainly someone ’s Chosen.”

“It must have happened when you agreed to offer your life for Toril,” Malik said, continuing to speak to Arietta. “Surely, that is the kind of self-sacrifice any god values.”

“Enough,” Kleef said, stepping toward Malik. “One more word from you and I’ll tear out your tongue.”

“No, Kleef.” Arietta raised a palm to stop him. “I think Malik may be right.”

“ What ?” Kleef saw the hurt flash across her face and instantly regretted his reaction. “What I mean is, Malik could be playing on your emotions. You know how tricky he is.”

“I’m aware of that.” Arietta’s voice was reserved without being hostile, but even Kleef knew she resented his doubts. “I’m also aware of what happened in the barracks-and no one is in a better position to reflect on those events than I am.”

“Maybe,” Kleef said. “But even if Malik is right-”

“If Arietta thinks Malik is right, then I’m sure he is,” Joelle said.

She took Kleef by the elbow. “Unless you know of some easier way into the keep, there’s nothing to be gained by questioning her judgment.”

As Joelle spoke those last few words, she squeezed Kleef’s elbow hard, and he realized he was only undermining Arietta’s confidence in a decision she had already made.

And that was one of the things Kleef loved most about Arietta, her determination to be worthy. He nodded reluctantly and stepped back.

“Forgive my rudeness.” He shot a warning glance in Malik’s direction, then added, “When it comes to our doomlord, I find it hard not to be suspicious.”

“As do I,” Arietta said, giving him a warm smile. “But I saw the same reaction Malik did.”

Keeping a watchful eye on the orcs’ progress across the bailey, the companions spent the next few minutes developing a plan, asking Gingrid about her grandfather’s personality and discussing how Arietta should phrase her commands. Kleef was careful to avoid casting any doubt on her chances of success, though inside he was aching to take her place and simply charge the keep. He tried to remind himself that Malik would not risk Arietta’s life lightly, since the little man still believed that only she could trigger Sune’s binding magic. But the thought wasn’t much comfort. Malik was just too unpredictable.

All too soon, Arietta gave Joelle a long, lingering kiss and stepped out onto the drawbridge. As they had discussed, she made no effort to hurry or attract attention, but simply walked purposefully toward the keep until she saw Sadrach’s eyes drop in her direction.

The wizard’s stony fingers immediately began to weave a spell.

Arietta raised an arm and wagged her finger at him. “I’ll have none of that, Sadrach,” she called, continuing across the bridge. “You are not to harm me or my friends in any way.”

The face on Arietta’s side of the keep lowered its arched brows, and the hands gestured more frantically. Kleef had to resist the urge to draw Watcher and rush out beside her-which would only have gotten them both killed, he suspected.

Arietta continued to stride forward. “You will not cast magic at me or my friends.”

Her voice was commanding but nervous, and Sadrach’s hands paused for only a moment before renewing their gestures. Arietta continued across the bridge at the same steady pace, her stride just awkward enough to betray the doubt Kleef wished he had not planted in her mind.