Douglas Niles - Fate of Thorbardin

The priestess spread her hands, palms up, in the universal gesture of peaceful intent. The apprentice younger whispered something to the elder, and finally the older one approached the cage and snapped her fingers.

Immediately Gretchan heard all the sounds of her own body, the things she had so often taken for granted. As the breath rasped through her nose, her pulse thrumming audibly again, she nodded and said, “Thank you.”

“Beware,” cautioned Sadie. “If he returns, this will not go well … for any of us.”

“I know. But I’m so grateful. I was afraid I’d go mad, being cooped up in that silence. It’s a powerful spell,” she added, nodding appreciatively at Sadie.

The old dwarf maid snorted skeptically. “It’s basic magic. Real power … well, that’s what you demonstrated when you vanquished the fire dragon like that. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Remembering that the two apprentices had teleported away as the dragon arrived, Gretchan looked at her quizzically. “I didn’t know you saw it. I thought you had gone somewhere safer.”

Sadie smiled unapologetically. “We were on the far side of the city. We expected you to die and, well …”

“We wanted to watch,” Facet said sharply. She scowled, clearly disappointed by the cleric’s survival. “How did you defeat the monster, anyway?” Facet demanded. “We thought the Chaos creature was immortal!”

“I didn’t vanquish the creature,” Gretchan said. “All the glory goes to Reorx, Master of the Forge and Father God of All Dwarves,” she added pointedly, reminding her captors of the shared kinship of their ancestry. “I was merely his tool, and a prisoner at that, as you well know.”

“I do know,” Sadie said, nodding. “About being a prisoner as well.”

“Oh?” Gretchan prodded, grateful to have the conversation and curious as to what she might learn. “Who made you a prisoner?”

“Why, Willim, of course,” the elder apprentice declared as if surprised at the question. Her eyes flickered to the side, toward the laboratory table, and Gretchan remembered the bell jar, the blue spark, and Sadie’s constant attention to that mysterious light.

“Is that a prison? A glass cage?’ she asked.

Sadie stared at her again, frankly. “Yes. I was there too until very recently. Willim thought my husband and I were betraying him, and in his rage he was … not kind to us.”

Gretchan nodded sympathetically then turned her eyes to Facet, who was watching them, her face an unreadable mask. “And you? Were you his prisoner as well?”

“I am here by my own choice!” she asserted fiercely. “My master has taught me very much. He is training me, and I am learning from him. I serve him, and he shares the deepest secrets of the Order of the Black Robes with me.”

“I have noticed that he doesn’t seem to treat you very well, however,” Gretchan declared gently. “And it seems he forces you to do some … unsavory … things.”

For the first time, the pale female’s face colored. Facet tossed back her hair and lifted her chin proudly. “I use all the tools at my disposal,” she said coldly and with a little too much bravado.

The priestess nodded, maintaining her sympathetic tone. “I understand. We all live in a man’s world. We must all do what we can to get along.”

“Why are you even talking to us?” Facet blurted. “Surely you remember that it was I who tried to kill you in the woods, on your way to Pax Tharkas?” She sneered. “You were a fool, traveling by yourself, sleeping with a big fire.”

“Oh, I remember. You scared the daylights out of me. And you were skilled with your magic-you almost killed me. But if I am such a fool, doesn’t that make you a greater fool for your failure?”

Gretchan again saw fear flicker across the young woman’s face. “I … I was already punished, severely, for my failure,” she said sullenly. “You will not survive me again.”

“I apologize for my words and am sorry you were punished,” the cleric said. “Of course I had to defend myself, but I can attest that you tried very hard to do your job. Your master must be very cruel, indeed.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you talking to us?” Facet demanded again, her tone thick with suspicion.

The cleric shrugged, choosing her words carefully. “I’m lonely, for one thing. I’m used to being surrounded by people. And I’m a talker and a writer by nature. To be locked up in a cage and especially muffled under a spell of silence … well, it’s almost enough to drive me mad.”

The discussion ended with a sudden gasp from Facet, who quickly spun away from the cage and dropped to her knees. Sadie, more slowly, turned and bowed as the wizard materialized abruptly in the space in front of his table. He was frowning, agitated, and at first didn’t even take note of his accomplices or their reactions. He smashed a fist down against the stone surface then paced angrily away in the direction of the chasm.

“My master, is there news?” asked Sadie, shooting Gretchan a look of warning.

Instead of answering, he took up the cleric’s staff and stalked over to the cage where Gretchan, taking care to utter no sound, sat watching him. With a snap of his fingers he dispelled the magic of the silence spell, doing so with such distracted haste that he apparently didn’t notice the magic had already been neutralized.

“You must be ready to travel,” he said. “Have you eaten and drunk your fill?” “Yes,” she replied calmly.

“Good. Now get ready, all of you!” he barked in a tone of command. “We’re going to the Isle of the Dead. Facet, gather a case of potions-a large case, for we may be gone for a while. You and I shall go at once, taking our prisoner.

“Sadie,” he continued. “I want you to collect my spellbooks and the scrolls. Bring them all; use a bag of holding to contain them. Follow us as soon as you can.” Willim himself took Gretchan’s staff from his worktable, holding it in both hands and pausing for a moment as if to savor the touch of the powerful artifact.

Gretchan watched in silent apprehension as the two apprentices set about their tasks, obeying their master’s commands. She saw Sadie looking around with alarm and felt a stab of sympathy for the elder female, who obviously didn’t want to leave the jar with the blue spark behind.

Facet looked at Sadie only once, but when she did, her dark eyes were pinpoints of seething, jealous rage.

Gretchan felt no sympathy for the younger wizard, who only caused her a cold, penetrating fear.

“We’ve confirmed the prisoner’s report and located the main body of Willim’s army,” Fister Morewood reported breathlessly, speaking to Brandon and ignoring Otaxx and King Bellowgranite, who kept clearing his throat ostentatiously. With a gesture, Brandon directed his lieutenant to address his words to the monarch.

“Uh, sorry, my liege. The enemy seems to be falling back to the Urkhan Sea,” the Second Legion commander reported. “But they’re putting up a pretty stiff fight in the gatehouse. The fort blocks our path, but we’ve confirmed that there’s a wide avenue that runs from the city’s main gate down to the water.”

“That’s right,” Tarn said. “It’s nearly a hundred feet wide and perhaps four miles long. It ends at a wharf at the edge of the lake.”

“We’ve interrogated a number of prisoners,” Morewood explained. “All claim that Willim has more than a thousand men on the Urkhan Road, gathered in that tunnel. They’re waiting for his command, so it may be that we can catch them by surprise if we move quickly.”

“What kind of fight are they mounting at the gatehouse?” asked the king.