Douglas Niles - Fate of Thorbardin

“Ah, you were paying attention,” the wizard said as if praising a wise student. “Surely a well-read woman such as yourself knows of the Life-Tree of the Hylar?”

He placed her staff on the ground, well away from her reach, and as he turned back to her, she noticed that the anvil on the head of the artifact once again began to glow, faint and pale but still visible to the priestess in the vault of darkness.

“Of course I do. It was the most splendid city in all the realms of the dwarves, more magnificent than Garnet Thax or any place else in Thorbardin or even in the most ancient of dwarf homes. It was carved from a pillar of stone that rose from the middle of the Urkhan Sea and extended more than a hundred levels from the water all the way up to the ceiling of the cavern.”

“Correct. And have your studies informed you of what happened to the Life-Tree?”

“Yes, my mother told me. It collapsed during the Chaos War, crumbled away into the water because it was so weakened by the fire dragons who bored right through the supporting structures of the bedrock.”

“Yes, indeed. It collapsed. But it didn’t vanish into the water. Instead, the base of the pillar became an island-an island of barren stone.”

“An island of death …” Gretchan concluded.

“Well, yes. For a while, anyway. For years after the war, pieces of rock were continually breaking off from the ceiling and falling down onto this place. It was merely a matter of odds that made it almost certainly fatal to anyone who tried to spend more than a day or two here. Hence its name. But in the more recent years, the last of the loose rocks seemed to have fallen. So we’re really quite … well, mostly safe out here.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she challenged him, seeing his scarred face more clearly as he strutted just beyond the bars. “What are you going to do with me?”

“With you?” Willim’s voice was an evil chuckle. “Perhaps I want to do something to you. You’re a very attractive female, after all. And I’m a male, normal in some respects at least. I have needs and you have the means of satisfying them.”

Gretchan felt a growing sickness in the pit of her stomach. She glanced at Facet’s pale face, her red lips clenched in anger as she stood behind and below the wizard. Her eyes shot daggers at Gretchan, while the cleric wondered if there weren’t some way she could turn the apprentice’s jealousy to her advantage.

As if sensing the young female’s attention, Willim turned and addressed her curtly. “Take the case of potions into the space below, and store it for me.”

“Yes, Master,” Facet said softly. She turned to obey but still flashed Gretchan a look of fierce resentment that made the cleric all the more determined to try to exploit such a weakness in one of her captors.

Her musings on that track were interrupted by another arrival as Sadie materialized nearby. She held a sack, presumably the bag of holding with the wizard’s spellbooks and scrolls, in one hand, and she clutched something to her frail chest with the other. When she moved to set it down, Gretchan-and Willim-recognized it as the bell jar containing the lone blue spark of light.

“I did not give you permission to bring that,” the wizard said coldly.

“I didn’t ask,” Sadie replied, meeting his eyeless face with an impassive gaze. “But I sensed that we are departing the lair, perhaps for good. I was not about to leave Peat behind.”

The wizard snorted but didn’t argue. Finally, he uttered a short, cold laugh. “Very well. It’s not like you have the power to change him back to his true form; only I can do that. Really, it’s good that you brought him here. It simply guarantees that my power over you will remain secure.”

Facet returned to the hilltop without the case. She did, however, carry a glass of red wine in her hand. Apparently tired of being left out of the conversation, she stepped forward and kneeled at the wizard’s feet. “Your power over me remains absolute, Master,” she offered. “Make your wishes known, and I shall obey.”

“This I know, my pet,” Willim said absently, stepping around her to regard Sadie with his eyeless face.

“Would you like me to give you a drink?’ she asked, offering the glass she held in both hands.

“Not now,” Willim declared, lost in thought.

“Do you want me to kill the priestess?” Facet asked suddenly. “I failed you once at that task, but I would not fail again.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” the wizard snapped. “Not when I have imprisoned her in a cage and stolen her most precious possession and most powerful weapon. But I do not want her slain, not yet. You see, I have a use for her. It pleases me to keep her alive.”

“What use?” Gretchan demanded, realizing that Facet had asked the same question at the same time.

Willim seemed to find the echoing duet amusing, for he threw back his head and laughed aloud.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll answer your questions.” He planted his fists on his hips, and turned his scarred, stitched visage toward Gretchan. “You, my dear priestess, are here to serve as bait. And this”-he nudged the Staff of Reorx with his toe-“might just be the weapon that can bring about the end of our world.”

The plaza of Norbardin was, if not crowded, at least populated with some evidence of commerce and celebration. A few vendors had taken advantage of Tarn’s return to bring out their carts and set up stalls-acts that would have been risky under the lawless regime of Willim the Black since his leather-clad enforcers had a habit of plundering food and drink and other goods from honest merchants without feeling any obligation to pay for the same.

More than a few paying customers had emerged from the shattered city’s silent quarters, gathering around the stalls, especially those selling food and drink, and discussing the stunning changes wrought in the city, and the kingdom, over the past few days. They had watched in awe as the Firespitter had spewed liquid hell into the gatehouse, and they had cheered as the Kayolin dwarves had stormed the ramparts and finally opened the great gates.

Then they had remained there, congregating in a festive mood as the Kayolin, and later Tharkadan, troops had vanished down the long tunnel of the Urkhan Road.

The impromptu gatherings were rudely shattered as General Darkstone’s four columns burst from four different streets with perfect coordination. They ignored the ruined edifice of the royal palace, where some of the invading troops had set up stations, and raced right across the plaza, where the panicked citizenry immediately scattered toward the streets and buildings around the plaza’s fringe.

The attackers moved with focus and speed, heading for the most important objective in all Thorbardin: the two Firespitters, currently being cleaned and reloaded just outside the gates of the roadway to the Urkhan Sea.

Chap Bitters was the first to reach one of the machines, which was defended by only a company of light infantry and its regular crew. The chief of that crew leaped down from his seat and pulled out a long sword, but the Theiwar captain stabbed him through the heart in the first instant of contact. The rest of Bitters’s men swarmed around the base of the massive iron contraption. The crew tried to put up a spirited fight, but they had been taken by surprise and, thoroughly outnumbered, had no hope of resisting the attack.

Darkstone himself followed the column that attacked the second Firespitter. That one was farther away, and thus, its crew had a little more warning of the attack. A few brave dwarves started to move the huge machine into a pivot, trying vainly to bring it around to face the charging Theiwar, but it quickly became apparent that the thing was too ungainly for rapid redeployment. Witnessing the fate of the Kayolin dwarves who tried to defend the first Firespitter, the crew of the second then wisely abandoned the machine and sprinted through the gates leading toward the Urkhan Road.