David Gross: An Opportunity for Profit

It was a ridiculous thought, Sharessa knew. Even if he could manage to locate the bloodforge of Doegan, it was inconceivable that he could steal it. Just the question of transporting the thing half a world away, to Faerun-it was ludicrous!

"Wait!" hissed Belgin. He crouched beside one of the Mar sailors — Brenn was his name, thought Sharessa. Brenn held his torch high while Ingrar peered across the ground between them and the forest.

"What?" asked Belmer, after waiting a long moment.

"Nothing," said Belgin with a shrug. "Maybe just an animal."

"Let's take the fight to it," said Brindra.

"It has the advantage in the woods. If it made that sound, it may just be trying to draw us in."

Brindra didn't argue, but she looked even more unhappy, if that were possible. Rings smacked her shoulder lightly, and they turned back to follow the ravine.

Sharessa was the next to hear the rustling, and she wasn't the only one. Every hundred feet or so, another sound came from the black trees. At first they were only rustling noises. Later came the snapping of branches.

The sounds began to work on their nerves. Brindra spun around at every noise, and Turbalt let out a pathetic squealing cry. Anvil's face grew darker in the torchlight, his eyes seeming to sink deeper into his battered face. Soon, every wooden snap was followed by a harsh curse.

"Damn it! Give me your sword, Brindra," croaked Anvil. He sounded like a man who hadn't drunk for days, though he had shared water with the rest of them not more than an hour earlier.

"Don't be a fool, Anvil," said Belmer. He moved to stand immediately in front of the big man. Beside the giant Sharker, Belmer's small stature was exaggerated. He looked like a halfling beside a man.

"That's what it wants," Belmer continued. "It's working on your mind, now." Sharessa saw Brindra standing behind the smaller man, her hand upon the hilt of her sword. Belmer had to know she was there, but his attention was on Anvil.

"Don't you think I know that?" Anvil's rough voice was a dry landslide. "I'm sick of it. I'll kill the fiend, or it'll kill me. I don't care, so long as this damnable stalking stops!"

Sharessa was sure that Belmer would strike Anvil or kill the big man himself. Even with Brindra's help, Anvil didn't stand a chance against the compact swordsman. Sharessa tried to catch Brindra's eye so she could shake her head, warn her away from the argument. But Brindra's eyes were boring a hole in the back of Belmer's head. Slowly, quietly, she drew the sword free of its scabbard.

Before Sharessa could decide whether to cry a warning-and whom to warn-Belmer surprised her by taking a different tack.

"If you die, who will carry Ingrar?" said Belmer. Anvil's eyes opened wide and dull. He hadn't been thinking of his wounded companion.

"Perhaps Sharessa and Belgin could drag him over these rocks, but only you can carry him to Eldrinpar." Belmer's voice was still cool and professional, but Sharessa was surprised to hear something other than commands or threats in the face of insubordination.

"We're beyond the bonds of your contracts, now," continued Belmer. "Not that I'm freeing you from them. But they mean less every time one of you is hurt or killed. They mean nothing if we all die here. So listen to me, not because you signed your contract, but because we all want to get to Eldrinpar alive."

Sharessa could see by Anvil's expression that Belmer had won him over, but hatred burned even hotter in Brindra's eyes. Her sword arm trembled as she raised the blade to strike.

"I want all of us to survive," said Belmer. He didn't turn around, but Sharessa could see that he was speaking to Brindra. "It would be a shame to lose another of you so close to our goal."

Sharessa knew then that if Brindra's blade moved another inch, Belmer would kill her. The big woman's cutlass would never even touch the swordsman, and the party would leave her body for the fiend. She sought Brindra's eyes with her own, but the barrel-shaped warrior stared at the back of Belmer's head, her lips contorting in rage and uncertainty.

Then she lowered her sword and turned away. Still not looking back at her, Belmer patted Anvil on the arm as he had earlier that night, as if he were a friend.

"Let's get out of these woods."

They crouched in the quiet darkness, listening. The breeze did little to relieve the sticky heat. Sharessa felt the snakes of her own sweat crawling under her shirt. After spending weeks aboard a ship, one didn't usually notice the smell of the other crew, even lathered after hard work or, as now, hard flight. But Sharessa smelled the others' sweat now. It had a sour, frightened tang. If the fiend had had any trouble tracking them before — and it didn't seem to have any-then it could easily sniff them out now.

Belmer had ordered them to put out the lights after they found the bridge. Now they watched it in the moonlight, looking for some sign that the fiend had gotten there first. It was hard to sit still in this nasty warmth.

In Doegan the temperature usually dropped at night, but it now seemed to grow hotter with every hour. Maybe the fiend brought something of the nine hells with it. Sharessa shuddered at the thought and tried to concentrate on spotting anything unusual about this bridge.

They were almost upon the span before they saw it. Belmer had remained with the group for the past few hours, rather than slipping off on his own to scout ahead. Sharessa couldn't decide whether he stayed to ensure Brindra didn't conspire against him or whether he was reluctant to stray too far from her magical sword.

"It looks safe," said Belgin quietly.

"Does it matter?" asked Rings sarcastically.

"I suppose not," replied Belgin in a tired but still amiable tone. "If the fiend doesn't get us, we'll bake in this heat."

"Let's go," said Belmer. "Don't set foot on the bridge yet. But get ready to cross quickly."

They rose and moved quickly to the bridge. This far from the trees, they almost didn't need torches to see. The unimpeded moonlight illuminated the full length of the arch. Its stones were bone white under the moon, and creeping vines ran like black veins across its surface. A shadow ran along one side, refreshingly crisp and black after the vague shapes of the forest. Two narrow ruts ran from the end of the bridge, leading toward the forest's edge and, no doubt, a long-overgrown path.

At the bridge, Belmer bent to scoop up a handful of stones from the wheel-worn path. In the same motion, he scattered them across the floor of the stone span. Everyone watched as they bounced and skittered across.

"Seems real to me," remarked Anvil. He held Ingrar upright. The youth had regained enough of his senses to stand when helped, but he still couldn't walk alone.

"Good," murmured Ingrar. "I wan' sleep inna bed at the palace 'night." Sharessa was glad that he had recovered some sense of humor when he awoke, but she feared that he would never regain his sight. Worse, his slurred words suggested that his injury had affected his brain as well as his eyes.

"Rings, you take the lead," commanded Belmer. "Brindra, you bring up the rear." The dwarf nodded and started across the bridge, two sailors behind him. Anvil lifted Ingrar in his arms and followed; then came Turbalt and the two remaining sailors. Belmer and Sharessa were next, with Brindra in the rear. The big woman backed onto the bridge with her sword at guard, ready for a rush from behind.

Sharessa crept carefully toward the center of the bridge. Rings was already there, marching steadily toward the other side, axe clutched firmly in his grip. Sharessa began to hope that they would cross without incident, but then she saw the dwarf stumble. He glanced down at his feet to see what had tripped him, then struggled to free himself.