David Cook: Uneasy Alliances

Kern stood, holding a robe loosely in one hand, indecision written upon his forehead. "It's… dishonorable to go into battle disguised in this way."

"Oh, come on, Kern," said Noph sharply. "Think about what he said." He struggled into a robe that was somewhat too long for him. "What does honor mean, if by your actions you endanger everybody and everything worth fighting for? It's a question of weighing profit and loss. Whatever loss there is to your honor, the profit we gain by saving Faerun is greater."

Kern looked at him in astonishment and then burst out laughing. "By Tyr himself, Freeman Kastonoph, you're a true son of Waterdeep. Always counting coins in the back of your mind. Your father's a lumber merchant, isn't he?"

Noph flushed a deep red. "That's not the point. I'm not like my father."

"Never mind, never mind." Still rumbling with suppressed laughter, the paladin slipped the robe over his head. The others were already attired, except for the wounded guardsman. Entreri turned to him. "Stay here, out of sight." He nodded to the others, and the party stepped into the street and crossed the plaza toward the temple.

Other hooded figures were still making their way to the ceremony. Considering what Garkim had told them of the conspiratorial nature of the Fallen Temple, Noph was astonished to see so many of them. There must be nearly a hundred worshipers, he thought. Crossing the causeway, over which waves splashed, spraying the devotees with spume, the company, taking care to stay close to one another, entered the temple.

"Here," murmured Garkim softly, drawing them into a small alcove in which they were partially shielded from the sight of the crowd within. Ingrar, whom Noph had guided across the causeway, now turned away from the youth and began to examine the walls of the temple, stroking the stone gently with his fingers. The others looked cautiously around the corner and into the main room.

The interior was a domed circle. In the center was an altar surrounded by candles. As in the underground room, a pedestal stood behind the altar. Several niches around the edges of the room had formerly held images of Umberlee, but these had been wrenched from their positions by the Fallen Temple priests and lay shattered on the floor. To one side were the bodies of two men who, from their clothing, Garkim recognized as a priest of Umberlee and his acolyte. They had been slashed and stabbed many times, their corpses kicked aside in blood-soaked clothes.

At present, the attention of everyone in the temple was focused on the altar. From an antechamber came a chanting and a whiff of incense. The crowd parted, and three robed priests bore into view the bloodforge. It was held by an iron tripod and carried on a wooden frame. It glowed and flickered with power.

The canting worshipers placed it carefully on the altar. Now, from the opposite corner of the room, came a loud wailing scream. The crowd again drew back, this time to allow passage of three burly men, stripped to the waist, their faces concealed by hoods. Between them, they dragged a portly man, totally naked, his chins wobbling in fear. His stomach swayed obscenely from side to side. The chanting picked up rhythm, and the crowd began to sway in time to it.

"What are they doing?" whispered Noph to Shar, who stood next to him. She hushed him with a gesture.

The servants placed the man on the altar, face to the ceiling. Two held his arms, the other his legs, even as he struggled and screamed.

A figure stepped forward, red-robed, a silver circlet round his neck. From it dangled a medallion inscribed with designs that Noph could not clearly make out. The priest lifted his hands and face in appeal.

" О Mighty Ysdar, hear this day our prayer. Feel the power of our sacrifice. Join with us as we feast."

In a circle of motion, he whirled, drawing a long, curved, cruel knife from beneath his robes. He slashed in one quick motion, lengthwise down the body of the victim, who gave a ringing scream of agony. The worshipers closest to the altar rushed forward, their bodies hiding the victim, whose screams grew fainter and finally died away.

In a few moments, the crowd at the altar had cleared. The victim's body was no more than a shredded mass of flesh and bone. Some in the crowd were still wiping their mouths.

Noph swayed on his feet. In his travels thus far, he'd never seen anything this horrible. Next to him, he sensed rather than heard Kern reaching beneath his robe for his sword.

"Wait!" Trandon put a hand out to stay the paladin.

Kern shook his head angrily. "I cannot watch this any longer, Trandon. It must be stopped." He looked around at the rest of the party. "Are you ready?"

Artemis stepped back a pace. "Not yet. Not while there are ten times as many of them as there are of us."

"Coward!" Kern hissed at him. "I always knew you were a coward!"

Shar joined Entreri. "He's right, Kern. There's no point in just going out there and getting slaughtered."

Kern ignored her words. "Noph?"

Noph stood for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he stepped forward. "You're right. This can't go on. We have to do something. We have to fight for something right, even if we're going to get killed trying.'' He looked at Kern. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe ifs not just profit and loss."

Kern clapped his shoulder. "Lord Garkim? What say you and your men?"

Garkim smiled tightly. "As I told you earlier, Sir Knight, I recognize the danger to my homeland. And I can see what will happen to all the kingdoms of the world if these people are not stopped. I do not choose to fight. I must fight."

From the back of the alcove, a quiet voice said, "Yes. We must fight." Ingrar came forward. His face was glowing, and, astonishingly, he was smiling, as if he had become privy to an enormous secret and was bursting to tell it.

"Ingrar! What is it?" cried Noph.

"Go now and fight! Don't ask more! You must go now!" The young pirate's urgency infected even Artemis and Shar.

Kern lifted his sword. "Ready?"

"No." Trandon again lifted a hand. "Kern, you, I, Sharessa, and the guards must create as much of a circle around us as possible. Lord Garkim, Entreri, and Noph, move with us, and when we come near the altar, seize the bloodforge."

"What then?" asked Noph.

Trandon looked at him, a corner of his mouth quirking cynically. "Then we try to get to the door. Ingrar, stay here, and when you sense the forge is near, start for the outside. I don't think you'll need anyone to guide you; you seem to feel the forge in some other way." He lifted his hands. "First let's see if we can get their attention."

He spoke an arcane word, and from his fingertips a blazing ball of light leapt forward and streaked across the crowd, exploding against the far wall. Shrieks came from worshipers, who became sudden torches, their robes igniting in a fiery display of arcane power.

"Now!" yelled Kern. The company surged forward. Kern's hammer glowed in the light of the bloodforge as the heavy blunt weapon rose and fell, driving the devotees of the Fallen Temple before him. Trandon had time for a blast of lightning that reduced two worshipers to smoking cinders; then he caught up his staff to defend himself against an onslaught of squealing Doeganers. Sharessa's sword flashed in and out, parrying and thrusting as she tried by the sheer skill of her swordplay to keep the howling mob at bay. By her side, one, then another of Lord Garkim's guards was overborne and dragged away.

Noph, his dagger out, defended himself as best he could against the clutching, bloodstained fingers of the crowd. They fought their way to the altar and surrounded it. Noph, Entreri, and Garkim grabbed the tripod holding the bloodforge and lifted-and stopped in frustration.

"It's too heavy," Noph yelled to Kern above the din. "We can't lift it." The forge glowed malevolently, and Noph realized something with a shock. "It doesn't want us to lift it. It knows what it wants."