David Cook: Uneasy Alliances

From the foaming water surged yellow-gray tentacles and a great bulbous head. Sharessa, half stunned, saw on it the countenance she had glimpsed before, carven in stone and engraved in marble.

The mage-king, Aetheric III.

Again Sharessa heard the voice she'd heard before in the palace chambers when they were first attempting to steal the bloodforge. That seemed a lifetime ago. Then the voice had been beautiful, like a great organ playing on a thousand pipes.

Now the voice had lost none of its timbre. It still resounded through the great hall of the Temple of Umberlee, and Shar could hear echoes of it floating across the water from the ruined city. But now the words it spoke were gibberish, the ravings of a mind released from sanity. With growing horror, she realized that the words she heard were not only in her ears but also in her mind, that Aetheric no longer distinguished between speech and telepathy. And as he spoke, she felt the madness and terror of that vast mind.

We rise from the deep… We are the god of the deep and of the overworld… Blood is power; power is life; the bloodforge is life… Our beloved Doegan… why are you doing this?… Why are you doing this?

There was a burst of insane laughter. Aetheric swung a great tentacled arm inside the temple. Artemis and Sharessa rolled one way, Kern and Trandon the other, the latter pulling with him the groggy Noph. The voice rose to a scream.

We will have the forge… forged in blood, the blood of the people. We are the people; they serve us with their blood… the blood of the gods… Doegan, behold your god!

Garkim screamed again, his face contorted. White spittle dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He staggered against Ingrar, who wrapped both arms around the former chancellor, his face reflecting the horror that he felt. Aetheric clawed frantically at the temple floor. The watchers could see now that one of his eyes was swollen and blind, the other dim and rheumy. His skin was mottled. Gray blood gushed from half a dozen wounds.

Now the mage-king seemed to sense the presence of the bloodforge. His tentacles shot out again, but fell just short of the stone. He strained to lift his vast, unseen bulk into the temple. Stones around the entrance cracked and gave way as he thundered against the walls.

Give it to us! he howled. Give it to us! It is ours! It knows us! It wants us!

Entreri flung himself on top of the bloodforge, shielding it with his body. The mage-king's eye focused on him.

You! Entreri the assassin… We give you blood for blood.

Tendrils of magical energy writhed from the mage-king's tentacles and surrounded the little assassin, dragging at his body. Entreri twisted, shouting in agony as gashes split the skin of his face. Blood washed down over his neck in streams, and his body wracked in agony. Then, resting his skeleton hand on the now-glowing forge, his screams turned to a cry of triumph as a mighty warrior, far taller than any mortal, stepped from the air, swinging a warhammer at the thrashing. figure of Aetheric.

The hammer rose and fell above the mage-king's head. Aetheric's face vanished in a mass of blood and shredded flesh, and an agonizing telepathic shriek rang through the temple with such force that windows high in the dome shattered and Noph rolled on the floor, covering his ears with his cloak.

The mage-king's tentacles wrapped around the forge warrior and, with a last dying effort, tore the creature in two. The companions heard a heartrending moan of My forge, and then the body of Aetheric sank slowly back out of the temple entrance into the waters of the bay.

Cautiously they picked themselves up. Artemis still sat, one hand on the bloodforge, eyes closed, unmoving. Noph approached him slowly, joined by Trandon.

"Is he…?" Noph asked tremulously.

Trandon examined the little man swiftly. "No. He's unconscious, though. He must have channeled tremendous energy through the forge to create that warrior. In any case, we'll make sure he's not a threat anymore." The fighter took off his belt and bound the assassin's hands tightly behind him, then turned. "Now, Mistress Sharessa…"

Shar was standing by Garkim, helping the Doeganer to his feet. "What?" She glared at Trandon. "Do you want to tie me up, too? Where d'you think I'd get to now?"

Trandon looked at Kern, who shrugged, then at Noph, who looked pointedly away. The fighter lifted his shoulders in resignation, then turned his attention back to the bloodforge. "Everyone stand back," he cautioned, lifting his hands preparatory to casting a spell.

"Wait!" The cry came from Garkim. He raised his own hand. "What are you doing? You have no right to destroy this thing!"

"It is far too dangerous a device to be simply left alone," replied Trandon. "Especially now. The emperor is dead, the land overrun by fiends. Anarchy reigns in those streets." He gestured toward the town. "You've seen to what lengths an unscrupulous man such as this-he stirred Entreri with his foot-will go to get his hands on such an artifact. How much easier to do it now that it is no longer hidden away in the palace. The only way to guarantee the safety of Faerun and of all Toril is to destroy all these things. I can't get at the others, but I'd like to make a start with this one."

Garkim shook his head and hurried down the steps. "Not so, my lord wizard." His voice shook slightly. "Before Emperor Aetheric died, he mind-linked with me. I can use the forge. I know something of the power it possesses. So far, we've only just scratched the surface of that power. I think Emperor Aetheric was on the verge of discovering some far greater strength that lies within it, just before your arrival in the city. Now, with his knowledge implanted in my brain, perhaps I can discover that secret."

Trandon considered a moment, then shook his head. "The risk is still too great. Forgive me, Lord Garkim, but I have seen much evil in this land, and I don't like the idea at all of this forge becoming even more powerful."

"Garkim is right, Trandon." The voice was Ingrar's. The blind youth stepped from the altar and approached the wizard. "He needs the power of the forge to drive the fiends from this land and to rebuild the kingdom of Doegan as a bulwark against their attacks. The Fallen Temple is greatly weakened by this day's events, but they aren't destroyed. The forge is needed."

"Trandon has a point, though," argued Kern. "What's to prevent the bloodforge from being used for evil as well as for good?"

Ingrar smiled. "I will be the guarantor of that, Kern. I am the Voice of Tyr; he speaks through me in this land. I will be the guardian of justice in the Utter East." He laid his hand on Garkim's shoulder. "You and I, Lord Garkim, have both been maimed. As a boy, you suffered from the taunts of your fellows because of your special powers. I have lost the sight of my eyes. Yet together, the gods intend us to heal this wounded land. Shall we undertake their will?"

Garkim looked at him for a long moment. Then his hand came up to clasp Ingrar's forearm firmly.

Trandon looked at them closely. "If I am reading Tyr's will aright, I leave the bloodforge in your care. But beware." His voice hardened. "I don't think any of us fully understands what this artifact is capable of. Such strong magic is a dangerous thing if you take it lightly."

Ingrar smiled. "Don't worry. Such matters are now in the hands of the gods." He turned to Garkim. "But now Eldrinpar has need of us."

He gestured toward shore. The others, gazing through the shattered doorway of the temple, saw the skyline of the city, dark against the morning sky. Across the rooftops and from the streets crawled, hopped, and walked fiends, converging on the plaza of Umberlee.

Garkim nodded. "Yes. The time for cleansing has come. Let us begin.''