Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [14]
Artek shrugged his shoulders. He had no sympathy for nobles whose stupidity put them in danger. "And why isn't it feared that he found his way into the kobolds' stew pot?"
"This is why." Darien set a small blue crystal on the table. A faint light flickered inside the gem. "This is a heart jewel," the lord explained. "They are magical stones, each linked to the one it is created for. This one belongs to Lord Silvertor. The light within pulses in time to his heart, and by that we know he yet lives. The nearer the jewel is to its master, the brighter the light. By the faintness of the light in this jewel, we know that Lord Silvertor is lost deep in Undermountain-deeper than any hunting party has ever ventured."
Artek gazed thoughtfully at the pulsing jewel. "And I suppose you want me to go down and find your missing little lord."
Darien nodded gravely. "It is imperative that we find him, Ar'talen." His voice dropped to a dire whisper. "You see, in two days' time, there is to be a vote among all the nobility of Waterdeep. The vote will determine who is to take the seventh seat in the Circle of Nobles, left vacant after the untimely death of Lord Rithilor Koll. Lord Corin Silvertor is the leading candidate for the seat-which is well, for among his rivals are those with dark ambitions. They see the Circle as a means to rule over all the city's nobility, and as a position from which to launch an all-out assault against the hidden Lords of Waterdeep." Darien's expression was grim. "Such strife would certainly tear this city asunder. But Silvertor is loyal to the Lords of Waterdeep. That is why it is crucial that he be found in time for the election. The fate of all Waterdeep depends on it."
Artek considered these words. "So if I go down into Undermountain and find this precious lord of yours, you'll give me my freedom. Is that the deal?"
"No, it is more than that," Darien countered. "I am authorized by the Magisters to grant you a full pardon for all your past crimes. It would be as if you were never a thief, Ar'talen." Darien's sharp green eyes bore into Artek's own. "All you must do is say yes."
Artek glared at the lord. Damn the smug bastard to the Abyss. What choice did he really have? It was exactly what he wanted-to have his dark past forgotten. There was only one thing he could say. He clenched his hands into fists and spat the word like a curse.
"Yes."
Darien leaned back, smiling toothily. "Excellent." He eyed Artek's gaunt frame critically. "But we must prepare you for your task. Imprisonment has left you ill fit for the rigors of this mission." He glanced at the red-robed wizard. "You may cast the spell now, Melthis."
Artek started to spring from his chair, but he was too slow. Melthis raised his hands and uttered a string of words in the weird tongue of magic. Searing pain arced through Artek's body, and he fell to the floor, writhing. His flesh felt on fire, as if his bones and muscles were being molded like hot wax. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pain ended. Gasping, he climbed to his feet. Something about the motion felt… strange.
Artek gazed down at himself, and his coal-black eyes went wide with shock. His ragged clothing had been reduced to a fine dusting of ash, but this paled in comparison to the change in his body. It was as if he had never spent those long months chained to the wall, wasting away in the dark. His skin was not pale and jaundiced, but a deep olive. No longer was he a half-starved skeleton. Now, thick muscles knotted his compact frame. He flexed his hands, staring at the fingers. Moments ago they had been