Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [8]
Listle glared at her. "Come on, Kern, let's get out of here." The elf jerked his arm viciously. Kern and Tarl were practically dragged down the street by the sorceress's apprentice. "I don't think you'd want to give her the kind of 'help' she's looking for."
Kern heard the barmaid cackle behind him, but there was no mirth in the sound.
"Listen to your little friend, warrior!" the woman called after him. "You'd better hurry on to your precious temple. This part of town is no place for the pure of heart. Then again, no part of this town is anymore!"
The three hurried on. Tarl had fallen silent, a pained expression on his face. The city's degeneration wounded the cleric of Tyr deeply.
Finally the thick stone walls of the temple of Tyr hove into view. The massive temple was a welcome sight. It had been built several decades ago, the first step in an attempt to reclaim and civilize the monster-infested ruins that in those days was Phlan. As such, it was as much a citadel as temple. The high stone walls were dotted with arrow slits and topped by machicolations, openings located beneath the wall's crenelations through which hot pitch or other unpleasant substances could be rained down onto attackers. Behind the walls rose the bulk of the temple, a square, utilitarian building of dark stone topped by a single gleaming dome of bronze. Kern allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as he led the way toward the temple's gates.
Suddenly, four raggedly clad men stumbled out from a side alley. They were laughing coarsely, as if they had just shared a particularly bawdy joke. The men lurched directly in Kern's path. Their laughter vanished in a heartbeat, along with their drunken manner. All four were sober and quite well armed.
A big shaggy man with one eye leveled a rusted broadsword at Kern. "Give us all your gold, boy, and maybe you and your mates here will keep your heads."
Kern moved swiftly in front of Listle to protect her, hefting his battlehammer.
"Kern," the elf hissed in annoyance, "it's nice that you're such a gentleman, but I can't cast a spell if you're blocking my view."
"Looky here," sneered another of the robbers with a leer. "The puppy in the armor has a hammer. Maybe he wants us to use it to pound in some coffin nails."
Kern raised his weapon, inwardly calling upon Tyr for strength. Four to one were bad odds, but he had to do his best to protect Listle and Tarl.
Before Kern could act, Tarl stepped past him.
"Why don't you try me first, ruffian?" Tarl taunted in his booming voice. "Being blind, I can't imagine I'd be much of a challenge for you." Kern stared at his father in horror.
The leader of the cutthroats laughed. "Suit yourself, old man." The robber raised his rusty sword.
With astonishing swiftness, Tarl reached out and grabbed the robber's hand. Deftly, the blind cleric twisted the man's arm behind him. The sword clattered to the cobblestones. Tarl gave a quick jerk and was rewarded with a sharp snap. The robber screamed in agony and slumped to the street, cradling his broken arm. A fierce grin broke across Tarl's face.
"Next?" the white-haired cleric of Tyr inquired.
Apparently there was some confusion as to whose turn it was, for the remaining robbers collided with each other as they swiftly turned tail in order to flee.
"Hey, wait for me!" their leader cried out with anguish, scrambling to his feet to hurry after his confederates.
" 'Old man' indeed!" Tarl snorted, flexing his powerful shoulders. "I don't need eyes to deal with curs like that. My nose works well enough. I don't think that fellow has ever heard of the adage 'cleanliness is next to holiness.' "
Kern gazed at his father with pride. Sighted or not, Tarl was not a man to be trifled with.
They reached the temple's gates without further incident. Two fully armored clerics standing guard allowed them to pass, and they crossed a vast courtyard to the temple proper.
A dozen marble columns supported a facade which was carved with friezes depicting