Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [109]
The bard tirelessly continued his stroll through Phlan, singing his tales of redemption. No one seemed to notice that the bard had been singing for over twenty-four hours without a break.
Little by little, the city walls were drained of warriors. Soon they were no longer defensible.
Finally, the glorious, wondrous bard signaled his flock. The masses began to move toward the Death Gates. The people sang and danced their way through the streets, charmed by the captivating man and bewitched by his songs.
The spellbound crowd called for the gates to be opened. The guards refused, but Latenat began another song. As his melody rose, the warriors forgot their objections. Puzzled, they looked at each other and at the gate machinery.
Then the minstrel's song was interrupted.
A voice rang out, ordering that the Death Gates remain closed. Booted feet pounded along the top of the wall, coming to a halt on the gate. Tarl, gripping the glowing Warhammer of Tyr, planted himself firmly at the head of the throng. He tried his best to appear calm, but his anger was evident.
A few feet behind him, waiting on the stone wall, stood Shal. She was wrapped head to toe in a purple cloak, but to anyone with magical abilities, it was obvious she was also wrapped in strong protective magics. Six other wizards moved along the wall beside her.
The bard ended his song, turning his back on Tarl and Shal. He raised his hands for silence, then addressed the crowd. "Noble people of Phlan, your famous champions are here to lead you and protect you on your way. Let us thank them for their bravery!" A deafening roar erupted as the mob cheered.
Behind Latenat's back, Shal cast a spell to learn something of this strange bard. The purple beams bathed the bard and bounced off his flesh, but revealed nothing of his true nature.
"Noble heroes, it is wonderful to have you join us in our bid for freedom and safety," the bard laughed. A magical suggestion was wrapped in his voice. But the spell had no effect on Tarl, Shal, or the other wizards.
"Noble bard, we haven't been introduced. My name is Tarl, and I represent the Council of Phlan. I would like to know why you've brought my people to this gate."
A hearty laugh arose from the bard, and his syrupy answer lilted up to the cleric.
"Tarl-brother-dear friend-I am the bard Latenat! I've been sent by the gods of fortune to release these people!" Once again, the bard turned away from Tarl and addressed the crowd surrounding him. "These wonderful people of Phlan must be freed from this dreadful cave and from the dangers they face. They must again walk in the sunlight and cultivate the earth the gods have given them!"
A roar again erupted in the streets, and the mob began chanting, "We are freed, we are freed, we are freed!"
Tarl bellowed to be heard over the noise. "I wish you to be free of danger, too! But leaving the walls of the city will not save you from the foes that have attacked us for months! You will march to certain death!"
"Shall I sing a song to answer Tarl?" the bard asked the crowd.
"A song-sing us a song!" the crowd called back.
The bard raised his lute and addressed Tarl.
"Noble and fearless stood a fine priest,
His city and people behind him,
They battled and fought but could not slay the beast,
So Tarl led the charge to a new land."
Latenat continued, verse after verse, about Tarl and his heroics. So persuasively did the bard sing that even Tarl began to wonder whether it wasn't indeed time for the people of Phlan to leave.
He looked longingly at the men who stood by to raise the gates. Shal knew it was time to step in.
"Tarl, dear husband! Hear my voice and no other!" She turned to the