Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [121]
Evaine bolted to Gamaliel's side and knelt on the floor. She lifted his great head and cradled him in her lap. The cat whined faintly-he was badly wounded, but would survive. Ren had administered the healing potion in time to save the feline. Tears streamed down the wizard's face as she realized how close she had come to losing her beloved companion. All the magic in the world would not have brought him back.
Miltiades, still dripping with the murk of the pool, gently approached Shal. "Do not be frightened of me, miss," he began. "May a warrior of Tyr offer assistance?" He knelt and offered a bony hand.
Shal looked up, the agony in her face masking her shock at his skeletal appearance. "Tarl," she whispered hoarsely. "The baby. It's time."
As Miltiades relayed the message, Tarl helped Ren to his feet and the pair staggered to Shal's side. Evaine stuffed a cloak under the cat's head and joined the cleric.
Tarl held Shal's hand and helped her stretch out on the floor. Evaine immediately called orders to Miltiades to gather cloaks, blankets, and her traveling pack. Gamaliel mustered the strength to creep over to Shal and lie next to her to keep her warm.
Evaine took charge. "Okay, Shal. Relax, then clear your mind as if you're about to cast a powerful spell. Breathe deeply. The rest of you, keep quiet. She needs to concentrate. Tarl, kneel on the floor and let Shal lie against your lap." The others did as they were told without question.
"There's not much anyone can do at this point. Nature knows best in these matters. But stay near-just in case." Evaine tucked cloaks and blankets around Shal. "Damn! I don't like the idea of a baby coming into this world so close to that blasted pool. But I don't have time to cast the spells to destroy it!" The frustration was visible on her face.
"Maybe there's something I can do," Tarl offered. "Ren, hold Shal for a little while. I just need a moment." The cleric arose and strode over to the pit.
Tarl closed his eyes, communicating with his god. Without opening them, he swung the holy warhammer over his head, then flung it straight down into the foaming liquid. Not a drop sprayed up from the impact; instead, the hammer attracted the murk as it plunged downward.
The blue glow disappeared in the blackness. Tarl stood rooted, eyes closed, at the edge of the pit. Slowly, gradually, a pinpoint of blue broke the surface of the murk. The glow spread to the edges of the pool as the swirling inkiness boiled.
Tarl stood in the azure glow, deep in meditation, for several moments. Then the boiling and gurgling in the pit slowed. The cleric opened his eyes to see the liquid receding into the crescent pit. As he watched, the fetid soup sank lower and lower until the pool was drained. At the bottom, Tarl could make out a hole in the stone, shaped like the holy hammer. A low rumble from deep in the earth vibrated the tower.
"Praise to Tyr!" he shouted. Miltiades bowed his head and murmured a prayer of thanks.
Tarl hurried back to the others, sliding into position behind his wife. A blue glow again appeared in the pit, and the cleric raised his hand to seize the hammer. But instead of returning to Tarl, the hammer appeared in the hand of Miltiades.
"My time has come," he said serenely. "Tyr now summons me to his side. I have redeemed myself in his eyes. Now I will know eternal peace. Thanks to all of you who have been my friends and aided my quest. I will ask Tyr to favor you."
The paladin lifted his eyes to the ceiling. In a heartbeat, his bones and armor dissolved to dust. The glowing warhammer hovered in the air for a moment, then soared upward to punch through the ceilings and exit the tower. The structure rumbled.
The ghostly voice of Miltiades echoed