Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [68]
The couple walked arm in arm to their tower to prepare once again for war.
An hour later, Tarl and his party stood before the Death Gates, ready to leave. The cleric scowled at the truce flags his men carried.
Above the cavern that held Phlan hostage, high in the vermilion-stoned tower, the Red Wizard seethed.
"Truce flags? They can't surrender! I just finished lining up all the forest creatures sent by that fiendish god Moander. If Phlan surrenders, I can't pull down the walls," Marcus raved. "Tell them to go back to their pathetic city and suffer my wrath for resisting!" Red robes swirled as the fuming mage paced his chamber.
The mercenary commander who brought the message had turned to leave when a commanding voice shouted, "Stop! Latenat!"
"Fiend, don't hinder me now! Keep to your room and I will handle the war down below," Marcus said, conversing with the air around him.
The mercenary hadn't moved, but was silently confirming his opinion that no amount of gold was worth this job.
"Marcus," the voice continued calmly, "we are ordered to deliver as many souls as possible from Phlan into the pool of darkness. Do you suppose when you use the trees of Moander, the very trees of death I gave you, that a few of those souls might be lost in the battle? Latenat!"
"Yes, a few of the rabble can be expected to perish. On the other hand, after the dust clears, Phlan will be defeated, which accomplishes my personal goals. That's what's really important, after all."
The throne room suddenly became filled with the smell of blood. The now-terrified mercenary observed a distinct dimming of the lights in the chamber. A chill ran up his spine.
"Maaar-cus," the voice became honey-sweet. "Would you please dismiss your commander? Latenat!"
"Yes, of course." The Red Wizard of Thay waved the mercenary away. "I will get back to you momentarily with my decisions. Leave me now."
The warrior of Bane departed in relief. He noticed a dark object growing in the wizard's hand, but didn't want to be around long enough to learn what it was.
In the red-gold throne room, the pit fiend appeared, accompanied by a loud thunderclap.
"Master, do you still wish to become a demigod on this plane? Latenat!"
"Of course, fool. I haven't gone to all this effort to have my plans upset."
"Knowing this is your will, how can you expect me to make you all-powerful? You have left me only the souls of a washer woman and a baker boy to absorb through the pool! Latenat!"
"What do you mean, fiend? Make your thoughts known, I order you!" Marcus held the black heart out for the fiend to see and covet.
The pit fiend ignored the implied threat and stomped his twelve-foot body up to the throne of the wizard. The monster glared into his eyes.
"The more people you kill, the fewer souls remain for our purposes. Do you think you could use that famous cunning Red Wizards are known for and trick these people? Let them believe they can leave the city, according to their free will. Entice the populace into the pool of darkness. Latenat!"
Green drool splashed from the fiend's fangs and splattered on the red-gold floor of the throne room. The sticky, acidic poison hissed and sparked red. This time, however, the acid left no trace.
Marcus smiled. He had grown disgusted with the condition of the floor of his spellcasting chamber and had silently vowed that such oozing pockmarks wouldn't mar his throne room any longer. With some effort, he had devised a spell to protect the floor from all types of slimes. The Red Wizard, pleased with his game, gave the fiend a wide grin, thinking, It's the little victories that really count, after all.
Marcus addressed his powerful servant. "Yes, I can trick this city of fools. But this game would be more fun if I could defeat Phlan with the armies