Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [70]
A faint roar drew them upstream, the sound growing louder and louder until they rounded a rocky bend to find a true place of legend before them. The roar of the falling water was deafening, yet it appeared as gentle as the mist that softly drifted down from the rocks high above, and the high grassy plateau surrounding it. They all stopped, stunned at the sight of this waterfall. Even Leng stood agape. He merely stared into the rushing waters, the gentle spray misting his strangely calm features.
"The first of the Sisters," said Royce. The Sisters, a set of waterfalls along the Unicorn Run's upper reaches, were famed for their beauty and natural majesty. For once, the legends did not lie.
"I thought no sight could displace Highstar Lake as the most beautiful my eyes have seen," Gunton said, gripping his bearded chin. "The alchemist Amanitus wrote…"
"Quiet, fool," shouted Leng. The calm on his face vanished as he spun to face the trees that lined the banks. With a quick incantation, a pair of black, disfigured hands appeared in the air before him, disembodied and sharp-clawed, and in a flash they flew out into the green wilds. When they returned, they were clamped around the slender arms of a naked woman with greenish hair. She resisted wildly with flailing limbs, her eyes wide in terror. The claws released the dryad at Leng's feet, dropping her flat on her face. Leng drew the flail from his waist and brought it down with all his force onto the dryad's head with a stomach-turning crack.
The Antiquarians winced. The wreck of the dryad's body shriveled before their eyes and lay motionless.
"Was that necessary?" demanded Royce. "Obviously, they know we're here."
"I prefer my women without skin the texture of bark," Leng hissed, his eyes alighting on Ardeth.
"What threat is this place to you?" Royce pressed, determined to speak, though it might mean his death. "Is it a threat to Llorkh, or the Zhentarim, or to the church of Cyric? You want to destroy this because it is beautiful, or simply because it offends you?"
The twin claws flew over to hover at Royce's neck.
"Isn't it reason enough," began the priest. "To accomplish what even Fzoul would never dare?" He turned to face the waterfall again, and dipped into a pocket deep in his robes. He produced a small crystal vial filled with viscous liquid. He tossed it in the direction of the waterfall and with its own speed it flew, vanishing into the waters.
"It is said no force can pollute the Unicorn Run," said Gunton.
The claws vanished as Leng folded his arms over his chest. "We shall see. Now you shall see what I made of that unicorn's horn."
Before their eyes, the crystalline purity of the waters became specked with spots of brown that coursed around the bend like a patch of filth, spreading its disease downstream. A fetid cesspool stink filled the air. Nithinial bent over and retched on the rocky shore.
Leng chuckled at this. "Your elf blood is showing, cur," he said.
A churning brown-green sludge manifested at the foot of the waterfall, its oily menace spreading across the river. What this substance was, none of them knew, but it bubbled and crawled on the surface of the Unicorn Run like a sheet of pain. Dead fish floated to the surface, their flesh rotting away on their bones.
"I hope this pleases you, Leng," Ardeth said. "You've taken a place famous for its beauty and serenity, and you've remade it in your own image."
Leng spun back to cast her an acid glare, but as he did so, the slime parted on the river like a curtain. Fresh water bubbled up, neutralizing the black putrescence. The thick bog of sludge weakened, and soon patches of blue broke through the inky ooze, then whole streams of clear water.
The Antiquarians breathed sighs of relief.
"Are you satisfied now?" Ardeth asked. "It seems, sometimes, the legends speak true."
Leng snorted, his pale skin flushed red, and his muscles tensed. He swung his flail down on the dead