Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [92]
Ardeth sheathed her sword. Planting a foot on the dead man's head, she climbed up the side of the menhir with the grace of a squirrel. Standing at the top, she stared into the source of the red light: a glowing stone object the size of a fist, and vaguely resembling a human heart. It rested in a small indentation at the top of the menhir. Ardeth leaned closer, the light bathing her pale features in crimson. She could feel the energies pouring out of it, washing over her. Ancient magic. Magic from Netheril.
Smiling, she reached down, plucking the stone from its resting place. She heard an audible hiss as she removed it-how many centuries had it laid there, undisturbed? It felt warm in her hand.
The runes on the menhir beneath her ceased glowing.
Ardeth could see Gunton, Gan, and Royce looking toward her from the edge of the Sanctuary, afraid to step deeper into the marsh. The area was missing its behemoths, but Ardeth knew guardians must be near. The man she had slaughtered had said "we."
She would have to finish this quickly.
Ardeth held the stone high in the air within her hand, its light glowing through her pale fingers. She saw Gan raise the greataxe in response. With her other hand, she reached into her soaked leathers and pulled out a crossbow bolt she had held in reserve. Never taking her eyes off her three unfortunate companions, she gripped the bolt and drove it into her palm.
* * * * *
"No!" Royce screamed as he watched Ardeth vanish from atop the menhir, but he was not surprised. He paced for a moment, then took Ardeth's empty crossbow and smashed it against the rocks outside the Sanctuary's edge.
"What happened?" asked Gan.
"You should appreciate this," said Gunton. "She betrayed us."
"No," the hobgoblin said. "No, that can't be."
Human figures appeared all around the Sanctuary. Eight men and women, each of them old and black-haired, made their tentative way through the marsh, bound for the three outsiders. Each was dressed in white robes that became neither stained nor wet as they progressed through the muck.
"We are not without resources, even with the Heart of Runlatha stolen," the nearest of them said in a weak rasp that was somehow projected across the marsh. "You will not be allowed to escape."
Gunton watched them draw closer. "Do we run, or do we try to bargain with them?"
"She would not betray us," Gan said, bewildered.
"Wake up!" Royce shouted. "She has done nothing but betray us! All of our deaths are on her head. That Zhentarim bitch has left us here to die and teleported back to Llorkh with her treasure!"
Gunton raised his short spear, alternating nervous glances between the folk of the swamp and the hobgoblin. "Must we argue, while…"
"Why don't you kill me, Gan?" cried Royce. "Ardeth isn't here to stop you now!"
Gan flashed back to the Fallen Lands, when he had first found the axe. He knew that it was a leader's weapon from the moment he saw it, as surely as he knew that he was no leader. Neither was Dray, that stupid Lord's Man he slaughtered on the plain of dirt. It belonged with Geildarr.
Such a weapon! Though he didn't understand all of what Geildarr had told him about its origins, he understood enough to confirm what he had always felt. This was a hero's weapon. What a privilege to wield it on a hero's behalf!
Doing Geildarr's work, he boldly brought the axe down on Royce. Like Dray, he struck the warrior in the shoulder, and drove the axe downward until the head was embedded deep in his chest. In the last flicker of his companion's eyes, Gan saw not the anger he expected, but sadness.
What have I done? he asked himself.
The hobgoblin's hand went out to stroke Royce's face. Gan felt a pain in his own chest and looked down to see the point of Gunton's spear protruding from it, driven through from behind. He stumbled, turning about. The axe ripped free from Royce's body and fell from Gan's hands, landing with a splash in the marsh.