Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [62]
Corin had always felt his meeting Lhasha had been pre-ordained. He sensed some greater force had brought them together. Lhasha had saved him, delivered him from his torment. She had dragged him out from beneath his burden, healed his spirit, and restored his honor and sense of purpose. He refused to believe it had all been mindless chance and random circumstance.
At first, Corin felt the gods had seen fit to bring them together to give him a second chance, a long overdue reward for the pilgrimages and contributions to Lathander's Church on Temple Hill. Now he understood the real reason behind their meeting. Inadvertently, Lhasha had brought Fhazail back into Corin's life. The gods had sent her as a courier, she had brought him a chance for revenge!
Or so he hoped. There was no real reason to believe Fhazail was working for the Dragon Cult, but Corin's instincts said it had to be. How else could Fhazail know about the mysterious package? Duplicity was a fundamental aspect of the steward's character and Corin was certain Fhazail would be trying to betray the cult as he'd betrayed the White Shields. The warrior could not even begin to fathom what treachery Fhazail plotted against the dragon worshipers, and he didn't care. He only cared about slicing open the steward's rolling belly.
So he went to the cult warehouse, and waited. Corin's only link to the man who had taken away everything he valued, his instincts had lead him there in pursuit of his prey, and he trusted his instincts.
If he was right, his vengeance was close at hand. Corin had watched a small army disappear into the warehouse over the past few hours, soon they would all come out. He needed to be ready. He might only get one chance to strike before the cultists took him down.
He shook his head, trying to gather his hatred into a lethal, focused rage. Despite his bitterness and anger about what Fhazail had done, Corin's mind kept returning to his fight with Lhasha.
His words had hurt her. They betrayed her trust in him. He had lied to her, and in his duplicity he saw something of Fhazail. The resemblance sickened him, but he had no other choice. Corin lusted after nothing but vengeance and he would willingly surrender his life to get it. But he wouldn't sacrifice Lhasha, he couldn't ask her to accept the risks of a suicide mission. Driving her away was the right decision-this mission was his and his alone. His brothers in arms deserved no less than to have their deaths avenged.
Despite his conviction, he could find no peace. A small voice inside his head-Lhasha's voice-urged him to give up his quest for retribution.
This hate is of your old life," it whispered, "let it go. A new beginning awaits. Come with me to Cormyr and we can both be reborn."
Other voices answered, those of his fallen comrades. "You are a warrior!"
"You are a White Shield!"
"Remember the fallen!"
"The traitor must die!" The voice of their captain rose up from the anguished din. "Avenge our deaths!" Igland commanded. "In the name of the White Shields, Fhazail must pay!"
Loudest of all was Fhazail's own voice, reverberating through Corin's skull. "The White Shields were betrayed by one of their own!" it shrieked, just as Fhazail himself had done from the witness box at the inquest as he pointed the finger of blame and hurled accusations. "Corin One-Hand cannot be trusted!"
"Corin One-Hand is waiting for you, Fhazail," the warrior whispered to the night. "You can trust in that." Mercifully, the voices fell silent.
An hour later the cultists began to emerge. First came several runners, hurrying on ahead to scout a clear path through the all but deserted Elversult streets.