Part 7 (1/2)
”You ungrateful wretch,” the master vampire growled through blood-stained teeth. ”One day of rest and I'll heal. Then I'll get another elf-maybe that little wench you're so fond of.”
Not Rhynn. Never Rhynn. Jander would never permit another one of the People to be corrupted by Ca.s.siar. His rage channeled the strength for one last attack, but Ca.s.siar outweighed him. Laughing, the vampire lord opened his mouth, and his fangs drew nearer.
Abruptly Ca.s.siar jerked upward, snarling. He spun around, clawing blindly at his shoulder. Jander could see that someone had fired an arrow at the vampire lord, but he didn't bother to seek out his would-be savior. Instead, he grabbed a stake and shoved it into Ca.s.siar's breast.
Driven by Jander's hatred and his vampiric strength, the wooden weapon all but disappeared in the sudden redness that was the vampire lord's chest. Ca.s.siar clawed ineffectually at Jander's face, then collapsed on top of the elf. Jander scrambled free, then looked up to see who his unexpected ally might be.
He wasn't really surprised to find a beautiful young woman wearing night-black leather armor leaning against the closed front door. Rhynn clutched her spent bow, but did not meet his eyes. She was staring over Jander's shoulder, her lip curled in a grimace of disgust. The elf followed her gaze.
Ca.s.siar's body was beginning to decay with astonis.h.i.+ng speed. The two elves watched in horrified fascination. The corpse rotted, then dried, then even the bones crumbled into fine dust.
Jander looked up at Rhynn. ”The Riders?”
”Outside. With Theorn dead, I'm in charge.” She hesitated, then continued. ”I told them to wait.”
Jander was puzzled, but did not press the point. Weakly he pointed toward the one remaining makes.h.i.+ft stake. He'd made five stakes; five stakes for five vampires.
”Finish it.”
Rhynn shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his pale face. ”You saved lives tonight. You've earned another chance.”
He laughed harshly. ”At what? What's left for me?”
”Evermeet.”
”Don't mock me, Rhynn, not now.”
”I'm not. You're free from him, Jander. You can travel anywhere you want now,” she said, speaking with increasing urgency. She moved closer to him, hesitated, then stroked his cheek. ”Maybe you can find someone who can cure you.”
He smiled weakly, without humor. ”Cure a vampire?”
”You haven't looked, so you don't know. Anyway, you don't deserve to die like they did.” After a pause, she said, ”You're hungry, so you'll need this.” Rhynn rose, went unsteadily toward the door, and returned carrying a pail half full of deep wine-red fluid.
Jander shook his head. ”I won't drink human blood.”
”It's not. It's from-” her voice caught a little ”-from my mare.”
The elf's eyes widened. Now he saw her reddened eyes, the tracks of tears down her flushed cheeks. ”You're a Rider and you-”
”When a mount grows old, it's the Rider's duty to kill it.
Moonmaid's time was here. One more day, maybe two, and I'd have had to ...” She fixed Jander's silver eyes with her own. ”Take it. Heal. Travel through the world and then back home to Evermeet. Fair's fair, Jander. You saved my life. Let me return the favor.” She held out the pail and smiled weakly. ”This time, the drink's on me.”
The elven vampire hesitated. Only an elf could have understood how precious a place Evermeet was. Rhynn had seen past the monster to the elven part of him, had slain her beloved Moonmaid to help him return to what he had been. Was there really & chance for one as bloodied as he? Might there truly be, somewhere in the world, a wise man or woman who knew how to cure vampirism?
Slowly Jander sat up. Rhynn's strong arms reached to steady him as he carefully stretched out a hand for a discarded goblet.
”What is the year?” he asked suddenly. When Rhynn frowned at the curious question, he explained with a smile, ”I forget, you know. It's been so long___”
”As we reckon the year here in the Dales, eight hundred and ninety-two,” Rhynn replied gently.
”Eight hundred and ninety-two,” Jander repeated. ”The year of my freedom.” He nodded slightly. ”One last drink.” Then the cursed elf dipped the goblet into the bucket, saluted his friend, and raised the liquid to his lips.
The Bargain
Elaine Cunningham
The one thing Arilyn Moonblade hated above all else was being followed.
”But how do you know someone's trailing you?” demanded Arilyn's companion, a nattily attired n.o.bleman who picked his way delicately along the littered docks of Port Kir ”If you haven't actually seen or heard anything suspicious, how can you be so sure?”
With a frustrated sigh, Arilyn tucked a handful of her dark curls behind one pointed ear How could she explain to Danilo Thann something that, to her, was both art and instinct? She just knew. There was a silent rhythm to stalking, a rhythm known only to the best hunters and rangers- and a.s.sa.s.sins.
”A wizard can sniff out magic,” she said slowly, absently waving away an overeager merchant attempting to spray her with jasmine perfume ”And I believe a paladin can often sense when evil is near.”
”Ah.” Danilo's gray eyes warmed with understanding as he studied the distracted half-elf at his side. ”I take it that patience, for lack of a better word, has an aura of its own.”
Arilyn smiled without humor. ”Something like that.”
”Has this been going on long?”
She shrugged. ”Since Imnescar.”
”Since-” The n.o.bleman broke off abruptly, then let out a long hiss of exasperation. ”Arilyn, my dear, someone's been stalking us through two kingdoms, and you don't see fit to mention it? Never came up in conversation, is that it?”
”This is the first time we've been alone,” Arilyn said, a trifle defensively.
Danilo glanced pointedly around the teeming marketplace. Beyond the docks the Sea of Swords gleamed silver in the waning light, the horizon touched with the last faint pink of sunset. Most of the merchants were busily folding their bright silk tents and rolling up the mats that had displayed pottery, crafts, and exotic produce. The crowds had not diminished, but evening shoppers generally had goods of a different nature in mind.
”We're alone, you say? How odd,” Danilo mused. ”I've often been alone with beautiful women, and things were never quite so hectic and noisy. Not initially, at any rate.”
”You know what I mean,” the half-elf said curtly. For many days, she'd had little opportunity to speak to Danilo in private. They'd arranged to travel with a merchant caravan en route from the northern trade city of Waterdeep to Calimport, its counterpart in the South. Merchants were the only northerners welcome in parts of Tethyr, and, swept along on the tide of commerce, Arilyn and Danilo had moved unquestioned through the southern lands. Today they were to begin their true mission.
Arilyn and Danilo had been sent by the Harpers-the self-appointed guardians of freedom and justice in Faerun- to bring a warning to Tethyr's ruling pasha. This was not an easy task, for Pasha Balik wanted nothing to do with ”meddling northern barbarians.” Repeatedly he'd refused Harper messengers or missives, and attempts to gain the ear of someone in his inner circle had also proved futile. Danilo had been charged with finding or creating a back door into the pasha's court; Arilyn's task was to keep the young n.o.bleman alive during the process. Knowing Danilo as she did, Arilyn felt that her mission was sufficiently challenging without the added aggravation of an extra shadow.
Despite the new problems he or she presented, the half-elf had developed a certain grudging respect for her pursuer. Granted, tracking a merchant caravan along the major north-south trade road was no test of skill. Avoiding detection for so long was another matter. No other member of the company had realized they were being stalked, not even the powerful Harper mage at her side.
Arilyn cast a sidelong glance at Danilo, who was idly whistling the melody of an off-color ballad. Few who knew the young man might guess that he was either Harper or wizard. Danilo Thann was known as a dandy, an amateur mage whose spells comically misfired, a foppish dilettante with amusing pretensions toward bardhood. His self-satisfied smirk and extravagant attire bespoke wealth, ease, and privilege. In truth, Danilo cultivated that image. Prominently displayed on the amethyst silk of his jacket was the crest of a n.o.ble merchant family of the Northlands. His billowing trousers were tucked into impractical suede boots, and the voluminous sleeves of his silk s.h.i.+rt were embroidered with tiny runes in gold and violet threads. The n.o.bleman's garments were loose and flowing, cut to mask his lean, powerful build, just as the sparkle of jewels on his sword's hilt distracted the eye from its keen and well-used edge. Danilo's facade made him an effective Harper agent, but it annoyed the Nine h.e.l.ls out of Arilyn.
”It's getting late,” she said abruptly. ”Let's find a quiet place to plan our next move. Some food wouldn't hurt, either.”
The n.o.bleman's face lit up at the suggestion. ”I know the very spot. Local color, and all that.” He took Arilyn's arm and led her down a maze of alleys to a low wooden building that possessed all the charm of an abandoned warehouse.
”Local color, just as promised,” Danilo said with enthusiasm as he swung open the door. He removed his plumed hat and tucked it under one arm, then patted his blond hair carefully into place as he beamed down at her. ”Isn't this splendid?”
”This” was a tavern of sorts, a vast sprawling taproom that was anything but splendid. If the room were thoroughly swept and aired, it might qualify as squalid, Arilyn noted with distaste. The taproom was crowded with tables and booths, most of them filled. It was a local haunt, judging from the swarthy faces and the distinctive blue-purple robes of Tethyr's natives. The crowd comprised men of all ages and social cla.s.ses. Only men, Arilyn noted, though a row of doors lining the north wall of the taproom suggested that women were not entirely absent from the establishment.