Under Fallen Stars (13 page)

He was tall and big-bellied, possibly the most massive surface dweller Laaqueel had ever seen. He looked even more so because of the way he was hunched over in the tunnel. Unruly red hair sprouted out from the sides of his head but nothing grew on top. He kept his beard shaved from his cheeks and upper lip, but it grew long and thick from his chin, hanging midway down his chest. He wore a dark red cloak over a sleeveless leather vest, high-topped boots and dark brown breeches.

“Lord Iakhovas,” the big man rumbled.

“Captain Vurgrom,” Iakhovas greeted, moving closer. Laaqueel was aware of the shimmer that took place around Iakhovas and guessed that he was altering his image again to fit the other man’s perceptions.

“Quite a party you’re throwing up above,” Vurgrom said.

Laaqueel studied the man further, taking in the gruff manner and the tattoos that decorated his thick, beefy forearms. She knew from the cut of his clothing and the boots that he was a seafarer, and she guessed from his presence in the hidden tunnels that he wasn’t there for good reason. He reminded her a lot of the other pirates Iakhovas had recruited for the attack on Baldur’s Gate.

“I trust everything went well,” Iakhovas said.

Vurgrom shrugged, the casual gesture made even harder by the tight confines of the tunnel. “I never cared much for river travel. Give me the openness of the Sea of Fallen Stars every time. The overland trip from Ilipur is not something I’m looking forward to repeating.”

“You have the device I asked you to get?” Iakhovas asked.

“Aye.” Vurgrom reached under his vest and took off a silver necklace that held a leather pouch. “Kept it close to my heart for safekeeping.” He took the pouch from the necklace and dropped it into Iakhovas’s outstretched palm.

“What of the man who had it?” Iakhovas asked.

“I did for him,” Vurgrom said. “Split him from wind to water and left him like a grand buffet for the fishes to feast on. They’ll not find him.”

Iakhovas poured the contents out into his palm. The light of the hovering jade globe revealed a twisted metal piece no longer than Iakhovas’s forefinger and less than half that wide. He closed his fist around it, covering the runic markings before Laaqueel had a chance to see if she could decipher them. “Very good, Captain Vurgrom.”

“I lived up to my end of the bargain,” Vurgrom said. His piggish eyes were surrounded by thick scar tissue, and the reflected light in them gleamed shrewdly.

“As I shall live up to mine.” Iakhovas put the trinket away in his cloak, then removed a heavy coin purse and tossed it to the captain.

Vurgrom caught the purse with an ease that was surprising for one so bulky. He unfastened the drawstrings and emptied it onto his thick palm.

The glowing globe heightened its illumination a bit more, but the change was so gradual Laaqueel didn’t think human eyes would notice as quickly as she did. Sahuagin eyes were meant for dim lights, though hers handled bright light better than her kin’s did.

Red, green, blue, and amber fires burned inside the gems Vurgrom held. “Cyric’s blessed avarice,” the captain said in a thick voice, “that’s a king’s ransom there, Lord Iakhovas.”

“You may think so,” Iakhovas said, “but remember you well that even those baubles are but a pittance against what I’m prepared to offer you should you maintain your loyalty to me.”

A small man came around from behind Vurgrom and fitted a jeweler’s glass to his eye. He picked up a ruby, sapphire, diamond, and emerald in quick succession, eyeing them against the light of the glowing globe. He gave a short nod, never taking any of the gems from Vurgrom’s sight, then nodded again and stepped back.

Vurgrom closed his hand over the jewels and made them disappear, splitting them up and putting them in various areas of his clothing. “Aye, milord, and know that ever my blade shall serve your will in any way that I might aid you. Would there be any other way tonight?”

“No. Take your men and go,” Iakhovas directed. “Ill meet up with you in the Sea of Fallen Stars.”

Vurgrom smiled, but Laaqueel didn’t like the way the effort fit the man’s face. “I’ll look forward to seeing you there, milord. I and my crews have worked long and hard to put everything into play as you have designed. Until we meet again, Cyric keep you safe in his shadows that you might smite your enemies through no risk of your own.”

“And you,” Iakhovas echoed.

Laaqueel had no idea how Iakhovas had arranged for Vurgrom to see him, but she noted the obvious deferential treatment. After Vurgrom and his group had gone, she addressed him. “You’re planning on meeting him in the Sea of Fallen Stars?”

“Yes.” Iakhovas offered no explanation. He continued down the passageway they were in.

The thought bothered Laaqueel. Though she knew of the Sea of Fallen Stars from talks she’d had with surface dwellers and maps she’d studied, the idea of being in a sea surrounded entirely by land was unnerving to her. She didn’t know whether she hoped Iakhovas left her behind or not.

“Ah, little malenti, for someone who evidences her faith so strongly, there remains much weakness within you,” Iakhovas taunted. “You shall accompany me to the Inner Sea, and there you will see the culmination of all the prophecies that you’re helping come true.”

There was just enough truth in his words to ease her mind somewhat, but the knowledge that Iakhovas looked after himself first and only never left her thoughts.

They followed the passageway a little farther and found the end of it. However, when the globe got close enough, it revealed a break in the wall on the right. Iakhovas stepped through without hesitation.

Laaqueel followed closely, reluctant to lose the light. The smell that hit her when she stepped through the opening immediately told her they were in a sewer. She remembered when she’d first learned of such things, having never thought of surface dwellers living out their two-dimensional lives and such bodily functions being any kind of trouble. She’d been further disturbed and horrified to learn that most of the coastal cities and towns poured their waste directly into the ocean.

She avoided the running water in the center of the duct and was grateful she was sucking air through her lungs instead of water because the stench would have been even stronger. The glowing globe caught the attention of the long-bodied rats creeping through the duct and placed jade fires in their eyes.

Only a little farther on, Iakhovas stopped again. He gazed at the wall to his left.

With some effort, Laaqueel spotted the rune marked there. It wasn’t a glyph with any power, but it marked an area of some importance. Iakhovas stepped off a measured distance, then stomped his foot down, creating a hollow thump. Moving quickly, he reached down and seized the slab of stone. With a show of incredible strength, he lifted the man-sized slab and shoved it to the side. The glowing globe obediently moved, providing illumination that looked down into the opening.

Stepping around him, her nose wrinkling in disgust from the bitter stench that erupted from the opening, Laaqueel peered down into it. Fully six feet or more down, the jade light reflected against a white powder floor and walls.

“A lime pit,” Iakhovas explained. “It took me some time to find out the things I needed to know that brought us here, but I did. In the doing of it, I learned of this pit. A man named Nantrin Bellowglyn owns the Three Old Kegs, an inn nearby, and he prospers by renting out this as well. Lime breaks a corpse down faster than anything expect carrion eaters.” He chanted briefly, his voice carrying power.

A moment passed, and when he finished, he gazed into the lime pit. Laaqueel watched as well, wondering what magery he’d wrought. A low, pain-filled groan escaped from the lime pit. Then, incredibly, the malenti priestess watched as a sticklike figure pushed itself up from the white powder around it.

Skeletal, half-formed bones constructing the basic framework of a human being pushed through the lime powder body. The thing glared up at Iakhovas through the hollows of the half-dissolved skull that sat on the bony neck. The thing’s voice when it spoke was a mixture of hoarse, raspy anger and disgust.

“What do you want of me?” the thing demanded.

VII

Jherek braced himself as Khlinat drove the wagon team into the irregular line of sahuagin blocking the mouth of the alley that let out into Baldur’s Gate harbor. They’d passed most of them already, but the sea devils had taken refuge up against the buildings on either side of the alley, fighting hand-to-hand with citizens predominantly dressed in the Flaming Fist’s colors.

The sahuagin group at the end of the alley was wedged too tightly to scatter, and Jherek knew if the dwarf slowed they’d be overrun in heartbeats. The young sailor blocked trident thrusts with his hook and hacked at heads and limbs that got close enough. He’d left at least four sahuagin lying behind the wagon.

The dwarf squalled in anger as a sahuagin grabbed hold of the wagon and tried to pull aboard. Sonshal’s arquebus banged as Jherek went to Khlinat’s aid. The big bullet cored through the sahuagin’s head, punching it back off the wagon.

The horses kept to their pace, urged on by the dwarf slapping leather across their rumps. Their headlong run pushed the sea devils down before them, and their iron-shod hooves dealt grievous and mortal injury. The sahuagin clicked and whistled in pain and surprise, but two of them reacted quickly enough to catch hold of the animals. They popped their claws out and set to their bloody work.

“Swabbie!” Khlinat yelled.

Jherek was already in motion. With surefooted grace, he stepped out onto the horse’s back like it was a deck pitching in a wild storm. He kept himself centered, then dropped onto the horse’s back and locked his legs with the skill he’d acquired riding up from Athkatla with the caravan. He swung the sword, coming down and cleaving the sahuagin from crown to chin.

The body twitched and fell away, but the moonlight glinted on the blood streaming from the horse’s neck. Jherek realized the animal was dead already and didn’t know it. There was no way to staunch the blood flow.

The young sailor turned his attention to the other horse. He reached out with the hook and caught the sahuagin in the muscles that joined the head and shoulder, tearing the flesh cruelly as he found a hold. He yanked and twisted, pulling the sea devil from the horse. One webbed foot pushed against the ground, and the sahuagin sprang at the young sailor more quickly than he thought possible.

Reacting instinctively, Jherek whipped his other hand across and caught the sahuagin in the face with his fist. Pain shot up his arm, but the sea devil went down under the horses’ hooves.

They broke through the sea devils at the harbor. Khlinat whipped the horses one last time, hauling them away from the dock, and the carcass of a small cargo ship that had burned nearly to the waterline. The horse beneath Jherek stumbled and almost fell, but fear drove the creature over the harbor’s side.

The wagon followed, and Khlinat yelled hoarsely in rebellion and fear, covering over Sonshal’s own shouts.

Laaqueel stared at the resurrected dead thing in the lime pit with revulsion so strong it nearly caused her to empty her stomach again. She stood through willpower alone.

Dead things weren’t meant to walk. Sekolah’s teachings were clear about that. Dead things were meant to be eaten as quickly as possible, whether they were from outside the sahuagin family or from in it. She’d heard stories about the dead being brought back to unlife, about vampires and ghouls, and she’d once been attacked by a group of drowned ones while scavenging shipwrecks with a band of humans she’d spied on and eventually handed over to Huaanton when he’d still been baron.

Iakhovas glared at her and gestured.

Instantly, the quill next to her heart twisted and the nausea went away. At least, the physical effects of it did, leaving her stomach resting quietly. Mentally, she still couldn’t stand the sight of the thing waiting quietly in the pit. Surface dwelling priests and priestesses had the ability to turn the undead, as did the hated sea elves, but as a priestess for Sekolah, she had no such ability. The drowned ones had nearly killed her before one of the humans she’d been working with turned them back.

“I would have something from you,” Iakhovas told the thing.

“I have nothing.”

“It was yours at one time,” Iakhovas argued. “I was told it still resided with your body.”

The thing ran its misshapen hands over its body. “I was killed and robbed. I don’t even remember being brought here.”

“Your name,” Iakhovas said, “was Cuthbert Drin and you were brother to Halbazzer Drin, the owner of Sorcerous Sundries here in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’m in Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes.”

The dead thing moved uncertainly. Its face took on features as the rest of it sharpened into shape as well. Laaqueel realized whatever magic Iakhovas had laid on it was continuing to work.

“Release me,” the thing ordered, knotting its crooked fingers and hands into fists. “This hurts.”

“No,” Iakhovas said.

“The time bij-rns!” The dead thing suddenly broke into a frenzy of activity, pacing and scratching itself. In places, the fingers penetrated the lime-covered skin. Tendrils of old blood wormed out, marring the white luster of the lime in the glowing globe’s glare.

“Of course it burns,” Iakhovas said. “It’s a struggle to keep you alive at all.”

“You can’t keep me like this.”

“Yes,” Iakhovas said. “I can.”

The dead thing moved faster, almost up to a run in the small area. It clawed at the walls of the pit, seeking some way to get out. “What do you want?”

“The ship you had with you on the day you were killed,” Iakhovas answered. “It’s mine, and I’ve come to claim it.”

“It was taken,” the dead thing argued.

“No,” Iakhovas replied. “I traced your steps, Cuthbert Drin, through the ordinary means of agents planted here at Baldur’s Gate, and through scrying and divining into the past. After I had the facts, I found the moment in time you discovered the bottle high in the Orsraun Mountains near the Vilhon Reach. You and your brother, Halbazzer, found mention of the bottled ship in scrolls that came into your hands at the shop. Even twenty years ago, his rigorous adventuring days were behind him, robbed by the poisoned knife of an assassin hired to kill him. The damage was so great he never fully recovered from the attack. You had the bottled ship the day you died, and your murderers didn’t find it.”