Shal removed the chain from Tarl’s hand and looped it loosely around her neck. “Thank you, Tarl,” she said softly.
“C’mon, you two,” urged Ren. “If we’re not prepared for the worst now, we never will be.” Ren’s eyes scanned the docks, searching for a boat for hire. He didn’t expect to find anyone who would take them to Thorn Island. If they knew the destination, there might be precious few who’d be willing to even let them rent a boat. In fact, Ren fully expected that they might have to buy a boat outright.
Ten inquiries and an hour later, Ren finally found a crusty old boatman willing to part with a decrepit rowboat. “You’ll get your five silvers deposit returned when I get my boat back,” he cackled. The gnarly old man threw his head back and laughed hard. “But I won’t expect to be seein’ it ag’in till I get to the Abyss!” he called, laughing even harder.
As they started toward the boat to load their gear, a trumpet sounded behind them. They turned to see the trumpeter and a town crier, awaiting the approach of Porphyrys Cadorna on a speckled horse with a great feather plume attached to its bridle.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” the crier called loudly. “All stand and await the approach of the honorable Porphyrys Cadorna, Tenth Councilman of the City of Phlan.” The herald stood at attention while vendors, shoppers, and boatsmen milled about curiously.
Cadorna reined his mount to a stop immediately in front of Shal, Ren, and Tarl. He waved his hand over the three and let out a low whistle. The big innkeep, in particular, looked striking in his fitted armor, and together the three looked formidable. “I am impressed indeed,” said Cadorna, casting his eyes over the group. “Perhaps, unlike your unfortunate predecessors, you will be the first group worthy of the council’s trust. You are charged, as was explained to you last evening, with the task of discovering the secret surrounding the darkness that makes Sokol Keep and Thorn Island uninhabitable.”
Ren stifled a caustic reply. He knew that “worthy of the council’s trust” could be translated “who might come back alive,” but there was nothing to be gained by challenging the man. At least they weren’t being tossed over the wall of the city at night, which was widely rumored to be the fate of some criminals. “I don’t suppose you’d care to foot the bill for the boat, would you, Your Honor?”
“If you bring it back, I’ll buy it from you … for an excellent price,” said Cadorna with a grin. “Which reminds me … it has come to my attention that the Lord of the Ruins himself has somehow gotten wind of your impending venture. I suspect he’ll send some of the rabble from beyond the wall to harass you—orcs, goblins, kobolds perhaps. Surely nothing the three of you can’t handle.”
“The Lord of the Ruins?” Shal asked, wondering if her companions knew whom Cadorna was referring to.
Ren started to reply, but Cadorna quickly cut him off. “The hordes of monsters that plague our fair city are obviously controlled by someone or something, or they surely would have killed each other by now. Occasionally hobgoblins, orcs, or other humanoids we capture make mention of their leader, the ‘Lord of the Ruins.’ From all accounts, his power is awesome. Naturally he fights every effort of the council to regain sections of Old Phlan.”
Cadorna paused, as if expecting some sort of response. When there was none, he plunged ahead. “Of course, I’m sure the Lord of the Ruins would have no way of anticipating a party of three such as yourselves.”
“Thank you, Councilman,” said Shal, comforted by his apparent confidence in them. “However, what we’ve heard of Sokol Keep”—she pointed to the island—“and what we’ve seen are hardly encouraging.”
Cadorna’s face formed its most sincerely sympathetic expression. “I’d be lying if I told you there was nothing to fear on Thorn Island. In the months since I’ve sat on the council, four parties have undertaken this mission, and none has … ah … been successful. But I sincerely believe that your chances for success are greater than those of the parties who have preceded you. I am, of course, here to see that you fulfill your sentence, but I am also here to wish you a safe and fruitful mission.”
Shal and Tarl bowed in the manner customary when taking leave of an official. Ren simply turned on his heels, stepped down into the boat, and snugged it up close to the mooring so the other two could board more easily.
Cadorna remained to watch as they rowed out into the bay. They just might be the ones I’ve been waiting for, he thought. I’ve waited too long for the chance to recover the dignity and position of the Cadorna family … and the fortune that is rightfully mine. If they succeed, it’ll be an ideal situation. They’ll receive a reward and recognition from the council. Phlan will prosper because shipping will increase greatly. I’ll be rewarded and will gain power within the council. And the Lord of the Ruins will be grateful because I tried to warn him! Cadorna shuddered at the indignities he had to bear to communicate with the Lord of the Ruins—sending messages through slime-bellied hobgoblins—but he grinned from ear to ear when he thought of the rewards. In exchange for passing on the simple message that a small, ill-matched party of three was headed for Sokol Keep on a reclamation mission, a highly promising meeting had been arranged between Cadorna and a certain sensual, doe-eyed woman, who just happened to be the daughter of the head councilman from Thentia. Still, Cadorna couldn’t wait for the day when the Lord of the Ruins would be forced to send messengers to him, instead of the other way around.
Shal was watching Ren row when they entered the dark veil that shadowed the island. She immediately felt her breath constrict, almost as if someone had pushed hard against her lungs. She thought at first that it could be her own fear finally getting the best of her, but a glance at the others told her that they felt it, too.
Tarl leaned forward in the boat and held up his holy symbol. “Bless me with the strength of your faith, Tyr. Grant us power over the darkness that reigns over this place.”
Whether coincidence or not, Shal immediately felt a loosening of her breathing. “Your god serves you well, friend.”
“I just hope that’s a sign that you’re the right man to have along on this trip,” said Ren, taking a deep breath.
Tarl didn’t respond. His prayer had been a reaction to his own terror. The pressure on his lungs had been a vivid reminder of the powerlessness he had felt that day in the graveyard. The undead seemed to have the power to suck a person’s very life energies, making breathing, even the beating of the heart, things that couldn’t be taken for granted. Tarl couldn’t help feeling contempt for himself for not being able to help Anton or his other brothers when they needed him. He spoke once more, silently this time, to his god. My prayer was born out of fear for myself, but you responded nonetheless. Let this day enhance my faith and add a measure to my experience so I can better serve you and return to you and your servants what is rightfully yours.
Tarl lifted his head and pointed. “Over there, Ren. There’s a break in the rocks.”
“Not much of an opening,” said Shal, eyeing the small opening to which Tarl was pointing. “Are you sure you can get through there, Ren?”
“I’m about as handy in a boat as either of you are, which isn’t saying much,” Ren replied. “But I’ll jump out and pull the boat to shore if I have to.”
Shal laughed nervously. Ever since breakfast this morning, she had been stealing glances at Ren when she didn’t think he was looking. She hadn’t missed the fact that his ruddy complexion had grown paler as they drew closer to their destination. “I’d use a Navigation spell if I only had one,” she said. “But since I don’t, you’d better pull on those oars if you don’t want us to smash into those rocks.”