"You miss her," Gamaliel said in his oddly matter-of-fact voice. "That is well."
"How so?" Daile found herself asking.
"It means that she was worth knowing."
Daile felt her heart strangely buoyed by Gamaliel's simple words. She smiled at him gratefully.
Abruptly the iron-banded door swung open, and Ren stepped through. He wasn't carrying any firewood, but Daile chose not to mention this obvious fact. "Be ready to leave at dawn," Ren told Gamaliel gruffly. "And Daile…"
She sighed. "I know, Father. I'll repair the chinks in the walls while you're away."
"Oh, really?" Ren stroked his beard with a mischievous expression. "Well, all right, Daile, if you really want to. Of course, I was hoping you'd come with me on this particular journey, but I do know how much you enjoy patching the walls with mud."
Daile's heart leaped. She couldn't believe her good fortune.
She let out a whoop of joy and sprang up to give her father a hug. "I love you!" she exclaimed, kissing his bearded cheek for emphasis.
Ren grinned at Gamaliel. "Sometimes having a daughter is almost worth the trouble."
"So it seems," the barbarian observed.
8
It was verging on dusk when Kern and Listle rode through the unguarded Death Gates and into the dank, murky streets of the city. The fog and rain did nothing to conceal Phlan's decay. If anything, the dreary elements emphasized the squalor and filth. The cold rain was gritty and acrid with soot, streaking all the city's buildings with dark, leprous stains. It was hard to tell which of the heaps in the gutters were piles of refuse and which were bloated, rat-gnawed corpses. All smelled vile. The loud rain did nothing to mask the curses, screams, and wicked laughter that drifted down from dimly lit windows.
Kern's spirits, so high after gaining the enchanted silver and steel warhammer, instantly plummeted. Even if he did manage to recover the Hammer of Tyr, he wondered if he could do it in time to save the fast deteriorating city.
The young warrior and elf rode into a desolate square. Once the marble fountain in its center had bubbled with clear, sweet water. Now black sludge oozed from the urn clasped by a stone cherub. The liquid gurgled sickeningly into the fountain's half-full basin. So much for watering the horses here, Kern thought glumly. He swung his palfrey in the direction of Denlor's Tower.
Pounding hoofbeats shattered the air.
Wide-eyed, Kern whirled his mount around. Listle did likewise with her dapple gray.
Both stared as a huge knight mounted on a coal-black charger thundered into the square.
The knight was clad in armor of purest jet, the oval of his shield as dark as a starless sky. His face was concealed by a visor, two crimson points of light glowing hungrily behind the narrow eye slit. Instead of a feathered plume, a gout of livid scarlet flame flickered atop the black knight's helm. The dark rider's onyx charger snorted crimson fire, and sulfurous smoke blasted out of flaring nostrils. Brilliant sparks flew from hooves that shattered cobblestones with every stride.
The black knight lowered his steel-tipped lance, digging cruelly barbed spurs into the charger's flanks. The horse let out a bloodcurdling sound as it leaped into a gallop. The black knight intended to run Kern through.
There was no time to consider options.
Kern dove out of the saddle. He hit the grimy cobbles hard and rolled, ignoring the flash of pain in his shoulder. The crushing hooves of the onyx charger passed so close, flying sparks left pinprick burns on Kern's skin.
Breathless, he staggered to his feet. The charger's momentum had carried it to the opposite side of the square, but already the black knight was wheeling the massive horse around.
"Listle, ride for the tower!" he shouted. The elf had guided her mount behind the scant protection of the marble fountain.
"What? And leave you to have all the fun?" she shouted back.
Kern cursed under his breath. Why didn't she ever do anything he told her to do? The black knight lowered his lance again, ready for another charge. Kern looked wildly about for cover, but there was nothing close by to do him any good. He made a pathetically easy target, standing there in the middle of the empty square.
"You don't suppose this is just another one of Primul's tests?" he called out to the elf hopefully.
"No," Listle snapped. "I don't."
"I didn't think so," Kern gulped.
The black knight dug in his spurs again, his crimson eyes glowing murderously. Blood streamed darkly down the charger's flanks as it lunged forward; its hoofbeats rent the air.
Deliberately, Kern reached for the steel and silver hammer at his belt. He gripped it firmly in both hands and raised it above his head, planting his feet on the slimy street. If he tried to run, his foe would simply skewer him in the back. He tensed his muscles, waiting for the right moment to hurl his hammer.
"Kern, no!" Listle screamed.
Abruptly a wall of searing fire ignited before the knight. Even from a distance, Kern could feel the scorching heat.
"Take that!" Listle cried.
The onyx charger didn't so much as pause. It galloped straight through the blazing barrier. The magical wall burst apart in a spray of harmless sparks, revealing itself as an illusion. The knight did not flinch. He lowered the tip of his lance. The steed charged.
Kern tensed, waiting… waiting for the precise moment in which to hurl the warhammer.
He never got the chance.
A streak of lightning crackled out of nowhere, striking the black knight.
The midnight charger reared up on its hind legs with a terrible whinny. Tendrils of magical energy crept up the knight's armor, snaking into the visor's eye slit. The lance burst asunder. The knight clenched a fist, letting out a horrible scream.
Another bolt of magical lightning exploded against the black knight's breastplate. This time Kern could discern its source-it came from the shadowed mouth of an alley on the edge of the square.
The charger reared again, then suddenly dissipated in a cloud of acrid smoke. The knight crashed to the cobbles and lay still. The flaming plume atop his helm guttered and died out. A few last sparks of magical energy skittered across his armor.
Cautiously Kern approached the fallen knight. With the toe of his boot, he tapped the scorched breastplate. A thin wisp of yellow smoke drifted out of the visor's eye slit. That was all.
"I think he's dead," Kern said grimly, returning the magical hammer to his belt.
"Oh? And what gave you that bright idea?" Listle said in a wan attempt at a jest. She couldn't stop shivering.
"Oh, he's well and truly dead," a rich, musical voice interjected.
Kern and Listle turned in surprise. A woman stepped from the dim arch of an alleyway.
She was beautiful. Her eyes and hair were a deep, dark color that seemed to glow with radiance. Her skin had a smooth, coppery sheen to it, and her features were finely wrought, almost aristocratic. She was obviously a wizard of some sort, but the white full-length robe she wore was different from the shapeless utilitarian smocks kindly old sorcerers favored. The shimmering cloth was diaphanous and slightly translucent in the fading daylight, hinting at an alluring shape underneath.