Evaine paused while Gamaliel mixed the mint and raspberry tea and handed it to her. Miltiades stirred the fire which crackled brightly in the blackness of the woods. The sorceress continued.
"I toured the surrounding countryside briefly to get the lay of the land and perhaps find a safe route for our journey. In the process, I found another tiny black zone, deep in a nearby forest. This gave me an idea.
"The tiny zone of blackness is the home of an old acquaintance of my mentor. At least it used to be his home. I never met the man, but Sebastian spoke of him often. They used to visit each other and argue over spells and trick each other into favors. The two hated each other, but each appreciated the other's powers. It was a rivalry both loved.
"Although I've never met this other wizard, it's worth a try to find out if he still exists. It's a dangerous venture-I'm sure he won't welcome strangers-but if I can prove that I knew Sebastian, maybe he'll listen. Maybe he can even help us. Either way, his home is on the way to the dark zone. It won't take us much time to stop there. And right now, I think it's the only chance we have for a solid clue."
Finally, Ren spoke. "I think we're all having mixed feelings about this mission, especially seeking out a being of evil." He was greeted by nodding heads all around. "But right now, it's our only choice. Why don't we all get back to sleep. We can discuss this in the morning."
No one had to be told twice. Bedrolls were again rolled out. In silence, everyone settled in as the fire burned down.
As he took up his silent watch, Miltiades smiled. All the bedrolls were a little closer to the fire than before.
11
The atmosphere inside Denlor's Tower was heating up. But it wasn't enemy wizards or warriors applying the pressure.
"You can pout, you can sulk, you can even wear that blue silky thing you wear when you want something special, but you aren't going on this raid."
"Tarl, I'm not going into the council chambers until we get this settled."
"Good. You can stay here until Phlan is teleported back to the Moonsea. I'll talk to the councilmen."
Shal's eyes blazed at her husband's words. The pair left the tower and headed for the council chambers.
Few citizens moved about the city today. Most were either stationed on the wall or gathering food for the hungry defenders. Of those who were near the council, all looked on as two prominent personalities of Phlan argued in front of the chamber doors. The sight was worth watching.
The woman, who was over six feet tall with beautifully sculpted muscles, wrung her hands and pleaded with her husband not to go into battle without her. A slightly shorter warrior-priest of Tyr, dressed in full battle armor, was trying to calm his wife.
Tarl grew more and more exasperated. "You and I have battled the horrors and evils that have assaulted Phlan in this cavern for over a month now. There is no end in sight. My only desire is to see you safe."
The sorceress gripped her husband's hand. "Do you think I want you any less safe? Is the Warhammer of Tyr going to keep you alive forever? There's only one way this argument is going to end. I'm going wherever you go. You can't stop me."
Tarl gazed at his wife with admiration and frustration. He shook his head in defeat and opened the door for her. By the gods, he loved this woman.
First Councilman Kroegel rose to meet the pair. "So glad you could attend our meeting. In these troubled times, it is comforting to have loyal citizens to defend Phlan."
Tarl bowed to His Holiness, Seventh Councilman Wahl. He was pleasurably reminded that a cleric of Tyr had held a seat on the council for the last hundred years. Tarl had been offered the seat, but he shunned politics. Administrative duties didn't appeal to his free spirit. Bishop Wahl was an excellent alternative; he and Tarl had always seen eye to eye on matters in the past.
Fifth Councilwoman Bordish motioned to several comfortable padded benches. "We've called you here to discuss an effort at peace."
"We're here to talk about a raid into the cavern, not about peace," Tarl said, jumping up and pacing before the Council of Ten. "How can you even think of talking peace? We've been attacked repeatedly and our homes have been moved to gods-only-know-where. If whoever did this had any intention of negotiating, don't you think we'd know by now? I don't see that we're in any position to bargain!"
"Sit down, Tarl," Bishop Wahl replied gently. "I posed the same concern to the council over the past two days. They want to attempt a truce, and I want you to lead the contingent making the attempt. If something goes wrong, the envoys at least have a chance of making it back to the city."
"With Tarl and I along, you can be sure of that," Shal said, smiling to her husband.
"You can't go," Tarl hissed under his breath. He gave her a silent stare that meant they would talk privately later. He turned to the council. "I will lead your peace mission. I want Thorvid of Porter, Alaric the White, and Pomanz as companions. I also want my opinion entered in the official record that this isn't going to work. I think the effort is doomed."
"Your fears are noted," sneered Fourth Councilwoman Eldred. "But the men you picked are all knights. How do you expect to talk peace with only warriors at your back?"
"I'll do all the talking. Those men are along to provide muscle if we're attacked. We'll leave within the hour. Please alert the knights I have named and ask them to wait at the Death Gates."
Husband and wife walked out of the council chambers, hurrying toward Denlor's Tower.
"Shal, I know you're angry and I know you want to come along. But I have a more important job for you. I'm going to try this peace attempt, but I'm sure it'll fail. I need you standing by to save this delegation when we're attacked."
The sorceress's mood softened. She smiled at her husband as they headed down the cobbled street. "I suspected you had some plan in mind. I appreciate the idea of riding in like an avenging angel when you get in trouble. I'll watch you magically and jump in when I'm needed. Just make sure nothing happens to you until I get there."
The couple walked arm in arm to their tower to prepare once again for war.
An hour later, Tarl and his party stood before the Death Gates, ready to leave. The cleric scowled at the truce flags his men carried.
Above the cavern that held Phlan hostage, high in the vermilion-stoned tower, the Red Wizard seethed.
"Truce flags? They can't surrender! I just finished lining up all the forest creatures sent by that fiendish god Moander. If Phlan surrenders, I can't pull down the walls," Marcus raved. "Tell them to go back to their pathetic city and suffer my wrath for resisting!" Red robes swirled as the fuming mage paced his chamber.
The mercenary commander who brought the message had turned to leave when a commanding voice shouted, "Stop! Latenat!"
"Fiend, don't hinder me now! Keep to your room and I will handle the war down below," Marcus said, conversing with the air around him.
The mercenary hadn't moved, but was silently confirming his opinion that no amount of gold was worth this job.
"Marcus," the voice continued calmly, "we are ordered to deliver as many souls as possible from Phlan into the pool of darkness. Do you suppose when you use the trees of Moander, the very trees of death I gave you, that a few of those souls might be lost in the battle? Latenat!"
"Yes, a few of the rabble can be expected to perish. On the other hand, after the dust clears, Phlan will be defeated, which accomplishes my personal goals. That's what's really important, after all."