"Please, Master," Frodyne begged. "Help me. I'll do anything you ask."
"You destroyed my army," Szass Tarn spat. "Your soul can rot here for all I care."
Frodyne raised her hands again and mumbled. A sparkling blue globe appeared in front of her. She blew at it, propelling it magically toward her ebon attacker. The globe impacted just above the thing's waist, popped, and squirted acid on the black metal. Crackling and sizzling filled the chamber, and the guardian bent its head to look at its melting stomach.
"You wield magic well, my sweet," the lich said icily.
"But I need your help to beat this thing!" she cried as she fumbled in the folds of her robe and withdrew a handful of green powder.
Szass Tarn slowly shook his head. "You stopped my skeletons all by yourself. You stopped my plans for having you rule Thay at my side. Surely you can stop this creature." His voice was gravelly and showed no hint of emotion.
Frodyne started tracing a symbol in the powder in the palm of her hand. The lich turned to watch the construct, which was somehow repairing its stomach. Before Szass Tarn's eyes, metal flowed like water to cover the melted section. In an instant, there was no evidence it had been damaged. It took a step toward Frodyne, its massive footfall rocking the cavern and causing her to spill the powder she had intended to use in another spell.
"It could kill her," the spectre at Szass Tarn's side said simply. This time it wore the face of the young man. "But she cannot kill it. You cannot kill it. It is Leira's guardian, and it will continue to repair itself until the end of time. It has looked into her heart and discovered she does not honor the black goddess. It cannot rest until she is dead."
"And can it see into my own heart?" the lich posed. "Or perhaps it cannot even see me because the shriveled organ in my chest does not beat."
Frodyne's scream cut off the spirit's reply. The guardian swatted her like an insect, and she flew across the cavern to land on her back. Her red robe was shredded, and blood oozed freely from gouges in her flesh. Her face was frozen in terror, but still she did not give up. The lich had taught her well. Frodyne withdrew a bit of pitch from the pocket of her ruined garment. Placing it in her bloody palm, she raised her hand until it was in line with the guardian's four eyes. A black bolt of lightning shot forth from her fingers and struck the creature in the bridge of its nose. The guardian stumbled backward from the impact, but was not damaged.
Szass Tarn coaxed her. "Think, my lovely apprentice. Cast a spell that will keep it from reaching you. Buy yourself time."
She drew what was left of her robe about her and struggled to her feet. Words gushed rapidly from her mouth, and she pointed her index finger at the cavern floor. The stone beneath the guardian's cloven hooves wavered for a moment, shimmered in the meager light of the chamber, then turned to mud. But the guardian did not fall into the muck. Rather, the gray construct hovered above the great muddy patch, its hooves dangling inches above it in the musty air. Beneath the guardian, the mud hardened and cracked like a dry river bed.
"This cannot be!" Frodyne screamed. Then she turned to glance at her mentor.
Szass Tarn's hands glowed a faint blue, his long fingers pointed at the ebon guardian. An evil grin played slowly across his face as he returned Frodyne's disbelieving stare. He flicked his wrist, and the guardian floated forward and came to rest on a patch of rock near Frodyne.
"You! You kept it from becoming trapped!" she cried, as she twisted to the side to avoid another blow.
The lich nodded and thrust his hand into the air, mentally summoning an ancient parchment that lay in his tower. His fingers closed about the curled scroll as the guardian reached for Frodyne. Staring at his terrified apprentice, Szass Tarn carefully unrolled the parchment. "I promised you immortality, my dear, a reward for your loyalty. You shall have it."
The lich began to read the magical words, and the construct grabbed Frodyne about the waist. Szass Tarn read faster, while the construct lifted her until she was level with its four eyes. The lich finished the enchantment as the guardian squeezed the breath from her lungs and dropped Frodyne's lifeless body like a child would discard a ruined doll.
The parchment crumbled in Szass Tarn's fingers, and his apprentice's dead body shimmered with a pale white glow. A moment passed, then Frodyne's ches* rose and fell. She took great gulps of air into her lungs and struggled to her feet. She glanced at her mentor, then at the construct, which again reached out to grab her. The thing's fingers closed about her once more and squeezed harder, and Frodyne realized what Szass Tarn had done. He had given her eternal life-of a sort.
"No!" she shouted as her ribs cracked and she fell lifeless a second time.
The construct stepped back and waited. Again, the young Red Wizard was resurrected from the dead. Again she struggled to her feet.
"Enjoy your immortality, Frodyne," the lich hissed, as he watched the guardian deliver another fatal blow and witnessed her rise again. He was pleased Leira's construct would busy itself with Frodyne and leave him alone.
"The relic," the lich pressed the spectre. "Show me where the crown is."
The spectre gestured to a stony recess. Szass Tarn strode to it and took in the mounds of coins and gems. Perfectly faceted emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds glimmered from every cranny. A crown dotted with rubies sat atop the mass. The lich quickly snatched it up and felt the energy pulsing in the metal band.
"Leira's gift," the spirit declared. "The prize of our temple."
Stepping from the alcove, Szass Tarn placed the crown upon "his head then doubled forward as pain shot through his chest. The lich was caught off guard by the icy hot sensation. He pitched over and writhed on the rocky chamber floor until his frantic movements knocked the crown free.
The painful spasms ended, and the lich slowly stood. "What manner of power was that, priests?" the lich gasped.
The spirit wore the face of the old woman. 'The power of eternal life. The heart of he who wears the crown will beat forever."
Szass Tarn's human form melted away, revealing his skeletal frame and pinpoint eyes. "My heart does not beat," he said flatly.
"So instead, you felt pain," the woman answered. "The Lady of the Mists is indeed more treacherous than you. Leira lured you here. The priest who tempted your favored apprentice with the relic was merely a pawn."
The lich kicked the crown across the floor and glared at the spectre.
"Again the Patroness of Illusionists and Liars struck when your apprentice betrayed you and sought the crown herself. Then my goddess triumphed once more when you lost that which you held dear, a beautiful sorceress who would have spent eternity at your side." The ghostly image pointed at the struggling Frodyne. "You've lost your army, your woman, your ability to trust others. And the prize at the end of your quest was something you can never possess. Who is the more treacherous, Szass Tarn?"
The lich threw back his head and laughed, a deep, throaty sound that reverberated off the walls of the cavern. The lich roared loud and long as he padded from the chamber and climbed the stairs.
THIEVES' REWARD
The water of Lake Ashane lay far below Teza's feet, as hard and dark as a sheet of black glass. No wave rippled its smoothness; nothing could be seen beneath its glistening surface to indicate the depth. Not that depth really mattered to Teza. She could not swim, and no one had ever measured the bottomless depths of the Lake of Tears.