Calmet faced Narrgh, invoked the name of Gruumsh, and flashed his hand in an obscene gesture. Palpable waves pulsed outward from the cleric's twisting hands and Narrgh's war boar stood suddenly still. After a moment's pause, the boar went berserk, forcing Narrgh to hang on fiercely.
Calmet laughed cruelly as he watched the boar react and observed Narrgh's plight. His spell was designed to enlarge any of the vermin with which the boar might be infested. The lice grew from too small to see to the size of a human hand and glowed with a sickening green aura as though they were empowered by a force siphoned from every foul infection in the universe. The stylets of the lice were as large as arrowheads and each louse thrust them into the skin of orc and boar alike in order to draw blood. The claws and hooks of their legs were like fishhooks, gripping their victims fiercely as they bit, gnawed, and sucked their hosts' blood. The boar squealed; Narrgh howled; Calmet guffawed.
Narrgh's guard sinister charged toward Calmet's right flank, determined to bury his urgrosh in the evil priest's neck. Calmet reached for his flail just as the charging guard halted unexpectedly, then slowly tilted from the back of the war boar. One of the hidden archers had placed an arrow perfectly in the orc's left ear, drilling straight through to the brain. As dead weight, the mighty orc warrior toppled in mid-swing and fell beneath the sharp, cloven feet of his own angry boar.
Narrgh's plight slipped from critical to fatal in a matter of moments. His boar twisted wildly, trying to shake off the giant lice, but it succeeded only in depositing the orc at Calmet's feet. Blinded, wildly shaking, and screaming from the ferocity of the lice, Narrgh received the only kind of grace Calmet dispensed-a death that ended his pain.
In less than a minute, the three orcs had fallen. Calmet motioned for the archers to loot the bodies and took a moment to cast a healing spell upon Balor. Only then did the cleric realize that Archprelate Laud was observing him without approval from inside the tunnel entrance. Calmet watched his master turn and walk away, realizing that if Hassq didn't show up with more slaves and the stone of summoning very soon, he was damned as assuredly as the slave he'd petulantly killed earlier in the day.
9
The woods seemed as quiet as though a blanket of snow was muffling the natural symphony. The only sound to be heard was the harmony of hooves composed by the counterpoint between the disjointed gait of Jozan's mule and the precise rhythm of the paladin's stallion.
"Have you noticed how isolated this road is?" asked Alhandra. "We're really too close to town for it to be this deserted."
Jozan was worrying about precisely that fact as Alhandra spoke aloud. "And did you notice how quiet it is?" he responded with a question. "It's almost too quiet."
In spite of the seriousness of the moment and in spite of the implied danger of which the warriors were wary, Alhandra burst out laughing. Seeing Jozan's confused expression, she pulled up her horse and offered an explanation for her behavior.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. At least half of the bard's tales I've ever heard began like that. When you said it was too quiet, I found myself starting to look for some unspeakable danger pouncing suddenly out of the trees. I was overreacting. When I realized what I was doing, I couldn't help but laugh."
Jozan might have joined the paladin in her laughter except for one thing. As the paladin explained her risibility, he spotted a shadow moving alongside the road near Alhandra. He tried to reach for his light crossbow inconspicuously, but before his hand could close on it, a voice rang out, "Reach for your weapons and you're dead!"
Alhandra would have laughed again at the cliche phrase if it had not been uttered in all seriousness. Jozan sat up in the saddle without grabbing his crossbow and Alhandra turned her destrier to face the roadside where she thought the speaker might be.
A cowled human stepped into view, garbed in greenery to match the woods. A well-crafted longbow made out of animal horn was pulled taut and a brightly fletched arrow was pointed directly at Alhandra.
"Pergue wants no strangers. Turn back. We've had enough trouble."
Alhandra wished she could spread her arms and detect evil, but she didn't think she could make any gesture without forcing the archer to let the arrow fly. She also worried that her compatriot might accomplish the same result by charging the woodsman in his verdant garb. Before she could think of what to say, she was surprised by the articulate words uttered by her companion.
"Pelor's blessings upon you," intoned the priest. "We have no wish to bring trouble. Indeed, we were sent here by the gods."
"We've had enough supernatural infestations," grumbled the archer. "We need no more."
"Perhaps," responded the cleric, "you don't know what you need. Pelor's providence oft exceeds our comprehension. His magnanimous provision oft exceeds our knowledge of our own danger."
"Tell that to your dead brothers," asserted the stranger in green.
Alhandra listened with amazement as the young cleric who seemed so tongue-tied in their debates along the trail was suddenly transformed into a font of eloquence.
"I may well do that," suggested the cleric. "Since death is never the final chapter for one who serves the lord of life, I may well have that opportunity. We have no wish to compound your troubles, but Pelor has chosen me for this quest and my companion has been commissioned by Heironeous. We dare not ignore the will of the gods, even should you riddle us with arrows." The cleric paused for a moment and apparently decided that a closing word of praise might not be amiss. "Judging from the perfect fletching of that arrow and the straightness of that shaft, I've no doubt you rarely miss."
"Well-spoken," the archer conceded. "The truth is that I'm just a hunter and I have no real authority in the town, but as Pelor is my witness, I vow that if I find you've caused more heartbreak in Pergue than we've already faced, I will turn your corpses into porcupines with these arrows."
"And does Pergue always show such hospitality?" responded Alhandra. "Perhaps your ill-manners are the cause of your heartbreak!"
Obviously fearing an unnecessary battle, Jozan interposed his timing influence once more. "Please pardon my companion," he pleaded, "I fear she sees all of life in light and darkness without a place for dawn or dusk. Your threat appears to her as rudeness and she cannot sense the pain beneath your hostility. I assure you that we will not add to your misery."
"You had best not," he countered firmly. Turning to Jozan, the hunter uttered his first civil remark. "You are right about the arrows, good brother" he said, replacing the arrow in his quiver. "They are my own work and they fetch the highest price in the kingdom. Even a mediocre shot rarely misses with these." So speaking, he melted into the woods as quickly as he had emerged from them.
Alhandra turned to the cleric and scowled at him with annoyance. "Dusk and dawn, indeed! Where do you get such drivel?"
"Observation, Alhandra," replied the cleric, "observation."
"I still say it's drivel," responded Alhandra with only a bit of the annoyance leaving her voice. "But at least you were right about one thing. It was too quiet."
She hid her amusement and turned to follow Jozan into Pergue.
The cleric led the way and surely heard her muttering behind him, "It's hard to believe you have difficulty with language. You certainly weren't at a loss for words back there."