From within the forge came a deep-throated roar. A man emerged-or seemingly a man, though larger than any man could possibly be.
Noph started back from the figure in horror. Like Artemis's first creation, the forge-made man was only half finished. Veins and blood vessels twisted together with muscle uncloaked by flesh. Bones appeared in some places but were hidden in others. The figure screamed, a high-pitched yell of pain and horror, then lunged forward at one of the hooded figures and bore it to the floor. His massive hands, flesh and muscle shredding from them, locked around the false worshiper's throat.
The forge's unholy light continued to blaze and flare. More creatures emerged, horrid mockeries of men and animals, their bodies twisted and crushed. Some could barely move, but crawled forward on knees or stumps of legs not fully grown. One, a mere head and torso, wriggled helplessly backward and fell into the lake with a splash. Another, a skeleton from the waist up but with the lower limbs of a man, seized a worshiper and bit cleanly through his neck before collapsing in a shapeless heap of bones. The cultists hacked and slashed at the deformed warriors, shouting encouragement to each other.
The companions shrank back against the altar in horror at the force Entreri had unwittingly released. Shar knelt over the assassin's body and wrapped his maimed arm in a scarf. She put her mouth against Kern's ear and shouted, "Come on! We've got to get out of here!"
"Where?" The paladin looked about, desperately seeking a means of exit. The forge was no longer spewing forth its mutated creatures, and most of those it had created were either cut to pieces or had lurched off into the darkness, wailing in inhuman voices. A number of the cultists were still on their feet and bearing down upon the company.
"Now! Cut a way past them to the stairs." Shar led the assault with a whoop, followed closely by Kern and Trandon. Noph bent and lifted the unconscious figure of Entreri, surprised at how light the body of the assassin was. Ingrar followed him, one hand on his shoulder, and together they made their way slowly back whence they had approached the forge, shielded by the sword of Shar, the warhammer of Kern, and Trandon's whirling staff.
It was clear that escape was hopeless. Burdened with Entreri's body, the party moved too slowly, and the devotees of the Fallen Temple were too many.
"I can't… keep this… up," panted Shar to Kern.
The paladin continued to wield his hammer, but his arm was growing weary. The bloodstained weapon rose and fell more slowly.
Trandon's hair had escaped from its leather thong and fell freely about his shoulders. The fighter suddenly stepped in front of the others, facing the entire onslaught of the cultists himself. "Get back!" he yelled.
As the others staggered between the columns of pillars, Trandon raised his hands and whispered a word. A great gout of flame spouted forth, catching the leading Fallen Temple worshipers in its blast. Their screams were lost in the roar of the fire as it spread to either side and rose, forming a wall of flame. Trandon turned to the rest of the company.
"Now! Run!" he cried. Recovering from their astonishment, the others turned to flee.
As he ran, Noph looked back. From beyond the flames he could see a brilliant glow where the forge lay. Bolts of magical energy shot from it toward the fire. The wall bulged ominously.
"Look out!" shouted the youth. He tried to run faster, but it was too late. With a terrific explosion, Trandon's wall of fire erupted. Noph saw dimly before him the pillars toppling against one another, like so many ninepins. Stones tumbled from the ceiling; he saw one strike Sharessa, knocking the beautiful pirate to the pavement. In a daze, he realized there was no longer solid ground beneath his feet. He and Entreri were falling. There was a dull roaring in his ears. And then silence.
Chapter 4
Thunder rolled distantly, and Noph shaded his eyes against the lightning flashing across a stormy sky. A dark rain lashed his cheeks, and he felt warm blood running down his face. Some of it trickled into his mouth, and he tasted its salty tang.
"Noph!"
Harloon was calling him, struggling in the grasp of a club-swinging ettin.
"I'm coming, Harloon!"
The youth bent to push the tall bushes and grass of the lonely moor away from his legs.
They wouldn't move.
"Noph!"
Noph pushed again at the grassy covering over his legs. He opened his eyes, not to the wind and rain of his dream-inspired moor, but to another darkness, one filled with pain. Someone was whispering urgently in his ear.
"Noph, are you all right?"
"Yes… no… I… I can't move my legs."
"Damn! Wait a minute."
Noph heard the scrape of a tinderbox, and a faint, flickering light illuminated his surroundings. He was lying on top of a pile of rubble. Blackness stretched around him as far as he could see. Before him knelt Shar, an ugly gash across her forehead. She had torn a strip of cloth from her shirt and, winding it around a piece of wood, was busy fashioning a makeshift torch.
Noph looked down at his legs. They were pinned beneath a large block of stone, but oddly enough, he felt no pain, only a curious sense of dissociation, as if everything were happening to someone else and he was an impartial observer. He lifted a hand to push back hair from his face and felt dried blood crusted on his scalp.
Next to him, he could see a shapeless pile, as if someone had carelessly thrown down a bundle of washing. The bundle stirred and moaned, and he saw it was Entreri. His skeletal arm had come partially out of its wrappings, and the assassin stared at it, moaning and rocking back and forth.
The sight of Entreri, usually so cool and detached from those around him, in such a state jarred Noph back to full consciousness. He reached down and tried to push the stone from his legs, but it was too much for him. Shar stuck her torch in a crevice and came to his aid, but after a moment, she, too, admitted defeat.
"Wait here," she said in a low voice. "I'm going to see if I can find the others."
She took the torch and climbed away over the rubble, leaving Noph and Entreri in the dark. They saw her light bobbing in the distance, and then it disappeared. For an endless space, Noph lay still, listening to water dripping somewhere and to soft moans of pain and horror from Entreri. Then, just as hope was at its lowest ebb, Shar's light reappeared. In a moment, the female pirate was at his side, accompanied by Kern and Trandon.
"Where's Ingrar?" asked Noph.
Shar shook her head. "I don't know. We couldn't find him."
Trandon and Kern pulled at the stone block pinning Noph's legs; with a grinding sound, it moved and rolled away. But though the obstacle was gone, Noph found he still could not stand or even shift positions. Kern knelt by him, examining his limbs.
"Your legs are broken, Noph. I'm going to heal you." He placed a hand on the injured legs, murmuring a prayer. Noph felt a power run through him and sensed strength returning. He flexed his legs and stood cautiously, with Trandon's help.
"What about him?" He turned to the assassin, still lying semiconscious on the ground.
Trandon looked thoughtfully at the little man's body. "Are you sure you want to heal him?" he asked Kern.
The paladin sighed and nodded. "We must succor the fallen, even if they're enemies."
Trandon shrugged and bent over the dark figure. His fingers spread out on Entreri's forehead, stroking it while he muttered words of arcane power. The little man stirred and sat up suddenly. His dark eyes sparkled in the torchlight. He looked at his arm, and with a shudder that ran through his entire body, rewrapped it, holding it close to his body.