Anthology - Realms of Valor Part 25

When the first tongue of flame licked his bony brow, the fiery shaft stopped descending. The blaze fizzled away, and the crimson rift abruptly closed, leaving nothing but a column of gray fumes behind. Within moments, the smoke had disappeared in the breeze. No sign of Adon's spell remained in the sky.

"He worships Cyric!" Corene gasped. "Only someone under the Lord of Strife's protection could withstand Mystra's magic-and do this to a woman's face!" She touched her fingers to her deformed cheek.

"Don't be foolish," scoffed the duke, stepping toward her and Adon. "Your pitiful G.o.ds don't interest me. The only being worthy of my adulation is me."

Corene leaped forward, swinging her flail at the duke's ribs. "For the women of Tegea!"

Lord Gorgias allowed the blow to land. It glanced off his leathery hide. Then he grasped Corene by the wrist and uttered an incantation. A soft coat of downy fur immediately sprouted all over her body. Her arms and legs suddenly curled backward against the joints, becoming gnarled, pitiful things that could not even support her weight. She collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony.

Adon wasted no time making another attack, this time drawing his mace. Calling Mystra's name, he leaped forward and swung his weapon toward Lord Gorgias's face. As though transfixed, the duke watched the f.l.a.n.g.ed head arc toward his nose and the patriarch dared to hope he would strike his enemy down with a single blow.

Moving so fast that Adon saw nothing but a blur, Lord Gorgias intercepted the mace and plucked it away. He tossed it aside, then clamped a powerful hand on the patriarch's throat, lifting him off his feet.

"Enough of your foolishness," hissed the duke.

Adon glimpsed Sarafina's lithe form approaching from the side. She was using both hands to swing Corene's flail at the duke's leg. The blow glanced harmlessly off the knee.

"You ally yourself with this stranger against your future husband?" he demanded, glaring down at Sarafina.

She raised the flail and struck again. The duke hardly seemed to notice. Gorgias looked back to Adon. "How did you make Sarafina love you?"

"What she feels for me isn't love," Adon gasped. "It's grat.i.tude for trying to help her."

The duke looked down at the girl. "Is that true?"

She glared back up at his misshaped face. "What I feel for this man is not your concern."

Lord Gorgias turned his shadowy eyes on Adon. "I would kill you now, but I fear that would only make you dearer to Sarafina's heart," he said. "I give you until highsun to show yourself for the coward you are. If you have not left my village by then, Sarafina becomes my wife whether she wishes it or not-and I'll honor my promise to kill every man in this village."

"I'll throw myself into the sea!" Sarafina threatened.

"I think not," the duke replied, glaring down at her. "I will have a woman from your house as a wife. If not you, then your mother."

With that, Lord Gorgias threw Adon into the pool. By the time the cleric had struggled back to his feet, his foe had scuttled halfway across the plaza, Broka's fawning figure trailing a step behind. Sarafina helped the patriarch out of the pool, and they went to where Corene still lay in the street. With her limbs twisted backward and her pained eyes staring straight into the sky, the novice looked more like a fur-covered crab than a young woman. Adon kneeled at her side and once again prayed to Mystra.

"Corene has not failed you," he whispered. "If you are angry, be angry with your patriarch alone! Let me undo the damage I have caused this poor woman. Let me show this village that I am your true servant!"

Adon closed his eyes, laid a hand on Corene's trembling brow, and spoke his incantation.

The novice remained in monstrous form.

Looking skyward, Adon cried, "Why, Mystra? Why did you send me here if you intended to abandon me?"

"Your G.o.ddess hasn't abandoned you," Sarafina said, covering her face with her veil. "She can't hear you."

Adon frowned. "Of course she can," he said. "She's the patroness-"

"Of magic, I know," said Sarafina. "But she still can't hear you, not as long as you're in Tegea."

"What are you saying?"

"Will you leave us in peace if I tell you?" she asked. "Lord Gorgias is quite capable of carrying out his threats, and you can't stop him. No one can."

"Mystra wouldn't have sent me here if that were true."

"If it is, will you leave?"

"I came to save Tegea, not destroy it," said Adon. "If I cannot do that, I'll go. But if I think I can stop Lord Gorgias-despite what you reveal about his power-you must promise to help me in any way I ask."

"Done," said Sarafina. She gathered her water pails and began to fill them, at the same time telling Adon the story of Lord Gorgias. "The duke has not always been so ugly- on the inside or the outside. Once, he was quite a handsome young n.o.bleman who cared a great deal for his people."

"What happened?" Adon asked, gathering Corene's twisted form in his arms. She lay silently in the patriarch's comforting embrace.

"It was during the Time of Troubles," Sarafina said. "For the first few days, we were spared much of the wild magic and unnatural beasts caused by the G.o.ds' fall. But one day, when we went into the groves to pick olives, we found that Tegea hadn't escaped completely." She shuddered. "The trees bled when we took their olives. Then they shrieked curses at us and tried to club us with their branches. Lord Gorgias came and cast a spell to calm them, but something went wrong. He cloaked the entire mountain with black fog so thick you couldn't see a pace ahead."

Sarafina started up a narrow lane toward her father's inn, motioning for Adon to follow along. "We didn't see Lord Gorgias again until the fog had lifted."

"And when was that?"

"A month after the G.o.ds ascended to the heavens again," said Sarafina. "He'd become the monster you see now. Somehow, though, he'd come to believe that he was more handsome than ever. He still believes that."

"This is all very interesting, but there's nothing in what you've said that convinces me Lady Mystra is powerless to help us," Adon said, already puffing from the exertion of carrying Corene up the steep slope.

"I haven't finished," Sarafina replied. Unlike the cleric, she showed no strain at carrying her heavy burden. "After the fog lifted, Gorgias cursed the G.o.ds for harming his people and for letting magic become unstable. He cast a spell over the village to hide us from the heavens. We were safe from the G.o.ds-but they could no longer hear our pleas. It was as if Tegea had died to them." She paused and turned sad eyes to Adon. "We had a church of Chauntea here, but the priests found they could no longer commune with the Great Mother. They lost their status in Tegea, so they left. When our crops didn't suffer for their leaving, Gorgias said it was only more proof that G.o.ds held nothing for us."

"And what did it prove for you?" Adon asked softly.

"That the clerics mustn't have been very holy." She sighed mournfully, making her veil flutter. "They were only interested in being important people in the village. A few other wandering priests have been through here, but they leave when they discover they're cut off from their G.o.ds."

"But Corene cast spells to protect the village. You saw her cover Broka's face with boils," Adon noted. "And I summoned that pillar of fire to strike down the duke."

"It's true," Sarafina admitted, "you and Corene are the only clerics who have been able to call upon your G.o.ddess for even the most minor magic, but..."

"Go on," Adon prompted kindly.

"Forgive me, Patriarch, but your flames did nothing to the duke." She looked down at the misshapen woman in Adon's arms. "And Lady Corene's magic couldn't save me-or save herself from a fate worse than mine."

Adon stopped walking. "You just might be right," he said softly. "The duke's spell may make it difficult for Mystra to answer our prayers, but I can't give up."

The patriarch laid Corene on the ground and tried again to dispel the magic that had turned her into such a hideous thing. This time, though, Adon prayed only for Corene to be healed, with no thoughts of his own part in bringing her to this sorry state.

The novice's body began to glow with a greenish aura and was quickly swaddled in swirling lights that obscured her from view. For several moments, Adon waited in silent antic.i.p.ation. When the radiance finally died away, he saw that his spell had worked, more or less. Corene's body had returned to normal, but her face remained disfigured.

Corene returned to her feet, staring at her arms and legs as if seeing them for the first time. "You've saved me!"

"Not entirely," said Sarafina, pointing timidly to her face. "But it will make your journey easier."

"What journey?" Adon demanded. "We're staying. You've seen that I can undo the duke's magic."

"And what of her face?" countered Sarafina, reaching down to stroke the white fleece hanging off Corene's chin. "Her curse isn't so different from mine. You haven't rid her of that."

"If it's the only way I can prove to you I'm right and you should have faith in Mystra, I shall," Adon said.

A yellow glow spread from Adon's hand to engulf the novice's head. For a moment, her features seemed to soften and the hideous lumps began to recede. Then, just as Adon was certain of his victory, a gray shadow started to creep back over Corene's face.

As the lumps began to rise again, Corene backed away, breaking contact with Adon. "Stop, before it affects you too!"

Adon closed his hand and hung his head. "It won't work until Mystra can hear our prayers," he said. 'The duke's curse makes his magic stronger than any I can cast while cut off from Our Lady."

"The only true faith that exists in this village is that which Lord Gorgias places in himself, and it's clear that you're not powerful enough to overcome that on your own," Sarafina said. "You must honor your promise and leave."

Adon did not answer for several moments. Finally he said, "Perhaps you're the one who will have to honor her promise, Sarafina."

The innkeeper's daughter frowned. "What do you mean?"

Adon turned to Corene. "I a.s.sume you've studied the spell of true sight recently?"

"Of course, but-"

"Good," Adon said. He looked back to Sarafina and smiled. "I hope there's a mirror in your father's inn."

As it turned out, Sarafina had an ideal mirror. It was just large enough to cover Adon's forearm like a small buckler, yet small enough to support with one hand.

Holding it as though it were a shield, the patriarch stood before the oaken gates of Castle Gorgias, his mace held firmly before him. At his side stood Sarafina, her veil fluttering in the warm breeze. Behind them, waiting at the edge of the cobblestone street, were Corene and Myron. The innkeeper did not approve of Adon's plan, but, at his daughter's insistence, had reluctantly agreed to go along.

Broka's pocked face appeared in the window of the gatehouse. "You still have time to leave, cleric," be cried, peering at the blazing sun. "It's not quite highsun."

"I've come to challenge your ugly master for Sarafina's hand," Adon called. "If he's not too much of a coward, he might win himself a wife this day."

Broka raised a brow at Sarafina. "Is this so?"

"It is," she answered. "If Lord Gorgias wins this combat, my father will offer my hand to him."

She had barely finished speaking before the castle gates crashed open. Lord Gorgias scuttled into the street and glanced at the mirror on Aden's arm. "Do you really think that will protect you?" he snickered.

"You can't hit what you can't see," the cleric answered.

He angled the mirror so that it reflected the sun's brilliant rays into his opponent's eyes and rushed forward. Sarafina fled to her father's side.

"This will be a short combat," the duke promised, his fingers already working to cast a spell. He pointed at the patriarch, his deep voice growling his spell. When his gaze fell on the mirror's silvery surface, though, he stumbled over the syllables of his incantation.

Taking advantage of his enemy's blunder, Adon lashed out at Lord Gorgias. The blow struck him in the head, knocking him senseless. It also made the duke's spell misfire; a black beam shot into the wall of the gatehouse. Amid the clatter of broken stones and crumbling masonry, Broka's death scream rang out as the tower collapsed around him.

Adon thrust his shield toward Lord Gorgias's face. 'Take a good look, hideous duke," he said. "This is your true self-inside and out!"

The duke turned away. "That's not me!" he growled, lashing out. "It's an illusion!"

Adon ducked, then moved around to keep the mirror in front of Lord Gorgias. "You're the one who has been casting illusions, but you've fooled yourself and no one else!"

Lord Gorgias snapped a foot out, catching Adon in the ribs. The cleric stumbled several steps backward before finally falling to the ground. He clutched the mirror to his chest and struggled to draw a breath.

The duke pointed in Sarafina's direction. 'Tonight, you sleep in my bed!" he said, his tusks gnashing in fury.

Adon leaped to his feet and moved forward warily. "The only enchantment on this mirror is a spell of true sight," Adon said, thrusting the silvered gla.s.s toward Lord Gorgias's face. "Look!"

The duke peered into the mirror for barely an instant, then whipped his head around so that he would not have to see himself. Adon sprang forward, swinging his mace again and again. Lord Gorgias gasped in pain and a b.l.o.o.d.y welt rose each time the weapon struck, though any one blow would have killed most normal men.

The duke tried to strike back, flailing his arms and legs about blindly. He landed only glancing blows that bounced harmlessly off Adon's armor. Several times, Lord Gorgias tried to look at the patriarch, but he always glanced away when he saw his own image. Twice, he lashed out at the mirror itself, but the cleric was ready for this tactic and knocked the hand aside with a sharp blow of his mace.

Finally, Lord Gorgias dropped to his knees. "It's me!" he cried, covering his head. "I admit it. That's me."

Adon stood over the cowering duke. "It doesn't have to be," he said. His voice sounded thin and reedy, winded as he was from the fight. "You can change what you see here."

The duke raised his head and stared into the mirror. "Don't you think I've tried?" he demanded, grimacing at the image. "It's impossible!"

"No, it isn't." Adon kept the shield in front of Lord Gorgias. "You have to face this, like you're doing now. Then we can get help."

"Help?" Lord Gorgias asked. He used a filthy-clawed finger to scratch at the image in the gla.s.s. "Who can help me escape that?"

"Our Lady of Mysteries."

"No!"

The duke lashed out and plucked the mirror away, then swung his legs around and swept the cleric's feet from beneath him. 'The G.o.ds are the ones who did this to me!" Lord Gorgias yelled, throwing himself on Adon.

"Not Mystra," the cleric gasped. "She wasn't even a G.o.ddess then."

Lord Gorgias smashed his bony forehead into the cleric's nose. Adon heard cartilage snapping and his cheeks exploded into pain.

"Have a look at yourself!" snickered the duke, holding the mirror over Aden's blood-smeared face.

The patriarch had no choice but to do as Lord Gorgias commanded. His nose had been broken and lay spread across his face, and both eyes were already turning black.

But it was what he did not see that astonished him. The ugly scar on the left side of his face was gone. Yet, when he reached up to touch it, he felt the same cord of rough skin that had been there since the Time of Troubles. It simply was not visible in the mirror.

"Mystra?" the cleric gasped.

Lord Gorgias brought the mirror down. Adon barely managed to throw his arm across his eyes, then his entire face exploded into agony as the gla.s.s shattered against him.

A fiery streak shot from across the street, where Corene had been watching the battle with Myron and Sarafina. A magical arrow of flame buried itself into Lord Gorgias's ribs. The shaft continued to sputter for an instant after it struck, filling the air with the acrid stench of burning flesh. The duke cried out, but didn't even glance in the direction from which the attack had come. Instead, he closed his fingers around Adon's throat and began to squeeze.

A dark curtain began to descend inside Adon's mind. He thrust a hand up, sticking his fingers into the smoking hole that Corene's fire arrow had opened. Lord Gorgias tried to pull away, but Adon hung on tight, at the same time uttering an incantation. A wave of unimaginable cold ran down his arm and directly into the wound. With a sizzle, a cloud of red steam shot from the puncture, making the duke scream in agony. He threw himself off the cleric and rolled away, clutching his stomach.

Adon stood and, after wiping the blood from his eyes, retrieved the largest mirror fragment he could find. It was about the size of his hand and shaped like a squat triangle. He walked toward Lord Gorgias cautiously, at the same time enchanting the shard with one of his most powerful spells. The duke struggled to his knees and glared at the cleric.

"Your hatred has consumed you," Adon said, holding the blood-smeared shard toward the duke. "That's what made the monster you see here, not the G.o.ds."