Authors: Roger Moore
Lord Garkim looked back at the great black eyes floating above him. “Your Majesty, what did… ah, did you do something to”
“We did nothing to him. He prayed to his deity. He will join us in our fight against Ysdar. We calculated a high probability that he would be told to do so by Tyr.”
Garkim shook his head in wonder. “Your Majesty, he is a holy warrior, an instrument of his deity. I could not see how he could be ordered to take up our cause. He regards us as enemies, and”
“You are correct, Lord Garkim,” said the voice. The face began to withdraw from the black wall, fading into the darkness and pulling its coils back with it. The room rumbled as water shifted and sloshed in the distance. “You are correct. We are his enemies. We believe Tyr told him to liberate this land from our rule, from the tyranny of the bloodforges. He did not truly take up our cause. He said, We will destroy the enemies of Doegan,’ by which he meant us, Lord Garkimwe, your emperor, as well as Ysdar, the Fallen Temple, the tanar’ri, and all beasts that inhabit this Utter East who dare oppose him. He left because he could do nothing else here; he will not waste his time on futile gestures. He is very wise, this Miltiades of Phlan. You must be prepared to kill him soon, Lord Garkim.”
The last words had not fully settled into Lord Garkim’s mind by the time the mage-king had fully vanished into the depths of blackness beyond the great wall, When they did, Garkim caught his breath, staggered at the implications. Kill Miltiades? This was a dangerous task indeed, the hardest he had ever been given. It was not a challenge he welcomed. It would have to be done, certainly, but how? He would have to kill or disable the other visitors, too, but they would be less of a problem. Poison was out, thanks to that ring Miltiades wore, and that other paladin was immune to most magical effects. This would be a serious problem.
And there was the curious thing that happened after Miltiades had prayed. Suddenly, Lord Garkim could no longer read the silver warrior’s mind. Instead of the usual stream of thoughts, Garkim could pick up only a chanted prayer to Tyr from the paladin’s thoughts. It reminded him uncomfortably of his parents’ old trick. This was a bad development. Why had the paladin started this? Did he suspect… ?
Lord Garkim looked after the vanished mage-king, then slowly walked to the chamber exit.
“Lord Garkim,” said the voice in the air. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, never breaking stride.
“Send triple our usual offering to the Temple of Umberlee this evening. Then speak with Wavelord Gethonar if you feel the need for additional advice or assistance in this matter.”
Garkim stopped for a moment, then resumed his walk. “Why, thank you, Your Majesty,” he said as he left. There was no reply.