Pools of Darkness

6

After leaving the dwarves, Ren stopped in a tiny hamlet for a few supplies, then turned toward the Stojanow River. There were plenty of roads that led to Phlan, but all wound through the mountains, and although the routes were good, they took at least three days longer than the route Ren had planned.

He had traveled along the river many times and knew its terrain well. Although the trail could be rough, even disappearing in the underbrush from time to time, a ranger on horseback had little trouble following it. So Ren spurred his horse toward the river and rode as hard as the terrain would allow. Three days of riding brought him to the Dragonspine Mountains. A swift brook rushed and gurgled with the heavy rain that had hit the region for the last month.

Two days later, the brook linked up with the Stojanow River. It, too, was a rushing torrent, swollen with the heavy rains. Ren and his horse pressed along the muddy banks, through day after day of rain and gray skies. Yet after all those weeks of tracking and ambushing orcs, he was relieved to be traveling the wilderness without clear and present danger.

The river slowly curved and weaved to the south, and would eventually empty into the Moonsea. Phlan would be perched in its familiar crook at the end of the river.

As Ren rode the river trail, he remembered traveling this way ten years ago. Back then, this had been a favorite route for the many ogre and orc armies trying to wrest Phlan from the merchants of the city. Humans avoided the river at all costs.

In the days when the river had been overrun by monster armies, the water had been a polluted syrup. Vegetation for hundreds of yards on either side withered and died at the river's touch and from the stench that arose from the pollution. Not a single fish, tadpole, or weed lived in the water. But the recovery the river had made since that horrible time was incredible. Now the water was alive with fish, birds, frogs, and snakes.

A few more days down the river put Ren halfway to Phlan. As he rode over a rise, he sighted Sorcerer's Island in the distance. He rode down the hill toward the edge of the water. The island used to stick out like a cancerous growth. Happily, the land had completely renewed itself. Fish now jumped in the clear water, white birches and small pines grew all around, and many muskrat warrens were visible at the water's edge.

A silver pyramid that had once been the evil sorcerer's stronghold stood in the center of the island. It was ugly and out of place, but no longer pumped foul poisons into the river. In fact, the pyramid was heavily overgrown with vines and weeds.

Ren patted his horse's neck as he gazed at the island. "That was quite a battle, Stolen, old boy. It was the three of us against the evil, crazed wizard. We depended heavily on Shal in that fight, because it takes a wizard to fight a wizard. But Tarl and I were at her back, and by the gods, no monster harmed her that day. What a tussle the three of us had. You can't imagine what it's like to be slimed by a six-foot-tall frog with teeth."

Ren dismounted and led the horse to the edge of the water so it could drink its fill. He still hesitated at letting himself drink from the lake. The image of that once sulphurous quagmire was burned deeply in his memory.

The ranger opened his saddlebags and took out a couple of apples for himself and his steed. He knew he spoiled the huge gray horse terribly, but war-horses didn't live long, and Ren especially liked this one.

"Stolen, those were some of the best days of my life. Even though Shal, Tarl, and I put ourselves through tremendous risks, we knew we were doing the right thing. The wizard living in that silver monstrosity was experimenting with life and death and creating the most abominable, deformed monsters. As a result of his experiments, poison was being dumped into the river so his monsters could swim downstream and take over all the cities on the Moonsea. Shal, Tarl, and I came up from Phlan to find out what was causing the pollution and the influx of hellish creatures. When we encountered the mage, we knew right away he was evil and crazy. We fought and killed him and finally burned his tower."

Ren waved his arms as he told the story to his horse, but the animal was more interested in the apples in its master's hand. Ren laughed and held out the apple, and Stolen snatched it away.

"Right, boy, you don't care about wizards and poisoned rivers. All you care about is a good fight and an even better dinner. But seeing this river makes me remember. Back then, I worried whether my life was going in the right direction. Now I know I did the right thing.

"Maybe I've been worried for nothing. Shal, Tarl, and I are going to have a good laugh over those dreams I had and then I can get back to my valley. Let's hurry to Phlan. It should be only two days from here."

Ren swung onto Stolen's back, feeling much better about the journey. He was looking forward to seeing Tarl and Shal; it had been too long since he'd visited them. He shouldn't have let a stupid dream worry him so much. He knew people whose dreams foretold the future, but never in his life had he been prescient.

Just the other night, Ren had been startled by another nightmare, this one about pit fiends, abishai, erinyes, and a huge red tower. He knew such fiends existed, but he also knew that such creatures rarely, if ever, made an alliance. Ren had decided it was probably his imagination or something he ate.

As they moved along the trail, Stolen sensed his master's urgency and pushed himself hard. Ren hardly had to encourage him. They traveled all day and well into the night, then camped and started early the following day. They didn't quite make it to Phlan by nightfall, but riding along the river in the dark, the ranger could make out the lights of the city far in the distance. He made camp, cleaned himself and his gear, and gave Stolen a hearty brushing. He wouldn't allow himself to show up on Shal and Tarl's doorstep looking like a hobo. Ren wasn't prideful about his appearance, but he liked to be clean.

His thoughts again drifted to the old days. Years ago, he'd briefly thought of asking Shal to be his wife. He didn't begrudge Tarl his luck, but Ren wished that things might have gone a little differently. More and more, he found himself wishing for someone to share his life. But he realized that Shal wasn't the woman for him. She reminded him far too much of Tempest, and he would never have been sure whether he married Shal out of love for her or as a surrogate for Tempest.

As he lay under the cloudy sky, his heart still burned for his long-lost Tempest. He could still see her in his mind. She was tall, so quick and agile. She wore her hair in a long braid, but when she wasn't trying to steal jewels or pick a pocket, her long red tresses fell loose to her hips. Tempest had been Ren's first love. She had consumed him so completely that he'd temporarily abandoned the lifestyle of a ranger to become a thief. Her death had been a blow from which Ren had never really recovered. He deliberately tried not to think of her, yet he was reminded of her all the time. In the foolishness of youth, the pair had thought themselves indestructible, but they had learned otherwise. Other women had shared his life after that bold female, but none had filled his heart like Tempest. Ren fell asleep dreaming sweet dreams of her.

Arising before dawn, Ren dressed in shining elven chain mail and mounted a freshly brushed and curried Stolen. They galloped into the Quivering Forest and traveled for an hour, smelling the fresh green woods around them. Even though this was the rainy season, Ren hadn't seen the sun in five weeks. But the new spring growth in the forest was the thickest he had ever seen. He inhaled deeply and savored the smell of wet earth and blooming trees.

Rounding what he knew was the final bend in the river before reaching Phlan, Ren and Stolen emerged from the woods. The ranger reined in his horse in shock. He sat for long minutes, dumbfounded, gazing at the scene before him.

Phlan wasn't there.

There should have been huge walls patrolled by armed guards; there should have been towers and battlements; and Denlor's Tower should have been visible looming over the city. Instead, as far as he could see, only a sooty smear of multicolored tents stood against the backdrop of the crystal clear Moonsea. Where Phlan had once stood, there was now a bay. The city was gone.

Ren spurred his horse forward. Beyond the tents, the ranger could see a few merchant ships and fishing boats tied to what looked like a hastily constructed dock.

Stolen trotted along the edge of the river as Ren searched for a place to cross. Riding closer to the tent city, the ranger noticed some type of rafting operation that hadn't been there on his last visit to Phlan. As he neared, he saw armed guards working a rope winch.

"Good morning, troopers," Ren hailed the three. He forced himself to sound pleasant despite his rotten mood. "Uh, when did Phlan disappear?"

"The gods took the city a month and a week ago," one of the rough troopers said gruffly.

The winch hauled a large raft back from the tent city and over to Ren's side of the river.

"By the gods, seems like yesterday," another trooper added. "The only people you'll see in New Phlan are those who were away from the city on the night of the storm." Stolen nickered a warning and backed up. Ren patted the horse's neck.

A sandy-haired guard, older than the others, approached the ranger. "Quite a beast you have there. Don't think I ever saw a horse that large or that gray. What business do you have in New Phlan?" His tone was hostile. The other two troopers loosened their weapons and stood behind their leader.

"My name is Ren o' the Blade. Perhaps you've heard of me?" The ranger used his most polite tone, the one he reserved for guards who thought they were bigger than life.

The three exchanged glances, backing away at the mention of Ren's name. After the battles he had won with Shal and Tarl many years ago, there weren't many people in Phlan who didn't know the names of the trio. The ranger could tell that these three were no different. They knew of his reputation, all right. The scowling looks on their faces changed to ones of respect, then worry. The three glanced at each other, then the leader cleared his throat and addressed Ren.

"Will you be looking for the cleric Tarl and the sorceress Shal? They were in their tower when the gods took the city. The people of Phlan, including your friends, haven't been heard from since that night." The older trooper was the only one brave enough to explain and risk upsetting the ranger.

"What's your name, trooper?"

"Shelly, noble ranger. I have been appointed by the council of New Phlan to operate this ferry service. We usually charge whatever one can pay for the ride, but we'll cross you for free. It's the least we can do for a hero of Phlan." The trooper's look was pleading. Deep down, he was hoping that Ren might help locate the city.

The ranger stared hard at the three. He tried to assess whether they were really who they said they were. Maybe they were thieves trying to rob honest citizens trying to get into Phlan. Then Ren realized he was glaring and softened his look. "Who did you say operates this ferry?"

"The council, sir. The profits go to feed the homeless-in case you were wondering."

The ranger was convinced. He dismounted and led Stolen onto the huge raft. The craft was so enormous the logs didn't even dip into the water when the huge war-horse stepped on. Shelly followed the pair onto the raft.

"Tell me, Shelly, how much would you have tried to charge me?"

The raft started to move as the other two troopers cranked the winch.

The sandy-haired warrior hesitated nervously, then drew himself up. "Why, I would have insisted on at least a gold piece for a fine-looking warrior like yourself, sir."

Ren grinned and tossed two gold coins to the man. Slapping him on the back, Ren tried to sound friendly. "Thank you for the information, Shelly. See that the homeless get this."

Shelly was obviously pleased by this gesture. He softened up a bit and no longer seemed as jumpy around the legendary ranger. "Many thanks, sir. And watch out for the first councilman. Lord Bartholomew is a rough one, Ren o' the Blade!" the old guard offered.

During the rest of the short journey, Ren asked Shelly if he knew anything else about the city's disappearance. The trooper knew little more than silly rumors, and the ranger realized that most of the sparse information was only idle chatter.

The tent city that sprawled before Ren was a huge, dismal thing. A large corral for horses stood to the north of the city. The wretched smell made it obvious that horse droppings were regularly tossed into the river. Greasy cooking fires sent plumes of smoke up over the village. Most of the tents along the river were little more than ceilings of canvas with open sides or blankets propped against ladders or wooden planks. Ren hoped there were some answers to be found, but his mood worsened as he looked about. He seriously doubted that anything useful would be found in New Phlan. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Even Stolen seemed somber.

As the raft approached the bank, ten troopers stood ready to meet it. They were led by a tall knight wearing plate mail armor. The knight's crest proclaimed him to be of the Wainwright clan, but Ren had met other members of the Wainwright family and found them much more refined than this gruff-looking fellow. Before even a polite hello could be offered, the leader began bellowing orders at Ren.

"By the order of the great and noble Lord Bartholomew and the council of New Phlan, your horse must be stabled with the other mounts of the city."

The ranger didn't like the tone of this fool. Ren's patience had worn thin. He wasn't in the mood for delays, not when an entire city was missing.

Shelly came to his aid. "Lord Wainwright, you know not who you bark at. This fine gent is none other than Ren o' the Blade. He's come to help us get our city back." Ren winced at the confidence in Shelly's voice, but the man spoke well.

Shelly continued. "Back your men off, Lord, before Ren o' the Blade has to prove his name once more in the new city of Phlan." Ren opened his mouth, then closed it, waiting to see what would happen.

He couldn't tell if it was his reputation or the bold proclamations of the old trooper or maybe the stomping of his nervous war-horse that elicited the desired effect, but the ten troopers backed up. The tall knight didn't move an inch.

The leader obviously wasn't going to be pushed around, but he wasn't getting any support from his troopers. Turning to the raft, Lord Wainwright saw the ranger's big grin.

"Lord Bartholomew discovered that animals were making New Phlan a diseased place. He has ordered them all penned. Your horse will be well cared for. But if it's a fight you want, you can be well cared for, too."

Ren laughed inwardly at the tall knight's bravado. He was probably a real coward who ran from anything more than a bar brawl. But it wouldn't be very polite to cut a fellow like him in half. New Phlan would likely need every healthy defender it had.

"I have no desire for a fight," Ren answered sincerely. "But I do have something more gentlemanly to ask of a member of clan Wainwright. I fought alongside your cousins on the old walls of Phlan and found them to be heroic and brave. May I suggest that if you wish to live as long as your cousins, you explain your orders to innocent people before you deliver them? I believe it will dispose them to obeying rather than challenging you."

"My lord," the now-smiling knight said, "from the look of your two-handed sword, your chain mail, and the daggers trying to hide in your boots, I judge you haven't been innocent for quite some time."

The tall knight's men got a good laugh out of the joke. The ranger nodded in deference to Lord Wainwright's clever observation. Waving acceptance, the warrior led his mount to the makeshift corral a hundred yards away.

Ren located an empty area and took a few moments to unload his gear. He fed and watered Stolen, patted the beast, and ordered the war-horse to be behave. Stolen was the biggest horse in the corral, and the ranger departed without concern for the animal.

Ren glanced around, hating what he saw. Walking aimlessly up and down the river, the ranger could see there was little method to the arrangement of New Phlan. Three wide dirt paths spread to the east and west, but the tents along these paths formed side alleys and dead ends. Everywhere he looked, he saw people looking poor, destitute, and dirty. Phlan had been a prosperous city of many merchants. New Phlan needed a lot of help if it was even going to survive.

The city watch was in force-a good sign. At least some attempts were being made at law and order. Each squad of men was led by a knight in plate mail. From the dents and scrapes on their armor and shields, they looked to be earning their pay the hard way.

Venturing into the middle of the city, Ren found one tent a little larger and cleaner than the rest. He instantly recognized the Scales of Balance, symbol of the god Tyr, on a crest at the flap of the tent. Although Ren wasn't a worshiper of the god of justice, he knew Tarl was. The ranger entered and found three warrior priests trying to help the poor souls crowding into the tent seeking food and healing. Feeling sorry for the three overworked clerics, Ren put aside the scores of questions filling his mind and pitched in.

After several hours of distributing healing potions and food, there was a lull in the activity. One of the clerics addressed him for the first time.

"Thank you, stranger. Your help is appreciated. You aren't of our faith, are you?"

The ranger extended a hand. "My name is Ren o' the Blade. One of my friends was a priest in your service. His name was Tarl, and he lived in Phlan before the city disappeared. Do you know of him?"

"We all know Tarl," the cleric answered. His voice reflected respect for Ren's friend. "He was a tower of strength and courage in Phlan. I fought many a battle at his side. But you should speak with Brother Anton. He'll return shortly. He might be able to tell you more about what has happened in the city. In the meantime, please dine with us and stay the night."

Ren grinned. "That's an offer I can't refuse. Brother Anton was recovering from a wound during my first visit in Phlan ten years ago. I am happy to hear he is still alive. I'll return after I check on my horse at the corral."

The city was nearly dark. Ren hurried to the corral, and in no time, watered and curried Stolen, giving him an extra ration of oats. The big mount was nervous and chafing at the boredom of the corral.

"You big lout. You know you won't be stuck here long. I'll give you a good hard ride tomorrow. We've been busy the last few weeks, and there'll soon be plenty more action for you. I don't know where our friends have gone, but you and I will find them if our search takes us to the ends of Toril."

Ren shook his head as he left the enclosure, trying hard to credit his own words. If the gods had actually taken Phlan, finding his friend would be a tall order.

A giant of a man was waiting for the ranger in front of the lighted tent of Tyr. Anton had been weak and barely walking the last time Ren had seen him, years ago. Now the man was strong and robust, reaching out to hug Ren.

"It's good to see you, ranger," the warrior-cleric said with a rib-crushing hug. "Tarl and Shal aren't dead, my boy. I know that for sure, but I know little else. Come into the tent and share the evening meal with us."

Ren was barely able to contain himself. Anton just nodded and smiled, talking about the events of the day. He had traveled from tent to tent, helping families to put their lives back together.

Two of the priests of Tyr were gone on a council mission to gather trees from the forest to begin rebuilding the city. Five more of the brothers were with a larger contingent sent to quarry stone from the Dragonspine Mountains. Phlan wouldn't be Phlan without new walls to protect the city. Ren couldn't help but marvel at their optimism. They all spoke of rebuilding the city; as far as Ren could see, there was nothing to rebuild from. They were entirely starting over.

Finally, Ren could stand the suspense no longer. "Anton, what of Tarl and Shal? How do you know they aren't dead?"

"Oh, I imagine you can feel it, too. You and I hold them deep in our hearts. We would know if they died. Our hearts would know it."

Anton's tone was somber as he continued. "I have communed with Tyr about our friends and our city. Our god has graciously granted me the knowledge that Tarl is alive. Tarl was given the gift of summoning the Warhammer of Tyr. During the night the city disappeared, a small gathering of our order took the hammer on the Ceremony of Spring. We were far from the city when the storm broke and ripped Phlan from us. But the hammer was summoned right out of our midst, and Tarl was the only one among us with that power."

Ren choked at this news. "I saw him do it! It was in a dream I had over a month ago. I saw Tarl and Shal fighting for their lives after something horrible had happened to the city. Until today, I'd hoped it was only a dream." Ren was agitated, and Anton encouraged him to relate the details of his strange dream. When he had finished, Ren turned to the cleric in earnest. "I have to find them, Anton. Can you help?"

"I'll do what I can, Ren, but I can't leave Phlan. I have to help the refugees here. But I have a feeling that the answers to some of your questions lie here in the city. Keep looking, and with the aid of Tyr, you will learn the fate of your friends."

Brother Anton grew more serious as he counseled the desperate Ren. "I must warn you, brother, that what you find may well be worse than anything you have lived through." Then Anton's fatherly nature took over. "Now get some rest, boy. You'll do our friends no good if you aren't at your best."

If Ren hadn't been so worried, he would have been amused at being called "boy" by this giant of a man. The ranger was almost forty years old, and rarely thought of himself as young. But he was comforted a little by Anton's compassion. Ren eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

Up at dawn, as was his habit, the ranger helped the clerics for part of the morning, but Anton soon pushed him out of the tent.

"Ren, my lad, get out and among the people of this troubled city. Steer clear of the town guards. They're an honest lot, but they have a tough job and take their work seriously. Now out with you."

The seven-foot-tall Anton was hard to refuse. Ren sighed and left with a smile before Anton could toss him out of the tent, setting out to explore the sad city.

New Phlan could hardly be called a city-it was less than a hamlet, even though hundreds of people filled the shores of the Moonsea. Merchants hawked their wares, but without enthusiasm. Children played in the muddy dirt paths, but without energy. It was as if something had sucked the life out of the place.

Ren had fetched Stolen to give him some exercise. As he started out, a contingent of four city watchmen approached. They were led by a knight with a hawk's crest on his shield. Ren didn't recognize the heraldic emblem.

"Are you Ren o' the Blade?" the leader barked.

Ren wondered if all the town guards failed their lessons in etiquette and making friends.

"What's a simple ranger done to attract the attention of the town watch?" he responded.

"Lord Bartholomew has ordered us to find Ren o' the Blade and bring him to the council. If you are this man, come along with us."

"I'm the man you're looking for, but I have other things to do," Ren replied. "I'll try to visit the council this afternoon."

The knight looked ready to fight, but there was no such enthusiasm among the other guards. The leader fairly seethed as he responded to Ren's boldness. "I will tell lord Bartholomew all that has transpired here. You had better find yourself at the council tent this afternoon or you will be sorry this conversation ended the way it did. I will personally make sure you are sufficiently regretful." The knight spun around and pushed his way through his men.

"Another friend gone, Stolen. Some days you just can't please anyone."

Seated high on Stolen's back, the ranger waded into the river until he was far to the north of the encampment. This section had been the campgrounds for countless invading armies in the old wars. The land was a flat plane with all timber and obstructions long ago removed. The poorest of the poor now lived here, north of New Phlan. These were the people living under the sky. Only the gods knew what they would do when winter came. Frost and sickness would kill most of them.

Happy to be out of the stable, Stolen rode hard. Ren merely guided him. They traveled to the southwest, circling wide around Phlan. The ranger wanted to reach Stormy Bay before noon. The fresh air felt good after the squalor of the city.

Arriving at the bay sooner than he had expected, Ren's attention was drawn to a campfire. Two druids rose to meet him.

"Finally, you've come! The fish is almost ruined," said a tall man. He turned from Ren and bent over a campfire to examine several bass sizzling in a large pan.

The woman directed her attention to Ren. "Please don't mind him. My cousin has a passion for food. We guessed you would get here by lunchtime. I am so happy we were right."

Ren stared. He was completely surprised that these people thought they knew him, but he also stared for another reason. The woman was nothing less than gorgeous. Short in stature but with an ample figure filling her druid robes, her skin was browned from the sun and her long brown hair fell in a shower around her hips. She had a way of looking at Ren that made him strangely uncomfortable.

"I am called Ren o' the Blade," he said, feeling self-conscious. "You must be mistaking me for someone else. You couldn't have known I was going to be here. I didn't know myself until I started riding." The ranger dismounted, wanting to get a better look at these two strangers.

Stolen bowed his head to the woman, something that surprised Ren, especially since the war-horse had never been trained to do such a thing. The woman produced a huge apple from somewhere in her robes and offered it to the horse. Stolen accepted it, enamored of the woman, much to Ren's dismay.

Without looking up from his cooking fire, the other druid spoke. "Please forgive my manners for not greeting you properly." He moved a pan of fish off the fire and straightened up to face Ren. "My name is Andoralson, and this lady is my cousin, Talenthia. We have been sent to help you find Phlan and return it to its proper place. What plans do you have?"

The woman scowled at her cousin, looking exasperated. "You could wait until he's had his lunch. He doesn't even know us. We owe him an explanation, at the very least."

Ren looked back and forth at the two strangers, completely confused and not knowing what to think. The ranger couldn't decide whether to trust them, although he found himself wanting to like them.

Stolen, on the other hand, knelt in the grass near the woman. Ren sighed; his steed looked more like a wide-eyed puppy than a noble war-horse. But animals usually had a sense about such things. Beside that, the fish smelled great. Fresh cooked food was something he could appreciate. He decided to give in, at least for now.

Ren reached into Stolen's saddlebags and brought out a large flask. "Um, I think this wine from Vaasa should go well with your fish," he said, still not quite comfortable.

"Just the thing to complete the meal," Talenthia said with a smile. She produced three wondrously crafted wooden chalices from a wicker hamper.

Serving up the fish on huge leaves, Andoralson told their story. "We've been sent here by our god, Sylvanus. Until now, my cousin and I have been traveling Faerun looking for a forest to call our own. But in many recent dreams, the plight of Phlan was made known to us. Phlan's disappearance has disturbed the equity of nature. Sylvanus tells us you have the best chance of restoring Phlan and restoring the balance."

Ren was still somewhat stunned. Talenthia handed him a leaf loaded with fish, winking at the ranger. Her robes parted slightly as she moved, and Ren noticed green chain mail under her gown. How the woman could show such a fine figure weighted down under chain mail, Ren couldn't guess. But he didn't mind speculating.

The ranger held his fish in his hands, wondering what to say. "I–I don't understand what you're talking about," he stammered. "I have no plan. I only want to find out what's happened to my friends."

"But we believe the evil gods have stolen Phlan. We must do what we can to set things right." Talenthia's voice was pleading.

The last thing Ren wanted was to attract the attention of angry gods. "I'm a ranger, and I love the land as much as you do, but I care nothing for the affairs of gods. Besides, I prefer to work alone."

This last was said in deliberate rebuff to the pair before him. The man appeared to be a capable adventurer, but Ren didn't like his lecturing tone. The woman was far too distracting to be anything but trouble on the trail.

"I don't believe you have the proper frame of mind, ranger," Andoralson said. He savored every bite of fish as if it were some exotic food. For some reason, Ren found this annoying.

"What my cousin means is that we have been ordered to help you. We only want to restore nature's balance. You can understand that, can't you?" Talenthia was difficult for Ren to resist, but resist he continued to do.

The ranger wiped his hands on the grass. "I want to thank you both for the delicious meal, but I must go visit with the town council. I appreciate your offer, but you and your god will have to find Phlan without me. I don't have any plans right now, but I like to move as opportunities arise. You two would just slow me down."

The ranger gave them the friendliest smile he could muster, mounted Stolen, and waved good-bye.

Talenthia watched until Ren and his horse became specks in the distance. "Wasn't he handsome, Andoralson? I'm so glad Sylvanus sent us to help him."

"Talenthia, why must you always flirt? If they're tall and have a little gray hair, you fall all over them." Her cousin was obviously irritated, but he attempted to put his feelings aside. "He appears very confident. I like the fact that he didn't jump at our offer. We obviously have to prove ourselves to this one. The town council session ought to do it, don't you think?"

"Just what we need, Cousin. We should pack our gear and get moving." The woman's eyes twinkled. "And don't act as if you've never flirted before!" Her cousin blushed. The druids spoke a magical syllable and were instantly transformed into huge golden eagles. Lifting into the air, they set out for the council. They would arrive there long before Ren.

The ranger was deeply troubled. He tried to put the pair of druids out of his thoughts, but the woman's figure kept slipping into his mind. Gods, she was beautiful.

"Stolen, let's get back to the tents. I want to be in New Phlan long before the sun sets!"

The huge horse galloped across the grasslands at its best speed. Its massive, rippling muscles tirelessly carried the pair across the land.

Stolen slowed as they approached the river. Ren urged him to leap into the water. Rider and mount landed with a gigantic splash. Both enjoyed the cool relief.

Ren wiped the sweaty foam off Stolen. "What a great beast you are," Ren told the animal as he cleaned the horse in the waters of the river. He led Stolen to the bank. The horse balked slightly when it saw that it was headed for the corral, but Ren's urging got the animal moving.

Heading for the gate, the ranger sensed more than saw another group of guards waiting among the tents. He could have avoided them, but such cowardly behavior wasn't his way. He preferred direct confrontations. He threw his saddle and other gear onto the pile of equipment at the side of the corral and handed the stable boy a silver coin.

"Take good care of my horse and feed him an extra ration of oats tonight. There is a chance I won't be visiting him for a while."

Ren saw the boy's eyes widen as he looked at the coin and then beyond the ranger. The fighter turned to face several knights and a horde of town watchmen.

"Ren o' the Blade. You will come with us to Lord Bartholomew. My commander didn't say what condition you had to be in, and we would all welcome a fight." The rough leader of the knights gripped his sword eagerly.

"Am I charged with a crime?" Ren asked evenly. Some of the guards had surrounded him, but they kept their distance. A crowd of tent-dwellers had formed around the entire group. Some showed open hostility toward the guards, but most of them just looked on, curious.

"Resisting arrest, refusing an order from a councilman, obstructing justice, and a hundred others. Besides, I don't really need a charge to pummel you senseless, ranger. How do you want it?"

"I'll come quietly," Ren responded. Then he raised his voice to all the people gathered nearby. "You all know me. I fought on the walls of Phlan and killed the bronze dragon that plagued your city. I do not deserve to be treated like a common thief. I will come now, but I will take the hand of the first man who tries to bind me." With this, Ren started walking. In a heartbeat, a faintly glowing dagger appeared in his hand for all to see. In the next moment, the dagger disappeared. The simple sleight of hand was enough to impress many of the onlookers and several of the guards.

"We don't need to bind you," the lead knight called out. It seemed to be an attempt to counteract Ren's statement. "My men and I are more than capable of bringing you to justice."

Ren strolled along, head high. He smirked, wondering who was bringing whom, but kept silent.

Deep in the heart of ramshackle New Phlan, Ren was ushered to a mounded palisade of wood and earth. What the ranger saw was a keep of sorts, meant to be a last ditch defense if the tent city was attacked. Ren was impressed. He was ordered into the center of the compound, where he discovered a large white tent. Inside, he met the new council of Phlan.

"Why has this ranger been brought to me wearing weapons?" The speaker was a tall, thin knight in expensive, gleaming armor. He was obviously nobility, and Ren knew he faced Lord Bartholomew. The other councilmen were seated around a large table. Ren saw Anton sitting in the tenth councilman's seat, and for the first time since the encounter with the guards, he found some joy in the impossible situation. The cleric of Tyr would not fail the ranger.

"I wasn't brought to you, Lord. I came myself. I am wearing my weapons because I was not made aware of any charge against me. Has the council of Phlan changed so much that an innocent man must stand like a criminal, unarmed, before them?"

"What I have heard of you seems to be true, Ren o' the Blade. I am Lord Bartholomew, first councilman of New Phlan. My city needs brave heroes like yourself to help rebuild. I would make you one of my highest lords."

"I didn't come here to become a gate guard of a town with no gates. I have come for information regarding my two friends. Maybe you have heard of them-the warrior cleric Tarl and the wizard Shal Bal?"

"Bah, they were of old Phlan. The gods took the city for their own reasons. We have to think of the future. We have to build New Phlan into a greater city than the old one ever was. Now, are you with us or against us?"

Ren was stunned. This man was actually ready to forget Phlan. Lord Bartholomew was too pushy for his taste. This first councilman was a far cry from the type of leader the new city would need.

Anton tried to signal Ren to remain calm, but the ranger didn't care right now who he offended. "I'm going after my friends wherever the quest takes me. I will not be stopped."

"Stopped? I will do much more than stop you if I must, ranger. You can be chained to a work crew. You can be sold to serve on a merchant ship. I will have you working for Phlan or-"

"Have you ever seen an enraged squirrel attack a wood cutter?" a deep voice cut through the tirade.

"Or have you seen what happens when dock rats get unbearably hungry?" said an enchantingly feminine voice.

Two druids had slipped through the throng of guards as if they didn't exist, gliding up to Ren. The brown robes they had worn earlier had been replaced with dazzling white robes. There seemed to be a pale green aura to the fabric, but the robes were so white they were hard to look at.

"Rats, squirrels, what are you talking about? Guards, remove these-"

"Oh, I wouldn't try that," said Talenthia. "We druids have a way with animals. Or aren't you aware of such powers?"

A huge black rat, bigger than a man's boot, leaped up onto the chamber table, and seven more surrounded the first councilman.

"Please let me explain before my cousin turns the rats on this entire tent. I am Andoralson, a druid and worshiper of Sylvanus. This is Talenthia. If you harm our friend Ren or do anything to hinder him, you will be amazed and terrified at what happens. The animals of the forest will prevent you from taking the lumber you need. The mules you drive to bring back the stone of the Dragonspine Mountains will refuse to budge. The fish of the sea will never enter your nets. Have I left anything out, Talenthia? Ren?" After a moment of stunned silence in the tent, the druid added, "The three of us will be leaving now."

Anton was the only councilman looking at all pleased. The cleric made no attempt to conceal the big grin on his face. He gave the three a wave of encouragement.

"No, I think that covers everything, Andoralson. We must be going. We may be in town for a few more days. See that these fine, strong troops don't bother us, Lord Bartholomew. Ren, come with us." Talenthia took the surprised ranger by the arm and led him away. As they left the tent, she whispered, "I am so glad everything worked out. Things could have gotten messy. Now what do we do?"

"I don't have the slightest idea," Ren said, looking into her deep gray eyes. He couldn't remember a time when he had been more confused.