Tymora's luck

ACT FOUR SCENE 4

After discovering that their teleport, dimensional doorways, and magical portal spells all failed within the chamber, the bard and the two goddesses set about to explore their prison from top to bottom. The fusion chamber was filled with the chaotic matter that Tymora had said was very similar to that found in the plane of Limbo. Both goddesses could manipulate the matter into an organized form with a mere thought, and once they did so, the matter stayed fixed in place. With much concentration, Joel found that he, too, could manipulate the matter, but the moment he ceased concentrating on it, it reverted to a swirling chaos of earth, air, water, and fire that threatened to choke, drown, or burn him unless one of the goddesses re-formed it for him.

By forcing the chaotic matter to the side, forming vast spaces of air only, the prisoners puzzled out that the fusion chamber was actually a large pyramid nearly a hundred feet high, with a square base over a hundred feet on each side. The temple that Beshaba had created actually took up very little of the space within the fusion chamber. The boundaries of the chamber were silvery, shimmering magical walls of force. The prisoners could find no doors, so they began testing the nearest wall. They smashed at it with weaponry, magic missiles, lightning bolts, and fireballs. They rubbed at it with water and acid and lye created out of the chaos matter. They chanted ancient spells of disintegration at it and spells to dispel it. They cursed it and blessed it. Nothing they tried seemed to penetrate or even weaken the barrier.

Tymora and Beshaba began exploring every inch of the walls in greater detail, looking for a flaw they could work on. Because the bard was unable to travel safely through the Limbo-like chaos outside the region the goddesses had formed, they left him in Beshaba's temple. There Joel practiced manipulating the chaotic matter with his mind, feeling much like a child who'd been given a lump of clay to play with while his parents went about their adult business.

The bard found that fields of grass and groves of trees were the easiest to create, while rooms took a great deal more concentration. He challenged himself by creating rooms he remembered well, like his grandmother's parlor, the mess hall of the barding college he'd attended as a boy, and the tavern where he first met Finder and spent a long night discussing music and art.

His creations were nowhere near as organized or detailed as the goddesses'; nonetheless, it was an amazingly powerful sensation manipulating the chaos into order. Concentrating proved to be taxing work, however, and Joel was forced to retreat periodically to the temple so he could rest without thinking.

As he played with the Limbo matter, Joel began to recognize a certain common denominator in each the environments he created-the window. It appeared in each of the interiors Joel created, although he was certain there was no window in the real mess hall or the tavern. He tried hard to envision the space without the window, but it would not go away.

The temple Beshaba had created had a tunnel shaft, and the dungeon that Beshaba's mind had formed without even consciously thinking about it had a window. Joel concentrated on forming the hull of the spelljammer he'd ridden in, which definitely had no windows, but his creation was marred by a ragged hole in the hull. Something, or someone, was keeping the Limbo matter from completely surrounding him.

Joel could think of only one reason for the opening: Someone outside the fusion chamber wanted a window in order to watch the prisoners.

Joel imagined some sacks of sand along the hull of the imaginary spelljammer and climbed atop them so he could peer through the hole. A dim, rosy light shone through.

In the dim light, on the other side of the spelljammer hull, Joel could make out what looked like a stone altar, adorned with glowing crystals and sparking balls of glass. Strewn about the table were varying tokens of luck both good and bad-a horseshoe, a luck stone, a four-leaf clover, a broken mirror, a new knife, and a black cat curled into a ball, sleeping. Suspended magically above the table were three items: an old coin and a pink rose, both of which glowed as bright as a lightning flash, and a blue crystal sphere.

The space beyond the stone altar looked like a grassy clearing beneath a bright red tent large enough to hold a wedding party.

The hole in the hull seemed to Joel like a magical portal out of the fusion chamber. Joel tried to put his hand through the hole, but found his way blocked by an invisible magical barrier. Unlike the shimmering walls of the fusion chamber, the barrier that blocked the portal was not completely impenetrable. Joel poked at it with his dagger, and in doing so discovered that nonliving objects could penetrate through the magical opening. Standing this close to the hole, he became aware of a faint clanking sound. Then he heard voices, muffled, he suspected, by the magical barrier.

In his excitement, Joel's concentration on the hull ceased, and he was surrounded again by chaos. Staving off panic, he swam back through the swirling matter until he reached Beshaba's temple. He coughed up the water and dirt he had inadvertently breathed in and smacked out the tiny patches of flame dancing in his clothing and hair.

Once he'd caught his breath, the bard concentrated on the tunnel near the ceiling. He reformed the chaos matter so the shaft was considerably larger, reaching down to the floor. In doing so, he uncovered another magical portal through which he could look out of the fusion chamber. Oddly enough, this portal opened to the exact same spot as the hole in the spelljammer hull-above the altar in the tent. Apparently only portals to the altar functioned. Just like the one in the spelljammer hull, this portal was blocked by a magical barrier through which Joel could push his dagger but not his hand.

Joel listened carefully for the voices again and was rewarded when he heard someone say, "My lord, I do not recommend that you speak with them. It will only cause them unnecessary anxiety, which is likely to affect your ability to control the spell."

The voice was deep and familiar. Joel was pretty sure it was the same voice that had ordered Beshaba to be placed in the fusion chamber.

The second speaker's voice was also deep, but softer than the first, making it hard for Joel to distinguish the words.

"… would think… anxiety… happening to them would be worse… ease the transition… be cowardly… Nothing will alter my will" were all the words Joel caught.

Suddenly two tall male figures appeared in the doorway of the tent. One was particularly handsome, with the body of a tall, slender, youthful athlete and fiery red-orange hair. He was dressed in a tunic of opalescent reds and golds. He could only be the god Lathander, Joel thought. The other figure was even taller, with hair, eyebrows, and beard of living flames. His robe shimmered with the colors of fire. Joel guessed this was the mysterious Sirrion of the Flowing Flame. Each god possessed an aura so bright that Joel stood blinking like an owl in daylight.

"What is he doing in the fusion chamber?" Lathander demanded, pointing directly at the bard.

Immediately Joel dived behind the cover of the altar.

"In our haste to place Beshaba into the fusion chamber," Joel heard Sirrion reply, "I neglected to have your servants search her. She must have smuggled him in as a smaller creature. It will make no difference to our spell. He is a mere mortal and cannot affect the outcome."

"But he will die in the chaos of the creation," Lathander objected.

"I warned you, my lord, that some sacrifices would have to be made," Sirrion said. A slight impatient whine had crept into his voice. "No," Lathander insisted, "not one such as this. He is the priest of another god. He must be taken out. I sense him hiding there behind that altar. Open the portal so the guardinals can fetch him."

"My lord," Sirrion objected, "it's too risky. Lady Beshaba and Lady Tymora are both conscious. They may sense the exit and seize the opportunity to escape."

Then you must drain enough power from them so that they become unconscious again," Lathander ordered.

"That could delay the spell by nearly another day," Sirrion declared. "Selune's suspicions have already been aroused because you placed Tymora where she cannot sense her presence. If we don't hurry, Selune may enter this place unbidden and discover our plan. She isn't likely to agree with your decision. She may find a way to thwart us."

"And what exactly is this plan, Lord Lathander?" Tymora asked suddenly in an angry tone. "I was doubtful of Beshaba's claim that you were involved in this, but I see you have betrayed my trust." Lady Luck pointed to the gold coin suspended above the stone altar outside the fusion chamber. "You have drained my power from me by using the power key I gave to one of your priests as a favor to you."

Joel peered out from behind the altar. Tymora and Beshaba had just flown into the temple. They stood on either side of the tunnel window Joel had enlarged and glared out of the fusion chamber at their captors.

"Lady Tymora, Lady Beshaba, welcome to Elysium," Lathander said with a low bow. "Please forgive me for your abduction and imprisonment, but it is for a good cause, I assure you."

"I don't give a damn about your 'good cause,' " Beshaba retorted. "Free me this instant, you arrogant peacock."

Lathander gave Beshaba a coldly polite smile and said, "I did not expect you to care, Lady Beshaba. But I will explain our plan for Lady Tymora's sake. Please feel free to listen."

Lady Beshaba scowled at the Morninglord.

"Do go on, Lord Lathander," Tymora said with mock sarcasm. "Some time ago," Lathander began, "Lord Sirrion petitioned me to become a patron of an important cause. He seemed to feel that there was an imbalance among the gods of Faerun that, if left unchecked, could lead to bloody wars on Toril."

"Sirrion isn't worshiped on Faerun," Beshaba said. "Why should he care?"

"Lord Sirrion," Lathander explained, "has reason to believe that an imbalance of good on Faerun would lead to an exodus of evil, which would end up on Krynn, where he does have worshipers. Krynn is already beset with much evil, and Lord Sirrion is anxious to avoid the influx of any more. From the first I found his arguments in favor of his plan quite compelling, but I didn't agree to sponsor him immediately. I am not as rash as many of the gods believe me to be."

"Please get to the point, Lathander," Tymora snapped. "My attention tends to wander when I'm a captive audience."

Joel peered around another corner of the altar so that he could view Lathander and Sirrion. Sirrion had started to manipulate the crystals and glass balls on the altar just outside the fusion chamber.

"Lord Sirrion seemed to feel that your church, Lady Tymora, was about to face a grave conflict with that of Lady Beshaba's, which would lead to horrendous wars. The only way to prevent this catastrophe," Lathander said resignedly, "was to bring the two of you, and hence your followers, together. To accomplish this, you need to be united once again in the form of Tyche, the goddess you once were."

Beshaba guffawed loudly. "Have you lost your wits?" she asked Lathander.

"Lathander," Tymora said with horror, "Tyche is dead. You can't mean you're going to try to resurrect her."

"No, Lady Tymora. Tyche is not dead. She lives in you and your sister, and when the two of you are fused into one with the aid of this machine and the power of our magic, Tyche will be whole again. Toril will remain at peace, and Krynn will not be disturbed by our troubles."

"But only at our expense," Tymora declared. "Lathander, I am happy as I am. I do not want to be united with Beshaba. You have no right to force this upon us."

"Yes. For a long time, that is what kept me from supporting Sirrion's plan. But then I was left to dwell on a matter of equal importance." The Morninglord looked away from Tymora and stared off into space with a haunted look. "An ancient wrong will be righted by this plan," he said. "Tyche was a great goddess. She should never have been destroyed. To this day, I blame myself for that tragedy. Had I not started the Dawn Cataclysm, Moander might never have corrupted Tyche, and she would yet live."

"It's a little late to think of that now," Beshaba said accusingly. "You tried to claim power that was not yours. Only a fool would be surprised the other gods of Faerun chose to war against you. By the time the Dawn Cataclysm ended, your allies had suffered more losses than the enemies you hoped to contain in your bid for leadership."

"You may come to regret this move as well," Tymora warned.

"I'm sorry you are unwilling, my lady," Lathander said, "but believe me, this is for the greater good. It will serve both Toril and Krynn as well as restore Tyche."

"Not to mention that it will help you assuage your guilt," Beshaba growled. "You're a complete fool, Lathander. It's no wonder the others wouldn't accept your leadership, nor that Tyche left you."

"Soon, Lady Beshaba," the Morninglord replied softly, "you will be free from the spite and malice that enslaves your heart. You will become happier and more beloved than you have ever been. Although I realize you would never agree, you, even more than Lady Tymora, should appreciate what I am about to do for you."

"Hear me, Lathander," Beshaba vowed. "If any part of me truly remains in Tyche, she will claw out your eyes the first chance she gets."

"Lathander, Selune will never let you get away with this," Tymora said fiercely. "You cannot hope to keep her from discovering this. She is your ally. She is aware of all that happens wherever you have followers, even here in your realm. Even if you've renounced your alliance, Finder's priest is here, and Finder is an ally of Selune's as well. Your scheme is already uncovered."

"Not really," Lathander said. "With Sirrion's aid, I have created a dark zone about this machine that makes it impossible for anyone, even a god, to sense what goes on within. Besides, Selune is far too busy searching for the elusive Iyachtu Xvim and helping keep your church on its feet in your absence."

"So you are in league with Xvim," Beshaba declared.

"Hardly," Lathander replied with a tone that suggested he found the idea extremely distasteful.

"Then how did he know when to attack my realm?" Beshaba demanded.

"That was an unfortunate mistake on my part, Lady Beshaba," Sirrion said. "The priests of Xvim had stolen one of your power keys from your temple in Waterdeep. The minion I sent to purchase it said far more than he should have, and the priests of Xvim figured out the rest. Thus, soon after rumors of Tymora's weakness began to spread, Xvim, realizing you, too, must also be weakened, took advantage of the knowledge to attack you. Unfortunately for him I had not yet drained as much power from you as I had from Tymora. He fled from your wrath and is hiding in Baator."

"And why is it necessary for you to drain away our power?" Beshaba asked.

"First, so that we could capture you," Lathander explained. "Second, so that the fusion chamber could handle the job of uniting the two of you. It's an ingenious device, but hardly up to the task of containing and fusing that much godly power. We returned some of your power so you would regain consciousness and I could explain to you what was about to happen. Now, however, we must drain you again so that you will once more fall unconscious and we can remove the bard from the fusion chamber. He couldn't possibly survive the fusion process."

"What's going to happen to all the power you drain from us?" Tymora asked bitterly.

"It's being transferred into the blue crystal sphere," Lathander said. "It was the last power key Tyche ever made."

"Yes, I remember," Tymora snapped. "When you and Beshaba are united, all the power will be restored to you," Lathander promised. "You will be more powerful than ever."

"Interesting," Beshaba said. Suddenly a great spear appeared in her hand. She drew it back and pointed it at Tymora, who was so engrossed with glaring at Lathander and Sirrion that she didn't seem to notice.

"Look out!" Joel cried out as Beshaba hurled the weapon. In the nick of time, he threw himself at Lady Luck, knocking her out of the spear's path.

"Beshaba, what are you doing?" Lathander shouted.

Tymora leapt to her feet and took cover with Joel behind a large shield she created from the chaos matter.

"If Tymora is dead, Lathander," Beshaba replied, "obviously you cannot shackle me to her side." She addressed Tymora. "You would do well to follow my lead, Sister. Soon we will be too weak to act on our own behalf. If you destroy me, so be it. I am willing to risk my life to spite this arrogant peacock. We are now at war," Beshaba declared. She pointed one hand at Tymora, and a bolt of lightning crashed down just to the left of Tymora.

Tymora responded by conjuring a magical dagger and hurling it at the Maid of Misfortune. As Beshaba ducked, Tymora grabbed Joel's hand and fled from the temple, flying into the chaos.