Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(130)

But a greater rumbling came forth again, from the primordial’s room. Knowing that it wasn’t his god-beast speaking, knowing the sound to be ominous, the wizard ran again for the small archway.

But he fell back with a cry as the river rushed forth from that corridor, pouring into the forge room. And no normal river this, for as it spread into the room, giant humanoid forms broke free of it and charged to challenge the fire elementals. The water elementals fearlessly attacked their foes, extinguishing the small fiery mites with a single splashing stomp.

Brack’thal watched as one great water elemental faced a gigantic fire beast. Without fear or hesitation, the watery beast threw itself against the creature of fire, which roared in protest—Brack’thal felt its agony clearly.

A tremendous burst of steam replaced them both, the two bodies mingling to disastrous results. More so for the fire elemental, the wizard realized. The joining wrought steam, and from the steam would come anew the magic of the Plane of Water.

Brack’thal cried out and threw himself against the wall just beside the archway. More and more watery beasts came forth, sloshing and splashing and rushing into the fire.

Finally it let up, the battle raging throughout the forge room, and Brack’thal heard again the voice of his god-beast, and this time it was a cry of pain.

The wizard ran into the corridor and stumbled out into the chamber beyond, right to the edge of the primordial’s pit.

He noted immediately that the swirl of water around the sides of that deep well had diminished greatly, and he glanced back to the forge room, understanding then that many of the elementals previously holding back the primordial had come forth to meet the great challenge.

Water poured down from the ceiling above, raining into the pit, and steam obscured his view.

“Now,” he bade the primordial. “You must come forth now.”

He reached his thoughts through his ruby band, sending them to the primordial, bidding it to leap from its captivity.

He heard the bubbling below, and he fell back with a cry, and just in time, for the primordial leaped, or tried to, as the remaining elementals reached their watery limbs out to block it.

A small burst of rock and lava got through, lifting up over the edge of the pit to splash down on the floor right where Brack’thal had been standing.

For a few heartbeats, the wizard believed he had been betrayed. His ring might have protected him from the heat of that stony vomit, but the weight of it would surely have crushed him. Had this god-beast spat at him to pound the life out of him?

His confusion became curiosity a moment later, though, when that splattered lava reformed and regrouped, and stood up on thick rock legs, thrice his height. The drow wizard’s eyes sparkled in reflections of the monstrosity, the lava elemental, a creature of tremendous strength and magical power.

It stalked over to stand towering above the wizard, and how small and vulnerable Brack’thal felt at that terrifying moment. He sucked in his breath, fearing it to be the last he would ever draw.

Tiago and Gol’fanin sat against the corridor wall many twists and turns away from the forge room. Other drow milled around, most gasping for breath, or grimacing against the sting of multiple burns.

Tiago pulled back the hood of his piwafwi, a very powerful cloak indeed, as it had been enchanted in the magical chambers of House Baenre. The young Baenre had not a mark on him, and thanks to his quick actions and the blacksmith’s own enchanted garments, Gol’fanin had come through unscathed, as well.

More important to both of them, Orbbcress and Vidrinath, the scroll, and the djinni bottle had survived and now lay at Gol’fanin’s side, covered in a thick blanket.

“We were to abandon the forge anyway,” he said to his companion. “Let the Shadovar deal with this new intrusion.”

“If the primordial has broken free, the entire power of Netheril will not put it back,” the old crafter replied. “The forge of Gauntlgrym is lost to us.”

Calls of “Steam!” filled the area, echoing from the corridors leading back to the forge room.

“Perhaps Gauntlgrym has awakened to the threat,” Gol’fanin offered, and he and Tiago stood up and started away.

“What has happened?” came a cry from the other way, from Berellip Xorlarrin as she and the other House nobles rushed down the hallway, many other drow beside them, and a few of Yerrininae’s driders marching in rear guard behind them.

“A major breach,” Tiago replied. “The forge room was overwhelmed by flames and lava and creatures of the Plane of Fire.”

Jearth rode his lizard right past the young Baenre and down the corridor leading back to the forge room, rushing out of sight.

“Where is Brack’thal?” Ravel asked, and the look he tossed at Tiago made it clear that he hoped his brother was still in the room, preferably dead.

“You tell me,” Tiago replied, his voice thick with intrigue, for all of them were surely thinking that Brack’thal, broken and angry, might have had a hand in this disaster. “I’ve not seen him.”

“Find him!” Berellip snapped at the nearby commoner drow, and they nearly fell over each other as they started scrambling away.

“We lost a small group of bugbears, all of the goblins in the room, and a few drow as well, I fear,” said the young Baenre, but his casual tone belied his claim that he feared any such thing. In fact, he didn’t care. Gol’fanin had survived, the recipe had survived, and all the pieces and ingredients needed to finish Lullaby and Spiderweb had survived. Did anything else really matter?