Tim Waggoner - Forge of the Mindslayers

Diran frowned. He knew something had happened, but he wasn't quite sure what. He'd been having a dream in which a silver flame burned bright and warm in the darkness, a flame that called to him in a soundless voice to come toward it… to come home. It had been such a pleasant dream that he was almost sorry he'd awakened.

He felt weak as a kitten, and when he tried to sit up, he needed Asenka's help. He looked around, trying to remember what had happened before he'd lost consciousness. He saw Hinto grinning at him, and behind the halfling stood a warforged whose body was covered by colorful crystalline shards. For some reason, Diran thought the shards should be glowing, but no light came from them now. The warforged's back was to him, and he stood with his arms held out in front of his face, as if trying to ward off some sort of attack. The construct stood motionless, and Diran had the impression that at the moment he contained no more life than a statue. He didn't think the warforged was dead, but why he should have that impression, he wasn't sure.

He turned to look seaward and saw Tresslar rise to a sitting position farther down the dock. The artificer grimaced and rubbed his temples. Diran had a vague memory of healing Tresslar, but he couldn't recall the specific injury that the man had suffered. Whatever it had been, it appeared the artificer would be all right, and for that Diran was grateful. Another memory came back to him then, an image of three men standing on the shore, watching as… as the warforged attacked.

Diran's full memory returned to him in a sudden rush, and he looked at the shore where Aldarik Cathmore had been standing, alongside an orc and a lean man Diran took to be a kalashtar, but no one stood there now. Cathmore was gone.

A splashing sound to his right drew Diran's attention, and he turned to see Ghaji haul himself out of the water and onto the dock.

"Sorry it took me so long to get back, but I dropped my axe, and the damn thing sank to the bottom." The half-orc looked around. "So… what did I miss?"

Thank you for allowing us to bring the warforged to the Sea Scorpions' barracks," Diran said.

"Baron Mahir ordered me to conduct a full investigation into the warforged's attack," Asenka said, then she smiled. "Besides, it's the least I can do for you after you healed my people who were harmed during the construct's rampage."

"Why are we doing anything with him?" Ghaji said. "Aside from disassembling him, that is. He nearly killed you, Diran."

"Actually, I believe he did kill me, but then he changed his mind and returned me to life."

Diran gazed down upon the warforged. The construct lay upon a table in the barracks' common room, eyes dark, body frozen in the same position it had held on the dock: arms held up as if to ward off an invisible assault. Diran's companions-with the exception of Makala, who still slumbered aboard the Zephyr-stood around the table looking at the creature that had come close to slaying them all.

"Solus," Hinto said.

Everyone turned to look at the halfling.

Hinto explained without taking his eyes off the warforged. "That's his name: Solus."

"How could you possibly know that?" Tresslar asked.

Hinto shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

Tresslar snorted. "Nonsense."

"I'm inclined to believe you, Hinto." Diran examined the warforged's injuries more closely. His right arm was singed from the fire caused by Ghaji's axe, and the weapon had cut out a small wedge of wood as well, but by far the most serious damage had occurred to Solus's head. The explosion, whatever its cause, had blasted a fist-sized hole in the warforged's forehead, but where such an injury would've revealed ravaged brain tissue in a fully organic being, only solid rock was visible within Solus's head.

Hinto looked up at Diran, a worried expression on his face, but a hopeful look in his eyes. "You're a priest. Can't you do anything for him?"

"I'm sorry, my friend, but my abilities don't extend to healing damage done to constructs. Such work is the province of artificers."

Everyone turned to Tresslar.

"Don't look at me!" the artificer said.

"You told me once that you used to help repair the warforged that served on the Seastar!" Hinto protested.

"Yes, but I merely patched over a few holes, filled in some cracks, occasionally refit an eye or finger… but this-" Tresslar gestured toward the huge divot in Solus's forehead-"is another matter entirely. Such damage would require the attention of an artificer who specializes in warforged… assuming this construct can be revived at all."

"We don't have a specialist," Diran said. "We have you. You admit that you worked on warforged during the time you sailed with Erdis Cai. You must have had the opportunity to increase your knowledge during your years at Dreadhold. Surely there were some warforged among the prison populace."

"A few," Tresslar admitted. "Though warforged tend to commit fewer crimes than others." He leaned over Solus to examine more closely the warforged's head injury. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Warforged's internal workings are very different from ours. Their minds aren't physical things, and their personalities don't reside in organs like our brains. Their… selves, for lack of a better term, exist as an intricate matrix of mystical energies."

"It sounds like you're speaking of souls," Yvka said.

Tresslar shrugged. "If you like. The point is that while an injury like this-" he gestured to Solus's forehead-"would kill you or me, it isn't necessarily fatal to a warforged."

"So you can fix him!" Hinto said.

"I didn't say that!" Tresslar snapped. "I've never seen a warforged like this before." The artificer paused, and when he spoke next, his tone was apologetic. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"That's not the point!" Ghaji said. His voice was tight, and his complexion a darker green than usual, the equivalent of a human's face turning red with anger. "Why would we even attempt to repair him? We slay monsters; we don't nurse them back to health!"

Hinto turned to Ghaji, "He's not a monster!" The halfing's jaw jutted out in defiance. "He's just confused and afraid, but you wouldn't know what that's like, would you?" Hinto turned to regard the entire group. "None of you know!" He paused, and then softly added, "Not like I do." The little pirate gazed down at Solus with sympathy in his eyes then reached out and patted the construct's stone hand.

Diran looked at Hinto, concerned. It appeared their halfling friend had been more affected by his encounter with Solus than they'd realized. Diran wondered what long-term effects, if any, Hinto might suffer, and he decided to keep a close eye on the halfling for the time being.

"There's another matter to discuss," Yvka said. "Diran, you saw Cathmore watching from the shore as Solus attacked you."

Diran nodded. "Along with an orc mercenary known to Ghaji, and a kalashtar that I didn't recognize."

"Obviously, Cathmore learned of your presence in Perhata," Yvka said, "most likely from the orc, since he confronted Ghaji last night. I'd say it's safe to assume that Cathmore directed Solus to slay Diran, along with anyone else who happened to get in the way." The elf woman looked down at Solus's immobile form, greed shining in her gaze. "The question is how Cathmore came to control such a powerful creature as this-and if there are any more of them."

Diran didn't need to be psychic himself to know what Yvka was thinking. While she'd been of great help to them during their encounter with Erdis Cai, as an operative of the Shadow Network, her first loyalty lay with her employers. A construct like Solus, one possessed of vast psionic abilities, would be of great interest to the Shadow Network. The secret of his construction, and more importantly, how to make others like him, would be priceless to them.