Thomas Reid - The Emerald Scepter

Pilos could see a number of high priests frowning, for his claim that the ends would justify the means did not sit well with them. He understood that even before he began, and he did not expect sympathy from them in that regard. Shrugging off their disapproval for the moment, he continued.

"This man, this leader among leaders," the Abreeant said, emphasizing his words with demonstrative pointing toward Lavant, "is guilty of the manipulation of many people, including the temple clergy itself. He has a powerful faction loyal to him, and I daresay he has the political clout to wriggle free of these charges, but I say he does not deserve his high seat!"

The chamber erupted in much shouting at those words, some supporting Pilos's assertions and others vehemently denouncing them. Lavant's face turned a bright hue of purple as he gave Pilos the most malevolent stare the young priest had ever seen from any man.

"Order! Order, I say!" Grand Trabbar Perolin shouted. The chamber grew quiet once more. "Please finish your remarks, Abreeant," he said, perhaps a bit sternly.

Pilos swallowed and nodded, wondering if he had pushed too far. For an Abreeant to call for abdication of the Grand Syndar…

It was too late for second thoughts, Pilos knew. "I conclude with this. The depth of this man's dishonesty seems to know no limits. I would not put it past him to be in some way responsible for the outbreak of the plague in Reth!" Pilos knew that was far-fetched, but in an unsettling way, it seemed to tie everything together, explain why everything had happened the way it did. He just hadn't yet figured out a motive. So he threw it in, figuring he was already hip-deep in trouble if the council didn't see things his way.

Might as well go all out, he had decided.

The chamber was a cacophony of shouting once more as high priests debated with one another over the absurdity or plausibility of Pilos's final statements. Pilos stood still at last, waiting expectantly. When the council chamber was silent once more, all eyes turned to Lavant.

The obese priest looked decidedly uncomfortable, but he stood to address the assembly with as smooth and as stoic a face as ever. "Dignifying such outrageous claims as this whoreson has made is beneath me, but obviously, there is some truth in what he says, insofar as he believes it to be so. It is true that certain events have unfolded in a favorable way, both for me personally and for this temple, but to go so far as to say that I was deceptive in my endeavors is laughable. Many of the points he raises are pure conjecture, with no substantive proof to back them. To bring the woman Lobra Pharaboldi and submit her to further questioning would be useless, for I have met with her myself-as Pilos so vehemently has asserted-and I can assure you she is quite delusional. The things she has apparently claimed about my involvement with her House's affairs are simply false.

"However," he continued, raising his voice to be heard over the muttering that began anew in the gallery, "in light of the questions that have been raised, I will in good conscience remove myself from these deliberations and allow you to conduct them to their conclusion without me. If you see fit to accept this fool's words as an accurate portrayal of the truth, then find me guilty and charge me. If, however, you feel you can trust that everything I do is done for the glory of Waukeen, and that I would still make an able and energetic leader of her works, then I would humbly consider remaining as Grand Syndar."

With that, Lavant stepped down from the dais and strode purposefully across the room. All around him, the noise of debate rose again, until someone shouted for Lavant's arrest. Lavant refused to stop walking even after several guards blocked his path, and only when they forcibly restrained him, amidst ear-splitting chaos within the chamber, did he begin to break down and struggle, a look of genuine fright on his face.

As the guards who had been assigned to watch over the five companions on trial began to release them from their bonds, Pilos looked over at his companions. Horial nodded to him approvingly, and Edilus actually smiled.

"Well done, lad," Horial said, clapping the young priest on the shoulder. "Fine speechmaking. You should consider becoming an orator for the temple."

Pilos started to respond, but the noise of the chamber suddenly shifted, becoming more frantic, more desperate. Pilos looked up and saw that everyone was pointing where Lavant and his enforced escort had been standing.

Lavant had disappeared.

Waukeen, Vambran pleaded, dazed by the enormity of the creature slithering toward him. What in the bloody Nine Hells is that thing? Shaking off the paralyzing fear that gripped him, the lieutenant went into action, scrambling upward, away from the ranging, reaching tentacles.

The sudden motion only seemed to spur on the monstrosity. Vambran scuttled to the very top of the chamber, thankful that his arcane ability still functioned. Once there, he turned to see if he was out of the thing's reach. To his dismay, the mercenary officer saw that the body of the worm reached halfway across the floor, its head near the altar, and it still hadn't completely cleared the hole from which it had emerged. The tentacles wriggled and quested for him, elongating to span the distance.

"Son of a whore!" Vambran swore, trying to figure a way to escape. He got an idea and pulled forth his holy coin. Uttering a familiar prayer, he conjured a swarming field of coins and sent it flying toward the behemoth below him.

The buzzing swarm of coins did not distract the giant worm as Vambran had hoped. He began to mentally command the glowing, ghostly weapons to attack the creature, and he was relieved to discover their effect on the worm. The coins did nothing against the worm's tough outer skin, but whenever they hit a tentacle, it spasmed and writhed, trying to get away from the source of the pain.

Changing tactics, the worm reared back, withdrawing its tentacles. Vambran got the uneasy feeling that the creature was on the verge of spitting something, and he feared whatever it disgorged could easily reach him. Sure enough, the worm's head darted up toward him and a great gout of liquid burst forth from its mouth, right at Vambran.

The lieutenant had no chance to duck or dodge, so he did the only thing he could-he let go.

He dropped fast, plummeting past the spot targeted by the gout of liquid, which Vambran realized at that moment was the source of the beast's foul odor. The spray of fluid spattered over the stone walls where Vambran had been. The rock surfaces sizzled and popped.

Acid, Vambran concluded. And powerful.

The mercenary's plan was to drop far enough to escape immediate threat and use his magic to slow himself to a stop farther down, but the worm had other ideas. As Vambran slid past, the worm's head darted in his direction, snaking out a tentacle. With deftness that surprised the man, the first tentacle grabbed him around the waist and slowed his descent.

The second one encircled his neck, choking him.

The lieutenant, his air cut off, began flailing. The life was being squeezed from his body. Spots darted in his vision. In his desperate efforts to free himself, Vambran dropped the enchanted sword he had subdued. He heard the blade slide away.

Fool, he cursed himself. Now you'll die with no weapon. A fine soldier you are.

As Vambran struggled to remove the ever-tightening tentacle from his neck, his sight grew dim. He tried to command the swarm of coins to attack the tentacle that ensnared him, but his concentration had been broken while leaping clear of the acid and the coins had dissipated. With his body gripped in the tentacles, he had no way to mouth the words to summon another spell.