James Wyatt - Oath of Vigilance

Kri stepped closer, and his fingers touched Albanon’s forehead, sending a lance of pain searing through his head. Albanon reacted from pure instinct, recoiling from Kri’s touch and lashing out with his magic. A clap of thunder exploded in the stairway, sending Kri stumbling backward. Kri lost his footing and rolled down the steps. He cried out as he fell, a sound so lost and helpless that Albanon was overcome with remorse; then he landed in a heap a half turn down from where Albanon stood.

“Kri?” Albanon asked tentatively.

The old priest groaned and stirred, starting to untangle his limbs and lift his head from where it rested against the stone wall.

“Kri, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Kri’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on Albanon as the young wizard hurried down the stairs. Kri opened his mouth and Albanon slowed, expecting a moan or quiet words.

Instead, Kri shrieked, a long, tortured note too high and loud to be his natural voice, and laden with the undertones of madness Albanon had been hearing in whispers and echoes. The barrage of sound slammed him backward and tore at his mind, snatching away his senses until the scream was all that remained.

In the face of that howling storm, Albanon was a worm writhing on the stone. The whispering voices in the walls surrounding him became leering faces staring down at him, then emerged as hungry birds jabbing their beaks at him. Agony shot through him as their beaks struck him and pulled away, trailing wispy tendrils of shining silver smoke. He looked up in his torment and saw the sun burning down on him, black but ringed in angry scarlet, pulsing with life and malevolence. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

One of the birds lifted him from the ground and impaled him on a thorn, but he kept staring up at the angry red corona, noticing the flecks of gold and veins of silver pulsing within its brilliance. He was only vaguely aware of more silver smoke pouring forth from him where the thorn pierced his body, streaming up toward the sun.

Then Albanon was no longer a worm, no longer a creature with a merely physical body. He was wisps of silver smoke and coiling tendrils of thought, a throbbing heartbeat that came from no fleshly organ, a hunger that knew nothing of food or digestion. He saw without eyes, and all he saw was the burning black sun, the Elder Elemental Eye, the unblinking gaze of the Chained God. He had no ears, but the howling scream remained, blowing over him like a gale.

Some scrap of his mind was aware of a fleeting thought. “I’ve gone mad.”

And then he was nothing at all.

Shara heard the handle of the door rattle, stopped by the lock. She sat up, pulling a blanket around her shoulders.

“Shara?” Uldane’s voice called through the door. “Are you in there?”

She jumped to her feet, trailing the blanket, and padded to the door, feeling her face flush. She glanced over her shoulder to where Quarhaun lay in the bed, smiling at her, his white teeth gleaming against his black lips.

“What is it?” she said at the door.

“Shara! Open up!”

The urgency in his voice overrode her embarrassment, and she flipped the lock and let the door swing open. Uldane’s face was lit with excitement tinged with a hint of fear, but his smile fell as his eyes took in the scene.

“What is it?” she asked again.

“Um … oh! Nu Alin! Tempest thinks he was here. She and Roghar have gone to look for him.” Uldane looked like he was going to say something else, but his eyes went back and forth between Shara and Quarhaun one more time and he turned away. “That’s all,” he added.

He started stomping back down the hall, and Shara went after him. “Uldane, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so angry.”

“Probably not.”

“Why are you angry at me?”

Uldane wheeled on her then. “Look at you!” he said. “And him! Both of you! Back in the Blue Moon you lectured me about choosing my allies more carefully. And yeah, I’ve made some mistakes and I paid for them. But now you’re with him?”

The fury of his outburst came as such a surprise that she took a step back from him. “Watch it, Uldane,” she said, feeling her own anger rise. “Quarhaun saved your life in the Witchlight Fens.”

“And I’m grateful, but that doesn’t mean he’s good for you. He’s a drow . He comes from one of the most evil and scheming societies in the world. He has no respect for the gods, or for the lizardfolk who actually saved our lives. Do you really think he’s what Jarren would want for you?”

“Jarren would want me to be happy.”

Uldane folded his arms. “And are you?”

“I’m trying to be.” She spun around, adjusting the blanket, and hurried back to Quarhaun’s room to get her sword and armor.

By the time Shara and Quarhaun came downstairs, Roghar and Tempest had already returned from their hunt, despairing of finding the demon. Uldane sat at a large table in uncharacteristic silence, avoiding Shara’s eyes as the rest of the group settled into chairs.

“We need a plan,” Roghar said. “We’ve got to drive the demons out of Fallcrest. And destroy Nu Alin, if we can.” He gave Tempest a lingering glance.

“A couple times in the last few weeks,” Shara said, “we found demons in larger groups like this. And there was always one demon in charge, a pack leader or commander or whatever. And when we killed that leader, the rest of the demons scattered. Driving the demons out should be as straightforward as finding their leader and killing it.”

“Cut off the head and the body dies,” Quarhaun said, nodding.

“Yes,” Roghar said, “but we don’t know much about this leader. It might be Nu Alin, and that presents special difficulties.”

“What difficulties?” Quarhaun asked.

“We don’t really know how to kill him.”

“He possesses mortal bodies,” Shara explained, glancing at Tempest. The tiefling’s face was a mask of indifference. “If you kill the body he’s in, he just tries to take another body.”

“It seems possible to destroy him while he’s not in a body,” Roghar said, “but his natural form is like a liquid serpent, made of the Voidharrow. The last time we encountered him, that form proved very elusive.”

Quarhaun leaned forward on the table, evidently interested in the topic. “So when his host body is slain, this liquid serpent, as you call it, comes out of the corpse?”

“Exactly,” Roghar said, glancing sidelong at Tempest.

“Why does everyone keep looking at Tempest?” the drow asked.

“The demon possessed me,” Tempest said. “And they’re all worried that I’m going to fly into a hysterical rage or crying fit as we discuss how to kill the damned thing.”

Quarhaun laughed out loud. Shara kicked his leg under the table, but then she saw that Tempest was smiling. Then Roghar laughed as well, and Shara allowed herself a smile. Only Uldane was still scowling.

“One of our companions at the time stabbed me,” Tempest explained. “As I lay dying, the demon snaked out. I’m afraid I don’t remember much after that point. But I am glad that Erak had just enough heartless bastard in him to actually do the deed, and I’m counting on you all to do the same if the demon manages to take me again.”

Roghar nodded slowly, staring into his ale.

“We will,” Shara said.

“I’m nothing but heartless bastard,” Quarhaun added. “I’ll stab you now, if you like.”

“Thank you, no,” Tempest said.

Roghar gave Quarhaun a nervous glance and tried to restart the conversation. “After it left Tempest, it tried to go into Falon, our cleric friend. It climbed up his body toward his face.”