James Wyatt - Oath of Vigilance

“Impressive,” Kri said. “But we are looking for Nu Alin.”

Eight words, Albanon thought. Eight seconds for the demon to die. An unlikely coincidence.

“There he is!” Kri said, pointing to a broad, strong-looking man who walked without fear among the demons.

“Don’t kill him! Not yet.”

Eight words again, Albanon thought.

Kri hurried toward the man, whose face was hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. “Albric!” he called.

Nu Alin stopped and lowered his hood.

Albanon stared. The body was completely different, but the eyes were the same-the eyes of the halfling creature that had clung to Tempest’s back, digging its fingers into her throat while demanding that Albanon activate the teleportation circle in Kalton Manor. The same creature that had killed Moorin.

“Albric has been dead for a long time,” Nu Alin said slowly.

Eight words.

“Not completely,” Kri said. “His will yet survives in you.”

“He is gone and long forgotten, old fool.”

“The Chained God commands you! Finish your task!”

“I have come with a different purpose now.”

Eight eights, Albanon thought.

As Kri was about to speak again, someone barreled out of the inn, a red-haired woman with a greatsword. Her name bubbled slowly to the surface of Albanon’s thoughts, and he mouthed it to himself. Shara .

She launched herself at the nearest demon, one of the shadowy nightmare creatures, and hacked into it with her massive sword. The drow who had come with them from the Temple of Yellow Skulls came out of the inn after her, his eldritch blade burning in his hand. He leaped at the same demon, and together they made quick work of it, apparently undaunted by the nightmares it induced.

“Albanon?” Shara cried.

“Albanon,” Nu Alin said, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. “I remember you. You sent me and your tiefling friend into the Labyrinth after I killed the old wizard.”

Anger welled in Albanon’s chest, but he tried to keep his face a mask. As long as Kri believed that his mind and will were shattered, he would not have to fight the priest. He wasn’t ready.

“His mind has been broken by the Chained God’s touch,” Kri said. “He will not remember.”

But I do remember, he thought. I remember everything, Kri.

“Too bad,” Nu Alin said. “Do you suppose he remembers finding the wizard in his tower? It was a work of art, what I did to him. A masterpiece.”

He’s trying to provoke me, Albanon thought.

“Albanon, what are you doing?” Shara called. “We could use your help here! Roghar, Tempest, and Uldane are still inside!”

Tempest is here?

“He remembers more than you think,” Nu Alin said.

Kri looked at him sharply, but Albanon made his face blank again. As Kri peered into his vacant eyes, Shara leaped over the corpse of another demon and ran toward them. As she drew close, Nu Alin spun around and slammed his fist into her gut, hurling her back the way she’d come. She crashed to the ground and lay still.

“Servant of the Chained God,” Nu Alin said to Kri, “I serve another master now.”

“Betrayer!” Kri spat. “You fought the Voidharrow’s will even as it transformed you. It is not too late. You can still help me free the Chained God.”

“Impossible.”

“No. I have the shard of the Living Gate. I have a fragment of the Voidharrow. We can finish what you began. I need only your knowledge.”

“Then look upon my masterpiece,” Nu Alin said, grinning at Albanon.

Quarhaun was helping Shara to her feet, and they both gaped at Nu Alin with fear and confusion on their faces. One of the flaming demons swept toward them from behind. Albanon extended his hand and snuffed its flame as he had done to the other one a moment before.

Nu Alin turned and started walking toward the quay. Shara shouted, and Quarhaun leveled his sword, sending a bolt of frost hurtling after the demon. The bolt crashed into Nu Alin’s back and stopped him in his tracks as Shara ran after him.

“Come, Albanon,” Kri said. “We have all we need.”

Without a word or a backward glance, Albanon turned away from Shara and Nu Alin and followed Kri into a shadow-cloaked alley.

Frozen flesh cracked and splintered as Nu Alin turned to face Shara and meet her charge. Where his body tore, red fluid appeared in the gaps-not blood, but the all too familiar liquid crystal of the Voidharrow. Shara drew back her sword, but Nu Alin lunged at her with blinding speed, ducking under her sword and slamming his fist into her again. She managed to twist away from the full force of the blow so that he only sent her sprawling on the ground rather than hurling her through the air again. His strength was unbelievable. If he keeps hitting me like that, she thought, I’m going to stop getting back up.

“So I take it you’re Nu Alin,” Quarhaun said, standing beside Shara as she got to her feet again.

“Indeed.”

“And are you familiar with the third invocation of Hadar?”

“I am not.” Nu Alin curled his clawlike fingers into fists and stepped toward Quarhaun.

“Observe!” Quarhaun shouted. He held out his hand alongside his eldrich blade, contorting his fingers into a bizarre shape, and light erupted in front of him.

It was as different from the clear, pure radiance of Roghar’s divine magic as that holy light was from the illumination of a lantern-a difference not of brightness or color but of quality , somehow. There was a wrongness, an alienness to it, as if it came from some distant star, pale and faint in the midnight sky.

The light’s effect on Nu Alin, however, was every bit as dramatic as what Roghar’s light had done. The demon sprang backward, throwing his arms up to shield his face from the unearthly glow. Where the red liquid showed in his joints, it smoldered and shrank back. The light congealed into an orb the size of Quarhaun’s fist that sprang at the demon and took up an orbit around him, sending little jolts like lightning to stab at him.

Shara got to her feet and cautiously circled around the demon. He snarled and coiled as if to spring at her, but the orb flared brighter and its light held him in place. He swatted at the orb of light instead, and it shattered into a million tiny fragments of light, dispersing into the darkness.

“Parlor tricks,” Nu Alin said. “Even if you dress them up with fancy names, they remain but tricks.”

“Then let’s see what you think of the seventh-”

Before Quarhaun could finish his sentence or even begin his invocation, Nu Alin was on him, bony fingers clenched around his throat. Blood welled where the clawlike tips of his fingers dug into the drow’s skin, seeking the great arteries that carried blood to Quarhaun’s brain.

Shara sprang at him and swung her sword down with all her might, but with impossible speed and strength, Nu Alin twisted around and lifted Quarhaun into the path of her assault. In horror, she tried to stop her swing and pull the blade back, but it still bit deep into the drow’s arm, sending his eldritch blade clattering to the ground.

Nu Alin started to laugh, then his voice became the dragon’s voice. Vestapalk was laughing at her failure, even as his minion drove sharp claws into Quarhaun’s throat.

“You care for this man?” Vestapalk’s voice asked. “Once already this one has nearly killed him. The feel of claws sinking into his chest is vivid in the memory.”

“I will kill you, Vestapalk,” Shara said. She lunged again, and once more Nu Alin lifted Quarhaun to intercept her blow. The drow’s eyes were wide as he gasped for air.

“Listen, mortal fool,” the dragon’s voice said. “Your interference is not welcome. The Plaguedeep grows and the plague spreads, with or without your meddling.”