James Wyatt - Oath of Vigilance

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Kri stared at him and spoke in a tone of firm command. “We are shaping the Vast Gate, forming an archway, creating a pathway between worlds. Keep those thoughts in mind and no others.”

As they guided its growth, the crystal expanded into a slender column that they soon had to rest on the floor. They shaped it up and over into a curving arch, then-with agonizing slowness as the amount of liquid flowing over the surface diminished almost to nothing-back down to touch the floor again.

Albanon heard the soft pop of air as an unknown landscape, a dark and forbidding castle on a high promontory, appeared in the archway. The scene then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a foam-washed seashore.

The Vast Gate was open.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Roghar led his new ragtag army-the handful of soldiers who had helped him and Tempest defeat the fire demons-on a triumphant march through the shattered doors of the Silver Unicorn. Smoke still wafted around near the ceiling-more smoke than usual, anyway. Besides the front doors, a few other windows and doors were crashed in, curtains and bedsheets scorched or incinerated, and timbers here and there were blackened with fire, but the inn had escaped a far worse fate thanks to their efforts. To her credit, Wisara Osterman acknowledged that fact, promising that the “heroes of Fallcrest” could drink at the Silver Unicorn for the rest of their lives, on the house.

“She obviously doesn’t know you very well,” Tempest whispered to Roghar.

“I’m not sure I want to do my drinking here, anyway,” Roghar said. “It’s sort of a dump.”

Uldane stalked in a few minutes after they got settled and silently took a seat at the table.

“No luck?” Roghar asked.

Uldane shook his head with a glance at Tempest.

“Where are Shara and the drow?”

Uldane shrugged.

“What’s the matter with you, Uldane?” Roghar said, clapping the halfling on the shoulder. “We won, didn’t we?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The halfling crossed his arms and seemed to fold in on himself, turning away from Roghar.

Shara burst in then, scanning the room, and the drow loomed at her shoulder. “Where in the three worlds is Albanon?” Shara said.

“Albanon?” Roghar said. “I haven’t seen him since …”

“He was there,” Shara said, storming to the table. “I saw him, and Kri as well, talking to him.”

“Kri was talking to Albanon? Who’s Kri?” Roghar asked.

“They were both talking to Nu Alin!” Shara said. “They let him get away!”

“You found Nu Alin?” Tempest asked, leaning forward.

“He got away,” Uldane said. “I’m sorry, Tempest, I tried to catch him.”

“He would have killed you,” Roghar said. “None of us is strong enough to handle him alone.”

Quarhaun rubbed his throat, where several lighter spots in his dark skin marked recent wounds only partially healed by magic. “True enough,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“But he got away,” Uldane said.

“I can’t believe Albanon would let him go like that,” Tempest said. “He hates the demon almost as much as I do.”

Roghar scratched his chin. “Is it possible he didn’t recognize Nu Alin?”

“Maybe at first,” Shara said. “But he watched the demon hit me and he didn’t lift a finger. Then he just walked away.”

“I’m sorry to say it,” Roghar said, “but I think we need to treat the elf as an enemy until we know what’s going on.”

“Eladrin,” Tempest said automatically.

“Whatever. But perhaps Nu Alin has powers of mind control we’re not aware of.”

“Or else Kri does,” Shara said.

“Tell me again who this Kri is?” Roghar said. “A priest of Ioun, you said?”

“Yes. Kri helped us deal with another demon, another servant of Vestapalk. He knows more about the threat we face than anyone, and he said he was the last member of an order that Albanon’s mentor also belonged to. After we destroyed that other demon, he took Albanon into the Feywild, looking for a weapon we could use against Vestapalk.”

Roghar rumbled as he absorbed this information. “You think he was lying?”

“I don’t know,” Shara said. “I trusted him-I think we all did. But he seemed to be doing most of the talking with Nu Alin just now.”

“Imagine,” Quarhaun said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A trusted servant of the gods turns out to be not so trustworthy after all.”

“What in the Nine Hells is that supposed to mean?” Roghar said.

“You think only priests of the Spider Queen are capable of treachery? I am not so naive.”

“If you expect treachery from every quarter, you’re certain to find it.”

“And if you don’t expect it,” Quarhaun said with a wry smile, “it will find you.”

“So you won’t be surprised to hear that I don’t trust you outside the reach of my sword arm,” Roghar growled.

“But a dagger in the ribs comes from inside that reach.” The drow was still smiling, but there was a look in his eyes that Roghar found even more threatening than his words.

“You’re right,” Roghar said, rising to his feet. “I don’t trust you at all, and I wouldn’t miss you if I never saw you again.”

“Roghar, sit down,” Shara whispered, glancing around at the soldiers and citizens who had paused from their celebrations to listen to him. “Quarhaun’s just toying with you.”

“Like a cat toys with a mouse before it pounces,” Roghar said as he lowered himself back down to his chair. “But I warn you, drow, I’m no mouse.”

Quarhaun shrugged. “And I’m no cat.”

“Stop it,” Shara said to the drow, squeezing his hand. “And you, too,” she added with a sharp glance at Roghar. “This whole thing started with Albanon and Kri. They’re the ones who let Nu Alin escape, not Quarhaun.”

“Well.” Roghar took a deep breath, biting back another angry retort for Shara’s sake. “The important thing is that we’ve scored a first victory. We killed a lot of those demons, and showed the citizens of Fallcrest a ray of hope. Now we take the fight to them and retake Lowtown!”

The nearby soldiers cheered, and the inn patrons who’d been dragged from their beds in the middle of the night joined in, and Roghar felt, however briefly, like a proper hero. But a glance at Shara, Tempest, and Uldane showed him that he’d failed to inspire them in the slightest.

“Fine,” Shara said. “You can be the hero of Fallcrest. But I have a dragon to kill. I’m tired of facing his exarchs and letting him mock me through them. I need to find him and take him out, once and for all.”

“What, and leave Fallcrest defenseless?” Roghar said.

“Cut off the head and the body dies, too,” Shara said, with a glance at Quarhaun. “Nu Alin isn’t the head. It’s Vestapalk. He’s out there, somewhere to the west, and I mean to find him.”

“Is Vestapalk the head of Kri and Albanon as well?” Tempest asked.

“I assume so,” Shara said. “Why?”

“What if he’s not? What if there’s another head behind them both? When does it stop?”

“Sooner or later, we’ll find whoever’s in charge of all of this. I think it’s Vestapalk. Do you have a better idea?”

“I’m just trying to say that it’s not necessarily a good idea to ignore these evils just because they’re not ‘the head,’ you see? If we discovered tomorrow that Vestapalk and Nu Alin and Kri were all servants of Tiamat, for example, would you abandon your quest for vengeance against Vestapalk and go hunt down the dragon queen?”

Shara frowned. “No,” she admitted. “But this is different. Vestapalk-not Tiamat, not any other evil mastermind, Vestapalk has taunted me through the mouths of two of his demon pawns. I’m through fighting pawns.”

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