Thomas Reid - The Gossamer Plain

As Myshik nudged one of the necks with the toe of his boot, Zasian squatted beside him. The priest gasped for breath, too.

"Well, that was interesting," Zasian said. "Don't see one of those every day."

Vhok snorted at his companion's levity and took a closer look at his wound. His boot was rent badly, and his olive skin beneath lay gashed and bleeding in several places. The flesh was badly seared, and the cambion suspected that the wounds had been partially cauterized from the heat of the creature, or he would have been bleeding more profusely.

"Heal me," Vhok instructed Zasian.

The priest gave him a single sidelong glance, and Vhok suspected he saw a flash of anger in the human's eyes, but Zasian placed his hands upon his companion's leg and muttered the chant of a healing prayer. Instantly, Vhok felt relief course through his injured limb. The torn flesh knitted together before his eyes. The charred skin regained its normal color and no longer ached.

Vhok then muttered a spell of his own, a simple cantrip capable of repairing objects. His boot began to reform, the tears and gaps closing until no sign of damage remained. The cambion rose to his feet and tested his footing.

"Excellent," he said, nodding. "Good work."

Zasian gave him a fleeting half-smirk and turned next to Myshik, who was still studying the corpse of the great beast.

"Careful," the priest said, tending to the half-dragon's wounds. "It can still bite you, even in death."

"What is it?" Vhok asked, unsure whether he had ever seen anything resembling the thing before, on any plane.

"It looks like a gulguthydra," Zasian replied. "Though I've never seen one made of fire stuff before. They're nasty creatures even under normal circumstances. Let's hope we don't run into any more." As he said this, the priest turned and looked at the cambion with a twinkle in his eye. "Back on Faerun, they are always hungry, but fortunately, very rare," he said. "If this is any indication, I suspect many other things roam this plain."

Zasian finished his ministrations on Myshik, then the half-dragon ceased kicking at the dead creature and looked at his two companions. He held up his hand. "The rings protect us in this uninhabitable place?" he asked. "And where is this uninhabitable place?"

Vhok nodded. "We are somewhere on the Elemental Plane of Fire itself, the birthing place of all that burns. Beyond that, I cannot tell you with much certainty. I have a map, but it would be best to examine it later, when we are in safer environs."

The cambion took a moment to mop at his brow before continuing. "But yes, without the rings, we'd all be crispy ash blowing in the infernal winds by now." In a lower voice, more to himself than anyone, the cambion added, "I feel like I might just dry up and blow away, even with the ring."

"We can't stay here long," Zasian said. "We must find Kurkle, our guide. He promised to meet us here, but he warned me that we had chosen a dangerous spot to arrive. This pool is favored by creatures native to the area, and those that feed upon them."

"No doubt," Myshik replied, giving the dead beast another glance. "I'd hate to run into whatever feeds on that."

"Me, too," Vhok added. "Zasian is right. We need to get moving."

Myshik's look grew grim. "What will we eat? Drink? How will we sustain ourselves?"

"All will be taken care of," Zasian said before the cambion could answer. "Vhok and I have a few tricks up our sleeves. But if you don't want to continue," he added with a slight smirk, "I'm sure the dwarves on the other side of the portal will welcome you back through the Everfire with open arms."

Myshik glared at the human, not appreciating his humor. "I'll stay," he said.

"Good," Vhok said. "You're pretty handy with that axe. We can use you here," he added, gesturing vaguely around.

"You'll get plenty of chances to wield it, I'm sure."

Myshik gave the cambion a measured stare before nodding.

Vhok found the reaction odd, but he dismissed it for later contemplation. He turned to the priest and asked, "Well? Where is this guide?"

"I don't know," the human replied. "But he'll find us when he's ready. Let's follow the stream that drains this pool and see what we discover."

Zasian took the lead and Myshik brought up the rear. The trio ventured away from the molten pool, toward the defile where it splashed out of view. The ground beneath the half-fiend's feet seemed almost spongy, but his boots sank into soft ash rather than damp loam. With each step he took, puffs of gray smoke wafted into the air, drifting on the scorching breeze.

The defile became a canyon. Zasian picked a path among tumble-down rocks that glowed and sparked with inner heat, while the stream of magma flowed like syrup along the bottom of the ravine. Jets of flame shot from fissures in the ground, some as low as knee-high, others towering in gouts that soared as high as the tallest trees of Faerun. The massive geysers lit the underside of the clouds of smoke in the ruddy sky.

As they progressed, the cambion got the uneasy sense that something was watching them, perhaps following them. Every time he looked back along their trail, however, he saw nothing. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling. The alien landscape served only to heighten his unease, for he doubted his ability to notice aspects out of the ordinary when everything was out of the ordinary.

The sensation became overwhelming and Vhok instinctively looked up the side of the canyon. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. Zasian had frozen in midstep, too, seeing the same thing. Myshik nearly ran into Vhok from behind before he, too, caught a glance at what they saw.

A creature crouched on a precipice, a fierce hound of black fur and glowing red eyes. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it watched the procession.

Vhok fumbled a wand free of a pouch. At almost the same instant, Myshik pulled his dwarven axe from its straps and stepped wide, creating space to swing the weapon. Zasian kept his hands firmly on the staff he carried, though he made no overt sign of aggression.

"What's it doing?" Vhok asked, of no one in particular.

The hellish hound panted, but its eyes seemed preternaturally intelligent, and the beast watched them intently without moving. Then, as the stand-off lingered, the canine rose up on its hind legs and began to shift its shape. Right before the half-fiend's eyes, the dog became a humanoid, a male orcish-looking fellow with rust red hair and unkempt beard, a charcoal gray chain shirt, black pants and boots, and an oversized coal-colored scimitar. Once the transformation was complete, the half-orc stood still, one foot propped upon a glowing rock, his arms crossed on his knee.

Vhok's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He's been tracking us," he said. "I've sensed him on our trail for a while, now."

Myshik gave the half-fiend an appraising sidelong glance. "You felt that, too?" he asked. "I thought I was the only one."

"Yes, following you," the creature barked as he made his way down from the precipice. "To see if you were the three who will pay me. When you called to me, you did not talk of a drako," he finished, nodding toward Myshik. "I had to be sure."

Vhok sensed the half-dragon bristling at the derogatory appellation, but Myshik held his tongue and waited, deferring to the other two.

"Kurkle," Zasian said, as much a statement as a question. "It seems you've found us."

For a long time after Tauran departed and the door closed behind him, Aliisza stood in the middle of the room, stunned. The celestial's last words chilled the alu to the core of her being.

It had been her child, her unborn offspring, that the angel had come to save.

How is that possible? Aliisza thought, imagining the thing growing in her belly sending out a plea for survival. The notion scared her. What else is it capable of?