Thomas Reid - The Gossamer Plain

Vhok snatched up the rope lying at his feet-the same rope upon which he had channeled the magic of the scroll-and moved next to the semicircular barrier. With a thought, he levitated to the top of it and stepped onto the narrow top surface. He peered over the far side.

Zasian, half-submerged in the lava, held on to a small chunk of rough rock at the base of the wall. He peered upward at the half-fiend. He didn't seem terrified, though his eyes did convey a sense of nervousness.

"Need some help?" Vhok asked with a grin.

He knotted a loop in the rope and lowered it to his companion. When the loop reached Zasian, the priest took hold of it. He released his grip on the rock and settled lower into the lava, but he clung to the loop and hoisted himself up. Working together, the pair managed to haul him to the top of the wall. As he rose, liquid stone sloughed off his clothing and equipment, sizzling and darkening as it dripped back to the molten flow. Zasian clambered to the other side with Vhok's aid, and dropped to the ground. The cambion floated down to join the priest.

"Thanks," Zasian said as he caught his breath. "I couldn't do anything, or I'd slip off." He took a look around. "Amazing that we wound up here again," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vhok asked. He felt a sense of dread rising. His anxiety multiplied with the sense that time had escaped his grasp. Important events were afoot, and the cambion knew not whether he was ahead of them or behind them.

"I half expected us to wind up somewhere even more deadly than this," Zasian replied. "Perhaps a plane of oblivion, or one of extreme negative energy, like the kind that feeds the undead and keeps them animated. All things considered, we couldn't have asked for a better result."

"You suspected all that, and you still advised that we follow through? Are you mad?"

Zasian shrugged. "On the other hand, I did receive guidance in this matter from Bane himself, so I felt assured that we would survive the ordeal. Looks like I was right to trust him, wouldn't you say?"

Vhok grunted, unwilling to commit to an answer. The cambion instead looked around and changed the subject.

"So we freed ourselves," he observed. "Yet we have no guide and no map-only our imperfect memories of the route we wish to take and a vague sense of direction. Not very good odds."

"I like them better now than when we were trapped in that palace. I think we might have gained an advantage by escaping so quickly. The half-dragon, and by extension his clan, is not expecting us to return. At least not any time soon. It could even be the case that he is delivering the arch key to another who wishes to possess or control us."

The idea of a creature attempting to hold him prisoner infuriated Vhok. "I still intend to flay Myshik alive when I catch up to him," he said. "Clan Morueme does not understand what sort of trouble they've heaped upon themselves."

"As you wish," Zasian replied. "When we catch up to him, I'll hold him down for you. In the meantime," he said, standing, "let's be on our way." The priest began scraping lava, hardened to a tarry substance, from his clothing and skin. "Kurkle said this terrain didn't last long, but we should be wary of things lurking within it."

"I'm prepared for it today," Vhok said. He readied magic that would permit him to fly.

"A moment, my friend," Zasian said, holding up his hand. "Save your magic for later. I think I have just what we need." He chanted a few phrases in some unholy language Vhok did not recognize, then touched the cambion once upon the shoulder.

The half-fiend felt no difference in his condition.

The priest repeated the ritual and touched himself. "There," he said. "Observe." He took a step forward, as though he were ascending a staircase. He rose from the ground and stood above Vhok. He took another step and another, climbing a bit each time. "It's simple," he said. "Try it. Just imagine where you want to walk, and the air will hold you aloft."

Vhok gave his counterpart an appraising look and turned his attention on himself. He envisioned a pathway beneath his feet that sloped upward, then stepped forward onto it. His foot struck something invisible and solid right where he had conjured it in his mind. "Very creative," he said, "though not quite as fast as flying."

"True," Zasian replied as the two of them set out, rising high enough into the air to avoid the churning lava beneath them. "But unless you thought to invoke that spell twice, you'd either leave me behind or lose whatever benefit of speed you gained by waiting for me. Besides," the priest added, "we can do this far longer."

Vhok did not relish another day of walking, especially after the arduous experiences battling the bandits the previous day. But striding upon the air was smooth and easy, and without the need to observe the terrain beneath his feet, he could devote more time to studying their surroundings.

Islands stretched to the extent of the cambion's sight in every direction. From his higher vantage point, they reminded him more of bog lands than anything, though the solid ground was more barren. He wondered how deep the flow of molten rock was, and when he spotted some strange, large creature surfacing and submerging again, he knew the depth was considerable.

Later, a flock of flying creatures caught the half-fiend's attention. He could not get a good look at them, for they were distant and headed away from them, but they looked large and left a trail of smoke where they passed. He and Zasian opted to descend to a nearby patch of rocky island to wait for them to disappear. Neither wished to draw undue attention to themselves while exposed in the air. When the creatures were well out of sight, the pair continued on their way.

As they walked, both remained quiet, withdrawn into their own thoughts. Vhok brooded over the betrayal inflicted upon him, and fretted about developments beyond his ability to perceive or control. He did not often find himself so isolated and out of contact with his Scourged Legion, and he found the experience distasteful. He knew it was a necessary sacrifice in order to achieve the greater goal, but it rankled him.

The half-fiend's thoughts turned to Aliisza. Vhok wondered how she fared, whether she was even still alive. All that he worked for depended on her capture, and if anything went wrong, the entire scheme would be for naught. The notion of his plans crumbling down around him distressed him in many ways, but he also found himself worried for her well-being.

That and the baby she carried.

He wondered if she knew yet. He wondered what she thought of carrying his child in her womb. Was she happy? Did she bear any maternal instincts toward it? Vhok often doubted that a true fiend was capable of loving its offspring. He certainly felt little in the way of affection from his own mother.

Certainly not while I was slaying her, the cambion thought wryly.

But Aliisza was not a full fiend. She had her human side, as did he. Possibly, she would harbor some sense of protectiveness for her baby when it was born. He found himself hoping so. He truly would like to meet his child, perhaps raise it to serve him.

"Look," Zasian said, drawing Vhok out of his thoughts. He peered where the priest pointed and saw that the terrain changed ahead of them. The sea of lava with its islands of barren, blackened rock gave way to gently rising ground covered in things that looked like trees.

That cannot be, the half-fiend thought. Nothing could grow here.

"What are those?" he asked.

"I confess I have no idea," Zasian answered. "We'll find out shortly, though."

The pair continued their journey toward the rising ground. Before long, they set foot upon what Vhok could only consider to be the shore of the Islands. The ground was no different than anywhere else they had been within the plane thus far. It popped and crackled with radiant heat, and fissures crisscrossing its surface glowed with the light of deeper fire.