Thomas Reid - The Crystal Mountain

Micus's skin had turned a mottled purple color and had begun to fleck off in places, leaving gaping wounds that festered a yellowish green color. His face bulged in odd places, and his eyes, once such an intense black color, gleamed red in the shadows of the cage. His dark hair had grown long and unruly and dripped with sweat as he thrashed around inside his cage.

At the level of his gut, Myshik's beady gaze still fixated on him, with its maw opening and snapping shut eagerly over and over again. Vhok saw no sign of anything greater than animal instinct in that stare. For a moment, he imagined what it must have been like for the angel to discover he had been fused with the half-dragon. He suppressed a shudder.

"We caught him shortly after you and your companions became my guests," Vhissilka said. "He has gone mad with rage. He shouts your name from time to time, even though this is the first moment he's set eyes on you since we seized him."

"He blames us-me, in particular-for his condition. He thinks I led him into a trap just so he could be transformed into such a thing."

"His mind is nearly gone," the marilith said. "We have made much sport with him and broken whatever celestial part of him might have remained. Now he only wants to kill."

Vhok had a sudden, titillating thought. "It is unfortunate that he appears so uncontrollable. What a nice, ironic surprise it would be to spring him on our foes today."

"That's precisely why I brought you here," Vhissilka said. "You knew him before. Could he lead us to where the angels' defenses will be weakest today?"

Oh, you clever girl, Vhok thought. "If his memory of the place is intact," he said. "But the question of control remains. How could we possibly force him to attack the celestials instead of our own troops?"

Vhissilka smiled. "If you look closely, you will see that the creature now bears a steel collar."

Vhok tilted his head down and spied the circlet of metal surrounding Micus's throat.

"This," the marilith said, holding up a bracelet that matched the collar, "is the means to dominate the creature before you. However," she added with caution, "once I place it on your arm, you cannot remove it save severing the limb, unless the abomination dies."

Vhok took the bracelet from Vhissilka and examined it. It was a simple length of metal that appeared to have been crudely hammered into a rounded shape. The ends did not quite meet, providing just enough room for someone to slip the item over a hand. He held it up to the angry red light of the sky and considered.

"Are you offering this to me?" he asked. "A secret weapon in addition to leading your honor guard?"

The marilith smirked. "It is Lord Axithar's wish that you command the creature. He thought it fitting, given how much the creature hates you and how the very heavens from which he came will find him anathema."

Vhok chuckled. He already had another idea, an even better way to make use of Micus. "I accept," he said, and he slipped the bracelet over his arm.

The band of metal closed, tightening itself and reforming its shape until it gripped the cambion's wrist snugly. When it stopped altering, it was tight but not uncomfortable.

Vhok could feel the link between himself and Micus that had formed. He felt the hostility from the ruined angel, the rage and despair battering against his mind, but the link held the forces at bay. The cambion sent a mental command to Micus to quiet down and, even though he felt the resentment, the abomination stopped outwardly raging, standing still and easy within the confines of his cage.

"Oh, this will serve nicely," Vhok said, delighted. "I can think of many things to do with him."

"Your orders are to command him to lead us to the House's weakest points. He will know how they will attempt to defend against us. You will force him to thwart that defense."

Vhok bowed at the marilith and said, "As you command." Silently, he added, he's going to do more than that for me. I have a Lifespring to visit.

Kael watched from the edge of the common as groups of soldiers assembled. Angels and archons, warriors all, gathered and milled upon the green, waiting. Kael waited with them, and he could sense the anticipation emanating from them. From time to time, he cast a glance up, toward the top of the mountain, to the highest tier of the fortress-city of Trueheart. There, beyond ring after ring of stout defensive walls constructed of huge stone blocks that ascended the sides of the mountain, stood the palace of Torm.

The knight's heart was glad to be there. He felt an old kinship with the fortress-city and its inhabitants that he had never quite mustered for the Court of Tyr.

I am a warrior, a servant of Torm. This is where I belong.

Thinking it made Kael feel a little better, but he knew that only time would heal the wounds he felt. He was content to move on, to turn the page to a new chapter of his life. But he mourned the decisions of the High Council, the severing of his relationship with Tauran.

If they had sentenced Tauran to death, that might have been better than this, he thought. Knowing he's out there, somewhere, wandering, lonely, without a deity or a cause to serve. That hurts more.

You were a good mentor, my friend. I will miss you. What the High Council decreed was shameful. You deserved better. You were a wise and noble servant, and they should have listened to you.

Kael caught himself growing angry all over again and reminded himself of his vow to leave it in the past.

Time to move on. Let it go.

He had tried repeatedly to tell himself that the anger and resentment was just another example of how much he had let himself become too involved in the affairs of the Tyrrans. Tauran had mentored him well, perhaps, but Tauran had also wandered from his path, and Kael had been dragged-albeit willingly-along, too.

It wasn't your fight. Don't continue to make it your problem.

Kael sighed and thought of his mother. In a way, he was thankful that she was gone from his life too. He understood her much better after the night they had spent talking, by the pool in the enchanted garden. He accepted that she had become much more than her heritage, just as he had always strived to overcome both the fiendish and drow blood in him. He no longer blamed her for what had gone wrong with Tauran's efforts. She had been, in many ways, just as loyal as Kael himself.

But at the same time, Kael saw her as turmoil incarnate. Everywhere she became involved, chaos followed.

It's her nature, he reminded himself. She is what she is in that regard, even when she tries not to be.

For that matter, the same could be said about Pharaun. A product of his society, all wrapped up in his strange games of intrigue, noble house battling noble house. Kael couldn't imagine playing such games, constantly awaiting some espionage or double cross to ruin his plans. He could never be a drow.

But the son of a drow… if they are creatures of their own nature, what does that make me?

They only sired and bore you, he argued. Nothing more. You are more than just the product of your parents. You are what you make of yourself. Be different. Stay true to your beliefs! Aliisza proved that it can be done. Honor her in that way.

Kael blinked and shook his head slightly to rid himself of the conflicting thoughts. Move on, he thought again. Remembering Pharaun's advice, he added, be true to who you are so you can answer to yourself at the end of your time.

Shaking off the morose thoughts, the knight turned his attention back to the gathering of soldiers. He scanned the pennants flapping in the warm breezes, seeking the one with the white hammer within a circle on a purple field. He suspected it would not be hard to spot, but thus far, it was not there. His new commander had not arrived, yet.