Diran slipped his daggers into the various sheaths sewn into the inner lining of his cloak. The priest carried blades fashioned from all manner of materials: finely honed steel, polished silver, sturdy iron, carved wood, smooth-hewn rock, delicate crystal… each useful for battling creatures with varying weaknesses. Many of the blades had been purchased-though as a wandering priest Diran was hardly rich-while some had been gifts and a select few had been crafted by Diran himself. The priest had a specific place for each dagger, though how he kept their locations straight, Ghaji didn't know. Give him a single weapon to keep track of, and maybe a second for back-up, and that was all he needed.
Ghaji also wore a pack containing supplies they'd scavenged from the Maelstom: rope, some rations, a few light-stones that while not as reliable as everbright lanterns, would serve well enough in a pinch. Diran didn't carry a pack, for it would interfere with drawing daggers from inside his cloak, but he did carry a waterskin looped to his belt, as did Ghaji. The half-orc had scouted their landing place from the ship's railing earlier, and from the look of the barren island, he doubted they'd find any fresh water there.
"Ready?" Diran asked when he was finished replacing his daggers.
"All ashore that's going ashore," Ghaji said.
They left the cabin and made their way back out onto the uneven deck. Dark clouds filled the night sky, blocking out the moons and stars. Waves crashed against the ship's hull, causing the slanted deck beneath their feet to shudder, making walking even more treacherous as they moved toward the ship's stern. Once there, Ghaji removed the rope from his pack and tied one end to the railing.
"You go first," he said to Diran. "I'll lower you down."
The half-orc was far stronger than Diran, who was a lean man at any rate. He knew he would have no trouble performing this maneuver.
Diran nodded, took hold of the other end of the rope, and looped it around his left hand. He then drew a steel dagger-just in case a very unwelcoming welcome committee should appear-and climbed over the railing. The priest kept watch on the shore as Ghaji lowered him, but the precaution, wise as it was, turned out to be unnecessary. Diran's feet came down in the surf at the edge of the shoreline safely. The priest let go of the rope and Ghaji hauled it in. He gauged the distance from the railing to the ground once more, then untied the rope, rolled it up, and replaced it in his pack. He then stepped up onto the railing and jumped.
The half-orc landed with a splash next to Diran. The priest gave him a look and Ghaji shrugged. "I figured we might need the rope later."
Diran nodded, Ghaji drew his axe, and together they walked onto Demothi Island.
As soon as his boot touched the shore, Diran drew in a hissing breath.
"What's wrong?" Ghaji asked, almost activating his elemental axe out of reflex.
"I sensed an aura of evil emanating from this place while we were still on the ship, but now that we're here, it's even stronger-as strong as anything we've ever encountered."
A chill shivered down Ghaji's spine. Considering some of the evil, both supernatural and mundane, they'd faced together over the years, that was saying something.
As Ghaji took in his surroundings, he could easily believe that Diran's foreboding was well founded. The island was craggy and rough, the stony ground cracked and covered with jagged rocks. The only signs of life were tufts of dry grass that had managed to shove their way through the narrow fissures in the ground, along with twisted, gnarled trees that looked as if they'd never grown leaves or borne fruit, regardless of the season. Though Ghaji had no priestly training, he was half-orc and thus strongly attuned to the natural world, and all his senses were screaming that there was nothing natural about this place-nothing at all.
"We might be better off if we went back to the ship." Ghaji said.
Diran considered Ghaji's words. "You make a good point, but it's difficult to know how stable the Coldhearts' ship is after running aground. It might well collapse under us in the middle of a battle."
Ghaji glanced back at the Maelstrom. The ship listed to starboard, and there was a large hole near the bow, but otherwise the vessel looked as if she would hold together well enough. Diran had grown up in the Principalities and therefore knew far more about sea-going than Ghaji did, so the half-orc decided to defer to his friend's judgment.
Diran gazed inland and scowled. "Besides, if there's evil here, it is our duty to seek it out and destroy it."
Ghaji sighed. "I hate it when you say things like that."
The half-orc gripped the haft of his axe more tightly. He wasn't about to activate it now. Doing so would give away their location to whatever might be lurking on the island, and the light would also render his night vision almost useless. They'd proceed with stealth for now, and Ghaji would ignite the axe's flame when necessary.
Diran exchanged his steel dagger for a silver one, and the two companions began walking. Ghaji kept an eye out for threats while Diran, who only had the extremely limited nocturnal sight of a human, remained close to his friend and followed his lead. Ghaji knew that Diran wasn't without other resources to draw on, however. His training as assassin had taught him to pay close attention to all his senses, not just sight. Diran was doubtless listening for any noises beyond the pounding of the surf against the shore, scenting the wind for any smells in addition to the tang of sea salt, feeling for vibrations juddering through the rocky ground beneath his boots with every step… Diran might not have orc blood in him, but thanks to the training he'd gained at Emon Gorsedd's academy, the priest's senses were honed to as fine an edge as that possessed by any of his blades.
Diran had his priestly powers to draw upon as well. When Diran said he sensed evil, he wasn't speaking metaphorically, nor was he expressing the vague sensation that intuitive people sometimes had in dangerous situations. As one of the Purified, Diran sensed evil with the same clarity and certainty as someone else might see an object placed directly in front of their eyes.
They walked for some time across Demothi's barren landscape without encountering any signs of life beyond the dry grass and twisted trees dotting the island. No animals, no birds, no lizards-nothing-yet Ghaji couldn't shake the feeling that numerous eyes were monitoring their progress-malicious, hungry eyes.
Ghaji was so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly jumped when Diran spoke.
"This is it-the place where the evil that permeates this island is centered."
Diran pointed toward a dark object silhouetted against the night sky. The object was perhaps six, seven feet tall and wrought in the rough shape of a man. Ghaji was no priest, but now that they were this close, he could feel the waves of malevolent power emanating from the man-shaped obelisk.
"What is it?" Though he didn't intend to, Ghaji spoke in a hushed voice.
"I'm not sure. I'm not as familiar with the legends of this part of the Principalities as I am with others. Still, I vaguely recall reading something once about a dark priest who sailed to an island… a priest who was transformed into stone." Diran stepped closer to the stone figure to examine it. Ghaji made to accompany his friend, but Diran held up a hand to stop him.
"I appreciate your willingness to follow me, Ghaji, but it's best if only I approach."
Though he knew Diran was only taking a precaution, and a sensible one at that, Ghaji nevertheless felt a surge of anger at the suggestion he hang back. Remaining out of harm's way while a companion strode forth into danger was not the orc way, and it wasn't Ghaji's.