"Face me, Nerull-worshipers!" yelled Ember.
She launched a flying kick at the taverner's back. Her foot connected, sending the heavy-set man sprawling into the shadows.
All were caught off guard, including Hennet and Nebin, who stood dumbfounded on the stairs. Neither of them had seen or even heard of these red-masked strangers before, obviously, or heard the name of Nerull spoken in anything but a child's rhyme. It was painfully obvious, however, that the people in the room were up to no good, if the trussed-up dwarf was any indication.
One of the kidnappers regained his composure ahead of the rest. He sprang to attack Ember, using his hands and feet as weapons. Again Ember wondered what deranged order these red-masked devils represented. The man leered at her, his mouth gaping-it was her tongueless former captive! His broken arm and all of his other, lesser injuries were healed, clearly the work of magic. As recognition flashed on Ember's face, her opponent harked out a grating, self-satisfied laugh.
The other red-masked man, more portly and slower than the first, stood back and began chanting. A sickle hung at his side, stained and rusted from much use and little upkeep. On his finger flashed a ring inscribed with the symbol of the skull and sickle. He was a priest of Nerull!
The woman near Brek Gorunn straightened and grabbed a light crossbow slung from her side. It was already cocked. She tried to draw ahead on Ember, but couldn't get a clear shot. She shifted her aim to Hennet, who still stood in the doorway.
Hennet was not unprepared. As the crossbow came up, he released two bolts of his own from his already glowing fingertip. The sorcerous missiles of enchanted force unerringly slammed into the woman. She gasped, but remained upright and fired her crossbow back at the sorcerer. The bolt, retracing the path of Hennet's magical strike, caught the sorcerer in his left arm.
He grunted in pain and surprise. Nebin stepped up next to his wounded friend. The gnome still wore his goggles over his eyes, and in his hands he grasped a wand. It was carved of alder and tipped with a tiny, shining stone. The gnome sighted along the wand, and a splash of clashing colors sprang from the tip to strike the woman trying to re-cock her crossbow. She yelped and dropped to the floor, senseless.
Nebin crowed, "I got one!"
Ember's foe was more cautious than when he last faced her in Volanth. This time he held back, fighting defensively. Three kicks were deflected, and four brutal open-hand blows came to nothing. The man danced to the side, ducked, and backed away, taking little real hurt from her onslaught, but he refrained from exposing himself with attacks of his own. Ember had little time to wonder what he was waiting for.
The portly man's chanting ceased; the priest of Nerull had finished his invocation. A spark of pale green light appeared in midair. The spark gained volume and shape over the space of a heartbeat, and a horror materialized from the sickening light.
The beast was shaped something like a newborn human child, crossed with a giant slug. It was almost man-sized, but it oozed along the floor like a worm, dripping with pale green slime. Its visage was pure horror. The gnome quivered for a moment, then turned and ran.
Ember felt a wave of fear break over her. Her insides churned as her throat constricted to a knot. She wanted to scream, to faint, but most of all to flee. She shot a desperate look at Hennet. The sorcerer seemed to be wavering on the doorstep. Terror twisted his face into a grotesque mask, yet the look from Ember galvanized him.
He yelled, "Nebin! Get back here!"
But the gnome's footfalls were already fading up the stairwell. Ember was glad for any company at all.
The priest of Nerull called aloud to the slug-thing, "Serve us, as we have served you, oh Abyssal Child, oh Servitor of our lord Nerull." He clutched his sickle and moved toward Ember.
The horrid child-face of the slug regarded Hennet. Then it spoke in its cracked, pipe-organ voice, declaring, "I'm going to eat you. First your hands, then your feet, then your heart."
The sorcerer recoiled in disgust. As the abyssal child squirmed toward him, Hennet made a great leap over the thing's back. The creature snapped at him but missed. Ember breathed easier when she saw the sorcerer dart up to Brek Gorunn's side.
If I don't do something to even the odds, thought Ember, these two will finish me.
As the priest's scythe arced toward her, she moved as if to step backward. Lured on by the ruse, the priest stepped forward only to meet the full impact of Ember's circle kick to the crown of his head. She felt the blow travel up her arch into the muscles of her leg. It was a good strike, and the priest fell like a stone.
The abyssal child wormed toward Hennet, who sawed frantically at Brek Gorunn's bindings with a dagger.
"Come on, man!" yelped the dwarf, with his eye on the monster.
Not a second too soon, the line parted. Hennet fell back and the dwarf leaped up and to the side, toward the corner where his captors had tossed his warhammer.
Whirling and striking at the same time, the dwarf swung his hammer desperately and bounced it across the creature's rounded back. Even that glancing blow brought a scream from the monstrous thing, followed by a gobbet of acid. The liquid struck Brek's mail armor, where it sizzled and fumed into a thin line of curling smoke.
Hennet murmured another spell to release two more magical holts of enchantment. They whined through the air and scorched into the creature, which was barely beyond the sorcerer's reach.
It quivered, expanded, and spewed a noxious cloud that fouled the air in the small room as it collapsed. A second later, it faded away as if it had never been.
Brek Gorunn rushed up behind Ember's opponent. Caught off guard, the red-masked man tried to run, but the dwarf's deadly hammer sent him crashing to the stone floor.
5
Ember, Brek Gorunn, Hennet the sorcerer, and the gnome Nebin sat together in the common room of the tavern. They talked quietly of the morning's events.
Two Nerullan cultists were dead and would cause no more trouble. It was clear, however, that after years of banishment, the cult of Nerull was becoming active once again. The taverner may have been merely a dupe, paid for the use of his root cellar and his silence. The murdered woman's companions promised to take him back to Volanth, the closest institution of law. The red-masked cultists were a different matter.
Ember said, "It is a strange coincidence to find the cult here at this inn, unless its influence is wider than I thought. Brek Gorunn and I are on our way to New Koratia to warn my order about the cult's strange hatred of the Enabled Hand."
'"Strange hatred?'" asked Hennet.
"Her chapter in Volanth was wiped out," supplied Brek Gorunn. "We're pretty sure that was done by Nerullan cultists, too."
Nebin gulped, and Hennet said, "I'm so sorry! I…."
"Thank you," replied Ember, expressionless.
"Guess what, Hennet and I are on our way to New Koratia, too," said the gnome. "We're competing in the Duel Arcane. Why don't we go together? They say companions on the road make long journeys shorter. Besides, Hennet has heard all my stories too many times-I need a fresh audience." The gnome laughed.
"What a good idea, Nebin!" enthused Hennet, sitting forward. He stole a quick glance at the monk. "Well, that is, if you'll have us?"
Brek grunted. "A fine idea. Security on the road and all that. Ember?"
"It could be dangerous. If you're willing to join forces, you're more than welcome," said Ember. "You had no cause to help us, but you did anyway. If I could reward you, I would. Accept my thanks instead."
"Anyone would have done the same," said Hennet.
"No one else did."