“I remember the first time I snuck his lucky coin from his pouch,” Uldane said. “He got so mad he could hardly speak, and his face was so red I couldn’t help but laugh!”
Shara smiled. “He got used to it soon enough.”
“I made sure he did.” Uldane’s laughter bubbled out again, high and infectious.
A renewed scrabbling at the door wiped the smiles from their faces. “Let’s get that bookcase to the door now,” Shara said.
The scratching sounds continued this time, as if the demons were determined to dig through, or under, the door. With Uldane’s help, Shara got one of the bookcases-made from hard, heavy wood-in place behind the table, strengthening their barricade. As they started toward the next bookcase, though, the sounds on the other side of the door changed. Yowls of fury or pain started up, then the scratching at the door stopped. The howling grew louder, and Shara heard the ring of steel and a blast of fire.
“Perhaps we’re not going to die here after all,” she said.
“Is it Quarhaun?” Uldane asked brightly.
“I don’t know.” She went to the door and pulled at the bookcase they’d just put in place. “But someone’s fighting out there, and now that I’ve caught my breath I think I’d like to be a part of that.”
“You never put the armor back on your leg.”
“It’s full of tooth holes anyway.” She dragged the table a few feet back, walked around it, and pressed her ear to the door.
A fight was definitely going on. She heard weapons thudding into flesh, the snarls and howls of the demons, and what might have been speech in a language she didn’t understand, full of sibilant sounds and low rumbling vowels. More sounds of erupting fire and a crack of lightning suggested that at least one spellcaster was present at well. “It might be Quarhaun,” she said, half to herself, and she lifted the bar from the door and opened it just enough to peek out.
Quarhaun was there, his black eldritch blade crackling with lightning in his hand. His newfound allies were lizardfolk-tall and burly warriors with reptilian heads and long tails, wielding mostly clubs and maces of bone and stone. Angry orange crests adorned the tops of their heads, and their bodies were covered with fine green scales.
“Shara!” the drow warlock called.
Something like joy surged through her as she flung open the door and waded back into battle.
CHAPTER SIX
Roghar scratched his head. “So whatever we’re dealing with is preying on gnolls as well as humans,” he said.
“Well, it makes sense, in a way,” Travic said.
“How so?”
“I mean, the idea that gnolls had dragged Gaele and Marcan away without leaving signs of a struggle was unlikely. I was trying to come up with a theory that fit, and it becomes easier if we abandon the idea that gnolls were the captors.”
“Perhaps there’s some kind of mind control at work,” Roghar said. “Someone enchanting them, luring them away.”
“That opens a whole world of unpleasant possibilities. The best is that it’s some rogue enchanter, more or less a common criminal with magic at his disposal.”
“While the worst is … a lot worse.”
Travic nodded. “A vampire or succubus, maybe even a mind flayer.”
Roghar glanced at Tempest, who had turned away to look out at the ruins again. “Or some kind of possessor,” he whispered to Travic.
The priest’s eyes widened and shot to Tempest as well. Roghar had told him about Tempest’s experience with the possessor demon, and warned him that it was a painful memory for her. “Should we turn back?” Travic said, keeping his voice low. “I can find other help-”
Roghar shook his head. “It’ll be all right.”
“What will?” Tempest asked, turning back to face them. “What are you two whispering about?”
Roghar stammered, trying to find a plausible and gentle lie. While he struggled, Travic stepped forward and put a hand on Tempest’s shoulder.
“I’m just concerned for you,” the priest said. “I don’t want to put you into a situation that’s going to bring up too many difficult memories.”
Roghar rolled his eyes. Honesty was always Travic’s preferred approach, even if it was insensitive or vaguely insulting. But he was a kind man in general, which usually allowed him to speak the truth without hurting feelings.
“You think Nu Alin is involved in this? Here?”
“We have no idea,” Roghar said. “We were just discussing the possibilities. The demon that possessed you, or something like it, is at the outer edge of those possibilities.”
“It’s far more likely an enchanter, maybe a vampire,” Travic added.
“A comforting thought,” Tempest said, the hint of a smile touching her lips. “You know you’ve found success as an adventurer when a vampire is one of your better possibilities.”
Roghar guffawed as a sense of relief washed through him. Such glimpses of Tempest’s wry humor were rare since her possession, and he missed them terribly.
Travic looked toward the morning sun. “Well, if a vampire is what we’re after, we’ve chosen the right time of day,” he said. “Shall we explore farther into the ruins?”
Tempest nodded, still almost smiling, and Roghar’s heart felt light as he lifted his sword to rest on his shoulder and stepped onto the crumbling street that led deeper into the ruins of Nera.
The road that Roghar had chosen more or less at random led quickly to the lip of a crater, one of a few places in the ruined city where the earth had opened up and swallowed the streets and buildings. The largest such crater marked the site of the imperial palace, but several smaller ones were arrayed around it. He sighed and chose a different path that would take him around that obstacle, but Tempest put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Look.” Tempest pointed into the crater.
The depression was a couple dozen yards across, the sides worn almost smooth by a century of rain. Larger chunks of rubble littered the bottom, including recognizable pieces from some of the buildings that lined the edges, as though the crater were slowly expanding and drawing more of the ruins down to its heart. Roghar followed Tempest’s pointing finger and saw what looked like the mouth of a tunnel in the crater’s wall, about halfway down the side opposite where he stood.
“The gods have led us true,” Travic said.
Roghar nodded. The tunnel mouth was clearly in use. Even from his position, he could see a rough path leading up the side of the crater from the tunnel mouth, and the pattern of debris beneath the tunnel suggested that rubble had been cleared out from the interior to make a clear route-presumably leading to some secret lair.
“I never met a tunnel mouth I didn’t like,” Roghar said. “Adventure awaits!”
He started circling around the edge of the crater toward the path, and Tempest hurried after him.
“Roghar, wait!” Travic called.
“What’s the matter?”
Travic frowned, staring down into the crater. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have a strange feeling about this place.”
“You said it yourself. The gods led us here. You’re not getting cold feet now, are you?”
“Of course not. I just think we should approach with caution.”
“Live while you can, my friend!” Roghar said, starting toward the path again. “No telling how long you have left.”
“I’d prefer to prolong those days by exercising the caution and discretion I’ve been given,” Travic muttered, quickening his steps to catch up.
Roghar laughed, but he stopped abruptly when the bowl of the crater sent the sound echoing back to him, louder and harsher. He frowned at the echo and started down the path. His armored feet crunched in the gravel, sending a trickle of pebbles off the side of the path and down into the crater. The crater seemed to magnify every sound.
He made his way along the path, cringing at every sound the crater echoed back to him. As the path took him lower and the earth took him in, the echoes surrounded him-his own footfalls and those of his companions, every crunch of gravel and rustle of cascading debris. He started hearing whispers in the echoes, words he couldn’t understand, although they felt threatening. He stopped and turned to look at Travic and Tempest, and found them glancing around as he was to find the source of the whispers.