A thin man, bald and pale, with narrow squinting eyes, pointed ears, and drab black clothes sat at the head of the table on a chair as grand as any throne.
It was the Lord of Bats in his least form. He sat as he always sat, where Japheth had bound him in a feast never-ending.
The warlock sucked in his breath as if struck because of the two people sitting to each side of the Lord of Bats. They shouldn't be there; they couldn't be!
But they were.
One was a woman. Her slender limbs and graceful poise transcended mere humanity. Her white skin literally glowed like moonlight, and her eyes were utterly black. Her hair was dark blue-black, and her ears were pointed. She might have been a moon or sun elf, but he'd never known a moon or sun elf to glow before.
The other was a man in unremarkable clothing. A man whose features were rough and uncouth in comparison to the woman's. A man who was terribly familiar.
"Behroun Marhana?" gasped Japheth.
The man to the Lord of Bats's left turned midsentence. He stopped speaking, and his eyes widened on seeing the warlock.
"Japheth?" asked the man. "Why, it is! Our host never informed me you could visit here in his home-turned-prison."
Japheth's mouth remained open, but he had no words. As unlikely as it was, the man was indeed Behroun. But how? Disorientation made him dizzy. He couldn't connect the threads.
The pale man spoke, "This one stole my skin; he uses it as a cloak. With it, he can travel between the world and my domain." His white hand plucked a cherry tomato the color of blood from a silver platter. He tossed it into his mouth and chewed with gusto.
"What is the meaning of this?" Japheth demanded of the Lord of Bats, attempting to assert some control over events that careened beyond his comprehension.
"I have guests. It has taken me some years, but my invitations finally went out and were answered in person."
The woman merely gazed upon Japheth with emotionless, ageless eyes, as if nothing he could do or say could ever surprise her or break her from centuries-long ennui.
Behroun chuckled, said, "Neifion promised me extraordinary things, but only if I shatter a certain emerald he revealed to me. I think you know the one."
The Lord of Bats glared at Behroun, saying, "You have yet to destroy it."
"Neifion?" wondered Japheth.
"The Lord of Bats has a name, same as you and me," Behroun explained. "But that's hardly important."
"Ah…" temporized the warlock, well beyond his depth. Then, "The Lord of Bats, uh, Neifion, he was the one who told you about my pact stone? I knew it."
"A pact stone," interrupted the pale lord. "Which you stole from me. I sent my last loyal children into the world to find an ally, and found Lord Marhana. He agreed to retrieve my property. But he failed to complete the task I set him."
"Your grace, as I said from the beginning, be patient. When Japheth has finished his current task, I shall give you the emerald as I promised."
"That is what you have been telling me for some time now."
As the Lord of Bats spoke, Behroun absent-mindedly picked up a succulent pear from the table, one of several heaped in a crystal bowl.
The woman to Neifion's right reached her slender arm across the table and slapped the fruit from Behroun's hand before he could take a bite. The fruit spun across the room and landed in shadow.
The woman said, "I told you. Do not eat from this table. If you do, you shall never leave it."
Behroun blanched. "I know that, Malyanna, but damn the old king if this food doesn't look enticing!"
The elflike woman replied, "It is a lethal enchantment given a pleasant guise."
Japheth knew that the woman, whatever her otherworldly origin, spoke the truth regarding the great feast-it was one of the Lord of Bats's own tricks. Japheth had commandeered it and used it against its creator when he'd assumed control. The warlock wondered again if she was native to the bright, fey lands beyond the cave. Perhaps she was a moon elf "noble," an elder native of the Fey wild, inscrutable and dangerous. What was her place in all this? Wag Malyanna her name or a title?
The woman speared Behroun like a fish with her glinting stare. Behroun wriggled and gasped until she turned back to regard Japheth. She said, "You look confused, poor human. For all your stolen power, you're only a plaything here. All of you are, Behroun too, though he thinks himself the ringleader." She sighed and looked to the ceiling as if bored beyond the capacity for words.
The Lord of Bats sucked down another bloody red tomato and announced, matter-of-factly, "I shall murder each of you in a manner so grisly that veteran warriors shall shudder and weep when they hear of it."
The woman continued to inspect the ceiling, her face managing to convey weariness for all its otherworldly perfection.
Behroun spluttered, his features draining of color, "But once I break the pact stone, you will have all you desire, Neifion! You'll have your powers returned, with Japheth here to punish-"
"The longer you delay your side of our agreement, the greater latitude I'll have in interpreting our deal," declared the Lord of Bats, his dead-white lips smacking in anticipation.
Behroun glanced at Malyanna, then he snapped his attention around to Japheth. "Warlock! How goes the mission? How close are you to retrieving this object, what did the captain call it, the Dreamheart?"
With a dull voice, Japheth replied, "We sail to the lair of the creature that holds it even now."
"You hear?" asked the shipping magnate in too loud a voice. "Once I get the Dreamheart, Japheth'll be yours. I'll have all I need to press my claim on Impiltur. With a relic as potent as Captain Thoster claims this one is in my hand, I won't have to be satisfied with a mere seat on the nascent Grand Council. No, with an eladrin queen of the Feywild at my side-"
Malyanna's voice drowned out Behroun with a simple, "Please, don't you ever cease your mortal prattle?"
Behroun's face crumpled. Trying to recover, he snapped his fingers at Japheth. "Shouldn't you get back to your ship?"
Japheth looked at the man. A small man with grand ambitions was Lord Marhana. He had no power of his own, only a knack for being in the right place at the right time. Though he possessed no moral sense, he had a mean, rat-like cleverness.
The warlock once confronted Behroun, asking the merchant why he should do Behroun's bidding. After all, if Japheth did not, Behroun promised to smash the pact stone. On the other hand, Behroun had implied that at some future date he would return the pact stone to the Lord of Bats, who would promptly smash it.
Either way, the stone would be smashed and Japheth would wind up dead. So why, the warlock had yelled, should he do what Behroun wanted when his choice was to die now or die later? Behroun had winked and replied that he didn't actually intend to ever give the pact stone back to the Lord of Bats. Japheth did his bidding, promised Lord Marhana; Japheth could live out his life without fear of being slain by a vicious Feywild spirit bent on brutal revenge.
The memory evaporated in a haze of reignited hate. Emotion burned the warlock's throat as he stepped forward a pace. He was only about ten feet from Lord Marhana's chair.
Japheth asked in a casual tone that belied his anger, "Do you have the pact stone with you now, Behroun?"
Both the woman and the Lord of Bats simultaneously swung their heads around to regard Behroun, real interest animating Malyanna's face for the first time.
"What does that matter?" snapped Behroun.
Japheth advanced another pace. As he did so, he saw the image of someone behind him reflected in a silver decanter. A figure in full, articulated plate armor that shone like gold. The figure held a long sword as if it were weightless. Surprised, he glanced back. Nobody was there. But when he looked in the decanter once more, he saw again the figure. This time, he also noted the armored warrior was limned in small blue and black flames. The cuirass was molded to a figure with a distinctively feminine cast.