It only took a second for Vercevoran to pin him against the wall. The dragon struck at him. He sidestepped, and the enormous fangs clashed together on empty air. He riposted, but the hunting sword failed to penetrate the reptile's natural armor.
Vercevoran lifted a forefoot. Still caught against the wall, Will poised himself to dodge, and a voice whispered in his mind, commanding him to stand still. He froze, and the dragon's claws slashed in a horizontal arc.
Somehow, at the last possible instant, Will broke free of the compulsion and leaped to the side. Vercevoran's attack caught him anyway, flung him through the air, and only a tumbler's trained reflexes enabled him to roll and avert a skin full of shattered bones when he smashed down on the floor. He scrambled up and took stock of himself. His last-ditch defensive maneuver had thrown off Vercevoran's aim just enough to save him from serious harm. The drake's claws had slashed his leather armor and cut the flesh beneath, but not deeply enough to incapacitate him. Above him on the stairs, the cerebrilith snarled in frustration.
Will didn't think the tanar'ri had any actual reason to be upset. If it could still attack despite the enchantment Pavel had cast to hinder it, then it and Vercevoran were likely to kill the intruders soon enough. It was obvious the hunters couldn't contend with a demon and a dragon simultaneously in that cramped, enclosed arena.
The only hope, then, was to change the game. Grateful that, when Vercevoran had tagged him, the blow had at least served to fling him to a spot where he didn't have his back against a wall, Will spun his warsling and slammed skiprocks into the reptile's head.
"You want me?" he cried. "Here I am! Come get me!"
He faked a dodge to the right, then sprinted toward the smaller door, which was too low and narrow for a full-grown wyrm to use. Will reached it ahead of his pursuer. He plunged through and spun himself to the side, where Vercevoran couldn't reach him. Behind him, the wyrm's claws clacked on the floor, and his tail swept from right to left. Inferring from those noises that the drake had turned, Will risked a peek back inside. Sure enough, Vercevoran was racing toward the double doors on the far side of the hall. When the dragon hit them, they burst apart as if they were made of paper.
When Vercevoran followed Will out into the night, Pavel understood what his partner had in mind. While the halfling led the dragon on a chase, Pavel was supposed to slay the cerebrilith, then dissolve the enchantments holding Vercevoran in thrall. All this in the brief time before an old and powerful dragon would otherwise catch and kill a lone halfling.
Even though the cerebrilith was presumably still blind from the spell he'd cast on it, Pavel had no idea if he was up to the challenge, but knew he had no choice but to try. He began a prayer, reciting the words under his breath so his adversary wouldn't hear.
Then the cerebrilith vanished. Perhaps it had become invisible, but Pavel knew there was another possibility: Some demons could translate themselves instantly from one location to the next. He whirled, and standing more or less erect for the first time, shovel-sized hands poised to rake, jaws gaping, the hulking tanar'ri was right beside him. Though Pavel had blinded it, its clairvoyance enabled it to orient on him.
But maybe the blindness slowed it down. It hesitated before lashing out with its talons, and that gave Pavel time to skip back out of range, still maintaining the precise cadence and enunciation his incantation required.
Red-gold light washed through the room. A luminous mace appeared in the air, then bashed the cerebrilith as if a ghost were swinging it.
Pavel smiled. With luck, the conjured weapon would confuse and hold the demon back while he assailed it with more magic.
But the harassment didn't hinder the cerebrilith as much as he'd hoped. The tanar'ri roared, and a harsh white light blazed from its body. The radiance seared Pavel like a brand, and the agonizing heat didn't end with the flare. The priest looked down. His clothing was on fire.
He dropped and rolled. That extinguished the fire, but by the time he finished, the demon was stooping over him. The hovering mace bashed chips from the bony spikes along its spine, but it ignored the punishment to reach for the human laying supine on the floor.
Pavel swung the enchanted mace of steel and oak he carried in his hand. Sprawled as he was, he had no hope, of striking with much force or accuracy, but somehow managed to knock the cerebrilith's big, gnarled hand away. He scrambled backward, trying to get clear.
He wasn't quick enough. The tanar'ri caught him by the leg and lifted his foot toward its stained, jagged fangs.
"Freeze!" Pavel cried.
That too was a spell, and it snagged the creature's will for a second. He kicked free of the demon's grip.
Not unscathed, however. The creature's talons had pierced his boot and the muscle beneath, and in the course of flailing loose, he tore and enlarged the wounds. When he floundered to his feet, his leg nearly buckled. It would give way if he didn't favor it.
Indeed, he hurt all over, and reckoned he was hurt pretty badly. Fortunately, he could heal himself, but he couldn't focus on that and fend off a demon at the same time. He had to neutralize the tanar'ri first, and quickly, before shock and blood loss eroded a critical measure of his strength and agility.
Commencing another spell, he backed away from the cerebrilith. The demon turned its head, tracking the movement, then vanished from beneath the pounding, luminous mace. The conjured weapon streaked forward, pursuing its target. The line in which it flew pointed to the spot where the creature had reappeared, otherwise Pavel would never have sensed it on his right flank in time to recoil to the left.
Even so, a swipe of its claws ripped his brigandine and scored the skin beneath. It hurt, but he refused to let pain ruin his spell. He kept the rhythm, and lashed his unarmed hand through the proper figure.
Power burned in his palm, and when the cerebrilith lunged after him, he thrust out his hand and discharged it. A beam of brilliant light leaped forth and caught the demon square in the muzzle, shattering a number of its fangs. The tanar'ri stumbled, and the flying mace smashed through a section of the bony extrusions on its spine and started pulping the whorled tissue beneath. The demon fell to one knee. It lifted an arm, evidently to ward off the glowing weapon, but then the limb flopped back to the floor as if it had run out of strength.
Pavel hobbled forward to strike at the cerebrilith. It roared, startling him. Not so weak after all, it grabbed the wrist of his weapon arm and yanked him close. Its jaws spread wide, and alas, Lathander's light hadn't broken all its teeth-it still had all the dentition required to bite him to pieces.
Will knew it would only take Vercevoran a moment or two to dash around the outside of the keep. He spent a precious instant standing still, listening, until he knew from which direction the dragon was coming. Then he sprinted in the other, keeping ahead of his pursuer.
When he'd circled the tower, he dashed on toward the line of outbuildings at the foot of the curtain wall. Zhents, roused by the commotion, were scurrying from the barracks. Some spotted him, and maneuvered to intercept him. Without breaking stride, he spun his warsling. The skiprock cracked into one soldier's head, then rebounded to strike the comrade next to him. The first human fell, and the second reeled.
Then the remaining Zhents balked and peered upward, eyes wide. Will didn't need to look back to know they'd just caught sight of Vercevoran. The dragon was still on his track, and he was flying.