Unfortunately the Turmishman didn’t appear to have weathered the cold spell very well. He wasn’t breathing. Grypht’s people could breathe even when they fell into a torpid state, but the saurial had no idea what was normal for these chirping apes.
He sighed to himself. Killing Kyre had been far more important than worrying about who got in the way—even if that person had been responsible for freeing him and was a friend of Champion’s. Champion, however, would probably not see it that way. The paladin is always so damned idealistic, Grypht thought.
Grypht pulled a small bottle out of the sleeve of his robe. There was a chance it would prove unsafe for the creature on the floor, but he had to risk it. He unstoppered the bottle and poured its contents between Akabar’s lips.
Akabar coughed back some of the thick liquid, but he must have swallowed some, for a moment later, he breathed a shuddery breath, then another and another. He did not regain consciousness, but his complexion turned from gray to his normal brown, a change that seemed like a good sign to Grypht. The saurial turned his attention back to the remains of Moander’s servant.
There was nothing left of Kyre but ashes. Grypht used his staff to stir through them and knock aside the unburnt items Kyre had carried and worn—a dagger, a sword, a belt, a scabbard, three more walnut-shaped soul traps, two gold rings, a silver pin of a crescent moon and harp, and her boots. Always a careful scavenger, Grypht turned her smoking boots upside down. A silver ankle bracelet tumbled from one boot, and from the other a large yellow gem—the one the ape Finder had used to cast a tongues spell.
Grypht pocketed the yellow gem. He crushed the soul traps in his bare paws, but no other beings rose from the broken shards. The traps had been unused. Remembering the last trap Kyre had triggered, the saurial searched the floor until he discovered it under a chair and smashed it with his staff.
Time to leave this vermin-infested ape lair, he thought, rising to his feet. He looked down at the Turmishman. He’d have to take the creature with him. It had freed him from Kyre’s trap; it stood to reason it was an enemy of the Darkbringer, and leaving it here would endanger it further. If it recovered, it might be able to help him find Champion. He bent back down, swaddled Akabar in his cape, and slung him over his shoulder.
Unbowed by the weight of the merchant-mage, Grypht strode over to the window and stuck his head out. There was a river to his left, and beyond that a temple, but beyond the temple lay a forest. He looked long and hard at the tree line, first estimating its distance, then checking to be sure there were no other apes nearby.
Exuding the scent of fresh-mown hay, Grypht shifted himself and his burden through a dimensional portal. A moment later, he stood at the edge of the tree line across the river. He glared back at the twisted tower of Ashaba, glad to be free of it, and then turned and lumbered into the forest.
As Grypht carried Akabar Bel Akash from the Tower of Ashaba, he failed to note he was being observed. He was tired and wounded and preoccupied with how he would find Champion. Even if he had been fresh and alert, the saurial wizard might not have sensed the eyes watching him, for those eyes spied upon him with magic from over a hundred miles away.
The Mouth of Moander, high priestess of the Darkbringer, regarded Grypht’s fleeing image in an enchanted pool of water. Moments after Moander had used the possessed body of the Harper Kyre to stun Akabar, the god had sent the Mouth of Moander to the pool to cast a spell to scry upon the half-elf. It was important to the Darkbringer that the high priestess see this Turmishman whom the god desired to possess beyond all others.
The previous year when Moander had possessed Akabar, the god had been so pleased with the mage’s well-trained mind and talents that it had taken special care with the mage’s body so the possession could be permanent. The god had made the error, though, of using Akabar in a battle against his own friends, and the paladin Dragonbait had managed to free the mage. Afterward, Akabar succeeded in destroying Moander. Now, though, the god had possessed new minions and had forced them to built it a new body. Moander demanded that Akabar be brought to the body to witness its resurrection.
Akabar had proven difficult to find, though. He had left Turmish, and some powerful misdirection spell made it impossible for the Mouth of Moander to discover the mage with scrying magic. Moander suspected Akabar was in Alias’s company, so Kyre had been sent to Shadowdale to discover if the Nameless Bard knew of Alias’s or the mage’s whereabouts. Kyre had succeeded in discovering Akabar and separating him from Alias or whatever had protected him from scrying magic. Moander was too pleased with the half-elf’s successes to be annoyed by the inconvenience of her violent death.
The images of Grypht and Akabar began to blur and fade as the scrying spell cast on the pool of water wore off, but not before the Mouth of Moander had time to note that Grypht fled west from Shadowdale.
“Kyre recruited other servants on her way to Shadowdale,” the Mouth of Moander said. “It will be a simple matter to send flyers to alert them to intercept Grypht and Akabar. The Turmishman will not escape the destiny the Darkbringer has assigned to him.”
The two saurial priests who attended the priestess nodded.
“The flyers are too weak to travel so far,” the priestess cried suddenly with vehemence.
The two priests shifted uneasily. The priestess’s habit of arguing with herself frightened all her people who witnessed it.
“They only need to fly away,” the priestess answered herself with a cooler tone of voice. “It matters not if they return.”
The Mouth of Moander glared at her reflection on the dark surface of the pool of water. A female saurial with pearly white scales glared back up at her with disgust. Before Moander had possessed her, her name had been Coral, and she had served the goddess of luck. Then she had protected all her people, but now, because she had been too weak to resist Moander, there was no evil the god could not force her to perpetrate on even the smallest or most innocent saurial.
For the moment, Moander had loosened its hold on her mind, as it always did after having used the priestess’s body to cast a powerful spell such as scrying. Coral fought against the control of the Darkbringer so strongly that the god was forced to withdraw so their battle of wills did not use so much energy that the tendrils of possession controlling the priestess were destroyed.
Moander lurked in the back of Coral’s consciousness, though, ready to pounce on her thoughts should she try to act against the god. In the meantime, the god savored with a cruel delight the anguish and horror Coral felt at every action it forced her to perform. Most especially, the Darkbringer enjoyed controlling the priestess and forcing her to speak aloud its evil thoughts. Unable or unwilling to keep her emotional outbursts in check, Coral always argued aloud with what the god had made her say. Hence the priestess appeared to be arguing with herself.
None of Coral’s people understood what was really happening. Although all the members of her tribe who had been captured by Moander were infected with its tendrils of possession, most were only controlled physically. The Darkbringer had no need to control the minds of ordinary saurials; however, the god had magically shackled the thoughts of any spell-casting saurials it caught. The ordinary saurials thought the priestess had turned evil and insane, while the spell-casters, who had been enchanted to love the Darkbringer, thought the priestess was merely insane.
“If Grypht cannot be captured,” Moander said, addressing the priests through Coral’s mouth, “he must not be left alive. He might yet find allies to interfere with our plans. He searches now for Champion, the paladin whom people of this world call Dragonbait. If our servants discover Champion, however, they must bring him to me alive. In order to enslave the servant Alias to the master’s will, Champion must be sacrificed with special ceremony. Mine will be the hand that destroys the paladin.”