“It’s all right now,” Coral answered. From her throat came the scent of cinnamon.
Dragonbait ran the tip of his muzzle along Coral’s neck glands, breathing in the reassuring scent of her love. “I insulted your goddess and your friends and tried to bully you into leaving them. I damned you and left you. How can you forgive me for all of that?” he wondered aloud.
Coral looked up at him. “You said you were sorry, and I know you meant it,” she answered. She stroked his throat with her fingers, and the scent of cinnamon wafted from him so strongly that it masked even the smell of the rotting apples on the ground about them.
He wanted to hold her longer, but Coral pushed him away. “You can’t stay here,” she said. “It’s not safe.”
“We have a hiding place,” Dragonbait said. “I’ll take you there. We’ll surprise the High One.”
“The High One!” Coral gasped. “Grypht is here? Where is he?”
“I’ll take you there. Come.” Dragonbait tugged on Coral’s arm.
“I … I can’t,” the white saurial said, holding her ground.
“You must,” Dragonbait said. “Now that I’ve cured you, you can’t fall under the Darkbringer’s power again.”
“I must go back, or the overlords will look for me in my hut, and they will find the egg.”
“What egg?” Dragonbait asked in surprise.
“My sister Lily’s egg. She died last week. Her mate was an overlord. I’m the only one left to hide the egg. The young can’t work, so the overlords don’t let us hatch our eggs. They break them into the pile to become one with the Darkbringer.”
The scent of baking bread rose from the paladin and his body shook, so great was his fury.
“Champion, wait here. I will get the egg and return,” Coral said.
Dragonbait shook his head. “I’ll go with you.”
“One minute,” Coral said. “If you are to pass unnoticed before the overlords, you’ll need to look as if some plant possesses you.” The priestess pulled a twig of ivy from the ground, fashioned it into a wreath, and laid it over the paladin’s head fin.
“Is there anything else I need to know to pass for one of the possessed?” the paladin asked.
“Hide your weapon in here,” Coral said, holding out her sack.
Dragonbait unfastened his sword and scabbard from his belt and slid them inside, amongst the apples.
Coral embraced him again. “I’m so glad you have come back to us,” she said.
Dragonbait ran his palm along the ridge of her head fin. “So am I,” he replied. “We have to hurry, though. The High One and my other friends will become worried if I’m away too long.”
Coral nodded. She released the paladin and motioned for him to follow her. She led him to a path that twisted down into the vale.
As Dragonbait followed Coral into the clearing at the bottom of the vale, he was reminded of the last verse of the song Alias had sung back at the inn in Shadowdale:
The lyrics described exactly the conditions Dragonbait witnessed. A few members of the tribe, mages and clerics like Coral, wore only a token vine or flower about their heads. Most of the tribe members, though, those who were incapable of casting spells, wore vast tangles of slimy green vines about their legs or waists or throats. The vines grew out of holes in their backs. Dragonbait struggled to keep his face an impassive mask.
He sneaked a quick glance at the huge pile of rotting vegetation that the possessed intended to turn into Moander’s new body. Mages and clerics stood around the mountain of greenery chanting spells at it, while others moved back and forth between it and the forest, building it larger and higher with trees and brush.
Set in rings around the pile were several tiny huts made of pine boughs.
“Here,” Coral whispered, stopping at the entrance to one of the huts in the innermost ring. “The egg is buried under my blanket. I’ll keep watch at the door.”
Dragonbait slipped past the door curtain. The structure was so small he had to duck his head to keep from brushing the roof, and the blanket spread out against the opposite wall was only a pace away. There were no windows in the hut, so the only light was heavily filtered through the needles of pine in the roof and walls. Dragonbait pulled aside the blanket. He tried to use his warmth vision to detect exactly where the egg was buried, but he could see nothing warm in the ground. He began clawing quickly at the dirt, afraid that the egg might have gotten too cold buried in so dark a place.
Outside the hut, he heard Coral chanting a prayer. The woodsmoke scent of devotion drifted though the pine boughs. No doubt she was casting something to protect herself, perhaps even to make her less noticeable to the enemy all around them. Coral was a priestess of the goddess of luck. She would be a powerful addition to the attack the High One planned. He had to get her back to the Singing Cave. He began to dig with even more energy.
After several minutes, when he’d dug up nearly half the floor of the hut and still found nothing, Dragonbait finally realized there was no egg. Moander’s higher minions, the overlords, must have found it while Coral was out picking apples, The paladin swallowed hard, knowing the pain the priestess would suffer when he told her.
He began to slip past the curtain over the door, but as he did, a powerful electrical tingling ran down his shoulder, and he leaped back into the hut. Someone outside yanked the curtain aside. Dragonbait peered out. Several saurial mages and clerics stood outside the door, staring at him. The paladin looked around anxiously for Coral. Have they discovered her, or has she escaped? he wondered.
Then Coral stepped in front of the doorway, and his heart sank. The priestess wore a clean white robe. Painted in red in the center of the robe was an eye, surrounded by a mouth of fangs—the symbol of Moander’s high priest.
“Well, Champion,” Coral said, “you wanted me to give up my goddess for another. What do you think of my choice?”
Dragonbait was too shocked to reply. He could only manage to mumble, “But I cured you!”
Coral laughed. “You fool! Your feeble power can have no influence on the Mouth of Moander. The root of the Darkbringer was planted in me months ago. It grows strong in every limb, down my tail, and even in my brain. You are getting careless, paladin. There was a time when you never met anyone—friend or stranger—without using your shen sight. You were always keeping watch over our souls, judging us constantly. Yet how eagerly you came to me today, even after I warned you. I knew you’d never believe my warning.”
“I loved you,” Dragonbait said. “Coral, I’m sorry this happened to you.”
The priestess scowled. “You should be, paladin, for now I am your doom. While you were busy digging for Lily’s egg—which, by the way, went into the pile with my sister’s corpse—I traced a glyph of warding around this hut. You cannot escape. Moander’s root could never grow in anything as pure as you, but you will serve Moander in another way. Where you are, the servant can’t be far off. She will come to rescue you, and we will capture her. Then we will sacrifice you to bind the servant’s will to Moander’s.”
“You can’t bind Alias to Moander as long as Moander isn’t in the Realms,” Dragonbait protested.
“Moander will take possession of its new body before the moon sets tonight,” Coral announced.