One moment, Vambran was trapped, standing next to Junce as the noxious gas from the broken beaker billowed ever closer. The next instant, he was conjuring a force, a wall of wind, setting it to push the vapors and drive them away. He didn't understand how he knew what to do, but he was thankful for the gift.
The lieutenant looked at Junce, trying to decide if he should kill the man right there. The assassin was still watching the fumes from Rodolpho's attack, not yet understanding that he was safe from them for the moment. Vambran wanted to strike. He truly did. All of the hatred, the sorrow for losing those who had died, could be directed at the man in black easily enough.
But other problems demanded to be dealt with.
The seven apprentices, their red pinprick eyes smoldering with unabashed malevolence, approached, clawed hands outstretched. They tried to push Vambran and Junce into a retreat, to drive them toward the noxious fumes.
Vambran decided that Junce could wait.
"The plague can't reach us," he said. "I blocked it. But the only way we'll survive is if we fight them," he said to the assassin. He left unspoken the word "together," unable to stomach it, but he hoped that Junce understood.
Junce regarded Vambran for a moment, his eyes wide with concern. Vambran could tell the man didn't trust him. "Rodolpho's getting away," Vambran said pointedly.
Junce grinned then, a slight smile, not overly warm or friendly, but a smile nonetheless. He turned and lunged at the first apprentice, driving his blade through its chest. The creature staggered back, swaying on its feet, but two others snarled and rushed in, trying to take down the assassin.
Vambran slashed at the closest of the undead, deflecting its first blow. The mercenary parried another strike, then kicked at the foe, sending it stumbling into a spike-lined post. One of the many spikes protruded from the creature's abdomen, sending a trickle of pus running down its robes, but it did not seem harmed by the wound and struggled to extract itself from its own impalement.
Three more of Rodolpho's pets came at Vambran, their red eyes blazing in hatred. The trio lunged and feinted frequently, testing the lieutenant. They didn't seem to want to strike him so much as keep him at bay, and Vambran realized their primary task was to prevent him from getting past them and going after Rodolpho.
"They want to keep us cornered," Junce said, echoing Vambran's own thoughts as he battled his own adversaries. "Makes it harder to fight."
"But harder for them to surround us," Vambran rebutted. "Which do you prefer?"
Junce didn't answer.
Since the undead weren't keen on taking the fight to him, Vambran decided to call on his faith. Grasping his holy coin with his free hand, he drew in divine energy, drawing himself up to his full imposing height. He held out the coin at the three apprentices fighting him. "I condemn you, abominations!" he shouted, focusing Waukeen's glory at the corpses. "I defy and condemn you. Go now! Harry me no more!"
The closest one cringed and fell back, throwing an arm up across its face, but the others ignored Vambran's command and closed ranks. The mercenary swore softly.
"That was cute," Junce said. "Very effective."
"I'm not seeing you doing any better," Vambran retorted.
One of the undead things was sidling down the wall to Vambran's right, trying to get on his flank. With a growl, Vambran sliced at it, drawing a deep gash across its shoulder, cutting almost all the way through the limb. The thing halted, staring at its arm, which hung limply by a few strands of desiccated tissue and fabric. But Vambran didn't have a chance to finish it off, for the other two monsters were taking advantage of his momentary distraction and closing in.
The first went in low, trying to grab for his legs, while the second one raked at his face with its claws. Vambran parried the high attacks, lopping off a few fingers in the process, but the move allowed the other corpse to encircle his leg, dragging its claws down the flesh above his boot. The mercenary yelped in pain and stabbed downward, driving his blade through the creature's back. The thing jerked, let out an unnatural keening wail, and released Vambran, jerking its arms back over its head, trying to reach the blade that pinned it to the floor.
Vambran used the opportunity to move, yanking his blade up only when he had stepped out of the apprentice's reach. He was breathing hard and the wounds on his leg throbbed, but he could do nothing but ignore them-the fingerless adversary was coming at him again. He stabbed at it, but it anticipated the attack and shifted out of the way. It lunged toward the lieutenant's unprotected side, its teeth bared, and Vambran had to retreat from the bite, causing him to bump against Junce.
"Watch it," the assassin growled as he shifted his weight, knocking a clawed hand to the side. "You're messing me up."
"Happy to help," Vambran retorted, but he discovered-almost to his chagrin-that he could move well with his counterpart, feel the assassin's motions and react accordingly. They began fighting as a team, back to back, keeping the undead things at bay. As they worked, they gradually moved toward the center of the room. Vambran could sense that Junce was guiding them both there, and he had to choose between going with the assassin's intentions or breaking off the teamwork and dueling his undead foes on his own. He chose to stick with Junce.
He's an excellent fighter, Vambran grudgingly admitted, working to keep up with the other man's blazing quickness and sure footwork. Just makes killing him later more satisfying, the mercenary told himself.
The pair continued to battle, working their foes, watching both flanks. Vambran was growing tired and they still faced five of the seven undead, though all were missing limbs and stumbling with noticeable limps. Can't do this much longer, the lieutenant thought. And they don't seem to get tired. But he refused to give up. The people of Reth were counting on him, whether they understood that or not. Behind him, Junce battled just as fiercely, moving in unison with Vambran. Each man guarded the other as they fought, flicking a sword strike out from time to time to deflect a blow meant for the other. They moved well together, battling the undead beasts.
At long last, only two of the creatures remained standing, and Vambran saw his chance. He feinted a cut toward the one battling him, and when it reacted, he kicked out hard, shoving the undead brute away from himself. Before it had a chance to recover, Vambran took off, running for the door that Rodolpho had used to escape.
"Hey!" Junce called out from behind the lieutenant, but Vambran ignored the man. Flinging open the door, the mercenary raced through the portal and found a set of steps leading up. They were narrow and spiraled tightly, but he never hesitated. He took them two at a time, using the wall for support. His arms and legs were weary, but he refused to stop. Rodolpho was up there.
Farther up, Vambran was forced to stop skipping over steps, but he fought through the burning pain in his thighs and kept going, up and up, his breath ragged. He knew he was climbing to the top of the tower, the highest feature of all of Reth. That made the task more daunting. To spur himself on, Vambran reminded himself of all the people who had died because of Rodolpho's terrible creation. He reminded himself of Elenthia, not knowing what had become of her, and the responsibility he felt for her.
After what seemed like an ascent into the heavens themselves, Vambran reached another door. He threw it open and found himself on the top of the tower of the Palace of the Seven, an open platform surrounded by waist-high battlements. Rodolpho was there, staring down at the city below. As Vambran stood in the doorway, gasping, the man spun around to face him. The look on his face was one of dismay and horror.
"What did you do?" Rodolpho demanded, pointing down past the edge of the wall. "My plague! You're destroying my plague!"