And the two weapons reached their startled targets.
One struck Grozier Talricci in the face.
One struck the false Emriana in the face.
Only then did Emriana let out a breath.
The changeling staggered back, shrieking and clawing at its eye where the dagger had embedded itself, destroying the orb. The creature fell to the floor, still looking like Emriana. It thrashed and screamed, making a horrible sound that echoed through the entire room.
Grozier died much more peacefully. He stood for a moment, his knife hand going limp at his side, and tried to focus his eyes on the hilt of the weapon that protruded from his forehead. Then he twitched, dropping the knife from his grasp, and sagged to his knees. Obiron, feeling the grip around his chest loosen, squirmed free. Grozier toppled over, sprawled on the hard stone floor.
Obiron, startled by Grozier's fall, threw his arms around Xaphira's waist. He clung for a few moments, then his mouth opened and he began to sob vigorously. A glance down at the dead man who had recently held him captive brought terror to the frightened boy's sobs.
Xaphira turned and stared at Emriana for a moment, then looked down at her false niece, watching it transform into a gray humanoid with a large, bulbous head as it stopped twitching and screaming and lay still. The room was silent except for Obiron's sobbing.
Sympathetic to her twin, Quindy screamed, and Emriana regretted not having another dagger to throw at Bartimus. Lucky for him, the girl was unharmed. Quindy kicked backward with the heel of her boot, catching Bartimus on the shin.
The wizard yelped and released the young girl, crouching down and grabbing at his leg. Quindy scrambled free of the man, running to Emriana with tears running down her face.
Emriana hugged her niece even as she saw Bartimus straighten and begin to mutter. "Xaphira, he's bolting!" she cried out. Her aunt bent down to pick up her own dagger, but Bartimus was too fast. He finished his arcane phrase, conjuring one of his blue doorways, and just as Xaphira cocked her arm for a throw, the wizard stepped through and was gone.
"Damn," Xaphira said, watching the blue outline of the magical portal fade away. Then she looked at Obiron, who was again staring at Grozier's body. "Don't look," she told the boy gently. He turned his face up to her with big, round eyes.
"He's, he's…"Obiron was trying to say, but he couldn't make the words come out. His head turned toward the body again.
"I know," Xaphira said, squatting next to the boy to hug him more closely. "Look away from it, Obiron." When the boy didn't comply, Xaphira took his chin in her hands and forced him to look at her instead. "It's all right," she said in soothing tones. "He can't hurt you."
Obiron buried his face in her shoulder then, and Emriana saw him shudder.
When the two children had settled themselves, Xaphira stood. "Let's get out of here," she suggested. "I think someone would like to see her children."
Emriana nodded, pausing just long enough to retrieve both of her throwing daggers. She also removed the opal pendant from around the doppelganger's neck. As she stood, she regarded the creature for a moment, studying its pallid gray skin and its revolting head. She remembered the previous night, in Lobra's bedroom.
She gave the body one severe kick, snapping several ribs, then turned around and followed her aunt up the stairs.
Vambran knew what he needed to do. It came to him unbidden, an innate understanding of arcane forces that he could control and manipulate. The sudden insight was no longer as jarring as it once was.
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.