Uldane swung around to stare at him. “Really?”
Roghar’s snout wrinkled in annoyance at the challenge, but Padraig only shook his head. “Save Bahamut’s favor for those who need it more than I do.”
“Few enough of those,” said the man at his side. “Unless you can bring the dead back to life.”
Padraig nudged him again, but not too hard. The lord of Winterhaven’s gaze remained on Uldane. “You should go, too.”
“Go?” The flutter in Uldane’s chest turned into a wild flapping like an agitated bird. “Go where? What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s nothing more for you here. You and your friends should leave Winterhaven. Emotions run high after a battle.” Padraig nodded to Roghar. “Paladin, thank you for your service in battle.”
“Bahamut demands no less, my lord.”
And with that, Padraig turned away, leaving Uldane to stare after him in shock. The halfling might have followed, but Roghar shifted to herd him in the other direction. “You heard what Padraig said,” he muttered. “We should be on our way. We’ve outstayed our welcome.”
“Outstayed? This is my home!” protested Uldane. “I lived here until a few months ago.” He tugged away from Roghar. “And what do you mean you’ve called on Bahamut’s favor too much? I’ve never seen you turn away someone who needed help.”
Roghar’s jaw tightened. “Just because you’ve never seen something doesn’t make it impossible. Besides, Padraig himself said he didn’t need my healing.” He looked around, then took a firm grip on Uldane’s shoulder and propelled him onward. “Let’s get to the others.”
There was no question of where they would find Belen, Tempest, and especially Albanon. Toward the gate in the center of the area most heavily scarred by lightning, the eladrin wizard sat with his head in his hands. Tempest and Belen stood by him, not so much to give him comfort as to warn off anyone with thoughts of revenge. They looked relieved at Uldane and Roghar’s approach, though it seemed to Uldane that all they’d had to deal with were angry looks. No one was coming close. Though all the other corpses nearby had been collected, three corpses lay undisturbed: Vestagix, Immeral, and, at Albanon’s feet, Splendid.
Roghar wasted no time. “Padraig says we should be on our way.”
“He’s right,” said Belen. “When the Winterhaveners stop feeling stunned, they’re going to be angry. We’re lucky-the stable didn’t catch fire and whoever cleared out the inn before the flames took hold threw most of our gear out along with everyone else’s.” She kicked a little pile of packs with her toe. “I don’t think we’d be so fortunate now.”
“Good,” Roghar said. “I’ll get the horses and be right back.”
Anger boiled over inside Uldane. “No,” he said. “We’re not going yet.” He marched up to Albanon. The wizard raised his face-and Uldane slapped it. “By the gods, what happened? What was that?”
Albanon’s head just dropped again. “I told you about the power I felt while I was under Tharizdun’s influence. That was it.”
That gave even Uldane pause. “You called on the Chained God’s power?”
“It’s not Tharizdun’s power. It’s my power. He just showed me how to use it. All of it.” Albanon scrubbed his fingers and palms across his face. “Vestagix killed Immeral, then Splendid. It put me over the edge. I needed to stop him.”
“Vestagix was dead before you summoned the lightning, Albanon,” said Roghar gently. “I killed him.”
Albanon peered at him, the blue orbs of his eyes bright between long, pale fingers. “He was a part of Vestapalk, some kind of extension of him just like the plague demons are an extension of the Voidharrow. You killed a body. I needed to stop Vestapalk.”
He sighed, dropped his hands, then bent over to pick up and cradle Splendid’s body. Her neck was snapped like a chicken’s. Uldane’s friendship with the pseudodragon hadn’t been deep-she’d been too much like a prim spinster for him to really like her-but even he felt she deserved better than that, especially after risking herself to save Albanon.
“I didn’t see any point in restraining myself when all my restraint had done was let Splendid and Immeral die,” Albanon continued, stroking Splendid’s scales. “I couldn’t let the demons overrun Winterhaven but I didn’t realize how far I might go to defeat them.” He glanced up at Uldane and Roghar. “When you tried to stop me, I thought you were plague demons, too. I came this close to turning the lightning on you as well. I’m never going to let my resistance down again.”
“Don’t say never,” said Tempest. She kneeled down beside Albanon. “That wasn’t you. Maybe it was your power as you say, but I can’t believe it was really you that used it to destroy Winterhaven. You wouldn’t do that. When I was possessed by Nu Alin-when Belen was possessed by Nu Alin-we did some terrible things, but it was him using our bodies to do them. It wasn’t us.”
Albanon looked at her. “But you fought him, didn’t you? I didn’t. I embraced what Tharizdun offered.” He nodded at Vestagix’s corpse. “Am I any different than him or Vestapalk?”
“Of course you are,” said Uldane without hesitation. He meant the words wholeheartedly, but they slipped out before he even realized they were on his tongue. Suddenly, all the others were looking at him. He winced and pressed ahead. “For one thing,” he said, “you regret what you’ve done. Whenever we’ve faced Vestapalk, it’s been clear he only cares about gathering power. Look what’s come out of that-Winterhaven destroyed, Fallcrest barely hanging on, and the Abyssal Plague spreading across the Nentir Vale and beyond. You care about people, Albanon. You held that power in because you didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
Albanon wrinkled his nose. “I wanted to hurt the demons.”
“Don’t talk, just listen.” Uldane was rolling now. His speech was a little fire burning steadily in his belly. He drew his dagger. “When my uncle gave me my first dagger-not just a knife, but a real weapon-he said, ‘Uldane, someday you’re going to have to kill people with this. You might hurt people with it when you don’t mean to, as well. Don’t blame the dagger and don’t blame yourself. It’s a tool. Anyone can have an accident with a tool.’ ”
“An accident with your dagger isn’t going to destroy half a village.”
Uldane flipped the dagger around in his hand and with a quick flick of his wrist sent it skimming past Albanon’s ear, close enough that a few gleaming silver hairs went drifting to the ground. The dagger stuck into a post some distance behind him. Albanon yelped and flinched. Uldane folded his arms and continued, “We all have to live with what we do. An accident is an accident, even if it started as something stupid-”
“ That was stupid!” snapped Albanon, running his fingers over his ear.
“I would never have hit you,” said Uldane. “Anyway, the point is you don’t just blame a tool and throw it away.”
“You threw your dagger away,” Belen said.
Uldane glared at her, and then at Tempest as the tiefling added, “I thought the point was that accidents happen when you give sharp things to Uldane.”
“I’m more concerned that Uldane’s uncle was encouraging him to kill people at a young age,” said Roghar.
“Enough!” Uldane stamped his foot angrily. He looked to Albanon. “Do you still feel that urge drawing you north?” The eladrin nodded. “Are we going to keep following it, looking for a way to stop Vestapalk?”
Albanon hesitated then stood up, his mouth set in a grim line. “I want to stop Vestapalk more than ever now.”
“What if you need to use that power against him? You said it was Tharizdun’s influence that showed you how to use it-and you said you thought the urge was something the Chained God’s touch put in you. What if they’re connected?”
Albanon’s expression grew even grimmer. “If I have the chance to turn it against Vestapalk,” he said, “I will.”
“No matter what the cost?”
The wizard froze at the suggestion. He looked down at Splendid, cradled in his arms. Doubt and conflict showed in his face. Uldane reached up and wrapped his hand around one of Albanon’s.