But Belen wasn’t the only one who had changed. Shara heard quiet footsteps approach and another shape loomed in the dark. “It’s me,” said Albanon.
“I may not be able to see, but I’m not an idiot,” she told him. She dropped her voice. “What’s wrong with Roghar?”
“I don’t know. He’s been like this since…”
He hesitated, but Shara could guess what he was going to say. She said it for him. “Since Winterhaven? Uldane told us what happened there. I’m sorry about Splendid, Albanon. I never met Immeral, but he sounded like a good man.”
“Thank you,” said Albanon. “I’m sorry, too. It was your home. Before the plague demons attacked, hearing you and Quarhaun had been there just a few days before was a bright spot.”
“Was it really?” Quarhaun asked.
“Yes. I’ve missed both of you. I’d rather you hadn’t left.” He hesitated a second time. “Uldane said you talked after he found you. Did you talk about… that?”
Quarhaun actually laughed under his breath. Shara squeezed his hand again, this time hard enough to make him stop. “We cleared the air between us,” she said. “I was sitting in that tent, wondering who the travelers were that the Tigerclaws were honoring with a feast, when I heard something behind me…”
The sight of the halfling’s startled face as he crawled up under the tent wall had been the last thing she’d expected to see-and the most welcome. But it had also come with a few long moments of simply staring at each other awkwardly, neither certain of what to say. What had eventually come out was a babble of apologies, kept to a whisper so as not to wake the dozing guard outside. If the last words she’d exchanged with Uldane in Fallcrest had been a torrent of angry accusations, their reunion had been marked with tears and self-recrimination. Mostly from Uldane, true, though she’d felt moved as well. Shara wasn’t a born storyteller like some people, but she knew she’d be able to repeat Uldane’s apology word for word until she the day she died.
“I jumped to conclusions,” the halfling had said. “I judged Quarhaun as a drow before I knew him as a person. Jarren was a great man and my friend, but he’s gone. I know you can’t spend your life mourning him.”
“Uldane, I’ll always mourn Jarren,” she told him.
“But you’ll change-and I know that’s good because Quarhaun has changed for you, but I want everything to stay like it was when we were all happiest.” He sighed. “So maybe I’m the one who needs to change. So many people have died because of Vestapalk and this stupid plague. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you for loving someone else. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?” He went over and pulled off Quarhaun’s hood. “Can you forgive me, too?”
The effect of the apology was somewhat spoiled because Quarhaun was gagged under the hood, but the drow nodded vigorously, then twisted around and gestured for his bonds to be cut. Uldane had freed them both, but he also took the time to tell them everything that had happened and exactly what their situation was.
“I had thought staying in the tent and waiting for him to come back from talking to you and Turbull was the hardest thing I’d ever done,” she told Albanon. “Until we heard the Tigerclaws coming back. With no idea how things stood, we had to go back to pretending to be helpless. That was hard.”
“Why didn’t you just run?” Albanon asked. “You could have gone out the back of the tent and been away before anyone knew you were missing.”
“Uldane told us not to,” said Quarhaun. “He said the Tigerclaws would just hunt us down and that it would be harder for you afterward. Confronting Turbull directly and demanding our release was his idea.”
Surprise forced Albanon’s voice higher. “Uldane said not to run? Uldane?”
“I can hear you, you know,” Uldane called from up ahead. “And you don’t have to act all shocked about it. Like I told Shara, people can change.”
“I just didn’t think it would be you!” Albanon called back.
Uldane’s huff of indignation was loud enough to carry. Tempest laughed and so did some of the Tigerclaws.
Roghar crashed into another bush in the darkness. “By Hota’s eye!” said Turbull out of the shadows. “Will someone guide the dragonborn!”
“No one touch me!” The dim figure that was Roghar thrashed its way out of the bush and dropped into a defensive crouch. “Stay back!”
“Roghar?” Albanon said with concern. Shara heard him leave her side. All around them, the faint sounds of the Tigerclaws moving through the woods ceased. She heard Tempest murmur to Belen and Uldane, then move back to her friend as well.
“What’s happening?” she whispered to Quarhaun, but the drow put a finger to her lips. Albanon and Tempest were both speaking softly as they approached Roghar. It sounded like they were the only ones moving. She heard Roghar draw a ragged breath.
“I need a moment,” he said. “I need to pray.” His voice trailed off, but Shara thought she heard him say something about holy light or something similar.
Albanon must have heard more. “I’m going to make a light, Turbull,” he said sharply. “Roghar needs it.”
He didn’t wait for an answer from the Tigerclaw chief. A glow sprang to life, shining from the end of Albanon’s staff. At any other time, Shara might have called it dim, but it seemed like a blaze in the darkness. It lit up Albanon’s and Tempest’s faces-grave with concern-and shone over Roghar. Shara realized that what she’d taken for a fighting stance was actually a weary slump. Roghar looked exhausted. Tempest crouched down beside him.
“Take a moment,” she said. “Pray if you need to.”
The paladin nodded. He slipped his shield from his arm and turned it around so that the symbol of Bahamut painted on its surface faced him, then he leaned his head against it. His face vanished in the shadow, but Shara could see his teeth flash as he murmured. His big frame seemed to shake with the weight of his prayer.
Then a new white light shimmered into existence. It appeared to condense out of the air and skip along the surface of Roghar’s armor. Shara had seen the radiant light of the gods before-the paladin had summoned it and so had Kri before he turned on them-but as it hovered over the suffering dragonborn in the darkness of the forest, it seemed more a sacred and holy thing than ever before. She wasn’t an overly religious person and the simple expression of faith made her want to drop to her knees. Half-glimpsed in the shadows, she saw some of the Tigerclaws touch talismans and amulets, their eyes wide.
The holy light lingered a moment longer, then sank into Roghar, passing right through his armor. He drew another breath, this one sharp but strong, and raised his head. His eyes were clear again, his gaze calm and steady. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We should hasten on. I’ll accept a guide. Albanon, you can dismiss the light.”
“You can keep it for now,” said Turbull. The shifter stood on the edge of Albanon’s illumination with Cariss and Hurn to either side of him. All three looked a little awed. “There’s nothing nearby we need to worry about alerting.”
“You’re sure?” asked Albanon.
Turbull blinked as if waking and some of the awe faded. He bared his teeth. “Keep it,” he confirmed gruffly. “If nothing else, we’ll move faster if the day-eyes can see where they’re going.” He turned away, then glanced over his shoulder. “Paladin, if you can offer a blessing before the battle, we’ll take it.”
“What I have to offer is yours as long as I have it to offer,” Roghar said. He nodded to Albanon. The eladrin, looking relieved, moved up to where Belen and Uldane were waiting. Shara would have gone too, but Quarhaun kept hold of her.
“Have I told you the drow saying about never trusting the word of devils or dragons?” he asked quietly.
“No, but why? Roghar might be a dragonborn, but he isn’t a dragon.”
“That’s not what I meant. Dragons and devils never tell the whole truth. They always speak in conditionals. Why didn’t Roghar just tell Turbull yes?” Quarhaun moved close. “Don’t say anything to the others. Maybe I’m wrong. Watch your friend, my love. Something isn’t right and sometimes it takes someone who has been away to see that.”