"You have come to free Chare'en," the Ravenwitch stated. It wasn't a question.
Chapter Fourteenth
Whitlock's wounds appeared much worse than they really were. He had lost a great deal of blood, but the injuries weren't deep. His naked, cut, and torn flesh was covered with ravens' blood, and a fair amount of it had poured into his wounds. The Ravenwitch had made him a part of some evil ceremony or ritual, but Melann didn't know enough about her to even guess at what its goal had been.
The Ravenwitch seemed to have turned her attention toward Vheod. She didn't even seem to care that Whitlock had been freed from his bonds or that Melann was in the process of preparing a healing blessing.
Vheod stared at the Ravenwitch, speechless. His arms hung limply at his side, and his face showed that her words had struck him with a wound more grievous than any weapon could possibly inflict.
"Do you deny that you are the descendant of the balor, Chare'en?" the Ravenwitch asked him, stepping toward him.
Melann watched as Vheod's face changed. The look of pain and horror shifted with disquieting swiftness to one of deep need or hunger. She continued to tend to her brother's wounds, but her eyes couldn't leave Vheod.
"Vheod?" Melann's tone spoke a thousand questions, the answer to any of which might easily break her heart.
"I deny nothing, witch” – Vheod said. The beginnings of a smile came to his lips. Rather than gladden Melann, the sight of that smile terrified her.
"You have come here in error then, cambion," the Ravenwitch told him softly. "Your master isn't here, His prison lies in a cavern miles to the south."
Vheod began to speak again, but stopped. Melann, from behind the Ravenwitch, still kneeling at her brother's side, interrupted him. She could think of nothing more to say than simply, "Vheod?"
The sound of her voice seemed to bring about another change in him. He looked past the Ravenwitch to Melann. He stared at her a moment as she helped her brother. Vheod's face changed, and his eyes seemed to grow softer. He looked to the Ravenwitch again, but the smile had vanished.
"I have no master, witch!” – he shouted in defiance. The Ravenwitch was silent for a moment, her body perfectly still, then slowly turned and looked back and down at Melann and Whitlock. Perhaps she'd simply followed Vheod's gaze, or maybe she had some dire plan for the siblings. Melann would believe anything at this point. Still looking at Melann and Whitlock, the Ravenwitch said simply, "I see."
"You mistake me for someone or something else, I think, witch," Vheod said, seemingly steeling himself as he straightened his back. The muscles in his neck and arms tightened. "I've come to ensure that Chare'en is not freed. I don't wish his evil loosed on this world." The Ravenwitch turned back to Vheod. She moved even closer to him, close enough for her to lay a long-fingered hand on his shoulder. Vheod remained rigid.
"If that is truly your goal, cambion, then you will fail." She said.
"Do not threaten me," Vheod spoke through clenched teeth.
"I do not threaten. I speak of the future, and the certainties I have seen in divination. You will free Chare'en."
Vheod remained silent.
"I suspect, then, after you free him and he gathers the army of creatures that already amassed waiting for him, you will fight at his side. The two of you can carve a fiendish kingdom of evil for yourselves. You'll fight even against the arrayed armies of Cormyr and the kingdoms to the south, spreading destruction as only tanar'ri truly can. I don't wish to oppose such a powerful menace. I want to survive." The Ravenwitch gestured with open palms toward Vheod, but Melann was sure her narrowed eyes concealed something.
Melann looked down at Whitlock and called on the power of Chauntea to heal her brother. As she prayed, a bluish-white glow flowed from her fingertips to Whitlock's flesh. The light caressed his bloody wounds, erasing them from his body as though they had never been. Whitlock's eyes fluttered open, and he opened his mouth to speak, but all he managed was to cough up dark blood-raven's blood.
"What have you done to my brother?" Melann demanded, interrupting the strange, disturbing conversation Vheod and the Ravenwitch were having. She held on to Whitlock as he spat out the blood and moaned.
"I did nothing," the Ravenwitch said, circling around Vheod then turning to face Melann from behind him. "I was about to grant him the greatest gift within my power. A blessing, really,"-she shook her head slightly-"but you stopped it. Without the infusion of ravens' blood, now that the magical process is ruined, hell be nothing but a human." She looked at Vheod from behind him. "Your tendency to thrust yourself into situations you don't fully understand will be your downfall, cambion."
Vheod turned to face her. "I am certain whatever you were doing to him was something that was rightfully ended. Do not attempt to trick me with sly wordplay, Ravenwitch. I lived for years among the sharp and slippery tongues of the tanar'ri, skilled in eons of temptation and betrayal. You will not fool me with your lies."
"But," the Ravenwitch retorted, "I was going to make him my servant. He would have been granted great gifts-flight, physical power, virtual immortality…"
Realization of the importance of the ravens' blood washed over Melann. "You were going to make him into some sort of lycanthropic slave-a wereraven! You were going to turn my brother into a horrible monster." Melann stood, clenching her hands into fists. Her body was tense with anger.
"Something like that," the Ravenwitch replied casually, "though I wouldn't choose to use quite those words. One thing is certain: Your brother would have stood a much better chance of surviving as my servant than he will otherwise, once Chare'en is loosed on the Thunder Peaks and into the Dalelands. Mere humans will fall before his might quickly and easily." "I won't let that happen," Vheod said quietly, but firmly.
"Did you not hear me, cambion? You will cause it. That is why you are here." The Ravenwitch offered a single open hand held flatly toward him as if to suggest that she offered a simple truth.
"No!" Vheod spat. "In fact, the truth is that you are the one, are you not? I was warned about your evil. You plan to free the balor Chare'en, don't you? You probably worship him, don't you? Foolish mortal woman-you'll bring about your own demise."
"No," the Ravenwitch replied. Her voice was still calm and flat.
Melann noted that other than her initial shock at their sudden arrival, the Ravenwitch had remained decidedly unemotional. Somehow that caused Melann to hate and fear her more.
"I don't worship demons," the Ravenwitch continued- "I don't look forward to a future where gnoll armies with fiendish commanders lay waste to the countryside." Only on speaking of gnoll armies did her voice falter, or betray any emotion at all. "I know the future though, and I don't fight against the inevitable. I am many things, perhaps, but I am not a fool.
"There is one, however, who does worship Chare'en, serving him and putting events in motion to help free the balor, and of course there are the gnolls." Her disdain for the gnolls became even more clear with the look of fire that flashed in her eyes when she said the word.
"What about the gnolls?" Vheod asked her. The Ravenwitch moved back to where she'd stood before, between Melann and Vheod. Melann helped Whitlock to his feet and over toward Vheod. She hoped they could just flee, once she got the three of them together. She didn't care about exacting revenge on the Ravenwitch-she'd never been interested in such pettiness. She was, however, tired of hearing the witch's half-truths and strange words. She just wanted to get away from the Ravenwitch and away from the giant tree. She needed time to think. Again Vheod had terrified her. The darkness in his soul was strong-stronger than she'd originally assumed.