"What are they? What are they for?" Vheod asked sternly, still holding up the green stone that glistened, like the wet leaves around them.
The creature spoke again, and Vheod translated, "It says they must gather these lost stones to bring to their master."
"Who in the Nine Hells is their master?" Whitlock demanded.
Vheod gave Whitlock a questioning look, but they asked the gnoll and got a reply. "It says its master is The who has called to its people.' The who will soon awaken from a long sleep.' It doesn't have a name for this master."
"That's why there're so many gnolls in the area” Melann interjected. "Someone has been calling then here."
"Chare'en," Vheod stated flatly. "Is that what the creature said?" Melann asked. "No, not by name." Vheod shook his head. "Look," Whitlock said, "we can talk about that later. Are there more questions we need to ask this thing?"
Vheod proceeded to ask if there were more gnolls nearby, but the creature replied that most of the gnolls in this area were killed or chased off by something it didn't know or understand.
“That sounds bad," Whitlock said. He cleared his throat, not wanting Melann to hear the worry in his voice.
"Perhaps it means the crypt," Melann said suddenly "Perhaps something about the crypt of Chare'en frightened the gnolls away. If we head toward it, we won't have to worry about them while we're there."
"Perhaps," Whitlock said slowly, "but that doesn't mean we don't have to be worried about whatever it is they're afraid of." "True," she agreed.
Vheod sighed audibly. "I doubt there's anything more we can get from this creature." "Now what?" Melann asked.
Vheod turned to her, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what do we do with our… prisoner?" She looked to Whitlock, who still watched over the gnoll.
Whitlock raised his sword suddenly and brought the pommel down on its head. With a heavy thud, the creature's face fell to one side, and its eyes closed. Whitlock stood, brushed himself off, and walked to where the gnoll's weapon had dropped.
Picking up the club, he said "By the time the creature wakes up we'll be long gone and won't have to worry about any others it might talk to."
Melann sighed, turned and walked back to her horse. Whitlock heard her mutter a prayer to Chauntea under her breath, imploring her to guide them along the right path.
Whitlock lingered back to walk alongside Vheod for a moment. He recognized Vheod's surprise at their comparative leniency toward the gnoll, and knew what Vheod would have done.
He whispered tersely to Vheod., "We don't kill prisoners here, demon," then sped past him, going to gather his own horse.
Chapter Eleven
The travelers said little after their encounter and "conversation" with the gnoll. That night the ground was still wet from the morning rains, so they made their camp in the driest area they could find. The top of a large hill provided a small, flat area suitable for the three of them and the two horses. Their packs offered little to eat, but none of them really seemed to care. Clouds obscured the moon and stars more than the mountains ever could, conjuring an utterly black night. Their fire provided the only light, and they kept it very small so as not to draw too much attention.
As they prepared to sleep, Whitlock took Melann aside to speak with her. They stood in the edges of shadow and light, their faces masked in darkness but their eyes sparkling from the campfire.
"I've been thinking," he began in hushed tones, "about our new traveling companion."
Melann said nothing.
"What if this is all some sort of elaborate ruse? What if he's working with the gnolls for some purpose? His sudden appearance seemed awfully convenient, as did his supposed translation of what the gnoll was saying. How do we know if it really said those things?"
"I don't believe all that," Melann told him, “not for a moment. Why go to all that trouble?"
"To keep us away from the Crypt of Chare'en, for some reason," Whitlock whispered intently.
"Why not just kill us, if that was his intent? He's obviously powerful enough." She shook her head, then continued, "I just can't believe Vheod is somehow leading us into a trap or lying to us. Chauntea would never guide us into such a situation, and I still believe Chauntea is guiding us. She has to be-how else could everything that's happened be explained?" Whitlock just stared at her, working his jaw, his gaze dropping to the ground.
"I hope Vheod is wrong about the nature of Chare'en," Melann said, "but that doesn't mean he's going to betray us. What it comes down to is that I believe in Vheod's sincerity. I envy the strength he must have to struggle against his nature and win. I can hardly imagine what it must be like to be in conflict with your own soul, or at least a part of it! Everyone's tempted by evil-that's a part of what evil it is, after all-but his temptations must be unimaginable. You might think that makes it easy to expect the worst of Vheod, but I can only see it as a challenge worthy of the noblest of souls. Such a soul must belong to Vheod."
"I said, you've got a point."
"What?" Melann was shocked out of her speech by her brother. He must have spoken while she was rambling on. "Oh, sorry."
"I don't know why he wouldn't just try to kill us."? Whitlock whispered, "so well assume you're right for now, but I assure you, I'm going to be watching him. If he's plotting against us, I’ll know."
Melann sighed in exasperation, frustration, and fear.
In the morning, Vheod awoke from a night of fitful dreams. He'd dreamed of running about in a maze of underground tunnels. No matter where he went there seemed to be no way out. He felt as though the tunnels were leading him ever onward, toward some dark fate he could see coming but could not avoid.
The sun had already risen, but still cowered behind the mountains, giving the sky a light purple glow. The clouds still loomed above and gave no hint of parting that day. The air was moist but pleasantly fragrant in a way that might take him many years to truly become accustomed to. He was willing to try, he thought with a smile.
Melann was awake, not very far away, searching through some bushes for berries or other edible plants for breakfast. Vheod wasn't hungry, but thought to offer to provide some game for a meal. He stood, preparing himself for a short hunt. Melann turned at the sound of his rising.
"Good morning," she said, smiling. She held a small handful of red berries.
In the Abyss, plant life is twisted and evil-viper trees, clawgrass, and the blood-drinking thorns that Vheod remembered so well. Here it was pure. Vheod admired Melann's dedication to nurturing growing things. It seemed like a worthwhile purpose in life. "Good morning," he returned, a little awkwardly. Vheod gathered some of his things together. "Perhaps I can add to what you have gathered there. Surely there's some small animal or bird around here that-"
"No, I'll go." The voice came from behind Vheod. It was Whitlock. Vheod turned to see him already taking up a small crossbow he'd not seen the warrior use before. Whitlock scowled at Vheod and turned, walking out of the camp. Vheod watched him go but said nothing.
Melann walked over to Vheod, offering him some berries. "He…" Melann began to explain, but never finished. Vheod nodded sternly.
“I know he doesn't trust me. I cannot blame him for that."
Melann smiled, still holding up the berries. "We've had this conversation before," she said.
"Yes," Vheod said, taking a berry in his long fingers and popping it into his mouth.
Melann laid the berries on a cloth on the ground and searched through their packs, probably looking for any remaining bread or cheese. Vheod wished again that he'd thought to bring along his own supplies-not for himself, but to offer to Melann and Whitlock.