Whitlock watched for a moment as the gnolls attempted to turn and flee from the animated statue only to run into their frenzied comrades behind them. The statue mercilessly, indiscriminately, slashed and stabbed at their backs. Already Vheod and Melann had disappeared into the dark corridor. Whitlock followed.
Vheod's only regret was that his spellcasting had caused his invisibility to falter. Other than that, everything had gone better than he could have dreamed. Now they'd just have to get deep enough into the caves so that when the gnolls retreated from the guardian, the stone statue would be too far away to turn on them. Of course, they would almost certainly need to return this way when they left, but Vheod hoped the guardian statue had been prepared only to keep out intruders and might not notice someone trying to leave.
Vheod's vision allowed him to see well enough to round the corner to the left. He stopped and waited for the others, noting that the turn to the right led only to a dead end-it was really more an alcove-in which the statue had waited. The magical cloud of greenish particles was gone.
At Vheod's feet lay a blood-soaked human body. He couldn't make out many details, even with his tanar'ri darkvision, but the man had apparently died within the last hour or so. Melann hurriedly, quietly walked down the passage, feeling along the right side wall. Her face showed terror mixed with relief. "This way," Vheod whispered.
Her head turned suddenly toward the sound of his voice. She paused wordlessly, then came toward him with small, careful steps. Obviously, she couldn't see at all. He reached toward her and grasped her arm, pulling her close to him.
"What now?" she whispered in his ear. Her presence gladdened him. At least his plan had worked well enough to get her past the statue. Glancing around the corner, he was equally glad to see Whitlock making his way along the left-hand wall. The statue engaged the gnolls behind him. It worked.
Vheod called out softly to Whitlock and brought the three of them together in the darkness. "What's that smell?" Melann asked. "There's a body on the floor. Someone was killed here very recently."
"Someone?" Whitlock asked in a forced whisper. "Not a gnoll?"
"No, not a gnoll. I don't know who it is," Vheod replied.
Both Melann and Whitlock paused in silence, as if considering this. Melann stared straight ahead, knowing that she could see nothing. Whitlock still glanced from side to side, as if some action on his part might suddenly allow him to see. The underground passage was cool. A slight breeze originated somewhere deeper in.
"We need light," Whitlock stated.
"Whitlock's right, Vheod," Melann said. "We can't fumble through the darkness like this. It's too difficult. It's too dangerous."
Vheod produced one of the torches he had managed to recover from the dead horses' packs. Even in the darkness, he was able to produce enough of a spark with his flint and steel to light some tinder, then the torch. Soon, flickering light illuminated the well-crafted passageway. All three of them could see where the statue had once stood, the corridor ahead of them, and the corpse at their feet.
Whitlock knelt next to the body, but Melann interrupted him, using her divine power to heal his injured arm. The process took a few minutes, during which Vheod anxiously watched the passage around the corner where the gnolls fought against the guardian. The bestial warriors struggled against the stone statue to no avail. He was surprised to see that they didn't turn from the overwhelming might of their foe. Instead the humanoids threw themselves at it. They must really want to get inside-was it really only to get at them? Somehow Vheod doubted it. This underground structure held more secrets, that seemed evident.
The body at their feet held no recognizable features for any of them. All three of them, in fact, were certain they'd never seen the individual before. He wore a leather jerkin and carried equipment and supplies befitting someone who knew he was going underground-torches, rope, pitons, and more. Vheod also noted that the dead body was well armed with a short sword and a number of daggers.
Vheod took the sword and daggers, shrugging his shoulders as he stood back up and looked at his companions. "We may need these." Whitlock replied with a grim nod. Melann said nothing.
"We should get moving," Whitlock said. He took the torch from Vheod.
Whitlock led the three of them down the corridor as Vheod tucked the weapons in his belt. The hauntingly cool air currents chilled their summer-accustomed flesh. The smooth angular walls and floor were coated with a thick layer of dust, though in places the flickering torchlight indicated disturbances suggesting that others had passed through there before.
"That man was not killed by the stone guardian…" Melann said to no one in particular.
"I don't think the guardian was activated until we got here," Vheod replied.
"… I think he was a sacrifice," Melann continued. She turned to Vheod with an intense glare in her eye. "His throat had been cut. I don't think he was killed in a fight."
"The gnolls?" Vheod asked.
Melann raised her eyebrows and shoulders in unison, shaking her head slightly. She turned away.
"I think it must have been the gnolls." Whitlock said from ahead of them. "Take a look at this."
Whitlock moved to one side to allow the other two to see beyond him. The passage gave way to a small chamber with smooth stone walls and powerful arches supporting the ceiling. In the center of the room, hundreds of small green stones glittered in the torchlight. They lay in a carefully constructed pile.
"Those are the same stones the gnolls were gathering," Melann said.
"Yes," Whitlock replied. "They must have been bringing them here as an offering or something."
Vheod entered the room and approached the stones. He could see that they'd not just been piled on the floor, but had been placed in a deliberate pattern. When he stood next to the pile, directly over the pattern, he could see what was intended. It formed a crude depiction of a leering, fiendish face.
Instinctively, he brought his left arm up to look at the back of his hand. There the Taint emblazoned on his flesh, mockingly took the same shape as the pattern on the floor. The leering face was a shape that the Taint had taken numerous times before. He never thought about it before, but it was the shape the tattoo took most of the time. The stones had been positioned here in the same manner. The same leering, mocking face. "Damn," Vheod said quietly.
Melann came to his side, looking down at the pattern of stones. She looked at the Taint, then into his eyes.
"I don't think you should be here," she told him. Her voice was soft.
"You're probably right," he said slowly. Sighing deeply, he continued, "I've been led here, Melann. Everything that's happened to me since I arrived in this world, or perhaps earlier than that-perhaps even my entire life-has led me here. It's as though I have no will of my own. Like what I want to do with my life doesn't matter. Everything I've done, every person I've ever met, has been part of a manipulation to bring me here. Even you and Whitlock, unknowingly, have been a part of it."
"But," Melann interrupted, "who has been doing this to you?"
"For all I know, I have." "I don't understand."
"Neither do I," Vheod said, shaking his head and stepping away from the stones, "but I do know that all my life I've borne this Taint and that sometimes it acts as though it's an intelligent force of its own. It leads me places. It set into motion the events that brought me here in the first place. The Taint led me to Arach and Gyrison. It led me to Orrag. It… it led me to you."