His own ears ringing, Vambran took advantage of the few moments he knew the creature would be stunned to grab Horial and drag him away, part of the way down the narrow path leading into the secret hollow among the crates. He dropped to one knee beside his sergeant, not even bothering to see if the man was still alive, and placed his hand upon Horial's chest. He murmured a quick prayer of healing, just a simple orison that he hoped would stop the blood loss and stabilize his companion. Then he rose again, stepped back over his friend's fallen form, and readied himself to face the monstrosity once more.
"Let's see how you do without my sergeant to protect you," he spat at the creature.
As if understanding it was time to engage its foe again, the beast lumbered forward, ready to battle. Vambran sidestepped warily a few times, watching to see if the creature had any new tricks, but it seemed intent solely on closing in and trying to grab at the lieutenant. When Vambran was certain he understood its tactics well enough, he began to press the attack, slashing and carving his way inside the creature's reach, laying some particularly harsh wounds across its writhing, unnatural body. After five such blows, the mercenary was forced to step back, out of breath.
The leech-thing came on just as strong as ever, and Vambran groaned. When the beast reached for him again, he tried to parry the blow away, but his strength was failing him, and he didn't quite get the blade completely between himself and his opponent. A meaty fist sneaked through and pounded Vambran across the side of the head. The strike snapped his head sideways and he could feel the dozen or so tiny bites on his skin. He knew that the wounds themselves weren't too bad, but the bleeding would slowly drain him of his energy and could quite possibly blind him.
The lieutenant staggered backward, keeping his sword up as protection, but the creature lunged in again, and Vambran was too tired to fight it off. The blows knocked him to the floor, his sword skittering off to the side, out of reach. He shuddered and watched as the creature loomed over him, reaching down with both huge arms. The leeches wriggled and writhed, straining to latch on to Vambran, to suck at his blood. He was going to die there, feeding the horror. He groaned and tried once more to move clear.
"Move it!" a feminine voice called suddenly from above. "Get out of the way!"
Blinking in confusion and unable to see much of anything past the creature, Vambran didn't react immediately, but the beast did. It stood up, ignoring its potential meal, and staggered back half a step, all of its attention on whoever was overhead. Vambran took advantage of the chance to drag himself clear.
The beast jerked and tried to move farther away, but the wounds Vambran and the others had dealt to it hindered it sufficiently that it was not fast enough. As it staggered across the floor, a cascade of white spilled down over it, like fine white sand spilling free of a broken hourglass. Vambran looked up and saw a flash of red cloth, along with a barrel being tipped over onto its side, more of the white stuff tumbling out in an ever more rapid flow.
Salt, Vambran realized. And it was burning the creature. The beast shivered and flailed madly about, trying to shake free of the powdery substance, but its slimy exterior simply let the salt cling to it, and everywhere the stuff touched the monster, there was a sizzling sound. The creature jerked and spun, trying to bat away the salt as it continued to cascade down, and it was on the floor, jerking, spasming, burning. As the last of the salt poured out of the barrel, Vambran's red-clad savior let the container slip over the side and tumble down to land atop the monster, shattering.
The beast lay still. Vambran heaved a great sigh of relief and sagged to the floor, gasping in exhaustion. He tried to wipe the sweat and blood from his face, but his arms felt like lead.
"Please," he called out, "I need help. My sergeants might be dying."
There was no response from above.
Vambran couldn't walk, so he forced himself to crawl across the floor toward Adyan. It was a monumental struggle. Finally the lieutenant reached his companion and, with the last vestiges of his strength, he slipped his hand atop the other man's chest. Vambran sank his head down on his arms and closed his eyes. Then, in barely a whisper, he murmured a healing prayer, not even knowing if it was already too late. As the last words passed his lips, he felt the magic flow from him and to the sergeant, then he let blackness wash over him and settled into unconsciousness.
"Uncle Kovrim!" Emriana called from the shadows. She could see the priest walking furtively toward the warehouse her brother and his two companions had entered nearly an hour before. The priest was accompanied by five other figures, one of whom was a stout dwarf, and by the light of the lanterns they carried as they approached, the girl quickly recognized the emblem of the Sapphire Crescent on their tabards.
"I'm over here," she said, making herself visible.
Kovrim and his retinue quickened their steps and closed the distance with her. When he was near enough, Emriana ran to her uncle and hugged him tightly.
"They haven't come out, yet," she told the priest, pointing to the window the three mercenaries had used to get inside. "I heard fighting, and now nothing. Something terrible has happened, I just know it!"
Kovrim gave his niece a calming pat on her head.
"It's all right. We're here, now. You did the right thing, summoning me." He looked to the five mercenaries and jerked his head. "Get in there and see what's what. And be careful."
The dwarf, a sergeant in the company named Grolo Firefist, gave a quick nod.
"Yes, sir," he said in a deep, resonating voice. He turned to the other four and began to give orders. "All right, you heard the man. Let's get in there. No, not the window; I'm not climbing through that. Find the front entrance and let's get the doors open. Move it!"
As the soldiers leaped to obey, Kovrim stepped back and eyed Emriana up and down, his lips pursed in a frown. She blushed slightly in the semidarkness, feeling very foolish at the moment. She was dressed in her dark clothing, a snug black shirt and a pair of breeches. She also had a very fine crossbow that was diminutive in size but could be slung easily onto her back by a long leather strap. Kovrim had actually given her that when she was a few years younger, a delicate weapon that she could cock and fire as a youth.
"I knew he would do something like this," the girl told her uncle, trying to divert his attention away from her.
"And so you did exactly the same thing?" he asked, but she could hear no real recrimination in his voice.
Emriana simply shrugged and turned back to the soldiers making their way around the building. She watched the soldiers looking for an easier way inside, and she and Kovrim followed them, the priest with his arm around her shoulders. It didn't take long for the mercenaries to break inside the warehouse and begin to check for threats. Kovrim and Emriana waited outside.
Finally, Grolo returned to the entrance and called, "It's all clear."
The girl darted forward the moment she heard the dwarf's first words.
"Is he all right?" she asked, not stopping to wait for an answer as she scampered inside.
She never saw the sergeant's nod.
Emriana found Vambran lying face down, being carefully examined by one of the other members of the company. She dropped down next to her brother, looking for some reassuring sign from the man tending to him.
"He'll live," the soldier said, "though he needs treatment from the priest. Same for the other two," he added. "Though how they lived, I don't know. They're each hanging by a thread."