As Yvka stroked Hinto’s hand, she looked around for Tresslar, but she didn’t see the artificer. She wondered what had happened to the irritable old man. Wherever he was, she hoped he was safe and not doing anything foolish. Yvka and the girl continued tending to Hinto, trying to restore him to a state of calm, while below them the multitude of crabs finished what remained of their grisly repast. Now all that remained was for them to wait and see if Diran and Ghaji succeeded. Yvka prayed that they would.
Diran held the arrowhead of the Silver Flame in his left hand while he threw daggers with his right. Ghouls shied away from the holy symbol, its power preventing them from getting too close. A single bite or scratch from one of the loathsome creatures was enough to cause paralysis, or worse, ghoul fever. Diran could heal either Ghaji or himself if they were struck, but they couldn’t afford to waste the time.
Ghaji wielded his new flaming axe to devastating effect, hacking off heads, arms, and legs, and setting ghouls afire in the process. In his left hand, Ghaji gripped his old axe, and though it was smaller and lacked the enchantment of his more recently acquired weapon, the half-orc warrior still caused quite a bit of damage with it.
Diran was rapidly using up his supply of daggers. He sent blades hurtling into ghoul eyes, throats, and hearts with lightning speed and deadly accuracy, but only the silver daggers struck with mystical effect, the ghouls’ mottled hides blackening and rotting away where they’d been wounded. Diran could summon forth the pure essence of the Silver Flame to repel the ghouls, but he feared if he did so, he might not be able to draw on that power again in time to use it against Erdis Cai.
Fortunately for the two companions, if not for the denizens of Grimwall, the ghouls attacked anything that moved and preferred easy prey. Since most of the black-clothed men and women put up no resistance as they attempted to flee, the ghouls fell upon them like ravening hounds on rabbits, raking flesh with black claws, and tearing off chunks of meat with razor-sharp teeth. He felt pity for the men and women who died at the savage claws of the ghouls. Few deserved such a hideous death as many of Erdis Cai’s followers now suffered.
Diran and Ghaji had thinned the number of ghouls considerably by the time they reached the opposite side of the amphitheater floor, and those men and women who hadn’t died or been injured by the ghouls’ attack had fled, a number of the cannibalistic undead racing after them. Ghaji split the skull of one last ghoul with his fire axe, and the creature burst into flames and collapsed in a heap of burning flesh. The two companions then sprinted up the amphitheater’s steps as they went in pursuit of Erdis Cai.
Makala didn’t want to leave the darkness-not because it was pleasant or comforting, but because she suspected that cold and lonely as it was, it was still preferable to what waited for her on the other side of consciousness.
She opened her eyes anyway.
Stalactites hung above her like spears of rock, poised to fall and impale her any moment. Flickering green light illuminated the stalactites, casting dancing shadows on the cavern ceiling. Makala was lying on a smooth hard surface, and when she tried to sit up, she found she couldn’t move. She could feel that her wrists and ankles had been bound by what felt like rope, but that was not what prevented her rising. She wanted to sit up, but her body refused to obey her commands.
You’re still under Erdis Cai’s spell, she told herself, at least partially.
Her mind began to clear then, and she realized where she was and what was happening. She was lying on the stone dais in the center of the blood pool, in the catacombs where the corpses of the ancient goblinoid warriors awaited the final three sacrifices that would restore them to life.
“I woke you, Makala, because I would not have you go to your death unaware. I would never dishonor your warrior’s spirit like that.”
Though she was unable to move the rest of her body, she was able to turn her head in the direction of Erdis Cai’s voice. In doing so, however, she saw the two others who shared the dais with her. One was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, and the other was a woman about ten years older. Both were bound like Makala, and both were dressed in black tunics fashioned from thin, light cloth. Makala couldn’t see how she was dressed, but from the feel of the cloth on her skin, she knew she wore a similar tunic. The other two candidates for sacrifice lay still, eyes closed, lost in Erdis Cai’s hypnotic trance, a trance from which neither of them would ever awaken.
Erdis Cai, Onkar, and Jarlain stood near the narrow walkway that stretched across the blood pool to the base of the dais. Jarlain smiled at Makala with smug satisfaction, her eyes gleaming in anticipation. Onkar glared at her, eyes burning with crimson fire as he cradled the stump where his right hand had once been. Makala didn’t know what had happened to Onkar, but whatever it had been, she hoped it had hurt.
Erdis Cai had no expression on his face. His features were as cold and impassive as those of a marble statue. The vampire lord cocked his head to the side as if listening to a voice only he could hear.
He looked up at the cavern roof, his gaze seeming to penetrate the stone and see far beyond it. He lowered his head and though his expression didn’t change, his voice held the merest hint of excitement as he said, “It’s time.”
He reached up to the crimson blood-drop symbol on his breastplate, grasped its edges, and plucked it free of the metal. As the Mark of Vol detached from the armor, a blade snicked out of the bottom and a handle jutted from the top. Erdis Cai wrapped his fingers around the handle and the Mark of Vol had become a sacrificial dagger.
The vampire lord stepped onto the walkway and began crossing the blood pool. The thick crimson liquid bubbled as if in excitement as he passed by.
Makala watched as her death drew closer.
“I don’t suppose Tresslar told you how to find the entrance to this secret passage,” Ghaji said as they ran through the outskirts of the goblin city.
“He gave me directions, but I don’t think we’ll need them,” Diran said.
Ghaji frowned. “Why not?”
In answer, Diran pointed to a section of cavern wall where Tresslar stood, dragonwand tucked beneath his tunic belt. The artificer had his hand pressed to the stone, and when he removed it, a semicircular door swung open.
“At least he didn’t have to kiss this one,” Ghaji said.
Tresslar must’ve heard them approaching, for her turned, a wary expression on his face, but when he saw who it was, he relaxed.
Diran and Ghaji came to a stop as they reached the open passageway.
“What are you doing here?” Ghaji asked.
“I don’t know,” Tresslar admitted. “I… I just had to come.”
Diran nodded to the open passageway. “This is it?”
“Yes. The catacombs lie at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Ghaji and I will go first,” Diran said. “Remember, whatever happens, Erdis Cai must not be allowed to gain control of those warriors.” With that, Diran headed down the winding stairs into darkness, Ghaji and Tresslar following close behind.
Waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs was a scene out of nightmare. The chamber was just as Tresslar had described it: recessed areas housing the upright corpses of the ancient hobgoblin warriors carved into the circular wall, blood pool in the center of the room, stone walkway and dais rising out of the crimson liquid. Four braziers of burning green fire illuminated the chamber with eerie light, and the blood in the pool-the sheer volume of it was staggering-roiled and swirled around the dais as if alive. Onkar and the raven-haired woman stood at the edge of the pool, gazing upon their master. Erdis Cai stood on the walkway next to the dais, holding in one hand a knife formed from the Mark of Vol, its blade dripping crimson. In his other hand, he held a young man upside down by the ankle. The youth’s throat had been slashed open and blood gushed from the wound, raining down to join the swirling mass of liquid in the pool. When the flow diminished to a trickle, Erdis Cai gave the youth’s body a shake, like a man determined to get the last few drops from a bottle of wine. Then with an ease that was horrible in its casualness, the vampire lord tossed the drained corpse to the other side of the chamber where it fell to the floor, joining the body of an older woman who’d already been bled.