The half-elf cursed himself for a fool as he broke rank and charged the crone, hoping to reach her before the portal fully opened. "Hurry," he shouted to his companions, "she summons a demon!"
Jagged stalagmites and sloping stone slowed down Taen's hasty advance. Several times, he nearly lost his balance as he stumbled across the cavern floor. He was within striking distance of the renegade hathran when the mass of roiling darkness snapped open, like the lidless eye of a crazed giant awakened suddenly from a nightmare. A blast of pure hellfire spewed forth from the open portal, nearly knocking Taen off his feet. He struggled to keep his balance as a wicked claw as long as a scythe tore through the air to strike the ground where he would have fallen.
A second blast of hellfire shook the cavern before the portal disappeared with a sudden hiss of air, like the great rushing sound of a dragon inhaling before it unleashes its breath. Taen blanched as he saw the demonic being fully revealed by the light of the cavern's flickering torches.
The creature stood nearly eight feet tall, its grotesque body resembling an amalgam of bird and demon. Thick-feathered wings, extending out into the cavern from its broad back, beat listlessly as the demon cast around the room with its twisted eaglelike head. Twin circles of fire burned from behind the beast's large eyes. As Taen and the others drew nearer, it gestured once with a clawed hand. The air rippled for a moment as a wicked sword, complete with twin serrated edges, appeared in one of its hands.
Borovazk struck first, leaping forward with axe and warhammer in hand. Seemingly surprised by the ranger's speed, the demon lashed out awkwardly with its free claw. The Rashemi twisted to his left, avoiding the razor-sharp attack and spun to bring his broad war-hammer crashing down upon the summoned demon's leg-and nearly fell to the ground when, instead of shattering the beast's bones beneath its weight, the weapon rebounded harmlessly off of the creature. The ranger cursed quickly before reversing his spin and slicing hard with the wicked edge of his gleaming axe. This time, the weapon bit deep into the demon's torso, eliciting a horrifying screech that nearly caused Taen's ears to bleed.
Unwilling to give up their temporary advantage, Roberc and the half-elf approached the demon's flank. Swiftly the halfling sliced several cuts into the creature's putrid torso then cursed as the wounds slowly closed.
"Its gods-blasted flesh resists my attacks, Taen," Roberc shouted. "We're going to have to hack this vrock back to the blasted pits where it was spawned."
Though Taen heard his friend's complaint, he could spare little energy to respond. Already the Song had grown to a near-deafening crescendo within him. For a moment, fear mixed with the calm his inner music brought him. Ever since he had entered Rashemen, he'd experienced an ever-deepening awareness of the Song. Something within this land called to him, coaxed and brought forth a part of the half-elf that he had tried to run from these many years. What if he lost control-failed as he did in the practice ground and beneath the stars when his actions had killed the only woman he had ever loved or who had loved him in return?
For just a moment, the Song softened, falling away, and he heard Talaedra's voice call out his name. Taen gazed out at his companions, struggling mightily against the summoned vrock, and he knew that he could not-would not-fail them. With an ancient bladesinger battle cry on his lips, he threw himself into battle. The Song surged within him, and he felt the power flowing through him. When the vrock's black-runed sword cut through the air, seeking his flesh, Taen brought his father's blade up to meet it. As the two swords met, Taen rolled forward, anticipating the demon's other claw that raked the space he had just occupied.
He would have lunged forward to strike at the vrock's now-unprotected flank, but a new sound caught his attention. Guarded by her demon, the renegade hathran was about to unleash another spell. The gathering arcane power flared against Taen's own senses even as the witch's chanted words clashed bitterly with his Song. The half-elf stepped out of his opponent's reach and studied the hathran for several heartbeats. The spell was familiar to him, and without hesitation, he summoned his own power and tried to counter her magic.
The crone finished her chant with a triumphant shriek and opened her palm, as if casting something forth. Fueled by the Song, Taen's arcane strength reached out to surround the harnessed eldritch energy. Black bolts of force flew from the witch's hands then sputtered into nothingness, absorbed by the half-elf's counterspell. The old woman's surprised curse did little to bolster Taen's optimism, for it had taken nearly all of his power to quench her spell. Whatever she might be, the hathran possessed a power far beyond anything that Taen had yet seen.
An icy feeling began to build at the base of his spine as he leaped forward, hoping to bring the black-robed crone down.
Chapter 28
The Year of Wild Magic
(1372 DR)
Marissa watched the telthor die.
Even as Cavan's powerful jaws locked on to the creature's neck and bit down, the druid found herself grieving. The telthor was evil or at least twisted by the one called Yulda beyond recognition. Still, as its body stopped moving and its luminous flesh began to fade before her eyes, Marissa grieved. Here was a part of Rashemen that would never exist again, and she had a hand in its passing.
There was little time to do anything but mouth a quick prayer to her god as the battle still raged in other parts of the cavern. Quickly she checked on Cavan, whose blood-matted fur and myriad open wounds made it difficult for the war-dog to walk; the loyal hound's front left leg hung at an awkward angle. Marissa reached out and opened her heart to Rillifane, asking his blessing upon the valiant animal. Within moments, divine energy poured out of her hand, repairing torn muscle and shattered bones. Cavan offered her hand a grateful lick before he bolted toward the rear of the cavern, returning to battle once more.
The druid was about to follow when Borovazk's cry of pain caught her attention. The ranger stood doubled while the demonic being advanced upon him. Looking carefully, she could make out tiny needle-sharp spores protruding from the Rashemi's flesh. Marissa saw Roberc slash valiantly at the demon, trying to draw its attention, but to no avail. Within a few heartbeats, the demon's wicked claws would shred Borovazk.
Gripping the Staff of the Red Tree, she called forth the power of the earth, shaping it with careful prayers to her god. Immediately the cavern floor around the Rashemi began to shift and buckle. Stalagmites grew in size, joining together to form a gray wall of stone that stretched from floor to ceiling. Protected from certain death, Borovazk reached toward his belt and pulled out a flask of green liquid. Marissa watched as the ranger pulled off the cork with his teeth and downed the potion. Relief flooded through her as the needle spores fell from his skin. She almost smiled as he picked up his axe from where it had fallen, ran around the wall, and engaged the demon once more.
As battered and bloodied as her friends looked, the summoned demon looked even worse. The matted feathers of its wings were rent with several holes, and even from her vantage point, Marissa could see gaping wounds that disgorged black blood and slime. The demon, however powerful, was the least of their problems, Marissa knew. Yulda, the renegade hathran, posed the truest threat. Anger washed over her, made more intense by the voice of the Staff of the Red Tree, whose agitated buzzing reached new heights. Ever since she had carried the staff, Marissa felt as if it had grown to be a part of her. Even now she wasn't sure where her own anger and loathing ended and the Staff of the Red Tree's powerful emotions began.