it from wrist to elbow. It was better than if they'd ripped his face away.
Still, it was only a matter of time before the demon, its blindness and the trauma of its various wounds notwithstanding, landed a crippling or lethal attack. With his weapon hand locked in his opponent's grasp, Pavel needed another way to strike at it, and the knife in his belt wouldn't serve. Since it bore no enchantments, it wouldn't pierce a tanar'ri's flesh.
He started gasping out an incantation, yanked the sun amulet from around his neck, and swept it through the initial pass. The cerebrilith snatched to stop him. Somehow Pavel managed both to avoid its groping talons and complete the figure properly as well. Golden light pulsed from the pendant.
He had to drop the amulet to receive the second luminous mace materializing inside his bloody fingers. He used it to beat at the demon's head, while the flying weapon he'd conjured previously continued to hammer its spine.
The demon collapsed and sprawled motionless, acrid fluids leaking from its wounds. Pavel didn't know which weapon had struck the, mortal blow, nor did he care. He pried his wrist from the tanar'ri's death grip.
The effort made his head swim. He was in danger of passing out. He wheezed a prayer that drew Lathander's warm, healing radiance into his body. He felt steadier, though still weary, weak, and sore. It would have to do, because he lacked the time for anything more. Will needed him.
Pavel scrutinized the glyphs on the floor. When he thought he understood them, how they interconnected and how to disassociate them, he croaked out the incantation and lashed his amulet through the proper pass.
To no effect. He could feel that nothing changed.
Perhaps that was because he didn't fully understand the bindings, but he wasn't going to comprehend them any better, not without hours of study. He simply had to try again with his final counterspell.
He drew a deep breath and declaimed the incantation with all the precision and force of will he could muster. A sweet and intricate harmonic, like a note sustained by a choir, sang through the hall. The painted words and symbols burst into flame, and the lights in the orbs atop the tripods guttered out.
Vercevoran stumbled. Helpless in the drake's grip, Will certainly hadn't done anything to cause it. Could it be that Pavel had finally set the reptile free?
Evidently so. Will had no extraordinary facility for reading what passed for a dragon's facial expressions, but still, as Vercevoran hissed and shook his head, he could see something-intelligence, maybe, or self-awareness- returning. It showed in the set of the wyrm's jaw, the flare of his nostrils, and the narrowing of his lambent eyes.
Then those eyes blazed. Vercevoran lashed his wings, a snap like a thousand whips cracking at once, and gave a prodigious roar.
Wonderful, thought Will, he's got the Rage, and he's still going to eat me. Pavel, you jackass.
But Vercevoran didn't pop him into his mouth. Instead, the dragon wheeled toward the Zhents the halfling hadn't even noticed until just then. The chaos following on Will and Pavel's intrusion had caught them by surprise, but the officers had managed to rally the men-at-arms to sort the situation out. The reavers stood in formation, facing the wyrm, but thus far, not attacking. They were hoping they didn't need to, that Vercevoran was still under the cerebrilith's control.
The dragon dashed that hope by setting Will down, then launching himself at his erstwhile masters. He hadn't fallen into frenzy after all, but that didn't keep him from hating those who'd presumed to bind him.
Will stood back and watched the slaughter. It only took a minute or so. Then the wyrm leaped up and flew away into the night.
Pavel reckoned he and Will had found the archives Sammaster had visited Hulburg to consult, records not scribed on paper but graven in stone. Dimly lit by the shafts of golden sunlight spilling through the doorway and the cracks in the roof, the cavernous temple of Oghma, god of knowledge, had endless lines of words and pictographs chiseled from floor to lofty ceiling on the white marble walls.
Pavel tried to feel excited, but perhaps because his half-healed wounds still ached, simply couldn't manage it. It was going to take days, maybe tendays, to decipher all that lore and determine which parts pertained to the frenzy, if, in fact, any of it did. It was time the search could ill afford.
'What's wrong?' asked Will.
Evidently Pavel had let his demoralizing reflections show in his expression.
'Nothing,' said the priest, trying to shake off defeatism. 'Let's each take a wall. You'll find a lot you can't read, but just look for anything pertaining to dragons.'
'What is it exactly you wish to learn?' asked a cold bass voice.
Startled, the hunters jerked around to behold a tall, thin figure clad in shades of jade and olive. The slanted eyes in the hairless, ascetic face were likewise a blank and luminous green. Vercevoran had assumed an approximation of human form to fit inside the temple.
'Brandobaris's dirk!' Will swore. 'Don't sneak up on a fellow like that!'
'What is it you seek?' Vercevoran persisted.
'Information on the Rage,' said Pavel. 'We're trying to determine how to stop it.'
'Then you're fools,' the dragon said. 'Nothing can stop it. Yet I owe you a debt for freeing me, so if you wish, I'll help you.'
The transformed reptile stalked through the temple, scarcely breaking stride to gaze at the various sections of wall. Pavel wondered if Vercevoran could actually be perusing all that information so quickly.
Glories of the sunrise, what manner of intellect could accomplish a feat like that?
Vercevoran pointed to a string of symbols and said, 'Here. This is all there is, and it's merely the usual warning: 'When the King-Killer shines, then burns the Rage.''
'It's not 'usual' to us,' said Will. 'What's the King-Killer?'
Vercevoran sneered but answered, 'You don't even know that? It's a red star that appears in the sky every few centuries.'
Will shook his head and said, 'It's not there now.'
'We already knew,' Pavel said, 'that Sammaster altered the elves' magic to suit his own purposes. They evidently tied this King-Killer to the enchantment, but he severed the link.'
'It's a pity the undead whoreson was too impatient to wait for the star to return,' the halfling said 'This whole dung storm could have broken a century hence, when it would be somebody else's problem. Anyway, I guess the point is, what we just learned here is worthless.'
For a moment, Pavel thought so too. Then he realized the possibilities.
'No,' he said, smiling, 'it gives us a cross-reference.'
'A which?'
'A signpost, ignoramus. Something to guide us as we sift through the ancient lore. Now that we know the elf wizards drew power from the stars, we look for allusions to the King-Killer, and the heavens in general. With luck, it could save us tendays, even months of seeking.'
Pavel turned to Vercevoran and said, 'As could you. You've just demonstrated how valuable you could be. Let me explain exactly what's going-'
'Don't bother,' the dragon said. 'I don't care for the society of humans, my debt is paid, and I feel frenzy eating at my mind. I go to the Plane of Air, to wait out the Rage as my kind has always done.'
The wyrm vanished, leaving only a fleeting ripple on the dusty air.
