He screamed louder this time. The sound seemed to relax the eladrin. She heaved him to his feet and leaned him against a tarp-covered contraption.
'Very well, mortal,' said Malyanna. 'For the sake of our past alliance, despite how many times you've disappointed me, I'll let you be. If you open this damned contraption now.'
'Swear it,' he insisted, his voice a whisper.
She collapsed her forearm across his throat so that his breath and blood were cut off for a moment-just long enough for him to panic. Then she released him, smiling. She said, 'I vow as a priestess of the Citadel of the Outer Void, as a devotee of the Abolethic Sovereignty, that neither I nor any who serve me will harm you for a period of no less than one year, if you open the amulet right now.'
Behroun sagged. He pulled the amulet close and tried to work its secret catch. The pain and awkwardness from the two protruding fingers of his left hand got in the way. He failed once, then twice, to open it.
'Are you stalling?' purred the eladrin.
Behroun gave a strangled sob and tried again. The third time proved the charm. The halves of the locket popped open. The emerald-hued pact stone lay exposed.
Malyanna plucked it from Behroun's hand. She held the stone up to her eye for a moment, squinting at it with her inscrutable, lambent gaze.
Then she tossed it on the floor. The green jewel winked fitfully in the dim light.
Malyanna pointed a finger. A pale, cold ray emerged and transfixed the pact stone.
The emerald shattered. A flying fragment drew a red line on Malyanna's check, but she only laughed.
Even Behroun was able to see the breaking stone discharge a tiny spark, but dark and shaped like… a bat.
The mote fluttered above the ruined stone for an instant, then dived away from the room in a direction that didn't exist in Castle Darroch.
'After it, Tamur!' screeched the eladrin noble.
The great hound barked once and dashed down a lane of shadow Behroun hadn't noticed earlier. Malyanna said, 'Until next year, then,' and followed her pet into the shadow between dimensions.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Green Siren on the Sea of Fallen Stars
The gray slaad tried to bite off Seren's head.
She barked out her most potent ward. Even as the thing's teeth grazed her temples, radiance burst from her. The force of the concussive spell chipped the slaad's teeth and flipped it up and backward several feet. The creature tried to get its balance but fell on its back.
Before the slaad could rise, Seren snapped her fingers, bidding the called creature to return to whence it came.
Neither the slaad clambering to its feet before her nor any of its brethren so much as paused, let alone disappeared in a puff of released summoning magic. She scowled. The pack of hunters had exploited the gap left by her summoning ritual. She couldn't dismiss them because she hadn't called them.
All she could do was kill them or be killed.
Shouts and screams from other parts of the ship grazed her ears. Larger slaads than this gray were ravening, but-
The creature leaped at her once more, its rubbery face contorted with elemental hunger and fury. At least it was now leaking ichor.
She spoke the opening stanza of Sunless Winter. A blast of chill blue spread from her open mouth, crystallizing from the arcane syllables.
Ice rasped the slaad's hide like sandpaper. It shrieked, but fixed her with its pale gaze. Frost stung her flesh, froze her in place, and sucked the breath from her lungs. How…?
The damned beast had turned a portion of the spell back on her!
She started to utter another spell, knowing the creature was going to reach her before she finished.
Someone stepped between her and the charging slaad. Raidon!
The gray, intent on rending her from neck to navel, was oblivious. The half-elf leaned into the creature's charge and grabbed its arm. Using the creature's own momentum, he flipped the creature over his hip. The gray slaad cleared Seren by a foot. It crashed down behind her. The monk followed his quarry.
She turned and finished her spell, sending a concussive bolt of thunder through its body. It convulsed, paying no attention as Raidon leaned down, cradled the creature's head between his arms, and squeezed.
The gray's eyes bulged as its breath stopped. A few moments later, it lolled, dead or unconscious. Either way, it was out of the fight.
The chill of her redirected spell released its clutch. Seren rubbed her hands together and blew on them. Tiny pins stuck her extremities as hints of feeling returned.
Two slaads remained, a gray and a red. Thoster and a few of his crew had formed a defensive line on the forecastle. With axes, sabers, scimitars, and the captain's clicking sword, it seemed Green Siren might actually turn the tide.
The red slaad was on the forecastle stairs, face to face with the captain. Thoster bore several deep claw wounds down the left side of his face and chest. He grinned as if he was having the time of his life.
Raidon took the stairs on the forecastle three at a time. His last step was a leap that put his foot into the small of the red's back. The monster stumbled under the blow. Thoster advanced a half step and pushed his sword into the creature's chest. It croaked, a sound charged with supernatural terror.
The crew, Thoster, and even Raidon paused in the face of the fearful sound, giving the monster the space it required to bounce straight up. It caught the mainmast crossbeam high over its head.
Seren was close enough to hit it with another volley of thunder. The red, still croaking, managed to retain its grip on the crossbeam. It swung itself in a great arc away from the ship and dived. Before it hit the water, it winked out of existence. Seren saw the telltale gleam of an arcane translocation.
The last gray tried to flee like its larger cousin, but it was not quite so resilient to Seren's spells. She caged it in a field of flickering fire, one specifically designed to anchor creatures in space. The captain, the monk, and the rest of the crew made short work of it, and its life was spilled out in stinking streaks of green and red.
Silence stretched into the aftermath for several heartbeats.
A tumult of voices went up as the crew checked to see who had survived the onslaught. A few called for a victory party.
Captain Thoster roared, 'Secure the ship! What're you doing standing around jawing? Make sure there ain't more overgrown frogs hopping around down in the hold. Get this mess shipshape and see to the wounded. Then we celebrate. Tonight, triple rum rations!'
Men and women scattered to do Thoster's bidding, their fear and concern washed away by the captain's promise.
Seren wondered at the promise of rum, if it was so potent, perhaps she should avail herself of some too.
'And call the healer,' demanded the captain. He held his rent shirt close around his chest as if to hide the extent of the wounds down his torso.
A fellow crawled up from the hold with a pouch. From it he produced a vial. 'Restorative, sir,' he said. 'We're running low, I'm afraid. This is the last.' Thoster took it and glanced at Seren and Raidon. 'Each of us should take one swig. We should be at the top of our game before we begin the expedition.' The captain handed the vial to the monk.
Raidon nodded and took a small sip. The wizard wasn't certain she could detect any change in the man.
When the vial passed to her, she took a large mouthful. Like ice water on a blazing day, the fluid cooled her mouth and throat. Scrapes, pulls, and pains she hadn't even realized she bore faded.
Captain Thoster finished the last of the fizzing blue liquid. The most serious cut, the one running down his face from his left eye to under his jawbone, slowly faded, leaving behind only the faintest of white lines to mark
