kill a lone halfling.
Even though the cerebrilith was presumably still blind from the spell he'd cast on it, Pavel had no idea if he was up to the challenge, but knew he had no choice but to try. He began a prayer, reciting the words under his breath so his adversary wouldn't hear.
Then the cerebrilith vanished. Perhaps it had become invisible, but Pavel knew there was another possibility: Some demons could translate themselves instantly from one location to the next. He whirled, and standing more or less erect for the first time, shovel-sized hands poised to rake, jaws gaping, the hulking tanar'ri was right beside him. Though Pavel had blinded it, its clairvoyance enabled it to orient on him.
But maybe the blindness slowed it down. It hesitated before lashing out with its talons, and that gave Pavel time to skip back out of range, still maintaining the precise cadence and enunciation his incantation required.
Red-gold light washed through the room. A luminous mace appeared in the air, then bashed the cerebrilith as if a ghost were swinging it.
Pavel smiled. With luck, the conjured weapon would confuse and hold the demon back while he assailed it with more magic.
But the harassment didn't hinder the cerebrilith as much as he'd hoped. The tanar'ri roared, and a harsh white light blazed from its body. The radiance seared Pavel like a brand, and the agonizing heat didn't end with the flare. The priest looked down. His clothing was on fire.
He dropped and rolled. That extinguished the fire, but by the time he finished, the demon was stooping over him. The hovering mace bashed chips from the bony spikes along its spine, but it ignored the punishment to reach for the human laying supine on the floor.
Pavel swung the enchanted mace of steel and oak he carried in his hand. Sprawled as he was, he had no hope, of striking with much force or accuracy, but somehow managed to knock the cerebrilith's big, gnarled hand away. He scrambled backward, trying to get clear.
He wasn't quick enough. The tanar'ri caught him by the leg and lifted his foot toward its stained, jagged fangs.
'Freeze!' Pavel cried.
That too was a spell, and it snagged the creature's will for a second. He kicked free of the demon's grip.
Not unscathed, however. The creature's talons had pierced his boot and the muscle beneath, and in the course of flailing loose, he tore and enlarged the wounds. When he floundered to his feet, his leg nearly buckled. It would give way if he didn't favor it.
Indeed, he hurt all over, and reckoned he was hurt pretty badly. Fortunately, he could heal himself, but he couldn't focus on that and fend off a demon at the same time. He had to neutralize the tanar'ri first, and quickly, before shock and blood loss eroded a critical measure of his strength and agility.
Commencing another spell, he backed away from the cerebrilith. The demon turned its head, tracking the movement, then vanished from beneath the pounding, luminous mace. The conjured weapon streaked forward, pursuing its target. The line in which it flew pointed to the spot where the creature had reappeared, otherwise Pavel would never have sensed it on his right flank in time to recoil to the left.
Even so, a swipe of its claws ripped his brigandine and scored the skin beneath. It hurt, but he refused to let pain ruin his spell. He kept the rhythm, and lashed his unarmed hand through the proper figure.
Power burned in his palm, and when the cerebrilith lunged after him, he thrust out his hand and discharged it. A beam of brilliant light leaped forth and caught the demon square in the muzzle, shattering a number of its fangs. The tanar'ri stumbled, and the flying mace smashed through a section of the bony extrusions on its spine and started pulping the whorled tissue beneath. The demon fell to one knee. It lifted an arm, evidently to ward off the glowing weapon, but then the limb flopped back to the floor as if it had run out of strength.
Pavel hobbled forward to strike at the cerebrilith. It roared, startling him. Not so weak after all, it grabbed the wrist of his weapon arm and yanked him close. Its jaws spread wide, and alas, Lathander's light hadn't broken all its teeth-it still had all the dentition required to bite him to pieces.
Will knew it would only take Vercevoran a moment or two to dash around the outside of the keep. He spent a precious instant standing still, listening, until he knew from which direction the dragon was coming. Then he sprinted in the other, keeping ahead of his pursuer.
When he'd circled the tower, he dashed on toward the line of outbuildings at the foot of the curtain wall. Zhents, roused by the commotion, were scurrying from the barracks. Some spotted him, and maneuvered to intercept him. Without breaking stride, he spun his warsling. The skiprock cracked into one soldier's head, then rebounded to strike the comrade next to him. The first human fell, and the second reeled.
Then the remaining Zhents balked and peered upward, eyes wide. Will didn't need to look back to know they'd just caught sight of Vercevoran. The dragon was still on his track, and he was flying.
Something-hunter's instinct, maybe-warned Will the wyrm was about to unleash that devastating roar. He sprang, somersaulted, trying to dodge. It must have worked. The deafening bellow jolted him, but did no crippling harm. Whereas three Zhents flailed and dropped, blood streaming from every opening in their heads.
Vercevoran attacked again just a heartbeat later. Glowing white strands of some unearthly stuff writhed from the empty air around Will's body to snatch for him like tentacles. He dived and flipped to his feet beyond their reach.
Above him, something occluded the light of the moon and stars. He ran on, plunging through a doorway of an outbuilding. Vercevoran, thwarted in his attempt to swoop down on the half ling like an owl catching a mouse in its talons, landed on the ground instead, then lunged, jaws gaping. Will slammed the door. The whole wall banged and shook as the drake rammed into it.
Will cast about. The wall would only keep out a wyrm for a few seconds. His survival depended on finding another way out of that room.
There! A small, round opening intended for ventilation, high in the right-hand wall, it wouldn't accommodate a human, but a halfling might manage. Will sprang onto the desk, leaped again, and caught hold of the laths crisscrossing the hole. The wood was soft and easy to bash away. He squirmed through an instant before Vercevoran smashed down the wall behind him.
He dashed out of the narrow space between one outbuilding and the next and on through another door.
Vercevoran had caught up with him, so he couldn't run around in the open anymore. His only chance was to take cover in enclosed spaces, slipping from one to the next before the dragon crashed in on him.
Time after time, a collapsing wall or roof nearly battered him and buried him in rubble. Again and again, he only escaped a storeroom, carpenter's workshop, or kitchen in the last second before the drake burst in. Meanwhile, he was grimly aware he was running short of outbuildings.
He scrambled out a window. To his left, Vercevoran roared. The noise had a different timbre than before. Something about it made Will pause in his frantic scuttling and try to determine what was going on.
His head and forelegs inside, wings, hindquarters, and lashing tail outside, Vercevoran had jammed in the doorway of the armory his quarry had vacated mere moments before. In a matter of seconds, the wall surrounding the opening would crumble and liberate the wyrm. But for the moment he was stuck.
Will stared at the creature's flank, — at the vulnerable point so temptingly exposed, the thin spot in the scaly hide with the pulsing heart behind. If he advanced quickly but silently, he had a fair chance of landing a mortal blow.
He glided forward, then, recalling what Pavel had said, he hesitated. The Zhents had enslaved Vercevoran. He wasn't responsible for his actions.
He spat. To the Abyss with Pavel's squeamishness. Will needed to kill the dragon or Vercevoran would kill him, simple as that. He skulked onward.
Too late. The wall shattered, and Vercevoran rounded on him.
Will spun around to flee, but his legs wouldn't run. They tangled, and as he fell, he realized a psychic assault had paralyzed him.
A great weight pressed him down into the mud. Vercevoran had his forefoot on him, and for a moment it seemed the reptile simply intended to crush him. Then, however, the dragon gripped him in his talons and lifted him toward his jaws.
Pavel planted both feet on the cerebrilith's breast, exerting every bit of his dwindling strength, and braced his legs to keep the tanar'ri from dragging him to its fangs.
The cerebrilith raked at his head with its other hand. He jerked up his free arm, and the creature's claws tore
