Pain flared in Vheod's armored shoulder as metal clanged against metal next to Vheod's ear. The man had struck his shoulder but fortunately hadn't penetrated the pauldron. Vheod turned and brought his sword up to block the man's second blow. The two other men charged toward him, and he could hear more humans stirring all around, probably grabbing weapons to help. 'Go back where you came from!' the axe wielder shouted.
Vheod now knew he would have to kill all these insufferable, intolerant, misbegotten fools who-
No.
Something within him bade him to fight that urge. Perhaps because of the growing distance from the baleful Abyss, other forces were able to work within him, despite the fact that he still felt the evil in his nature as strongly as ever. Years of swordplay beckoned his arm to raise the weapon and cut down these men. Vheod forced his arm to remain still. He was suddenly forced to remember days earlier when Nethess had hired him to kill an enemy of hers. Living by his wits and fighting skills, Vheod took the job. To his surprise, Vheod discovered that his target was a human mortal-not a tanar'ri. Further surprising him, Vheod found he could not kill the man. At the last moment, the mortal portion of Vheod's soul had conjured forth his conscience, which stayed his hand. He couldn't kill a man as easily or thoughtlessly as he might slay a fiend.
This discovery may have surprised Vheod, but it only enraged Nethess. Now he found the same strange reluctance. He had to think of another way.
There was no time for a spell. If he fought these men, he would end up killing them. Vheod reached deep within himself, thrusting a mental hand deep into the dark well of fiendish power. He called to it, like a master calls an attack dog. Dark energy welled up inside him, climbing up his throat from his gut. Vheod choked back the bile that it brought with it and thrust the energy out from, him into the world. A magical darkness exuded from every pore, enveloping him and hiding him from sight. It spread impenetrable darkness as well. Though he'd called for such darkness before-it was a common enough trick among the tanar’ri-he never noticed that the darkness seemed oily and smelled of spoiled food. It had never occurred to him to pay attention before now.
Vheod tried to comfort himself in the fact that the darkness would eventually fade. He couldn't spare the time to think about it any further. The darkness kept the men from attacking him. Their shouts of surprise and terror only helped create further confusion. Vheod knew from experience that once oncoming foes were thrust into such darkness, they were likely to begin swinging their weapons wildly. He immediately dived to the ground and began to crawl a few feet away.
Still within the mass of inky blackness, Vheod muttered sorcerous words long-practiced, forming a short incantation. He couldn't see, but he could feel the power unleashed by his spell spreading over him. Starting at his fingers, a prickling sensation spread down his arms., across his chest, down his body and back up until it covered his head. He had used this particular incantation many times, so he didn't need to see to know what the spell accomplished. In fact, sight wouldn't allow him to see the effect at all-that was the point. This spell rendered him beyond the vision of those who sought him. He held his breath as the magical effect finished clothing him in invisibility. Then, and only then, he slipped out of the darkness altogether.
By that time, as he blinked away the sudden light of day outside his dark creation, he saw his assailants drawing away from the oily cloud, recoiling from the frightening and surprising magic.
'I told you he was some creature of evil!' the axeman shouted to anyone who might listen.
A young woman ran up with a strung hunting bow pulled taut with a nocked arrow. She pointed it at the roiling blackness, but one of the men who had run in from the forest grasped the bow before she could loose her missile.
'No!' he told her. 'It might fly through the darkness and strike someone on the other side. Everyone, wait. We’re got to find him. I've seen this spell before.'
'But Chorrad,' a man's voice called out, 'we're got to do something before he attacks us-or the children!' It was Tallin. He still grasped his wrist, but he'd regained his blade. A woman in a simple dress stood behind him with a bloody cloth that she tried to apply to his arm, but he pushed her back with a determined scowl.
Vheod determined then that his only recourse was to slip out of the village before a real fight started. A voice in his head nagged him, telling him: these simpletons deserve whatever harsh treatment you deal out. You tried to approach in peace, and they attacked you. Shaking his head, he tried to think about something else. How was he going to find Tilverton now?
Using soft, slow movements, he slipped out of the village's center and the crowd of people gathering there, despite the fact that all of them were looking for him. His spell proved more than capable of hiding him. He escaped with ease, but he wasn't glad. He knew no more than he had before, except that help was going to be harder to obtain than he'd thought. Perhaps this world had no place for him after all. At the edge of the settlement, Vheod found a small stable and corral with a handful of creatures he knew to be horses. He'd seen the animals before, though he'd seen creatures used as mounts in the Abyss that seemed as different from these noble beasts as one could possibly get.
Vheod approached the wooden fence around the beasts' corral. They snorted at his presence, probably catching a whiff of his odor since his magic made it impossible for them to see him. The horses grew more uneasy as he climbed over the fence. They stamped and nervously walked around in their confines. Vheod had no charms prepared that might tame one. Still, his determination to leave the village with speed gripped him. He approached one of the horses as quietly as he was able.
Reassuring himself that his actions were justified, he leaped atop the creature in a single, swift motion. He'd ridden a few different creatures in his life and knew a little about such beasts.
Unfortunately, it was only a very little. Worse, his smell-or perhaps his general otherworldly nature- spooked the animal. The horse reared up. He'd not yet completely steadied himself on the horse's back to begin with, so Vheod's fingers clutched at the creature's mane and neck. It reared again and jumped forward. Vheod slipped and landed on the side opposite the one from which he'd approached the horse. 'There he is! By the horses!'
An older man stood ten yards away from the edge of the fence. He held a staff before himself and used it to point right at Vheod as he lay in the dust. The man could see him?
Then Vheod noticed the symbol that hung from the tip of the man's staff. While he didn't recognize it specifically, he knew it for what it was-the holy symbol of a priest. Some divine-granted sight must allow him to see that which was otherwise invisible.
Curse all gods!
Vheod could already hear people running toward them. The words and gestures to a spell of fire and destruction came to his mind, seemingly unbidden.
No!
Still invisible, he didn't need to resort to attack yet, and hopefully not at all. Vheod wished he'd been taught more potent magic-particularly something that might counter the priest's ability to detect him. Studies of that degree, however, had been beyond him. He had only the simplest spells at his command. A deep snort came from directly above him. He rolled to one side, still lying on the ground. A horse's hoof crashed down to the ground where he'd lain. The horses stomped around and snorted, shaking their manes and whinnying. Looking back at the priest, Vheod saw the gray-bearded, bald man stretch his neck one way then the other. Perhaps, Vheod thought, it was difficult for the priest to keep an eye on him with the confusing movements of the horses all around him. Behind the man, more of the villagers came running. Most carried weapons, shaking them in tight fists.
Vheod grabbed a small stone from within his reach and hurled it at the nearest building behind the cleric. He hoped the horses shielded his action. The old man quickly turned toward the sound of it striking the wood. As he did, the others behind him also turned.
Vheod once again hurled himself over the back of one of the mounts, this time prepared for its violent reaction. It did indeed rear, but Vheod gripped at the horse's neck tightly, his strong legs wrapping around its midsection as best he could. Utilizing the beast's fear and anger, he coaxed it toward the fence. It bolted in that direction. When the horse reached the fence, it leaped over it without slowing. Vheod dug his boot heels into its sides and yanked at the mane, hoping to make it even angrier. The horse carried him far and fast away from the village. He didn't look back.
Vheod didn't know what direction to ride other than away. He left the forest, the thick clumping of trees giving way abruptly to a grassland of gently rolling hills. A warm breeze brushed across the landscape against the direction in which he rode. The miles passed by him, Vheod using the horse's anger and fear as best he could. Eventually the horse slowed. Apparently its anger could only last so long. Vheod grew tired of aggravating it, anyway. The two moved slowly through the tall grasses, the sun-the very existence of which Vheod was only now
