surface of the giant tree that he almost couldn't see its bark. The only difference between the black rose vines on the dog creature was that the thorns on it were pronounced and appeared particularly dangerous.
The thorn-covered beast growled at Vheod and leaned back into a battle-ready stance. Vheod had no desire to fight this dog, but judging by the wounds on its back and side and the yellowish substance that oozed from them like sap from a tree, he'd fought before. Now the creature that he couldn't remember wanted a rematch. Vengeance and anger filled its red eyes. “Fine,' Vheod said to the beast resignedly. 'If this is what you want so badly, come and get it.' He hefted his blade, dropping the torch to the bare earth so he could hold his sword in both hands.
The thorny dog leaped at him, snarling. Its yellow teeth were the same color as its flesh, and its tongue was simply a darker version of the same shade. Vheod suddenly realized the dog was more plant than animal.
He slashed with his sword but misjudged the hound's speed. The dog ducked under the swing and lunged at Vheod, teeth bared. Vheod's breastplate protected him from the creature's bite, but the force of the attack knocked Vheod to the ground. Worse, the creature's thorn-covered hide slashed Vheod's arms as he struggled to get the beast off him. He wriggled free and a half-hearted slash with his sword caught the dog's underbelly, slicing into it. The wound oozed more sap, and the beast howled and backed away, angrier than ever.
The dog circled around Vheod, which gave him time to regain his feet. Lunging at him yet again, the beast went for Vheod's throat, but he was ready this time. A quick thrust with his sword plunged the blade into the dog's spine-if it had one-through the back of its neck. Vheod pounded the hilt of his sword with his off hand to shove it even deeper. Phlegmy sap bubbled up from the wound, and the beast fell silently to its side with a gurgling noise. Vheod didn't know if it could really be dead, for he wasn't sure what actually defined its life.
He drew his sword out of the creature and wiped the sap and the blood from it on the sparse grass the shade prevented much, from growing around the looming tree. Vheod looked back to the horses and saw that the ravens had ceased their carrion feeding. Now they all stared at him. An urge to charge at them, scaring them off or killing them, rose to his throat and into his mind, but something made him look up.
Silent, staring ravens teemed over the impossibly high branches of the trees. Some appeared, at least at this distance, to be as large as the giant raven at his feet, or the one that carried Whitlock away. This wouldn't be a good battle to pick, he surmised. Not now. Besides, he wasn't sure what it could accomplish.
With the horses here, he reasoned, Melann could only be somewhere inside the tree. They must have entered together. Something stole away his memories, or his consciousness, or both. Perhaps the same thing had happened to her. Vheod thought of Melann wandering around inside the tree alone, and he picked up the torch again. It had gone out, but a few moment's work with flint and tinder nursed the flames back to life. Vheod thrust himself back through the curtain, this time remembering to use his sword to move the thorny curtain aside.
Something bid Vheod to check the stairway that descended into the earth. Though he thought it more likely that she was above, nearer where he found himself earlier, he crossed to the stairs.
The torchlight proved valuable as he descended. The passage at the bottom of the steps was low and narrow. Roots, some huge, some small, wrapped around the passage and sometimes bisected it. Small roots dangled from the ceiling, and Vheod had to be careful not to ignite them with his flaming brand. Moist earth was all around him, which produced a thick, rich odor. Soon after leaving the steps, the passage split into two. Vheod chose the left path, but it split again after fewer than a dozen steps. He could hear dripping water in the distance, but there was little sign of occupation.
Vheod had an idea. He kneeled down on the ground. Lowering the torch, he examined an area of soft earth on the floor between two roots. His search proved fruitful, for he found two booted footprints still fresh in the dirt. Neither was his, but they might have been Melann's. He pressed onward.
When he came to the next branching intersection in the root tunnels, he searched the ground for more tracks. Finding another boot print, he followed that branch of the passage. Occasionally, he had to duck underneath or climb over a root that stretched from wall to wall into the passageway. The going was slow, and the hanging roots and tubers continually made Vheod jump, for their startling appearance always resembled the movement of some creature. The weight of the earth above him and narrowness of the tunnel was oppressive. Perhaps it was only Vheod's imagination, but it seemed the passages continually became narrower and narrower. His hair and clothing was soon caked with fresh, black earth that clung to him when he brushed too close to a wall or the ceiling above him. The rich odor of the fresh soil became a thick, gagging, overbearing atmosphere of worm-laden dirt and mud.
He tracked the passage of the booted prints farther, but after two more intersections, he noticed something odd about them. It appeared that the person making these footprints was dragging something, or two things. Twin marks marred the earth. Farther on, Vheod found still more such tracks. Now, however, he could tell that the load the individual was dragging was a body-the marks he found were another pair of boots sliding along the ground. He hurried forward.
Finally, the narrow passage gave way to a larger chamber. The ceiling remained low, but the chamber stretched out to the left and the right farther than the light of Vheod's torch allowed him to see. His tanar'ri eyes allowed him greater vision in the dark than most men, but he still couldn't make out the extreme edges of the chamber. The torchlight passed over the dangling and protruding roots creating strange, snaky shadows. These serpentine shades danced and writhed in his flickering light, disturbed by his own movements.
The sound of dripping water was louder now. In fact, Vheod could hear what sounded like the gentle splashes of slowly running water somewhere ahead in the darkness. He advanced and saw that the chamber was cleft in two by a chasm at least fifteen feet wide. Gazing down into the trench, Vheod saw that water ran slowly over twenty feet below in an underground stream.
A single wide root stretched across the chasm like a bridge. Vheod approached and judged the root to be about three feet wide-enough to allow him to cross. He climbed on the rounded, twisted root, and made his way across. Numerous branching roots eased his passage, allowing him something to grasp as he walked across the treacherous, makeshift bridge. This tactic had forced him to sheathe his sword, but his weary arm was glad not to carry it for a while anyway.
His boot slipped on the soft, damp root, and his body slid to one side of the bridge. As his feet gave way underneath him, he flailed out with his free arm. He frantically grasped for anything he could get his hands on. He found himself dangling below the bridge, hanging from nothing but a single root strand. His shout of surprise and fear echoed throughout the underground chamber and across the submerged river.
He needed both hands to pull himself up and fast- before the root he clung to tore free. That would mean dropping the torch, however. Vheod considered trying to hold the torch in his mouth for a moment, but visions of his long hair catching fire forced him to drop it into the darkness and water.
Vheod heard a muted splash, then all went dark. He cursed himself for a fool as he realized he could have thrown the torch to either side of the chasm, hoping it might rest, and if it went out, he would at least have a slowly diminishing light rather than the darkness that now enveloped him. Vheod's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden jerk and a cracking, tearing sound. He was breaking free from the root bridge.
Using his weight to his advantage, Vheod swung himself on the quickly tearing rootlet and grasped in the darkness like a bund man. His now-free hand found another hanging root strand, and he grasped it just in time as the first tore away. The sudden added weight, however, caused this new strand to begin to tear, so he thrust his hand upward to find another.
Somehow he managed to grab hold of yet another strand. Summoning all his strength, Vheod pulled himself upward so he could grasp another, higher strand. His hands clawed at the side of the massive main root as he found higher and higher minor roots that branched from it to pull himself up. Finally, he sat atop the bridge, straddling it like a wide horse. Vheod's tanar'ri vision began to adjust to the complete darkness enough to allow him to see a few feet ahead of him. Crawling and scooting along the bridge-not wanting to risk walking across again- he made his way across it to the other side.
Once on the opposite ledge of the chasm, Vheod stood. Without his torch, he could see only a short distance ahead of him, so he drew his sword to use to feel ahead in the dark. He didn't care for the bright light of day, but the utter finality of darkness was worse, and more limiting, though he could see a little. He preferred the light of an overcast day, or twilight- those were similar to the lighting conditions on the layer of the Abyss in which he'd grown up.
Where had he gotten a torch from anyway? Had Melann given it to him? Vheod seemed to remember vaguely there being a few torches mixed in with the siblings' other equipment on the horses. In any event, he
