found it difficult to imagine that she could possibly succeed in her quest without her brother-and that would mean losing her mother and father as well.
Vheod had spoken about the loss of memories, but Melann had assumed that she'd just been waylaid in the woods and brought to the tree-perhaps by magic. He was sure that the two of them fought then way into the Ravenwitch's lair and something have attacked their minds. He was convincing. The fact that their horses lay slain outside of the tree certainly lent credence to his idea, but Melann simply couldn't remember any of it.
They stood in the round chamber one story above its almost identical counterpart on the ground level. The wooden table and stools grew up from the floor at a manner that occupied much of Melann's attention. She marveled at the way they had been something shaped, presumably as the tree grew. The whole room had obviously been shaped by careful planning and great skill with plants. Her mind drew back to the Ravenwitch. Melann considered their predicament, and the need to find Whitlock.
'At what point do you believe our minds were attacked?' she asked Vheod.
'Up high in the tree,' he answered. 'The first thing I can remember is standing in a woody corridor with rose vines and black moss and-'
Vheod paused suddenly, his dark eyes growing wide. 'What is it, Vheod?' Melann asked. 'Melann, you have some knowledge of plants, right?' Vheod asked with a rapid intensity. 'Well, yes, but I-'
'Have you ever heard of some sort of moss or fungus that can affect one's mind?'
'Well…' Melann ran through her training, and all she'd ever heard or read about mosses, lichens, and fungi. 'Yes! There's something I believe is called, obviously enough, memory moss. It feeds on memories. Patches of it can be found in magical glens and enchanted areas, sometimes underground.' 'Is it black?' 'I… I think so.'
'Well, now we know what we're up against then, at least.' Vheod leaned back against the wall. He seemed more relaxed. 'Is there any way we can fight it?'
'I would imagine it could be burned,' Melann told him. 'But Vheod, I can't… I mean, I'm not supposed to…' She paused, with a pained expression.
'What is it?' Vheod furrowed his brow in obvious concern.
'I can't willingly destroy a growing thing-even I something like memory moss. It's against everything I I've ever been taught.'
Vheod replied with a question as he drew his sword. 'How do you know the tree isn't a thing of evil? It's creator obviously is, isn't she?'
'I assume so, but a tree cannot be evil. It is but a tree. Besides, the Ravenwitch almost certainly didn't create the tree. She just shaped it, if it was her at all.
Melann considered that perhaps the Ravenwitch had killed the original caretaker of the tree or had forced another to shape it for her. She just couldn't reconcile in her mind that the same person responsible for the amazing nurturing and caring that went into the creation of this tree fortress could have sent foul, wicked ravens to attack them and abduct her brother.
'I think well learn soon enough,' Vheod said, moving to the stairs.
Vheod's tall but graceful form emerged from the shadows of the staircase, illuminated by the magical light conjured by Melann's priestly faith. His long, cold steel blade bared before him, he advanced into the dark room he knew earlier had been filled with ravens. The chamber stank of bird droppings and feathers, and as Melann carefully followed Vheod up the stairs and into the room, they both could see that this indeed had been a roost for the black-feathered birds.
Now, however, the room stood empty and utterly silent. As Vheod moved to the center of the room, he looked all around and up onto the high shelf where he'd seen the ravens roosting earlier. The ravens were gone. He paused a moment to listen, motioning for Melann to remain at the top of the stairs.
Far above, he heard the distant sounds of shrill shrieks. The ravens had moved higher into the sayerior of the tree and now seemed to be agitated in cone way. Vheod was too far away to determine more. He rushed across the room to the stairs leading higher up. Melann moved from the other staircase and followed him. When he reached the top of that flight of stairs, Vheod paused. This was about where he first remembered being in the tree and thus perhaps where his memories were stolen from him. He looked ahead in the light as the illumination brightened with Melann's approach. She stopped quietly a few steps. How where he stood, but Vheod could see in the magical light the black moss that streaked the wooden walls like blood from a wound or rust on metal. He was sure he hadn't seen this sort of moss anywhere else on the tree. It might not be the culprit that had stolen their memories, Vheod knew.
Even if it wasn't to blame, he had little to lose. Vheod sheathed his sword and began reciting the incantation for a spell he'd learned in a dark corner of Broken Reach. A tanar'ri wizard named Chirotobyn had taught him a number of minor spells in exchange for a full year of Vheod's service as a bodyguard. It had been a busy year, for Chirotobyn had many enemies. But Vheod served his temporary master well, however, and even managed to get the tanar'ri to hold up his rid of the bargain, though Chirotobyn had only done it at the end of Vheod's sword. In any event, Vheod owe spread his fingers, thumbs touching, forming a spell with his hands. As he did, flames leaped from his fingertips, jetting outward against the walls of the corridor ahead of him. The fire splashed against the hardwood, which was too firm and solid to catch fire, Hough it blackened and scorched.
The moss, on the other hand, burned away just as Vheod had hoped. The passage through the tree filled with flickering light as the moss took the flame. As it did, the black, stringy substance changed its shape before his eyes. While Vheod watched, the moss formed a perfect image of his own face, howling in pain while it burned. The face contorted hideously-then reformed to gain the appearance of Melann's face.
Vheod looked away. He couldn't bear to see the wracked expression of the moss Melann face burning in the flames he'd conjured. Thankfully, the fire burned the moss quickly and thoroughly, almost disintegrating the stringy strands completely. What little remained fell to the floor as a dark powder. The hall went mostly dark again, lit only by the magical light Melann still held cupped in her hands on the staircase below Vheod.
The horrible display on Melann's face seemed to confirm in Vheod's mind that the moss had somehow stolen a portion of their memories. A useful defense, he mused, assuming the Ravenwitch herself had some immunity to the affect. Obviously, when the memory moss struck, the witch or her servants had grabbed Melann. Perhaps they had come back for him, but he'd already wandered off to another portion of the tree fortress. His tanar'ri nature probably allowed him to shrug off the effects more quickly than they-whoever they were-had predicted.
Vheod turned to Melann and again motioned for her to wait. Her face showed concern. She wasn't the type who liked to wait while others went into danger-Vheod had realized that early on. He wanted to make sure the corridor ahead was safe, and he'd also observed that neither Melann nor Whitlock possessed his skill at moving quietly. Obviously, they'd not grown up in an environment filled with fiends that would slay them at the slightest provocation.
Vheod hunched down so he was almost crawling on 'rinds and knees and crept forward down the corridor. The illumination behind him enabled him to see enough-more than if he weren't half tanar'ri. As he Dipped silently down the passage he felt a strange tangling sensation on his wrist. He didn't need to see it, all to know it was the Taint, but he had no idea what the feeling meant. He pressed forward.
The passage twisted and turned but sprouted no side passages. It almost seemed to Vheod that he and Melann had climbed up through the trunk of the fee, and now he crept inside one of the gigantic branches. The corridor split into two, and Vheod had idea which way to go. He also had passed far away from Melann's light that he could really see just a little more than nothing. He would have to go back and get her. Before he did he allowed himself another moment to just listen. Again he heard he high shrieks of upset ravens, and though they seemed closer, Vheod's ears detected the sounds of lower of them now.
Worst of all-or perhaps best of all-amid the flying birds he heard what sounded like a man groaning in pain. Whitlock. Vheod ran back down the corridor as quietly as he would, but as quickly as he dared. The light grew brighter with each step, until he reached Melann once again at the top of the stairs near the scorched corridor walls. She looked at him with silent expectation. 'I think Whitlock is ahead somewhere. We must be careful, and as quiet as possible.' 'Is he all right?' She asked emphatically, the excitement and anxiety a living thing in her eyes. 'I don't know,' Vheod said in a forced whisper. 'I think he's alive, but I think he might be hurt or in danger.'
'Then let's go,' Melann stressed, attempting to press ahead of Vheod.
The cambion turned to the dark passage and stepped forward so he remained in the lead. He drew his
