wizard, and that the wizard cursed him and his entire line. The curse strikes down family members erratically, sometimes in childhood, sometimes as adults, sometimes skipping entire generations altogether. Each time it's the same thing-a wasting malady weakens and finally overcomes them. That was really all our family knew.
'We were lucky in that we encountered a pair of traveling sages passing through our town. When we spoke to them, they told us that the wizard-who's name, they said, was Chare'en-had kept a magical staff that could lift any curse he had bestowed. The staff, they said, was buried with him in his crypt.'
'These sages,' Vheod asked, following a hunch, 'what do you remember of them?'
'Not much,' Whitlock replied, shaking his head. 'I think their names were Gyrison and ah… Arach.'
Vheod's mouth dropped open in surprise. Did that make the whole tale more believable, or less? He really couldn't be sure. Thinking back, he knew he'd never told Melann and Whitlock the names of the priests he'd encountered in those spider-infested woods.
“I’m afraid that after hearing what the Ravenwitch had to say,' Melann spoke up, 'I believe we've either been lied to or we've made some horrible mistake.'
'If we don't go and find out for ourselves, well never rest,' her brother said. 'We'll never forgive ourselves if Mother and Father succumb to the curse. As much as ever, we've got to go. We've got to find the crypt of Chare'en-or his prison, or whatever it is.'
Melann sighed heavily. 'You're right, Whitlock. You're absolutely right.' She turned to Vheod. 'We have to go. The Ravenwitch said we wouldn't find anything without you, but I would understand if you didn't want to go.'
Vheod couldn't help but admire their convictions, and their bravery. This was the point at which circumstances put his convictions, and more, his faith in himself, to the test. The Ravenwitch had said he'd come to Toril to free Chare'en. The Taint seemed to be leading him onward, and he had little remaining doubt that the Taint was evil and untrustworthy. Still, he had to believe he was ultimately in control of his own actions.
If I can't trust that much, he thought, I should just give up on myself right now. If I can't believe that I control my own actions, I don't want to live.
Besides, if the Ravenwitch had been lying and Gyrison and Arach spoke the truth, then he could be on hand to make sure that Whitlock and Melann didn't free Chare'en accidentally.
But there was more to it, as well. He only now considered that if they parted company, he would leave Melann. He didn't want to do that-the sudden pain at the thought of not seeing her again scared him. He cared for her deeply. He also liked the part of himself that found the wonderful qualities within her attractive. He thought about how a part of him had initially reacted to the Ravenwitch, and it frightened him. Was there really a part of him that missed his life in the Abyss?
In short, he liked himself more when he was with Melann, and he feared being apart from her.
'Well have to be wary of gnolls, of course,' Vheod stated.
Both Melann and Whitlock smiled.
Chapter Fifteen
Everything was working perfectly. Wind tossed Orrag's thin hair about his head, but he didn't notice. His hideous face was gripped in an evil, toothy grin. He and his small band of followers crouched in the trees watching as the gnolls finished their work.
The gnolls had arrived before Orrag and his men and cleared away all of the debris. The cave-like entrance, free of the fallen rock that had buried it for years, lay exposed for the first time in centuries. Convenient. Already his men had hidden the digging tools they'd brought in the underbrush.
Of course, now there were two hundred gnolls between the crypt entrance and Orrag. He turned and looked at his men. They numbered six-no match for that many gnolls. Two of them had some particular talents that might help.
'Gyrison, Arach, come here,' he whispered.
Two figures, still crouching, sneaked to his side. They joined him as he watched the gnolls. The shorter, rounder of the two spoke up. 'What is wrong?'
'Yes, what is wrong?' the taller one also asked.
Gyrison and Arach had taken some getting used to on Orrag's part, but they were useful. 'Can you do something to help get these gnolls out of the way?'
'They're here to help free their roaster,' Gyrison said. 'Their sham en must have foreseen 'Vheod's coming,' Arach added.
'See how they assemble the stones of the ancient idol they once worshiped?' Gyrison pointed at some of the gnolls carrying green stones. 'The idol of their-' Arach began 'Fine,' Orrag interrupted. 'Whatever. That doesn't change the fact that if we try to go in there they'll tear us apart.'
Arach and Gyrison stared at the gnolls quietly for a moment, never once looking at each other. Then, almost at the same time, they both began softly chanting and making rhythmic hand gestures.
Orrag could hear a rustle in the leaves. He looked around, startled, but saw nothing. The gnolls obviously heard it too. The creatures stopped what they were doing and looked into the forest around them.
A horn sounded nearby, then another, and another-each from a different direction. The sounds of soldiers rushing into battle filled the wood. The gnolls grabbed their weapons and shields. They quickly formed defensive lines as a few barked orders.
The sounds of hundreds of men became the sounds of thousands.
The gnolls howled in fear, and one by one they retreated into the woods. They scattered, wide-eyed, clearly fearing for their lives. As soon as the morale of a few had broken, the gnolls fled in droves, until all had left the clearing around the entrance.
'Excellent,' Orrag said with a grin. 'The ruse won't last long, but it should be enough.' He licked his yellow, pointed teeth with an almost-black tongue, but kept smiling as though this were the happiest day of his foul life.
Gyrison and Arach ended their spell. The sounds of charging soldiers and blaring horns faded away.
'We must hurry,' Arach said to Orrag.
'We must get inside,' Gyrison added.
I’m here for the same reason you are, friends,' Orrag said, not dropping his toothy smile for a moment. 'You don't have to tell me.'
The small group rose from their hiding places, still staring at the entrance. They'd traveled without stopping for the last few days to get here as quickly as possible, but now Orrag wanted to move slowly. He motioned for the rest to follow him, and they crossed the clearing to the cliff Orrag gazed into the dark opening.
'The brother and sister I told you about either didn't make it or have been slowed down,' Orrag told them. 'Unfortunately, since the gnolls will return soon, we can't wait for them.' He turned toward the others. Looking each of them up and down, he finally said, 'Unther, Panish, grab Wenmer and bring him here.'
The man named Wenmer cried out in surprise. Two of the others grabbed him by the arms and dragged him forward. Orrag commanded the remaining man to light a torch, and he led them into the opening in the cliff.
The smooth-cut passage went straight back from the entrance, stopped, and turned to the left. When it stopped again, Orrag motioned for his men to bring Wenmer forward.
'Hold still, man,' Orrag told the captive as he fought to get free. 'The guardian must be appeased. I've been preparing for far too long to let anything distract me from my goal.'
Orrag ran his hand over an amulet suspended around his neck then drew his knife. He looked for Arach and Gyrison, but they remained outside. No matter. He didn't need them anymore.
'Great and powerful Chare'en,' Orrag began to invoke, 'Lord of the Seven Vengeances and Master of the Hosts of Duna…' His voice became a mumbling chant in a language men were never meant to speak.
Wenmer cried out, but his screams were not heeded. The other men looked neither at Orrag nor at Wenmer, as if they had neither the strength nor the stomach to confront either. The two holding Wenmer kept him as still as they could.
