rock directly in front of him. He had a clear shot to that place across an open plaza. More importantly, Vhok spied Zasian there. The priest had reached their departure point and waited for him.
But his clever escape had managed to put the cambion more directly in the midst of the large battle. And the massive cloud of vapor Vhok had created also attracted unwanted attention. A number of dwarves broke off from the primary fight with the tanarukks and moved to investigate the disturbance. As he emerged from the cloak of steam, Vhok discovered dwarves directly interposed between him and his destination. Seeing the half-fiend, the dwarves gave a collective shout and advanced at a rapid trot, raising their weapons.
Not again, the cambion groaned to himself. In desperation, he pulled the arctic wand free and aimed it at the oncoming dwarves, hoping to blast his way through them. But when he uttered the trigger word, nothing happened. He had exhausted its magical power. Vhok threw the worthless stick away, snarling. He doubted he had the strength to bull his way through another pack of dwarves.
At that moment, a figure charged from the ruins of a cupola along one side of the plaza. The figure raced across the open ground, heading straight toward the dwarves. As the creature waded into the midst of them, swinging a huge war axe, Vhok recognized it. It belonged to the Blood of Morueme, the ferocious draconic hobgoblins sired by the Clan Morueme dragons.
The cambion heard a sharp, concussive thump as the half-hobgoblin struck, then saw one of the Vigilant sail several paces through the air before landing with a muted splash in a patch of lava that had spilled over and seeped close. The dwarf screamed in agony and tried to escape, but the conflagration that erupted around him quickly silenced his cries.
At the same time, a massive stone wall appeared in the plaza. The barrier divided the dwarves and sealed a significant number of them away from Vhok and the half-dragon, but it left an open alley to reach the promontory. The rest of the stout folk still advanced.
Vhok looked up, knowing where the stone wall had come from. As he gazed over at Zasian, the priest gestured frantically for the cambion to hurry.
With hope of victory restored, Vhok drew his blade and strode forward to cut his way through the dwarves as best he could with Lysalis draped over his shoulder. The sorceress had become still, and he feared she was already dead. As he fought, Vhok kept an eye on the Morueme half-breed and worked to reach the half- hobgoblin's side, hoping to benefit from his protection. Each time the half-dragon's huge axe connected with a foe, Vhok could hear a loud pounding as the enemy it struck was knocked backward with preternatural force. The half-hobgoblin used the weapon to good effect, aiming his blows to slam his victims into other dwarves, cutting a swath for himself to reach Vhok.
When they at last met, the cambion tilted his head once in acknowledgment of thanks. He eyed the mighty weapon his new companion wielded, and noted that it was dwarven in make.
No wonder they're so angry, Vhok thought with a chuckle.
The half-hobgoblin returned the nod and kept swinging, plowing a gap through angry, howling dwarves. Step by step, they made their way together toward the Everfire and Zasian.
At last, the few remaining dwarves had stomached all they wanted of the fierce cambion and his unusual companion, and they fell back. A few of them fired crossbows at Vhok and the others, but Zasian acted quickly, erecting another wall of stone to block their line of sight. The cambion and the half-hobgoblin crossed the remainder of the plaza unmolested. The two of them scrambled up to the point of rock where Zasian waited.
At last, exhausted, Vhok set Lysalis at Zasian's feet. Breathing heavily, he gestured at the fallen sorceress. 'She is badly wounded,' he told the priest. 'Struck by some holy weapon that seems to be taking her life. Can you revive her?'
Zasian frowned and knelt beside the fey'ri, who had lapsed into unconsciousness. 'I will try,' he said, 'but my healing skills are elementary compared to my other talents.'
Vhok turned and looked at the half-hobgoblin. The half-dragon wiped some of the blood off his axe, using a tattered cloak he had torn from a dead dwarf.
'My thanks for your aid in this fight today, Son of Morueme,' Vhok said. 'What brings you to the Everfire in the midst of my battle with the tempestuous dwarves?' He suspected he already knew the answer, but he wanted to see how the half-dragon would reply.
The creature bowed deeply. 'I bid you greetings, Sceptered One. I am Myshik Morueme. I come on behalf of my father, Roraurim, and my uncle, Nahaunglaroth, Lords of Dragon-doom, Masters of the Cerulean Skies, Patriarchs of Clan Morueme. I have been instructed to join with you and offer my services on your impending journey.' The half-hobgoblin smiled.
Vhok eyed Myshik critically for a moment. He doubted the dragons' offer was completely magnanimous, pact or no, and he desired no spies in his midst as he began his journey to reach the Lifespring.
'Your father asked you to accompany me? His offer is most generous, but where I travel, you do not wish to follow.'
Myshik smirked. 'My father instructed me to keep a close eye on you in the event that you would not accept his invitation.' The half-dragon paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. 'I would do his bidding, but I do not relish a game of chase with you. I know you have little reason to trust me, despite your new alliance with our clan, but I am most curious about the great Kaanyr Vhok, commander of the Scourged Legion. I could be of great assistance on this journey of yours, as I hope I have already proven,' he said, hoisting his axe for emphasis. 'Please consider permitting me to accompany you. It would be something of an honor.'
'There's nothing I can do for her,' Zasian said, rising to his feet. 'Whatever poisoned her is beyond my ken to assuage.'
Vhok looked down at Lysalis, who opened her eyes and stared up at the cambion with trepidation. Then he looked at Myshik again. 'You do not even know where I'm going. You're not prepared for this journey, believe me.'
'Indeed,' the half-dragon replied. 'I am at a disadvantage, but I believe I can hold my own if you give me an opportunity.'
Vhok sighed and pondered the offer for a moment. With Lysalis near death, he was short a member of his expedition. Very well, he silently decided. He has proven formidable enough to take a chance.
Drawing his sword, Vhok took hold of Lysalis's right hand and sliced it from her arm. The fey'ri screamed in pain and passed out.
The cambion removed a ring from one of her fingers and handed the magical band to Myshik. 'Put this on, then,' he said, dropping the hand beside the maimed sorceress.
The half-hobgoblin took the ring from Vhok and examined it carefully. A set of four stones-ruby, emerald, sapphire, and garnet-had been inset into the gold band.
'What does it do?' he asked, appraising the ring with a critical eye.
'It keeps you from being turned into a cinder as we cross through the Everfire into the Elemental Plane of Fire,' Vhok replied.
Myshik's eyes grew wide for an instant, then he nodded and slipped the ring on his clawed finger. The band immediately adjusted to fit perfectly.
'I am ready,' he said.
'So it would seem,' Vhok replied, wondering how long the half-dragon would survive. 'Let's go.' Turning to Zasian, the cambion said, 'Lead the way.'
The priest nodded and moved to the end of the outcropping, where it hung over the churning river of lava. He stood there a moment, surveying the maelstrom of fiery liquid below and twisting a ring, identical in design to the one Vhok had given to Myshik. He selected a spot and jumped off the perch. Zasian fell into the molten rock and disappeared beneath the surface.
Vhok and Myshik followed.
Aliisza found herself floating. Nothing surrounded her but a formless gray void. Up and down held no meaning. She was weightless, drifting. She thought to unfurl her wings, to fly in some direction or other, but strangely, the sensation of having wings was absent. She knew where they should be, knew how to control them, but they seemed to be… gone.
The alu tried to remember how she came to be there. Her head swam. She recalled a struggle; she had been injured. The mace! Aliisza remembered the priestess, and the weapon she wielded. It had come right down
