want, then I will be here, ready to guide you. Until then, you will remain here and contemplate what it means.'
Aliisza felt a pang of fear surge through her. She realized that, despite his arrogant superiority and obvious disdain for her, she did not want Tauran to leave her alone. 'When will you return?' she asked, even though she really wanted to ask him to stay. She couldn't ask, though. She refused to appear that weak to the angel.
'Soon,' he replied. 'But you will not be alone, Aliisza. Others are coming. And you must face them,' he said, and the alu heard a warning in those last words. It sent a shiver down her spine.
'What others?' she asked. 'Face them how?'
'Those you have wronged in your life,' the deva replied. 'Those whom you've tread upon to get the things you crave. You must face them, confront what you've inflicted upon them, and decide for yourself what needs to be done.'
Aliisza shivered. Suddenly, all the gentle shadows in the garden seemed much darker, more sinister. The chimes blowing in the breezes rang much harsher than before. For the first time in her life, Aliisza was terrified.
All of her personal demons were coming.
CHAPTER NINE
'This way!' Zasian shouted, urging his companions to follow.
Vhok parried a club strike from a fiery centaur and jammed the blade of Burnblood into the creature's chest. The bandit bellowed and reared up in pain as the hole erupted with molten goo. The cambion had to fling himself backward to avoid his foe's flailing hooves. That desperate act nearly sent him over the side of the ravine behind him.
The centaur staggered away from Vhok, clutching at its wound, but two more took its place. The half-fiend spun, desperate to keep from being pinned against the edge of the drop-off. He ducked beneath a spear thrust and knocked the stone weapon aside with his scepter. The cambion feinted to his right, luring the pair of bandits to shift their weight that way. When they bought his bluff, he wheeled back to the left. The two centaurs, their black, stony bodies popping and crackling with the effort, struggled to keep up. Again, though, the cambion only feinted.
When he had the two opponents suitably off balance, Vhok made a half-hearted swipe with his sword at the legs of the creature to his left, forcing it to rear up to avoid the attack.
He followed through with another feint of escape to his right, causing the other centaur to sidestep.
That was what Vhok had been waiting for. As the gap between the two creatures widened, the cambion launched himself through it, tumbling past them to the other side.
Both bandits turned to try to prevent him from slipping past them. Though they flanked him, he was much faster and more nimble. He easily dodged their clumsy spear thrusts. One of them accidentally struck its companion. The injured centaur bucked and kicked at its counterpart, snarling some unintelligible curse in their native language.
Vhok landed on one knee, a few feet from Myshik. The half-dragon battled two more of the bandits. He swung his great dwarven war axe in huge arcs. He had already made contact at least once, for one of the centaurs limped, its foreleg dragging uselessly upon the ground. The pair of bandits kept a respectable distance from the whistling axe.
'More come,' the blue-tinged draconic hobgoblin grumbled to Vhok as the cambion took up a position back to back with him. Vhok saw Myshik jerk his head in the direction of the newcomers.
Vhok glanced where his companion indicated. He saw that the blazing, smoking centaur he had initially wounded seemed to be guzzling some draught from a brass flask. The contents of the container must have been a magical healing substance, for Vhok could see the wound in the creature's chest diminishing.
Worse, the half-fiend could see another handful of centaurs in the distance. Their forms appeared as little more than hazy silhouettes in the drifting, acrid smoke that shrouded the landscape. It was obvious to Vhok that they were hurrying to join their embattled companions, crossing the spider-webbed maze of lava-filled ravines in great leaps.
The cambion swore softly and turned the other way, seeking Zasian. He saw the priest receding in the distance, striding upon the air itself. The human magically traversed a ravine, a gap easily twenty paces wide. Beside him, Kurkle moved in similar fashion, though the canomorph seemed much less certain of his newfound transport than the priest. The guide slunk step by step through the smoky air, peering about nervously.
Zasian paused halfway across a ravine and glanced back at his companions. When he caught Vhok's eye, he motioned for the half-fiend to hurry. Then he turned and continued, escaping the fight.
Vhok swore again. Sweat poured from his body, stinging his eyes and soaking his clothing and armor. The acrid stench of smoke and burning stone assaulted his nose and throat, making them sore and dry. His blade hung low, nearly touching the ground, for his strength had been sapped by the endless fighting. His arm felt leaden.
No, that's not quite right, Vhok thought. Lead would merely melt and puddle on the scorched ground here.
It had been a long, tiresome day, and the quartet of travelers had been journeying for only a short time. Upon returning to the fiery plane after their night's repose, Vhok and the others had found Kurkle impatient for the foursome to be on their way. The canomorph had urged them to make haste. He warned them that the bandits were gathering in force. The situation had grown beyond the mere inconvenience of a raiding party. For whatever reason, the tribal centaurs had taken a keen interest in the planar visitors and seemed intent on hunting them down.
'If we hurry and stay out of sight,' Kurkle had said, 'we can reach the Islands ahead and slip away. They won't follow us there.'
Hoping the canomorph had a good sense for such things, the three visitors and their guide set off. Despite their best efforts, the bandits had stayed on their trail and continued to harass them. The group's progress had turned into a running battle.
Over the course of the morning, the land had begun to change. The rolling, open ground bisected by endless meandering ravines had flattened out. The ravines had steadily grown deeper, more sheer, and wider. Rivulets of liquid flame coursed through the bottoms of the trenches. As they progressed, the depth of the molten rock had increased. The land was gradually sloping downward, becoming isolated, flat-topped mesas of solid terrain surrounded by networks of wide lava channels.
No, Vhok thought, islands of land in a sea of lava. We have reached our destination. Now to see if the hound's prediction was accurate.
'We don't want to stay here,' the half-fiend warned Myshik as the centaurs began to close warily. 'Zasian and the guide are already moving out. I think we're at the Islands.'
Myshik nodded in understanding. 'Can you flee?' the half-hobgoblin asked, lunging forward and slicing at one of the four bandits. The centaur reared up and backward to evade the cut.
'I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve,' Vhok said, gasping as he parried three different spear thrusts. In truth, much of his magic was already gone, exhausted during the running skirmish. But he had the means to escape the predicament he and Myshik were in. 'The question,' he puffed as he smacked a spear away with his scepter, 'is whether you do.'
'I do,' Myshik replied, cleaving a spear in half as it strayed too close to him. 'Help me get near the edge. The direction they went,' he added. 'Then I can take care of myself.'
Vhok grunted his assent and drew a deep breath, prepared to pick up the tempo of the battle.
One of the centaurs nearest him snarled and reared up. It kicked at the cambion with its hooves. It held its spear aloft in both hands, ready to slam it down and run Vhok through. The cambion avoided the flailing forelegs and made a daring move. He dashed forward, beneath the rearing beast. He jabbed Burnblood up into the creature's underbelly just as it dropped down on all fours again. The centaur screamed in agony and teetered to the side as the half-fiend tumbled out of the way.
