particular. The half-dragon stretched and sat up.
'Come to me,' he commanded softly, and instantly, a figure stood before him, one of the servants Kaanyr Vhok had offered as part of the palatial accoutrements of his magical safehold.
The figure, a human woman dressed in diaphanous silks, smiled and waited, watching the draconic hobgoblin mutely.
Myshik arose from his bed and dressed quickly, donning his full armor and weaponry. He felt rested, refreshed. He was also giddy with anticipation. He checked over his gear once, twice, a third time, knowing he could make no mistakes and survive.
'Lead me,' he commanded softly. 'Show me the door to the canomorph's chamber.'
Without a word, the servant turned and began to walk. She moved through Myshik's own door into the tapestried and carpeted hallway beyond. She moved silently, crossing the floor on dainty feet that seemed to barely touch the ground.
The draconic hobgoblin followed, trying to emulate her as best he could. He was not a deft being, and his boots thudded more loudly than he would have liked.
The beautiful servant paused in front of a door, not far from the half-dragon's own. She wordlessly pointed at it and stood still, watching him and smiling gently.
Myshik thought carefully about how to word his next instruction. If he did not explain it thoroughly and correctly, the consequences would be disastrous. Finally, he formulated his order. 'Without disturbing Kaanyr Vhok in anyway, enter his chambers, retrieve the sculpted archway that creates this place, and return with it to me.'
As the servant vanished, Myshik slipped through the door and entered Kurkle's chambers. The half- hobgoblin was assaulted by overwhelming heat. He gasped as waves of it crashed against him, carrying the stench of burning stone. The ring upon the hobgoblin's finger repelled the brunt of the devastating swelter, but he broke out in a sweat immediately.
The room looked nothing like a guest room. It appeared more like a small hollow upon the blasted landscape of the Plane of Fire, a sheltered spot among low stone ridges made of scorched and glowing hot rock. The light was dim, as it had been in Myshik's room and in the hall outside, so his eyes had no trouble spying the figure curled up within the hollow.
Kurkle was sleeping in hound form, but his canine head rose up at Myshik's approach. The canomorph let out a low growl and leaped to his feet as the half-dragon rushed at him. He hefted the dwarven war axe high in the air and swung forward.
Kurkle tried to jump clear of the strike, but Myshik was too quick and the canomorph too slowed by the daze of sleep. The axe bit deeply into Kurkle's flank. The impact reverberated with a rumbling boom and knocked the fiery creature aside.
Kurkle yelped in pain as he sprawled away. He tried to stagger upright, but his hind legs didn't work properly. With a keening whimper, the canomorph began to shift form, changing into a half-orc. As he transformed, his belongings appeared, and Kurkle fumbled in a pouch strapped to his hip.
Myshik strode forward again. He pulled his axe back for another blow, eager to strike before his foe extracted the object he sought. Kurkle yanked a flask free and tried to guzzle the contents and roll clear of the draconic hobgoblin at the same time, but even as a humanoid, his injured legs hindered him.
Myshik slammed the axe down hard, splitting the half-orc's skull.
Kurkle's eyes went wide and glazed over as the concussive thump caved most of his head in. The flask fell from his hand and tumbled to the scorching ground. Its contents leaked onto the searing rock, evaporating in thick wisps of greenish steam. His body flopped onto the stones, limp.
Myshik sighed and cleaned the blade of his axe on the dead guide's tunic. 'Sorry, dog-man,' he said softly as he stepped away. 'Nothing personal. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.' He moved to the door and paused, looking back. 'But then again, I never liked being called 'drako.' ' With that, the half-dragon slipped outside.
The servant had returned and waited patiently, the arch clutched in her hands. Myshik listened for a moment to see if her subterfuge had roused the cambion. He heard no cries of anger, no alarms. He feared that Vhok might have warded his room with magic to protect himself from just such an act.
Foolish, trusting fiend, Myshik thought as he took the arch from the servant. My father and uncle do not enter into pacts with the likes of you.
The half-dragon proceeded into the dining room. As he expected, it was empty and dark. He studied the large table that dominated the chamber, wondering if his axe held within it the power to destroy the thing.
Only one means to find out, he decided.
Hoisting the axe, he raised it as high as his arms would stretch and called on all his strength. With one powerful downstroke, Myshik slashed the head of the axe against the surface of the magical table. With an ear- splitting crack, the thunderous weapon sundered the table, splitting it into two separate halves.
Myshik smiled in satisfaction. That ought to do it, he thought. Time to go.
The hobgoblin turned and hurried from the room. He strode toward the entrance of the palace. He approached the door, sealed shut with stone, and recalled how Vhok had opened it the previous morning. Myshik had made certain to pay careful attention so he would be able to mimic Vhok's gestures precisely. He blew through the arch and watched as the shimmering curtain appeared.
Behind him, the half-hobgoblin heard a muffled shout. The glow of a lantern brightened the hallway above and behind him, from the direction of Vhok's chambers.
'Hope you enjoy your new home, demon,' Myshik muttered softly. He stepped through the portal. 'You're going to be here a while,' he added as he stepped into the heat and smoke of the tortured Plane of Fire. 'In fact,' he finished, 'I sincerely hope forever.' The half-dragon then held his lips to the arch and blew once more.
The magical doorway winked out.
CHAPTER TEN
'Damn that traitorous, blue-skinned bastard!' Kaanyr Vhok roared, holding a fragment of splintered wood. He stared at the ruined dining table. He wanted to wrap his fingers around the half-hobgoblin's neck, choke the life from him. He could feel his own neck bulging from anger. 'Damn him and his cursed axe, too! Damn his whole clan to the foulest pits of the Nine Hells!' Vhok screamed, flinging the shard across the chamber. He turned and stalked out of the room.
Zasian, who had just neared the dining chamber, had to press himself against the wall of the corridor to avoid being overrun by the stalking cambion. As Vhok stormed past, the priest said, 'Your fears were correct. Kurkle is dead.'
Vhok did not acknowledge his companion's words. He already knew the ivory sculpture that would permit them egress from the mansion was gone. It only made sense that Myshik would have killed their guide and destroyed their map.
Leave no stone unturned in the act of betrayal, Vhok thought bitterly.
After the cambion passed, Zasian spun and followed, a frown on his face. 'I am not sure how we can extricate ourselves from this space,' he said. 'Removing the focus from within the extradimensional pocket precludes us from-'
'I swear,' Vhok interrupted, 'when we do get out of here, I'm going to roast that hobgoblin on an open spit!' He reached the front door, nothing more than a stone wall without the arch. He pounded his fist against it. 'And I'm going to go to that mountain, and I'm going to gut his father and his uncle,' he added, beginning to pace. 'Damn them,' he spat again.
'Calm yourself, Vhok,' Zasian said, taking a seat on the bottom step of one of the twin staircases. 'One thing at a time. First, let's figure out a means of extricating ourselves, then we can worry about revenge.'
'Blast!' the half-fiend snarled. 'I trusted him. I trusted all of them! What kind of a fool am I?' His anger was so acute that he could see spots swimming in his vision. All he wanted was one chance to confront the draconic hobgoblin. One chance to impart due payment.
