and cut off your ears to shut you up.”
She took three steps into the billowing mist, then stopped as she realized, with a jolt of fear, that the mist right in front of her face was formed of tiny red crystals suspended in the air. The Voidharrow and the plague, she thought. That’s not a plague I want to catch.
Behind her, Uldane cried out again, and she whirled around. The demon was right behind her, right in the midst of the lizardfolk warriors-and right on top of Quarhaun, its horrid face looking directly at her as it sank its claws into the drow’s body.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Roghar, wait,” Travic said.
Roghar was poised to charge down the hall after the fleeing humans, but Travic’s words brought him up short. He turned to look back at his companions, and the battle fury ebbed from his heart.
Travic still lay on the ground, barely strong enough to lift his head. Tempest sagged against the wall, breathing hard, her eyes looking around wildly as if following the movements of spirits only she could see.
“We’re in no condition to keep fighting,” Travic said.
“Of course,” Roghar said. “I acted without thinking.”
“Again,” the priest said with a smile. “You need to learn to curb your youthful exuberance.”
“Bahamut was with me,” Roghar said. “Proud and fierce.”
“For all his talk of nobility and justice, the Platinum Dragon is a warrior god at heart,” Travic said.
Roghar stepped to Tempest’s side. She recoiled, staring at him with wide eyes, then recognition seemed to sink in to her fevered mind. Her body relaxed, and she let her head drop onto Roghar’s shoulder.
“Easy, Tempest,” he murmured. “You’re safe now.”
Tempest threw her arms around Roghar’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Hesitantly, gently, he enfolded her in his embrace.
As Roghar held Tempest, Travic managed to roll himself up to his knees. Roghar heard the comforting lilt of his prayers to Erathis and the warmth of divine presence around them all.
Erathis holds me, Roghar thought, and I hold you.
Finally, Tempest eased her hold on him and drew away, looking anywhere but into his eyes. Roghar felt strong and whole, and Tempest seemed stronger as well.
“What was it?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Tempest said, still avoiding his gaze. “You know I hate being crowded like that, and Travic’s no good at holding a line.” Finally her eyes met his, and he saw a hint of the anguish she’d been feeling. “I felt trapped.”
“Just like when Nu Alin was controlling your body.”
Tempest looked away and pulled free of his hands. “Are we giving chase?” she asked.
“Are you up to it?” Travic said.
“Of course. Only, let’s make sure we don’t pass any enemies who can attack us from behind this time.”
“Good plan,” Roghar said. “But Travic?”
“Yes?”
“Are you up to this?” Roghar put a hand on Travic’s shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“Marcan was among them, wasn’t he?”
Travic sighed, and some of the strength his prayers had lent him seemed to drain out of his body. “Yes, he was.”
“Do you think something was controlling his mind?”
Travic turned and paced a few steps down the hall, stopping beside the decapitated statue. “I think something changed his mind. Obviously not for the better. But I don’t think it’s a spell that can be broken.”
“Are you prepared to kill him?”
“If it comes to that, then …” Grief washed over Travic’s face. “If there’s no alternative, then yes.”
“All right. We’re dealing with humans, so if it’s possible, we try to knock them out and bring them to the watch. Agreed?” Roghar watched Tempest carefully as he awaited her response.
“Of course,” Travic said.
Tempest nodded, then frowned. “On what charge?”
“What?” Roghar said.
“We bring them to the watch on what charge? Do we know they’re guilty of anything?”
“They attacked us.”
“The gnoll and the statue did. What the humans were doing would be easy to paint as self-defense. We’re barging into their home. Of course they’re fighting back.”
“We’re barging into the temple where they’re worshiping Asmodeus,” Roghar said.
“Or Tiamat,” Travic added.
“Or some other evil god or demon lord.”
“We assume,” Tempest said.
“Right. But I think it’s highly unlikely we’re going to round that corner and find that these ragged humans and their gnoll friend set up an animated statue to protect their little secret temple of Bahamut. Not to mention the whispers.”
“Fine,” Tempest said. “Assuming we round the corner and find a temple to some sinister power, I’ll try not to kill them unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m just trying to make sure we’re doing the right thing.”
Roghar sighed and scratched his jaw. “Look, Tempest,” he said. “I know it’s not always easy to know what’s right and what’s wrong. And I know we’re walking in a great gray area where the lines are even less clear than usual. But it means a lot to me that you’re even trying to sort it out.”
She smiled faintly. “So what’s the plan?”
“Well, I don’t expect they’ve gone far, unless they’ve fled out a back entrance. More likely, they’re putting up their defense in their shrine or temple, or whatever is around that corner.”
Tempest nodded. “So we charge around the corner-you first, naturally-and unleash everything we have. Trying not to kill them, of course.”
“A little more caution is probably warranted,” Travic said. “They’ve had several minutes to prepare their defenses. They might have activated traps. At the least, they’ve taken up the most advantageous positions they can find.”
“Right,” Roghar said. “But we don’t have a lot of tactical flexibility. There’s only three of us, and there’s only one way we can approach, as far as we know.”
He ran through other possibilities in his mind. Searching for another entrance could give their quarry a chance to escape, and it would mean navigating the whispering crater again. And he had no real reason to suspect that another entrance even existed, except that it would be tactically convenient.
Alas, he thought, reality rarely conforms to convenience.
“So I charge around the corner,” he said, “cautiously. You two watch out for traps, and you help me flush out any cultists that are hidden behind cover.”
“Is that what they are?” Tempest said. “Cultists?”
“That’s my working assumption at this point,” Roghar said, scowling at her.
“I suppose it helps to put a name on them. I mean, besides Marcan.”
“Please stop it,” Travic said. “This is hard enough for me already.”
“Is it?” Tempest asked. “Can killing people ever be hard enough?”
Travic drew himself up, anger boiling in his eyes. “I will not listen to lectures on morality from a warlock who bargains with infernal powers!”
Tempest’s eyes smoldered with fire as she glared at the priest. “Does the mouth that speaks it make the truth any less true?”
“I know the precarious path I walk,” Travic said. “I grapple with these questions every night, when sleep
