“A crazed cult of the Fire Lord,” Quarhaun suggested with a sidelong grin at the halfling.
“So we stay alert and ready for anything,” Shara said. “No delusions, no surprises.”
“There’s always surprises,” Uldane said brightly.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
With Captain Damar’s permission, Albanon led Kri out of Moorin’s Glowing Tower and into the streets of Fallcrest. Though the sky was only hinting at the approach of dawn, frightened and desperate looking people were everywhere. Families huddled together for warmth against the autumn chill, taking shelter under the eaves of the larger buildings as they snatched at sleep. A few people just stumbled around, wide-eyed with shock, oblivious to the cold and dark.
“The Tower of Waiting,” Kri said, for the fourth or fifth time. “It’s on an island, yes?”
“Correct. We’ll go to the Upper Quays and find a boat to take us over to the island.”
“How far to the quays?” Kri asked.
“Across town,” Albanon said. “A quarter of a mile, perhaps?”
“Quickly!”
Albanon quickened his pace, striding along the Bluff Ridge Road toward the river. Fear and anxiety welled in his chest and gripped his stomach. The town was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, the fear of its people hanging over the streets like smoke. Moorin had occasionally shared stories from his childhood, in the dark decades after the fall of Nerath and the Bloodspear War, that suggested such horrors as Fallcrest was now experiencing, but to Albanon they had been nothing more than stories, coated with the romance of memory of the distant past.
As he walked, his eyes met the despairing gaze of so many refugees-people, citizens of the town, who had lost family members, their homes, all their worldly possessions in this attack. Here and there he saw people laid low with illness, sleeping in alleys for lack of a safe sickbed. Some had great sores on their skin, and on one young man he saw a distinctive crust of red crystals growing around the sores.
For seven years, Fallcrest had been Albanon’s home as he studied with Moorin, and he felt their pain. It wasn’t the same town he had left behind in such a hurry, and it might never be the same even if the demons were driven off or destroyed.
“If the demons are all over Lowtown,” Albanon said, “what’s Nu Alin doing in the Tower of Waiting? Commanding Vestapalk’s troops?”
“You saw the demons at the Temple of Yellow Skulls,” Kri said. “Calling them troops implies some kind of order in the horde. Most of them are stupid brutes. I expect they have pack leaders, but I think Nu Alin has other purposes in the tower.”
“But won’t the tower be crawling with demons? What makes you think we can even get to it?”
“I suspect most of the demons are busy spreading chaos and destruction in Lowtown,” Kri said. “A stealthy approach should serve us well, and if that fails, well, they should not underestimate our power.”
“There’s only the two of us,” Albanon said. “And no one to keep the demons from getting too close.”
“The demons that frighten the Fallcrest guard pose no such great threat to the likes of us.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right,” Kri said. “Now walk faster!”
Albanon quickened his steps again, though he was getting short of breath. “Why such a terrible hurry?
“My divination revealed that Nu Alin was in the Tower of Waiting, but that was nearly five hours ago. He could be anywhere now, but the quicker we get to the tower, the less likely it is he’ll have moved by then.”
“I see.” Talking was becoming too much of an effort, so Albanon concentrated on keeping up his pace and finding the quickest path to the Upper Quays.
He turned off the Bluff Ridge Road onto the Tombwood Road, which ran along the ancient forest that cloaked the southern slopes of Moonstone Hill, the site of the Lord Warden’s estate. Before long, the forest crowded close to the road on their right, and the temple of Erathis stood proud on the left. The temple was brightly lit, and Albanon suspected that many of the plague-struck had found beds and care in the massive stone structure, the town’s largest temple.
“There’s a shrine to Ioun in the temple,” he told Kri. “Do you feel the need to pause for prayer?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Kri growled.
Albanon’s face flushed and he hung his head, pushing himself to a still faster pace. Kri’s words stung. As harsh a master as Moorin could be at times, he was never so outright insulting. I was just trying to be helpful, he protested in his mind.
The House of the Sun was the next major landmark along the road, an old temple of Pelor that lay abandoned for many years after the Bloodspear War. Moorin had always spoken with amusement-and a fair amount of appreciation-of the new priest who had reopened the temple, a firebrand dwarf named Grundelmar. Grundelmar’s zeal for searching out the evil that lurks in the dark places of the world had appealed to Moorin’s adventuresome past, and the few times that Albanon had heard the dwarf speak, he’d always come away longing for adventure.
I think maybe I’ve had enough adventure now, he thought. Let me spend a few years in Sherinna’s library when this is all over, and then maybe I’ll be ready for another adventure.
“We’re almost there,” he told Kri as they passed the House of the Sun. “See the warehouses ahead? The Upper Quays are just past them.”
Kri nodded. In the predawn stillness, Albanon could hear the river rushing and the roar of the falls farther downstream. Firelight filled the sky behind the warehouses, and as he rounded a warehouse, he saw the bonfires and bright torches lining the quays. Soldiers stood by every fire, peering into the darkness and clutching their spears.
“Forget the demons,” Albanon muttered. “Can we get past Fallcrest’s defenders?”
“They’ll let us through,” Kri said. “But we need a boat first.”
“Right. Follow me.” Albanon turned to the right and made for the quay near the town’s north wall. Fishers tended to gather there, where they could venture onto the river at a safe distance from the falls, and Albanon had heard adventurers in the Blue Moon Alehouse talk about hiring a fisher to ferry them out to explore the Tower of Waiting.
That seems like ages ago, he thought. I wonder what happened to them at the tower.
“No one is on the river,” Kri observed.
Albanon followed the old priest’s gaze out to the water. It was hard to see into the dark past the watchfires on the quay, and he couldn’t make out any sign of boats on the river. He shrugged. “It’s early yet.”
But when they reached the place where Albanon expected to find fishers readying their gear and launching their boats, the water was just as deserted. He did spot a cluster of sun-weathered men and women, mostly humans and halflings, sitting around a table near the water and looking out at the river.
“Pardon me,” he said, hurrying closer to the group. “My friend and I are looking to hire a boat.”
The table erupted in laughter. “Are you mad?” a halfling woman asked. “No one is leaving Hightown.”
“We just need to get to the Tower of Waiting.”
“Is the guard at the Tower of Waiting?” a human man said. “Are they patrolling the river?”
“I don’t understand-”
“The guard is keeping Hightown safe,” the halfling woman said. “Beyond Hightown-that’s where the monsters are.”
Kri huffed impatiently. “Is there anyone here who will ferry us to the tower or not?” he said.
The fishers looked around at each other, then the halfling woman turned back to Kri. “Not,” she said.
“Thank you. Come, Albanon, let us find someone who will.”
“Good luck,” someone called after them. Albanon started to look back, but Kri grabbed his arm and yanked him on.
“We have no time to waste with such impertinent oafs,” the priest said.
“But, Kri, if the fishers aren’t even going out on the river-”
