of evil dragons.
“Worship me, dragonborn,” all five heads said in unison. “I am also of the blood of Io.”
Bahamut and Tiamat were two sides of the same coin, in dragonborn thinking. Both gods had arisen from the corpse of the first dragon god, Io, when he was slain by the Lord of Chaos in the Dawn War. But they embodied opposite extremes of Io’s philosophy, and dragonborn believed that they all had a choice to make in life between the path of Io and the path of Tiamat.
Doubt gnawed at Roghar’s heart, a doubt he’d never previously admitted or acknowledged. Did I choose the right path? he wondered, putting the doubt into words for the first time.
The dragon-god roared, five earth-shaking bellows of pain and fury, and Roghar saw Uldane’s dagger stuck into the back of the demon as it turned. Tiamat was gone, and Uldane had taken advantage of the demon’s distraction to deal what might have been a mortal blow, but the demon was reaching out to retaliate. Light flashed around Roghar and he lashed out with his blade. The demon’s horned head toppled from its shoulders and its body began to dissolve into shadow and red liquid.
Roghar glanced around. The girl had accomplished her mission perfectly, and the two people he’d retrieved from the room were awake, looking around with terror as they huddled with the others. At the end of the hall, Tempest was wrapped in the coils of the other demon’s tendrils, her body limp in its grasp.
“No!” he roared, pushing his way past the bystanders to reach her.
Just as he came to her side, an explosive blast of lightning engulfed the demon, and Tempest’s body with it, roaring with thunder that knocked him back into the knot of people behind him. The demon released its grip on her as it staggered backward, too, and Tempest fell on her face onto the floor.
Roghar pulled himself up and free of the bystanders, and Tempest managed to lift herself to her hands and knees. The demon surged toward her again, but she lifted one hand and spat what sounded like an infernal curse at it. Flames spilled out from her outstretched fingers and over the demon. Roghar stepped up as it reeled back and plunged his sword into its chest.
As the demon’s form dissolved, he bent beside Tempest and lifted her to her feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She shook her head and didn’t meet his eyes.
“They use our fear as a weapon,” he said.
Tempest looked at him, fear still haunting her eyes. “Roghar, what if the drow is right?”
“About what?”
“About me and my power,” she said. “It’s true that I’m dealing with forces I don’t really understand.”
“But you’re using your power for good.”
“Are you sure?” Tempest looked away before he could answer. “It doesn’t always feel that way.”
“Destroying demons? Of course that’s a good purpose.”
“Ultimately, yes. But in the moment, it just felt like destruction. Self-preservation, perhaps, but there’s nothing noble about that.”
“Tempest, you can’t-”
“Roghar!” Uldane shouted. “The inn is burning!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Albanon rowed the boat back toward the quays as Kri manned the rudder, keeping his eyes fixed on a plume of smoke rising up from a building just beyond the north end of the quays. Glancing over his shoulder as they drew nearer, Albanon guessed it was the Silver Unicorn Inn in flames.
“We’ll find Nu Alin where the demons are attacking,” Kri said.
Ninety-seven full strokes of the oars brought the little boat to the quays. Albanon frowned at the prime number. He started toying with multiples of it, poked at its square and cube, and found his mind filling with formulas again.
“Albanon!” Kri barked. “Pay attention!”
Fire shot out from Albanon’s fingers and caught in the rope he’d been using to tie up the boat. He swatted out the flames and counted thirteen hemp fibers reduced to glowing embers. Another prime.
He finished tying up the boat and clambered onto the dock after Kri. Together they hurried toward the column of smoke. Thirty-eight steps-twice nineteen-brought him into the thick of the terror around the Silver Unicorn. Demons like the ones they had fought at the Tower of Waiting haunted the streets outside the inn, catching lone bystanders and feasting on their fear. Animate forms of living fire stalked around the burning inn as well, setting fires in buildings and townsfolk alike.
Thirteen, thirty-eight, ninety-seven … calculations danced through Albanon’s mind. Settling on the formula he wanted, he reached a hand toward one of the burning demons and snuffed out its fire. He saw a suggestion of a shape remaining when the fire was gone, then something like a red crystal skull fell to the floor. Eight seconds after he extinguished the flame, the demon was gone without a trace.
“Impressive,” Kri said. “But we are looking for Nu Alin.”
Eight words, Albanon thought. Eight seconds for the demon to die. An unlikely coincidence.
“There he is!” Kri said, pointing to a broad, strong-looking man who walked without fear among the demons.
“Don’t kill him! Not yet.”
Eight words again, Albanon thought.
Kri hurried toward the man, whose face was hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. “Albric!” he called.
Nu Alin stopped and lowered his hood.
Albanon stared. The body was completely different, but the eyes were the same-the eyes of the halfling creature that had clung to Tempest’s back, digging its fingers into her throat while demanding that Albanon activate the teleportation circle in Kalton Manor. The same creature that had killed Moorin.
“Albric has been dead for a long time,” Nu Alin said slowly.
Eight words.
“Not completely,” Kri said. “His will yet survives in you.”
“He is gone and long forgotten, old fool.”
“The Chained God commands you! Finish your task!”
“I have come with a different purpose now.”
Eight eights, Albanon thought.
As Kri was about to speak again, someone barreled out of the inn, a red-haired woman with a greatsword. Her name bubbled slowly to the surface of Albanon’s thoughts, and he mouthed it to himself.
She launched herself at the nearest demon, one of the shadowy nightmare creatures, and hacked into it with her massive sword. The drow who had come with them from the Temple of Yellow Skulls came out of the inn after her, his eldritch blade burning in his hand. He leaped at the same demon, and together they made quick work of it, apparently undaunted by the nightmares it induced.
“Albanon?” Shara cried.
“Albanon,” Nu Alin said, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. “I remember you. You sent me and your tiefling friend into the Labyrinth after I killed the old wizard.”
Anger welled in Albanon’s chest, but he tried to keep his face a mask. As long as Kri believed that his mind and will were shattered, he would not have to fight the priest. He wasn’t ready.
“His mind has been broken by the Chained God’s touch,” Kri said. “He will not remember.”
But I do remember, he thought. I remember everything, Kri.
“Too bad,” Nu Alin said. “Do you suppose he remembers finding the wizard in his tower? It was a work of art, what I did to him. A masterpiece.”
He’s trying to provoke me, Albanon thought.
“Albanon, what are you doing?” Shara called. “We could use your help here! Roghar, Tempest, and Uldane are still inside!”
