of soldiers were fighting one of the nightmare demons. The cloak draped over the body matched what Nu Alin had been wearing.
“There!” he shouted, pointing at the body. “He’s down!”
“I see the corpse,” Tempest called back, “but where’s the demon?”
Oh, no, he thought. He could be anywhere-sliding like a serpent unseen in the chaos, or inhabiting any of these bodies, friend or foe.
He was sure the same thought was haunting Tempest, as her wide eyes darted around to every soldier and demon nearby. She tried to keep a wide circle around her free of any potential threat, even pushing a soldier who stumbled too close, sending him dangerously close to a demon’s fiery claws.
Roghar roared and launched a fierce assault on the fire demons that kept him pinned down. His sword erupted in light and sliced into the crystal heart of one demon as his shield forced the other one back, knocking it off balance. Uldane took advantage of the demon’s moment of imbalance and drove his dagger into its skull, and both demons died at once, their flames extinguished.
“He’s going to come after Tempest,” Roghar said. “We have to keep him away from her.”
“He might try taking one of us,” Uldane said. “Even if it’s just to get closer to her.”
Roghar fixed Uldane with a steady stare. “He hasn’t taken you already, has he?” He searched the halfling’s face and eyes for any sign of the red crystal, but Uldane’s face broke into a broad grin that was unmistakably his.
“It’s creepy, isn’t it?” the halfling said. “He could be anywhere, anyone.”
“Yes. Now keep her safe.” Roghar started toward Tempest. “We’re coming to help you,” he called to her, keeping his sword low.
“Stay back!” she shouted.
“Tempest, it’s us. We’re safe.”
“I don’t know that. You can’t prove it.”
A soldier, a woman who had fallen into the role of one of Roghar’s lieutenants, approached Tempest from behind, her eyes fixed warily on Roghar. Roghar tried to remember her name-Beven? Beren?
Belen, he decided.
“The demon has him,” Belen said to Tempest. “Strike him down, quickly!”
Tempest spun to face her, backing away without getting too close to Roghar. “Stay back, all of you!”
Belen’s eyes widened and she pointed at Roghar. “Behind you!” she screamed.
Tempest wasn’t fooled. She glanced at Roghar without turning away from Belen, but even that momentary distraction was all the opening Nu Alin needed. In Belen’s body, he leaped into the air and came down on top of Tempest, smashing her to the ground. Belen’s fingers scrabbled at Tempest’s neck.
Together, Roghar and Uldane rushed to Tempest’s side. Roghar planted a kick in Belen’s gut that sent her sprawling, though her fingers left a long gash in Tempest’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound as Tempest cried out in pain and fear.
Nu Alin was unfazed by the blow, making a rasping sound that might have been laughter as he lifted Belen’s body to its feet. “It’s fascinating,” he said in an approximation of Belen’s voice. “She’s so furious with you, Roghar. She followed you, trusted you, believed that you would keep her safe. You failed, and now you’re ready to kill her in order to get to me. She feels so betrayed.”
Uldane stood near Nu Alin, a dagger in each hand, looking for an opening. Keeping his eyes on the demon, Roghar fell to one knee beside Tempest and muttered a prayer, closing the wound in her neck.
“Does it matter to you what body I wear?” Nu Alin said. “It appears that it does. None of you knew the farmer whose body I just abandoned, and you thought nothing of lighting it aflame to drive me out. But when I took Tempest”-he looked at her with something that might have been hunger in his eyes-”you couldn’t bring yourself to attack. Are you torn, now? Was this Belen someone you cared enough about that you’ll hesitate again? She certainly hopes so.”
“She would rather die than live as a prisoner in her own body,” Tempest said, getting to her feet.
“True,” Nu Alin said, “but she’s desperately clinging to the hope that you can free her without killing her. She has such
Roghar and Tempest spread out so that they and Uldane more or less surrounded Nu Alin. Roghar knew they were fooling themselves-if the demon wanted to, it could escape with ease through one of the gaps between them, or even jump right over the halfling’s head to get out of their grasp. It certainly didn’t seem to feel threatened as they closed in around it.
But he had to admit that the demon’s words were giving him pause. What right did he have to hurt or kill Belen, just because she’d fallen prey to the demon? He had a responsibility to her, to free her if he could.
“Look at you,” Nu Alin said, turning in a slow circle. “You didn’t hesitate for a moment when I wore the flesh of that farmer. You set me aflame, burned the flesh from my bones. Did he offend you? Or was it something I said? Will you kill poor Belen if I start describing how eager I am to taste Tempest again? It’s strange, actually-I’ve never felt this way about a host before. Usually I wear them out and discard them. But I feel as though I’ve been deprived of a particular pleasure because I didn’t have the opportunity to really use you up.” Belen’s face leered at Tempest with an almost lascivious grin.
That was more provocation than Tempest could stand. “You never will,” she snarled. “And you’ll never do that to another host.
Wind sprang up around Nu Alin, engulfing him in a whirlwind that lifted Belen’s body from the ground. Dust and debris rose up in a cone, and eerie lights shone all around him, weaving into a prison of light and wind that held him fast.
“What is that?” Roghar said.
Tempest shot him a wolfish grin. “I believe Quarhaun would refer to it as the seventh invocation of Hadar,” she said. “It’s worse than it looks.”
Belen’s body writhed helplessly in the whirlwind for a moment, then her back arched in what seemed like horrible agony.
“But Belen-” Roghar said.
“Don’t worry about her,” Tempest spat.
“I have to worry about her. I led her into this.”
“Tempest!” a voice called from somewhere nearby. It was familiar, but Roghar couldn’t quite place it.
Tempest didn’t turn toward the voice. Her eyes were fixed on Belen’s body, one hand outstretched to keep the whirlwind in motion.
A man broke from the mass of warring demons and soldiers and ran toward them. Roghar shifted so he stood between Tempest and the onrushing man, then he recognized Albanon and the pseudodragon perched on his shoulder.
“Stay back, elf,” he growled.
Albanon stopped in his tracks, and the smile fell from his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Shara said you were talking to the demon, that you let it escape.”
Albanon’s brow furrowed and he looked down. “I … I don’t remember,” he said, meeting Roghar’s gaze again. “Listen, Roghar, a lot has happened. But I’m the one who brought a fey hunt to kill all these demons.”
Roghar looked behind Albanon and noticed for the first time that the battle was clearly going against the demons. Hounds were barking and yowling, and he saw several green-eyed, flame-tongued beasts in canine form biting and tearing at demons. Eladrin warriors cloaked in starlight fought alongside the Fallcrest militia who had followed him, and Roghar could clearly see the hope written on the faces of his soldiers. Against all odds, this battle was looking like a victory.
Perhaps I haven’t failed them after all, he thought.
Albanon was staring slack-jawed at something to his left, and Roghar followed his gaze to where Belen’s body still hung suspended in the whirlwind. Her mouth was stretched open in a silent scream, and a long, snaky tendril of shimmering red liquid was emerging slowly from her throat. The eldritch lights of the windstorm shone brightest around that tendril-around Nu Alin as Tempest’s magic extracted him from Belen’s body. Roghar could see the lights searing Nu Alin’s substance. A black crust of ash constantly formed and reformed across the liquid surface, each layer blowing away in the wind before being replaced by the next.
