'Did they find the false phylactery?' the barghest asked.
'Hmmm? Oh, yes, they did.'
Nathifa often said the skull, which she called Espial, spoke to her. Skarm had never heard the obsidian sculpture do so clearly, but he believed it, for sometimes he thought he detected a faint whispering coming from the thing, a sibilant voice muttering darkly in a language he didn't recognize. Like now.
'Did it take them long to find it?' Skarm asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice.
Nathifa finally turned away from the ebon skull to fix Skarm with an irritated glance. 'I didn't remain behind to observe them as they searched. Suffice it to say that your deception fulfilled its purpose.'
Skarm smiled but then grimaced as his burnt lips cracked and began bleeding. 'I thought the cuirass was a nice touch. I hope they weren't too rough with it. We can make use of it again after we… I mean I repair the main entrance.'
'There is no need. Our false lair has done its work.' Nathifa turned away from Skarm to look once more into Espial's empty sockets. At least they were empty to Skarm. Who knew what Nathifa saw in their black depths?
'But that would make you vulnerable, my mistress!' the barghest objected. 'A false phylactery is the perfect way to ensure that your true phylactery is safe!'
What Skarm didn't add was that if they didn't repair the main entrance, they wouldn't have any more visitors, and if they didn't have any visitors, he would be deprived of sustenance. Barghests survived by devouring both the flesh and souls of the living. No entrance, no foolish treasure-seekers. No treasure-seekers, no food for Skarm.
'Your concern for me is touching,' the lich said, her voice dripping sarcasm, 'though I wager your true concern is your perpetually empty belly. You forget the reason I built the false chambers in the first place.'
'Of course I haven't. You built them-' Though I did most of the work, Skarm added mentally-'in order to draw adventurers to you because the skull told you to do so.'
Nathifa reached out and gently stroked the smooth surface of Espial's skull with dead-white fingers. 'Do you remember why Espial so advised?'
Skarm could feel the chamber growing colder: a sure sign that Nathifa was beginning to become irritated with him. 'Because one day a certain man would come, a man bearing a golden dragon's head.' Skarm's eyes widened in realization. 'The old man! He carried such an object!'
Nathifa continued stroking Espial's gleaming black surface. 'Indeed.'
Skarm frowned and winced as the blisters on his brow burst. He wiped away the serum that threatened to drip into his eyes. 'But if the man was here and he had the dragonhead, why didn't you take it from him?'
The temperature took a sudden sharp drop, and Skarm could see his breath mist in the air.
'The old man had companions. I… wished to take their measure before I acted.'
Skarm understood. Nathifa hadn't expected one of those companions to be a priest and such a powerful one at that. She hadn't taken the dragonhead because she couldn't. It seemed that Espial didn't know-or at least didn't tell Nathifa-everything. Skarm would've smiled if he hadn't feared it would anger Nathifa further.
'What do we do now?' he asked.
'We don't do anything. Espial says the old man and his friends are bound for Perhata. You will go there and keep watch on them for me, learn what you can about them, and if the opportunity presents itself for you to take the Amahau-the dragonhead-do it and bring it directly to me.'
Skarm didn't relish the prospect of trekking to Perhata-especially in his current condition. 'I would be most happy to do as you bid, Mistress, but the old man and the others have already seen me. I fear they will recognize me if I attempt to spy on them.'
'They saw you because they were distracted by the orc watching from the western mountainside. I sent you out to lure them in before they could head off to investigate who was tracking them.' She glanced at the barghest. 'And might I add that your performance was clumsy at best.'
Skarm bristled. 'But you must admit it was sufficient to draw them in.'
Nathifa waved Skarm's words away. 'Yes, yes.' She sighed, the sound like winter wind whistling through hollow bone. 'It's not like the orc to venture this close to our domain. Our neighbors on Mount Luster must be up to something. The question is, will it interfere with my plans?'
Skarm smiled, revealing teeth larger and sharper than a goblin should possess. 'If it does, I am certain you will make them regret it, my mistress.'
Nathifa placed her hands on either side of the ebon skull before her, cradling Espial's face in her hands as if it belonged to a loved one, and her dry dead lips slowly stretched into a bloodless smile.
CHAPTER THREE
The four companions-their boots now relatively clean-sat around a small fire, huddled in their heavy cloaks against the cold night air. They ate a supper of tasteless trail rations while they debated whether to make camp for the evening or continue on to Perhata. Since they were no longer searching through the foothills, they could head directly to the city and reach it in a few hours' time. The moons were bright, and though the area was draped in shadows cast by the hills and small mountains all around them, both Ghaji and Hinto would be able to guide the other two with little trouble. Fatigue wasn't an issue, either, for since Diran had dispelled Tresslar's weariness, the older man was fresh and full of energy. Hinto didn't care one way or another, but the way the halfling kept gazing nervously into the darkness, as if he expected some terrible monster to come roaring out of the night, told a different story.
'I'm inclined to make camp,' Diran said, 'if for no other reason than that we haven't located the body of the barghest that Ghaji set aflame. It's possible the foul creature survived, and if so, it would need to feed right away in order to begin healing its injuries. If we remain here in the foothills, there's a good chance the barghest might attack our camp during the night, giving us an opportunity to finish it off.'
Diran waited for the others to react, but no one said anything right away. Hinto kept his gaze cast downward as he nibbled without enthusiasm on a biscuit. Tresslar stared into the fire, his lips pressed together tight as if he were fighting to hold back words. Only Ghaji looked directly at him, and the half-orc was scowling. Of course, a scowl was Ghaji's most common facial expression, but even for him, this was an especially angry one.
Ghaji rose to his feet. 'Before we decide one way or the other, we should check the area to make certain it's a suitable campsite, and by we, I mean you and I, Diran.'
Without waiting for Diran to respond, Ghaji turned and walked away from the fire.
Diran waited a moment before standing. He looked at Tresslar and Hinto and said, 'We'll be back soon.'
Neither of them responded, and they still pointedly avoided meeting the priest's gaze. Something was obviously wrong, but Diran had no idea what it might be. He followed after Ghaji, who by now was only a silhouette in the darkness. Diran caught up with his friend, but Ghaji continued apace, saying nothing. He just kept walking. Diran fell into step beside the half-orc, knowing that his friend would speak when he was ready and not before.
When they had walked far enough that the campfire seemed but a candle flame on the horizon, Ghaji stopped and turned to Diran.
'You're driving them too hard, Diran. Tresslar and Hinto… especially Hinto.'
Diran frowned. 'What do you mean? We took periodic rest breaks throughout the day, and when Tresslar grew too weary, I restored his strength.'
'I'm not talking about today, at least, not just about it. You've always been dedicated to combating evil, but ever since Grimwall, you've become almost obsessed with it. In these last few months, I think we've slain more undead creatures and fought more than in all the time I traveled with you before we battled Erdis Cai. I'm not complaining, mind you. Who likes a good fight more than me? But the constant traveling and ceaseless slaying have taken a toll on Tresslar and Hinto. It's affected the halfling even more than the artificer. At least Tresslar was an adventurer in his youth, but as you've pointed out to me on more than one occasion, Hinto was mentally scarred by his time shipwrecked in the Mire, and he's traveled with us ever since. He's had no time to rest and recover from his ordeal-how can he when we're always racing to kill one monster after another?'
Diran felt anger rising within him, and he struggled to keep an even tone as he replied. 'Neither Tresslar nor Hinto has been forced to accompany us. They've done so of their own free will.'
