"Search quickly," Kimmuriel ordered.
Berg'inyon and Gord Abrix ran off, poking through the smoldering ruins.
"They are not in there," Rai-guy said to his psionicist friend a moment later.
"You agree with Berg'inyon's reasoning?" Kimmuriel asked.
"I hear the call of the Crystal Shard," Rai-guy explained with a snarl, for he did indeed hear the renewed call of the artifact, the prisoner of stubborn Artemis Entreri. "That call comes not from the tavern."
"Then where?" Kimmuriel asked.
Rai-guy could only shake his head in frustration. Where indeed. He heard the pleas, but there was no location attached to them, just an insistent call.
"Bring our henchmen back to us," the wizard instructed, and Kimmuriel went through the doorway, returning a moment later with Berg'inyon, Gord Abrix, and a pair of horribly burned, but still very much alive, wererats.
"Help them," Gord Abrix pleaded, dragging his torched friends to Rai-guy. "This is Poweeno, a close advisor and friend."
Rai-guy closed his eyes and began to chant, and opened his eyes and held his hand out toward the prone and squirming Poweeno. He finished his spell by waggling his fingers and uttering another line of arcane words, and a sharp spark crackled from his fingertips, jolting the unfortunate wererat. The creature cried out and jerked spasmodically, howling in agony as smoking blood and gore began to ooze from its layers of horrible wounds.
A few moments later, Poweeno lay very still, quite dead.
"What… what have you done?" Gord Abrix demanded of Rai-guy, the wizard already into spellcasting once more.
When Rai-guy didn't answer, Gord Abrix made a move toward him, or at least tried to. He found his feet stuck to the floor, as if he was standing in some powerful glue. He glanced about, his gaze settling on Kimmuriel. He recognized from the drow's satisfied expression that it was indeed the psionicist holding him fast in place.
"You failed me," Rai-guy explained opening his eyes and holding one hand out toward the other wounded wererat.
"You just said we performed admirably," Gord Abrix protested.
"That was before I knew that Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri had escaped," Rai-guy explained.
He finished his spell, releasing a tremendous bolt of lightning into the other wounded wererat. The creature flipped over weirdly, then rolling into a fetal position, fast following its companion to the grave.
Gord Abrix howled and drew forth his sword, but Berg'inyon was there, smashing the blade away with his own, fine drow weapon. The warrior looked to his two drow companions. On a nod from Rai-guy, he slashed Gord Abrix across the throat.
The wererat, his feet still stuck fast, sank to the floor, staring helplessly and pleadingly at Rai-guy.
"I do not accept failure," the drow wizard said coldly.
"King Elbereth has sent the word out wide to our scouts," the elf Shayleigh assured Ivan and Pikel when the two dwarven emissaries arrived in Shilmista Forest to the west of the Snowflake Mountains. Cadderly had sent the dwarves straight out to their elf friends, confident that anyone approaching would surely be noticed by King Elbereth's wide network of scouts.
Pikel gave a sound then, which seemed to Ivan to be more one of trepidation than one of hope, though Shayleigh had just given them the assurances they had come here to get.
Or had she?
Ivan Bouldershoulder studied the elf maiden carefully. With her violet eyes and thick golden hair hanging far below her shoulders, she was undeniably beautiful, even to the thinking of a dwarf whose tastes usually ran to shorter, thicker, and more heavily bearded females. There was something else about Shayleigh's posture and attitude, though, about the subtle undertone of her melodious voice.
"Ye're not to kill 'em, ye know," Ivan remarked bluntly.
Shayleigh's posture did not change very much. "You yourself have named them as ultimately dangerous," she replied, "an assassin and a drow."
Ivan noted that the ominous flavor of her voice increased when she named the dark elf, as if the creature's mere race offended her more than the profession of his traveling companion.
"Cadderly's needin' to talk to 'em," Ivan grumbled.
"Can he not speak to the dead?"
"Ooo," said Pikel and he hopped away suddenly, disappearing briefly into the underbrush, and reemerging with one hand behind his back. He hopped up to stand before Shayleigh, a disarming grin on his face. "Drizzit," he reminded, and he pulled his hand around, revealing a delicate flower he had just picked for her.
Shayleigh could hardly hold her stern demeanor against that emotional assault. She smiled and took the wildflower, bringing it to her nose that she could smell its beautiful fragrance. "There is often a flower among the weeds," she said, catching on to Pikel's meaning. "As there may be a druid among a clan of dwarves. That does not mean there are others."
"Hope," said Pikel.
Shayleigh gave a helpless chuckle.
"Ye get yer heart in the right place," Ivan warned, "so says Cadderly, else the Crystal Shard'II find yer heart and twist it to its own needs. It's a big bit o' hope he's puttin' on ye, elf."
Shayleigh's sincere smile was all the assurance he needed.
"Brother Chaunticleer has outlined a grand scheme for keeping the children busy," Danica said to Cadderly. "I will be ready to leave as soon as the artifact arrives."
Cadderly's expression hardly seemed to support that notion.
"You did not think I would let you go visit an ancient dragon without me beside you, did you?" Danica asked, sincerely wounded. Cadderly blew a sigh.
"We've met one before and would have had no trouble at all with it if we had not brought it along with us across the mountains," the woman reminded.
"This time may be more difficult," Cadderly explained. "I will be expending energy merely in controlling the Crystal Shard at the same time I am dealing with the beast. Worse, the artifact will also be speaking to the dragon, I am sure. What better wielder for an instrument of chaos and destruction than a mighty red dragon?"
"How strong is your magic?" Danica asked. "Not that strong, I fear," Cadderly replied. "All the more reason that I, and Ivan and Pikel, must be with you," Danica remarked.
"Without the aid of Deneir, do you give any of us a chance of battling such a wyrm?" the priest asked sincerely. "If Deneir is not with you, you will need us to drag you out of there and quickly," the woman said with a wide smile. "Is that not what your friends are supposed to do?"
Cadderly started to respond, but he really couldn't say much against the look of determination, and of something even more than that-of serenity-stamped across Danica's fair face. Of course she meant to go with him, and he knew he couldn't possibly prevent that unless he left magically and with great deception. Of course, Ivan and Pikel would travel with him as well, though he had to wince when he considered the would-be druid, Pikel, facing a red dragon. They did not want to disturb the great beast any more than to borrow its fiery breath for a single burst of fire. Pikel, so dedicated to the natural, might not be so willing to walk away from a dragon, which was perhaps the greatest perversion of nature in all the world.
Danica cupped her hand under Cadderly's chin then and tilted his head back up so that he was eyeing her directly as she moved very close to him.
"We will finish this and to our satisfaction," she said, and she kissed him gently on the lips. "We have battled worse, my love."
Cadderly didn't begin to deny her words, or her presence, or her determination to go along on this important and dangerous journey. He brought her closer and kissed her again and again.