And cried out as the monsters tad struck him hard on his shieldless side. The pain was incredible. It was as if thousands of needles penetrated his skin and were simultaneously making their way through his veins toward his heart. He felt as if his blood had turned to ice and his stomach churned with a familiar sensation—fear.
Kaerion cried out again as the walls of the inn melted away and he found himself surrounded by walls of solid stone—white stone, carved and worked like the walls of a temple. He knew this place, and the knowledge caused him to choke with panic. This was the scene of his disgrace.
“No!” he shouted in defiance, and the stone walls disappeared.
Kaerion lay on the ground, curled up in a ball. Around him, he could see Majandra and Vaxor attacking the barbed beast, keeping it distracted, unable to concentrate on killing its fallen victim. Three more arrows thudded into the monster, one catching it in its baleful red eye, and at last it gave ground.
Kaerion rolled to his feet. Anger had replaced the fear that had chilled him, and he let out a bellow as he rushed in. The beast struck out with its barbed tad, but he managed to deflect the blow with his shield. The shock of that contact nearly broke his forearm, but he kept pressing forward. Twice he landed blows that would have felled a bugbear, but the monster just shrugged them off. The third time, Kaerion blocked the creature’s razor claw with his own blade and then spun, slicing out with his sword as he turned with his hips.
The steel bit deeply into the creatures throat and it let out a shocked gurgle. A small trickle of steaming black blood fell on to the blade, and then the wound closed, pushing the blade out.
Kaerion shouted in frustration. He backed away, letting Vaxor and Majandra keep the creature busy. Another two arrows buzzed angrily as they struck the creature, this time in the chest. Their enemy let out a roar and swept his tail before him, knocking Majandra and Vaxor out of the way. Quickly, the beast turned and faced Gerwyth. It pointed the wicked curve of a single claw at the elf archer and spoke a single, horrific word. A green bolt of energy shot out from the beast’s claw. Kaerion saw the elf try to roll out of the way, but it was too late. A green bubble of energy coalesced around the ranger, freezing him in place.
“Here, take this!” Majandra shouted at him and threw her own blade at Kaerion. “I have to help Vaxor.” She indicated the fallen cleric, who was struggling to rise.
Kaerion reached down and took the blade, catching a glimpse of a silvery glow before he was forced to dodge another barbed claw.
Time seemed to slow as Kaerion met the creature’s blows with sword and shield, his world reduced to the ring and clash of steel on barbed flesh. It wasn’t until the creature launched forward with both claws that he saw his opening. Ducking under the beast’s attack, Kaerion let his momentum carry him forward and slightly left of the creature. With a curse, he spun and brought his sword down hard on the meaty expanse of tail.
The beast recoiled as the mystic blade severed the section of tail. Kaerion tried to take advantage of the beast’s vulnerability, but his sword had bitten too deeply into the wood of the inn’s floor. He could not raise it up.
It only took a moment for the barbed monster to recover, and Kaerion found himself hastily raising his shield. One of the creature’s clawed hands struck him hard on the shoulder, laying open muscle and sinew. The other batted away his shield and then lashed out, catching him directly in the chest.
Numbed by loss of blood and fatigue, he could not muster the strength to free himself. The creature chuckled low in its throat as it brought Kaerion inexorably closer to its spiked chest. Once impaled, the fighter knew that he wouldn’t survive long.
Just then, he heard Vaxor’s voice, deep and intense, chanting over the sounds of combat and the cries of the frightened crowd. A circle of white light formed behind the creature, a circle whose intensity grew by the moment. The beast must have noticed it, for it stopped trying to pull Kaerion closer and turned to look.
The circle burned brilliantly now, like a miniature sun. With a high-pitched squeal, the monster threw Kaerion to the ground and fled.
Kaerion cast about the room and saw Vaxor, bloodied and bruised, holding a section of the beast’s severed tail above his head with one hand. The other traced holy sigils in the air, glyphs that remained visible, burning with unearthly potence in the panicked atmosphere of the inn.
Suddenly, the circle of light spun open, like the iris of a human eye. Power flooded into the room, white-hot and palpable. Kaerion nearly wept at the familiar presence. Vaxor had called upon the power of Heironeous, and the god answered, filling the room with a fragment of his puissance.
Without thinking, Kaerion fell to his knees. Never in the time since his betrayal had he placed himself so close to the power of the god he had once served. The presence was like a knife that cut open a half-healed wound, and Kaerion ached with the sense of loss that swept through him.
The creature, on the other hand, screamed in agony as tendrils of energy reached from the circle, pulling the creature toward its opening. It struggled vainly against the god-wrought force, and Kaerion watched in fascination as the monster fell into the opening and disappeared with a final, high-pitched wail.
The pulsating circle remained open a few more moments. A sound like thunder filled the room, causing those members of the crowd who were still alive to dive on the floor with their heads covered. Kaerion cast a glance at Vaxor and knew, by the look of complete devotion that crossed the priest’s face, that the phenomenon had nothing to do with the activities of a normal thundercloud. It was clear that Heironeous had spoken—words that only the faithful could hear.
The circle irised closed and then disappeared, plunging the room into stunned silence. Kaerion watched as Vaxor fell to his knees, whether from his wounds or from some movement of faith Kaerion could not be sure. Panting, he picked up Majandra’s sword and moved toward Gerwyth, who still stood frozen at the stairs landing.
Before he could offer any assistance, an explosion from somewhere upstairs caused the already damaged building to buckle. Kaerion spun around and saw Majandra helping the priest to his feet. She looked back at him, eyes wide. “Phathas!” she shouted. “He’s still upstairs!”
“Vaxor, see to Gerwyth. Majandra and I will head up to the suite. Follow as soon as you can.”
In the heat of battle, Kaerion’s voice had assumed a ring of command, carrying easily over the worried shouts and murmurings of the crowd In his haste to aid the old mage, he did not see Vaxor’s raised eyebrow before the cleric moved toward the frozen elf.
Turning, Kaerion launched himself up the carpeted stairs, conscious of Majandra’s worried breathing behind him. A few moments later, they plunged through the doorway of their suite and into the heart of chaos. Tables and chairs lay smashed or overturned in various parts of the rooms, and several tapestries were pulled from their hangings. One entire wall of the suite had disappeared, replaced by a flaming wreck of blackened wood and cinders. A chill wind blew threw the room, stirring ash and fanning small flames that flickered across the carpet and licked at the wood ceiling.
Phathas leaned feebly against the frame of a door, surrounded by a nimbus of red light. Three figures closed him in, each hacking at him with short swords that gleamed in the mystic light. The swords rebounded harmlessly every time they struck the red glow, but Kaerion could clearly see that the mage was weakening. One gnarled hand gripped a silver-shod brown staff, while the other supported the mage’s weight against the frame.