promise bringing them to rein—“
except for these
. Their deaths belong to this one.”
He forced the images of his prey once more onto what passed for the demons’ minds. The eladrin wizard. The tiefling. The halfling. The dragonborn. Along with the images, he impressed threats of what would happen if he was disobeyed.
The demons went still and he felt their submission. Once again, everything grew quiet. He watched the sun sink, red as the Voidharrow, beyond the walls of Winterhaven.
Albanon took the first of two watches over the night. With the sky clear except for a few swift-moving clouds and the moon rising bright, he could see almost as well as he could during the day. An elf woman of Winterhaven, Ninaran, walked the walls opposite him, and Tempest and Immeral would take the second watch. Two people to see in the dark at any time—most of the villagers remaining in Winterhaven were humans and halflings, dependent on torches and lanterns to get by in the night. If he and the others hadn’t arrived, Thair would have had to pull a second watch duty. Small wonder the dwarf had been happy to see them, Albanon thought.
There were six others on the walls with him and Ninaran. Seven if Splendid, perched in her usual spot around his neck, counted. If anything happened, an alarm would bring the full force of the village charging to the rescue. To Albanon that still seemed like a feeble response to whatever might come knocking in the night. He paused by the gates and peered out into the darkness.
The countryside lay quiet and still, a deceptively peaceful landscape broken by abandoned farmsteads and thick copses of trees. Above it, the night sky went on and on. It was intimidating in its vastness. The scattered cloudsserved only to emphasize how huge and deep it was. Philosophers and sages wondered what mysteries and secret powers lay beyond the multitude of cold, distant stars. Albanon felt like he already knew. The draw to the north was a physical ache inside him. He raised his eyes to the vault of the night.
The eye of Tharizdun looked back at him. The Chained God’s gaze was merciless and heavy, a void that consumed the stars themselves.
Go
, it seemed to command him.
Go now and find what waits for you
.
Albanon squeezed his staff in his hands and clenched his teeth until they hurt. “No,” he snarled. “I go at my own pace by my own will, not by yours!”
Something brushed his cheek, dry and scaly. “Have you fallen asleep?” demanded Splendid’s acid voice. “It’s cold. Keep moving.”
The weight of Tharizdun’s gaze vanished. Albanon opened eyes he didn’t remember closing and took a slow breath. The night was only the night. The stars were only the stars. He forced his cramped hand off his staff and reached up to scratch Splendid under her chin.
She twitched back for a moment before leaning into the scratch. “Ahhh,” she said. “That’s more like it.” The pseudodragon rubbed her body against his neck and shoulder, her scales rubbing almost—but not quite—painfully. “You need to do that more often.”
Albanon chuckled. Splendid loved her simple pleasures. “If you had your way, I would wear my fingers down and you’d want me to keep going.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She wriggled around, stretching her neck out to look at him. “Moorin knew how important it was to stop and relax sometimes.”
His fingers slowed. “Moorin didn’t face what I do, Splendid.”
“Didn’t he? Moorin was a member of the Order of Vigilance, training you to take his place. He was the guardian of the captive Voidharrow, something so secret he didn’t even tell me about it. He still found time to forget his responsibilities and enjoy life.”
“I don’t remember that.”
Splendid snorted and pulled away. “Apprentices never remember the good times. Ungrateful wretches.”
Albanon smiled. “I like you too, Splendid.” She sniffed and turned her head away, but her forepaws kneaded his
except for these
. Their deaths belong to this one.”
He forced the images of his prey once more onto what passed for the demons’ minds. The eladrin wizard. The tiefling. The halfling. The dragonborn. Along with the images, he impressed threats of what would happen if he was disobeyed.
The demons went still and he felt their submission. Once again, everything grew quiet. He watched the sun sink, red as the Voidharrow, beyond the walls of Winterhaven.
Albanon took the first of two watches over the night. With the sky clear except for a few swift-moving clouds and the moon rising bright, he could see almost as well as he could during the day. An elf woman of Winterhaven, Ninaran, walked the walls opposite him, and Tempest and Immeral would take the second watch. Two people to see in the dark at any time—most of the villagers remaining in Winterhaven were humans and halflings, dependent on torches and lanterns to get by in the night. If he and the others hadn’t arrived, Thair would have had to pull a second watch duty. Small wonder the dwarf had been happy to see them, Albanon thought.
There were six others on the walls with him and Ninaran. Seven if Splendid, perched in her usual spot around his neck, counted. If anything happened, an alarm would bring the full force of the village charging to the rescue. To Albanon that still seemed like a feeble response to whatever might come knocking in the night. He paused by the gates and peered out into the darkness.
The countryside lay quiet and still, a deceptively peaceful landscape broken by abandoned farmsteads and thick copses of trees. Above it, the night sky went on and on. It was intimidating in its vastness. The scattered cloudsserved only to emphasize how huge and deep it was. Philosophers and sages wondered what mysteries and secret powers lay beyond the multitude of cold, distant stars. Albanon felt like he already knew. The draw to the north was a physical ache inside him. He raised his eyes to the vault of the night.
The eye of Tharizdun looked back at him. The Chained God’s gaze was merciless and heavy, a void that consumed the stars themselves.
Go
, it seemed to command him.
Go now and find what waits for you
.
Albanon squeezed his staff in his hands and clenched his teeth until they hurt. “No,” he snarled. “I go at my own pace by my own will, not by yours!”
Something brushed his cheek, dry and scaly. “Have you fallen asleep?” demanded Splendid’s acid voice. “It’s cold. Keep moving.”
The weight of Tharizdun’s gaze vanished. Albanon opened eyes he didn’t remember closing and took a slow breath. The night was only the night. The stars were only the stars. He forced his cramped hand off his staff and reached up to scratch Splendid under her chin.
She twitched back for a moment before leaning into the scratch. “Ahhh,” she said. “That’s more like it.” The pseudodragon rubbed her body against his neck and shoulder, her scales rubbing almost—but not quite—painfully. “You need to do that more often.”
Albanon chuckled. Splendid loved her simple pleasures. “If you had your way, I would wear my fingers down and you’d want me to keep going.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She wriggled around, stretching her neck out to look at him. “Moorin knew how important it was to stop and relax sometimes.”
His fingers slowed. “Moorin didn’t face what I do, Splendid.”
“Didn’t he? Moorin was a member of the Order of Vigilance, training you to take his place. He was the guardian of the captive Voidharrow, something so secret he didn’t even tell me about it. He still found time to forget his responsibilities and enjoy life.”
“I don’t remember that.”
Splendid snorted and pulled away. “Apprentices never remember the good times. Ungrateful wretches.”
Albanon smiled. “I like you too, Splendid.” She sniffed and turned her head away, but her forepaws kneaded his
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