Circle of Skulls

FIVE

NIGHTAL 20, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)

Quessahn flinched as flames licked above her head, cinders popping around her as she knelt over the rorden's body. She traced the sigils carved in his chest one by one, noting the depth and preciseness of the cuts. She fought her natural instinct to look away, to flee the encroaching fire, her breaths coming short and quick as she tried to ignore the blood on her hands and the pale bone showing just beneath the edges of Allek's wounds. Lost in the puzzle of arcane runes and trying to remain calm, she almost missed the rorden's hand.

It had fallen across the human's stomach, seemingly normal, until she noted the dark spot of one knuckle. Leaning closer, she found the left ring finger neatly severed and wondered at the mutilation, some obscure bit of her studies attempting to surface in her thoughts. At a loud crack, she abandoned the body and her curiosity as a section of the ceiling fell onto the stairs. She threw herself backward, landing awkwardly near the bottom of the steps and scrambling back on her hands to escape the flames, which glittered in the fallen human's blank eyes.

She shuddered and ran for the common room, ducking low instinctively as sections of the ceiling bowed, slivers of orange light shining through the cracks. A lungful of smoke set her to coughing as she fell through the front door, landing on her hands and knees. Strong arms pulled her away from the burning tavern. Buckets of water sloshed by as she rubbed the redness from her eyes, steam hissing as several volunteers attempted to douse the flames.

Pushing her way through the crowd of gawkers that had gathered to witness the spectacle, she pulled a small, bound book from her belt and quickly began to draw what she had seen before memory had any chance to fail her. Smudges of blood and ash accompanied each drawing, her hands shivering in the cold as she fought to reproduce the intricate patterns of the symbols. She slipped to the back of the crowd, observing her work and nodding in satisfaction.

Must compare these to the others, she thought.

"More water!"

Quessahn flinched at the shout, recognizing the voice of Swordcaptain Dregg and drawing back farther from the crowd, pulling up her hood to conceal her elf features. She'd dealt with Dregg on more than one occasion and had no desire to encounter the foul man again. Studying figures outlined by the flames, she noticed quite a few of the Watch surrounding the tavern, not the least of which was Dregg himself, pacing with his fists planted on his hips, a swagger in his self-important step that made Quessahn want to vomit.

She angled herself closer, watching for Jinn to come stumbling out of the smoke, but after several breaths, the flames just grew higher, defying her hopes and the buckets of water being splashed through the windows. A young officer approached Dregg with a worried expression, and Quessahn leaned forward, trying to listen.

"Swordcaptain, several in the crowd say that Rorden Allek Marson was inside and has not escaped," the Watchman reported. "Maybe we should attempt to take one last look-"

"Nonsense," Dregg cut him off. "We've already sent one man in; the good rorden is dead. However, we do have reports of a suspect, the rorden's companion, a man by the name of Jinnaoth."

Quessahn's eyes widened at his words. She'd seen no one else inside, though the smoke had admittedly been thick, and she reasoned it would make Dregg only too happy if Jinn had murdered Rorden Allek. The swordcaptain would take great pleasure in hunting down an "undesirable" through the city streets.

"Find a runner," Dregg continued. "Have him inform the other patrols of the deva; consider him well-armed and hostile."

"Yes, Swordcaptain," the officer replied, turning to go. He was stopped by Dregg's hand on his arm.

"Acting Rorden, Officer, at least until Lord Neverember makes it official," he said with a slight grin. "This investigation is mine now."

The young officer seemed confused for a moment but nodded and left to follow Dregg's orders. Quessahn cursed and slipped away from the light of the fire. The Watch had protocols and procedures for rank promotions, procedures that should have weeded out dangerous men such as Lucian Dregg, but if Lord Neverember had paved Dregg's path through the ranks… Allek's investigation had been in secret. Dregg could maintain total control for several days before the Watch commanders could reassess the situation.

Plenty of time for much damage to be done, she thought. I've got to find Jinn, and quick.

She studied the burning tavern, her eyes settling upon the edge of the angled roof and following it around, past the crowd, to a darkened alley. A woman stood at the edge of the alley, eyeing the Watch and the crowd but suspiciously ignoring the burning tavern. Quessahn skirted behind the gathering, trying to appear casual as she studied the dark-haired woman and the unlit alley.

Common spells slid comfortably to the forefront of her thoughts, arranging themselves like familiar constellations in her mind. Others, darker spells that slithered comfortably in the recesses of her memory, she held in reserve, just in case. The dark-haired woman casually stepped into the alley, disappearing in the shadows.

Taking a deep breath, Quessahn followed.

Jinn pulled his hand away from the stolen blade, a breath of clarity leaving him a bit dazed as he stared up into the black eyes of Sathariel. He sensed some hitherto unknown enchantment in the weapon, something trying to force his hand when he had his own pool of hatred to draw from when dealing with the angel. Study of the sword could wait. He couldn't reach Sathariel, not fast enough at any rate, and refused to amuse his enemy by attempting to do so.

"You're lost in this, deva," Sathariel said, scanning his black eyes across the city. "Out of your depth, a relic of wars long over and meaningless."

"I found you," Jinn replied. "And the wars never ended."

"Mulhorand's gods are lost. They left you here, stuck in that mortal body," the angel said. "And here you are, scrambling for purpose, fighting for fleeting glories in mortal causes that serve only to feed your arrogance. Variel was right about you…"

Jinn's fists clenched at the sound of her name from the beast that had taken her away from him. For a breath he considered the height of the nearest wall, the street lantern hook above, the window ledge above that, but fought the impulse down. He was certain he would battle the angel on even terms soon enough and would not be goaded into making himself vulnerable.

"She said you would never quit, never stop long enough to see the lives you might have spent together. She knew that my destruction would mean nothing," Sathariel said, rising and spreading wide his black wings. "You cannot stop what is to come, Jinnaoth. You should have left this city when Variel asked you to."

Cold wind gusted through the alley as Sathariel ascended into the night, one shadow among many in the rolling clouds, leaving Jinn to stare for what seemed forever, hand once again on the blade stolen from the Vigilant Order. He recalled the scent of Variel's hair resting on his shoulder, the look in her silver eyes as she'd pleaded for him to abandon Waterdeep, a city not yet named when they had been already quite old. He wondered, as he always did, if he would have answered her differently if he had the chance to do it all over again.

"One of yours?"

Mara's voice pulled him away from reverie, and he turned to the body of the young woman in the alley. Mara knelt over the girl, sniffing the air and tracing the twisting angle of a lifeless arm.

"No," he answered as the hag whispered harshly over the corpse, eyes burning red as she cupped her hands close to the girl's lips. "She was possessed by something."

"Useless!" Mara growled, recoiling from the body and shaking the red dust of a crushed gem from her hands. "The soul is like ash, burned away to nothing." "Jinn!" Quessahn arrived, circling round the scowling Mara, hands almost glowing with arcane threat. "The Watch is looking for you; Dregg is in charge."

"That didn't take long," he muttered, placing a calming hand on her shoulder and nodding to Mara. "We'll need to be quick, then. Distraction?"

"How far?" Mara asked, old strategies already in motion.

"Slow down! Who is this?" Quessahn asked, shoving his hand away and eyeing the body between them. "What in the Abyss is happening here?"

"Pharra's Alley," Jinn replied, ignoring the eladrin's confusion. "And take Quessahn with you."

"If you insist," Mara said, staring her up and down disapprovingly.

"Jinn, what's going on?" Quessahn pressed, narrowing her eyes.

"No time," he said. "Just follow Mara's lead. We'll meet up later."

He didn't wait for her response, turning the east corner. He half hoped she might just leave her findings about the sigils with Maranyuss and abandon him for her studies at the House of Wonder, but he knew her stubbornness would keep her around a while longer.

Sliding along the wall, he peered around the corner at a slowly dispersing crowd bathed in orange light. The Watchmen present seemed focused on maintaining a perimeter as the bucket line did what it could to quench the fire. A handful of the Watchful Order had arrived, producing spells of water to douse the hottest of the flames.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Jinn sprinted across the street, keeping to the shadows of back alleys and smaller roads. He didn't know what he might find at Pharra's Alley, but he needed a chance to look closer, to find the circle of skulls.

Halfway to Ivory Street, he paused, seeing the bobbing light of a Watch patrol coming toward him. Cursing, he turned back, entering a winding series of alleys behind the shops and homes of the Street of Glances. The dark was more pervasive there, with lanterns spaced at wider intervals. In any other part of the city, it might have been considered a place to avoid after evenpeal. As it was, in Sea Ward, the dangers were less random and brutal than specific and well planned. Good coin was spent to keep certain elements out of the ward, and for the most part, the Watch was quite successful.

Shadows shifted in Jinn's wake, shuffling footsteps barely heard over the low whistle of wind that carried through the alleys. No one approached or made himself known, but Jinn slowed down all the same, walking the center of the alley like a tightrope, blade low and ready at his side. Stalkers at one's back usually indicated an attack from the front as a chosen mark was herded toward a place where brigands could conduct their business undisturbed. As Jinn made out the dim silhouettes of bodies pressed against walls and hiding in doorways ahead of him, he prepared to give whomever it was more of a disturbance than they were likely expecting.

First one then two shuffled into view, figures covered in cloaks and tattered robes. Scraggly hair haloed darkened faces in the lantern light. Jinn stopped, glancing sidelong at the stretch of alley behind him as more figures gathered in front of him.

Curiously they stood in the light, fully visible, their eyes fixed on him, their faces expressionless. It was as though a gang of the homeless and destitute threatened him, a stale smell like dried sewage drifting toward him on the wind. Edging forward, he squinted, picking out details that raised the hairs on his neck and further deepened the mystery he found himself in.

Several bore faded red symbols on the left sleeves of once priestly robes, and many produced short, curved daggers, always wielded in the left hand. Their faces were unfamiliar-he'd rarely taken note of those who ran from his sword-but their allegiance to the Vigilant Order and Asmodeus was unmistakable. Their bright eyes regarded him without emotion, slack jawed and drooling into their tangled beards as they shuffled toward him, only the barest hint of life still shining in what was left of their minds.

"Ahimazzi," Jinn muttered, recognizing those punished by Asmodeus, their souls taken until they could make amends for failing in the devil-god's service. More than a dozen of them stood out from the shadows, lurching toward him, and by what he could hear, at least that many approached from behind. "No time for this."

He bolted forward, blade drawn and angling toward their left flank. The ahimazzi managed little more than faint moans as they slashed their rusted blades at him. He parried their clumsy stabs and thrusts, steel ringing loudly in the alley as he sought to slip through their numbers. He winced at the sound, fearful of drawing a Watch patrol to the alley. A dirty hand gripped his cloak, and he spun, kicking an unarmed woman out of his path as he swung his potential captor off balance. Once free, he blocked another dagger to the cobbles and tumbled into three of the stinking men, tripping one and punching another, though the third opened a burning cut on his arm.

On instinct he angled his sword to thrust through the man's chest but twisted the force of the strike into the blade's pommel, driving it into the ahirnazzi's face. Teeth clattered to the ground as Jinn escaped to the end of the alley, casting a glance over his shoulder at the shocking number of the soulless who had gathered to spill his blood.

"So many," he whispered in astonishment. "All here in one place."

They shuffled after him, their eerie silence making it seem as though a graveyard had given up its dead to roam the streets of Waterdeep. A faint green glow reflected off of shop windows down Ivory Street, signaling the arrival of yet another Watch patrol. Swearing, he looked between the two groups and carefully plucked a small pouch from his belt. The smell of the ahimazzi grew closer as he watched the patrol make its way toward him from the east, judging the distance and muttering a swift prayer as he timed his strike.

As the soulless neared, within a few strides and wheezing, Jinn charged into the street, hurling the pouch into the Watchman's lantern. It burst into a puff of acrid, black powder, killing the light as surprised shouts echoed at his back. He dived into the shadows of a garden outside the walls of a large mansion, ducking alongside bushes as he ran from tree to tree. The Watch quickly lost interest in him as the ahimazzi stumbled into the street. Jinn pressed on as the two groups met, the officers' signal horns calling for reinforcements as he slipped across Flint Street and approached Pharra's Alley from the north.

Catching his breath, he entered the alley from its middle, at the edge of a street lantern's light, and noted the unlit lantern near the House of Wonder. He reckoned spreading rumors had kept the lamplighters from their duty in the supposedly haunted alley and was grateful for the dark, though he could see little of the famed place where the skulls were said to appear. Panting, he knelt down, feeling foolish as he tended to the stinging wound on his arm. The cobbles were cold and lifeless, as they'd been before, though each small clue seemed to draw him back to the place.

"Bogeymen," he whispered, wincing as he tried to clean the wound without water and fearing infection. "What in all the Hells did I expect to find?"

He leaned to his right, his hand, still sticky with Allek's blood, pressed to the cold ground. The brief contact jolted his arm, ripples of pain radiating up to his shoulder as the ground trembled beneath him. He fell back against the wall, sword half drawn and eyes wide as a nimbus of green energy swirled through the alley. It rose from the ground, spinning and flaring with flashes of emerald light. The smell of burning blood stung his nose, his rust-colored handprint sizzling where he had touched the ground.

Nine small spheres distinguished themselves in the circle, forming swiftly, their shapes unmistakable as the circle's flames fragmented, gathering around the skulls in fiery auras. He had seen flameskulls before, undead creatures created as guardians, covered in runes carved into them by their makers, but the nine skulls that turned to face him were smooth and unmarked as if newly torn from their missing bodies.

It appeared as though the circle of skulls had no maker.

"The deva is persistent," one said, its deep, gravelly voice radiating with a power that caused Jinn's head to ache.

"Good," another replied. "He is useless to us otherwise."

Jinn backed away, slowly drawing his sword, wide eyed and waiting for some ancient memory, an insight from his old soul to come rushing forth and advise him as to what he should do. There was something there, hiding in his mind-a sense of familiarity that resisted his attempts at recollection, like a whispered rumor from his soul. The skulls floated closer, though they did not stray far from the gates of the House of

Wonder.

"We cannot trust him," yet another spoke, a high, shrieking voice that set Jinn's nerves on edge. "We must kill him now!"

Their green flames roared higher as they turned on one another, arguing in a harsh language that crawled across Jinn's flesh like ants, but in the midst of it all, he heard them plainly. The sound of their arguing, nine voices shouting in unison, flames of green energy flaring from their eyes and between their teeth.

"The killers," he whispered. "These are Allek's murderers."

"You see!" The high-pitched one turned on him, shrieking. "He knows too much already! Kill him now!"

The skull's grinning mouth opened wide, issuing forth jets of emerald flame.

Quessahn eyed Mara suspiciously as they exited the alley opposite the direction Jinn had taken. She cursed the deva's mystery despite realizing his need to escape the Watch and exit the scene of the grisly crime. Plumes of smoke rose in twisting towers above the tavern, the flames under control, though the Storm's Front was certainly lost. The smoke gathered in dark clouds, joining those already blocking the stars from her view. She felt cut off from the sky, lost and flailing from one puzzle into another without the stars to guide her. And without that comfort, she pressed outward, seeking stability beyond the celestial veils in darker places of power. Something in that dark realm sparked her senses, focusing her attention on Mara as the strange woman stepped out into the orange light of the roaring flames.

Though Quessahn turned away from the burning tavern and the Watch, Mara went toward them, calmly approaching the nearest officer of the Watch. Quessahn swore, a spell coming to her lips, certain that Mara intended to betray Jinn at her first chance. She held back the dark magic, surrounded by too many witnesses, and reached for her dagger instead. If necessary, cold steel would cause less of a stir than hostile spells.

"Officer!" Mara called out, suddenly appearing frightened and fragile as the Watchman turned. "It's terrible! Murder in the alley! You must see!"

She pointed daintily, her face a perfect mask of distress as the officer pressed by her dutifully. Quessahn gripped her dagger so tightly, her hands hurt, but as the officer turned into the alley, Mara's expression hardened to a grim smile. She winked at Quessahn as she followed the man.

"Careful there, girl," she whispered, gesturing to the dagger hidden beneath the eladrin's cloak. "You'll cut yourself."

Quessahn narrowed her eyes and loosened her grip on the knife but did not release it. The Watchman paused as he neared the young woman's broken body, swearing as he turned and reaching for the signal horn at his belt, but Mara stood in his path. She hissed a stream of arcane words, waving her hand in a sweeping gesture that sparkled like glitter. The officer flinched as if struck, his eyes glazing over as the glittering light of Mara's spell swirled in his widened pupils. He stumbled forward, catching himself for a breath before slumping to the ground, snoring soundly.

"You might have warned me," Quessahn muttered as Mara knelt over the man's body.

"I might have, yes," Mara said as she stole the officer's signal horn. "But I don't know you, and I don't trust you. I think that puts us on even ground, does it not?"

"Fair enough," Quessahn replied as they exited the alley away from the tavern, hoods kept close as a Watch patrol passed them by and still more gawkers stopped to watch the last of the tavern's embers hiss with steam. They followed the wide street north, keeping to what shadows were available on the fairly well-lit street, avoiding taverns where curious patrons had gathered outside, staring down toward the glowing light of the Storm's Front.

Mara turned left into the narrower streets of Morningstar Way, and Quessahn let her lead, not wanting to let the wizard out of her sight. Most of the windows they passed were dark, curtains and shutters drawn against the chill, night air, but a few remained lit, usually near servants' entrances where there was still work to be done for their wealthy employers.

"How do you know Jinn?" Mara asked, breaking the silence between them.

"I–I helped him once, a few years ago," she answered, stammering, surprised by the question and stumbling over the half lie ungracefully. Mara seemed not to notice as they angled north again, darker alleys flanking them and stinking with refuse. "Something to do with an underground cult he'd been pursuing for some time."

They entered a longer stretch of shadows and dark windows, and Mara paused, pulling forth the signal horn from beneath her cloak. She raised it to her lips then paused, lowering it and smiling at Quessahn knowingly.

"I understand that you've helped him," she said and leaned closer, winking conspiratorially. "But you did not answer my question."

Mara blew several strident notes on the horn, employing a common Watch signal used to call reinforcements, before Quessahn could respond. The echoing blasts would reach most of Sea Ward, drawing the Watch away from Jinnaoth and keeping them busy while he attended to his suspicions. Quessahn let Mara's statement be, turning as several windows lit with fresh, flickering light.

"Where to now?" she asked, imagining patrols converging on them already.

"Now we shall go to meet Jinn," Mara answered, replacing the horn in her cloak, still smiling with a mischievous look in her dark eyes.

Quessahn averted her gaze, trying to appear concerned, though the Watch would not be looking for two women. They walked swiftly east, silent and stealthy, Quessahn's heart racing as she fought to banish the memories stirred by Mara's question.