The Gossamer Plain

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Vhok broke into a run, racing to aid Zasian. As he sprinted, he pulled Burnblood free with one hand and the magical wand with the other. He raised the spiraling shaft of wood and uttered the trigger word. The cambion felt arcane power erupt from the wand, but the four glowing darts that shot forth dissipated with a sizzling pop.

Damn, Vhok thought, increasing his speed. Too far away.

Zasian, surrounded by the three whirling, birdlike creatures, spun in place and made odd gesticulations. Vhok could see that the priest was drawing on his divine magic to defend himself. Sure enough, as the human finished his bizarre motions, the cambion saw all three of the creatures flinch and veer away. The priest took advantage of the lull to put some distance between himself and his adversaries by descending rapidly through the air.

The creatures appeared to be a crossbreed of bird and reptile. Like every beast they had encountered on the Plane of Fire, the trio seemed made of fiery stuff that smoked and glowed. As Vhok ran closer, he saw that their wings, too, guttered with inner flame, and the faster they flew, the brighter their glow became, like hot embers stoked by a breeze. The smoke he saw trailing from them came from those flaming wings.

Their lean bodies reminded Vhok of images he had seen of great-jawed beasts found in the hotter climes of Faerun, particularly in the wetlands along the southern shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars. Huge snapping jaws lined with numerous rows of teeth looked powerful enough to crunch through bone and rend a man's leg off. Their rough, knobby-scaled skin appeared tough and impenetrable.

Whatever magic Zasian had invoked against the three flying monstrosities had only a temporary effect. The creatures wheeled about and began to close on the priest once more. One dived right at him, its mouth agape.

Though he continued to descend, Zasian pulled his weapon free and twirled the morningstar around. His descent was too slow to evade the flying beasts, as he glided rather than fell from them. As the creature closed in, the priest swung his enchanted weapon with both hands. The spiked head of the morningstar slammed against the underside of the snapping jaw, driving the assailant away. With a roar, it wheeled and retreated. The maneuver showered Zasian with sparks from its hissing wings.

The other two closed in for the kill.

Vhok wondered if he was near enough to employ the wand. He aimed it and discharged the magic once more. This time, the four missiles shot forward unerringly. They emitted shrill whistles as they zipped toward the nearest of the three beasts, turning in their path to follow the creature as it bobbed and weaved around in the sky. When the quartet of magical darts reached the beast, Vhok heard the rapid pop of each one penetrating that rough, scaly hide.

The bird-thing roared in pain, an animalistic howl. It shuddered and flapped its wings awkwardly, tumbling for a moment in the sky. A heartbeat or two later, it regained its equilibrium and leveled off. Vhok had driven it away from Zasian, but the reprieve was only temporary for the priest. The monstrosity began to circle once more, angling its descent to intersect with its prey.

Vhok aimed the wand again and was on the verge of launching another volley of potent darts when his footing gave way beneath him. One moment he was dashing through the air, and the next he found himself tumbling forward as though he had misjudged a step. His instinct caused him to sprawl forward, to fall upon his hands and knees, but there was nothing to catch him. He plummeted to the ground.

Zasian's spell had expired.

In that first moment of realization, Vhok expected to drop like a rock, but as he recovered his wits, he understood that the spell was dwindling rather than vanishing instantly. He descended at a reasonable clip, just a little more rapidly than his levitation ability would allow. Still, the disappearance of the magic had thrown him off, and his fall was taking him out of the battle. As he recovered and attempted to stand upright, Vhok also realized that his movement had drawn him inland from the shore of the lava sea. He plummeted toward the crystal growths. If he fell into them, he would be cut to ribbons.

With a thought, the cambion invoked his levitation power and slowed his fall. Another moment of concentration arrested his descent completely. Stable once more, Vhok turned his attention toward Zasian, who still fell below him.

The priest staggered from the bite of one of the creatures. The beast had swooped in and clamped down on Zasian's arm and was dragging him through the air. Vhok saw his companion roll his head back in anguish. He struggled to grab hold of something within his black tunic.

The mans weight was significant and caused the bird-thing's flight to become erratic. At the same time, another of the three creatures latched onto Zasian's leg. Vhok heard the man's shout of pain. The priest was whipped around like a doll as the two creatures began to wrestle in the air over their disputed prize.

By the fell lords! Vhok inwardly cursed. He jerked the wand up and fired it again, mentally commanding two of the darts to strike each creature. The glowing missiles streaked toward their targets, but Vhok didn't waste time waiting to see how effective they would be. He slipped his hand inside his shirt and produced a small feather. Muttering an arcane phrase and spinning the feather between his thumb and forefinger, Vhok completed a spell that would permit him to fly. Immediately, he launched himself forward, preparing to use the wand again as he closed the distance to the battle.

The enchanted darts succeeded as Vhok had hoped. Both of the bird-things released their prey, and Zasian began to fall once more. Vhok could see that the priest's magic still slowed him, but he tumbled lifelessly, spinning as he fell. Worse, the creatures, in their thrashing struggle over their prize, had hauled him inland, over the forest of crystal trees. He was headed right toward them and would plunge into their razor-sharp depths at any moment.

Vhok shot forward, hoping he could reach Zasian in time. As he drew near, he saw that the priest was dazed, but not unconscious. Vhok considered grabbing the man and trying to rouse him, but he wasn't sure he could maintain his altitude if the burden was too great upon his magical flight. Then inspiration struck.

As Vhok surged closer, he pulled out a bit of gauze. Ample smoke drifted in the air to make the spell work. Spouting the strange words of magic, he swooped past Zasian and tapped the priest lightly at the conclusion of the spell. The priest nearly vanished, transformed into a puff of vapor.

There, Vhok thought proudly, that should soften the-

The cambion grunted in pain as one of the three bird-beasts plowed into him from behind and bowled him over in midair. He felt jagged, scalding teeth sink into his shoulder as he was jerked to a sudden stop. The creature violently yanked its head back and forth. Vhok screamed in pain as he felt a large portion of his flesh being torn from his body. His arm went white hot and numb, and he dropped Burnblood into the crystalline lattice of mineral growth below.

As spots flashed in his vision, Vhok fumbled the wand up and forced himself to focus his gaze on the scorching-hot snout clamped on his shoulder. He breathed the trigger phrase once more and saw the magical darts leap from the tip into the scaly nose.

The pressure on his mangled shoulder eased immediately. The monstrosity screamed in Vhok's ear as it let go and dodged away. Swooning from the overwhelming pain, Vhok tried to right himself. He fumbled for control of his magical flight, but his mind was half-numb with agony, and he could hardly concentrate enough to orient himself, much less grasp the arcane power. With a groan, he braced for the inevitable, knowing he would die once he plunged into the crystal forest. The myriad edges of the latticework would rip him to shreds.

A high-pitched keening suddenly assaulted the cambion's ears. The penetrating tone was followed a heartbeat later by the sound of a thousand-thousand crystal goblets shattering upon a stone floor. In his uncontrolled drop, Vhok never saw from which direction any of it occurred. He simply knew he headed for it.

Vhok struck solid rock and bounced hard. The landing stole his breath from him. Combined with the pain he already endured, his vision faded. When he regained consciousness, he sensed healing magic flowing into his body, repairing his shoulder. He opened one eye and found Zasian leaning over him. Beyond the priest, the swirling smoke and ash of the orange-gray sky glowed unobstructed by any crystalline growth. Vhok had landed in a clearing.

Zasian sat back. "There," he said. "That ought to hold you for the moment. Your sword, good sir," he intoned, holding Burnblood out for Vhok to reclaim.

Vhok blinked and opened both eyes. "What the blazes happened?" he asked. He tried to sit up, and the sound of grinding glass crunched beneath him. He felt a multitude of tiny pinpricks gouge his skin. "Ow!" he muttered.

"Sorry," the priest replied, helping Vhok to his feet. "It was the best I could do on the fly. You're lucky I even thought of it in time." Zasian gingerly brushed Vhok's back clean of the shards of mineral while the half-fiend sheathed his prized weapon.

"Thought of what?" the cambion asked, peering around at the ground.

The surface was dusted with coarse powder, mostly white but with a smattering of purples and mauves sprinkled in. It looked as though a localized snowfall had come down within the clearing, which measured perhaps five paces across.

"Why, shattering them, of course," Zasian said. "It occurred to me that so much of this accursed place is made of rock, and not all of it superheated. I thought perhaps a spell designed to make such substances crack and crumble would come in handy. Turns out it did."

A shadow passed over the pair just then, and when Vhok glanced up, he spotted one of the creatures drawing up sharply after having flown past his landing point. It was circling around to dive at the two travelers.

"They are persistent," the priest said. "Kurkle warned us to watch the skies as well as the lava. I guess I should have heeded him better. Regardless," he added, "we need to get away from here." Zasian peered around. "I don't know if they'd try to follow us through this or not," he said, pointing to the crystals, "but maybe they won't and we can slip away."

The bird-creature swooped in close again, screeching in anger as it tried to find a way to attack its prey. The shards of crystal were enough of a deterrent to keep it at bay. It spun and wheeled away again.

Zasian muttered something unintelligible and waved his arms overhead. A thick mist sprang up around them, obscuring everything beyond a pace or two on every side. Vhok could barely make out the priest's form sitting next to him in the blinding white haze.

"That ought to slow them down for a bit," Zasian said.

"Too bad I cannot alter the two of us to a gaseous form again," Vhok lamented. "It would make moving through this odd forest much easier."

"Indeed," the priest agreed. "And that was quick thinking, by the way. Gave me time to gather my wits and work my own magic to return the favor." He put his finger to his lips and tapped it a couple of times. "I wonder," he said, more to himself than the cambion. "Yes," he said, apparently resolving whatever dilemma he had been pondering. "The decision, of course, is which direction to go?" he asked aloud, though he didn't seem to be asking Vhok.

"I spotted a path that way," the cambion said, pointing in the direction he had explored before the battle with the bird-creatures. "That seems the best choice."

"I concur," the priest said. "How far?"

"Not long, if we were on open ground," Vhok replied. "But much too far to try slinking through this mess."

"Leave that to me," Zasian said. "Let's give those nasty beasts some time to lose interest in us. If we remain out of sight in this mist, perhaps they will seek something more palatable and easier to catch."

The two travelers spent a few more moments waiting and listening. The screech of the flying beasts echoed through the crystalline forest a half-dozen more times. Each call grew a bit fainter, a bit farther away. At last, neither Vhok nor Zasian heard anything more of the creatures. A moment later, the mist dissipated.

"Shall we?" Zasian asked, rising to his feet. "I think a spiritual morningstar will serve us nicely," he added. He grasped hold of a necklace hidden within the folds of his outfit and spoke a few words.

A glowing, spiked weapon similar in design to the priest's real item sprang into view, hovering about shoulder high. Vhok gave it a cursory glance, recognizing the spell. Obeying Zasian's mental commands, the glowing morningstar moved to the edge of the newly made clearing and began pounding the branches of the closest crystal tree. Limbs of mineral vibrated and snapped, sending shards everywhere. Vhok flung up his arm to shield his eyes from the flying debris.

"Yes, I think we should stay well back," Zasian commented. "Let it do the dirty work."

The spiritual weapon continued, cutting a swath through the lattice just wide enough for cambion and priest to fit through. As it plowed deeper into the maze of bizarre protrusions, Vhok and the Banite followed it. After a time, Zasian began to get a feel and a rhythm for the fastest route, snapping only the thinnest branches off the ends of each growth. It wasn't as fast as walking, but they made steady progress.

Once, Vhok thought he heard the screech of one of the things that had attacked them, and Zasian held the magical weapon still while they searched the sky together. If it had come near, they could not see it, and at last they presumed that it had wandered away. The priest put the morningstar to work once more.

The spell ended before they reached the path Vhok remembered seeing, so Zasian summoned the spell a second time and they continued. Before long, the morningstar broke through to clear ground.

The path Vhok had seen was straight and wide. He saw no evidence of who or what might have made it, but it was clearly unnatural. Whatever had made the trail had done a thorough job, Vhok noted. No remnants of crystal lay scattered on the black and baking ground, no mineral dust indicated that any of the growth had been pulverized or crushed. No tracks remained that Vhok could see. It was impossible for him to discern how well traveled the path might be.

Shrugging, he started forward, with Zasian beside him. As they walked, they kept one eye on the sky, wary of being surprised again by the soaring, wheeling beasts. The bird-things did not return to trouble them again.

The land rose as they left the Islands behind. Flat shoreline became low foothills, which in turn became steeper mountains. Vhok could see the glow of magma trickling down from the higher elevations ahead of them. He hoped they would not face much steep climbing or fording of the molten rock. He suspected his wishes would be in vain.

The path began to wind more and more. It became a series of switchbacks that climbed the steeper slopes. In various places, Vhok and Zasian found narrow bridges crafted of black, igneous stone crossing deep gullies and ravines. Glowing magma coursed down those channels, and Vhok was thankful that some intelligent beings had constructed the road. He wondered how long it might be before they ran into the bridge builders, and whether they would receive a better reception than the centaur bandits had offered.

The forest of crystal remained all around them, and the individual growths grew higher and higher as they ascended the slopes of the mountains. Soon, the things were towering well over their heads, with trunks as thick as giants' waists. Vhok noted that the branches did not protrude from the main trunks until well overhead. Like a normal forest on Faerun, the effect created a cathedral-like openness at ground level with a canopy of shelter overhead. The only difference, the cambion observed, was that fallen branches and decaying leaves were replaced by jagged shards of glassy stone and coarse powder that covered the land like snow. It might have been beautiful, but he dared not tread upon it.

After walking for a long time, Vhok broke the silence. "We need to find shelter soon," he said. "Nothing looks very inviting out here, though," he added. He could not hide the bitterness in his voice. He knew their rest would be far less comfortable without the luxury of his magical mansion. He was angry at himself for not planning a backup measure.

Yet another consequence for being too trusting, he lamented.

"That may be a problem," Zasian said. "Without enough rest, it may be difficult for either of us to rejuvenate our magic."

They plodded along, vainly seeking some sort of reprieve from the scorching ground and broiling atmosphere. Despite the magical protection of the rings both wore, the cambion felt his energy draining from him. Sweat soaked him through, his mouth was parched, and his nose and eyes stung from the acrid air. Everything smelled burned. He was sick of it.

Vhok realized that there was no day or night within the Plane of Fire. The sky remained that same roiling hue of orange mixed with gray and black, an endless stretch of smoky clouds churning overhead and reflecting the light of a million burning fires. He had no idea how long they had been traveling since extracting themselves from the dimensional mansion. He knew he was tired, though.

"We've got to halt," he announced at last. He stopped and propped himself against an outcropping of rock that jutted from a steep-sided slope running alongside the trail. "No more today," he added.

"There's no place to shelter us," Zasian argued. "Maybe the next bridge would suit us."

"Yes, an excellent idea," Vhok said, and he laughed, but he felt no mirth. "We can hide beneath it like trolls."

"You would prefer to just plop down here?" the priest demanded, his tone haughty. "Exposed? Visible? At the mercy of the endless, thrice-damned heat?" he shouted, visibly angry. He flung his pack down upon the ground, and when it began to smolder, he snatched it up again. "See?" he yelled, frantically patting the flames out on the scorched bundle. "There's no way we can set up a camp here! Everything will turn to ash in a matter of moments!"

Vhok sighed. He was too worn out to resent the priest's words. He knew Zasian was right, and he had only himself to blame. "I find it odd," he said at last, "that you do not point at me and shout blame, like so many of your kind. A follower of Bane who doesn't seize any opportunity to demean and accuse? How is it that you are so even-tempered?"

Zasian looked at Vhok with surprise. "What would be the point of that?" he asked. "I serve the Black Lord because I want to succeed. I've got better things to do than belittle quaking wretches afraid of their own shadows. Bane will judge me on my own merits, not on how much poorer I made another out to be."

"That sounds almost noble," Vhok said, a sly smile flashing across his face. "Are you sure that is what Bane requires of you?"

"It's true that many Banites seek every opportunity to tear down those around them in order to make themselves appear more powerful. I find that to be folly. They spend all their time circling the mountain, looking for others to push off, rather than making their way to the top of it."

The cambion grunted in appreciation of his counterpart's wisdom.

"That does not mean that I will not put an upstart underling in his place, if need be. I have little tolerance for those who merit punishment, but I see no sense in squashing genius. There is a difference between exerting one's authority and jealously trying to punish ambition."

"And so there's no sense of recrimination toward me?" Vhok asked. "No accusation of misdeeds on my part?"

"Why?" the priest asked in response. "Because you trusted that maggot of a half-dragon and his clan? I was there at the Everfire, too. Did I raise an objection? No. If I had thought your decision was folly, I would have told you."

"Would you now?" Vhok held some doubt that Zasian was being truthful with him.

"Just as I am telling you now that your growing frustration with our current predicament is folly," the priest said. "It does us no good to grow irate about it. We cannot stay here-we both know that. Our choices are simple. We either push on, or we give up and find a means to return to Sundabar."

Vhok sighed again. "I know," he said. "I'm just so damned tired. I-"

The cambion froze in the midst of his speech. He heard a noise, from just beyond the bend in the trail. He reached for Burnblood and took a halting step forward, unsure if his weary mind had played tricks on him.

At almost the same instant, Zasian's eyes grew wide as he stared at something over Vhok's shoulder. He jerked upright and fumbled for something within his tunic.

The cambion spun around. He saw nothing. "What is it?" he asked, pulling his sword free. "What do you see?"

"There," the priest said, pointing with one hand while extracting a scroll with the other. As Vhok turned to look again at what seemed to be an empty trail, Zasian blurted out an unintelligible phrase in rapid, clipped tones. As he finished, a horde of dwarves, their hair and beards flickering flame, materialized out of nothingness.

Dappled sunlight shone through the high boughs of the forest canopy overhead. Aliisza watched as a gray-haired woman tried to chop a log in half. Her arms quavered, and she had no real skill at the work. Her blows against the hardwood fell awkwardly or missed altogether. Once, she nearly took off her own toes.

Yet she persevered, righting the fallen log and hefting the axe again. Sweat beaded on her wrinkled brow and her breathing came in labored gasps. Finally, she succeeded in splitting the log, and sighed as the two halves fell away from her chopping block. The woman knelt down, clutching at her back, and collected the two pieces of wood. She hobbled to the front porch of her little cottage, a thatched-roof affair of coarse logs and mud chinking, and stacked the freshly split wood on the tiny pile she had started.

Aliisza watched her work for some time. It seemed to the alu that the woman intended to chop all day, even though she made very little headway. Her diligence was made all the more pitiful because of the other figure standing there, also watching.

An elderly man, similar in age to the woman, waited motionless in the trees nearby. Tears ran down his face as he studied her efforts. He wore a Sundabarian military tunic, but beneath it, he was clothed in a simple woodsman's outfit, and the bow and quiver on his back marked him as a hunter.

He had died that night in the canyon, too.

Aliisza couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene. The man, a ghost, could only stare mutely and cry as his wife labored to survive. They had shared the cottage for many years, the alu knew, on the fringe of civilization. The man had kept them both safe, hunting food in the forest while the woman baked and cleaned. They were happy together. When the man had been called into service by the Stone Shields, he had stoically fulfilled his duty, even though he was well past the age of obligation. He had promised his quaking wife that he would be back soon, that she should go to live with her sister nearer to the city until he could return.

Of course, she had refused.

It was her home, she had insisted, and it was where she would wait for him to come back to her, when his obligation was completed.

She was still waiting.

No word had ever come back to her, no message that her husband had disappeared one night while on patrol. Though he was long overdue, she suspected nothing, only worried that the military had need of his services for longer than expected.

It wasn't too bad, she thought, except for the chores. She wasn't as strong as she once had been, and keeping up the property was more difficult. But she trusted that her man, her true love since both had been barely more than children, would come back to her.

Aliisza did not want to care. People die, she insisted. They grow old, or they are injured, or they are killed in battle. It is the way the world works. It is not my affair. Not my problem!

The alu turned away, weary from watching the ghost grieve for his forgotten wife. She didn't want to be there when he witnessed the old woman's death at the hands of a marauding band of tanarukks later that night. Aliisza knew the script by heart, even though she had not witnessed it. Somehow, it had embedded itself in her mind.

Enough! she silently screamed, and the vision faded. No more! she thought, thankful that the garden and fountains reappeared. Every time, she feared that they would not, that she would find herself stuck in a vision for eternity.

It was nighttime again, the moon high in the sky. Somehow, whenever she returned, it was night. She liked the night, the darkness. It pleased her, let her feel safe within its shadows. So no one can see me, she thought. So no one can examine these foolish thoughts I can't get rid of.

The wind chimes tinkled softly in the darkness and the leaves of the great tree glowed silver in the moonlight as Aliisza strolled toward one of the benches. She was halfway there before she realized another figure sat upon it.

"Tauran," she said, secretly thankful that he had come, but unwilling to admit it out loud. "Why are you here?"

"To see how you fare," the angel replied, rising. "Because I know you wanted it."

"Do you do everything I want?" she asked coyly, afraid to ask aloud the question truly in her mind. How much do you know? Can you see what your horrid visions are doing to me?

"Not quite," the deva replied. "As much as is necessary, for both our sakes."

Aliisza tossed her head. "What does that mean?"

"It means," the angel said, moving toward the pool, "that it's time for me to show you this." He dipped his fingers in the water and swirled them for a moment.

Before the half-fiend reached the edge of the fountain, he removed them. There, just as she expected, was an image, rather than a reflection of the night sky. She saw herself, her body, like before. It had grown bulkier, fat. Bloated.

Aliisza gasped. "W-why?" she stammered. "Why am I like that?"

"You are due to deliver soon," the angel said softly.

"No!" Aliisza cried. "That cannot be! I have not been here more than a tenday, perhaps two at most! No child could grow that fast! What is happening?"

Tauran smiled, one of those sad smiles that Aliisza had come to dread. It was a smile that meant, "I am about to tell you that your world will come crashing down once more."

"Time moves differently there, and here," he explained. "Where your body lies, time flows much faster. It has been the full term of your pregnancy there. Soon, your child will be born."

"And here?" she asked, fearful of the answer.

"Here," he answered, "time moves much more slowly. Though it seems as though you have been here a tenday or more, beyond this place, only a single day has passed. You have completed but one day of your year-long sentence, Aliisza."

"No!" Aliisza sobbed. "You bastard!"