The Gossamer Plain

CHAPTER SEVEN

The half-orc that had been a hellish canine only moments earlier approached the trio and came to a stop a few paces from them. He folded his arms across his chest and studied them, as through appraising them. "You came ill prepared," he stated, a brief smirk crossing his face. "Your magic may protect you now, but it will not help when creatures attack. You will still burn."

"We've found that out already," Vhok replied wryly. "We'll keep it in mind for next time," he added.

"You are Kurkle?" Zasian asked, stepping forward. "Our guide? I am Zasian, the one who contacted you and hired you. You received the first payment, I trust."

The half-orc barked a laugh. "I am," he said. "But I did not know three fools had hired me. You cannot travel this place as you are, unprotected. You must go back to your own plane."

Vhok narrowed his eyes. "We hired you to guide us to the City of Brass. You've been paid, so guide. We'll keep our own counsel, otherwise."

Kurkle let out a low growl, deep in his throat, and his fiery red eyes gleamed in anger. Then he shrugged. "So be it. If the fires consume you, Kurkle will get your treasure."

The foursome set out then, the half-orc guide in the lead. As before, Vhok strode behind Zasian, with Myshik in the rear. As they hiked, the cambion made a point of keeping a watch, hoping to prevent any nasty surprises from sneaking up on them. He found the constant crackle and hiss of the ever-present conflagrations disconcerting. The noises made it difficult to listen for sounds of pursuit, especially since he suspected that most things living there would also blaze and crackle as they moved.

From time to time, Kurkle would drop to all fours and transform into a hound, then go loping off into the hazy distance, running in wide arcs ahead of the other three. He would disappear for some time, while the three visitors continued along the path he had set for them.

At the first occurrence, Vhok grew concerned that their guide was abandoning them, but Zasian shook his head. "I think he's scouting," the priest commented. "His senses are keen. He is renowned for his skills, and his reputation is equally well known. He will not betray us."

Vhok grumbled his acceptance, but he did not like being so dependent on anyone or anything he could not control.

Eventually, Kurkle returned and transformed into his humanoid shape again before resuming the lead. He said nothing, but corrected their course according to landmarks only he seemed aware of. To Vhok, the landscape was an endless stretch of smoldering embers and blowing ash broken only by the incessant jets of fire.

On Kurkle's third such scouting foray, Myshik posed a question. "What is Kurkle?" Vhok assumed that he was speaking to Zasian, since the priest had been the one to arrange for the creature's services.

"Canomorph," the human replied. "The hell hound is his natural form, but some of his kind have learned how to shapeshift into humanoids. He's feral and instinctual, but he will get us there."

After a time, the land flattened, and Vhok turned to look back in the direction they had come. He could barely make out the ridge of flaming, scorched mountains from which they had descended. The peaks were low and smooth, and their flanks were ribboned with streams of molten fire, magma flowing down their sides like water.

The land did not remain flat for very long. Soon enough, Kurkle led them into what Vhok would have considered badlands on Toril: steep-sided hills, plateaus, and pinnacles separated by scree-filled gullies, trenches, and washes. The terrain popped, flamed, and glowed all around them. Noxious gases wafted everywhere, stinging Vhok's eyes and making sight difficult.

As the day's journey wore on, Vhok had to concentrate to keep from grumbling. They seemed to be moving at a slug's pace, and the half-fiend was not accustomed to traveling on foot for such long distances. He sorely missed the creature comforts of riding in his military palanquin, and he grew more and more irritable.

The cambion even suggested that they employ some form of magic to convey themselves, but Kurkle warned against it, claiming it was harder for predators to spot them if they remained low, using the winding defiles to improve their concealment. Even if they had wanted to ignore that precaution, Myshik and Kurkle were both at a disadvantage, for they had no magic to draw upon to aid their passage. Resigned to traveling like a common merchant, Vhok's mood grew more foul as the journey progressed.

To make matters worse, they attracted the attention of bandits. Vhok caught a glimpse of them when the foursome was forced to cross some stretches of open ground. Perhaps half a dozen riders shimmered in the distance, their outlines distorted by the wavering heat of the terrain. Though Kurkle steered his charges away from the threat, the bandits pursued them. They seemed persistent, and Vhok wondered why.

The sojourn became even less pleasant when thick black clouds of smoke roiled over the group. As before, the caustic murk stung eyes and lungs and made for treacherously poor visibility. Kurkle took advantage of the cloaking vapors to change their direction, cutting back and to the right and following a narrow canyon for a long distance. The cambion questioned the wisdom of losing ground, but the canomorph insisted that it was a far better inconvenience than being ambushed by their pursuers.

When the smoke cleared, the expedition seemed to have lost the bandits, and Vhok thought they had seen the last of them. But soon enough, Kurkle reported signs that the enemies were close again, deepening Vhok's gloomy mood. Determined to avoid them if they could, the foursome continued on.

Any time Kurkle feared that they might be discovered, he sent the trio scrambling for cover while he prowled around, sniffing the acrid air, scrambling up the sides of gullies to peer into the distance. Sometimes he disappeared entirely for long stretches of time.

After one of the canomorph's scouting runs, Kurkle came loping back in hound form. "They are close at hand," he said, motioning for a sudden halt. All three travelers knew the routine by then. They went to ground, seeking available cover, as their guide darted off to observe the bandits. They found plenty of places to hide in the gulley they followed. Vhok ducked behind a large outcropping of glowing rock. The superheated stone sizzled and crackled loudly in the cambion's ears as he crouched, waiting for Kurkle to return.

Vhok watched his sweat vaporize in tiny curling puffs of steam as he waited, his mood truly black.

Something large stepped upon the outcropping right above Vhok, and the cambion was aware of it a heartbeat before it knew of him. He jerked back and stared as the creature, which he first thought was a rider upon a basalt black horse, peered in his direction. Vhok realized his mistake immediately. It was not a mounted rider, but a single creature, and he recognized it as a centaur. But unlike the horse-men of Toril, the creature looming over Vhok had skin the color of onyx, its hair, eyes, and hooves seemed to be made of flame, and it exhaled gouts of smoke. The bandit clutched a long spear in one hand, and Vhok could see a bow slung over one shoulder.

Upon spotting the cambion, the fiery centaur reared on its back legs and snarled in glee as it raised its spear high in an overhand grip. The tip of the weapon glowed orange, while the haft seemed to be chiseled of black stone. Vhok deepened his crouch and reached for his long sword, but his foe had both reach and a height advantage. When the spear came jabbing down at the cambion, Vhok darted beneath the outcropping and gave a shrill whistle of warning. The spear slammed into the ground where Vhok had stood, releasing a shower of embers and sparks.

Not waiting to see which side of the outcropping Vhok might pop from, the elemental centaur leaped down into the defile and spun to face him. At that moment, Zasian rose up from his hiding place behind a large boulder and struck the creature across one flank with his morningstar. The centaur was steadying himself to run Vhok through with the spear, but the blow made him start and shift, and the attack was ruined.

Faster than Vhok could think, the centaur kicked out with his hind legs at Zasian, catching the man hard in the chest. The priest let out a whoosh of air and staggered backward, gasping.

The distraction was enough for Vhok to shift his sword to his off hand and pull out the wand he kept handy. When the centaur turned to face him again, Vhok leveled the magical device and let loose. Three of the four glowing missiles slammed into the upper torso of the bandit-and the fourth caught Myshik squarely as he leaped on the centaur's back for an attack. The half-dragon flinched and swung his great dwarven war axe wildly, only grazing his foe's shoulder.

The attack had the desired effect on the molten centaur. The creature reared up, flailing in the air with his human arms, trying too late to evade the attack. The sudden shift tossed Myshik backward, off the bandit. The half-dragon landed hard against the smoking ground and bounced away, losing his grip on his axe.

Kurkle exploded into Vhok's view, rushing the centaur from the side in hound form. The scout leaped up and snapped at the bandit, his jaws clamping onto the creature's throat as he sailed past. Already weakened from Vhok's strike, the bandit could not evade the attack, and Kurkle tore free most of the front of the centaur's neck.

The centaur clutched at its throat and tried to scream, but the only sound coming forth was a sickening gurgle accompanied by gushes of smoky blood that oozed through his fingers. Staggering to one side, listing off balance, the centaur tried to keep his feet beneath himself, but the life was leaving his eyes. The glowing yellow orbs dimmed to a dull orange even as the bandit toppled to the ground. His head bounced hard upon the burning stone and his eyes faded to dim red, then guttered out. His arms flopped aside and he lay still.

The gash in the centaur's throat still spilled blood, and as the spatters dripped and hit the searing ground below, they crackled and sizzled. The fluids rapidly evaporated in a noisome, foul-smelling cloud of vapor.

Myshik groaned and tried to climb to his feet, but he was wobbly and dazed. Zasian moved to the half-dragon's side and uttered a prayer of healing while Vhok crept to the top of the rise to see if any more bandits had drawn near. He didn't see anything, though with the billowing smoke blowing across his field of vision, he couldn't see very far.

"Outrider," Kurkle muttered, shifting into his half-orc form. "Scouting the bandits' flank and stumbled upon us."

Vhok coughed. "Not such a formidable foe," he commented, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the canomorph. The guide still had black blood on his lips, which he was enthusiastically licking off.

"One, maybe, sure," he said. "But a band of five or ten of them can trample you in a heartbeat. When they come at you from all sides with those spears and hooves, beware."

Vhok thought the image through for a moment and nodded. He would have to consider carefully the tactics they would employ should they come face to face with a larger group of the bandit centaurs.

"Why are they chasing us?" he asked, wondering again at the enemies' persistence. "What makes us so special?"

Kurkle grunted. "Just because," he said. "Good sport. Treasure to trade with the salamanders or the efreet. They know you aren't natives, figure you must have powerful magic to keep you alive. They want it. And good sport," he repeated, seeming to think that was explanation enough.

Vhok sighed. "I suppose," he grumbled.

Zasian had finished tending to Myshik's injuries and his own, and the two of them were gathering themselves. The half-dragon picked up his axe with a chagrined look while the priest spent a moment sorting through some items in his pack. The cambion noticed that Myshik's weapon exhibited numerous smoking scorch marks along the handle.

"Shouldn't have dropped that," he commented wryly.

The half-dragon gave him a scathing look. "It won't happen again," he replied.

Shrugging, Vhok turned away and spoke to Kurkle. "How much longer must we travel through this accursed terrain?"

The canomorph scratched behind one ear. "The rest of this day, and all of tomorrow," he said. "Beyond that is open plain for a while."

Vhok groaned. "All right," he grumbled, "let's get going, then. Tonight, I'm getting a foot massage."

Kurkle raised one eyebrow, obviously confused by the cambion's comment, but shrugged and turned away.

The others fell into line and soon they were trudging silently along, following the meandering defile while Kurkle continued to travel the high ground around them, keeping watch for more dangers.

As they walked, Vhok noticed what at first appeared to be a strange, dark gray snowfall. It didn't take him long to realize that it wasn't snow at all, but ash. As he looked up into the sky, the fluffy black stuff began to fall harder. In no time, it covered the ground in a layer that was ankle deep.

"How long will this last?" he called out to Kurkle as the canomorph trotted by in hound form. As he spoke, Vhok gestured in the air at the falling ash.

Without bothering to transform into a humanoid, Kurkle began to utter a series of barking words. His diction was awkward, tricky to understand, but Vhok made out the message clearly enough. "Could last all day. I've seen it pile to twice an efreeti's height before."

The cambion sighed and continued trudging, watching with dismay as the three of them left easily discernible footprints in the growing cover.

"Just terrific," he said.

Vhok realized it was time to stop. He was miserably hot, tired, and thirsty. He looked at his two companions and they, too, appeared worn out.

"I think it's time we called a halt and rested," he announced. "Between the progress we've made so far and all we had to go through to get through the Everfire, we shouldn't push ourselves much more."

Kurkle frowned. "This is not a good place to rest," he said. "For me, it's all right. But for you, too many things can find you."

Vhok looked at the humanoid with the bright orange hair. "I have the means to protect us from anything that wanders this way," he said. "We stop here for a night's rest." Without waiting for approval from the others, he slipped his hand into a pouch within his pack and pulled out an odd bundle. Unwrapping it, he revealed the gift from Nahaunglaroth, the sculpture of ivory in the form of a vine-covered stone archway.

The cambion held up the archway and blew through its opening. Immediately, a shimmering doorway very similar in appearance to the archway materialized directly in front of Vhok. He looked at both Zasian and Myshik.

"You both may enter," he said. "Inside, you will find a hearty meal and magical servants to tend to your needs. There are guest quarters for each of you. The door at the top of the stairs is my chamber."

Zasian entered without a second glance at the strange doorway. The priest vanished the moment his foot passed through. Myshik took a moment longer to stare at the magical portal, but after stroking his chin for a moment in consideration, he, too, entered the magical doorway.

Vhok turned to Kurkle. "Within this, we three shall be protected from anything that wanders by. You are welcome to take shelter within, too, but the environment is not like here," he said, and gestured around. "I do not know how much you will like it."

The canomorph paced around the doorway, his face an expression of wary disbelief. "Where did they go?" he demanded.

"They are inside," the cambion answered. "It is a magical shelter. Like a room at an inn," he added, before figuring that Kurkle had very little idea what an inn might be.

"No, I will stay here," Kurkle said at last. "I am safe here. I will guard your door for you while you rest."

"That won't be necessary," Vhok replied. "The doorway will vanish from your sight once I enter and close it. But it will reappear again, when we have rested and refreshed ourselves. We will meet you here then. Yes?"

Kurkle looked doubtful, but he nodded. Before Vhok could enter the sanctuary of his magical mansion, the canomorph had changed into his hound form and was loping away, vanishing in the thick, blinding smoke.

Vhok smiled and passed through the shimmering doorway. Behind him, the portal winked from sight.

Tauran's face was stoic as he led the half-fiend into the private courtyard of her quarters. He strolled toward the portico where the pearlescent archway waited to transport the two of them to the Grand Hall of Temperance. The alu followed him willingly. She remained as he had found her when he returned to her chambers, in the form of a beautiful human woman, though she added a simple dress to her guise. He noted that she had patterned the outfit after the garb common to the Court, white and flowing, with a gold belt and accents on the hem.

She's been paying attention, the astral deva noted. He wasn't sure how that made him feel.

The others had cautioned him to be wary when bringing her to the House. She took the devious cruelty of her succubus mother and the relentless perseverance of her human father and mixed them together to become even more enterprising than either of them. And she was beautiful. Her trickery had no effect on the angel, but he still found her delightful to look at.

Tauran wondered how much she knew of celestial beings. Does she comprehend our love of life, of all things both spiritual and physical that enhance the joys of existence? Can she possibly know how keenly appealing she is for her human foibles even as she seems so treacherous? If I could teach her to harness that craftiness, to find better ways of employing it, let her see the consequences of her actions, what a delightful creature she could be!

But she was a half-fiend, dangerous in every way. And they had warned him to be careful.

No one within the Court had questioned his decision to select her. No creature serving Tyr or any of the other revered deities of the House of the Triad would hesitate to seek a way to save the spirit of the unborn being growing inside Aliisza. The tricky part was separating the mother from the child, to break the bonds of corruption that would otherwise influence the scion, even before it left the womb.

The hard part is done, Tauran thought, as the two of them stepped through the magical barrier. Beside him, Aliisza gasped softly when she discovered that they did not appear where they had before, upon the balcony with its guards. The angel had shifted the magic to take the two of them directly to the Great Hall.

They stood upon a pedestal, one of the floating islands of earth and stone that drifted throughout the plane. Directly before them, covering almost the entire surface of the pedestal like a gargantuan soap bubble, was a great orb. The mammoth sphere's surface gleamed in iridescence in the light of the sun, a magical barrier identical to the pearlescent portal through which the two of them had just stepped.

The angel crossed the distance to the orb's surface and gestured for Aliisza to pass through it. She did not come immediately. Instead, she stood rooted to her spot upon an outcropping of rock near the edge of the pedestal, staring at everything around her in impressed awe. The celestial could see wariness in her visage, too.

Far below them, the gleaming white of the Court shone brightly. The pedestal drifted above it, separate from much of the rest of the palace. Other celestial beings drifted all around, some coming near and passing through the orb to tend to their own business within the hall. Few of them gave Aliisza a second look in her new form. The beautiful human guise the alu had adapted blended in far better than her native winged shape. Tauran suspected that she had chosen to remain in that appearance for that very reason.

He waited while she moved slowly to stand next to him, turning her head back and forth, gathering the images. It was not uncommon for a first-time visitor to the Court to appear overwhelmed by the beauty and grace of the place. Even a fiend would be hard pressed to deny feeling at least somewhat influenced by the glory of it.

"Aliisza," Tauran said. The alu turned to look at him and hesitated. Instantly, the angel could feel the tug of his magical binding. She was thinking of escape, or causing harm to someone, or another possibility that went against the terms she had agreed upon. The divine power he had employed on her would never have worked had she not willingly accepted the terms, had she not freely given herself to be bound by them. But that single act of concurrence had made the magic possible and unbreakable. She was bound to follow through with the rules as surely as if she had been wrapped in adamantine chains and dragged to her final destination.

The astral deva felt her tug against the magic, felt her try to resist it. She would not sense it that way, of course. To the alu, she simply couldn't muster the will to make one damning move. She could think on such acts easily enough, but her willpower to follow through had been locked away within the bonds. The harder she fought against it, the harder she tried to force her body to act as she wished, the more pressure Tauran felt on the divine bond.

At last, he felt her struggle wane, and the alu reached out to the strange glowing surface of the orb. As her hand touched it she vanished, whisked beyond it to the inside. Tauran followed.

Aliisza made a slight strangled sound as she took in the Great Hall for the first time. The pair stood in a colonnaded walkway that circled the orb's interior. Beyond the walkway, tier upon tier of benches descended into the lower half of the hemisphere like a grand theater surrounding a central stage. The stage itself was the focal point of the Court. It hovered in the air above the seats, crafted of smooth white stone. Upon it, the tribunal sat in attendance, hearing all petitions brought before it.

Overhead, the top half of the soaring white dome rested upon massive marble columns veined in gold and silver. The underside of the dome bore a complex pattern of gold foil surrounding a fresco of Tyr's benevolent face watching from above. The entirety of the dome glowed with indirect light, filling the place with a happy radiance. Tapestries of vibrant colors all throughout the cavernous chamber depicted the glories of the members of the Triad and their devoted servants. Other astral devas and their charges came and went almost constantly from various points around the periphery of the orb.

Tauran led Aliisza down an aisle toward the stage. The carpeted steps were long and shallow, so it took them two steps across for every step down to make their way to the bottom. Once there, Tauran sat, then motioned for his ward to join him. The alu nodded and sat on the edge of the bench. She craned her neck back, peering up at the floating stage high overhead. Tauran gave her a reassuring smile as they waited to be recognized.

After a few moments, Tauran heard a small voice in his head, indicating that the tribunal was ready to receive them. Before he could warn Aliisza of what was about to happen, magic coursed through them both, and they found themselves seated upon another bench, on the floating stage, directly before the tribunal.

Aliisza gasped at the sudden change in her surroundings and nearly lost her balance. As she recovered, she hissed in vexation and eyed the whole setting warily.

The three members of the tribunal were all solars, great humanoids that stood half again as tall as either Tauran or Aliisza. Their skin was silvery in color, and their eyes blazed with a topaz glow. Wings of white, similar to the astral deva's but far larger, lay folded against their backs. Their faces bespoke supreme authority tempered with wisdom and benevolence.

The solars turned and stared expectantly at Tauran.

The deva rose and approached them. "Noble tribunal, I seek your judgment over the creature known by many as Aliisza the alu, who comes here willingly today to accept your decision."

The solar on the left, the chief of proceedings, stood and looked down at Aliisza. Tauran saw that she seemed to shrink down the slightest bit. "Come forward, Aliisza," the solar demanded, his voice reverberating through the chamber like a rumble of thunder.

Aliisza eyed the creature with trepidation but rose to her feet and approached.

She stood next to Tauran, shoulder to shoulder, and pressed herself close to him. He could smell the rose oil on her skin. He could also smell the taint of her heritage, very faintly. He wondered how much of her consternation was real and how much of it was feigned, designed to guile him.

"Do you indeed come before this tribunal willingly, to be judged and sentenced?" the solar asked. Tauran could feel the timbre of the creature's voice vibrate in the stones beneath his feet. "You agree to be bound by the decisions of this court in all things, without coercion by any creature, mortal or immortal?"

Aliisza stood dumbly for a moment, and Tauran was just about to turn to her to see if she understood the question, when she blurted out, "Do I have a choice?"

A long silence followed as her words echoed into the deep recesses of the Great Hall. Then the chief of the tribunal spoke again.

"There is choice in everything, tainted one," the solar boomed. "You choose to place a blade at another's throat and threaten their life unless they do your bidding. Your victim chooses whether to appease you or die in defiance. With all of us, with every step we take, we make choices. What is your choice here today?"

Aliisza gave the solar a good, hard stare, and Tauran felt the tug of her effort to resist the compunction imposed on her. He suspected she was contemplating how she might strike the chief of the tribunal right then.

Finally, with a visible effort to relax, she said, "You say I have the right to choose, yet I cannot draw my blade and run you through. Nor can I run from this chamber and take flight, flee from this place that stinks with the same arrogance and rigidity that oozes from every follower of your blind god in the world beyond. You say I have a choice, but I cannot seem to change my mind now. What must I do to earn the freedom to die on my own terms, fighting my way clear of you and your condescension?"

Tauran gaped at Aliisza, surprised at her change of heart. He had sensed in her a true desire for mercy, a genuine need to ask forgiveness, even if she didn't understand it herself. But she had shifted away from that, he saw, had reverted to her more demonic nature, unrepentant and defiant even in the face of death.

The chief of the tribunal seemed to shine more brightly than before, as though righteous anger lent him radiance. Tauran knew that the solar was doing more, though. The creature was probing Aliisza, searching the depths of her emotions to find the core feeling hiding behind her outburst.

"That is not what is in your heart," the chief declared at last. "Your maternal instinct holds you back, pushes you to survive, to persevere in the face of inescapable doom. You speak in rage against the tribunal only because you are also conflicted by your feelings. And…" the solar paused, tilting its head to one side. "You are jealous of the attention we have given to your progeny. Ah, now I see why you fight with yourself."

Aliisza glared at her judge, but she kept her mouth shut. Tauran waited, wondering how the Court would proceed. The alu hadn't actually asked to be freed from her agreement. If she had, the Court almost certainly would have granted it-and immediately proceeded to destroy her, right then, within the Great Hall. She would wither and die, and the spirit of her child would become a petitioner, serving for eternity within the House of the Triad. But she had not asked for her release, merely put forth conjecture and asked hypothetical questions.

After the silence had grown almost interminable, the solar spoke again. "Do you wish to be free of your agreement? It is your choice to make, though you know the consequences of your decision."

Aliisza shook her head. "No, damn you. I cannot." Her voice was tight, breathy, and Tauran could see that a single tear ran down her cheek, but her eyes then hardened in some form of resolve. "For whatever reason, the human side of me has decided that I must protect my baby against such a fate." She drew in a long breath and at last said, "I freely and willingly submit to your judgment and sentencing. Spare me so that my child may be born and live."

Tauran wondered at her determination. He suspected that she still sought a means of outwitting him, of escaping her predicament. He knew her nature, her cleverness, and expected that she would fight him for quite some time before realizing she could not break free of her own oath. By then, of course, it would be too late. She did not know what was coming next, but he did. He dreaded her reaction when she learned.

The solar waited a moment, letting Aliisza's words echo through the chamber. Then he spoke one last declaration. "It is the decision of this court that your conscious mind shall be divorced from your body and imprisoned within a dimensional sanctuary. Your body will be placed in stasis while the offspring comes to term and is born. At that time, the child will be taken elsewhere to be raised and your body will return to the dust from whence it came. Your spirit will remain in the dimensional sanctuary for a period of one year, where you shall reflect upon your wicked ways in the hope that you find a conscience and a desire for forgiveness for your crimes. If, after one year has passed, you are found worthy of redemption, then your mind shall be set free and given a new form, one that is more suitable to your glorious nature. If not, then your consciousness will be cast into merciful oblivion as due punishment for your unrepentence. In no event shall you have any future contact with your child. So sayeth this court."

Aliisza made a strangled sound, and her eyes blazed in fury. That fury turned to horror as she realized what she had been sentenced to. Her terrified scream echoed through the chamber, making Tauran's ears ring.