Pages of Pain p-1

by Troy Denning

  "I may have misjudged you, Thrasson. I took you for the sort of fool who might regard the lives of his companions more highly than his own desires." Karfhud, already sitting atop the wall, swung his legs to the other side. "Make your decision soon. I won't wait for you."

  The fiend pushed off and, even before he dropped down the other side, vanished from sight. The Amnesian Hero snorted his frustration, then jumped up, caught hold of the crest of the wall, and pulled himself to the top. As much as he relished the thought of being free of Karfhud – though he suspected that could not truly be while the tanar'ri's heinous face remained tattooed on his palm – the Thrasson knew the fiend had judged him correctly. No man of renown could abandon his companions in a time of such dire need-even if it meant breaking his word to a god. He pulled his chest atop the wall, then swung his legs to the other side and pushed off.

  It is not like passing through a conjunction.

  The Thrasson's stomach does a flip. His body rotates, his feet drifting up over his head. He is falling, he thinks; then no, he realizes, he is floating; an instant later, he decides he is suspended like a beetle in amber, in the syrup of nothingness. In his nostrils, there is nothing, not even the reek of his own unwashed body. His ears roar with silence, his skin prickles with the touch of emptiness, his tongue craves the taste of his own teeth. He sees what dead men see: not darkness, but an ocean of endless, colorless depths. Something goes slack, and the Thrasson feels himself uncoiling inside; his spirit and his mind and his body all drift toward their own separate peace.

  Then a terrific jolt drives his knees up to his chin. He finds himself squatting on his heels, his ears ringing as though someone had boxed them, his bones shuddering from the impact. It would be wrong to say the Thrasson has landed; that would imply falling in the first place. It is closer to the truth to say his paradigm has shifted. Now he sees himself crouching between two rows of brambly hedges with dagger-length thorns, watching in morbid astonishment as Karfhud snuffles about searching for the marilith, harrowing the sandy floor with his blighted face.

  It is clever, is it not, how the Amnesian Hero avoids thinking, even to himself, what a buffoon is that lust-struck tanar'ri? The Thrasson knows, better than any of us, that there is no marilith; would not his Hunter's nose have scented her spoor back in the blind? Would not those special eyes have seen beneath the top layer of ash to pick out her slithering trail, or those fingers have sensed the slimy dampness of her passing? The blood that has so roused Karfhud's passions belongs to Jayk, who was conceived at death and spawned from a marilith's leathery egg, but the Amnesian Hero is careful to think of none of this. He watches the tanar'ri sniff, his thoughts full of concern for his companions and strategies for fighting snake-women. Wiser to play the fool, to hide his nature until the time comes to betray his new keeper and make the fiend his.

  A dangerous game, to be certain – and the only way to defeat the monster of the labyrinth – but how does the Thrasson know all this? Certainly, I did not tell him. And who else could, but you? Someone has a loose tongue, I fear, and they will pay.

  But do not trouble yourself now. It will change nothing in the end, and what good is punishment if it comes expected? Even now, Karfhud has changed directions. The fiend is sniffing back toward the Amnesian Hero, who stands in the middle of the passage, somehow not thinking about the faint rasp of Jayk's breath whispering down the passage from the intersection, somehow pretending that his Hunter's ears don't hear a thing. What happens when Karfhud stops at the Thrasson's feet, it would not do to miss.

  "This cannot be right!" The fiend has jerked his face from the sand and pointed down the passage, away from the intersection. "The blood trail leads around that comer, but the marilith went the other way – with a human!"

  The Amnesian Hero scowled. "That can't be. I was the only human in our party."

  "My nose may look blighted, Thrasson, but it does not lie."

  Karfhud turned to stomp up the passage, leaving the Amnesian Hero to clump behind as best he could. Though it was only a short distance to the intersection, the tanar'ri reached it several paces ahead of the Thrasson. The fiend stopped and looked first left, then right. His great wings flared, drawing a curtain of darkness across the corridor; from his throat rumbled a sonorous growl, so low it felt like an earth tremor.

  "Tiefling!"

  Jayk's voice came around the corner high and shrill, cracking with fear as she uttered her incantation. A tremendous crackling bounced down the passage, and Karfhud's huge wings folded over his back satchel just as a cloud of fire boiled out of the side corridor to swallow him. The passage filled with a yellow smoke that stank of brimstone and charred flesh. The Thrasson stopped and turned away, shielding his face, daring to hope the tiefling had freed him from the fiend.

  The heat of the flames continued to build. The Amnesian Hero flattened himself on the sand and tried to hold his breath. The foul smoke had already filled his longs, and he could not keep from coughing; with each gasp, he swallowed more of the fiery fumes, which caused more convulsions, and he thought he would suffocate.

  Though a lifetime seemed to pass, it did not take more than a few seconds for the.flames to die down. Still coughing, the Amnesian Hero pushed himself off the scorching sands and peered up the passage. Karfhud looked a little blacker than usual, as if that were possible, but stood exactly as he had before the fireball engulfed him.

  "Now will you have reason to lament, tiefling!" The fiend unfolded his great wings, revealing the blackened exterior of his back-satchel. There was a wisp of brownish smoke rising from the pockets where he had stored Tessali's hands, but otherwise the sack appeared intact "For that fireball, and for raising my appetites with that false smell of yours!"

  "Karfhud, wait!" The Amnesian Hero started up the passage, but the fiend was already rounding the corner. "It's not her fault!"

  "Zoombee?" cried Jayk. "Help me!"

  The Amnesian Hero drew his sword and clumped around the comer. Karfhud's wings blocked the passage from one side to the other. Between the fiend's feet, the Thrasson could see Jayk lying on her back, frantically trying to push herself up the passage. She flung a handful of sand toward the fiend's face and ran her fingers through the gestures of a spell, but she was so badly frightened that she could not choke out the incantation.

  "Karfhud, stop!" When the fiend did not obey, the Amnesian Hero rushed forward, sword raised to strike.

  As soon as the Thrasson started to bring the blade down, the weapon slipped from his grasp. He could not violate his oath to the tanar'ri.

  Karfhud stooped down to grasp Jayk in his clawed hands. She shot a frightened glance through the fiend's legs, then tried to call out to the Thrasson. She managed little more than a croak.

  The Amnesian Hero dropped to his knees and snatched up his sword. Then, hoping he had guessed correctly about how to free himself from the fiend, laid his tattooed hand in the sand. He raised the star-forged blade above the wrist, took a deep breath, and started to bring the weapon down.

  A huge, black-taloned hand caught the Thrasson's wrist.

  The Amnesian Hero looked up to see Karfhud's massive homed head sitting backward on the fiend's hulking shoulders. The tanar'ri's maroon eyes, smoldering with suppressed fury, were glaring down over his scorched back-satchel.

  "She is yours?"

  "She is my friend." The Amnesian Hero twisted his sword arm free, still determined to strike off his tattooed hand-if that was necessary to defend Jayk. "But harm to her is harm to me."

  "So you have proven." Karfhud reeled the rest of his body around to match the direction he was looking. "You could have mentioned this before I became so… fervent."

  "You hardly gave me the chance! Besides, you should have known – unless Jayk's smell interferes with your thought-reading as well as your judgment." The Amnesian Hero hoped it did.

  "You should be so lucky," Karfhud remarked.

  Resigning himself to disappointment, the tanar'ri bent his ar
m around in that impossible manner and plucked one of Tessali's hands from his back satchel. Jayk's fireball had left the appendage dark and crispy, but the charring did not bother the fiend, who bit off a blackened finger and began to crunch.

  "It is just as well." The fiend spoke around his snack. "As small as she is, the fray would not have lasted long."

  Though he had managed an indifferent tone, Karfhud's tense bearing betrayed his true feelings. He shouldered past the Amnesian Hero, nearly shoving the Thrasson into a thorn hedge, then disappeared around the comer. He was still chewing Tessali's charred finger.

  As soon as the Fiend was gone, Jayk spread her hands and flung herself at the Amnesian Hero. "Zoombee! You saved my life!"

  The Thrasson caught a glimpse of her diamond-shaped pupils, then dropped his sword and caught her at arm's length. Her broad smile was rained, for him at least, by the two curved fangs hanging over her lower lip.

  "I may look bad, Jayk, but I'm hardly ready for your kiss."

  "Zoombee, you are never ready!" The tiefling pushed her lip into an exaggerated pout, which quickly converted itself back to a sly smile. "And you are wrong to be afraid. You are already-"

  "Already dead – I know." The Amnesian Hero released Jayk, then retrieved his sword. "But it seems to me I'm not the only one who fears death. Did you not just thank me for saving your life?"

  Jayk's face grew as dark as Karfhud's. "It was only an expression, Zoombee." She raised her chin. "I think he meant to steal my spirit, yes? That is why I thanked you."

  "I have not met the tiefling yet that is not a liar." Karfhud's voice rumbled around the comer, putting an end to the Amnesian Hero's vague hope that the fiend needed to see a person to read his thoughts. "You thought I was going to kill you, and you were afraid of dying."

  The Amnesian Hero cocked an eyebrow. "Karfhud does read minds, Jayk."

  The Thrasson regretted the comment the instant it left his mouth. The tiefling's jaw worked silently, trying to find the words to deny what they all knew to be true. Finally, she gave up and spun away, burying her face in her hands.

  "No, don't cry, Jayk." The Amnesian Hero sheathed his sword, then took her in his arms. "It is not wrong to love life."

  The tiefling tried to pull away, but the Amnesian Hero held tight.

  "If I were you, Thrasson, I would release her," warned Karfhud. "You are very near to discovering the truth about the One Death."

  The Amnesian Hero continued to hold Jayk, confident that even for her, there was a difference between thought and action. "Jayk, you were terrified-and with good reason. Don't blame yourself for one moment of doubt."

  Karfhud leaned around the comer, his folded brow lifted as far above his maroon eyes as the Amnesian Hero had seen. The fiend was holding his charred back-satchel in hand, cinching the top strap after having checked on the contents. Given that his face looked no angrier than usual, it appeared the sack's load had survived Jayk's firestorm intact.

  "Thrasson," Karfhud rumbled. "I warn you, she-"

  A whimper of terror tumbled from Jayk's lips, then she slipped around behind the Amnesian Hero.

  The Thrasson reached around to pat her hand. "There is no reason to hide now, Jayk. He won't hurt you while I am here."

  "That is true, tiefling." Karfhud knotted the satchel draw-string, then heaved the sack between his wings and bent his arms back at those impossible angles to buckle it in place. "As long as the Thrasson lives, you are safe enough."

  Jayk slipped from behind her shield. "He… Zoombee is dead already… as we all are." The tiefling's voice had the desperate, soft quality of words that had misplaced their meaning. "But why should it matter to me? I… I do not fear death-or you."

  "Good, as it appears we are to wander together." Karfhud pulled his cracked lips back in a gruesome smirk. A few tendrils of Tessali's charred hand had gotten stuck between his fangs. "Let us leave on this instant; catching the bariaur will prove difficult enough without giving him more of a start." Hands

  Karfhud has led them back to the city of iron. Though thunder rolls somewhere in the distant sky, there is no hail to allay the scorching heat that pours off the rusty walls, nor steam to dampen the parching air that whispers down the crooked passages. The searing dryness draws beads of inky dew to the surface of the tiefling's dark complexion; the Thrasson's skin bums and itches and stays dry as salt; he has not lost a drop of fluid since striking his bargain with the fiend. That should worry him, but in truth he is relieved at this new harmony with heat. No longer does it sap his strength or make his joints ache, nor fill his mind with clouding steam; now it nourishes him, bums away his pain, even gorges his weary muscles with vigor long spent.

  Thus does the defilement begin, not with the terrible act itself, but with a gift, freely given, and the offer of more. There is no coercion, no force, no one to blame; the victim makes her choice, thinks she will be the smart one, the strong one, the lucky one who sees the brink looming ahead and… But another time, perhaps. This has nothing to do with the Thrasson, and he has come to a crossroads. One branch leads into a warren of narrow, crooked alleyways where the heat bends and blurs the air like poorly blown glass; the other runs only a few paces before intersecting an avenue so broad and inviting that the far wall seems but a mirage.

  Karfhud has stopped in the passage leading to the broad avenue, squatted down to scrape a circle of crusty brown mucilage off the paving bricks, licked the stuff from his black talon.

  "Elf." The fiend smacked his lips and, not rising, turned his head backward to stare at Jayk. "Did you not say Silverwind was returning to the ash maze?"

  Jayk nodded and stumbled one step back. "Silverwind, he says he needs Tessali's hands to fix things right. So they go back."

  The Amnesian Hero did not know whether Jayk had noticed Karfhud eating the charred hand earlier-or if she connected it with the elf – but he saw no use in pointing out the relationship now. She still seemed shocked by the Fiend's near-assault, and he did not want to do anything to make her more fearful of their new companion.

  Karfhud's maroon eyes continued to glare at Jayk from beneath his sagging brow, but he said nothing. The Amnesian Hero stepped forward, blocking the fiend's line of sight.

  "Stop staring. She answered your question."

  "I beg her forgiveness; it was not my intention to seem menacing." The shadow of a sneer flashed across Karfhud's muzzle. "I was only wondering why, if they wanted to return to the ash maze, they turned away from the entrance."

  "Silverwind, he does not know how to find it!" The quickness of Jayk's explanation betrayed her anxiety. "He said they could only-"

  "Turn around." Karfhud rose and bent his arms back to undo his satchel straps. "You, too, Thrasson."

  Jayk's hand dropped toward her dagger, her fear broadcast by a sharp intake of breath. The Amnesian Hero caught her wrist, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her around.

  "Don't worry. Karfhud's not going to hurt us."

  "How can you know that, Zoombee?"

  "Because if that was what he wanted, we would be…" The Thrasson almost said 'dead', then caught himself. Given Jayk's crisis of faith, it might be better not to talk about death. "Because if Karfhud wanted to hurt us, he would have done it by now."

  Behind them, there was a sharp thump as Karfhud dropped his satchel to the ground. Jayk flinched and would probably have taken off running, had the Thrasson's hand not been grasping her shoulder.

  "Zoombee, what is it he wants from us?" Jayk whispered, apparently forgetting that the fiend could hear every thought that flashed through her head. "It is not natural, this friendship he has made with you."

  "I'd hardly call it friendship!" It affronted the Amnesian Hero that Jayk could even think he would be friends with something so wicked as a tanar'ri. "It's more of an arrangement. He claims that all he wants is my sword."

  "And you believe him?"

  The Thrasson cringed, for that was the one question he had tried to avoid
asking himself until he could figure out how to shield his thoughts from Karfhud. Still, there was no use dodging it now; the answer had already flashed through his mind.

  "Only a fool would trust anything a tanar'ri says."

  The Amnesian Hero heard a soft shuffling sound, as though Karfhud were paging through a stack of parchment sheets.

  "Thrasson, you would be wise to keep your thoughts on the tiefling's question. I have warned you about my satchel."

  "I can't figure out what Karfhud really wants." The Amnesian Hero spoke rapidly, attempting to keep his curious mind from speculating about the shuffling sound. "If it was my sword, he could have had it easily enough. As weak as I was, he would not have had to trouble himself with killing me."

  "Then what he wants is something from you, Zoombee."

  From behind them came the soft rustle of a parchment being unrolled. Without even trying, the Amnesian Hero realized what the fiend had in his satchel: maps. A chill tickled down the Thrasson's spine, and he wondered if the realization would provoke Karfhud into attacking. He would have reached for his sword, save that he knew it would only slip from his hand.

  When no assault came, the Amnesian Hero dared to glance over his shoulder. As expected, he saw Karfhud kneeling over an unrolled parchment. The fiend had tongues of white flame flickering in the pupils of his maroon eyes, and he was glaring at the Thrasson. They locked gazes for an instant, then the tanar'ri returned his attention to his map.

  The Amnesian Hero looked back to Jayk. "Whatever Karfhud wants, I think it is from us. He seems rather determined to track down Silverwind and Tessali."

  "Yes, and is that not your fault as well?" Jayk pushed his arm off her shoulder. "Or maybe you think they deserve to have a fiend hunting them, yes?"

  "No!" he said. "Why would I think that?"

  "Because they abandoned your amphora, of course!" Jayk's voice became more shrill with each word. "What happened to Tessali, that does not matter to you! You only wanted him to save your amphora, even if it cost him his hands!"