Pages of Pain p-1

by Troy Denning

  This was the first the Amnesian Hero had heard about how the elf lost his hands or what had happened to the amphora. The Thrasson had avoided asking about the matter, fearing his questions would further disrupt Jayk's fragile state. He took no comfort in knowing he had been right.

  "Jayk, I don't blame Tessali for losing the amphora." He clasped the tiefling by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. "I don't blame you, either. When the monster came…"

  "What monster? It was the Lady! You go off to chase your wine woman and leave us to save your amphora from the Lady of Pain!" Jayk spat at his feet. "I spit on your amphora; it is your own fault if you lose it!"

  Though the tiefling's version of events did not match the evidence the Amnesian Hero had found in the blind, he thought it wisest not to press the matter. "Jayk, if the Lady came while I was gone, I'm sorry-but I don't blame anyone for leaving the amphora. I came to Sigil to deliver it to her. Don't you remember?"

  The tiefling's jaw dropped, then she took a sharp breath and allowed her eyes to roll up. "Yes… I forget!"

  "Be that as it may, Thrasson," said Karfhud, still speaking from behind them, "it surprises me to hear you lying. You and I both know the amphora was-"

  "That's enough!" The Amnesian Hero released Jayk and turned to glare at the fiend. "Jayk's right No matter what happened to the amphora, I have no one to blame but myself."

  A deep chuckle rumbled from Karfhud's throat. "Come now, Thrasson. You know it is no good to swallow your feelings! The amphora was your best hope of learning who you are, and now you feel betrayed because your companions abandoned it."

  "Zoombee! This is true?" Jayk's pupils were elongating into diamonds, and her fangs were folding down from the roof of her mouth. "When you reach the One Death, you will have no use for memories!"

  "Calm yourself, Jayk," said the Amnesian Hero.

  He began to back away, casting an angry glance past the tiefling toward Karfhud, who was laughing so hard that his face had melted into an undulating mass of wrinkles.

  "There is a difference between sentiment and reason," the Thrasson continued. "I am disappointed, but…"

  Jayk leapt, fangs bared and hands clawing at his face.

  The Thrasson sidestepped her rush, at the same time curling his hands into fists. He was spared the necessity of knocking the tiefling unconscious when Karfhud caught her from behind.

  "That is enough, Little Shadow!" The fiend lifted her off the ground, still cackling in delight. "I cannot let you bite the Thrasson! He and I have sworn an oath of blood."

  Instantly, Jayk went as still as a statue-save for her trembling muscles and her quivering lip.

  "There," said Karfhud. "It always helps to understand the situation completely, does it not?"

  Saying nothing more, the tanar'ri put Jayk down and returned to his maps.

  The tiefling remained very still until her pupils had become round again, then fixed an angry glare on the Thrasson's face. "What were you thinking, Zoombee, to lead a tanar'ri back to us?" She jerked her chin back over her shoulder, though she was careful to avoid actually looking in the fiend's direction. "You will discover what he wants before he finds it, yes?"

  "What I want is to save your friends." Karfhud's parchment rattled as he rolled it up. "And, at the moment, the reason is not so important as the need to hurry. If Sheba-"

  "Who?" the Amnesian Hero asked.

  "The queen of the labyrinth-the one who attacked you and your companions," Karfhud said. "If Sheba took the amphora-"

  "No, I told you!" Jayk whirled around. "It was the Lady who came for it!"

  The Amnesian Hero turned to see Karfhud stuffing the rolled parchment down among the many dozens in his satchel. The tanar'ri had apparently resigned himself to letting the pair in on his secret, for he showed no irritation at having the contents viewed – which worried the Thrasson more than any fiendish glowering would have. The tanar'ri would not take them into his confidence unless he meant to kill them later.

  If Karfhud was aware of the Thrasson's thoughts, his disfigured face did not betray it as he fixed his attention on Jayk. "It may have been the Lady who chased you and the others away from the amphora, but it was someone much larger who took it" The fiend pulled the satchel drawstrings tight and, with a clumsy flutter of his blight-gnarled talons, knotted them closed. "We found a pair of large depressions where someone had kneeled to pick up the amphora – and, as I'm sure you know, the Lady of Pain leaves no sign of her passing."

  When Jayk made no further protests, Karfhud hoisted his satchel onto his back and began buckling the straps. "If I am guessing correctly, this Silverwind intends to follow the Great Way down to the alley of the ash window-"

  "Ash window?" asked the Thrasson.

  "Surely, you remember it? You had to go through it to reach the maze of ash I"

  The Amnesian Hero nodded. "Silverwind called it a conjunction."

  "That is a peculiar way to describe it." Karfhud's folded brow dipped in the middle, then he shook his head. "But it matters not; it is more important that they are likely to meet Sheba coming the other way. You must catch up to them before she does-then stop her."

  "Why us?" Jayk demanded. The prospect of confronting the monster again seemed to make her less afraid of the fiend. "What about you?"

  The tanar'ri bared a long row of fangs. "I will be behind her." He pointed up the short alley toward the broad avenue. "When you reach the Great Way, you must see it as a straight line. Ignore the corners, whichever way they turn, and count only the intersections. Go down twenty-eight alleys, counting only those on your right, and turn into the twenty-ninth-which will be on your left. Go down this lane until you reach a 'T' and turn to the left, then go eleven more intersections, counting only those on the left, and turn into the twelfth, which will be on the right. The fourth window on the left leads to the ash maze, but by then you will meet either Sheba or me."

  "What if we lose our way?" asked Jayk.

  "Then I will be very angry-but you may always summon me by speaking my name." The tanar'ri looked to the Amnesian Hero. "Repeat my directions."

  "Count twenty-eight alleys on the right and enter the twenty-ninth, which will be on the left. Follow it to a 'T' and turn left, then count eleven passages on the left and turn into the twelfth, which will be on the right. The fourth window on the left leads to the ash maze, but we don't really need to know that. By then, we will either be dead or reunited with you."

  Karfhud nodded approvingly. "For a man who cannot recall his own name, you have a most excellent memory."

  "I suppose that is because it is not cluttered," the Thrasson said. "But I do have a question."

  "You may ask."

  The Amnesian Hero looked up the passage toward the broad avenue. "Do we turn left or right onto the Great Way?"

  Karfhud scowled. "Which way do you think?" He turned away, entering the hot, crooked alleys that opened beside them. "Left!"

  The fiend departed at a lope, leaving the Amnesian Hero alone with Jayk and his instructions. The Thrasson started up the alley, clumping half a dozen paces before he noticed the tiefling was not following. He stopped and looked back to see her studying the direction from which they had just come.

  "Jayk?"

  The tiefling glanced at him only briefly, her eyes filled with fear, then looked back the way she had been staring. For a moment, the Thrasson thought she would bolt, but then her shoulders slumped and she started up the alley toward him.

  "Zoombee, how does he know?"

  "Know what, Jayk?"

  "That we will do what he orders." She passed the Amnesian Hero without stopping, then stepped into the Great Way. "I think we will never be free of him."

  Her name is not Sheba, of course. Karfhud calls her that because she reminds him of a succubus who once bested him in the fray. But the monster of the labyrinth has no name; she would not even understand what a name is, for it is beyond her to think of others apart from herself. She is like Silverw
ind that way-or any of us, if we look deeply enough – except that she never despairs, and that makes her ever so much stronger-strong enough, even, to defeat a tanar'ri lord.

  That is what the Amnesian Hero is thinking as he clumps down the Great Way, trying to keep pace with Jayk. Unlike the tiefling, he is losing his fear of Karfhud, for he has begun to understand what the tanar'ri wants from them. For centuries – it has been millennia, but no mortal can truly conceive of such a time – for countless ages, the fiend has been lost in the labyrinths. The Thrasson is no tanar'ri, but he knows enough about the wicked race to understand that to a powerful lord like Karfhud, being trapped is less an abuse than not being master of the prison.

  What the fiend wants is to kill the monster. The Thrasson begins to form his plan; he is thinking of the amphora, of course, and of Karfhud's maps, and he is wise enough to know that the tanar'ri knows what he is thinking. But there will be a battle, and battles breed confusion, and when the confusion passes, it will be the one who still stands that has the amphora and the maps and his life.

  And so, leaving it to Jayk to ignore the comers and see the Great Way as a straight line and count the alleys on the right and guide them into the twenty-ninth on the left, the Amnesian Hero plots and schemes and falls so deeply into thought that he does not notice as Jayk guides them to the left at the "T" intersection, and he does not mark the growing ramble of thunder or the rising steam-laden breeze, and he does not hear the clatter of galloping hooves reverberating off the iron walls, or heed even the monster's sonorous roar until it breaks over the maze like Hephaestus's mighty hammer knelling upon its anvil.

  By the time the Amnesian Hero has realized what is happening and draws his sword, Silverwind has rounded the corner ahead at a full gallop. With Tessali's gruesome stumps wrapped around his waist and the roar of a hailstorm echoing close on his tail, the bariaur glances at Jayk and the Thrasson only briefly, as though he has expected all along to meet them in precisely that spot, and continues on.

  "Flee for your lives!" Silverwind veered toward one side of the passage. "Oh, I have recalled you at a bad time!"

  "The monster's hard behind us!" Tessali looked far too frightened to be surprised by the Amnesian Hero's return. "Run!"

  Seeing that there was no time to convince his companions to stay and fight, the Amnesian Hero extended his brick foot and caught Silverwind's front hooves. The bariaur bleated and pitched forward, then he and Tessali bounced off the hot iron wall and went tumbling across the bricks together.

  "Zoombee?" Jayk sounded more curious than alarmed. "Why do you-"

  The Amnesian Hero pushed her behind him. "Prepare your spells – and tell Silverwind to do the same." A cloud of rust-colored steam boiled around the corner ahead, followed closely by a wall of driving hail. "Maybe you have something to clear the storm?"

  Behind him rose Tessali's voice, groaning and cursing the Thrasson for a menace and a berk. The Amnesian Hero ignored the insults and clumped forward, veering toward the inside wall of the comer. He knew better than to think he would surprise the monster – Sheba was much too cunning to round a blind corner on the inside – but he only needed to stall her long enough for Karfhud to arrive.

  The Amnesian Hero stopped two paces shy of the comer. He took his sword in both hands and pressed as close to the scorching iron as he could bear. Behind him, his companions, mere silhouettes in the curtain of hail, were standing close together. Both Jayk and Silverwind were fumbling for spell components, but their attention seemed alarmingly divided. Tessali was leaning across the bariaur's back, gesturing wildly with his wrist stumps and hurling questions at Jayk. The tiefling shrugged and shook her head in disavowal, less concerned with the coming battle than with appeasing the elf. She was still in shock from Karfhud's attack; certainly, she would never have worried about such a thing before.

  The Amnesian Hero felt a cold prickle between his shoulder blades. He looked across the passage to see an ice-gray blur rounding the comer. Her long mats of fur rendered her almost invisible in the driving hail; she seemed a mere deepening of the storm, a ghostly mass drifting slowly forward through the orange steam. Only the neck of the amphora, protruding on the far side of her body, looked at all solid.

  The Thrasson cursed his bad luck that the jar was on the other side of the monster, then sprang across the passage to slash at Sheba's leg. If he could strike her lame, he would be free to stall until Karfhud arrived to finish the kill. After that, surviving-and laying claim to the fiend's maps – would become a simple matter of keeping his head while the tanar'ri and the monster killed each other.

  The Amnesian Hero thumped down beside Sheba, his star-forged blade already biting into her leg. In the next instant, a deafening bellow reverberated down the iron passage, then a huge hand came from nowhere to crash into the Thrasson's shoulder. He lost his sword and went tumbling across the bricks and, three somersaults later, slammed into a scorching wall. There was a loud sizzle and the smell of burnt flesh, yet the Amnesian Hero felt only a faint nettling where his bare flesh touched the blistering metal. He pushed off the wall and tumbled to his knees, then found himself staring up at a curtain of matted fur. A huge, black-taloned mitt was reaching down to clutch him.

  The Amnesian Hero ducked his shoulder and rolled, only to have Sheba pivot around before he could get his feet under him. He glimpsed a stripe of oozing black sap where his star-forged blade had bit into the knee, but the limb appeared discouragingly whole. He saw no sign of his weapon; the sword lay lost somewhere in the steam. The monster reached for him again, and the Thrasson began to wonder if his companions had abandoned him.

  "Jayk?"

  His scream was answered by the hail-muffled syllables of the tiefling's incantation. A pair of yellow streaks flashed through the orange steam, pulsing into the monster's shoulder, then bursting in a spray of golden light and silver fur. Sheba grunted and stumbled a single step back.

  The Amnesian Hero crab-scrambled around behind the monster, frantically sweeping his hands across the bricks in search of his sword-and hoping he would not find it by slicing his fingers off. Sheba gave a baffled growl, then her head began to pendulum back and forth as she searched for him.

  Silverwind cast his spell, filling the passage with a booming incantation even louder than the pounding hail. A roaring wind came blasting down the corridor to sweep the steam around the comer and blow the hailstorm back the way it had come.

  When the tempest cleared, Sheba was staring directly at the Thrasson's sword, which lay less than three paces in front of her foot. The Amnesian Hero, slightly behind her and off to one side, found himself well beyond the limit of her peripheral vision – at least that was what he hoped. The amphora was tucked beneath the monster's arm on his side of her body. He considered trying to knock it free and dive for his sword, but decided that he had a better chance of getting stuck in her gummy fur than coming up with either his weapon or the jar.

  The monster pivoted, her head tipped forward to search for her foe. The Amnesian Hero started to crab-walk around behind her, hoping to complete the circle and grab his sword – and that was when he noticed a huge black shadow slipping around the comer.

  At last.

  The Amnesian Hero let his brick foot clatter on the ground behind the monster, then he threw himself in the opposite direction, diving for his sword. Sheba was already spinning; her talons raked furrows of cold pain down his spine, but he was much lower than she had expected and going in the opposite direction. He belly-flopped onto the bricks and crawled to his sword, then whirled onto his mangled back, bringing the blade around just in case she attacked him instead of switching to Karfhud,

  Sheba was nowhere in sight.

  The Thrasson found himself staring directly up at the fiend, whose smoldering eyes were focused somewhere up the passage. The Amnesian Hero rolled once more and saw the monster, with the amphora tucked beneath her arm, loping past his companions. They were so terrified that they did not seem to notice their
backs pressed tight against the scorching iron walls. The Thrasson hoisted himself to his feet and clumped up the corridor in his best imitation of a sprint. Karfhud's massive hand caught him by the shoulder. "It is too late." The evenness of the fiend's tone was surprising; certainly, the mind-reading tanar'ri knew how the Thrasson had tried to play Sheba off against him, yet his voice betrayed no ill will. "Now we must do this the hard way."

  "Do what the hard way?" the Amnesian Hero asked.

  "Only what we both wish to do – hunt down Sheba."

  Karfhud watched the monster disappear around a comer, then turned his gaze upon Tessali and Silverwind. The pair were staring at him and looking even more frightened than they had when Sheba was chasing them.

  "But first, Thrasson, we must do something about your brick foot," said Karfhud. "We will both need to be at our best Call your friends; they will be of use."

  "You won't hurt them?"

  Karfhud shook his head. "I told you, they will be of use."

  Thus reassured, more or less, the Amnesian Hero waved his companions down the passage. Led by Jayk, they approached to within a few paces and stopped. Silverwind promptly began to chastise himself for failing to retain better control over his evil side.

  "We are all tired." Karfhud spoke over Silverwind's rantings, at once silencing the old cleric and taking command of the little company. "We will rest here."

  Always one to challenge another's authority, Tessali shook his head. "We must reach the ash maze as quickly as possible." He raised his arms, displaying the bandaged wrist stumps. "My hands were cut off, and we must-"

  "Your hands are not there. I have already eaten one." Karfhud reached into his back satchel and produced the elf's remaining hand. "And I fear your tiefling friend overcooked the other one."

  Tessali stared at the charred hand for a full twenty heartbeats before uttering a sound. Then he let out such a shriek that it sounded as though he was dying of shock. At length, it became clear that he was actually screeching a question.