The Gossamer Plain eo-1

by Thomas M. Reid

  Unlike any trees Vhok was familiar with, the things rising before him were formed of pure crystal.

  They appeared in numerous colors, with white, pink, and purple predominating. They stood perfectly rigid, bending not the slightest bit as the acrid breezes blew through them.

  Vhok approached the closest one and ran his hand along it. The razor-thin edge of the branch cut a perfect gash along his finger. The cambion jerked his hand back, swearing, as blood welled from the cut.

  "That seems to bode ill for us," Zasian remarked. "I can't imagine that Kurkle intended to bring us this way. How did he expect to get us through this?"

  "I don't know," Vhok replied, sucking on his finger. "Perhaps there is a trail to follow."

  "Ah, yes," the priest said, nodding. "Good thought. Let's use what little we have left of our aerial paths to seek one out. I'll head this way," he offered, rising into the sky as he moved down the shoreline, "and you go that way."

  Vhok moved back from the crystal trees and started off, using each step to climb higher into the sky as rapidly as he could. The cambion was soon puffing from the exertion, but he carried himself quite high above the world. He could see a good distance across the crystal forest, despite the haze and smoke. A dark line, unnaturally straight and cutting through the bizarre growth, caught his eye.

  "There!" he called out, turning to look toward Zasian.

  Three great flying things bore down on the priest, claws and beaks outstretched as though to rend him to bits.

  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 f
rom 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.