by Tim Waggoner
Haaken looked down at them, grinning with a maw full of shark teeth. "You don't know how good it feels to finally have a chance to pay the two of you back for wrecking my ship and stranding me on Demothi Island. I suppose I should thank you, though. If it wasn't for you, I'd never have become the magnificent creature I am today. I did manage to extract a bit of revenge on Trebaz Sinara, though." The wereshark focused his gaze on Diran. "It was no accident that I threw your werewolf friend at Asenka. She was a pain in my rump back when I was human, and I was glad to end her life. Her bones made such lovely snapping sounds when the wolf hit her, didn't they?"
Haaken laughed then, the sound hideous coming from his inhuman throat.
Ghaji saw Diran struggle to rise, an expression of mingled sorrow and fury on his face, but the priest was too injured to get up and slumped back down onto the dock.
"I was just going to kill the two of you," Haaken continued, "but now that I think of it, that would be too easy. Instead, I'm to give you each a little love nip. Just enough to draw blood-and pass along my gift to you. I think you'll eventually come to enjoy being weresharks. I know I love it."
Haaken started forward, mouth open wide-
"Get away from them!"
Haaken paused and turned to look at Tresslar. The artificer held forth the blackened dragonwand, the Amahau pointed directly at the wereshark.
"Take another step and I destroy you!"
"Don't bluff, old man," Haaken growled. "If that thing still worked, you'd have used it already." The wereshark looked back down at Ghaji and Diran. "You two aren't going anywhere soon. I'll wet my appetite for you by slaying the old man first."
Haaken turned back to Tresslar and began to advance on the artificer. Tresslar held his ground, but Ghaji could see that the dragonwand was shaking in the artificer's hand. Tresslar had been bluffing, and now that Haaken had called his bluff, it appeared that the artificer had run out of tricks.
"I don't suppose you're going to give me a chance to say any last words?" Tresslar said, backing up slowly.
"Why should I?" Haaken snarled.
"Pity," Tresslar said. "Because if you did, I'd say, 'Look out.'"
Haaken scowled and spun just in time to see a strange creature-part wolf and part shark-leaping at him.
Diran watched as Leontis-at least, he assumed the hybrid monster was his old friend-tore into Haaken with a savage fury that was both wonderful and terrible to behold. Leontis knocked Haaken onto the dock and clawed at his chest with his hands, ripped at his belly with his feet, and ravaged his neck and face with his teeth. Haaken screamed as his blood fountained into the air and his viscera spilled onto the dock. Diran knew that Haaken was no longer a threat to them, so he turned his attention to Nathifa.
The priest didn't know what was happening inside the lich, but from the way her shadowy form was shaking, he assumed that Makala was doing something to attack the sorceress from within. Nathifa couldn't drain Makala's lifeforce, since she was a vampire and thus undead, but Makala couldn't hope to do any lasting damage to the lich, since the only way to slay her kind was to locate and destroy the phylactery in which she'd stored her essence. The best Makala could hope for was a stalemate, but even weakened as Nathifa surely was from the effort of casting her summoning spell, she was still a powerful sorceress, and Diran knew it was only a matter of time until Nathifa bested Makala. Diran hadn't driven the dark spirit from Makala's body only to abandon her now. He had to do something, and he had to do it fast.
He struggled to rise up on his left elbow, ignoring the throbbing in his skull, and the resulting wave of nausea that twisted his gut. He knew he had a severe head injury, but he couldn't afford to waste the time it would take to heal himself. He could tend to his wounds later-after Nathifa was defeated once and for all.
Diran retained his grip on the silver arrowhead. He held it lightly between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and, though it wasn't a dagger, he'd sharpened its edges, and Nathifa's transformation into a giant tentacled monster had made her a satisfyingly large target.
Diran whispered a quick prayer and hurled the holy symbol toward Nathifa. The silver arrowhead spun through the air, struck the lich's ebon substance, and passed into her darkness.
Perhaps it hadn't been the most skillful throw he'd ever made, Diran thought, but he'd take it.
Nathifa felt Makala, in humanoid form now, clawing at her from the inside. The lich wished she had never transported the vampire within her body on Trebaz Sinara, for surely that had given the woman the notion to attack this way. Normally, Makala's efforts to harm her would have been laughable, but Nathifa's power had been greatly diminished by the events of the last several days, and it was taking her longer to muster the strength to deal with the vampire than she would've liked-especially considering the fact that Prince Moren had arrived to claim his due. If she were to have any hope of slaying Bastiaan and the others, she had to deal with Makala swiftly.
She felt a small sharp-edged object slice into her. Not only was the damnable thing fashioned from silver, it also bore a holy blessing, imparted by Bastiaan, no doubt. The object burned like white fire inside of Nathifa, causing so much agony that she could no longer hold onto Makala. She ejected the vampire from her dark substance and flung Makala onto the dock. The woman landed near the priest and his half-orc companion, but Nathifa had no more attention to give the vampire. She had to expel the silver object from her body before-
She sensed tendrils of green mist curl onto the dock, stretch toward the ebon tentacles that supported her, and gently, almost lovingly brush against her dark substance.
Her time was up.
In his quarters aboard the Ship of Bones, Prince Moren sat in a chair fashioned from the unfulfilled dreams of dead sailors. Resting before him atop a table made from memories of regret and betrayal was the obsidian skull named Espial. Nathifa had bartered the skull in order to obtain the material she needed to repair her damaged vessel, and Moren had agreed not to leave Espial alone for a short time to give the lich an opportunity to achieve her vengeance. Moren had kept his word. He hadn't laid a finger on the skull, though that hadn't stopped him from examining it in other ways. It was a most intriguing object. The lich used it to communicate with Vol-or rather the Lich Queen used it to pass along her orders to Nathifa. But Espial served a dual purpose: it was also the lich's phylactery.
Prince Moren reached out and lifted Espial off the table. The skull was about to serve a third purpose. Nathifa's lifeforce was contained inside, and Moren-like the rest of his cursed crew-fed on the life essence of others. And the Prince was hungry.
Moren raised the skull to his mouth and, as if Espial were nothing more than a piece of rotten fruit, he pressed his decayed teeth onto its obsidian surface and bit down hard.
He chewed, swallowed, and grinned as black juice dribbled over his dry, leathery lips and onto the exposed bone of his chin. Delicious.
He took another bite.
Nathifa screamed.
But not for very long.
Diran watched as the lich's form broke apart into scraps of shadow that swirled about like black leaves before dissipating like smoke. He didn't know how-his arrowhead certainly hadn't done the deed-but he knew that Nathifa had been destroyed. Tresslar rushed to Diran's side and helped him to a sitting position. The priest looked out over the bay. The greenish mist that had covered the water was receding, and Diran could sense the presence of an evil much greater than Nathifa withdrawing. He was too hurt to worry about it now. Whatever the mist was, and whatever role it had played in the events here tonight would have to remain a mystery for the time being. Diran had more important tasks to tend to. He placed his hand over his heart, closed his eyes, and willed the healing power of the Silver Flame to work its divine magic through him. He then repeated the procedure for Ghaji, and when both men were whole and healthy once more, Tresslar helped them both to stand.
Makala stood on the dock, gazing out to the sea. Diran didn't kn
ow what she was looking at, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He turned to Leontis, fearing they would still have a battle on their hands if the lycanthropic priest remained in the grip of a killing frenzy. But Leontis stood apart from Haaken's ravaged body. He was covered with blood, but he was human once again, his fury spent. Without speaking, Diran, Ghaji, and Tresslar walked over to examine Haaken. Makala joined them a moment later.
Haaken had also returned to human form, but he was a grisly sight. His chest and abdomen had been ripped open, ribs broken, internal organs shredded or torn out and cast aside by Leontis in his bestial fury. There was blood everywhere, and Haaken was covered in it, so much so that his skin looked black in the moonlight. But even mutilated as he was, Haaken was not dead.
Haaken coughed, and a froth of blood oozed from between his lips. Then he spoke in a gurgling, wet whisper.
"I can… already feel myself… healing." He coughed again and swallowed. "Hurts. But… I can take it. I'm… going to kill every last one of you… bastards."
Ghaji had retrieved his axe, and with a thought he caused its flame to ignite. "Big talk from a man who's been gutted like a fish. Since Leontis has already gone to the trouble to fillet you, maybe I should go ahead and cook you." Ghaji started forward, but Diran placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him.
"Fire won't kill him, Ghaji. You know that."
"Maybe not normally," the half-orc growled. "But wounded as he is, flame just might kill him. Let's try it and see." He glared at Haaken. "If nothing else, it'll make me feel better."
Diran shook his head. "There's only one way to be sure." The priest walked over to the statue of Nerthatch and gripped the hilt of the silver dagger protruding from the chest. He pulled, and though the dagger was wedged tight, Diran managed to work it free. He then walked over to Haaken and stood by the lycanthrope's side. Haaken's heart was visible, and though it had several large gashes in it, the organ continued to beat, and Diran could see that the gashes were already beginning to heal over.
"Are you going to… stab me?" Haaken asked. His voice had grown stronger and steadier in the few moments since he'd last spoken. "Coward!" Haaken spat a gob of bloody sputum at Diran, but it fell far short of hitting the priest.
"Go ahead, Diran," Ghaji said. "If he heals, he'll just go on killing. Worse, he'll spread his infection to others. He doesn't deserve to live. He's just another damned monster."
Diran looked at Haaken, then he looked at Leontis, and finally at Makala. He remembered what Leontis had told him during the voyage from Trebaz Sinara.
You are Purified, a servant of the Flame, and a force for Good in a world that sorely needs people like you. Don't let your grief turn you back into a heartless killer.
"Let the city watch or the Sea Dragons decide what to do with him," Diran said. "I've had enough of death for a while." He turned his back on Haaken and started to walk away, but Makala took hold of his wrist and stopped him.
Diran turned to her, a questioning look on his face. She reached out and gently took the dagger from his hand. As soon as her flesh came in contact with the silver hilt, her hand began to sizzle and smoke, but she gritted her teeth and held onto the blade. She stepped over to Haaken's side, knelt down, and plunged the blade into his heart. Haaken's eyes went wide and he let out a last gasp as he died.
Makala stood and turned back to Diran.
"I never did like the son of a whore."
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Ten days later, in the hour just before dawn, the companions once more stood upon Regalport's central dock. A longboat was moored on the dock's northern side, and the Turnabout, whole and hardy once more, floated out in the middle of the bay. Onu, wearing his human shape and clad in his signature crimson jacket, stood gazing at the northern horizon.
"Looks like we're going to have good sailing weather today," the changeling said. He glanced at Hinto for confirmation, and the halfling nodded.
Diran smiled. "It seems as if you're well on your way to becoming a true seaman, Onu."
Onu reached down and patted Hinto on the back. "My recent gains in nautical knowledge are due entirely to the tutelage of my new first mate."
"Do you really think you'll be able to pay off Thokk's debt?" Ghaji asked. "From what you've told us, he spoke little about it to you. Do you even know where to start?"
Onu shrugged. "As to whether or not I'll succeed, only the gods of fortune may say. But I must try." The changeling smiled. "It's my own debt to Thokk, you see. We'll return to Kolbyr and begin there. Thokk did a great deal of business in that city, and perhaps there are some there who knew him better than I. At any rate, it seems a logical place to start." The changeling looked at Tresslar and smiled. "Besides, I have a passenger to conduct there."
The artificer looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Even with the aid of the best artificers in Regalport, I haven't made much progress cleansing the Amahau of the taint it incurred when I used it to drain the mystic energy from the statue of Nerthatch. But I believe there's a chance that the magic of Illyia's water spheres might prove effective where other approaches have failed. Water does have inherent cleansing properties, you know, and if I can adapt her spheres-"
"You want to do a lot more to her spheres than adapt them," Hinto said, grinning.
Tresslar scowled at the halfling, but then he just shrugged and smiled sheepishly.
"I think it's sweet," Yvka said. "But be wary. I've managed to convince the Hierarchs of House Thuranni to… table their interest in the Amahau, especially now that it's been tainted. But if you do manage to repair the wand, the Hierarchs might decide to renew their interest in obtaining it."
"I'll be careful, Yvka," Tresslar said. "Thanks for the warning."
The elf-woman turned to Solus. "The Hierarchs are still most interested in obtaining your services, though. While they've abandoned the idea of doing so through force or trickery, they've authorized me to make an offer of employment to you, and the compensation would be most handsome indeed."
"Please thank the Hierarchs for me, Yvka, but I must decline. The uses House Thuranni would put me to would be no different that what Aldarik Cathmore and Galharath would've done with me. Though I was given life some time ago, I have only recently begun to learn what it means to truly live. I believe I can continue to best do that be remaining my own person. I hope you understand."
Yvka smiled. "I do indeed, my friend. I not only understand your decision, I applaud it."
"Besides, Solus is going with us," Hinto said. "I'm going to teach him to be a sailor."
"I find the open sea calming," Solus said. "The thoughts of its denizens are simple and unclouded by negative emotions like deceit and greed."
"You've never run into any pirates," Tresslar muttered.
"I fully understand what Solus means," Leontis said, looking toward the eastern horizon. "The world below the waves is a very different place from the world of land, air, and sun. It has its own rhythms of life, rules of existence, and codes of behavior. In many ways it's a much harsher world than this one, but it's more honest as well."
There was nothing else to do then than to say farewell to those who were bound for the Turnabout. Words were exchanged, as well as handshakes and hugs. Then Onu, Hinto, Tresslar, and Solus boarded the longboat. The halfling untied the mooring lines, and the psiforged used his telekinetic powers to back the boat away from the dock.
Onu called out, "Good sailing to us all!" Then Solus propelled the longboat across the bay toward the waiting elemental galleon. It didn't take long for the party to board the vessel, and the ship set sail soon afterward. The remaining companions watched as their friends sailed out of Regalport's bay. The vessel looked like a normal galleon, but that was just its illusion in effect. Once out to sea, Onu would order the air elementals to be activated, and the ship would head off at full speed toward Kolbyr.
"I'm surprised the shipwrights were able to repair the Turnabout in such a short time," Ghaji said. "Actually, given
the severity of the damage she sustained, it's a wonder they even tried."
"Prince Ryger was most grateful for our efforts to stop the wereshark invasion," Diran said. "I imagine he instructed the shipwrights to make every effort to do the job as quickly as possible."
Yvka smiled. "Or else."
Diran had mixed feelings about the aftermath of the wereshark invasion. Solus had managed to drive off the weresharks that Nathifa had summoned, but the monsters had killed many of Regalport's citizens before fleeing. The lycanthropes had infected many more, and Prince Ryger had ordered those now cursed with the taint of the wereshark to be rounded up and imprisoned. Ryger had wanted to execute them, though the Prince took no joy in the thought, but Diran had talked him out of it. The goal was to prevent the newly infected lycanthropes from slaying anyone or further spreading their contagion, not to kill them for possessing an affliction over which they had no control. It wasn't a satisfying solution, but it would have to do. Diran remembered once more Tusya's words: Sometimes cold comfort is the only kind we get in this life.
So true.
"It is time that I take my leave as well," Leontis said.
Diran turned to his friend, surprised by his fellow priest's pronouncement. "I take it you no longer wish me to kill you?"
Leontis smiled. "Perhaps another day. I've spent much time over the last ten days exploring my new abilities and trying to decide what, if anything, I should do with them. I meant what I said earlier about the sea, Diran. It's… different there. Good and Evil still exist, of course, but the expressions they take are unique to their world. Perhaps I have been cursed, but what I choose to do with that curse is up to me. Look at you. You were born with a talent for knife work that borders on genius. You were sold into slavery, raised by a brotherhood of assassins, and implanted with an evil spirit to make certain you remained cruel and heartless. You've since managed to put that dark past behind you and dedicate your life to helping others, but instead of discarding your knowledge of the art of killing, you now use your skills in service of the Silver Flame. You've taught me that it's possible to employ darkness in the fight against Evil. Perhaps I am no longer one of the Purified, but that doesn't mean I still can't fight for the Flame in my own way."