Masquerades h-10

by Kate Novak

  "Victor, are you going to wait for those things to draw first blood before you come to your senses?" the swordswoman asked, pointing to the mists swirling about the nobleman. "Let Thistle open the portal so we can get out of here before we're eaten alive."

  "I am not some foolish peasant you can deceive with your adventurer faerie tales," Victor snapped. "It is just mist." A strand of mist swirled about the nobleman's head. Victor swatted at it irritably, then tried to back away from it. His eyes widened, and Alias saw fear in them. He seemed to be struggling to move.

  It was Thistle who verbalized the problem. "My legs!" she shrieked. "Something's holding on to my legs!"

  Victor let out a scream as though he'd been hurt. He released Thistle and slashed with his dagger at the mists about his legs.

  Alias seized the opportunity. She threw herself at Thistle and managed to jerk the girl away from both Victor and whatever was holding her. The swordswoman and noblewoman tumbled backward on the floor. They came to their feet, choking on the mist, but free of Dhostar.

  Dragonbait moved forward to help the nobleman, but Victor straightened, thrusting out his dagger to warn him back.

  The paladin snarled and stepped back. The mist still seemed to be evading him, so Alias pushed Thistle in his direction. Then she turned to deal with Victor. The nobleman backed away, apparently having stabbed to death whatever had hindered his movement. There was blood on his hands and dagger, but some of it, Alias suspected, was the nobleman's own. "Victor, we can't stay here any longer. Give Thistle the key," she ordered. Victor smiled coldly. "Not a chance," he said.

  "Victor, we could be swarming in manes any minute. We can't fight them all. We'll die. You'll die."

  "You've destroyed everything I have worked years for. At least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I had my vengeance on you, bitch."

  Alias shook with fury. She drew her sword and took a step in his direction. "You can give me that key, or I can slice you in half and loot it from your body."

  Victor pulled the feather brooch from the pocket of his robe and held it up. Alias reached her hand out. The nobleman laughed, and flung the brooch away. The piece of jewelry arced over Dragonbait and Thistle and disappeared into the mists. It made a tiny clatter when it hit the floor.

  "You've gone mad," Alias growled. To Dragonbait and Thistle she said, "You'd better start looking for it. Hurry. I'll keep Dhostar still." She raised the tip of her sword to the nobleman's throat.

  Dragonbait took Thistle's hand and led her in the direction Victor had thrown the brooch. "Maybe you should give them a hand," Victor joked. Alias kept her sword leveled at the villain's throat.

  "Then again," the nobleman said with a smirk, "I don't suppose that will be necessary anymore." Behind her Alias heard a hiss, then a growl. Alias whirled around and backed up quickly so that Victor would be at her left hand instead of her back. Advancing toward her was a halfiing-sized creature with pale white skin, a bloated torso, and razor-sharp claws and teeth. Pus dripped from its mindless white eyes.

  Alias waited until the mane was just within reach of her sword. With a single stroke, she cleaved the Abyssal creature in two, and it dissipated back into a stinking mist. Alias gagged from the stench. "My, how valorous," Victor taunted.

  Alias did not reply. Her attention was focused on the hoard of creatures rising from the mists, all as disgusting as the first. Ten, twenty, thirty, she counted to herself, knowing there would be more.

  "Too bad it's vaporized," the noble continued. "You could have had it mounted-show off your-" Victor went silent. Alias sensed the nobleman backing away.

  "Dhostar, stay at my back," she barked. "It's our only chance."

  Whether Victor chose to abandon the swordswoman or simply panicked, Alias would never know. Whichever it was, the nobleman turned and ran. Alias glanced over her shoulder and saw him trip and fall into the mist.

  More manes rose up, surrounding the downed noble, then leaped upon him, rending his flesh with their claws and teeth. Alias had turned away to keep her eyes on the larger hoard of manes approaching her, but Victor's screams filled the air all around the swordswoman. The nobleman's death gave her no satisfaction, but neither did she feel any regret.

  With ice in her heart, she charged a flank of the manes, swinging her sword fast and hard, felling instantly each creature she struck. They were not tremendously powerful monsters, but Alias knew better than to be heartened by her victories. They could reform again within a day. The real strength of manes, however, lay in their numbers and their mindless compulsion to attack regardless of any danger to themselves. It was only a matter of time before enough manes formed to overwhelm her. She could choke on the poisonous vapors of their dissipating corpses, or slip on a patch of their slick blood and find herself beneath a mound of their bodies, or just grow exhausted and fall unconscious.

  The longer she kept the monsters interested in herself, though, the longer Dragonbait and Thistle would have to find the feather brooch so they could escape.

  As the manes closed in on her, Alias worked at felling their flanks so that she could not be surrounded. She was beginning to regret that they did not remain corporeal. She could have used their bodies to make a defensive wall.

  In the nightmare of endless slaughter Alias began to lose track of time. A few of the beasts had managed to evade her sword long enough to slash at her back and arms or sink their teeth into her legs. The wounds were all minor, but they burned like fire. She tried not to think about how much she was bleeding.

  Then came the moment she knew she was doomed. Her legs would not move-something held them frozen. She slashed downward with her sword, but the blade thunked against something hard at her hips. She looked down to find herself encased, just as the shard of Verovan's soul had been, by the mist of unformed manes, which had hardened into a pearl-like shell.

  The swordswoman switched her weapon from hand to hand, trying to keep the manes from reaching either side of her body, but she was blind at her back. One of the monsters sunk its teeth into the back of her neck, and it took her several awkward stabs before she managed to dislodge it. "Alias!" Dragonbait shouted.

  Alias twisted her head, her heart pounding with hope at the sound of the paladin's call.

  The paladin came rushing toward her, his sword blazing with fire, cutting down manes like a farmer scything hay. Once at her side, he wheeled to protect her back. "We found the key and opened the portal. I sent Thistle out. I think the sooner we leave, the better." "I'm stuck," Alias explained, "like the piece of Verovan's soul."

  Dragonbait tapped on the casing about the swordswoman's legs.

  "I didn't know manes could go hard like this," Alias said.

  "The manes that make up this mist are not like ordinary manes. This planar pocket, or the years they spent trapped in here away from the Abyss, has altered them," Dragonbait said. He smashed his'sword against the casing, without effect. The scent of violets wafted from the saurial's throat-the scent of his fear.

  "Alias, listen carefully," the paladin ordered. "These manes are hungry for more than your flesh. They want to devour your essence-your spirit and your soul. But they can only do that if they can find a weakness-" The paladin paused to slash through another wave of manes, then continued. They look for open wounds on your soul and spirit and drink from them like flies. You have to rid yourself of those things that make you bleed inside-"

  "What's going on?" Mintassan's voice called out. The sage was drifting across the mists, flying just high enough to remain out of reach of the manes. "Lady Thistle's outside, holding the portal open. She said you might need some help." "Can you teleport us out of here?" Alias asked.

  "Afraid not-something in the makeup of this plane resists alteration magic," the sage explained. Upon spying the shell surrounding Alias's legs, he gave a low whistle. "That looks bad. Perhaps it can be dispelled," he suggested.

  Dragonbait shook his head. "It's not magical. It would be more use if you could circle us
with protection from evil," he said.

  The sage must have already cast a spell to understand Saurial, for he immediately began circling the warriors, casting the protection spell Dragonbait had asked for. When he'd finished, the manes all began moving away. They lingered at the edge of Mintassan's magic boundary, waiting for it to dissipate. The mist, too, flowed out of the circle of protection. The shell about Alias's legs, however,remained. Trying desperately to conceal his own anxiety, Dragonbait spoke as calmly as he could. "Concentrate on your feelings," he instructed Alias. "Clear your heart of everything that poisons it. Verovan's soul was cut by his greed, Victor's by his lust for power." "Victor's dead," Alias said softly. "The manes got him."

  "I know," the paladin replied. He did not mention that he could feel the man's evil spirit hovering nearby, no doubt waiting to witness the swordswoman's death. "You have to let go of your anger and hatred for Victor Dhostar."

  Alias did not reply immediately. She didn't know how to tell the paladin that she didn't wish to do as he bid her. She cherished her anger and hatred of the nobleman.-Victor had deceived her in the worst way. She had every right to be angry, to hate him.

  The saurial sighed, realizing how hard it must be for Alias to give up the powerful emotions. They had fastened themselves so strongly to her essence that losing them would feel like losing herself. She could not accept that there was so much more to her being than these poisonous, wounding feelings. He ran his fingertips down the brand on her sword arm, trying to kindle a spark of the link that bound their souls together.

  Alias shivered at the paladin's touch. She could sense his great serenity, his compassion, his tenderness and concern. She knew, though, that she was nothing like him, would never be, could never be as good. There were times she wished she were, but wishing did not make it so.

  Dragonbait looked up suddenly at the manes massing behind Alias. He could feel their evil darkening, growing more powerful.

  Alias struggled, but she remained trapped in the mist shell.

  "Alias, please," the paladin begged. "Let it go. I know you can do it." "I can't," the swordswoman snapped. "I've tried." "You can!" Dragonbait snapped back. "No, I can't!"

  "She doesn't dare," Mintassan interjected. "It's her only protection."

  "Protection?" Dragonbait growled. "It's trapped her in this evil place. How is that protection?"

  "If she gives up her anger and hatred, there's nothing left but bitterness and despair," the sage pointed out. "Why would she want to feel them?"

  The paladin nodded. Bitterness; the shadow of anger, and despair, the evil without a color. He wasn't very familiar with them, so he'd forgotten them both. Mintassan knew them though, intimately.

  "Alias, what Mintassan says is true. You're holding onto the anger and hate because you're afraid of the bitterness and despair- You know they'll hurt you even more. But you can shed them, too. Trust me."

  "I am not bitter apd despairing!" Alias shouted. "I'm just stuck in a damned rock. Go get Durgar. Maybe he's got some priest prayer that can break this thing open."

  Behind Alias the mist was taking on a serpent shape, and the serpent was rising up. "Alias, there isn't time," the paladin insisted. "Your life depends on it. Let them go-"

  "I have no reason to be bitter or despairing," Alias argued. "Victor was a monster, and I'm well rid of him. He wasn't worthy of my love. I know that."

  "It's not the loss of that worthless man that brings you pain," Mintassan said. "It's the loss of the love you felt. Your love was good, and when it died, it left you empty."

  The mist serpent began winding around the border of the spell of protection.

  Alias glared at Mintassan. "I don't have time for stupid conversations with sages. What do you know about my love? You don't know anything except what you read in your dusty old tomes."

  "Oh, don't I?" Mintassan replied, holding her eyes with his own. "Do you think it was easy for me watching someone I cared about fling herself at someone as unworthy as Victor Dhostar." Alias felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, as if she'd run into a wall of understanding. When she'd first arrived, the sage had cared less about Westgate than she had, but for some reason he'd been there to save her life. Then he'd thrown himself into her quest for vengeance. Now he stood in this stinking, gods-forsaken, evil-ridden pit of a planar pocket arguing with her.

  The swordswoman flushed with embarrassment. Why did he have to tell her this?

  "So the question is," Mintassan said, "if the lowly sage survived his battle against bitterness and despair, why won't the great warrior woman risk battling them, too?"

  Alias squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep tears from falling out of them. Mintassan was right. She missed her love. It had made her feel warm and safe and happy.

  But she could feel those things without it. She knew. she could. Besides-she might even love again-maybe.

  Dragonbait sighed with relief as the shell of mane mist began to melt from Alias's legs and drift away from the adventurers.

  "What in Mystra's name is that?" Mintassan whispered, finally noticing the serpentlike evil wrapped about the circle of protection and hovering over them.

  "The manes have found a focus," the paladin said, "a leader to organize their attack."

  Alias spun around and looked up at the serpent of mist. She looked into its bright blue eyes. She gasped. "It's Victor!"

  "Move toward the portal," the paladin instructed, taking Alias's arm. "The circle of protection should move with us."

  As the three adventurers shifted their position, the serpent hissed with anger, but it uncoiled and let them pass, unable to withstand the magical constraints of Minta amp;san's spell. It followed them to the portal, devouring mist as it moved, growing larger and darker.

  The portal loomed ahead like a hole of darkness. Dragonbait stepped out onto the bridge and held his hand out to Alias.

  As Abas stepped into the night sky over Westgate, she took a deep breath of the cool air and laughed. Mintassan flew out from the portal and swooped over the bridge.

  Dragonbait gasped and spun about. His shen sight suddenly perceived a hundredfold increase in the evil emanating from the mane serpent. Mintassan's circle of protection had dissipated when he had flown through the portal. The serpent wavered over Alias's head and struck before the paladin could pull her out of danger.

  From the top of the tower, Jamal, Olive, Thistle, and Durgar watched in horror as a huge, dark serpent swung down over Alias and coiled around her body. Dragonbait thrust his fiery blade into the creature, and Alias stabbed at it with her sword. Little bits of glowing mist seeped from the creature wherever it was hit, but the beast remained intact, healing over the cuts almost immediately with some otherworldly power. Mintassan hovered over the beast and sent five magic missiles shooting into the creature's hid^e, but they passed right through the monster and fell to the ground.

  The serpent brought its head down to survey the warrior woman in its embrace. Noxious poison dripped from its fangs. It opened its jaw and brushed its tongue along her face. It was toying with her before it devoured her- lording its power over her, just as Victor had when he had embraced and kissed her poison-paralyzed body. "Close the gate!" Olive shouted to Thistle.

  "If I do that, the bridge will collapse. They'll fall to their deaths," the girl argued.

  "Durgar, Lady Thistle said the place was full of manes. Aren't they some sort of undead?" Jamal asked. "Maybe this thing is, too. Use your power to turn it away."

  Durgar looked exceedingly doubtful of the actress's suggestion, but he began a prayer, nonetheless, asking Tyr to compel the monster to flee. "It's working!" Olive shouted.

  The serpent began to turn translucent, all except the tongue, which took the shape of a man and fell from the monster's mouth to the ground far below. The body of the serpent began to turn to mist, which drifted quickly back through the portal. Unfortunately, the part of the serpent that had been coiled about Alias was no longer over the bridge. As
the coils dissipated, the swordswoman fell with a shriek toward the ground- To be caught by the arm by a flying sage.

  Mintassan set the swordswoman down on the roof of the tower just as Dragonbait stepped off the bridge. They turned to watch the last of the mist escape through the portal, fleeing from the power of Durgar's god. Thistle flung the brooch across the bridge and into the portal. The bridge retreated and disappeared, then the portal snapped shut, leaving the top of the tower in darkness.

  Olive leaned over the battlement and stared down at the ground. Members of the watch held torches aloft as they surveyed the dark shape that had fallen to the ground from the top of the tower. "It's Lord Victor!" one of the watch shouted.

  "He's dead! He just fell from the tower!" another guard cried out.

  "No," Olive whispered to Jamal, "he fell a long time ago."

  Twenty-Five

  Curtain Call

  The day after Lord Victor Dhostar, Croamarkh of Westgate, was found dead at the base of the southernmost tower of Castle Vhammos, Mintassan the Sage held a private tea party to celebrate with four close friends. The Faceless was dead; the Night Masters and many of the Night Masks had been killed or captured. The deadly magic once at their disposal had been destroyed. Citizens of Westgate were tossing the remaining bullies and thieves into the harbor. They had a lot to celebrate.

  Mintassan sat at the head of the table in his workroom with Jamal the Thespian and Olive Ruskettle on his left and Alias the Sell-Sword and Dragonbait the Paladin on his right. The boy Kel had been banished to an upper room to work on learning his letters with his new tutor, Mercy. The former Night Mask had accepted his and the half-elven girl's banishment with such grace that it caused Olive to mutter, "Who's teaching whom, and what's being taught?"

  After taking a sip from her mismatched mug of tea, sweetened with five sugar cubes, Olive returned to her interrogation of the conspirators, as she had come to call Alias, Dragonbait, and Mintassan. "So let's see if I have this straight finally," the halfling said. "After Kimbel shot Dragonbait and kidnapped him, Mintassan followed Kimbel and knocked Kimbel out. How'd you get the drop on an assassin as sharp as Kimbel?"