Shadows shifted in Jinn's wake, shuffling footsteps barely heard over the low whistle of wind that carried through the alleys. No one approached or made himself known, but Jinn slowed down all the same, walking the center of the alley like a tightrope, blade low and ready at his side. Stalkers at one's back usually indicated an attack from the front as a chosen mark was herded toward a place where brigands could conduct their business undisturbed. As Jinn made out the dim silhouettes of bodies pressed against walls and hiding in doorways ahead of him, he prepared to give whomever it was more of a disturbance than they were likely expecting.
First one then two shuffled into view, figures covered in cloaks and tattered robes. Scraggly hair haloed darkened faces in the lantern light. Jinn stopped, glancing sidelong at the stretch of alley behind him as more figures gathered in front of him.
Curiously they stood in the light, fully visible, their eyes fixed on him, their faces expressionless. It was as though a gang of the homeless and destitute threatened him, a stale smell like dried sewage drifting toward him on the wind. Edging forward, he squinted, picking out details that raised the hairs on his neck and further deepened the mystery he found himself in.
Several bore faded red symbols on the left sleeves of once priestly robes, and many produced short, curved daggers, always wielded in the left hand. Their faces were unfamiliar-he'd rarely taken note of those who ran from his sword-but their allegiance to the Vigilant Order and Asmodeus was unmistakable. Their bright eyes regarded him without emotion, slack jawed and drooling into their tangled beards as they shuffled toward him, only the barest hint of life still shining in what was left of their minds.
"Ahimazzi," Jinn muttered, recognizing those punished by Asmodeus, their souls taken until they could make amends for failing in the devil-god's service. More than a dozen of them stood out from the shadows, lurching toward him, and by what he could hear, at least that many approached from behind. "No time for this."
He bolted forward, blade drawn and angling toward their left flank. The ahimazzi managed little more than faint moans as they slashed their rusted blades at him. He parried their clumsy stabs and thrusts, steel ringing loudly in the alley as he sought to slip through their numbers. He winced at the sound, fearful of drawing a Watch patrol to the alley. A dirty hand gripped his cloak, and he spun, kicking an unarmed woman out of his path as he swung his potential captor off balance. Once free, he blocked another dagger to the cobbles and tumbled into three of the stinking men, tripping one and punching another, though the third opened a burning cut on his arm.
On instinct he angled his sword to thrust through the man's chest but twisted the force of the strike into the blade's pommel, driving it into the ahirnazzi's face. Teeth clattered to the ground as Jinn escaped to the end of the alley, casting a glance over his shoulder at the shocking number of the soulless who had gathered to spill his blood.
"So many," he whispered in astonishment. "All here in one place."
They shuffled after him, their eerie silence making it seem as though a graveyard had given up its dead to roam the streets of Waterdeep. A faint green glow reflected off of shop windows down Ivory Street, signaling the arrival of yet another Watch patrol. Swearing, he looked between the two groups and carefully plucked a small pouch from his belt. The smell of the ahimazzi grew closer as he watched the patrol make its way toward him from the east, judging the distance and muttering a swift prayer as he timed his strike.
As the soulless neared, within a few strides and wheezing, Jinn charged into the street, hurling the pouch into the Watchman's lantern. It burst into a puff of acrid, black powder, killing the light as surprised shouts echoed at his back. He dived into the shadows of a garden outside the walls of a large mansion, ducking alongside bushes as he ran from tree to tree. The Watch quickly lost interest in him as the ahimazzi stumbled into the street. Jinn pressed on as the two groups met, the officers' signal horns calling for reinforcements as he slipped across Flint Street and approached Pharra's Alley from the north.
Catching his breath, he entered the alley from its middle, at the edge of a street lantern's light, and noted the unlit lantern near the House of Wonder. He reckoned spreading rumors had kept the lamplighters from their duty in the supposedly haunted alley and was grateful for the dark, though he could see little of the famed place where the skulls were said to appear. Panting, he knelt down, feeling foolish as he tended to the stinging wound on his arm. The cobbles were cold and lifeless, as they'd been before, though each small clue seemed to draw him back to the place.
"Bogeymen," he whispered, wincing as he tried to clean the wound without water and fearing infection. "What in all the Hells did I expect to find?"
He leaned to his right, his hand, still sticky with Allek's blood, pressed to the cold ground. The brief contact jolted his arm, ripples of pain radiating up to his shoulder as the ground trembled beneath him. He fell back against the wall, sword half drawn and eyes wide as a nimbus of green energy swirled through the alley. It rose from the ground, spinning and flaring with flashes of emerald light. The smell of burning blood stung his nose, his rust-colored handprint sizzling where he had touched the ground.
Nine small spheres distinguished themselves in the circle, forming swiftly, their shapes unmistakable as the circle's flames fragmented, gathering around the skulls in fiery auras. He had seen flameskulls before, undead creatures created as guardians, covered in runes carved into them by their makers, but the nine skulls that turned to face him were smooth and unmarked as if newly torn from their missing bodies.
It appeared as though the circle of skulls had no maker.
"The deva is persistent," one said, its deep, gravelly voice radiating with a power that caused Jinn's head to ache.
"Good," another replied. "He is useless to us otherwise."
Jinn backed away, slowly drawing his sword, wide eyed and waiting for some ancient memory, an insight from his old soul to come rushing forth and advise him as to what he should do. There was something there, hiding in his mind-a sense of familiarity that resisted his attempts at recollection, like a whispered rumor from his soul. The skulls floated closer, though they did not stray far from the gates of the House of
Wonder.
"We cannot trust him," yet another spoke, a high, shrieking voice that set Jinn's nerves on edge. "We must kill him now!"
Their green flames roared higher as they turned on one another, arguing in a harsh language that crawled across Jinn's flesh like ants, but in the midst of it all, he heard them plainly. The sound of their arguing, nine voices shouting in unison, flames of green energy flaring from their eyes and between their teeth.
"The killers," he whispered. "These are Allek's murderers."
"You see!" The high-pitched one turned on him, shrieking. "He knows too much already! Kill him now!"
The skull's grinning mouth opened wide, issuing forth jets of emerald flame.
Quessahn eyed Mara suspiciously as they exited the alley opposite the direction Jinn had taken. She cursed the deva's mystery despite realizing his need to escape the Watch and exit the scene of the grisly crime. Plumes of smoke rose in twisting towers above the tavern, the flames under control, though the Storm's Front was certainly lost. The smoke gathered in dark clouds, joining those already blocking the stars from her view. She felt cut off from the sky, lost and flailing from one puzzle into another without the stars to guide her. And without that comfort, she pressed outward, seeking stability beyond the celestial veils in darker places of power. Something in that dark realm sparked her senses, focusing her attention on Mara as the strange woman stepped out into the orange light of the roaring flames.
Though Quessahn turned away from the burning tavern and the Watch, Mara went toward them, calmly approaching the nearest officer of the Watch. Quessahn swore, a spell coming to her lips, certain that Mara intended to betray Jinn at her first chance. She held back the dark magic, surrounded by too many witnesses, and reached for her dagger instead.
If necessary, cold steel would cause less of a stir than hostile spells.
"Officer!" Mara called out, suddenly appearing frightened and fragile as the Watchman turned. "It's terrible! Murder in the alley! You must see!"
She pointed daintily, her face a perfect mask of distress as the officer pressed by her dutifully. Quessahn gripped her dagger so tightly, her hands hurt, but as the officer turned into the alley, Mara's expression hardened to a grim smile. She winked at Quessahn as she followed the man.
"Careful there, girl," she whispered, gesturing to the dagger hidden beneath the eladrin's cloak. "You'll cut yourself."
Quessahn narrowed her eyes and loosened her grip on the knife but did not release it. The Watchman paused as he neared the young woman's broken body, swearing as he turned and reaching for the signal horn at his belt, but Mara stood in his path. She hissed a stream of arcane words, waving her hand in a sweeping gesture that sparkled like glitter. The officer flinched as if struck, his eyes glazing over as the glittering light of Mara's spell swirled in his widened pupils. He stumbled forward, catching himself for a breath before slumping to the ground, snoring soundly.
"You might have warned me," Quessahn muttered as Mara knelt over the man's body.
"I might have, yes," Mara said as she stole the officer's signal horn. "But I don't know you, and I don't trust you. I think that puts us on even ground, does it not?"
"Fair enough," Quessahn replied as they exited the alley away from the tavern, hoods kept close as a Watch patrol passed them by and still more gawkers stopped to watch the last of the tavern's embers hiss with steam. They followed the wide street north, keeping to what shadows were available on the fairly well-lit street, avoiding taverns where curious patrons had gathered outside, staring down toward the glowing light of the Storm's Front.
Mara turned left into the narrower streets of Morningstar Way, and Quessahn let her lead, not wanting to let the wizard out of her sight. Most of the windows they passed were dark, curtains and shutters drawn against the chill, night air, but a few remained lit, usually near servants' entrances where there was still work to be done for their wealthy employers.
"How do you know Jinn?" Mara asked, breaking the silence between them.
"I–I helped him once, a few years ago," she answered, stammering, surprised by the question and stumbling over the half lie ungracefully. Mara seemed not to notice as they angled north again, darker alleys flanking them and stinking with refuse. "Something to do with an underground cult he'd been pursuing for some time."
They entered a longer stretch of shadows and dark windows, and Mara paused, pulling forth the signal horn from beneath her cloak. She raised it to her lips then paused, lowering it and smiling at Quessahn knowingly.
"I understand that you've helped him," she said and leaned closer, winking conspiratorially. "But you did not answer my question."
Mara blew several strident notes on the horn, employing a common Watch signal used to call reinforcements, before Quessahn could respond. The echoing blasts would reach most of Sea Ward, drawing the Watch away from Jinnaoth and keeping them busy while he attended to his suspicions. Quessahn let Mara's statement be, turning as several windows lit with fresh, flickering light.
"Where to now?" she asked, imagining patrols converging on them already.
"Now we shall go to meet Jinn," Mara answered, replacing the horn in her cloak, still smiling with a mischievous look in her dark eyes.
Quessahn averted her gaze, trying to appear concerned, though the Watch would not be looking for two women. They walked swiftly east, silent and stealthy, Quessahn's heart racing as she fought to banish the memories stirred by Mara's question.
SIX
NIGHTAL 20, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)
Roaring flames rolled over Jinn's back as he jumped out of their path and tumbled into an awkward crouch, his swiftly drawn sword at odds with his instinct to retreat. He wasn't sure if he was even able to harm the skulls, much less battle them all at once. And though he had discovered the source of Sea Ward's sudden rise in mortality rate, he did not yet know the reason, and, most importantly, he did not know how Sathariel was involved.
As the circle devolved into chaos, arguing with one another over his fate, he fell back, observing them from a safer distance and wincing as their ghostly voices pierced his skull. Pressing a palm to his forehead, he noticed that the stain of Allek's blood had been burned away during the skulls' manifestation.
"Be still!" One voice rose above the others with a note of authority, silencing the circle's bickering. The speaker drifted to the circle's edge to face the deva as it addressed the others. "He doesn't care about us. He wants the angel, correct?"
Jinn remained silent as the other skulls turned toward him, hissing in impatience, their green flames diminished as they regarded him. He returned their cold scrutiny, the pits of their glowing eyes mirroring the emptiness he felt in his gut as he considered the accusation. Yet he could not deny the statement.
"Yes," he answered at length, tucking his quiet shame away for more peaceful times when he could look back and afford the luxury of regret.
A sibilant sigh passed through the skulls as he took a tentative step into their flickering, emerald light. They arranged themselves into the even circle they'd appeared in, their flames barely more than candlelight in the dark alley.
"Know this, deva," the skulls' apparent leader continued, "you have earned Sathariel's attention of late."
"The fall of the Vigilant Order," Jinn muttered, though he wondered how true that fall had been. The soulless ahimazzi were bound to the pleasure of Asmodeus, seeking redemption in suffering and service. Their numbers in Sea Ward suggested that his work-and theirs-was not yet complete.
"The angel's time here in Waterdeep is ending, and his purpose becomes more fragile with each day that passes," the skull added. "You shall soon have your reckoning."
"And what does this have to do with you?" Jinn asked, his jaw clenching as he fought the celestial blood in his veins, urging him to attack, to mete out justice and have done with questions and mysteries. "What does the blood you spill mean to him?"
"That is our business, deva," the skull growled. "Take care to bend the crusading mercy of your morals upon Sathariel, and we shall both have what we desire."
"And you take care not to presume what I desire,"
Jinn said threateningly, gold eyes flashing and stolen blade rising in hatred at the skull's condescending tone. The circle chuckled in unison, the sound of it rattling in his head like boulders.
"Agreed, deva," the lead skull said finally. "We wish you happy hunting."
The green flames flickered and began to fade as the circle spun slowly in an emerald fog that stank of dry rot and decay.
"No!" Jinn cried, slashing his sword through the dissipating mist. "Why is he here? What does he want? Tell me or I'll-!"
But the skulls were gone, only the lingering scent of their passing, of char and rot, hanging on the air. Jinn swore, slashing his sword across the ground with a shower of sparks before sheathing the weapon and calming himself. He paced in a circle where the skulls had appeared, staring at the cobbles and willing the undead things to reappear. One night had brought him closer to his desires than he'd ever been, and despite the slow-burning fires of his patience, another day of waiting, so close to his quarry, seemed more than he could suffer.
He stared into the middle distance, slowing his racing heart and breathing deeply for long moments before setting off toward North Ward and Mara's shop. Mysteries raced through his thoughts, but he felt certain that the key to finding Sathariel lay within the secrets of the circle of skulls.
The scent of smoke fit well on the breeze of winter's first night. Mingling with that of grand fireplaces throughout Sea Ward, the smell of charred flesh was obscured but did not go unnoticed. Tallus skulked in the shadows across the street from the dying fire, glowering at the blackened, smoldering remains of the Storm's Front. He spun
his gnarled wooden staff slowly, grinding it between the cobbles absently as Rorden Dregg swaggered and handed out orders as if they were gold. Dregg disgusted him but Tallus knew it had been time for a change in the local Watch's leadership. Dregg's connections, however ill gotten, had proven a timely convenience.
Allek Marson's time had gone on for far too long, and there was no ward rotation scheduled for another month or two. Tallus's days were numbered, with too much to do and too little time, and his work could not go unnoticed for much longer.
Better that it be Dregg, he thought, fool that the man is.
James P. Davis
Circle of Skulls
Tallus fumed, having watched the deva easily escape, assisted by the meddling Quessahn and another woman whom he had not recognized. That there would likely be a bounty on their heads did not comfort the archmage in the least. He needed Jinnaoth dead, needed anyone with a chance of uncovering his secrets removed as quickly as possible. Marson's Watch, ironically, might have been well suited to the task of tracking down the deva, while Dregg would be lucky to find a decent place to drink while his men did all the work.
A section of the tavern's roof collapsed, sending showers of sparks dancing over the heads of those left to witness the destruction as if it were the evening's entertainment. Tallus scowled. Rumors would spread more quickly, prompting some, those wealthy enough, to move on to secondary homes within the city. Still others would remain as they were, willing pawns to his devices, their hidden altars burning nightly with offered sacrifices. Even to the wealthy and powerful, perhaps especially, promises of yet more wealth and power had driven many to debase themselves before dark and hidden lords. Many of those even reveled in the bloodletting, an extravagance beyond common parties and social status.
Tallus grinned at the thought. Though fallen, his order's reach had not been completely lost.
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