The Crystal Mountain

by Thomas M. Reid

  He got into place by bracing his feet against a short, stumpy stalagmite and lifting himself high against the cave wall. Use the high ground, he thought. Take every advantage you can. He pressed his back against the rock and waited.

  So, what do I do when something does come in? he wondered.

  He considered the chain between his manacles. He could use it like a garrote, perhaps even lifting an opponent off its feet and swinging it around to dash it against the rocks. It was the best he could do, and it would have to be enough. He wasn’t going down without a fight. He owed Tauran that much. And Torm, he reminded himself.

  The sound of the fighting increased until Kael was convinced the conflict was just beyond the entry. He fought his own nervousness and waited.

  Suddenly, there was a gasp and a dying scream, and the sounds of combat ceased. Kael held his breath, anxious to find out what had happened, worried about betraying his inadequate hiding place. He detected the sound of footsteps, faint but rapid, approaching. Then a shout issued from deeper in the corridor.

  Just when he thought he couldn’t stand to wait any longer, a figure dashed into the room. It was some kind of fiend, short and squat, with greasy black skin and patches of fur growing everywhere. It held a nasty looking saw-tooth-edged blade in one hand. A foul odor filled Kael’s nostrils, a mixture of feces and acrid smoke. The creature skidded to a halt, stared at the two occupants, and the obvious dead-end. He let out a howl of frustration.

  Zasian cried out in alarm and scampered backward from the intruder. Tauran didn’t move, seemingly oblivious to his own danger. Kael prepared to lunge at the thing, knowing he only had one chance to get behind it and get his manacles over its neck, but he hesitated. He sensed something else coming, following the fiend through the tunnels.

  The creature turned, and Kael could see its grotesque face and ratty, caked beard as it caught sight of him. The bearded devil snarled and took a step toward Kael, but then it froze in place, its attention turned back toward the entrance again.

  A second, hulking figure emerged from the tunnel. The new arrival filled the entrance with its bulk, and it could not stand upright in the cramped chamber. It looked much like a gorilla from Kael’s vantage point. The smaller devil let out a nervous growl and began to back away, brandishing its serrated weapon.

  The gorilla-demon snorted and roared, then it punched at the bearded devil with one massive fist. The smaller creature yelped and tried to retreat further, but there was nowhere to go. It took a swipe at its enemy’s fist with its weapon, slicing open a gash across the knuckles. The gorilla-demon howled and yanked its fist back, sucking the wound into its mouth, but it used its other hand to swat at the devil.

  The sweeping strike caught the smaller creature and sent it sprawling. It gibbered in terror and tried to roll out of the gorilla’s reach, but it was truly trapped and got another punch for its troubles. The devil slammed against the wall with a sickening thud and slid down limply to the floor, leaving a dark smear on the stone. The gorilla demon loomed over the devil and pummeled it several times with both fists, reducing it to a mass of pulpy flesh.

  Kael watched the entire skirmish, frozen in awe and unable to react. In the back of his mind, he knew that, even if he had been able to jump on the demon from behind, its head and neck were much too thick and muscular for him to be able to do anything with his makeshift garrote.

  Without his sword, Kael was no match for the hulking thing.

  The creature finished satisfying itself with pulverizing the devil and turned to stare at the other occupants of the chamber. Zasian had managed to scoot away from the fighting and pressed himself as closely as he could to the rock wall of the room, but Tauran still had not moved. When the demon saw the angel lying bound near the base of the wall, it howled in savage glee and reached out to grab him.

  “No!” Kael roared, jumping from his position and ramming his shoulder into the creature’s ribs. Even with his limited mobility, the knight managed to generate good thrust with his powerful legs, and the metal of his shoulder armor struck bone.

  The gorilla-demon grunted and staggered to the side. With a snarl, it spun away from the angel and swatted at Kael with its big, meaty fist.

  The half-drow had been expecting the attack, and he managed to sag backward as the powerful punch sailed over his head. As soon as he landed on his back, Kael rolled the rest of the way backward and flipped himself onto his feet. The problem, he quickly realized, was that he had backed himself against the wall in the process, so there was little maneuver room left for him.

  The gorilla-demon grunted and closed the distance, aiming another punch. Kael tried to dodge to one side, but in his haste, he forgot how limiting his ankle restraints were, and he tripped, dropping to his knees. He caught the brunt of the blow on his shoulder and the side of his head.

  A blaze of light flashing in his vision, the half-drow sank to the stone floor, woozy.

  The demon roared in triumph and scooted closer.

  Kael tried to clear his head of the cobwebs, but his eyes wouldn’t focus right.

  The big ape-thing smacked him with an open palm and sent him tumbling across the floor.

  Kael struck his hip against a sharp protrusion of rock that sent shooting pain all through his midsection. He knew the demon was toying with him, and that one more blow like that would probably knock him unconscious.

  No more stalling, part of Kael insisted. Call to Torm.

  What if he does not answer? The thought terrified him.

  Then die like a true servant of the Loyal Fury.

  A peace settled over Kael in that instant, the thought filling him that he would represent his god in the best way he could, even without the deity’s comforting presence to guide him. No one would know, perhaps, but he needed to prove to himself, one last time, that he was worthy of Tauran’s trust in him. In grim resolve, Kael began a prayer to Torm, asking the deity for the strength and discipline to face the demon, no longer terrified that he would not be answered.

  The gorilla-demon loomed over Kael again, raising both fists high, clenched together, ready to bring them down in a final, crushing blow. Kael realized he would not complete his prayer in time. He did not want to die, but he braced himself for it and hoped it would be with honor.

  A flash of blue light filled one corner of the room.

  Aliisza stepped through a magic doorway, her slender long sword in hand.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “Get away from my son!”

  It took Kaanyr quite a while to find his way back to the small chamber where he and Aliisza had left their other companions. In the confusion and thrill of battle, he had become turned around in the catacombs, and he couldn’t remember which route to take.

  Along the way, he encountered a few other knots of demons and devils doing battle, but the invasion appeared to have been thwarted and the diabolical fiends were being destroyed or were fleeing. Kaanyr was pleased. He did not relish the idea of having to negotiate with devils, even though they were more willing to stick to their bargains than chaotic demons. He had double-crossed more than a few of them in his time, and he feared that his reputation might precede him in any dealings.

  Kaanyr reached a series of tunnels that looked more familiar to him, and he followed the one he believed led back to the cave. He hurried down it, checking his wounded arm as he did so. The poisoned cut had turned a nasty shade of purple, and his entire arm was swollen and stiff. Whatever had coated the half-devil’s scimitar, it was not treating him nicely at all.

  As he drew closer, he could hear the sounds of fighting.

  Not yet, he thought, increasing his pace. Don’t kill the angel yet. I still need him.

  Then another thought crossed his mind.

  If I am too late, at least I would be free of his confounded geas upon me. The thought both pleased Kaanyr and forced him to sprint. He would not mind at all escaping the compulsion magic, but it would be by his own hand. The celestial bond required him to at
tempt to save Tauran.

  Kaanyr turned the last corner and dashed into the chamber in time to see a huge, brutish bar-lgura with its back to him, flailing at some target he could not see. To one side, Zasian cowered against the wall, the illumination that surrounded him providing the only light in the cave. Next to the priest, Kael struggled to rise to his hands and knees, but the knight appeared woozy and was having trouble staying upright. On the opposite side of the chamber, Tauran also tried to move, but the angel, bound as he was, could not do much more than thrash around on the hard stone floor.

  Kaanyr ran to Tauran. “Can you heal this?” he asked, thrusting his wounded arm in the angel’s face. “I’ve been poisoned by a devil’s blade.”

  The deva blinked and stared at both the wound and Kaanyr’s face. “Help Aliisza,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Hurry!”

  Kaanyr saw that Aliisza was the object of the big ape-demon’s wrath. She brandished her weapon but could do little more than poke and prod defensively at her foe’s ferocious punches and swipes. Kaanyr grinned and felt an old, familiar stirring at the thought of fighting alongside her. Watching her lithe, black-clad body glide so smoothly from one battle stance to another always thrilled him. But his wound was pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

  “I can fight better with both arms healthy. Can you do it?”

  Tauran shook his head. “Not bound like this,” he said, and his voice cracked. “But there’s no time to free me. Aid her first!”

  Sighing in exasperation, Kaanyr rose to his feet and slid Spitefang free. He swished the blade through the air and then closed the gap with the crazed demon. He tried to ignore his throbbing arm as he swung the blade with all his might, aiming toward the bar-lgura’s flank.

  The blade bit deep into the demon’s flesh and sent crackling purple energy crisscrossing over the beast’s body. The demon howled and spun away from Aliisza, turning its glittering red eyes on Kaanyr. With a roar, it tried to smash Kaanyr with one of its fists. Kaanyr stepped neatly out of the way and sliced at the wrist of the creature. Once more, the keen edge of his sword sliced deeply into demon flesh, and the malevolent magic of the blade scoured the demon.

  The ape-thing yelped, but before it had time to react, Aliisza stabbed her own sword into its shoulder, then she flung a handful of glowing, magical missiles at it. As the familiar azure glow erupted around the alu, her whistling blue darts hit it in the head, and the creature dropped to the ground and writhed in death throes. Kaanyr finished it off with a quick thrust into its chest, directly into the demon’s black heart.

  When it was clear the fight was finished, Kael said, “That was fortuitous timing, Vhok.” He attempted to rise on unsteady feet that were still restricted by steel. “I thought we would all meet our end here.”

  Kaanyr nodded, catching his own breath. “Glad I could be of service,” he said absently, not even mocking the knight. His arm burned with an inner fire. He turned to Tauran. “My arm is about to fall off. Do you think you could possibly take care of it now?”

  The angel closed his eyes as though in pain, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I will heal you with what little power I have left.”

  “No,” Kael said.

  Kaanyr spun to face him, angry. “What?” he asked. “Why not?”

  “Let Zasian try, first,” Kael said, pointing at the priest. “He has a healer’s touch and isn’t suffering the effects of this place like Tauran is.”

  Kaanyr smirked, but he didn’t argue. He moved over to where the priest sat, a vacant look upon his face. “Can you leech the poison out of my wound and heal me?” he asked. When Zasian didn’t answer, Kaanyr squatted down in front of him. “Hey, you!” he said, raising his voice. “Can you hear me?”

  Zasian finally turned his gaze toward Kaanyr, but there was little recognition there. Kaanyr sighed but held his arm out in the hope that perhaps the man who had once been his adversary might understand. The priest looked at the wound and finally, some sense of awareness blossomed in his eyes.

  “You’re hurt,” he said, reaching out to touch the open sore, which by then had become a festering gash oozing greenish pus. The touch sent fiery pain shooting through Kaanyr’s arm, which was otherwise growing numb.

  “Yes,” Kaanyr said, trying to remain patient. “I’ve been poisoned. Can you do something about it?”

  Zasian did not answer, but he dabbed at the infected cut with the tip of his finger. The cambion clenched his teeth and tried not to wince.

  Zasian closed his eyes and let his fingers caress the wound. Where he touched, Kaanyr felt cooling sensations, and the swelling seemed to go down the slightest bit, while color returned to the skin. Kaanyr let out a deep, satisfied sigh, not realizing until it was made better just how bad his arm had felt.

  Zasian continued to work for a few moments more, magically leeching all of the poison and infection from Kaanyr’s arm. When he was finished, the priest smiled vaguely up at the cambion, then turned his gaze away again, lost in his own stare.

  Kaanyr stared at the place where the wound had been. His arm felt perfect, and there was nothing to denote that he had been injured at all other than a very narrow white scar that was already fading. The cambion flexed his arm a few times, testing its mobility. Satisfied, he rose to his feet and turned toward the others.

  It was only then that he realized what a sorry state Aliisza was in.

  Her body looked beaten and battered, and blood poured from several wounds. She had balled herself into a knot and was retching blood. She gasped for breath as she writhed on the hard stone ground, even as the blue glow around her faded.

  Kneeling down beside her, Kaanyr said, “You look like death warmed over. Do not tell me you aren’t hurt.”

  “I am hurt.” She coughed again, and more blood dribbled down her chin. “I think my newfound arcane power is devouring me.”

  “What?” Kaanyr asked softly. All his recent thoughts and memories of their happier times together surged through him, jumbled in a painful revelation. He felt sudden fear. “Why would that happen?”

  Aliisza drew a deep breath. “The backlash of Mystra’s death,” she said. “I felt it course through me when I first came to, back in the rotunda. Just as I suspect it is what fused Micus and Myshik together and stole Zasian’s memories, it must have imbued me with unparalleled power.” She trembled. “But that power draws on me, on my lifeforce, to function.”

  For a moment, the look on Aliisza’s face reflected Kaanyr’s own pain. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “Great power. Killing me. Slowly.”

  Kaanyr felt his chest tighten, found it hard to breathe.

  “How bad is it?” he asked. “Can you recover?”

  Aliisza shook her head. “I don’t know. I dare not—” Another wracking coughing fit hit her. She wiped away the smear of blood from her lips and tried again. “I dare not invoke the magic again,” she said. “Each time, it gets worse. I can rest and feel better, but if I cast another spell, it takes me all the way down. And then some.”

  Kaanyr sagged back against a stout stalagmite. I’m losing her, he realized. Perhaps Zasian could …

  Kaanyr rose, crossed over to the priest, and grabbed him by the arm. “Come here, you,” he snarled, pulling on the man. “Come make her better.”

  But Zasian didn’t react. He merely toppled over onto his side.

  “Damn you!” Kaanyr shouted, drawing his leg back to kick the priest.

  “Kaanyr, stop it!” Aliisza cried out. Her voice was weak, and she could hardly hold herself upright, but she crawled toward Zasian anyway, trying to reach out and ward off the impending blow.

  Kaanyr paused, stunned. You would protect him, even if it meant your own death. You’d defend him even from me. As feeble as a lamb, yet you still—

  Then his indignation and rage left as realization struck him. You’re a fool, Kaanyr Vhok, he told himself. You’ve created a mess of massive proportions and stuck yourself
right in the middle of it. Well, it’s time to fix it. It’s time to fix everything you’ve fouled up. There can be no future for you until you resolve this.

  With that, Vhok felt a great weight lift from him. He sensed many tendays’ worth of anger and frustration dissipate. It was time to act. No more hesitation, no more succumbing to inaction. It’s a new day, Kaanyr Vhok.

  Vhok saw Aliisza’s eyes widen, staring at him. She’s wondering, he thought. She’s worried that she’s just crossed a threshold, revealed her deepest, darkest weakness to me, and that she can’t trust me with the knowledge. Let me show you, lover.

  “It’s remarkable,” he said. “A day or so ago, I would have wanted nothing more than to ram my blade through his gut. Today, he restores my arm without a thought. And I mean that. He literally doesn’t seem to have a thought left in him.”

  Tauran coughed. “He is becoming a Living Vessel,” the angel said, still sounding as if he hadn’t had a thing to drink in several days. “I’ve never seen it happen like this, though.”

  Curious, Kaanyr moved over to the angel and knelt down.

  “What is he?”

  Tauran fought a coughing spell, then explained. “Usually, a celestial creature can make an ultimate sacrifice of itself by making its body an empty vessel for another to inhabit. We don’t do it often, but when certain needs are pure and dire, we sometimes offer ourselves in this way.

  “Zasian told us a bit about what happened in the rotunda,” the angel continued. “It sounds as though, with the strange surges of magic that cascaded through there right after Mystra was slain, his spiritual form and the planetar’s somehow merged. Perhaps the planetar invoked his power accidentally when he was so badly wounded, almost like a reflex. But instead of the planetar’s body becoming the vessel, Zasian’s did. But some small part of a personality—neither the planetar’s nor Zasian’s complete memories, but some small part—remained behind, which is why he has been behaving so oddly. And over the last few days, as it has perhaps dissipated, he has grown more vacant, detached.”