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  Oath of Vigilance

  ( The Abyssal plague - 2 )

  James Wyatt

  James Wyatt

  Oath of Vigilance

  PROLOGUE

  Vestapalk perched on the lip of the crater and stared down into the tumult below. A red glow from the bottom cast sickly shadows from the boulders and other debris that littered the slopes of the old caldera, but occasional lightning in the heart of the central shaft turned the rubble into stark silhouettes. Deep within the shaft, the Voidharrow was doing its work, slowly breaking the earth down into its component elements and infusing them with some distant echo of its malignity, creating a sinkhole of evil, a new Abyss that would spawn plague demons enough to overrun whatever was left of the world when its work was complete.

  It was beautiful to Vestapalk, his creation as well as his source. He had poured himself into its genesis, vomiting forth so much of the Voidharrow that he was left little more than an empty husk at the rim of the volcano’s crater. He had lain there, spent, for weeks as the Voidharrow bored down toward the world’s core, birthing this maelstrom. Slowly, his exarchs and his minions had found their way to him, joining Nu Alin in keeping watch over him as he rested. As the new Abyss had grown, they had moved down into it, making it their home. They were its demons.

  Vestapalk spread his leathery wings and leaped into the air. He circled the caldera a few times, riding the warm updraft from the sinkhole, then folded his wings and dived into the shaft.

  His Abyss swirled and churned around him, bathing him in its chaotic surges. First lightning crackled and danced along his wings, then a jet of flame washed over the scarlet, crystalline scales that covered his head and neck. Mighty as it had been, the mortal body that was the dragon Vestapalk would have been destroyed if it had flown through the midst of the storm like this. Something akin to laughter rumbled in his chest.

  He spread his wings to arrest his fall and circled again, gazing down at the bubbling pool that was the Voidharrow, the origin of his own transformation as well as this new Abyss. Wisps of steam rose from it and shone in its red glow like an aurora of blood, and at the edges, where it slowly ate into the earth, it unleashed flashes of fire and lightning, rumbles of thunder and cracking ice. Vestapalk circled lower until his claws trailed across the surface of the liquid crystal. It lifted slender tendrils to meet him, brushing them against him as he passed over, sending electric tingles through his claws.

  With a splash that sent waves of viscous liquid sloshing against the walls of the cavern, Vestapalk settled into the pool. The Voidharrow embraced him, rising around him in a thin film that slowly spread to cover every scale of his body, just as it had when it first infused his mortal body and began his transformation. It crept under his scales and flowed into his veins, coursing through him and reinvigorating him.

  He looked down at his body, shining like a distant, crimson star. He was the Voidharrow now-the dragon’s mortal body and the fragment of its mind that persisted within his own were nothing more than a framework for his power. He was the lord of this Abyss, master of the plague demons that walked and crawled and flew among the swirling elemental forces. He closed his eyes and extended his mind throughout the liquid pool, sent out a call to all those he had infused with its power, his exarchs. He summoned them, and he felt them respond, turning their steps toward the Voidharrow.

  He closed his eyes and settled into the pool to wait for them as the Plaguedeep grew around him.

  The demons came quickly, gathering around the edges of the pool amid the churning entropy of elemental forces liberated from the earth. They prostrated themselves before Vestapalk, and he extended his mind to touch each of theirs, to ensure that no doubt or resentment or ambition had taken root in his exarchs. Satisfied, he lifted his head, sending a slow cascade of liquid running from his chin to splash back into the Voidharrow, and then he addressed them.

  “Our time has come,” Vestapalk said, his voice filling the cavern and resounding from the walls. Beneath him, the Voidharrow whispered its echo of his words, and all around him his exarchs murmured their agreement. “The Plaguedeep has taken root in this place, and it grows with every passing hour. With it, our power grows, and the world’s destruction grows ever nearer.”

  The murmurs around him grew louder with excitement, and he paused to let them quiet again.

  “So now this one sends you forth to carry the seeds of annihilation beyond this place. You shall carry the Voidharrow to every corner of the world. The demons at your command shall spread terror and destruction everywhere. Our plague will spread until the world is gone and only the Plaguedeep remains.”

  Now the murmurs rose to eager shouts. Vestapalk cast his eyes around at his exarchs and the other demons capering grotesquely near the edge of the pool. He saw one of his exarchs, hulking Churr Ashin, lash out with a massive claw to take the head off a lesser demon that pranced too close. The demon’s headless body twitched and danced for a moment more before it tumbled into the viscous pool and the Voidharrow dragged it down to fuel the plague.

  “Wherever you go, this one goes,” Vestapalk continued, roaring above the noise. “As you spread through the world, you spread my power. This one is the Voidharrow, the plague, and the Plaguedeep. Go forth and consume the world!”

  More violence erupted around the edges of the pool, and Vestapalk felt a slow surge of power as demon blood spilled into the pool and flowed into his veins through the Voidharrow. He let the excitement rise to a fever pitch, let the ecstasy of power build within him, until he felt that his exarchs were sated. Then he roared once more, “Go!” and the demons hurried to disperse.

  Vestapalk settled back into the pool, the blood eddying around him. He closed his eyes and drank in the intoxicating flows of power within the Voidharrow for a moment before turning his gaze to Nu Alin.

  The body thief stood calmly at the edge of the pool, a stark contrast to the bestial demons that had thronged the shore moments earlier. He looked almost perfectly human, though he made no effort to conceal the red liquid that welled in his eyes like bloodstained tears. He must have seized a new vessel only recently, shedding the battered corpse of the drow he had taken at the Temple of Yellow Skulls. Now he wore the body of a strong, fair-skinned man, perhaps one of the Tigerclaw barbarians from the northern forest.

  “What is it, Nu Alin?” Vestapalk murmured. The Voidharrow’s echoing whispers were indistinct, like a susurrus of wind.

  “There was another purpose that drove us once,” Nu Alin said. His voice was low and rumbling, and it echoed softly on the cavern walls and stirred gently in the Voidharrow. “Before you joined with the Voidharrow, you scoured the land for a sign of my presence, driven by visions of the Eye. And I …”

  “You were a disciple of the Eye. What of it?”

  “I was a disciple of the Chained God, and I sought to win him his freedom. Three hundred years have passed, and still he waits.”

  “Let him wait,” Vestapalk spat. “We have no need of him. He and his disciples were a means to a greater end.”

  “Even you and I?”

  “Even the flesh this one wears. The flesh of your first host is long discarded.”

  “Indeed.” Nu Alin gazed into the pool by his feet. “And yet …”

  “You carry his memories. That is all.”

  “Sometimes I think that is no small thing. Even you still speak as the dragon spoke.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Vestapalk said. He drew a deep breath, the glowing mist from the pool billowing around his nostrils. “The Elder Eye stirs,” he said. “Dreamers hear his whispers in the night.”

  Nu Alin met his eyes. “I have heard them, too.”

  “It does not matter,” Vestapalk
said, making an effort to lend his words a finality he almost believed. “This one is the Voidharrow, the plague, and the Plaguedeep.”

  Nu Alin bowed deeply and turned away, leaving Vestapalk to his dreams.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Albanon glared up at the center of the vague circle of lighter gray in the overcast night sky. A gentle breeze, laced with a hint of winter’s approach, did nothing to stir the clouds from the face of the moon.

  “Looks like there’ll be no passage this month,” said a voice at his shoulder. The halfling innkeeper, Cham, set another glass of wine down in front of Albanon. “Will you gentlemen be extending your stay at the Cloudwatch Inn, then?” He tucked his thumbs under the straps of his filthy apron and smiled first at Albanon and then at his companion.

  Kri let out a slow breath and opened his eyes. “Some say it’s ill luck to disturb a priest from his prayers,” the old cleric said. Cham blanched and the smile dropped from his face. “The night’s not over yet,” Kri added.

  “Those clouds aren’t moving, Kri,” Albanon said. “Cham is right. There’ll be no moonlight to open the Moon Door tonight. We’re stuck.” A bitter taste rose in his mouth. Another month’s delay meant another month that Vestapalk’s demons could spread the abyssal plague, another month that Shara and Uldane would be fighting the demons without his help. He glanced over his shoulder at the inn building that had already been their home for a month’s time. A few other stranded travelers sat on the porch nearby, watching the sky with an equal mixture of hope and irritation.

  “I’ve also heard it said it’s not wise to pretend you know what the gods intend,” Kri said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  “The priest is right.” A tall man swathed in an emerald cloak settled into a seat at the next table and spoke loud enough for the other travelers on the porch to hear. “Blessed Sehanine will open the Moon Door if it pleases her to allow us into the Feywild.”

  Albanon noticed the moon-shaped pin that fastened the man’s cloak, identifying him as a devotee of the moon god, one of the deities traditionally revered by the fey folk. Then the man pulled his hood back to reveal the long, pointed ears and opalescent eyes of an eladrin.

  “They say Sehanine and Melora must agree to open the Moon Door,” Cham said. “ ‘Sehanine swells the light of the moon and Melora parts the veil of cloud.’ It seems to me it’s Melora we’re waiting on.”

  “When you should be waiting on me, innkeeper,” the eladrin said. “Bring me a glass of whatever my kinsman there is drinking.” He pointed at Albanon’s untouched glass.

  “Of course, good master. I apologize.” Cham bobbed in a bow and disappeared back inside.

  “My name is Immeral,” the eladrin said, reaching a hand toward Albanon.

  “Albanon.” He clasped Immeral’s hand in greeting, then turned back to his wine.

  “Heading home?”

  A flash of annoyance stung Albanon. He had left his family estate years ago to study magic with a human wizard, Moorin. Now Moorin was dead, but the old wizard’s tower had become his home. The thought of returning to his family had never seriously occurred to him. “No,” he said after a moment. “My friend and I have other business in the Feywild.” On his shoulder, Splendid roused enough from her sleep to give an irritated chirp. Moorin’s pseudodragon was not at all pleased with Albanon’s plan to accompany Kri into the Feywild, and she had made her displeasure known frequently and loudly over the course of the last month.

  Kri extended his hand to the eladrin as well. “I’m Kri Redshal,” he said.

  Immeral shook Kri’s hand but never shifted his attention from Albanon. “In Celduilon?” he asked. Celduilon was the eladrin city closest to the other side of the Moon Door, and the most common destination for travelers from Moonstair. A longer journey through the Feywild was not something most mortals undertook lightly.

  “No,” Albanon said, glancing at Kri. The priest’s frown was barely noticeable, but Albanon got the message. He didn’t trust Immeral’s curiosity. He fingered his wine glass, trying to decide how to deflect the eladrin’s questions. “Our business …”

  “Our business is nothing anyone else would find interesting in the least,” Kri interjected, smiling broadly and shifting his chair closer to Immeral’s line of sight. “But what of you, my friend? No doubt you’re returning home to Celduilon.”

  Albanon saw a look of annoyance flit across Immeral’s face, but the eladrin wrenched his mouth into a polite smile as he turned to Kri. “My home is not within the city, but yes. My lord’s business has kept me in Moonstair for entirely too long, and I am eager to rest in my own chambers tonight, Sehanine permit it.”

  Albanon stared into the overcast sky again, grateful to Kri for distracting Immeral’s attention. He’d rarely spoken to another eladrin since leaving years ago, and he found the subject of his Feywild home distinctly uncomfortable. Kri led Immeral through a conversational labyrinth, to a range of topics safely distant from their business in the Feywild, and Albanon lost himself in the play of moonlight filtering through the shifting blanket of thick clouds.

  He was dimly aware of the two men discussing the history of Moonstair when he realized what he was seeing. “The clouds are parting!” he blurted, interrupting Kri’s discourse on some ancient troll kingdom in the region. The moonlight was growing brighter, and as he glanced at the river he saw colored lights beginning to shift and swirl in the air over the rocky island that held the Moon Door. “The door is opening!”

  His words sparked a bustle of excited activity on the porch and inside the inn as travelers gathered their belongings, settled their accounts, and said their farewells. Albanon lifted his pack to his shoulder, dislodging Splendid, who took to the air in a flurry of wings before settling back on top of his pack. He swallowed the last of his wine and hurried after Kri to reach the portal before it closed once more.

  “You’re determined to go through with this, then?” Splendid said in his ear.

  “Nothing has changed, Splendid. Moorin would have wanted me to do this.”

  “Moorin was content to stay safe in his tower and teach you there. I still don’t understand how you can let it lie vacant like this. That tower should be yours.”

  “If it’s mine, I can choose what to do with it. I’ll go back to it eventually. You’re free to wait for me there.”

  “And eat what? The rats that are certainly crawling all over the place now?”

  Albanon smiled. “Well, someone has to get rid of them.”

  “I am not a mouser!”

  “Oh, well, I’m sure you’re good for something.”

  Splendid hissed and fell silent on his pack, sulking.

  A gravel pathway led from the inn’s porch around the small keep that served as the mayor’s home and out to the series of rocky islets that gave the town of Moonstair its name. As they reached the rushing water of the river, the face of the moon appeared full and bright in the sky, and the aurora over the river blossomed into a riotous explosion of color.

  Albanon helped Kri jump from one islet to the next until they reached the rocky slope of the last island. A well-worn path took them to a tiny plateau encircled by a ring of moss and dotted with flowers that retained their spring bloom despite the autumn chill. Silver and blue light danced in sheets and ribbons through the air above the faerie ring like a cascade of moonlight spilling from the sky. Where the light touched the ground at the center of the ring, it formed the faint outline of a doorway, the Moon Door.

  Immeral rejoined them, now mounted on a dusky gray horse with dry brambles woven into its mane. “Well, Albanon,” he said, “perhaps I’ll see you on the other side and we can continue the conversation we never quite began.” He reached down to shake Albanon’s hand, then turned with a smile to Kri. “And Kri Redshal, your skill at diversion and misdirection is worthy of the fey. I salute you.” He clenched a fist over his heart, nodded to the old priest, and guided his horse to the Moon Door. The light danced and shimmer
ed around him as he rode into the portal. He paused in the center, looked around with a broad smile on his face, then spurred his horse and disappeared.

  Albanon and Kri fell into a vague line with the handful of other travelers and shuffled toward the portal, waiting their turn to cross into the Feywild. Albanon felt a gnawing dread and thought one last time about turning back, going to find Shara and Uldane. They could use him, he suspected. Vestapalk’s demonic exarchs and their bestial minions were rampaging across the Nentir Vale, carrying havoc and destruction with them and spreading the abyssal plague. After leaving the Temple of Yellow Skulls, they had decided to split up-Shara and Uldane, with the drow they had rescued from the dragon, were looking for signs of the dragon’s new lair while Albanon and Kri ventured into the Feywild in search of something-anything-that might help them defeat the dragon when they found it. One of the founding members of the Order of Vigilance, Kri had explained, had been an eladrin noblewoman, and they sought her tower and her library in the hopes that they might find some knowledge that hadn’t been passed down through the order. Albanon worried what might happen to Shara and Uldane without his magic, though, and without Kri’s power and guidance.

  Well, Shara and Uldane could take care of themselves, and he’d see them again. He had made a commitment to Kri to stay with him and learn more of his Order of Vigilance. He wasn’t going to fail in that commitment just because it meant traveling dangerously close to his family home.

  Stepping into the portal was like settling into a warm bath, though the chill didn’t fade from the air. At first everything muted-the roar of the river around the rocks below, the chirping of frogs and crickets on shore, the evening bustle of the town behind him, and even Splendid’s yowl of alarm. A moment later, the world erupted into vibrant life. Frogs and night birds sang a chorus; the air was awash with autumn scents; the moonlight painted the flowers in iridescent blue, silver, and violet; and the rushing of the river became a complex symphony. The pseudodragon leaped from Albanon’s pack and circled him in the air, surprised and excited by the new experience.