Paying the Tolls

[Cirath]

The road had been clear for miles, no farms, villages, or any other signs of civilization to be seen. So far, the trip had been fruitless. Though the number of corpses he had left strewn in his path should have been satisfying, he had begun this trek in search of hosts, and so far had turned up nothing. He was still quite certain that Luskan would provide a number of suitable candidates, though.

As he strode along a heavily used section of road, the one that was Cirath caught wind of a familiar scent. It wasn’t a fresh trail, perhaps a day old, but he had almost put a face to it when several others mingled in with it. It seemed that this stretch of road would not be as empty as it appeared.

He took in the area for a moment. The road itself was hard packed dirt with a pair of half inch deep grooves dug by wagon wheels, the land to either side rose in a fair slope, and both sides were shaded by a fairly thick copse of trees. A slight breeze carried the smell of unwashed bodies, a ray of sunlight broke through the trees to his left, glinting off a bit of steel, somewhere ahead, a twig snapped. Even without his heightened senses, his host’s instincts screamed ambush.

He kept walking, as if unaware. After days of untrained, easily dispatched farmers, it would be good to encounter some more powerful hosts. It was another half mile before the bandits made their move. The first two arrows struck the ground a few feet ahead of him, and several figures broke from the tree line. The pair behind him could have been brothers, both large blonde haired men in mismatched bits of leather armor. Both men had noses that had been broken more than once, both had sloped brows and a dull look in their eyes that made it clear that all of their strength was in their arms, and not their wits.

After a quick glance at the twins, he turned his attention to the three in front of him. On the right was a thin, nimble looking young man who seemed to be working on his first moustache. Despite his age, he seemed to know how to use the short sword he was brandishing. On the left was a rather fat individual with a very large crossbow. Judging from the two shafts in the dirt at the one that was Cirath’s feet, there was at least one other archer hiding in the trees.

Finally, there was the one in the middle, who wasn’t a human at all, or, at least not entirely human. His height, greenish skin, and small tusks were evidence of the orcish half of his ancestry. He, like the blondes, didn’t appear to be the brightest of sorts, but between his face, his size, and the large axe he was leaning on, he was probably the most impressive looking one in the bunch. The half-orc looked over what he must have thought was an ordinary traveler and grunted. “Gimme yer money and we won’t have ta hurt ya, little man,” he said. The thing posing as Cirath was only half listening, though. He had caught wind of that familiar scent once more, and was trying to place it in his mind.

Irritated at being ignored, the greenish man scowled and stepped forward. Reaching out a hand the size of a small ham, he pushed his victim roughly. “I’m talkin’ to you, shrimp! Fork over some gold or I’m gonna break you in half.” Pulling his attention back to his present situation, the being inside the assassin took one last, deep breath, and without a word, reached out and grabbed the leader by his piecemail armor. With a violent shove, he sent the half-orc flying into his fat companion, and both went down in a tangle of limbs.

Moving impossibly fast, he took hold of the thin boy’s wrist and snapped it, twisting the shattered limb backwards to thrust the blade it still held into the boy’s chest even as his first scream of pain was exploding from his throat. As he dispatched the boy, the pair from behind both jumped on him. They were every bit as strong as they looked, and exhibited quite a bit of skill in grappling. Off his guard for a moment, the twins forced him to his knees as the half-orc and the archer regained their feet. Shifting to gain leverage, the thing impersonating Cirath flung one of the blondes off of him, sending the man staggering backwards as he tried to keep his feet.

The leader hefted his axe and closed just as the crossbow was raised and fired. The creature pulled hard on the other muscle-bound man that was struggling with him, forcing him into the path of the projectile. The steel arrowhead punched through the man’s back and a sharp rush of breath shot from him as it pushed through a lung. Free from restraining hands, the host rolled forward, narrowly missing the full force of the half-breed’s axe. Instead, the blade simply clipped his shoulder, not causing enough damage to even slow him down.

Seeing his approach, the fat man gave up trying to load the crossbow, deciding instead to drop it and run for the safety of the trees. As he waddled away, an arrow whizzed by him, striking what had been the assassin squarely in the left shoulder, proving that there had, in fact, been another archer in the trees. The fat man didn’t get very far before his own crossbow struck him in the back. The force of the impact was so great that a loud crack sounded from the weapon in unison with the scream of pain that erupted from the obese bandit. After two more steps, he fell to the dirt, vomiting blood.

Then there were just the half-orc and the creature, the twins having limped off into the trees at the sight of their dying companions. The possessed man rounded on his final assailant, ripping the arrow free from his shoulder and tossing it aside as he turned. The highwayman hesitated a moment, wondering how he could have misjudged his prey so badly. The creature lunged for the throat, outstretched hand curled into a claw. The half-orc raised his axe, using the flat of the blade like a shield, and braced himself just in time to meet the blow. The steel groaned as the impact reshaped it, bending the blade into a concave.

Not stopping to wonder at the power behind that attack, the orc-man rolled with it and swung full circle, slamming the deformed weapon like a mallet into his opponent’s side. The wind exploded from the creature’s lungs, and he flew from his feet, sliding into the gutter. Only stunned for a moment, he was back on his feet before the second attack came. This time he sidestepped the axe and moved in to counter. Thrusting his fist into the orc’s side, what had been Cirath was rewarded with the feeling of ribs shattering and an “oof” sound.

The axe fell to the ground, and the half-orc doubled over in pain. The creature took this opportunity to wrap a hand around his thick neck and pull him closer. Taking a deep whiff, he said, half to himself, “You might do…” Then, suddenly, his expression changed and his grip tightened. With a great jet of blood, the half-orc’s throat was crushed and he slumped to the ground, dead. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he continued, “…maybe not.”

That hadn’t been him. The old self had slipped in once again. He was getting better at it with each passing day. The creature tried to slam shut the door to the prison, forcing the old self back into the void, but something was wrong. He could not fully force the other out this time. “I know you are there,” he said aloud, “watching, waiting for the chance to strike. I know how much you hate me.” He spoke to the air, no emotion in his voice, but a flicker of doubt in his mind. “Give up, or I will destroy you utterly the next time.” With one final push, he forced the other presence out of his vessel. Or, at least, he thought he did.

Glaring down at the corpse at his feet, he frowned. The half-breed might have made a good host. Stripping off the bloody shirt, he examined his wounds, which were healing so quickly that he could watch the flesh knitting. Satisfied, he retrieved another shirt from the small satchel on his back and dressed. He leaned over and washed the drying blood off his hand with his victim’s water skin, then straightened and stared down the road once more. He had to hold out hope for Luskan. He had completely forgotten that familiar scent.

[Lilira]

I moved as quickly up the road as my feet would take me. The acrid smell of smoke wafted into my nose. I noticed a trail that led from the road into the woods. Carefully I followed it into an area that had been cleared for farming, and then saw the source of the smoke.

The house and all the outbuildings had been burned into a smoldering pile of ashes. Sickened and torn between searching for survivors and trying to catch the monster to prevent any more deaths, I decided for the latter. Flitting one last glance over the smoking timbers, I hurried back to the road and began my song once more, heading towards the bandit hideout, summoning a cloak of invisibility to surround me.

A day later I reached my goal. A hint of movement made me glad I had kept my invisibility up. I slipped into the shadows as best as I could as an added precaution and climbed a sturdy tree that overlooked the road, hoping as I did so that I had gotten ahead of him.

I’m not sure how long I perched there, as I dozed off. I awoke to the sound of voices. The bandits I had spotted had stopped someone on the road. I almost betrayed myself by gasping. It _was_ him. There was something about his eyes. They were black, just as Kendren had described to me.

I watched as he dispatched two of the bandits, my heart in my throat. I sat as still as a statue, hoping, no praying to whomever would listen, that he wouldn’t see me. When the half-orc lay dead, his throat crushed, Cirath froze, a battle going on behind his eyes, the black clearing to reveal his steel grey eyes. He looked toward where I was sitting, willing myself to become part of the tree, and spoke.

“I know you are there,” he said, that emotionless voice sending shivers up my spine, “watching, waiting for the chance to strike. I know how much you hate me.” I blinked for a moment. Not even right after our last meeting did I ever _hate_ him. Fear him? Yes. Hate? I’m not sure I’m capable of it. He continued, “Give up, or I will destroy you utterly the next time.” Once more that battle behind his eyes. His eyes clouded over again. He removed his blood-soaked shirt and I bit back a gasp as the wounds the bandits had inflicted on the assassin healed before my eyes. No song or spell aided its healing. He cleaned himself up with water from one of the bandit’s water skins, and headed north, as though he had forgotten my existence. I waited, willing myself not to move, for what seemed like hours. The sun moved in its course until its rays pierced the tree and warmed my face.

The heat of the sun reminded me. I reached into my pouch pulling out the hard pea-sized chrysalis Sotana had given me. As she directed, I cupped the ruby colored orb in my hands and breathed on it. I felt a tickle in my palm. I held it back from my face and watched with fascination as the cocoon broke open revealing a tiny scarlet colored moth. It perched on my palm for a moment, fanning its wings to start the blood flow into them. In just moments it took flight, moving rapidly away. I quickly lost sight of the tiny creature, and leaned back in the tree to wait.

[Vixen]

Daylight found me trotting steadily north along the High Road of the Northlands, comfortable in the familiar fox shape I had assumed at the beginning of my journey. Her scent grew stronger as I traveled but now the breezes carried another smell I knew well. Blood. I could feel my hackles rise as I involuntarily increased my pace, frightened by what I would find on the road ahead of me. I had taken this detour with the hope of settling my persistent worries by a quick visit to ensure Lilira was safely out of harm’s way but what if I confirmed my worst fears instead? Forcing the blind panic out of my mind, I focused on my vulpine instincts, knowing I would need to tread very carefully if that thing was anywhere in the area. My sensitive nose detected a whiff of something I was unable to identify, its nature alien and somehow perverted. Unfortunately, the smell of fresh blood was becoming so overpowering that it was difficult to sort out any other scents, heightening my instinct for caution while simultaneously making it harder to ignore my fear. I was close now. And then I saw it. Two large corpses lay in the middle of a bend in the road. The kill was fresh, only a few hours old at most....and most undoutedly NOT Lilira. Then where was she? Concentrating carefully, I followed her scent to the base of one of the trees bordering the road then looked up to see her, blinking slowly in the sunlight as she crawled down from the shadows of the branches and leaves that had hidden her.

Aware of the relief washing through me, I rubbed my head affectionately against her knee. Lilira smiled at me and said quietly, “There you are Vixen,” as she crouched down to my level, carefully gathering me close and burying her unusually pale face in my fur.

“I hope you weren’t here earlier,” Lilira murmured.

What had happened here? The corpses. I needed to know more so I wriggled carefully out of her arms and padded softly over to one of the still bodies, sniffing it gingerly. Underlying the metallic tang of the blood were the traces of something else...that smell again...familiar yet....off somehow.

“Bandits,” Lilira said wearily from across the road. “They won’t plague travelers anymore.”

Bandits maybe. But this had been no ordinary kill of self-defense. An enormous axe lay next to one of the bodies, the entire surface of the steel head warped and curved into a shape its forger had never intended. What would have the strength to do this?!? A cold knot began to grow in the pit of my stomach. What exactly had Lilira witnessed? Shivering slightly, I returned to her, pressing my warmth against her side as I sensed her need for solace.

“I can't believe it was him.” Lilira murmured to herself. “I thought he was dead....I think this is worse.”

I froze. She couldn’t possibly mean who I thought she meant. I looked up into her face intently, wanting her to speak, to give me more information but she remained silent. Her face was strained, her eyes haunted so I reached up, placing both paws gently on her knee as I stretched to press my cold nose against her cheek, offering the only comfort I could devise.

Her voice sounded a little lost as she said, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I need help.” Then she looked down at me, holding me affectionately as she smiled slightly. “Hmm. You always seem to know when to pop up.” If she only knew.

There was help to be found if only she thought to ask but how to communicate that to her?? Willing her to understand I pulled back slightly, holding her gaze with my own fierce one for a full minute as she returned my stare in some confusion. In frustration I dropped back down onto all fours, trying to decide how best to convey my message. Lilira abandoned her crouch to sit down in the grass lining the roadway. She stared into the distance, her eyes unfocused.

“I sent for Sotana. If she can, she’ll come.” she said unexpectedly.

Well that was a start.

“Now who else?” she mused then shrugged helplessly, glancing over at me and flashing me a wry grin. “I’ll figure something out. None of my messages have been answered.”

Her eyes grew distant again as she turned her gaze to something I could not see.

After a time, she began to murmur again, continuing her earlier conversation with herself. “I don’t even know what it is... It’s HIS body, but it was weird....like a battle going on behind his eyes. And he was so strong. That was the scary part. Actually, I don’t know if it was the strength, or the fact that he healed right before my eyes. No songs, no spells. Then he calmly cleaned himself up, spoke to me...Somehow it seems he knew I was here....and headed north.”

I blinked quickly a moment, tension tightening my muscles as I stared at Lilira. A recent conversation with a friend flashed through my mind...we had discussed demons, and gods...and dead who were somehow not dead but not quite alive either...rather, their bodies were...inhabited. A low growl began to rumble in my throat as I considered the magnitude of the threat Lilira could be facing. Knowing her, she would not back down, in spite of the fact that she was so obviously ill-equipped to deal with such a powerful menace. My mind formed a picture of Lilira’s body, bloody and lifeless like the ones rotting in the heat of the sun before me now...the inevitable conclusion of a confrontation she couldn’t possibly meet alone. I felt a shudder ripple though me at the image.

Lilira stared into the distance for some time longer then suddenly blinked and looked around her.

“Well, I’m not going to get anything accomplished here.” she said, rising briskly to her feet, her voice more firm and sure than it had been earlier in her musings.

“Coming?” she asked then turned and headed north without a backward glance.

I remained where she had left me for a moment then turned and trotted southward. It looked like I had some work to do and very little time to spare.

[sotana]

The sun travelled its slow path across the sky as I sat with my face upturned toward its warmth, my eyes closed, waiting patiently for the summons I knew would come. I had lost track of time, lulled into a pleasant trance by the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shores far below me, reveling in the unfamiliar smell of salt water and sea life. Finally the waiting was at an end and I opened my eyes as the messenger appeared, a vivid crimson streak against the cloudless blue of the sky. I remained still as the glimmerwing approached, merely holding out one hand for its perch. The tiny creature sat quietly on my outstretched palm, gently fanning its delicate wings in the light breeze, its brilliant color gradually growing more intense until it was blinding in its brilliance. A breath later I held nothing more than a handful of light grey powder which scattered at the touch of the wind to reveal a minute, dull red object huddled in my palm. I touched it lightly with one finger, prodding it gently until it shuddered, unfurling gossamer wings the same muted shade as its body. For a moment it hovered there on my hand, testing its new wings then it was gone, riding the currents and disappearing upward into the sky. The glimmerwing had completed its task and finished its life cycle, giving rise to new life....and I had received my summons. Rising slowly to my feet, I gathered my cloak about me then began the incantations to create the moonwell that would carry me to Lilira.