City of Torment

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Darroch Castle, Feywild

Japheth tumbled into a dark well of his own making. He lunged for the collapsing edges of his cloak, straining to hold himself in the world. He failed, his fingers were already clenched around the Dreamheart. From it, energy trickled into his flesh, and from his flesh into his cloak. A cloak whose folds held hidden corridors. The Dreamheart opened a chasm and he fell out of Faerun and toward its fey echo. Without Anusha.

Japheth struggled for breath, as much from the pain spiking his chest as from the realization he'd left Anusha behind. The crazed, sword-wielding monk, so desperate to destroy the stone, had her now. He groaned, trying to reverse his fall through darkness bounded by what seemed to be fluttering bat wings. The traversal was taking far longer than it ever had before.

Why so long? Probably because he hadn't left his cloak behind to serve as a bridge. With no clear starting point, he was adrift. Could he become lost in this nonspace among the boundaries between the planes?

His heart took on a cadence more akin to the frantic flapping all around him. Japheth pulled more energy out of the Dreamheart and concentrated on the Feywild cavern that held Darroch Castle.

A haze of new strength wormed up Japheth's arms, warm and sickening. He seized that strength and tried to concentrate on his destination.

Instead, crazed images sleeted across his consciousness.

He saw a mountain-sized obelisk, scarred and pitted with time's unforgiving passage, held in the deep earth's firm grasp. But time's scars couldn't hide the obelisk's awful visage, its towering size and breadth, and the dark cavities that opened into a tunneled, hollow interior. The obelisk swarmed with gobbets of living slime. One was larger than all the rest, it reclined atop the obelisk like a throne. The mere suggestion of its visage yanked a scream from his lips.

The image blurred away but was replaced by another. It was Anusha, in a misted place. She was trying to tell him something, something very important. Her eyes were wild with the intensity of her desire to be heard.

Japheth recognized his dream. But he wasn't sleeping. The forlorn image assaulted his waking mind. The vision coiled up out of the Dreamheart like smoke lifting off burning incense.

The warlock dropped the Dreamheart. "No!" he said, straining for it as he and the sphere fell into the cave of Darroch Castle.

He tumbled into a heap, managing to save his head by throwing his arms in front of his face.

The Dreamheart rolled a few feet, then caught up in a gully.

Japheth got to his feet. His chest felt like it was on fire, and now his arms hurt too.

He regarded the shadowed keep, home of the Lord of Bats. A central spire rose above the castle walls. Immense wings stretched out from each side of the castle's spire, rapacious and dragonlike in their span. The cavern ceiling was a stalactite-toothed expanse thick with chittering bats.

He retrieved the relic, using the folds of his cloak to insulate his skin from its touch. Probably should have done that last time, he reflected.

When he was in the world, he stored bulky items in the cloak's extraspatial depths. Could he do the same here?

He concentrated, then passed the orb into it. The Dreamheart disappeared.

Suddenly alarmed, he reversed the process. The sphere returned. Satisfied, he banished it again. Whatever odd space items disappeared into when he stored them, the facility remained operational in the Feywild too.

Japheth advanced, treading on a growth of purple mushrooms-the same damned caps he'd used to brew Anusha's elixir of sleep. He stamped once for good measure, then moved on.

At the gates, he called, "Open!"

Wrinkled homunculi peered at him over the walls, then ducked back. A moment later, the gate mechanism clanged and chattered. The gate slabs opened like the petals of a black dahlia. He proceeded down the entry gauntlet into the foyer lit by emerald firelight, past a shadowed pool, and up four flights of stairs guarded by silent, motionless figures in obscuring shrouds.

Japheth burst into the grand study slightly out of breath. His eyes slid past the paintings, the sculptures, and the collected oddities of centuries. He studied the balcony overlooking the chamber. The balcony was bare but for an iron door. It was closed.

The warlock blew his cheeks out in relief. He'd half expected to find the Lord of Bats standing there waiting for him, free of the compulsion Japheth had trapped him with.

He ascended the stairs, pulled out a key, and unlocked the door.

A feast was laid out in the room beyond.

Yellow light flickered across a great oak table. Chocolates were heaped on silver platters, pale green grapes tumbled from golden urns, and violet wines sparkled in crystal decanters. Chairs lined the sides of the table, each one a tale of unique workmanship.

A man sat in the chair at the head of the table. He was thin, bald, and pale, with narrow squinting eyes, pointed ears, and drab black clothes.

He wasn't really a man, of course. He was an archfey named Neifion in his least form. He sat as he always sat, where Japheth had bound him, in a Feast Never Ending.

Neifion looked up. His eyes narrowed on Japheth, but he said nothing as he chewed a portion of rare meat.

Blood dribbled from his lips.

"Lord of Bats," Japheth said. "Greetings. I have need of your aid."

"You're still alive?" Neifion asked, and sawed another slice of flank steak from his plate.

"For the moment. Had any more visits from your friends?"

The archfey shrugged, then quaffed a large quantity of wine from the decanter at his left, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. If anything, the decanter seemed fuller than it was before the Lord of Bats drank from it.

Japheth could compel the creature to answer truthfully, but he decided to save his energies. Neither the interfering eladrin noble nor Anusha's half brother Behroun were there- that was obvious. Soon Japheth would be on his way.

"Malyanna has been here since you fled with your tail between your legs, now that you mention it," Neifion volunteered, his voice casual. "She and her pet human are eager for the wealth I'll deliver them when they destroy your pact stone. Me, I'm eager for a taste of your liver. I can't decide between one big braised steak or many small slices good for frying and dipping in chocolate sauce. What do you think?"

Japheth kept his face expressionless. He said, "If Malyanna and Behroun planned on breaking the pact stone, they would have already. They're playing you, Neifion. They have no intention of ever helping you."

The Lord of Bats grimaced. He plunged his fork into a glistening miniature sugared pear and shoved it into his mouth. He announced, matter-of-factly, "I shall murder you in a manner so hideous that Orcus himself will grow pale to think on it."

"Neifion, I command you, cease with your threats for today."

The Lord of Bats froze in his seat, shuddered as if with the slightest of chills, then continued eating.

The warlock studied the pale figure, wondering if his command had accidentally dislodged Neifion from the enchanted feast.

The Lord of Bats sucked down another bloody red tomato, but his eyes never left Japheth's. His gaze was as red as the fruit he ate. Japheth looked away.

This was going to be difficult. He risked his life and probably even his soul in tampering with Neifion's magical confinement. But the eladrin noble and Lord Marhana would probably free the Lord of Bats soon enough.

Better Japheth do so in a manner that might, if he were careful, preserve his tentative control over the Lord of Bats's actions.

"Neifion," he began, "you will help me achieve an end I seek. In return for your pledged aid-aid free of any duplicity-I will release you from the Feast Never Ending. What say you?"

"I assent," the Lord of Bats instantly replied. Then he laughed, sending malign echoes darting around the hall.

Japheth knew the creature was trying to rattle him- well, he hoped so. If the Lord of Bats had planned for this moment, then Japheth was probably already dead.

The warlock squared his shoulders and pressed on. "Then make your pledge, Neifion. If I do not like it, you'll stay seated until you devise one I do."

The hairless man touched his nose with a slender, bloodless finger. He looked up as if searching for inspiration in the rafters. Then he spoke. "If you release me from the Feast Never Ending, Japheth my pact — stealing prodigal, I swear to act as your ally, to treat you as I would a friend despite my hate and hunger, and to not secretly work against your goals. I swear this on the pact stone itself, the source of your power over me and the conduit by which you borrow my abilities. I swear all these things if you release me now."

Japheth thought through the man's words. He'd have liked to scribe them and spend the night studying each one.

He'd have liked to ask the creature to also swear on his title, the Lord of Bats, and on the cloak he wore-Neifion's lesser skin, the Shroud of Wings. But time wasn't his ally. He waved his hand and spoke. "Stand from the Feast Never Ending, Neifion, and keep your word lest the Feast pull you back and bind you eternally."

The pale man slowly pushed back from the table. He wiped his chin on his dark sleeve and stood. He screamed in a voice suddenly deeper and more resonant than before, "Free!"

Japheth involuntarily took a half pace back.

Neifion grinned, cocked his head to the side, and said, "What crazed effort have you in mind, my future meal, that you would risk holding me off at the end of a sworn oath?"

Japheth considered, but before he could answer, the Lord of Bats motioned toward the exit and said, "Let's talk in the grand study. This place is no longer to my taste." The creature guffawed at his own pun, then brushed past Japheth and exited the room of his long confinement.

The warlock followed the Lord of Bats down into the grand study, wondering if he was allowing the archfey too much autonomy.

Neifion stood in the center of the ornamental chamber and stretched, grinning around with undisguised glee.

"It's good to see my collections again."

Japheth moved to a large overstuffed leather chair and threw himself down. He was exhausted. It was good to sit.

The Lord of Bats snapped his fingers. Something in the wall shifted, and a wrinkled homunculus crawled out of a hole in the wainscoting. Neifion, his grin still intact, said, "Fetch me some real food!"

The creature scampered off down the main stairs without a glance at Japheth. The skin on the warlock's face tightened. Should he gainsay Neifion's request? No. The oath Neifion swore didn't prevent the creature from taking his own initiative. However, commanding the actions of his old servitors, which was a right Japheth retained, tread dangerously close to a freedom the warlock didn't want to contemplate.

Since he'd gained control of the castle and the Lord of Bats's servitors, Japheth had refrained from calling upon many of the powers that were his due. He'd worried he might wake some resonance between Neifion and an old perquisite of his station powerful enough to shake the creature from his enchanted feast-or worse, from the poorly worded pact that had allowed Japheth to assume control of far more than the Lord of Bats ever meant to allow.

But even if he hadn't feared releasing the Lord of Bats by making free use of the creature's resources, Japheth didn't like to demand service of the homunculi too often. When he did so, he always felt guilty. Their origin was too ghastly.

The little horrors were once humans, or eladrin maybe. Their sad appearance was what was left after the Lord of Bats slaked his soul and blood thirst on each. What remained was a dried-up husk of flesh and spirit, a wrinkled remnant whose mind retained only enough wit to follow the commands of the Lord of Bats and whose body hovered somewhere between life and necromantic animation. Japheth hadn't delved into it closely enough to determine which was the case.

Neifion glanced at Japheth, at Japheth's cloak, then yelled down the stairs after the patter of tiny feet, "And bring me a suit from my wardrobe! The obsidian ensemble. Don't forget the boots!"

Japheth watched the Lord of Bats move around the chamber, waving his arms and stamping his legs as if to force feeling into them. The enchantment of the Feast Never Ending had kept Neifion preserved against death, obesity, and even the need for a toilet. Regardless, the creature probably was somewhat stiff after having been forced to sit for the last few years, despite his enchanted repast and his own supernatural vigor.

Then an image of Anusha sleeping for tendays came to Japheth and he grimaced. Keeping the girl fed and healthy had required a magical working. Luckily, he'd hit on adapting an aspect of the Feast Never Ending that kept her alive so long as she slept. One more injustice he'd dealt Anusha. At least she wouldn't perish of malnutrition.

After that, he'd spent all his time trying to devise a ritual to free her mind. And now the girl was shorn from him, in Raidon's hands.

Would the half-elf look after her? Yes. The monk was a self-proclaimed hero. He'd appeared out of nowhere to help Anusha free Japheth and the others. Instead of fleeing in the face of almost certain death, like any common person, he'd helped them defeat Gethshemeth.

But now Raidon was apparently working with Captain Thoster and Seren… and those two were likely to toss the girl aside if her care became inconvenient. Then again, perhaps they'd see that keeping her safe was a bargaining chip useful against him. Maybe they'd think they could trade her for the Dreamheart. To do so, they'd have to keep Anusha safe.

Either way, a champion like Raidon would protect Anusha regardless of how the other two might use her to influence Japheth. Right?

He uttered a silent plea to the uncaring gods that Anusha remain secure in his absence.

An ornate device of golden metal squatting in one corner clicked and began to chime, pulling the warlock from his reverie.

The Lord of Bats was still in the chamber He was just shrugging into a stylishly cut black coat, one whose perfectly tailored lines screamed great expense. A homunculus stood to one side, still holding black gloves, a bloodred cravat, and a pair of supple leather boots.

"Neifion," the warlock said, "we need to travel down, below the world's crust where no tunnels reach."

"The world? You want me to cross over to the other side?"

Japheth nodded.

The Lord of Bats cracked a rare smile of pleasure and said, "I think this new accommodation between us may work out after all." He adjusted his cravat with hands the color of porcelain. Even when he'd possessed his full complement of power, the creature had a difficult time entering the world without an invitation.

"Passing back into Toril is the least of our tasks. Do you know a way to travel as deeply below ground as I have indicated?"

Neifion put a finger to his chin. "How did you arrive here still wearing the cloak? Even for one such as I, the skin must be left behind to serve as a bridge."

Some inner instinct warned Japheth against revealing the relic. "I utilized, ah, a ritual to provide extra energy. It was enough to pull the far end of the path along with me."

"Then use the same ritual again, maggot. You managed to travel all the way here with a single step. Shouldn't be any harder to get anywhere else. And I think I would like to learn this ritual for myself. Sounds like an impressive bit of sorcery." The pale creature in its black noble's garb squinted at Japheth in a speculative fashion.

The more he considered revealing his possession of the Dreamheart to the nearly free-willed Lord of Bats, the worse the idea sounded. He'd do so only if Neifion couldn't provide some other method.

Japheth finally replied, "I used up the components for that ritual, and I can't procure more without months of searching. We are nearly out of time. I need a quicker option. Do you have any?"

The Lord of Bats brushed some unseen piece of lint from his sleeves. "I know you're lying to me, 'ally,' but let's leave that for now. I know several other ways to travel, even through water or solid earth should it come to it. In my centuries of existence, many creatures have made pacts with me and yet owe me favors. I know one who will provide the kind of transport you desire."

"One we can ride safely wherever I direct?"

"Nay, one who will lower us through dimensional barriers in an enchanted planar bell, a trek bell. A trek bell already in my collection. I used it when I sought out one of the fomorian courts, hoping to draw the malformed ones into a pact of mutual convenience."

"I don't know what a trek bell is. Tell me."

"That doesn't surprise me, given your atrophied wit. Follow me and you'll find out," said the Lord of Bats. He walked down the side hall plastered with faded tapestries.

Japheth followed. A couple of homunculi fell in behind, but Japheth shooed them away. The Lord of Bats glanced back and frowned, but held his tongue.

The warlock had ventured down the tapestried passage once after gaining control of the castle. The musty smell of the wall hangings had turned his stomach, and he abandoned his exploration after opening three or four doors onto rooms heaped with nameless detritus. Neifion marched to a door about halfway down the hall. It slammed open with the Lord of Bats's merest touch, sending echoes down the corridor. He glanced back and nodded. "I keep many interesting things back here.

Some quite lethal. It's fortunate you never poked around back here without me. Heh. Fortunate for you, I mean."

Japheth followed the archfey into a high chamber thick with the odor of mildew and old rot. Objects whose true shapes were shrouded beneath oilskin tarps cluttered the space.

Neifion wound his way to the chamber's far end, where a large article stood alone beneath a swath of fabric.

With a showman's flourish, Neifion whipped away the tarp.

A dull iron bell stood on wooden blocks. It was immense. If actually a bell, it must have once swung in the belfry of a temple whose prayer call reverberated for miles. The warlock figured four or five people could easily fit up inside with room to spare.

Runes with angular, harsh lines traced a spiraling path around the bell. The strange letters reminded the warlock of the Dwarvish script, but these seemed more primitive.

"This is a trek bell. It will protect us in nearly any medium," said the Lord of Bats. "And it can be lowered through earth and stone as easily as through water, or even through dimensional walls under certain circumstances."

"Hmm," replied Japheth. "What about the clapper?"

"It has none."

"Ah. How does pne enter?"

Neifion said, "It doesn't surprise me a moron like you couldn't figure that out. The entire bottom is open-it's called a moon well. Means entrance and view port all in one. This trek bell has two chambers, each large enough for a couple of travelers of your size. Easily large enough to accommodate you and me, and perhaps a servitor or two."

Japheth kneeled by the bell and looked beneath, careful not to dislodge the wooden blocks. The bell's bottom was wide open, save for a central bulwark dividing the open space in two. Each half chamber contained a curving seat, apparently for passengers. "Hmm." He did not really understand how it could work.

"You mentioned earlier," said Japheth, allowing his hand to glide along the bell's cool, smooth surface, "that you knew of an entity who would lower us in this?"

Neifion flicked his arms in a manner reminiscent of a bat fluttering its wings. "Yes. Are we ready to depart?"

"Nearly." Japheth clapped his hands and concentrated.

A flurry of winged forms swept into the chamber, followed by one of the homunculi he had chased away earlier. Apparently it hadn't gone far. The warlock pointed at the wrinkled little man and said, "Prepare a pack for me that includes two tendays' worth of dried food from the pantry. Make it a large pack with extra space.

Don't forget water!"

The homunculus scurried off, but the bats continued to flit around the chamber.

Neifion frowned. He didn't like to be reminded who actually held the reins of power in Darroch Castle. Too bad, thought Japheth.

They waited in silence. Neifion stared at Japheth, grinning with his needle-sharp teeth. The creature was happy to be free and would fight like the monster he was when it was time for Japheth to seat him again before the Feast Never Ending. Trying to imagine how he might accomplish that made the warlock's stomach hurt. The Lord of Bats wouldn't fall for the same trick twice, but it wouldn't do to leave the creature free to plot. Perhaps he would have to slay Neifion. That would strip all of Japheth's power… which wasn't an option. As soon as Japheth lost his power and patron, his addiction to traveler's dust would overwhelm him. If Japheth was to live, so must the Lord of Bats, even though the creature spent all his spare moments devising plans against the warlock.

No wonder his stomach hurt.

The homunculus returned to the chamber, hauling a large pack behind it. Japheth hoisted the pack and looked inside. The creature had done as he had asked. He sent the pack into his cloak. aI'm ready, Neifion. Get on with it."

The Lord of Bats's grin stretched wider. He was a grotesque creature, Japheth reflected. Nightmarish. And of the fey, who were known to be duplicitous. If the Lord of Bats could twist his oath or shuck himself free of it completely, he would do so without compunction. Neifion burst into a chant, his voice melodious and heavy. "O divine servant, I summon you by virtue of the pacts sworn by your masters and by the divine knowledge given me through their intervention. I conjure you by the articles of those pacts, which mark and express the strictures you cannot ignore. I conjure you by the name Mapathious, your true name-that I, having pronounced it, and I, having secured the agreement of your masters, may summon you."

The warlock listened and watched.

When Neifion fell silent, Japheth looked around. The homunculus crouched beneath the bell as if hiding. The bats he'd earlier summoned swirled one last time around the chamber and fled through the open door.

Wind screamed through the chamber, and light burst from a point in the air two paces from the Lord of Bats.

The point of brilliance swelled instantly, forming the shape of a large creature with wings of molten fire. It was humanoid, but only just. Porcelain white skin made its featureless face a mask, but for eyes the color of a glacier. The creature's lower body trailed away into ethereal mist, but its torso and arms were protected by elaborate golden plate armor. A sword of quivering lava matching its wings was clutched in one hand.

aAn angel of exploration," said Neifion. aIt will serve me, for a time. Long enough to ferry us in the trek bell to our destination."

The creature flexed its wings, dripping sizzling gobbets of magma on the floor.

"Will it answer to me?" inquired Japheth. He concentrated, looking for an answer to his own question. He sensed none of the lines of connection he usually was able to fumble for when accessing the Lord of Bats's abilities.

"You'll not leave me behind so easily," said Neifion. "The angel answers to me, and that is not a bargain I can alter. As we originally agreed, I will be accompanying you on your journey. I am your newly minted ally, and I want to personally help you achieve the success you so richly deserve."

"I'm sure."

"As your ally, I can do no less."

Japheth frowned. But he produced from his pouch the iron ring that contained a strand of Anusha's hair. "This'll help your angel find Xxiphu. The dream of her to whom it belongs is trapped there."