Maiden of Pain

CHAPTER NINE

Morning brought dull, gray skies and a chil wind that rattled gnarled branches and swirle(the fog covering the surface of the brackish ankle-high water that Ythnel and the maget trudged through. Steered by the werecroco diles, they had left behind the bogs and now traveled directly across an expanse of liquic filth. Ythnel's skin had stopped crawling at the oily touch of the water hours ago; extended exposure to the cold had numbed her from the calves down.

A small splash to her left reminded her that the two werecrocodiles in human form were not their only escort. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of two bumps, each about the size of an authokh, floating just above the waterline, but usually ripples were the only sign that their captors' brethren were keeping pace.

A wave of nausea rolled up from Ythnel's stomach, and her legs suddenly grew weak. She stumbled into the water face-first but caught herself on her hands and knees before falling fully in. Muctos, who had been marching behind her, stooped to help her up, but she pushed him away.

"What's going on?" The werecrocodile who had been at the rear strode up to Ythnel.

"I'm hungry," Ythnel said, her head still hanging down. "I haven't eaten in.. I don't know how long. I'm not going anywhere until I get some food." She slowly raised her head, defiance in her eyes. Muctos was looking at her with eyes wide. He mouthed something, but she couldn't understand.

"You wait here." The werecrocodile moved to speak with Kohtakah, the mage they had known as Brother Crocodile, at the front of the group.

"What are you up to?" Muctos asked in a harsh whisper. Before Ythnel could answer, the werecrocodile returned.

"We don't stop until we get to the city. You" He indicated Muctos."carry her." The heavyset mage frowned but helped Ythnel up then turned and offered her his back. She hopped on, looping her arms around his shoulders as he hooked his arms under her knees. The march resumed.

For the next few hours, Ythnel was passed between the mages; her weight was too much of a burden for any one of them to carry for too long. It slowed the group's progress until finally Kohtakah brought them to a halt. As though responding to some unseen signal, one of the submerged werecrocodiles reared up in a spray of water and transformed into its human shape. Kohtakah pointed at Ythnel, and the other took her from Muctos, slinging her over its shoulder so that she had a perfect view of his naked rear.

When the sky began to darken once again, the group found themselves at the edge of the river. Here the current was stronger, the water not as murky. Ythnel could see groupings of trees that marked the far bank several hundred yards away. To the north, an island sat in the mouth of the river. The island was covered in half-sunken ruins. Pillars of dried mud-brick leaned precariously, threatening to topple over and disappear beneath the surface of the swamp. With the crumbling archways and broken walls, it looked to Ythnel like a long-neglected graveyard.

"Is this your city?" Muctos asked.

"Yes," Kohtakah said, either missing or ignoring the obvious incredulity that laced the mage's question. "We will cross the river here." The werecrocodile that was carrying Ythnel set her down and proceeded to change back into his reptile form. As the transformation completed, he slithered into the water.

"How? I don't see any boats or ferries," Muctos noted. "You aren't expecting us to swim across, are you?" Ythnel hoped not. Even in the sluggish current, she knew she didn't have the strength and would likely get swept out into the bay.

"No. You will ride on our backs." Kohtakah made his own transformation and entered the water, where he was joined by three other floating reptilian forms.

The three captives looked to each other. At least one other of the werecrocodiles still stood guard in human form; who knew how many were lurking just beneath the surface of the swamp, ready to take them in a flurry of scales and teeth. Ythnel was in no shape to run. Besides, if the creatures had wanted to kill them, there had been plenty of opportunities before now. With a shrug, she stood up and waded out to one of the werecrocodiles. It swung around, and Ythnel clambered on, lying across the uncomfortable collection of hard lumps. The mages hesitated for a moment before following suit. Once everyone was loaded, the werecrocodiles pushed out into the river, letting the current take them. Ythnel could feel the powerful strokes of the creature's tail from where she was positioned, guiding them toward a point of the island where the river split.

When they were about one hundred feet from the bank of the island, Ythnel spotted movement amongst the nearest ruins. At first, she dismissed it as more werecrocodiles, but as they got closer, she caught glimpses of furry shapes with thin, whiplike tails moving in and out of the shadows on two legs. Whatever they were, the werecrocodiles did not want to meet them, for they began to shift course farther downriver. When the creatures on the island realized they had been spotted, a cry went up, and several of them came out into the open. It was then that Ythnel saw they were some sort of humanoid rat. She wondered if perhaps they were related to the werecrocodiles. The ratmen all carried bows and had them pulled taut, aiming at the werecrocodiles and their passengers. As the group passed by, the ratmen let fly, sending a hail of arrows across the river. Ythnel instinctively clutched at the werecrocodile she was riding, trying to flatten herself as much as possible as the deadly shafts plunked into the water around her. She looked around to see if any of the others had been hit, but a sharp hiss brought her gaze snapping back to find an arrow embedded in the shoulder of her escort, inches from her hand.

The werecrocodile shuddered and pitched violently, rolling onto its back and throwing Ythnel into the water. She struggled to the surface, coughing and spitting out a mouthful of river. Disoriented, Ythnel thrashed in momentary panic before realizing she could keep herself above water easily by treading in the lazy current. She searched for the others, spotting them just as they rounded the far side of the island and disappeared from view. Somehow, Ythnel had drifted down the west branch of the river after being tossed from the werecrocodile, while the rest of the group continued down the east branch. She waited for one the werecrocodiles to reappear and reclaim her, but no one came.

A commotion to her left drew her attention back to the near bank of the island, only a few yards away. Several of the ratmen had gathered and were pointing at her, chattering excitedly. It seemed someone had noticed her separation from the group.

One of the creatures appeared with a jumble of ropes in hand. It twirled them over its head, finally releasing it after building up enough momentum. As the ropes flew out across the river toward Ythnel, they expanded into a weighted net. Dread filled her as the net descended over her, the weights dragging her down under the water. With a sharp tug, the net closed around her, and Ythnel felt herself being pulled toward the bank.

This was not happening, she screamed to herself. Frustration and rage rose as she once again found herself at someone else's mercy. But her struggling only served to entwine the net tighter around her. Just as she thought her lungs would explode, she broke the surface and was soon lying in a tangled, muddy pile at the feet of the ratmen. While several arrowheads were pointed threateningly at her, one of the ratmen unwrapped Ythnel from the net.

"Why were you with the werecrocodiles? Who are you?"

"My name is Ythnel. I was a prisoner, along with my friends."

"Why did they capture you?"

"Probably for food." A ratman holding a bow chuckled.

"I'm feeling a little hungry, myself," another called out.

"No! No, they were taking us to their city because we are wizards," Ythnel protested. Several of the ratmen hissed, but Ythnel wasn't sure if it was in response to the werecrocodiles' claim to the city or that she and her friends were wizards.

"You will come with us," the ratman who had netted her commanded. He motioned for her to stand and led the group into the ruins.

They moved steadily inland, weaving through abandoned towers and half-built dwellings. From the many piles of unused materials that still lay at the base of some of the structures, Ythnel was beginning to think the city had more likely been left uncompleted rather than succumbing to time and the elements.

"Where are we going?" Ythnel sidestepped a twfoot-long rat that scurried from the shadows of a doorway to glare at her with undisguised malevolence.

"We are taking you to our village."

"So you share this island with the werecrocodiles? Did they build all this? Or were you here first?"

"Yes, the werecrocodiles built this, but we were here first. The werecrocodiles came from the east and tried to re-create their home, using the power of their god to enslave us. Something happened not long ago, and their god disappeared. We rose up and fought them, eventually freeing ourselves.

"They no longer try to build; the territory each side controls keeps shifting. For now, they occupy the north half of the island, while we live on the south."

Ythnel nodded at the ratman's reply. Its mention of the disappearance of the werecrocodiles' god stirred an early memory from her childhood at the manor. The temple had been filled with panicked sisters and hushed whispers that Loviatar had abandoned her followers, been cast out of the planes, or had even been killed. In time, things had returned to normal, but Ythnel now wondered if perhaps these two events were somehow related.

Unfortunately, her curiosity would have to go unsatisfied. There were more immediate concerns to deal with.

They reached the ratmen's village just before nightfall. In the fading light, Ythnel began to notice lean-tos erected against unfinished walls. Midden heaps inhabited several of the roofless buildings they passed, assailing Ythnel's nose with their ever-present stench. A crowd of onlookers began to form behind the group, following them as they neared what Ythnel guessed to be the center of the camp. The growing entourage consisted of males and females, most in the rat form of her escorts, but there were one or two who appeared human. So, they are werecrea-tures as well, Ythnel concluded.

The wererats stopped before a building whose walls completely enclosed its interior. What appeared to be a curtain of hide hung in the doorway, and a thatch roof sat atop the walls. The lead wererat entered the dwelling while everyone else waited outside. The area in front of the building was well trod and muddy. A pot of something unwholesome-smelling stewed atop a small cook fire nearby. Ythnel's stomach gurgled at the thought of food, unconcerned with how unappealing whatever was being served might be.

The hide curtain was pushed back and out strode a striking older man with Ythnel's wererat captor in tow. While the man's shirt, breeches, and boots were patched and sullied, he carried himself with an air of confidence and a twinkle of cunning in his deep blue eyes that seemed out of place in the middle of a swamp. A thin mustache, touched with the same gray that streaked his fading hair, did little to separate the man's sharp nose from his broad grin. He stopped before Ythnel, covering her thoroughly with his eyes while the other wererat whispered in his ear. Nodding, the man raised his hand, and the wererat stepped back with a slight bow.

"So I understand you were part of a group of wizards recently captured by the werecrocodiles. You're very fortunate that some of my men were able to rescue you." The man spoke with disarming friendliness and concern.

"It was my impression your men would have been just as happy to eat me," Ythnel scoffed.

"Ah, I'm sure it was just a poor attempt at humor." He smiled. "Unfortunately, hunger is a common epidemic amongst my people, thanks to the werecrocodiles. Making light of it is often our only relief."

Ythnel took a second look at the crowd gathered around her and noticed how gaunt many of the figures were. Skin was stretched taut, and many faces had hollow cheeks and dark circles around the eyes. The way they all looked at her made her suddenly very uncomfortable.

"What do the werecrocodiles have to do with your going hungry?" Ythnel asked.

"They constantly patrol the waters around this island, attacking us when we try to cross. It makes it difficult to hunt or forage; there's nothing left on the island to support either us or the werecrocodiles."

"So how have you survived?"

"Raids mostly. The werecrocodiles are overconfident and sloppy. It's easy enough to slip past their pickets with an appropriate diversion. Occasionally, we make it across the river and can… trade with passing caravans." The man's hesitation gave Ythnel the idea that the trades were probably one-sided.

"Enough business," the man declared suddenly. "I would imagine you are tired from your ordeal. Please, accept what hospitality we can offer." He waved his hand in a grandiose gesture that encompassed the surrounding ruins and midden heaps.

"That is quite generous," Ythnel said, trying hard to keep the skepticism from her voice. "I don't even know your name."

"Ah, where are my manners. I am Torgyn." He bowed. As he straightened, he looked at her expectantly.

"I, uh, am Ythnel."

"Well met, Ythnel. Join me for a bite to eat?" He motioned her toward a table made of stacked mud bricks and crossbeams. When they sat, a pair of plates were brought to them. The "meal" presented to her made Ythnel's stomach turn. Rotten vegetable matter and bones, which were covered as much with maggots as meat, were piled on the plates. The stench was more than enough to cause her to gag. She daintily picked through the refuse, earning snickers from the assembled wererats. Torgyn was watching her intently.

Ythnel wondered if this was some sort of test. Would they kill her if she refused to eat it? Even as hungry as she was, she knew she couldn't force herself to eat the putrid dish in front of her.

That's when it occurred to her that she wouldn't have to. Overcome by hunger as she prayed last night, Ythnel had requested a seldom-used orison she had learned early in her days at the manor and eventually forgotten. She began to chant while holding her hands just above the plate and channeled a small burst of Power. With a smile, she picked up a chunk of meat, brushed the maggots off of it, and took a bite. The overwhelming odor of decay was gone. The texture was a bit gamey, and she tried not to think of what it might have been before the wererats killed it. She just enjoyed the feeling of something in her belly.

"A useful spell," Torgyn remarked, "but not very effective in a fight." He grabbed a handful of the rotten food on his plate and shoveled it into his mouth.

"An empty stomach is as much a distraction in a fight as having a strap on your armor unbuckled. It is a weakness that your enemy can exploit," Ythnel replied.

"Very true," Torgyn said, his mouth still half-full. "Purifying food is not really a concern of ours." "And what is your concern?"

"The werecrocodiles. Therefore, I'm very interested in what they would want with some wizards. I'd also like to know what you and your wizard friends were doing in Adder Swamp to begin with." Torgyn smiled, but there was a wicked cunning behind it that put Ythnel on guard. She chewed slowly to give herself time to think. There really wasn't anything to gain by lying to the wererats. She doubted they would return her to the Karanoks, and it was possible that there was a way to play the conflict between the two groups of werecreatures to her advantage.

However, she would have to be careful to avoid mentioning the revelation that Brother Crocodile was really a werecrocodile. Even the slightest indication that there was some sort of connection between her and the werecrocodiles could result in the wererats turning on her.

"My friends are members of an underground society attempting to overthrow House Karanok." Ythnel took Torgyn's raised eyebrow to mean he at least knew of Luthcheq's ruling family. "After rescuing me from the Karanoks, we fled to the swamp. That is why we are here.

"I have no idea what the werecrocodiles want with us. They captured us last evening, as we were sleeping."

"I think I know: magic. They used magic once to enslave us. It would give them the advantage should they be able to wield such power again." He seemed to mutter this last to himself, but he kept his eyes on Ythnel. "They knew you had magic. The question, though, is how did they know?"

Ythnel's mind raced for an answer that would not involve Brother Crocodile. "On several occasions when we first entered the swamp, we had to use magic to fight off creatures that attacked us. Perhaps they witnessed one of those encounters." Ythnel held her breath as she waited for Torgyn's reaction.

"Perhaps," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "So it would appear that Lord Mulkammu finally has his wizards. This time, though, it seems we would have a wizard of our own with which to fight back." The man's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "It appears that your rescue was just as fortunate for us as it was for you."

They had rounded the island, following the west fork of the Adder River until it finally spilled out into the Bay of Chessenta, before anyone noticed that Ythnel was lost. A wounded werecrocodile had finally caught up to Kohtakah, whom Kestus rode, a broken arrow shaft protruding from its left shoulder. The group immediately headed for the island shore, and once beached, the werecrocodiles transformed into their human shapes. The wounded werecrocodile reported he had been hit by the wererat volley and had thrown the woman while trying to dislodge the missile. By the time he had resurfaced, she was gone.

"The woman is of no real concern," Kohtakah shrugged off the news of Ythnel's disappearance. "We still have the two wizards." He tentatively examined the other's festering wound, Kestus noted, taking extra care not to touch the arrowhead. "We need to get you back to the city to have this removed."

The group marched along the northern edge of the island, heading east. That side of the island was covered with the same mud-brick structures Ythnel had pointed out earlier, but they were more often in some semblance of completion. Squat, square buildings were huddled together in what could have passed for city blocks had they been connected by cobblestone streets rather than channels of muddy water.

Small points of flickering light began to appear in the distance as night fell, indications that the group was finally nearing the werecrocodile community. The mages were led past lit dwellings toward a towering pyramid that appeared to be the center of the village. The entrance was guarded by only a pair of sputtering torches set in sconces on either side. Kohtakah knocked then waited a moment before pushing the door open and ushering the group inside. ing coals that cast a soft red light against the inner walls of the pyramid. At the far end of the chamber, a great chair of dark wood rested at the base of a dais upon which sat a nondescript altar. Standing over the altar with its face toward the chamber entrance was the immense statue of an athletic man whose horned crocodile head disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling, some twenty feet above them.

A gong sounded from somewhere at the back of the chamber, and a near-giant of a man with a jutting chin and shaved head strode out from some hidden doorway behind the dais. He wore a sleeveless leather tunic that ended just above the knee, exposing corded muscles on his arms and thick calves. A fur-lined cape hung around his shoulders, billowing slightly in his wake as he made his way to the great chair. When he had seated himself, Kohtakah stepped forward and bent on one knee before him.

"Lord Mulkammu, your servant has returned from the human city with great news. I have brought wizards with me."

"Kohtakah, it is indeed a blessing to see you after so long." Mulkammu's grim face transformed into a warm smile for the Royal Sorcerer. "We had feared that perhaps you were lost, but to hear that your mission was instead a success… praise Sebek!"

"Yes, Lord Mulkammu, though I regret that I could not bring more help. It seems the rulers of the city seek to eradicate magic and its practitioners. These two are the last members of a group that had operated in secret but were recently discovered and forced to flee. Shamshur's" He indicated the werecrocodile behind him who had carried Muctos."patrol came across us as we sought to escape from further pursuit."

"Hmm, that is indeed unfortunate. But you are unhurt? And your pursuers?" He looked between Kohtakah and Shamshur.

"We lost them in the swamp, my lord," Kohtakah responded.

"Hanat was hurt, my lord," Shamshur said, stepping forward. "We were attacked by the vermin slaves. One of their cursed silver arrows struck him, forcing him to buck the female prisoner he was carrying. The wound is not grave, but he needs immediate tending."

Mulkammu raised an eyebrow at the mention of the woman and looked at Kohtakah. "Explain."

"My apologies, Lord Mulkammu. The woman is nothing, bait that was used to trap the wizards."

"Then why bring her along?"

"She is a cleric of a Faeriinian goddess"

"So she has magic?"

Kohtakah nodded.

"Sebek's smile! Magic cannot be allowed to stay in the hands of the slaves." Anger flashed across Mulkammu's face, but his expression quickly returned to its former stony calm. "First things first, though." He signaled with his hand, and the gong sounded again. This time two men in simple, flowing white robes emerged from the same hidden doorway in the rear of the chamber. They moved silently to Hanat and made a cursory examination of his shoulder, pulling at the edges of the wound for a better look. Hanat gritted his teeth as skin and dried blood separated.

One of the men departed but returned swiftly pushing a handcart with a black leather satchel and a lantern sitting on top. He retrieved a set of tongs from the satchel and handed it to the other white-robed man.

Then he lit the lantern and held it up high enough so it cast its light over the wound. The man with the tongs delved into the wound with the instrument, took hold of something, and yanked. Hanat moaned and swayed on his feet, but Shamshur quickly slid up behind him to provide support. While the man with the lantern set the light source down and began bandaging Hanat's shoulder, the man with the tongs moved to the cart and started cleaning up. Kestus could see a bloody arrowhead lying next to the tongs atop the cart.

"You have done well, Kohtakah," Lord Mulkammu said, rising from his throne. "Let us see to our guests. Then we will make plans to retrieve the woman from the wererats. Shamshur, you and your men may go." Shamshur bowed and turned to follow the rest of his patrol back outside, leaving the two mages with Lord Mulkammu and Kohtakah.

Once the others had left, Mulkammu greeted the mages with a toothy grin that was unnervingly predatory. "Welcome, my friends."

"You have an odd way of treating friends," Kestus said, stepping forward. "Kohtakah said we would be honored as heroes."

"Did he?" Mulkammu faced Kestus. "I make no apologies for the way in which you were brought here. Dire circumstances call for dire actions."

"And what would those circumstances be?"

"Why, nothing less than the continued existence of my people."

"Is that why you sent BrotherKohtakah to infiltrate us?"

"Yes, though his instructions were not that specific. He was merely to seek out individuals who could be of use to us."

"Wizards, you mean." Kestus did not like the undertones of this conversation. Mulkammu was hiding something. "Why do you need wizards?"

"That requires a bit of explanation. In fact, it may be easier to show you than tell. Please, follow me." He turned and began walking toward the back of the chamber. Kestus looked at Muctos and shrugged. The man seemed unconcerned with whether they were following him or not. There was no one between them and the door out. Of course, Kestus was sure they wouldn't get far before they were caught again, and their treatment then might not be as hospitable. Taking quick strides, Kestus and Muctos hastened after Mulkammu. Kohtakah brought up the rear.

The lord of the werecrocodiles led them through a small anteroom off the main temple chamber and down a flight of stairs. The stone of the lower level was damp. The waters of the swamp had found a way inside the pyramid. Kestus wrinkled his nose at the musty scent of decay that permeated the air. The group stopped before a great stone door set in the wall and framed by a pair of smoky torches. Symbols that Kestus thought might represent words in the Mulhorandi language were carved across the surface of the closed portal.

"When we were driven from our homeland more than two hundred years ago," Mulkammu began, "my people settled here. Blessed by our god, Sebek, lord of the crocodiles, our forefathers began construction of this city. It was a slow process that involved expanding the borders of this swamp, as well as the raising of the buildings that would serve as our homes.

"The task was a tremendous one, and so our fathers, in their foresight and wisdom, enlisted the aid of some of the lesser beings that already inhabited the region. Together, they continued their work, believing that Sebek was smiling upon them.

"Then, when I was just a boy, Sebek disappeared.

"My father, who was high priest of Sebek, no longer felt the presence of the Smiling Death; his prayers went unanswered, and the items of Power we had brought with us from our homeland no longer functioned. Our workers, jealous all these years of our success, took advantage of our predicament and tried to destroy us. But we prevailed, though my father was killed by their assassins.

"It has been a brutal struggle, and we have suffered, as you could probably see from the state of our city. Sebek has returned, though the connection to him is much weaker than it was before, and many of our artifacts remain useless. I became high priest in my father's place and have tried to lead my people as best I can."

"You have our sympathies, Lord Mulkammu," Kestus said, trying to keep the impatience from his voice, "but I don't see why you need us."

"The answer to that lies behind this door. This is the vault in which our artifacts are kept. Because of the weakened connection to Sebek, I do not possess the ability to use them. To be honest, I'm not even sure what some of them are capable of. Without them, however, my people will never rise to the greatness they once held. So you will learn what they are and how to use them." Mulkammu turned and faced the vault door. Muttering in some language Kestus did not recognize, the werecrocodile lord began tracing the symbols that had been etched in the stone. Each symbol he touched glowed a soft, dark green. When he had finished, the vault door slowly swung open with the harsh sound of stone grinding against stone to reveal a room half hidden by shadows. Mulkammu removed one of the torches from its sconce on the wall and walked in.

To Kestus, the room seemed more of a storage closet than a vault. A short, square wooden rack to his left held a staff of dark, twisted wood and what looked like a scepter. What could be a couple of wands rested on a flimsy table in the middle of the vault. Mulkammu lit a candelabrum with the torch then stepped out to return the burning brand to its holding place. The flickering light danced off an opaque black orb that Kestus had not noticed before. Set by itself on a shelf along the back wall, it rested on what appeared to be braces made from withered tree branches.

"You have an interesting collection," Kestus remarked, "but I'm "not sure we can help you. If these are divine artifacts, they will not be attuned to the Weave, generally speaking, but will draw their energy from the patron deity of whoever crafted them. Our magic would have little effect on them. And without the proper tools or our spellbooks, I doubt we'll even be able to identify the items' properties. I'm surprised Kohtakah hasn't already explained this to you. Perhaps if you had approached us more openly, before our hand was forced by the Karanoks, we could have worked something out.

"As it is, we need to be on our way. There is much that needs to be done if we are to have any chance of freeing Luthcheq."

"You are not going anywhere!" Mulkammu's face darkened for a moment, his mouth tightening as his brow furrowed. A touch from Kohtakah seemed to relax him "I can understand your hesitancy. Let me provide a little incentive, then, to motivate you. If there is nothing you can do with the artifacts, then your special skills are useless to us. You become ordinary humans.

"We eat ordinary humans," he said with a devilish smile.

Kestus didn't back down. He had nothing to lose. "And if you did, you would be right back where you started. Didn't you hear what Kohtakah said? There are no more wizards in Luthcheq. No one will be coming near this place. You'll all rot here, caught up in your little war!"

Mulkammu was seething, and Kestus was sure the werecrocodile would hit him, or worse.

"My lord, please." Kohtakah stepped between them, his back to Kestus. He steered Mulkammu out of the vault, where the two spoke in hushed voices. After a few moments of heated discussion, Mulkammu approached, Kohtakah in tow.

"It seems my Royal Sorcerer has spent too much time amongst you," Mulkammu sneered with disgust "He feels some sort of loyalty toward you and has prevailed upon me to consider an.. alternate form of persuasion.

"If you succeed in discovering the secrets of our artifacts, I will let each of you choose one of them, though I can veto any choice. Would that be satisfactory?"

Kestus could tell it was struggle for Mulkammu to speak those words. "Those terms are agreeable." In fact, the situation was more than Kestus could hope for.

"I'll leave you to get started, then. Kohtakah will aid you. Someone will come down to check on your progress every few hours. Should you fail, however, know that I will kill you and eat you myself.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a raid to plan. Good night." With a flourish of his cape, Mulkammu spun around and strode back up the stairs, leaving the three alone.

"How do we get out of this?" Muctos finally asked after moments of stunned silence.

"We do what he says," Kestus replied. He moved around the table to stand in front of the black orb.

"What? You said it yourself. We don't have any means of researching, by magic or tome. Our spells are exhausted, and without spellbooks, we're not going to get very far."

"I may be able to help with that," Kohtakah said.

The two mages looked at their former brother. Kestus had almost forgotten about him.

"Why should we trust you?"

"You have no reason. But know this, if you fail, if we fail, Mulkammu will kill me as well."

Kestus let the revelation hang in the air. The hurt of Kohtakah's betrayal ran deep, and he was not ready to let go of it so quickly. He would be a fool, however, to refuse any aid.

"How can you help?" he asked finally.

"I have some old tomes, passed down by my predecessors. Their knowledge of the Art is written within those pages. There are many spells recorded in them, some of which may be of use to us. Unfortunately, because of the innate nature of my abilities, I have not been able to learn all of them. I imagine the same would not hold true for you."

"Where are these books?" Kestus could not keep the excitement from his voice.

"They are in my quarters. I will go fetch them." Kohtakah turned to leave but paused. He must have seen the look of doubt on Kestus's face because he said, "Trust me, Brother Hawk. I will return." Kestus nodded, and Kohtakah bounded up the stairs then disappeared.

Ythnel sat in the hovel she had been escorted to by the wererats after her meal with Torgyn, their leader. Night had fallen, the half-moon obscured by building clouds, but Ythnel could still see the silhouette of her "escort" through the gaps in the walls. For all the smiles and reassurances Torgyn offered, Ythnel knew she was more prisoner than guest in the wererats' camp.

She performed her evening prayers with a leather strap acquired from her guard, finding comfort in the familiar chants and the slaps on her skin. It was the only stability she had left, a last link to her former life now buried by the chaos of these past few days. The memories of the events that had swallowed her up since arriving in Luthcheq tried to break through her mediation and shatter the peace she had surrounded herself with, but her focus was too great, her connection with her goddess too strong, and they were forced back to the shadowy corners of her mind.

When her prayers were finished, Ythnel rocked back on her heels and brushed the mud off her knees. She stood and stretched, her cramped and aching muscles protesting the activity with painful reminders that they were still quite sore and bruised. Restless, Ythnel paced the small interior but had to stop as the constant turning threatened to dizzy her. She leaned against the one corner of the hovel's walls that wasn't missing any bricks and stared out into the darkening night.

The memories crowded their way to the front of her mind.

Ythnel let them come but on her terms, channeling them like the waters of a rushing river, controlling the speed and direction by which they traveled as she sifted through them. She held no anger toward Prisus or Iuna, and she felt no guilt over what had happened to them. Nor did she wallow in self-pity as she remembered the betrayal and abuse she had suffered. She had gone through those fires and come out tempered steel, a finely honed weapon. Those images, those experiences, now served to strengthen her resolve. It was time to wield her sharpened edges in retribution.

Perhaps that was why she had really been sent to Luthcheq. Ythnel recalled the dream she had just the other night in the swamp. If nothing else, she knew it was a portent of revenge against the Karanoks. There was more to it, though, but what that was, was unclear to Ythnel.

She continued to muse over the idea of paying back the Karanoks for all that had been done to her.

However, she kept coming back to the reasons she had come to Luthcheq. If she were meant to take down the ruling family, why have her placed as a governess to a middle-class merchant? Why not have her inserted into the palace or some other noble house? Why not have her make contact immediately with the Mage Society? The only reason that made any sense was because she was meant to meet Prisus Saelis.

Or she was meant to meet Iuna.

Ythnel nearly gasped as the thought occurred to her. Why hadn't she made the connection before? Even though it had been Yenael standing next to Naeros in her dream, handing her the scourge, it had been Iuna's voice that asked her to show her. It had been Iuna who she was originally sent to teach. Iuna was the young girl who had lost her mothera mother who had once been a Loviatan.

The impact of the revelation jolted Ythnel and threatened to overwhelm her. She was meant not just to help raise Iuna, but to bring the girl into the faith. She had been put in the perfect position to do so but had failed. The fact that Iuna was ultimately the source of all the troubles Ythnel now found herself in did little to console her. After all, she was an adult and a handmaiden. She should have had more control of the situation.

Ythnel nearly fell to her knees to beg for forgiveness, but she realized that was not what Loviatar wanted, nor was it what she expected. No, what was needed was for Ythnel to figure out some way to fix what had happened, to find Iuna again and fulfill the purpose for which she had been sent.

That meant her first order of business was to get away from the wererats. Ythnel peered outside again. The wind was picking up, and the stars and moon were almost completely hidden by a roiling blackness that Ythnel guessed were storm clouds. Movement in the shadows across from her hut revealed the location of her keeper. She wasn't sure if wererats could see in the dark better than normal humans, but that really didn't matter. She had another plan for escaping.

Kneeling down in the mud, Ythnel began to inscribe the symbol of her faith, drawing a scourge in the wet, earthen floor. The prayer she was going to incant required the use of a focus in order to call the Power she needed from Loviatar. Ythnel moved her hands over the symbol in time with the chant. The air above the symbol shimmered, and Ythnel could feel the Power flowing into her. She closed her eyes in concentration and directed the divine energy into the space between her hands, shaping it with her will until it conformed to the purpose for which she had summoned it. When Ythnel opened her eyes, a ghostly scourge hovered in the air before her.

She stood and moved to the doorway of the hut. She stuck her head out and called to the wererat that was assigned to guard her. However, the wind had picked up enough that Ythnel's words were carried away. She raised her voice and tried again. The wererat must have heard her this time because Ythnel saw a form detach itself from the shadows and approach. She tensed, prepared to send her spirit weapon hurtling at the wererat as soon as it was within range.

When the wererat was only twenty feet away, a sinister hiss issued from the darkness nearby, and both Ythnel and the wererat turned their heads together in an effort find the source of the sound. The action was unnecessary. A twenty-foot-long mass of scales, claws, and teeth hurtled out of the night, tackling the wererat and carrying the pair of combatants back into the night with its momentum. Ythnel heard the rustling of their struggle and cries of pain. Then she realized she could hear similar cries echoing through the night, punctuated by the howls of the rising wind.

Thick drops of rain splattering against her face freed Ythnel from her shock at the unexpectedness and speed of the attack. Her first instinct was to take advantage of the situation and run off into the night, but she quickly realized that would not be the best solution. Where would she go? She had no idea where she was or where to go. Left to her own devices, it was more than likely she would just wander in circles or stumble into yet another hazard. She needed a guide.

She needed Kestus.

It was the obvious answer. Not only could he help her get out of the swamp, but he would also surely return with her to Luthcheq. He had his own reasons for wanting revenge on the Karanoks. She just hoped he was still alive.

No, she knew he was still alive. Brother Crocodile had indicated that the werecrocodiles needed the wizards. It was just a matter of finding them and freeing them.

Torgyn had said the werecrocodiles inhabited the north side of the island. Unfortunately, Ythnel had no idea which way north was.

There was movement in the shadows at the edge of Ythnel's vision, and she realized she could no longer afford to stand in one place. She slinked out of the hut and was bathed in a pale blue light. Startled, she turned to see the spirit scourge hovering behind her. As much as the illumination helped her to see, it was also a beacon pinpointing her location for anyone interested. With a thought, she dismissed the weapon and was swallowed by the darkness.

While her eyes adjusted, Ythnel considered her options. It took less time to list her choices than her eyes needed to get accustomed to the darkness. She needed to leave the wererats and make her way to the werecrocodiles' side of the island. The only way to do that was to follow somebody, and as there were werecrocodiles close by, they would be the likely candidates. However, that meant finding one of the many pockets of fighting without getting caught. She hoped the werecrocodiles would eventually break off the attack to return home, and she could trail behind far enough that they wouldn't detect her but close enough that she wouldn't lose sight of them.

Ythnel nearly laughed at the ludicrous idea. It was an impossible task. She was no thief who could creep stealthily about the shadows, avoiding notice. There had to be another way. She decided to wait it out. This was likely one of the many raids Torgyn talked about. Ythnel wasn't surprised the werecrocodiles performed them as well. Perhaps with her missing, the wererats might think she was taken by the werecrocodiles. Torgyn would probably order a counterattack, desperate to get her back, and when the camp emptied out, she could leave. It would then be a simple matter to make her way to the shore of the island and work her way around until she came to the area controlled by the werecrocodiles.

She crept into another ruin only a few buildings away from her original holding place and crouched down. The sounds of fighting still rang out in the night, but with the rain and wind, it was impossible to tell how close they were or from which direction they came. Eventually, though, the frequency of the clashes Ythnel heard lessened. Then they ceased all together.

Voices and lights approached moments later. Ythnel pressed herself against the wall and tried to breathe as quietly as possible. Her heart was pounding in her chest, throat, and ears. One of the voices she was able to identify easily.

"Do we know for certain that they took her?" Torgyn demanded.

"We found Saumbeth a few yards away. He was killed by a werecrocodile. I think it's pretty obvious they were after her."

"I don't care what you think," Torgyn snarled. "For all we know, she could have slipped away while they fought."

"I guess that's possible," the other voice offered meekly, "but there's no way to know for sure. The rain has obliterated any tracks." There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence. Ythnel was afraid that they had started searching the surrounding buildings for her, but the quiet was broken finally by Torgyn swearing.

"I suppose there is no choice but to go after the werecrocodiles. We can't chance that they have taken her. Gather everyone together. We will get our wizard back, or we will kill her before the werecrocodiles can make use of her!"

Several cheers rose in response; then Ythnel heard several pairs of feet sloshing off in the mud, and the lights faded away. She waited several more minutes and was rewarded by another great shout that erupted somewhere off in the night, signaling the departure of the wererat forces. After a few more minutes, Ythnel eased herself from her hiding place. She stood in the crumbling doorway of the building and strained her senses, but it was impossible separate anything from the gusting winds and heavy downpour that filled the night.

In that instant of realization, Ythnel changed her mind. There was no chance she could hope to find her way in these conditions. It could take her several hours of wandering before she found the shoreline, and she still would have to guess which direction to follow. The wererat attack that she hoped to use as a diversion would likely be over long before she could reach the ruins inhabited by the werecrocodiles, let alone find the mages.

She decided she would follow the wererats instead.

Ythnel headed in the direction she thought she heard the last shouts from the wererats. She dashed from building to building, relying on the weather to hide her sufficiently from any eyes that might still be watching. When she could finally see the bobbing torches carried by the wererats, she slowed, careful to keep well back from any rearguard.

Between the hypnotic dance of the distant torchlight weaving through the unending ruins that covered the island, lack of sleep, and the cold rain that had soaked Ythnel to the bone, the trek became mind-numbing. She was moving without thinking, mentally asleep. So it was that Ythnel continued for several steps before she noticed that the points of light ahead of her were quickly winking out one by one. She froze as the last one vanished, plunging the area back into total darkness. Her first thought was that they had spotted her. Panic washed over her as she imagined the wererats circling around in the pitch black to surround her. She didn't dare move, afraid the slightest sound would give her location away.

Then the clash of arms sounded somewhere ahead, followed by cries of alarm, and Ythnel realized that she hadn't been discovered. The wererats had put out their lights because they were close to the werecrocodiles' settlement and hadn't wanted to give themselves away to any sentries that might be posted. Ythnel let go of the breath she had not noticed she was holding. She could follow the sounds of battle easily enough now to find her way. The hard part would be finding the mages and getting back out.

Iuna's brisk pace slowed considerably as she neared the door. She stood before the plain, brass-banded wood door and hesitated. Mistress Kaestra would be angry if she were late, but she desperately wanted to be anywhere besides here. Last night was still fresh in her mind, aided by the bruises and welts she still felt, which had been given to her by Mistress Kaestra for her disobedience. Iuna shivered before reaching up to knock on the door.

"Come in," the stern voice she'd already begun to fear called from the other side. Iuna opened the door, entered timidly, and gave a curtsy.

"Where are your manners, child? Close the door."

Iuna jumped and turned back to the door, closing it. Tonight was already starting off badly.

"Come over here." Mistress Kaestra sat at her desk, scribing something. She wore a sleeveless gown of simple white, with a small black circle over her left breast. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a bun, making her harsh, angular face even starker. Piles of parchment covered her desk, and several stacks of books lay on the surrounding floor. Iuna moved silently to stand before her.

"I'm finished with my meal. You may remove the dishes." Mistress Kaestra indicated a platter set on a nearby chair. Iuna could see a half-eaten serving of meat and vegetables covering the thick, ceramic plate that rested there. "When you're done with that," Mistress Kaestra continued, "you can start moving the piles of finished parchment back to the library, and bring me some more blank pages.

"And need I remind you," she added as Iuna started to walk away, "to be very careful? These writings are to become the tenets of our faith. I was chosen by Entropy to pen them. It is the reason she has blessed me with the powers I have: a testimony to the validity of the words I record." Iuna nodded solemnly, noting the strange gleam that flashed in Mistress Kaestra's eyes as she spoke.

Mistress Kaestra went back to her writing, seemingly dismissing Iuna from her thoughts as though she were no longer there. Iuna approached the chair with the platter and bent over to grasp it. Made of wrought silver with delicately inscribed lines that called to mind blooming flowers, it reminded Iuna of the tableware Libia used to carry from the kitchen to the dining room back home.

Distracted by memories, Iuna paid little heed to where she was stepping, and her foot caught on the base of one of the stacks of books as she turned. Iuna hopped forward, trying to regain her balance, but she was unable to compensate for the additional weight of the platter and fell forward. When she crashed to the ground, the dishes went flying off the silver tray with a clatter. The ceramic plate flipped end over end, spraying the remnants of food it held across a pile of freshly inked parchment.

"You clumsy imbecile!" Mistress Kaestra shrieked. She stood up behind her desk, bristling, her face a mask of unrestrained rage.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, Mistress. I'll clean it up right away. It'll be-"

"You will touch nothing. I cannot believe your incompetence. I thought having you as a personal slave would be of some benefit, but it is obvious Father was just being generous rather than sending you to the stake. You are useless. I am going to have to waste precious time training you, it seems. And your first lesson will be to learn the consequences of failure." She came around the desk so fast that Iuna barely had time to get up on her hands and knees. Mistress Kaestra picked her up by the collar of her brown, woolen robe and slapped her. Sparkles of light danced before Iuna's eyes, and she staggered backward when Mistress Kaestra released her.

Her rage was not quenched so easily.

"Ruined! Do you know how long it took me to write this?" She stared at the stained parchment then turned back to Iuna and punched her in the stomach. Air whooshed out of Iuna's lungs, and she doubled over.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," she cried. Tears welled in her eyes, and she started to sob. This wasn't how it was supposed to have turned out, Iuna thought as she gasped for breath. They were just supposed to take the governess and leave Papa and her alone. Instead Papa was dead now. Mistress Kaestra had almost gloated about it when she told Iuna last night.

Mistress Kaestra's fist slammed into the side of Iuna's head, and she fell to the floor. She lay there, curled up in a ball, whimpering. Mistress Kaestra stood over her, her chest heaving as she breathed heavily. Then her shadow moved away, but Iuna refused to open her eyes and look up. She wasn't sure she could even open the left one. She just wanted to sleep.

"When you're done feeling sorry for yourself," Mistress Kaestra's cold voice called out from somewhere distant, "you can get up and finish your chores." Iuna wondered what would happen if she didn't. It was hard to keep awake, and her thoughts were fuzzy. She wondered if she was dying. Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad. She had never paid much attention to any of the lessons on religion that her many governesses had tried to teach her, but she thought there was some sort of life after death. Maybe she would get to see Papa. That would be wonderful; it certainly would be better than life as a slave to Mistress Kaestra. Anything would be better than that. Why, Iuna thought as she slipped into unconsciousness, she'd even rather have that Ythnel woman as a governess again than live like this.

The wind picked up as the night wore on. It wrapped around the temple in howling gusts, winding its way from off the bay, deeper into the swamp. The steady patter of raindrops beating against the bricks created a soothing counter-rhythm to the rise and fall of the wind's cries. It made it hard to stay awake. Several times, Kestus watched his companions nod off, only to start awake when their heads drooped to their chests. He seemed to be rubbing his eyes as much as he was staring at the tome in front of him.

For hours they had been pouring over the spell-books Kohtakah brought. They were rich with arcane lore, and Kestus quickly began reading through the texts, more interested in spells that would free them than divinations that would unlock the secrets of the werecrocodiles' artifacts.

Kestus looked up from his studies to gaze at the werecrocodile. He noted the subtle shift in his own thinking. The man was no longer Brother Crocodile to him. The revelation in the swamp had turned him into a stranger, an unknown, no longer an ally. Doubt had crept in and displaced the trust that had once been there.

Had he ever really known him? It wasn't the first time Kestus pondered the question. At first it had been an angry response to his feelings of betrayal, but this time Kestus turned the query over in his mind, examining it from different angles. Secrecy had been an integral part of the functioning of the society back in Luthcheq. How much did he really know any of his fellow mages?

This is not the same, Kestus argued with himself. And yet, Kohtakah had never worked against the goals of the society. He hadn't been the one to betray them to the Karanoks. Kestus snarled soundlessly as an image of Therescales sitting silently at the table, listening to their plans to free Ythnel, flashed through his thoughts. Kestus swore once more to himself that that man would pay for his crimes.

"Sounds like quite the storm brewing outside." Muctos pushed back from the pages of the book lying in front of him and glanced nervously at the walls and ceiling of the vault.

"Been a while since we've had a real good one this winter," Kestus replied. He stretched, scratched his backside, and strolled over to the doorway, where he leaned against the jamb. He had barely crossed his arms over his chest when he jerked upright, twirled around, and strode back to the table.

"Someone's coming." The echoed sound of someone shuffling down the steps immediately followed his warning. Muctos and Kohtakah stopped what they were doing, and all three men peered ahead curiously.

A shadow appeared at the base of the stairs, growing in eerie coordination with the intensity of the wind outside. At the height of the howling crescendo, a man appeared. His receding hair was plastered to his scalp, and water dripped from his hooked nose. As the man entered the vault, Kestus could see tiny gashes laced his arms, and there were dark spots on his soaked tunic.

"The city is under attack," the man said in a rush between panting breaths. "Lord Mulkammu sent me down here to protect" An arrowhead burst through the man's chest before he could finish. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he toppled to the dirt floor. Kestus watched him fall then looked up to see Ythnel standing at the base of the stairs, a bow held up in her left hand, her right hand still poised at her shoulder where she released the bowstring.

"Come on! We don't have much time," she shouted to them.

"Grab what you can," Kestus ordered immediately. Muctos scooped up some wands while Kestus grabbed the book he was studying and the black orb that had first caught his attention upon entering the vault. As he turned to leave, his eyes locked with Kohtakah's. The werecreature was just standing there, his brow furrowed as though he were locked in some sort of great internal struggle.

"Are you coming?" Kestus asked. Kohtakah's eyes widened, surprised perhaps that Kestus had assumed that he wouldn't try to stop them, let alone made the offer. Kestus was a bit taken aback himself, but it had been a gut reaction, and even now he knew he wouldn't take it back even if he had the chance.

"We need to go. Now," Ythnel insisted. It appeared that was enough to decide Kohtakah. He nodded at

Kestus and grabbed the staff of dark, twisted wood from where it rested on the rack against the left wall. Kestus followed, taking a torch from its sconce beside the vault door. Then they were running up the stairs and into the main chamber. Ythnel paused at the entrance to the temple, opening the door only partway and peering out into the night. Kestus came up next to her and glanced out.

"What's going on? What happened to you?"

"The wererats are attacking. There was a were-crocodile raid on their settlement. They think I was taken. I slipped away when the guard assigned to me was killed. I followed the wererats here.

"We have to move quickly, though. I don't think the attack will last much longer. The wererats are unorganized, and the werecrocodiles are stronger. We have to make it to the bay before they realize you're gone. Are you sure you trust him?" Ythnel jerked her head slightly in the direction of Kohtakah. Kestus nodded.

"All right, then. Follow me." Ythnel darted out into the darkness and the rain, leaving Kestus with his mouth open and more questions swirling in his head. He ran after Ythnel, the torch he carried hissing as droplets of water struck it. He could hear Muctos and Kohtakah sloshing through the muck after him, but he didn't risk looking back on the chance he might lose sight of the Loviatan's dim shape weaving through the buildings ahead. Occasionally, screams and shouts rose above the fury of the storm on their left or just ahead of them, pinpointing the clashes between the werecreatures.

The group turned a corner and ran right into the middle of one such clash.

The wererats had transformed into their hybrid ratmen forms and were clawing at the armored and better-armed humanoid werecrocodiles. Ythnel, several feet ahead of the mages, careened into the retreating backs of the wererats. They parted, a few of them tripping over her, and she stumbled into the outstretched arms of a stunned werecrocodile. Before anyone could react, in one motion she slammed her right elbow into the nose of the werecrocodile holding her, drew back the string of the bow she carried, and released the arrow she had nocked. It flew point blank into the face of the wererat right across form her, and as the dead body fell, transforming back into a human, she dived over it to rejoin Kestus and the others.

"That was impressive," Kestus breathed, helping Ythnel up.

"We should run," she said, herding them back the way they came. Sure enough, Kestus could see over Ythnel's shoulder that both groups of werecreatures were shaking off their momentary surprise and starting after them.

Kestus tossed his torch to Kohtakah, sidestepped Ythnel, and set down the items he was carrying.

"What are you doing?" she called back, pausing.

He was tired of running. He had never been the biggest or strongest kid growing up, and neither of his parents were fighters, so no one had taught him how to defend himself. His father's advice had been to run whenever Kestus found himself in a situation he couldn't handle.

While sound advice, following it had never sat quite right with Kestus. He hated being called a coward whenever he ran. More important, though, something inside of him wanted to stand up to the bullies. He longed for a different, better way.

Magic became that way for him.

He readily admitted he practiced the Art for the power it gave him. Kestus had never been the scholarly type. It was not that he wasn't bright; he just didn't get excited by pouring over obscure writings, trying to uncover long-lost lore. He suffered the studying because it was necessary to gain the power.

Fortunately, he had just spent the past few hours engaged in such studying.

Kestus brought his hands up and cupped them around his mouth, forming a funnel that would amplify his voice. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he coughed out the single word he had read earlier from the book that now lay at his feet.

A circular ripple formed in the air inches from of his mouth. It expanded and pushed outward, followed by another circle, then another and another, until four concentric, circular ripples filled the entire street and were hurtling toward the werecreatures. When the first ripple hit, a loud boom was released, knocking several of the wererats to the mud. The following ripples produced similar results, until all the werecreatures lay on the ground. Blood trickled from the ears and noses of several of them.

Kestus scooped up the book and the orb and followed after his fleeing companions. They didn't get too far. A column of armored werecrocodiles was marching down the center of the avenue, heading straight for them. Kohtakah pointed to an empty street to their left, and they rushed for it. The column turned to follow. Muctos paused at the corner and fumbled a wand out of the bundle at his belt. He glanced at it for a moment before pointing it at the column and barking a harsh command. Lightning lanced out from its tip and raced through the column, turning the werecrocodiles into a mass of smoking, charred flesh.

"That was a dangerous risk," Kestus shouted at

Muctos when he finally caught up. "You had no idea what might have happened." Muctos smiled and pointed at the handle of the wand. Engraved in the metal was the Draconic word for lightning. Kestus laughed and patted his friend on the back.

Kohtakah was in the lead now, steering them through the maze of half-formed buildings. Shouts of alarm and brusque commands rose from all around. It was apparent that the tide was turning against the wererats. Their assault had been beaten back, and now the werecrocodiles were systematically hunting down any remaining enemies. Kestus worried that they would be caught in the slowly closing net as well.

They ducked down a narrow lane between two huts and came face-tface with a group of ratmen slinking away through the shadows. Both groups stood facing each other, the tension palpable. The lead wererat noticed Ythnel, and its eyes narrowed.

"You," it hissed.

"Torgyn?"

"So you escaped. And are these your wizard friends?" An evil grin split his narrow muzzle. "You will come with us." He motioned for his comrades to surround them.

"No," Ythnel said firmly. She gripped a mace she had picked up from a fallen werecrocodile in her right hand. "We're leavingby ourselves."

Torgyn snarled and lunged at her with the short sword he wielded. Ythnel took a step to the side and batted his blade down and away from her with the mace. Kohtakah spoke and a fan of flame shot from the splayed fingers of his hands to engulf two wererats that were trying to flank them on their right. The wererats dropped to the ground, thrashing in the mud until the flames were extinguished. Patches of missing fur exposed seared flesh; the two wererats scrambled backward and fled to cower in a corner nearby.

Ythnel and the wererat leader continued their duel while the mages kept the remaining wererats at bay. Torgyn slipped past Ythnel's guard, but the Loviatan brought her left forearm down, deflecting his sword from its intended target and receiving a nasty gash from her wrist to her elbow. She followed up with a blow to the shoulder of his sword arm. Kestus expected to hear the crunch of bone as the metal-studded head of the mace made contact, but there was only a soft thud. Torgyn grinned.

"Your simple weapon can't hurt me. You've caused me a lot of trouble. I've lost half my men coming after you. You're not worth that, not even four of you, but I can't let the werecrocodiles have you either. So I think instead of taking you prisoner, I'm just going to kill all of you." He advanced on Ythnel, his menacing look a promise of death. Emboldened by their leader's words, the other two wererats closed in as well.

Kestus heard someone speaking behind him and turned to see Muctos holding what looked like a wispy piece of thread between his finger and thumb. Kestus recognized the words his fellow mage was chanting and shouted at Kohtakah and Ythnel, who were standing in front of him.

"Duck!"

The pair dived to the muddy street as Muctos completed his incantation. The threadlike substance that he had been holding shot out in a stream toward the three wererats, expanding into thick webbing that entangled the werecreatures. The momentum of the spell forced them back, slamming them into the wall of a nearby building and pinning them there.

"I'll kill you, Ythnel!" Torgyn screamed as they ran past him. Kohtakah paused long enough to put the torch to the webbing and set it afire.

They continued to make their way through the werecrocodile city. Kohtakah led the way unerringly at a swift pace that soon had Kestus and Muctos panting for breath. As they crossed a large street, someone shouted out Kohtakah's name, and he stopped. The entire group turned to see Lord Mulkammu not a hundred feet away, with at least ten bowmen behind him.

"I am very disappointed, Royal Sorcerer. You put these humans before your own people. If you stop now, though, and return them to me, I will forgive you."

"I am sorry, my lord. I cannot do that. They have become as much my brothers as you."

"Then I label you a traitor, and you will die with your new 'brothers.' Archers, fire!" No sooner had the command been given than Kohtakah began to chant, his hands moving almost frantically in the air before him. The archers let loose their arrows. No one could move as the missiles flew toward them. Kohtakah was still casting, and Kestus couldn't help but wonder if this would be their end.

The wind suddenly picked up, rushing with a howl from all directions. Kestus's robe and hair whipped about him, forcing him to turn his head protectively. From the corner of his squinting eye, he watched for the arrow that would pierce his heart. It never happened. An invisible curtain of wind rushed up in front of the party, deflecting the arrows upward. None of them struck their intended target.

"Let's get out of here!" Kestus shouted. Ythnel and Muctos eagerly obeyed, but Kohtakah stood rooted in his spot, eyes locked with Mulkammu. Kestus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along.

Finally, they broke from the ruins into some brush not far from the edge of the island. Ythnel paused for a moment, and the mages all bent over, their lungs heaving as they tried to replenish their supply of oxygen.

"Quiet," Ythnel said in a hoarse whisper.

Their labored breathing slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of the bay waters lapping at the shore, and the splash of raindrops. A rustle snapped all their heads to the right. Kestus signaled Kohtakah to hold the torch up high, and he took a step in the direction of the sound.

From out of the brush lunged a massive crocodile, its jaws snapping relentlessly at Kestus. The mage back-pedaled, but he caught his heel on a root and tripped, stumbling backward to land on his rear. Both the orb and the book he was carrying went flying off into the night. He scooted away, his arms and legs flailing to keep out of range of the pursuing crocodile's crushing bite, but he was losing ground. Kohtakah threw the torch at the reptile's head, but the brand bounced harmlessly off its rough hide and landed in the mire, extinguished. Sure he was about to die, Kestus uttered a prayer to Mystra.

A buzzing sound rushed toward Kestus, and he threw his arm up defensively, bracing for whatever was about to happen. Through squinted eyes, he saw a swarm of black beetles fly between him and the charging crocodile. In an instant, the creature was entirely covered in dark, crawling carapaces. It began to thrash about, trying to dislodge the stinging and biting insects, its original prey all but forgotten. Kestus rolled to his feet and ran back to the others. Kohtakah was lowering the staff he had taken from the vault.

"Let's get out of here," Ythnel said, and they all jogged to the water's edge.

"There are some old fishing boats beached along here," Kohtakah offered. They moved along the bank, searching. It was hard to see in the darkness, but as they got closer, Kestus could make out the shape of a flat-bottomed skiff. There were no paddles, but Muctos found a couple of old planks lying nearby and tossed them in. Once everyone was aboard, Kestus pushed the boat out into the bay and hopped in.