Part 5: Aftermath
The first body Nolin saw was Raevynn’s. The druid had been flung backwards against a wall and was lying on her belly, her blond hair burned away. Nolin reached out a hand and turned her over to check her pulse. He immediately wished he hadn’t; Raevynn’s face was a charred ruin.
No time. She died while I was laughing. He’d think about it later. He looked over at the trapdoor, and his half-sister Kiri was talking to him fast and low.
“…stretches off. Tipic smells blood, and smoke.”
Nolin blinked. “Sorry, what?”
Kiri softened slightly as she saw his face. “Tipic. I sent my familiar down to scout. He’s looking for TomTom.” She put her arm around Nolin to give him a quick hug. “And it’s not your fault.”
Nolin gave a quick, short shake of his head. “TomTom’s not dead?”
“I don’t think so. But…” She gestured over at Velendo, who was kneeling by Rofan’s body.
“I’m in Her arms,” Rofan whispered.
“It’s okay, Rofan.” Velendo tried another healing spell. This one wasn’t taking, either.
His whisper was fading, but jubilant. “It was Her I worshipped. Not Him, no matter what they thought.” He smiled slightly, his burnt lips cracking. “It’s okay. I’ve found…” He stopped talking, and Velendo realized that he was truly gone.
-- o --
“Have fun casting those with one hand, did you?”
Pickett spun from the stout wooden door he had just opened. “Go,” he said to his gnomish assistant, and the other forest gnome slipped through the doorway and shut it with a snik. Now it was just Pickett and TomTom in the low corridor, but only one of them was visible.
The stump of Pickett’s left hand still oozed gore, but the gnome had clearly received magical healing from his friend. Pickett gritted his teeth in a humorless smile. “Still alive, jester? I can fix that. You owe me a hand. I know someone who will be happy to graft one of yours on to my wrist. You certainly won’t need it.” He giggled shrilly. “Where are your friends? Dead?”
“At least one of them. As is Rofan.”
Pickett froze. “You lie. You wouldn’t have killed him. He was your friend.”
“I didn’t. You did. He was caught in your fireballs.”
“By God’s third ball!” Pickett looked nonplussed. “You’re not lying? That’s… unfortunate. Someone’s going to be very upset with me.”
“Someone’s already very upset with you.” The tunnel took on the smell of burning iron.
“Rofan had a rare talent for focusing faith. We just had to make sure that he focused the right faith. With that ignoramus, it was easy. I’m sorry you’ll never get to see what he helped create. What he was feeding.” The gnome’s sharp eyes scanned the shadows as spell components shifted nervously in his remaining hand. “Where are you, halfling?”
“Behind you.” TomTom’s jambiya slashed into Pickett’s kidneys.
Pickett screamed in pain. Staggering back a few steps, he whipped around and raised his voice in a harsh and long-dead tongue. TomTom watched in revulsion as the flesh on his hand began to warp and change. He began to sprout hairy scales, and TomTom gritted his teeth as the magic reached into his brain. You want to be a fish-monkey, it coaxed. No. I. DON’T! TomTom insisted. And as quickly as it had begun, the effect was gone and his arm was once again his own.
A clanging came from down the tunnel, the sound of an angry man with good armor and a big sword. More noise followed.
“You hear that?” asked TomTom, panting. “That’s the sound of my friends coming. Care to surrender?”
Pickett shook his head, his tiny beard waggling. “With Rofan dead, this place is a lost cause. We’ve evacuated the most important things, and you’ll never catch my clan now. The Master will reward me. Time for me to go.” He gave a little half bow, and raised his hand to snap his fingers. “You’ll see me again.”
“Actually, I kind of think I’ll see you now.” TomTom had been waiting for this. He threw his jambiya underhand, and the blade went right through the palm of Pickett’s remaining hand. Magical energy from the spell skittered in every direction.
A figure appeared at the end of the tunnel. “And so will my friend Valdek. Oh, and Kiri. And Nolin. And Tao! I’m guessing they’ll all probably want to discuss Raevynn with you.”
The discussion was mercifully brief.
-- o --
“The nice thing about speaking with the dead,” said Velendo as he eased into a comfortable chair, “is that they usually forget to make snide little comments. Pickett informs me that he had been headed for a temple to Orthyss hidden in a forest to the south-east of here. It looks like the gnomes were using Rofan to attract accidental cultists for Orthyss. Then they were taking the faith energy and bottling it somehow, he didn’t say for what.”
“How’d we lose our memory?” asked Nolin.
“We attended their prayer session in the town square, just as the fog rolled in. The fog was really mind fog, a spell designed to weaken wills. Then Pickett used this.” He pushed an ornate ivory sphere across the table towards Nolin, who picked it up and examined it. He gave a low whistle.
“This is gorgeous. With the carved satyrs and pixies, it looks like faerie make. An incense censer?” Nolin peered at the carvings more closely. “Good lord. Did you see what that satyr is doing to the dryad? Even I’ve never done that to a dryad. I should be taking notes.”
Velendo ignored him out of long practice. “Pickett called it the Nymph Orb, and said it was one of a kind. According to him it amplifies all kinds of enchantment spells, assuming you spend the time needed to light it and spread around the smoke. That’s the other reason they used mind fog, to hide the incense from this. They’ve been using it here for more than a year. That’s also why no one remembered the clan of gnomes burrowing under the town, or believed that there was anything wrong with their prayers that glorified abominations.”
Nolin opened the bottom of the orb and looked at the fuel, a waxy white grease of some sort. He poked in his little finger and touched it to his lips. “What’s the fuel made of?”
“Rendered down nymph fat.”
Nolin spit prodigiously.
“Yeah. I’m not sure we’re going to be refilling this any time soon when it runs out.”
“You think?” He gulped down some wine. “Is it evil?”
“Not inherently. Just very, very nasty.”
“I’ll say.” Nolin slipped the Nymph Orb into his pouch. “And useful. Did TomTom find anything behind that door?”
“Pickett’s clan fled in a hurry, and they left a lot behind. They’re filthy little buggers, apparently. He and Kiri are still searching down there for treasure and clues.”
“What are we going to do with Raevynn and Rofan?” They died while I was laughing.
“I’m not sure.” Velendo sounded tired. “Tomorrow I’ll pray and see if Raevynn wants to return. She’s a different religion, though, and they may have their own ways of doing things. I’ll ask Tao. As for Rofan, I think he’s safely in heaven, on good intentions if nothing else. We probably should leave him there.”
A knock sounded at the door. TomTom leaned in, bright in his jester’s motley. He raised an eyebrow. “You know how Raevynn’s dead? Dead half-elven druid, died a hero, people standing watch around her body to pay their respects, all that sort of thing?”
“Yes.” Nolin’s voice was full of bitterness.
TomTom hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Then can either of you explain why she’s also right outside, breathing, in someone else’s body?”
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