Brimstone Angels (40 page)

The force holding Farideh’s body stiff snapped audibly as she wrenched her arm upward. Havilar’s eyes widened, and Farideh felt the being try to close the force back over her again. But Farideh was already shouting the trigger word that vanished in the roar of a wall of flame.

The fire only singed Havilar’s hair and the edges of her armor, but the force of the spell threw her backward. She crashed against the wall, her head snapping back like a discarded doll, and crumpled at its base.

Farideh started toward her sister’s body, but her legs buckled. The strange magic still clung to her. She wrenched herself up and half-stumbled, half-crawled across the mess of bodies and blood and rubble. Havilar lay slack and senseless on the floor, her breath ragged and her pulse thready. She didn’t stir when Farideh tapped her cheek.

Farideh cursed. She hurried up the stairs. Kalam lay sprawled across the shop floor, cut from throat to belly and leaking blood and gore onto the polished floors. Farideh’s knees buckled before she was messily sick beside him. Her head was still pounding and when she wiped her face, her hand was streaked with blood that dripped from her nose.

Panting, she reached for the healing potions and gathered up an armful before stumbling back downstairs. She fed one to Havilar and watched as her wounds closed and her bruises faded. But she didn’t wake. A ruby drop of syrup pooled in the corner of Havilar’s mouth and ran down her cheek like a stream of blood. Farideh cracked another. And a third, but Havilar didn’t wake. She cursed.

Her hands cold and shaking, she opened the last of them and drank it herself. It tasted like bile and chalk, but it made the pain in her head fade and the shock that kept threatening to overtake her body retreat into a simpler, more focused panic.

There was nothing to be done for the Ashmadai, and if she didn’t hurry, there would be nothing to be done for Havilar either. Farideh could almost hear Mehen bellowing not to move Havilar, especially not when her neck had slammed against the wall like that, to try and wake her before she slipped away.

But whatever was wrong with Havilar, whatever had come over her, no Ashmadai was going to forgive her because she might have been concussed. Farideh shoved the rod into her belt, and the sword as well, maneuvered her arms around her sister’s middle, and hauled her up the back stairs into the little garden. The rain was still coming down in a heavy patter. She laid Havilar on the muddy ground while she unlatched the little shed and led the donkey out.

Havilar needed a priest, and quickly. Farideh couldn’t trust the House of Knowledge, not when Lorcan was probably still looking for her, when the Ashmadai were suspicious of the place, when Rohini was still some sort of threat. She’d take Havilar to the little shrine to Selûne, then go back and find Brin. Or maybe whoever guarded the shrine would be there this time. Either way, it was the safest place she could think of. With quite a bit of struggle, she got both herself and Havilar onto the donkey, and got the donkey moving toward the Blacklake District.

The shrine still waited, silvery even under the clouds. Farideh dragged Havilar up the shallow stairs of the entry, easing her over the steps and trying to ignore the fact that the potion hadn’t been enough to heal her hip or completely remove her headache.

“Whoever you are,” Farideh said as she reached the doorway, “I hope this hurts.”

She yanked hard, dragging Havilar across the threshold of the temple. Whatever magic protected the entries resisted ever so slightly, but as Havilar’s body broke the plane of the doorway, the magic burst into a shower of sparks. Gods, Farideh thought as she laid her sister gently on the stone floor, what did
that
mean?

A noise from the rear of the sanctuary made her jerk her head up. She stood and crept down the aisle of the benches.

“Lycanthropes are the
least
of your worries. Shar’s children are here.”

“Netherese?”

Farideh followed the sounds of the voices to the room off to the left of the altar. “Aye, and more. Devil-worshipers, a spellplague pocket, and something I can’t pinpoint that’s throwing off an awful lot of necromantic energy. Orcs in every bloody ruin—and not the civilized kind. There’s a building near the castle that’s oozing Far Realm contaminate.” There was a man in there with dark hair speaking into some sort of amulet that scintillated with silver light. He paced as he spoke, but kept his face away from Farideh. The priest? she wondered. The voice sounded familiar. “And a bloody volcano on top of everything. Fisher, cut your losses and clear out. This city is going to fall.”

“We pull out, the Netherese gain another stronghold,” the voice from the amulet said.

“You
don’t
pull out and you’re going to lose the agents you have here,” the man retorted. “You aren’t equipped to bring down this many threats.”

“We’ll send more agents.”

“And you’ll lose more agents you can’t spare.” The man stopped and ran a hand through his hair, and Farideh nearly cried out in joy: the priest was Tam.

“I’m telling you,” he said, “this isn’t something you can handle. Short of convincing the gods to bless a handful of Chosen, or maybe just come on down themselves, there is nothing the Harpers can do for Neverwinter.”

“We have to try.”

“Something’s wrong with Havilar,” she said.

Tam let loose a string of curses—then he spotted Farideh. “Fisher, I have company.” He looked her over as he tucked the amulet away.
“You don’t look so well yourself,” Tam said, following her into the sanctuary. “What happened?”

What happened, she thought, is I have done everything wrong. If I hadn’t made the pact, I would still be safe in Arush Vayem. Lorcan would never have sent the orc after Brin. The Ashmadai would never have killed the orc and traced it to Lorcan. He never would have chased Farideh into the shrine and she never would have fled back to the Ashmadai, who Havilar wouldn’t have killed because they would still be safe in the Smoking Mountains. A flaw, she thought.

She merely shook her head, fighting tears. “Too many things.”

Tam kneeled beside her and coaxed an abbreviated version of the fight from Farideh, the details of how Havilar acted, how she’d knocked her cold and finally, why she’d brought her back to this shrine, where the spells on the door had crackled and sparked.

“Well,” he said after a long moment, “she’s clearly been tampered with by a fiend. Is she a warlock too?”

“No,” Farideh said tightly. “What do you mean tampered with?”

“She’s fighting off the remains of some sort of spell. Possession maybe. A domination, perhaps. We’d have to ask her when she wakes up.”

“But she
will
wake up?”

“Likely,” Tam said. “She’s not out because she’s concussed, if that’s what you fear. Let her rest in the temple. The blessings should unwork what’s left.” He regarded Farideh stonily. “I take it your … friend is involved.”

“No friend of mine did this.”

“Farideh,” he said gently. “Let’s not pretend to be fools. I know what you are. And I can guess you’re acquainted with the cambion who accosted me in Neverwinter Wood?”

She flushed to her temples. “Did he?” she said quietly.

“He backed off rather quickly. Do you think he might have done this?”

Could he? Certainly. If Lorcan had proved anything in the last few hours it was that he was capable of all sorts of horrible things. Would he?… She was less certain about that. It hadn’t been Lorcan in Havilar’s skin. Farideh knew the sound of his voice too well, the way he moved.

That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have sent someone else, she thought.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Tam watched her, sadly, and she squirmed under his gaze. “I would suggest,” he said, “you think long and hard about whom you are protecting.”

“I’m not protecting him!” she said. “I said I don’t know because I don’t. Do you think I would really
protect
someone I thought had nearly killed my sister?” She faltered. He had. This would make twice, and if he had done something to Havilar she would make certain he regretted it. But it was Lorcan or Sairché or
nothing
.

“I don’t want to protect him.” Tam gave her a skeptical look, and she scowled. “It’s complicated … more complicated than anyone seems to realize. He’s cruel and he’s persuasive and he has only his own interests at heart. But sometimes, I think he might be the only friend I have in the world except for Havilar.”

“You could be rid of him, you know?” Tam said. “I could help you undo your pact.”

She shook her head—to lose Lorcan would mean she would once again be vulnerable and outcast in the worst way. “I want …” she started, but trailed off, staring up at the silver eyes over the altar. She pressed the heels of her hands to her own eyes. “I just wish that I could have a chance to breathe. I wish I could set aside the pact—or at least just the pressing parts, like Lorcan shouting at me—for a moment.” She smiled wanly at the statue. “Some space. Like this, only fit for my pocket. But I don’t think your goddess would take kindly to that.”

When she looked back at Tam, she was surprised at the consternation and perhaps even grief that settled on his features.

She swallowed. “I didn’t mean any offense. Just that … I’m not suited and … well, it’s a beggar’s miracle, isn’t it? She has greater things to worry about than me.”

His expression didn’t change, but he turned to look back up at the altar. After a moment he spoke.

“And that’s what I’m here for.”

He left her sitting on the bench and went into the back room of the temple. When he returned he was holding a silver medallion on a thin, twisted chain.

“Here, take this.”

“What is it?”

“A beggar’s miracle,” he said, and the twinkle had returned to his eyes. “Once between moonrises, call on it, and you’ll get your respite. Cast it at him—or any fiend—and they cannot harm you. But, mind, it only lasts an hour. So don’t use it to stir him up.”

“I-I can’t,” she said. The amulet had to be worth
purses
of gold.

“You can,” he said, pressing it into her hand. “It came in handy when I was in Thay, but I don’t find it that useful anymore.” He smiled crookedly. “Well, aside from the odd moment in the Neverwinter Wood.”

She closed her hands around it, knowing she should demur, she should refuse. “How do I call on it?”

“Aim it at the devil and say
vennela,
” he said. “The amulet does the rest.” He hesitated a moment. “This temple is only going to last another half-bell or so,” he said. “And I don’t know how much you heard—”

“Most of it,” she admitted. She smiled uneasily. “I knew you weren’t only a priest.”

“You and everyone under the age of twenty, apparently,” Tam said dryly. “When you add those cultists after you, it’s pretty clear to me that as soon as your sister wakes, you need to get out of Neverwinter.”

She shook her head. “Not without Mehen. Or Brin.” She looked out at the ruined city beyond the entry. “The Ashmadai think the House of Knowledge has insulted them in some way. Something about orcs and a house by the water? They plan to attack the temple.”

Tam frowned. “What do orcs have to do with the House of Knowledge?”

Farideh shook her head. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “And there was something else, something Lorcan said. The hospitaler that runs things, Rohini, he called her the biggest viper of all. That hospital’s full of wounded guardsmen and acolytes who are just trying to help. You can’t really suggest we just leave them to be torn apart by all of this?”

“Farideh, you can’t save these people,” he said. “That’s why I came: to assess the stability of Neverwinter. We’ve been here two days and already I can tell you it’s as stable as a landslide.”

“Then we should warn them.”

Tam shook his head. “They knew, Farideh. They knew that coming here. The Wall. The Chasm. The orcs on the road. The mountain is still smoking. Even the Lord Protector’s men …” He shook his head. “And there’s so much more beneath the surface. Things as bad as your cultists and their orcs. There are rough times in Neverwinter’s future. They’re prepared, or they were never going to be prepared to begin with.”

“So you’re just going to leave?” she said, shaking her head. “Why is that better?”

“Because,” he said, “if what you’re saying is true, then this is going to happen soon. If you leave, you’ll be safe. What else are you going to do? Run around knocking on doors?”

“Stop the Ashmadai!” Farideh cried.

“And then what?”

“Stop Rohini.”

“And then? There will be more. There will be devils and dangerous people until their battles are resolved.” He stood. “There is being a hero and there is making a sacrifice of yourself because you imagine it will be better. You’re not the first person to mistake the difference.”

And he wasn’t the first person to tell her she couldn’t change the way Neverwinter would fall, she knew, thinking of Lorcan’s litany of horrors. She glanced over at Havilar, lying still on the stone floor. How many times are you going to lead her into danger? she thought. She rubbed her thumb over the amulet, the shape of an eye on one side, and a spiral on the other. She wound her thumb in to the center of the spiral and back out again. What could she do to protect Neverwinter anyway?

“You’re right,” she admitted. “We’ll go. As soon as we get Mehen and Brin.”

Tam shook his head. “We can come back for them later, but if there are cultists chasing you, I want you both out of the city.”

Farideh bit her tongue. “Fine,” she said after a moment, even though it was not fine. “Do me a simple favor at least? Tell the guards about the bodies in the shop. Send them to … at least put them to rest and watch for their comrades.”

Tam regarded her a moment. “That,” he said, “I will do. Stay here with Havilar. When she wakes, the two of you get to the South Gate and wait for me there.”

She nodded. The South Gate … which passed the House of Knowledge directly. She might not be able to save Neverwinter, but at least she’d warn the ones she cared about.