Loyalty of the Tiefling

by JHMLYNDALE

The events of Mask of the Betrayer, but with the twist of Neeshka having managed to follow her harbour-boy… who is hers rather than Elanee's. Prologue, 25 chapters, Epilogue.

25. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The militiaman was quite reluctant to surrender the light crossbow in exchange for the return for his spear, but a grunt from Halor and a slight growl from Okku overcame this. Neeshka checked it over and put it away as Gann took the chance to string his own shortbow and attach a quiver with a selection of arrows to his belt. These preparations done, and a last exchange of wishes of good tidings with Halor complete, they finally entered the City of Judgement. Araman seemed certain of their path and though Blake still had misgivings about trusting him he saw no alternative.

Of course that was assuming Araman was telling the truth about Kelemvor's attitude and Rammaq's intentions. If Rammaq was not going to attempt to attain godhood then there was less need to fight him and much less need for that to be urgent. He seemed an evil worth destroying but if he was to remain 'only' a Demi-Lich then he would also remain a lesser evil, or at least a lesser priority, than the spirit-eater curse. As to Kelemvor they only had Araman's statement that the Crusade had to be smashed before the Judge of the Damned would allow Blake to retrieve his soul. If that were untrue then letting the two sides fight it out without them would be less delay for Okku's oath.

Blake nodded slightly to himself as he decided it seemed better to assume Araman was truthful. They could certainly overpower him and leave him tied up somewhere safe but the consequences seemed unbalanced. Having their path blocked by Kelemvor himself if they wrongly assumed Araman was lying seemed like it had far less chance of victory than fighting against the Crusade, whether Araman was lying about them having to fight it or not. Best to fight now with Araman at their side than to be forced by the Lord of the Dead into fighting later, without him, and possibly against a Demi-Lich who had become even more powerful.

They continued through the grey streets under the grey sky and this began to wear on them. As a former City Watchman Blake hadn't thought he would ever miss the presence of pickpockets or idlers to be moved along or arrested but these streets were too quiet and empty. It could be because of the attack by the Crusade but that would not explain the other lacks. As Okku had said when he first entered Mulsantir it smelled even worse on that side of the walls, and Blake had been unable to disagree. Even Neverwinter where the streets were stone-paved and had well built sewers beneath them could be pungent.

The City of Judgement though had none of those smells of discarded food or sewage, no rats, no cawing of gulls like the docks of Neverwinter or Mulsantir, and as befitted a city of the dead seemed almost lifeless. It was a relief when they saw a figure standing in the street ahead of them and Araman's quick mutter confirmed they had reached Eternity's End and this was Kelthanos, leader of Kelemvor's Paladins. As they got closer Blake realised the man was an Earth Genasi though, aside from his turquoise eyes, this was mostly concealed beneath his armour and helmet.

Wing like fins, reminiscent of Sir Nevalle's, stuck out from his right pauldron and purple decor adorned his full plate. An ornate but deadly looking Greatsword was held casually in one hand, showing his strength and ease with the weapon. What could be seen of his expression past the large cheekguards of his open face helmet was not welcoming but neither was it hostile. He seemed to be taking their arrival with the same sort of calm confidence that Kana had tried to teach Blake to convey as a leader.

"I was informed you'd be coming our way, Blake," Kelthanos greeted with a nod. "Your aid will be appreciated."

Blake wondered who had informed him as they'd come directly here after he'd made the decision. Either the City of Judgement had some form of magical communications or… Blake realised with a chill… Kelemvor had heard what was said in the presence of his cleric Araman and passed that information on to his Paladin. "Thank you," Blake managed to say, "what are we facing?"

"Rammaq's minions are everywhere and they make up in numbers what they lack on tactics," Kelthanos replied. "We're slowly being overwhelmed. We've received reports that Rammaq himself is moving from vault to vault, killing everyone in his way."

"A desperate situation," nodded Blake thoughtfully, "though…if he is moving from vault to vault is that because he does not know where to find the artefacts he wants or because they are not all in one vault?"

"I don't know. My men and I could not fight Rammaq directly, we knew this, so we have been trying to contain the damage and part of that was removing the knowledge from this district of what vault contains what. That meant evacuating the clerks and not questioning them about the artefacts or what Rammaq might be seeking. If I knew what they knew then the knowledge would still be here."

"Very well," replied Blake, "I can understand the logic, even if it makes things more complex for me. Let's hope Shaundakul blesses my exploring of the district more than he does Rammaq's."

"I admit the evacuation might prove a mistake," Kelthanos nodded, "but it was done before word reached me that someone who could fight Rammaq with some hope of success was on the way."

"And if my hopes are not fulfilled," commented Blake, "then at least Rammaq won't be able to learn anything from me."

"There is that as well," Kelthanos admitted. "Good luck Blake. My Paladins will assist you as they can, but we must put the defence of the district first."

Blake nodded to Kelthanos and they started off past him and further along the street. "He deliberately knows little," Blake commented to Araman as they reached a discreet distance, "I know little, do you have a better idea of what vault or vaults we need?"

"These artefacts are not something whose location is common knowledge, even among those few who know of their existence."

Neeshka rolled her eyes at Blake as they both realised the ambiguity of this answer and exchanged glances. Saying something was not common knowledge was not the same as saying you did not know it. Blake sniffed disdainfully in Araman's general direction.

"I'll let you play your word games , but I do note you didn't simply say no."

Okku glared and grumbled at Araman as they continued and faint sounds of battle began to be heard through the still air. Or rather as Blake and Araman and Gann began to hear those. Okku and Neeshka with their keener ears, both in ability and shape, had been able to hear this at least a little when they were still as far from the fighting as where Kelthanos had met them.

"Looking pensive there, harbour-boy," Neeshka commented quietly to Blake.

"Logic and feelings are a little at odds here," admitted Blake. "I can understand and approve of them defending that which they are sworn to protect. But I can still feel that Rammaq as a God would be a big enough problem that, even if that problem might be someone else's, they could have been more helpful. Though of course sometimes I annoy you as I have the opposite problem."

"You have been too helpful at times," Neeshka smiled, "and you did give Kana a couple of nasty shocks with how many Greycloaks you sent to help that village or to help Captain Brelaina."

Blake decided to not argue. He couldn't disagree with his sweetheart that he was inclined to help where he could. Not when one of the first things they'd done in Mulsantir was him react to the screams from inside the Veil Theatre and her remind him he had no authority or responsibilities in that city. And he was very glad that Tymorra had blessed the Greycloaks at the village. It had been a shock to Kana because at the time they had only recruited and trained a few soldiers and almost any losses would be serious. However Blake's gamble had paid off and the experience of actual combat and their victory had given this Greycloak cadre confidence that they'd passed on to the new recruits as the forces of Crossroad Keep were expanded.

The grey tedium of the streets began to be made more colourful as they moved further into Eternity's End. Unfortunately this colour was from the long purple cloaks of fallen Paladins and the blood surrounding them. But also surrounding them were far greater numbers of destroyed and dismembered undead. Despite Rammaq's servants being both well armoured and a good third larger than the Paladins many more of them had fallen than Kelemvor's faithful. How many more was hard to tell sometimes as with how diligently Paladin Greatswords had cut them apart it was unclear how many undead the body parts used to belong to.

"Those seem impressively large," Gann commented, nodding to one relatively intact specimen.

"Rammaq has been preparing for this day for centuries," replied Araman, "he knew he could not match the skill of the Paladins so he tried to substitute strength."

"Then let us discover, little-one, if he has substituted enough to match a god-of-bears," growled Okku, turning his great head a little towards Blake. "You hear that?"

Blake nodded. The sound of weapons on armour mixed with shouts of encouragement that undead would never utter. This was coming from past a nearby corner so he broke into a slight trot to reach that and look down the street beyond. From what he could see the Paladins were slightly outnumbered and Blake felt a twitch from his chivalrous instincts as he realised from their voices and something about the way they moved, and despite the heavy armour and full face helmets, that two of the three were female. The five undead trying to kill them were shambling about like Zombies with green something dripping from the blades of their Battleaxes or spraying as they tried and failed to hit the smaller more agile targets.

"Cast or loose then we move on," Blake said tersely, squelching the urge to help 'ladies' that even the example of Kana, and Katriona, and Light-of-Heavens, and so many other strong deadly women had not quite removed from his soul.

"We should help," grumbled Okku, "help more."

Ignoring this Blake concentrated and the single ball of fire of Firebrand formed in front of him to his chanting before splitting and streaking away in the separate brands into the backs of the armoured undead. As these brands burst and burned at them Araman used Chain Lightning and what little rotted muscle remained beneath their armour twitched and convulsed as this electricity arced from one to the other. Gann could not see a particularly good target for an arrow and hesitated long enough that the Paladins had already sprung forward to take advantage of how their foes had been staggered.

An undead head bounced across the stones of the street as a second of the undead found its right arm no longer attached and a third's sluggish mind slowly realised a Greatsword had cut through the small shield on its arm and the forearm beneath. The other two undead started to shamble into a counterattack but Blake had already turned away to continue the way they had been heading. After a final stare down the other street and another grumble Okku followed, trotting a little to catch up with the others who had not paused over following.

"Little-one," growled Okku.

"To paraphrase Kelthanos," Blake replied, "we 'will assist Paladins as we can, but must put finding Rammaq first'. Too many delays already."

"They might have known something," commented Gann, "though I am not arguing as this rather than that is the way Araman has been leading us. Not of course that I am suggesting he might also know something."

Araman did not allow himself to respond to the innuendo and tried to appear impassive as they travelled on past more, thankfully, sealed doors. How much he knew he was not going to say and if saying nothing would let them assume he knew more than he did then all the better. Blake frowned a little though as they kept briskly walking. He'd thought Rammaq would be at the centre of the fighting and that Araman would be leading them to this and to him. However one of those assumptions seemed wrong since the number of Paladin corpses and destroyed undead was remaining fairly constant rather than increasing.

The road straight ahead was blocked by a building and as they got closer to the dog-leg right and then left again around that building there were more sounds of battle. Okku chuckled to himself. "Hmm, if these are in our path then maybe they can have our aid."

"That is the problem, my friend," Blake replied. "If the fight is uneven enough to need our aid then it is also one that would cause a bad delay. And one that would not delay us badly…"

"Yes, yes, I understand little-one," grumbled Okku. "It would not be worthy of our attention even for that short time."

That had not been quite what Blake meant. He was concerned with delay and the bear-god's tone suggested he was more concerned with if it would be a suitable challenge. As they came around the second corner of the building to face the direction they had been travelling again he let out a sigh of exasperation. That ahead of Blake and the others a Nightwalker was already dissolving into the more natural shadows between the cobbles showed the skill of these men. But although you needed a bit of room around you to swing a Greatsword you did not need as much as the three Paladins had between them.

Rather than working as a unit they seemed to be fighting three separate fights. This made sense in a way as the popular image of a Paladin was a valiant holy warrior standing alone against the darkness so they might not be used to fighting together. On the other hand Casavir had managed to work well with those that had followed him in the defence of Old Owl Well and with Blake and the others there and against the King of Shadows. If he'd used a Greatsword, rather than a Warhammer and Shield, he'd have certainly preferred to shift his grip and use it more like a spear rather than need the room to swing it and either have to face, or leave a comrade facing, five giant armoured zombies alone.

"Okku," Blake said, pointing at the quintet, "keep those busy. Gann," he continued pointing to their left where a Nightwalker and another giant armoured zombie were fighting a Paladin, "try to distract the Nightwalker with arrows. Araman, Neeshka, with me, once we cast."

Okku rumbled in satisfaction and charged as Blake began to chant. A moment later Araman also started an incantation and Gann began sending arrows streaking across and up at the head of the Nightwalker. Its height was intimidating but also gave Gann a better target as it loomed above the Paladin and even the Zombie thanks to the latter's stooped posture. Blake completed his spell and once more a Firebrand issued from his hands and past the charging Okku, but Blake cursed bitterly as he saw only two of the giant armoured zombies stagger from the effects. The three with burning Morningstars rather than Battleaxes ignored the fireballs.

Araman's spell of Greater Missile Storm was a little more successful as none of those five undead were immune to its effects and the magical missiles added enough injury and distraction to help the bear-god scatter them effectively. Trusting Okku to handle matters on that flank Blake charged. The Paladin ahead of them was in the least need of help as he was only fighting a single undead. However if that one could be crushed quickly then they could move on to help the others.

The zombie's battleaxe and the Paladin's Greatsword clashed as Blake tried to circle them. Neeshka with her greater speed had managed to get around behind the undead and with one quick stab sliced between the plates of its armour. This was not as fatal as it might have been to a living foe but in partially severing its spine she robbed yet more speed from it to add to that which death had already taken. Blake swept his sword low at the zombie's leg and though the armour was only dented managed to shatter the dead old bone.

"Army of the King of Shadows," Neeshka grinned to Blake as the giant armoured zombie staggered, "creepies in the Death God's Vault, now these… you ever get tired of the same thing harbour-boy?"

"At least you've learned to find what squishy spots they have," replied Blake as the zombie tried to fend off the Paladin's next attack.

"I have, haven't I," Neeshka agreed, looking proud of herself. "Shows that finesse can be as effective as a honking great sword."

Blake wasn't sure he completely agreed as the Paladin's Greatsword had cut straight through the zombie's forearm and continued on to decapitate it, despite the aim being poor enough that it had also needed to slice away a chunk of the shoulders rather than cut cleanly through just the neck. But he was not going to argue as with most foes Neeshka was right, and he was especially not going to argue as he loved her so much and didn't want to spoil her pleasure in her improved skills. Turning away from the undead as it clattered to the road Blake started on towards the Nightwalker and other battleaxe wielding zombie.

Though Gann had managed to put an impressive number of arrows into it the towering shadow did not seem as distracted as Blake had hoped. It swept one huge hand down at the Paladin there and managed to make solid enough contact to knock the man off balance. Despite the clumsiness of its movements the giant armoured zombie managed to swing its battleaxe in and also make contact. This did not look a particularly serious wound; the axe blade did find a gap between the plates of the Paladin's armour but did not seem to bite deep.

Then the Paladin screamed and collapsed and started to convulse. "Blast," Blake said eloquently, realising his mistake and increasing his pace.

Behind him a few blotches of green marred Okku's colourful form but being a creature of spirit-flesh he was even less troubled by the poison than if, as Blake had thought, it had been acid dripping from the axe-blades. He and the Paladin were restraining themselves and fighting more defensively than was the bear-god's normal nature against the four remaining giant armoured zombies. Though one of those with a Morningstar had not been harmed by the Firebrand it had been distracted and the Paladin had taken advantage of this and of how Okku had scattered them to reduce it to scattered body parts with a few quick swipes of his Greatsword. Now he and a god-of-bears were standing shoulder to shoulder.

Valuing speed over caution Blake swept his sword in at the giant armoured zombie's head. It managed to parry but the power of the blow drove it back a little as Neeshka added her more subtle flashing strikes to Blake's assault. Another arrow buried itself in the walking void of the Nightwalker and its 'eyes' fixed on Gann and then lowered to where the other Paladin was charging it. An attempt to crush this armoured man as it had almost done to his comrade was even less successful as the Paladin met the descending arm with his Greatsword and managed to shave away some shadow to evaporate like rain falling towards heated desert sands.

Araman halted and crouched by the fallen Paladin and began rapidly praying as the man's twitching began to slow and become more feeble. Here in his own Grey City Kelemvor was more than able to respond to that plea and the effects of a prayer of Neutralise Poison flowed out from Araman and into the Paladin. Even as Araman prayed though the Paladin coughed and choked and drove the fluids that had been trapped within his haemorrhaging lungs or inside his full-face helmet out to spray or seep through the latter's air-holes in one final convulsion. Then he lay still.

"I removed the poison," Araman said sadly as he stood, "but too late. The damage had already been done… go with Kelemvor, oh faithful servant of his."

Hearing this the other Paladin seemed to press his attack on the Nightwalker with even more vigour. Slivers of shadow began falling like black snow and the Nightwalker had to try to reform its body behind the passage of the Paladin's Greatsword as he struck more solid blows as well. As much as his efforts inconvenienced the creature of darkness they also made things more awkward for Gann. To be sure his arrows had been doing very little but now the Paladin was in the way they could do even less. So he turned and began moving to outflank the group of four zombies as they slowly drove Okku and the Paladin there back.

One of these was moving even less well than the others, and the missing armour plates and the hole torn in chainmail and the flesh beneath showed this was due to bear-god claws. In some ways the better tactic for the pair might have been to retreat and use their greater speed to regroup or at least try to make the zombies separate between the three and the one that was slowed. However Paladins were notorious for knowing no fear and Okku for being stubborn.

Neeshka drove the heel of her boot into the zombie's armoured arse and hopped back a few steps as the shock jarred up her leg. It was like jumping from a high window onto pavement and not managing to share the landing between her feet evenly or bend her knees and hips enough. But it affected the zombie worse as she'd chosen her moment well. Her kick pushed it further in the direction it was already moving and its crouched forward posture turned into a fall. Its back straightened a little as it slowly tried to react. A living foe of the quality of some of those they had faced on their journey might have had the speed of mind of body to recover its balance or at least only be knocked to a knee. The zombie lacked that speed and sprawled with a clatter across the paving stones almost at Blake's feet.

With deceptive ease Blake spun his large sword in his hand to reverse his grip on it and stab it straight down. Thankfully as well as making this move more difficult the size and weight of it meant he could drive it through the zombie's helmet and crush as well as pierce the undead head within. Magic discharged from his blade and he gave it a twist to worsen the damage to the head and dislocate it from the neck before tugging it back up and out. Looking one way he gave a shake of his head that only how attuned Neeshka was to him let her notice. This was a bad angle for casting spells at the group. Looking the other way Blake wished again that the Paladin would stab at the Nightwalker as the breath of his sword swings did not leave much room to try to help him.

A giggle from Neeshka drew Blake's eyes to her instead. She grinned at him and nodded at the Paladin. "Now you know how I feel, harbour-boy," she said, proving again that she could tell what he was thinking.

"I'm not that bad…" Blake began to protest before breaking off as he realised that compared with the swift controlled movements of his beloved he was. "If you can get past the swinging," Blake said instead, "then try to help him." Turning to Araman he continued. "Araman, either…" a gesture towards the Nightwalker, "or," the same gesture towards the other zombies.

With that Blake started to move to get a better angle on the group and outflank them from the other side to Gann. Neeshka looked after him for a brief moment as she overcame her reluctance to leave his side. She knew she'd be happier staying with her harbour-boy and it looked like the Paladin was having fun and would be perfectly satisfied to be left to continue with this without her aid. Meanwhile beneath the concealing visor of his helmet the Paladin frowned a little as he was not sure why the leader of the seemingly friendly interlopers thought he needed any help or why the tone of his voice had been mildly critical.

Araman quickly assessed the situation and then a thought occurred to him. Myrkul, unlike Kelemvor, had not been hostile to creating and manipulating undead so there had been no need for his servants to be especially concerned with how to destroy them. The centuries he had spent hunting the Red Woman and the decades of building his cover as a Red Wizard, and thus pretending to have no powers other than the arcane, had made his instincts as a cleric rusty. However despite both these factors he remembered an old trick that was so often the simplest but most effective way to fight undead.

He might have failed to reach the one Paladin in time and the other Paladin might appear to be unwounded but that did not mean healing was a waste of the power Kelemvor was now granting him. Araman prayed and a wave of positive energy rippled out from the Paladin, easing a few places where his armour had rubbed and more important staggering the Nightwalker as this reached it and reacted with its negative energies. The Paladin brought his Greatsword up and across and through where the giant shadow would have its face if it had one rather than being featureless.

Neeshka also seized the chance and darted in to slice her rapier across the back of first one and then the other of the Nightwalker's knees. The precision of her strike and the sharpness and magic of her sword made this just as damaging as the Paladin's attack if less dramatic. It did seem more effective as well as the Nightwalker began to fall backwards but part of that could be credited to the Paladin. If the Nightwalker was not already trying to reform the shadows of its head then it might have been able to blur the shadows of its legs back together fast enough to prevent itself falling. Neeshka had already glided aside and out of the way of this collapse and from this safe distance she watched the Paladin begin striking to dismember the fallen foe.

She did not spare this more than a glance though to satisfy herself that the Paladin did appear to have this under control and that she had done what her harbour-boy wanted and helped him. That obligation discharged she hurried off after Blake to save him from the trouble he always seemed to get into without her. As his beloved began catching up with him Blake paused and summoned some power from the Weave. He was becoming a little concerned by how much magic he had used since the pleasant interlude in the house in Shadow Mulsantir where they had replenished their strength. Though he was a long way from running out of spells, and a long way from being helpless even if he did, Blake decided to conserve his more powerful magic and cast a Lesser Missile Storm instead.

With this extra distraction and slight extra wounding Okku was able to strike the giant armoured zombie that had already been slowed. The impact of the bear-god's paw shredded more armour from it to clatter away across the road and despite the undead's size sent it flying away backwards. As it bounced and skittered across the stones Gann loosed his first arrow at the remaining three. It seemed so long ago and these were not on fire, but he remembered the mummies in the Death God's Vault and what Blake had tried there. The arrow thunked into the side of the zombie's knee, piercing the gap in the plates there and the joint beneath and throwing off its already ungraceful stride. As it wobbled slightly the Paladin brought his sword down in a powerful overhand diagonal blow and managed to drive his Greatsword's blade from the zombie's shoulder to mid-chest.

Okku glanced over his shoulder to one side and saw that Blake was continuing to move in. There seemed no need for the little-one to be endangered, as little threat as these rotted things seemed to pose, and also no need for a god-of-bears to share his kills. He hurled himself forward and smashed both the remaining undead into the road. Metal creaked and crumpled under his forepaws and then the protests of the breastplates were joined by that of a helmet as Okku turned and moved and bit down to one side. His teeth did not badly pierce or crush that helm but they gripped it well enough that as the bear-god wrenched his head back his jaws did not slip. There was a distinct pop and then another clatter as Okku spat the zombie's head out, the decayed flesh of its neck having not much hindered him in pulling that from its shoulders.

The Paladin moved in and started to hack at the other zombie before it could rise from the road. One blow did not sever its right arm completely but did cut and smash that shoulder into uselessness and a second more horizontal blow nearly decapitated the giant undead. Araman and the second Paladin were trotting over after finishing off the Nightwalker, but by the time they arrived it was all over. Blake had been rather unsurprised to find Neeshka was at his side again but, with how Okku had already wounded the one zombie that was still moving, her presence had been a pleasure rather than a necessity as he finished it with a few quick strikes.

Neeshka cast unhappy looks at the weapons of the fallen foes as they rejoined the others and she realised the Morningstars were no longer burning and the Battleaxes no longer dripping. The flames and oozing poison might have made taking them more complex, and that they were rather large weapons with how large the zombies had been might have made them more difficult to sell. Nevertheless she would still have liked the chance to figure out how to take them and who to sell them to.

"Thanks," the Paladin that had been fighting the five said, raising his visor for a breath of air and to let his face cool a little, "was lucky you were here to help."

"Have you seen Rammaq?" Blake asked, refraining from any lecture on teamwork. The Paladin and his comrade, who had also raised his visor, looked blank so Blake explained. "A huge floating skull, the leader and creator of these undead?"

"Not seen anything like that," said the other Paladin, "and would be memorable if we had."

Blake nodded to them. "We were heading this way in search of him."

"I'd like to offer you more help, both in gratitude and as that sounds important," replied the first Paladin, looking conflicted, "but we are under orders. We can stay with you for a while, but then we'll have turn off this road, at that large building ahead, to continue our sweep."

"Your company will be welcome," Blake said politely, "as far as it can be offered."

They started off down the road and had not passed many, still sealed, doors before the first Paladin spoke again. "So what's going on?" he asked. "All we were told was that undead had invaded the district and what route we should take in hunting and destroying them."

"Have you heard of Akachi's Crusade?" Blake asked in return.

"The Betrayer?" said the Paladin. Blake gave a slight nod in confirmation. "Aye," the Paladin continued, "well before my time, I've always served Kelemvor here, but the tale is very well known in this city."

Araman twitched and looked on the edge of speaking. He was glad this Paladin had either not heard his name or that the version of the tale the man knew had referred to him as Eveshi, which had been his name within Myrkul's church. But there was the temptation to ask for more details, to find out what the version of the tale told here was and compare it with his memories and that set down on parchment and paper by Myrkul's scribes in the immediate aftermath. However Araman decided to remain silent as his identity being known could cause complications and he was not sure he really wanted to know what people thought of him.

"Rammaq was one of Akachi's lieutenants," Blake replied simply. "Motivated by greed rather than any sense of justice, or injustice, and now he is trying to obtain the payment Akachi had promised him."

"Hrm," grunted the Paladin, "took him long enough to come back for it."

Rather than admit the timing of Rammaq's return was his fault Blake just continued on. The sounds of battle in the still dead air began to increase again as they approached a corner before the large building. Looking cautiously down the side street Blake saw the looming form of a Nightwalker, around it three of the giant armoured zombies, and fighting these another pair of Paladins. There was a hiss of metal sliding over metal and a clunk from just beside Blake.

"You continue your search," the Paladin said, his voice a little muffled now he had lowered his visor again, "we'll handle this."

"Wait," said Blake, as the other Paladin nodded and lowered his visor and before the two Paladins could run off.

Though their faces could no longer be seen the angle of their heads suggested puzzlement and then that puzzlement clearing as they realised Blake was starting to chant a spell. Blake had to resist his first instinct as he saw the Morningstars in all three of the zombies' hands and realised Firebrand would likely be ineffective again. Instead he decided to conserve his power again with another Lesser Missile Storm. These missiles were joined by some from Araman from the same spell and a couple of arrows from Gann into the Nightwalker's back, where if it had shoulder blades these would have struck between them.

Since Blake learned Lesser Missile Storm he'd been slowly becoming less impressed by it as he learned more powerful magic and as the adversaries he faced seemed to become tougher and less vulnerable to it. But here the combined effect of two of them and Gann's arrows were enough. The Paladins they were fighting struck and took advantage of the undead reacting to the unexpected attack. One zombie's small shield cracked as it was stuck by a Greatsword and from the way the hand dangled down out of line with the upper-forearm it seemed the bones beneath had also split.

"Thank you," said the Paladin beside Blake. Then he and his friend charged.

Okku grumbled as the little-one did not follow. As even as this fight now seemed to be with the unliving abominations being caught between two pairs of Paladins he still felt they could help and perhaps convince these men to follow. He knew the little-one could impose his will on men as well as on the curse and the more of these godly servants they could recruit the more of them could be fed into the battle ahead of the little-one or his mate. Or even the Hagspawn. Better to sacrifice these men rather than the little-one be killed now when they were so close or perhaps lose control of the curse in his rage and grief.

Meanwhile Blake was wishing he could swap to using his bow as easily as his sweetheart could hers. He did have the advantage that the one he'd acquired in the Dreamscape created its own arrows so he no longer needed to hook a quiver to his belt. However that hadn't altered that a tower shield and a longbow got in each other's way unlike a small shield and a shortbow. It was more the size of her shield than the size of her bow that let Neeshka use the latter without removing the former but with his concern over running out of magic growing Blake envied this a little.

But only a little. He knew how often he'd been grateful to have, as Neeshka put it, a door to shelter behind. Or a door to shelter her behind, or to slam the vertical blade-ridge or the reinforced edge of into an enemy, or to angle and deflect blows and missiles away with. It had just been unfortunate that the last several things they had fought were the sort of foe you wanted to dodge rather than try to meet with your shield. Against something more his size than Sey'ryu, or Hezrou, or U'leth and his incredibly sharp sword there was advantage as well as all the disadvantages of a shield this size.

Blake looked around as they continued down the street and sighed as he saw the number of Paladin corpses. Thankfully the doors within sight were still sealed so these men and women had not died in vain but it still saddened him to see such heavy casualties. "Hells…" he breathed, but then he looked thoughtful as logic rather than emotion reacted to the sight.

"Harbour-boy?" Neeshka prompted as Blake's stride slowed a fraction and he didn't speak.

"More dead Paladins and not as many destroyed undead as we'd expect or hope…"

"Hence… 'Hells'…" Gann commented.

"But if the Paladins are taking heavy losses, without inflicting them in return," continued Blake, "then perhaps we are approaching a more dangerous foe."

"And I know you harbour-boy," Neeshka grinned, "even when we had the option to retreat you preferred to face the danger rather than just put several dozen leagues between us and it."

"There is a lot of clattering ahead," rumbled Okku, tilting his head and ignoring Neeshka.

"Lead on then, my friend," Blake replied.

Okku broke into a trot and despite how lumbering this looked with his great bulk his two-legged companions found it hard to keep up. Soon even Blake and Araman with their merely human ears, and the further disadvantage that these were muffled under hood or helmet, could clearly hear the sound of the fighting. Coming around a slight bend in the road they saw the fighting to their left and ahead of them. These Kelemvorites were fighting smarter and were holding a line at the entrance to a small alleyway and using that to keep their flanks and rear more secure.

Judging from her position in the centre of their line and her confident voice and gestures of her Morningstar a woman in armour and helmet that were both similar to Blake's in appearance was in charge. Either side of her were Paladins holding their Greatswords in the over and under grip of hilt and the blunt section of blade to use them like stabbing spears and either side of them were Paladins who were alternating between that grip and both hands on their Greatsword hilts to fluidly switch between stabbing and swinging as required. This looked close to being a stalemate despite how heavily the Kelemvorites were outnumbered as neither the twelve zombies nor either of the pair of Nightwalkers seemed able to counter the range advantage of the Paladin's Greatswords.

Blake knew though that if these defenders of the city of the dead had enough weakness of the flesh to be vulnerable to fatigue as well as poison that things could soon shift against them. They were inflicting damage on the undead as they fended them off but not enough for them to gain victory before they became too tired. The woman in the centre of their line chanted and the undead staggered back. Blake realised she was a cleric but most of his thoughts were on reacting and starting his own chant. There was not enough time to make a conscious decision but his instincts saw the chance and told him there were enough zombies with Battleaxes rather than Morningstars that Firebrand was worth casting.

The larger ball of flame formed and split and the pieces arced away and into the undead as they tried to advance the distance they'd staggered back. An unpleasant smell of burnt rotted flesh scented the air as these staggered the zombies again. Okku roared and charged in the wake of the Firebrands while the Kelemvorites overcame their own surprise to strike and take advantage of the openings Blake had given them.

The Paladin to the left of the centre of their line stabbed forward into the chest of one zombie and managed to drive the tip of his Greatsword through the undead's breastplate. This was not fatal as it would have been with a living foe who would care that their heart had been ruptured but there was a crunch of old dead bones and the zombie's forward stagger became a faster rearward one. To that Paladin's right the cleric took the step forward to attack she needed due to the shorter reach of her Morningstar compared with the larger versions the zombies were carrying or with the Greatswords. She swung it into the side of the helmet of another zombie and that one fell, destroyed, since though the skull fracture did not bother it the fact she had hit it hard enough to also break its neck did.

Perhaps hearing Okku's roar or perhaps responding to being struck by a Firebrand the nearest Nightwalker made the mistake of trying to meet Okku directly. It took a couple of long strides and brought one arm back ready to bat the bear-god aside. Unfortunately for it Okku put on a little extra burst of speed and sprang and slammed into it while it was still twisted in preparation for its blow. He easily knocked it over backwards and then his spirit-claws began to shred it into a blizzard of shadow flakes as he landed on top of it.

Blake and Neeshka were also charging and behind them Gann was advancing more slowly. His unhurried pace let him fit an arrow to his bowstring as he walked and then pause and aim and draw and loose before stating to walk again and fitting the next arrow. As accustomed as he had become to using his spear over the course of his travels with Blake and the lovely Neeshka and old-father-bear he had not forgotten his skill with a shortbow and a few arrows had already clustered around the base of the second Nightwalker's neck.

Araman though was feeling more frustrated as people were in the way of his spells and his mace was a short enough weapon he was reluctant to use it against foes with greater reach while he was without armour and shield. It had been centuries since his training as a cleric of Myrkul and with how little he had worn or used those recently it was likely they'd have hampered his movements as much as they would his arcane spellcasting. Of course something like a chain shirt or leathers, like the Hagspawn's, would have barely hampered either and could have been worn beneath his robes. Unfortunately he'd felt so honoured when offered robes of Kelemvor that the thought of asking for armour as well had not occurred to him.

Sluggishly the zombies repositioned themselves. Seven of them continued to try to break the Kelemvorite line while four shuffled around and towards Blake and Neeshka to attack them and defend the backs of the others. Blake was not keen about meeting them head on, and Neeshka was even less so, but there seemed no room for any more subtlety than Okku would favour. He stabbed at the zombie just right of the centre of their line and then twisted back to bring his shield to parry away a blow from the Morningstar of the zombie just left of centre. Then while his shield was still vibrating a little from that impact Blake twisted back again to bring his sword in a short chopping motion up and at the left elbow of the zombie he'd stabbed at. Its small shield and the forearm it was strapped to fell to the road as the base of Blake's blade carved between the armour plates and through the chainmail over the joint and the decayed flesh and bone beneath.

Neeshka was covering Blake's right and stabbed at the zombie to the right of their line. She aimed low and sliced through its knee and even with the lack of pain undead felt this still made its leg almost collapse. Its shambling stride became even clumsier and gave Blake the chance to step back and bring his shield in front of him before it could attack. Neeshka glided back to just behind Blake to use him and his thicker armour and far larger shield as cover and hide her intentions from the zombies, though with their lack of intellect it was unlikely they'd be able to read even the most obvious body-language.

Blake lunged to his right and brought his sword up to point ahead of him. There was not much arm strength in the blow but the tip of the blade gouged across the rightmost zombie's neck as Blake moved. Simultaneously Neeshka lunged, with rather more grace, to the left behind her harbour-boy so they swapped positions and she could neatly slice her rapier across the back of the leftmost zombie's hand. Its Battleaxe fell from its grip as the tendons holding the fingers closed were severed and as the other zombie totted back with how Blake had nearly decapitated it.

Again Neeshka and Blake retreated a step or two and set themselves for another attack or counter-attack. The three zombies shuffled forward as the fourth collapsed but suddenly Okku pounced in at them from the left. Behind the bear-god the last few fragments of Nightwalker vanished into the air or the shadows between the paving stones. With a noise like pots falling off a shelf Okku knocked one giant armoured zombie into another along their line and bundled them to the road under his near-irresistible might. He started rending and tearing at them, spirit-claws slicing through the metal of their armour plates, and Blake hesitated over whether he had the speed to assist without risking hitting Okku instead.

Deciding he did not Blake instead took a few steps to the right and forward to bring his sword down in a vertical arc onto the collapsed zombie and ensure it was finished. Having more faith in her speed Neeshka started stabbing at whatever zombie limbs she could and with those quick strikes at elbows and wrists and knees and ankles justified her faith and prevented them from bracing themselves against Okku or managing to strike back. Blake glanced at that and then towards the main fighting that he saw the second Nightwalker was turning away from.

Trusting Okku and especially Neeshka to deal with the three zombies Blake trotted forward and took advantage of how the Nightwalker was turning. It was quite natural to turn in the direction you'd had an ally in and which the fighting behind you was slightly more towards. However by turning to its left it was also turning its back on Blake and let him slice his sword across the back of its left calf. The shadow-substance reformed quickly behind the blade despite the magic that had discharged from it into the wound but this still threw off its turn enough for Blake to sidle to his left and as it faced him to slice across its thigh. As this did not bleed this had disappointing results compared with that blow against most things.

The Kelemvorites meanwhile had managed to destroy two of the seven zombies they had been facing. Seeing Blake start to fight the Nightwalker the cleric gave a wordless shout and they surged forward. Two Paladins pushed two zombies back while the other three zombies were pushed the other way by the other two Paladins to open a gap for the Cleric to charge a few steps through. She slammed her Morningstar into the back of the Nightwalker's right knee and it lost its balance. As it went down onto its left knee Blake brought his sword up in an arc to meet and slash across its descending throat. The great shadow recoiled away from the wound and onto its right hand.

"Thank you for the aid," the Cleric said, bringing her Morningstar back and into the side of the Nightwalker's right elbow. Then she frowned in sudden suspicion as she noticed that although their helmets were nearly identical that Blake had blue rather than red accents on his armour and was armed very differently to her. He was not a fellow cleric of Kelemvor and might not even be a follower. "Who are you?"

Blake stabbed his sword into the side of the Nightwalker's head before answering. "I am Blake Marsh," he said simply, twisting and withdrawing the blade, "we are here to help and to hunt down Rammaq."

"We saw him heading down that street," the Cleric replied, pointing to indicate and her frown easing into a slight smile as the Nightwalker collapsed. "A huge floating skull crackling with magic, he set these undead upon us."

"Then his bodyguard is weakened?"

"Maybe, but there was a sense of purpose about him," said the Cleric, her frown returning. "It would have taken him scant moments to aid his undead and slaughter us but he did not delay…"

"Blast!" Blake exclaimed. "If you will excuse us?"

"Bring him into our Lord of the Dead's judgement, that he has so delayed reaching," replied the Cleric, vengefully, before moving to help the slightly outnumbered Paladins. Her Morningstar blurred again to send its heavy ball into the shoulder of one giant armoured zombie.

"Onwards!" Blake cried, dashing off down the street.

Okku rumbled in dissatisfaction as the Tiefling immediately followed her mate. Some of these undead were still squirming beneath his paws so he was reluctant to leave before they had been thoroughly dismembered. But the little-one's judgement had proved good in the past and Okku both understood the risk of delay and felt that these other little-ones could, probably, finish these off now they had been so badly wounded by a bear-god. With a final swipe of his huge paw at the most annoying of the zombies Okku galloped into motion.

As Blake charged down the road he began to pray. 'Tymorra, please grant us the good fortune to reach him in time,' he began, 'Or Red Knight, please bless our plans more than his, or Ilmater, please grant me the endurance to fight with my full strength despite my weariness, or….' Blake's thoughts spluttered to a stop and his stride almost faltered as he realised just how many Gods he could pray to here. It was times like this that he understood why the simplicity of monotheism appealed to some, one God to answer all prayers rather than many who might have influence in a situation. Of course people being what they were there were some monotheistic religions where they had re-complicated it again with mortal but holy figures who could be called on for specific needs or by specific groups.

Corpses, both fresh and a very few long dead but only recently de-animated, littered their way as they approached an open door. Blake glanced around to check all his allies were there and looked ready and then led the way inside. Gann muttered slightly about the more restrictive quarters that would make his shortbow less suitable but followed. Inside were shelves and cases full of books and floating malevolently to one side was the immense skull of Rammaq. He seemed alone and this was as great a puzzle to Blake as why anyone would want to spend centuries as nothing but a very large head.

"Ah, the Twice-Betrayer," Rammaq hissed. "I was correct about the tomes, they do indeed lead to divinity. I am not a god, yet, since as expected the ascension will take some time. So for now I'll just deal with you."

With those words five of the giant armoured zombies appeared around Rammaq. Frost formed and dripped as snow from their shortswords as their cold froze moisture from the air. Blake wasn't sure if the Demi-Lich attempting to become a Demi-God had summoned them or simply dispelled invisibility from around them but that did not seem to matter compared with how formidable these looked. With them to keep him from direct attack and the lack of concern he'd feel about catching them with the effects Rammaq would have a free hand, metaphorically, to cast his spells.

In contrast to Blake's concern Araman smiled and began reciting something that Blake did not recognise. The Weave responded powerfully to this incantation and magic burst out over Rammaq and his servants, their forms flowed and shrunk and changed, and where a giant skull had floated surrounded by five giant zombies there were now half a dozen chickens. Blake blinked a few times in surprise as when he'd heard mention of there being an 'epic' spell called Mass Fowl that had this result he'd thought that a joke.

"I think you look better like that Rammaq," Araman said in satisfaction.

"You…" began Gann, "you turned the Demi-Lich seeking Godhood into a chicken?"

Neeshka frowned at Blake. "Why can't you do that Harbour-boy?"

"Because I don't have that sense of humour," Blake replied, still rather surprised, "and rather than learn new magic I've been practicing so my armour doesn't affect the spells I do know already."

"Bor-ing," grinned Neeshka, sticking her tongue out at Blake.

Obedient to their last instructions from their master the five chickens that had been zombies had continued to advance and were now pecking at Blake's armoured boots. He looked down at them and as much as he knew what they were he felt a little hesitant to kick them rather than just shoo them. There was a squawk though as Gann put an arrow neatly through the chicken that had been Rammaq, years of wandering the countryside and hunting birds for the pot serving him well. This was enough to help Blake overcome his reluctance and stamp on a chicken with a rather nauseating crunch. Soon all six chickens were dismembered or pulped and they could consider the victory.

"That was unexpected," commented Gann.

"We were lucky it worked," Araman replied.

"And that you still have the childhood sense of humour that earned you the name you use," said Blake, sparing the old man a smile. When he saw how shocked Araman looked he continued. "I told you in the academy we had met twice before in dreamscape. In one you were a boy and spoke of your giggling in sermons and how this had caused your brother to nickname you Arry… Ahra…"

"Ahrraman," Gann said, supplying the correct pronunciation.

"Ahrraman," continued Blake, nodding to Gann, "as that meant laughter in the old Mulan tongue."

"I… yes," Araman managed to say. That had been between him and Akachi so perhaps there was more of his brother to save than he had thought.

"Hopefully this is the end of Rammaq," continued Blake, looking around. "I am not sure how turning him into a chicken compares with granting him rest with the power of the curse."

"This city is Kelemvor's," Araman said, glad to be back on less personal ground, "his spirit would not have escaped to return to a phylactery."

"Good," nodded Blake. "And I suppose it is also good that a chicken does not have pockets and I am not much tempted by Godhood or I might search him." Blake turned and looked at Araman. "Though if you were not here I might also be tempted to examine these shelves for interesting books."

"Even if I were not here," Araman replied repressively, "the eyes of Kelemvor would still be upon you."

"Which I would expect, and which would stop me from doing more than seeing what might have been tempting otherwise."

"Remind you of anywhere harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked. When Blake looked blank she continued. "Remember when we saved that cleric from the Tomb of the Betrayers? And Reverend Oleff's 'blessing' on us?"

"Ah yes," nodded Blake, picking up the chickens by their feet, "I suppose 'May Tyr watch over you' could be considered as either a hope that we'd find justice or a reminder that he would see it if… we… took anything while we were in there."

"I am surprised he needed to warn you," Gann commented, with a subtle wink to Neeshka, as Blake started towards the door, chickens dangling from his hand.

"By then I had joined the City Watch," Blake replied, "but there was a lot of corruption in the Watch and some very dishonest Watchmen."

Neeshka smiled ruefully to herself as she wished a little that she had not mentioned the warning. Her harbour-boy had been nice to make it sound as if anyone except her would have taken anything from the tomb. And to not say how enthusiastically she'd mentioned how much treasure was in there and how much the thieves of Neverwinter had tried to get inside. It did seem more likely, as Gann had realised, that Oleff had been concerned about her rather than if Blake was one of the trustworthy Watchmen.

Outside Blake dropped the chicken corpses and then asked Neeshka to hold his sword. He then reached into his pack for some kindling and built and ignited a very small funeral pyre. The smell of burning feathers and flesh scented the dead air and, once Araman had shut the door, sped their departure from near this vault. A short way back down the street they met the Cleric and her four Paladins again. The remains of the zombies were scattered about them.

"Success?" the Cleric asked, smiling to Blake.

"Thanks to Araman the fate of Rammaq is now in your God's judgement," replied Blake.

"Excellent, fine work brother," the Cleric said, giving Araman a respectful nod before smiling again to Blake, "and our thanks again to you all for the aid."

Araman looked rather pleased with himself. It was good to be accepted as a Kelemvorite and he liked the sense of belonging. Neeshka though looked less pleased as the smiles and having only just reminded Blake that she used to be a thief combined in a few moments of doubt. She knew how much she loved Blake and she had faith he loved her just as much but maybe he would be better off with a nice human female cleric? Maybe not one of Kelemvor but one of Tyr to help dispense justice or of Waukeen to aid with trade and profit…

"Be at ease," Gann murmured very quietly to Neeshka. "She might have shared your taste in Blake, and shared his taste in armour, but it is you he loves."

Neeshka glanced to Gann and then gave him a slight nod. That would be more reassuring if that had been what she doubted rather than whether that love was what was best for her harbour-boy. The image of Blake standing shoulder to shoulder with some woman in matching armour, both fighting with the same solid skill, was hard to dismiss whether that woman was a Cleric with special knowledge or insight to aid him and prayers to complement his arcane skills or not. If Blake could not have a noble wife he could at least have a reputable one.

Suddenly Neeshka felt guilty as for a moment she was glad Shandra was dead. She had not been a cleric and her grandfather being Ammon Jerro would have caused some problems in Neverwinter. But her respectable farming background and never knowing her grandfather would have helped to balance the latter and Neeshka was sure that had Shandra survived then both Blake and Ammon Jerro would have begun teaching her magic. So she and Blake would have had that in common as well as that they were both orphans from small villages.

Things seemed quieter as they made their way back to Kelthanos. He was still standing where they had left him near the entrance to Eternity's End and turned to face them as he heard their approach. "Well met, again, what news?"

"Thanks to a spell from Araman," Blake replied, "Rammaq has been destroyed."

"That explains the reports," nodded Kelthanos, "they never seemed that organised but now the undead are wandering even more randomly. Still a problem but one that we can more easily handle now."

"Good, stopping Rammaq from becoming a God was very important…"

"Was that what his aim was?" blinked Kelthanos, his practiced calm breaking for an instant.

"But we should get to the Basilica of Lost Hope," Blake continued, "it is likely already under attack."

"It is?" asked Kelthanos, taking a moment longer to restore his mask of calm this time. His eyes twitched in thought and then he sighed. "I can't spare anyone," he said reluctantly. "Eternity's End is large enough to need a lot of searching and these undead tough enough to need a few, preferably several, people in each search party. And we have to be sure we find all of them before we can let the scribes back."

"Good fortune with that," Blake replied. "Tymorra give you luck and the Red Knight inspire plans that work."

"And Kelemvor bless you in your defence of his city," said Kelthanos in return.

A few moments' brisk walking took them out of sight of Kelthanos. The grey diffuse light of the permanently overcast sky made the buildings they passed look even more similar to each other and not being able to see a sun gave them less sense of direction. Araman seemed to know where they were going and Blake was confident that if they lost that guide they would at least be able to find their way back to the Gate. What good that would do though he was less confident. As they travelled they began to get glimpses down side streets of a vast domed building looming above those around it. These glimpses became more frequent as they got closer and Blake began to get a sense of the scale of the Basilica of Lost Hope.

"Hmm," rumbled Okku, breaking the silence, "do you hear that little-one?"

"Hear what…" Blake started to ask, before pausing and looking at the bear-god. "Or is that what you mean? That it is too quiet?"

"If we are getting as close to the lair of this 'voice' as it seems," nodded Okku, "then yes."

Blake nodded back. The Basilica might be a little larger ,and they might be a little further from it than he thought, but they should still be able to hear shouts and screams and the clash of weapons and armour. Hells, it was not like there was any background hubbub of people going about their lives or of bird song or wind in trees or anything else to interfere with hearing that fighting. Pressing on they came around the corner out of the side street they had been following and into what looked like a major boulevard.

The Basilica of Lost Hope was impressive now they had an almost full view of it with the width of this road that led directly towards it. Layers of pillars and buttresses, both flying and solid, led up to a tower topped by a vast dome. As impressive as the stonework was to be finely fitted and highly polished enough to gleam in the grey light it did seem perhaps a little plain as there were quite broad flat areas between pillars and within arches. Then Blake remembered the Death God's Vault in Shadow Mulsantir and the skulls and skeletons Myrkul favoured, and wondered if those areas had been empty of 'decoration' before Myrkul was replaced as God of the Dead.

More important though was the barricade they could see between them and the Basilica. Advancing towards this they first had to take care in case there were people concealed behind the stacks of crates and furniture and overturned carts but then they began having to also take care with their footing. There were not many corpses as far down the boulevard as the side street they had entered by but as they got closer to the barricade they began to almost cover the street. At first Militiamen with crossbow bolts in their chests and then both these and corpses that appeared to have been stabbed with a spear. There were also dead half-celestials wearing armour heavier than the scalemail of the surrounding corpses but not many.

Blake nodded at one of these half-celestials. "Impressive they killed so many with so few losses of their own," he commented, then frowned and added, "though would exiled but full-blooded Celestials 'fade' back to their home plane of Celestia like other planar beings do?"

"Even if they didn't have that help, harbour-boy, it might not be so impressive," Neeshka said, crouching and pointing at one Militiaman corpse. "Look here."

"Ah, red markings," sighed Blake, glancing to Araman, "it seems your fear of a rebellion from within was accurate. That would explain why so many seem to have been killed by the same sort of weapons as they had themselves."

Blake looked again at the corpse Neeshka was crouching beside and even his enjoyment of watching her straighten didn't stop him from suddenly wondering where these traitors would have got that much red paint. On reflection there was one fluid that was in ample supply here, and that after a hard fight might make his own armour appear tinged that colour, but Blake decided he'd rather stop wondering and just assume that was paint coating the pauldrons.

At the base of the barricade the corpses were thick enough in some places to provide a ramp and an easier climb. It appeared the defenders had been well organised with spearmen in front of the barricade and more spearmen and crossbowmen standing behind it on a platform of crates. The crossbowmen could loose bolts at the advancing foe and the spearmen stab down to aid those below them. It would have been better for the first line of defenders if they'd had heavier armour or large shields to protect against arrows or, with the treachery, crossbow bolts but a dense formation of spearmen could deflect some of those with the thicket of their outthrust spear points.

As Blake clambered higher over various things that had been piled into the barricade and the corpses that had piled against it he looked at what he was walking on and past. "Still fairly impressive, same weapons and armour and probably the same training but the traitors managed to overcome the others."

"The losses seem quite even," Gann replied, not sure why Blake was impressed, "as many with as without the extra decoration of red on their armour."

"Exactly," said Blake. Seeing Gann still looked unsure Blake continued. "Think about the trouble we just had climbing up and over."

"Ah," Gann said in understanding, "so the loyal Militiamen would have had that advantage, and should have killed more than they lost?"

"Hrm, likely the traitors beside them turned on them," growled Okku, "stabbed them in their backs as they stood together against the foe."

"Almost certainly," Blake agreed calmly, more concerned with finding a bare patch of road to hop down onto than with caring about the treason here. Having successfully landed he offered Neeshka his hand to help her graceful descent, which she accepted despite being by far the most sure footed of them all. As Blake released Neeshka's hand and turned away there was a slight crunch behind him to show Okku had not avoided the corpses. "Ah," Blake breathed, ignoring the noise as his eyes fixed on some open windows "but let us remain alert for what might be above us as well."

"Crossbowmen?" asked Gann, brushing the fingers of his right hand across the fletching of the arrows in his quiver.

"That, and though half-Celestials cannot fly I do wonder if they can slow and steer a fall," Blake nodded, starting to walk again.

"Sneaky," smiled Neeshka in approval, following her harbour-boy and his chain of thought with ease, "get into one of those buildings and then jump down to attack the barricade from behind."

"A shame we can't do the same," Blake sighed, nodding towards where the twin doors at the front of the Basilica were open and slightly off their hinges. "It's almost certain it's all over by now but we can't take the chance. We'll have to go in one of those doors rather than delay and try to find another entrance."

"We shall use that main entrance," rumbled Okku, "as is worthy of us and face whatever is beyond, together."

There was not a great distance between the barricade and the short flight of stairs up to those doors but there was a great lack of corpses. A few were dotted around the area but compared with the scene behind Blake and the others it looked like this final advance had been almost unopposed. It could be that the Kelemvorites had not set up a second line of defence or it could be Militiamen in that line had rebelled when the barricade was overrun. Either way this did not bode well for the Voice and the scene within the Basilica.

Entering they had the advantage that the attention of the mob of traitor Militiamen was on Zoab and his attention was on the speech he was giving them. Blake took the chance to look around while they remained unnoticed. Along one wall some corpses in scalemail with red pauldrons had been laid out, and along the opposite wall the greater number of corpses of loyal Militiamen or in robes of Kelemvor had been dumped less neatly. At some point Zoab had donned a scalemail helmet and this glinted a little, as did his golden breastplate and the Greatsword in his hand, as he moved and gestured and indulged in flights of victorious rhetoric.

To Zoab's right stood a pair of Planetars in their own golden armour that covered more of their green skin than Zoab's did his grey. They were supporting a large figure in robes of Kelemvor between them. It was hard to see this man's face with his hood and how his head was slumped down onto his chest but even from by the doors Blake could see how bloodied he was. The cheering of the traitor Militiamen at Zoab's speech drowned out Okku's rumbling as he also noticed that sight and frustrated by that the bear-god let out more of a roar.

This finally drew Zoab's attention and he looked up from his audience and over their heads towards the doors. "You're too late Blake, the Voice of Kelemvor is dead and, as you can see, a number of the unfortunate souls enslaved by him have rallied to our cause."

The mob of traitor Militiamen started turning around to look where Zoab was looking and the two Planetars unceremoniously let go of the corpse they'd been supporting. It slumped to the floor and they drew their Greatswords as Blake frowned in annoyance at the confirmation that the Voice was dead rather than 'only' seriously wounded. It was unsurprising they'd not been in time with how long killing Sey'ryu, the Demons, and Rammaq had taken and with what they had seen outside, but he did wonder if he should care more rather than be merely annoyed.

"And a number of them did not," Blake replied. "Some remained loyal to their God or their Duty or their Oaths and for that they were slain by you or by those of their comrades who preferred treason. I hope you are proud of that bloodshed as that is all you accomplished here."

"You are wrong, Blake," Zoab said firmly. "We struck at Kelemvor himself and we won. This victory will not go unnoticed and it will rally others to our cause."

Blake cast an eye over how the Militiamen were shuffling about and getting their spears into position to fight rather than just lean on them or wave them around in response to Zoab's words. "You won nothing, this victory is a false one," retorted Blake, equally firmly. "If you had struck at Kelemvor himself you would have been crushed. As great as your skill undoubtedly is it was not that which granted you success. It is that rather than intervene more directly Kelemvor wanted to use 'Akachi's heir' fighting against the Crusade as a symbol against future ones. Which is why I have to be here before I can retrieve my soul."

"Then if you are here to fight and Kelemvor would use you as a symbol, like his Voice," Zoab declared, gesturing to the Militiamen, "then the time for discussion is long over and only one of us will be walking away from this place."

Obediently the Militiamen started advancing and with a sigh Blake began chanting and drawing power from the Weave. The doors into the Basilica were broad enough to not convey much advantage if they tried to retreat into the doorway, and Okku would probably disrupt that plan by refusing to retreat. Therefore they would have to face them here and it was best to try to reduce their numbers with all due speed. Spectral dust began to swirl amongst their feet and a few of the Militiamen faltered and glanced down at this before the huge ghostly female figure burst up out of it.

She bent in mid air, knees almost touching her bosom, and then uncoiled and shrieked, flinging her arms and legs back and her breasts out as if she was being tied to some great wheel, an impression not hindered by the scream she was giving. The Wail of the Banshee rippled out across the Militiamen and Blake lost a moment or two in shock as he saw the results. He'd only cast it a few times, and those times had been against fewer foes than it could theoretically affect and against enemies who were tough enough or warded against it that some or all of them survived.

But here the Militiamen were numerous enough the spell did not run out of targets before it ran out of ability to affect them and they had neither the warding or sheer toughness to resist it. Their confidence evaporated almost as fast, and almost as much without trace, as the ghostly woman had as more than twenty of their treasonous comrades collapsed in instant death. Fear became anger and with shouts of encouragement to each other the survivors gathered into two groups. Neeshka gave them just long enough to do this before her right arm blurred as if she was skipping a stone and something skittered across the tiles of the floor to the feet of the Militiamen to the right. Then the blastglobe exploded and flames erupted up around them to form a cloud of fire and swirling sparks as the effect lingered.

Blake knew this was one reason why the Greycloaks of Neverwinter favoured a more open formation than some armies did, and then as Araman finished chanting he demonstrated another reason. A Fireball, such as those the mages of Luskan might cast, streaked out and into the lefthand group of Militiamen. The effects of the spell were less long lasting but they were more intense and the second group was also devastated. Whatever resistance they had gained to fire from being dead was not enough to prevent them collapsing as flesh burned directly from the fire and indirectly from their heated armour and as throats and lungs were seared into uselessness by any breaths of shock.

As the Planetars strode forward Gann started putting arrows into the throats and chests of the Militiamen. At such close range his shortbow could easily pierce their scorched scalemail and he seemed to be choosing mercy. Rather than attack the less injured ones who might still pose some small threat his arrows were finishing off the dying and especially those collapsed in the still lingering fire-cloud of the blastglobe. Okku was less soft hearted and instead charged forward at the leftmost Planetar. The tall green figure swept his Greatsword down across in front of himself but the bear-god reared up onto his hindlegs at the last moment so, rather than hitting him just behind the shoulder, this blade passed harmlessly in front of him. Okku almost tottered over backwards but managed to plunge forward again while the Celestial was still twisted with his blow. His teeth and claws snagged into the chainmail over the Planetar's right arm and through it into the flesh beneath to drag him down and off balance.

The other Planetar ignored the fringes of the blastglobe cloud. This was dying down but was still hot enough to be unpleasant for most things so Blake wondered if the Celestial was tough or just determined. It had been fortunate, in a way, that Ammon Jerro had been mistaken for the King of Shadows in the tales told in West Harbour. Thinking the King of Shadows was a Warlock with an army of Demons had given Blake motivation to learn what vulnerabilities those creatures had and that had been useful at the Gate here and when Blake had met a 'mysterious warlock' who preferred to murder people rather than cooperate with them. But Blake had never expected to need to fight Celestials so he was not sure how fireproof a Planetar was.

Blake gave a yell and charged directly at the towering green figure. The Planetar turned to meet this obvious attack and, more important, turned away from moving to help his comrade to his right. Crouching down almost onto one knee the Celestial swept his Greatsword out in front of him horizontally. Blake considered and rejected the idea of trying to angle his shield to deflect this blow down into the floor. With the size of a Planetar and a Planetar-sized Greatsword that seemed unwise to attempt. Instead he retreated and just barely managed to avoid the blow.

Seeing a chance while the Planetar was crouched and swinging Neeshka darted in up the centre, but cursed as she saw no target to stab at but feathers. "His wing's in the way," she complained as she retreated.

"Almost makes you wish we were fighting Frost or Fire Giants," Blake commented, stepping left and a little forward to join her. "Celestials seem just as awkward to fight as Pit Fiends and Balors."

As the Planetar turned and straightened to follow Blake an arrow thunked into his left pauldron. Gann had laid off on his attempts at mercy killing but his arrow seemed to have stuck only in armour rather than the flesh beneath. There were arrows Gann had that would release something when they struck but he was not sure if those would be better than the ones designed to pierce more deeply that he was using.

Zoab had been a little behind his fellow Celestials who had been behind the mass of Militiamen but only a few steps, for him, had separated him from the Planetar when Blake had spoken. Those steps still separated them though as the Solar had stopped to stare at Blake at his words. "Wait… you compare us with denizens of the Hells or the Abyss?"

"I was talking simply of the problems your wings pose…"

Blake had been taught it was polite to look at whom you were talking to and even in combat those ingrained manners caused his eyes to shift to Zoab. Seeing this the Planetar stabbed his Greatsword out but Blake was not that badly distracted. He twisted aside from the blow and counter-attacked by trying to cut at the Planetar's knee just below where the plate thigh guard ended. The Planetar dodged this blow but had to take a step back in doing so.

"But you're attacking the City of Judgement and trying to kill me," Blake continued, "and the Demons were attacking the City of Judgement and trying to kill me…"

Araman had moved closer to Okku and was looking for any opening to aid with his mace while the bear-god wrestled the Planetar. Hearing the exchange, he glanced towards Blake and Zoab. "Don't be unfair, Blake. Remember the Demons wanted to drag innocent souls back to the Abyss while Zoab wishes to save them from the Wall of the Faithless…" Araman paused for a dramatic moment. "So they were acting in accordance with their place in the great scheme of things while he seeks to destroy that order."

The Planetar with Okku on his arm took his left hand off his Greatsword's hilt. Its tip dipped down to scrape across the tiles of the floor but that freed him to start punching Okku repeatedly in the snout. This was painful for the Celestial as well as the bear-god. Okku's claws and teeth had worked through his chain links and so every punch sent shocks through Okku's teeth into the Planetar's arm and sent more blood trickling down it. As he thrashed about to do more damage and try to dislocate the Celestial's shoulder Okku ignored those blows other than to growl more intensely. Even in his rage though he had the presence of mind to be grateful the Planetar didn't have a 'dagger' that he could use with just his left arm. That would be harder to ignore and especially since it would be of a size for most two-legged creatures to consider it a shortsword.

"It is true what they say," Zoab managed to reply, sounding a little dazed, "there is no greater fanatic than the 'sinner' who is now repentant."

Zoab began to advance on Araman to crush him for his insults and his betrayal of his brother's crusade. As angry as Blake had made him by refusing to support the Crusade that had at least been an honest refusal. A judgement that this was not his fight and that he had a greater concern until, from the sound of it, Kelemvor forced him into fighting on the other side. Araman though had believed, had followed and supported his brother through all their preparations, had fought by his side until Akachi had fallen, and now he mocked the righteousness of their cause?

As the Solar advanced on him Araman finished his incantation and a glowing and slightly translucent green hand burst from his own far smaller one and streaked into Zoab. For a moment as the huge fingers and thumb closed around Zoab's chest and shoulders and started to work for a grip Bigby's Crushing Hand lived up to the name of the spell. But Zoab squirmed and flexed and threw it off him to dissolve in mid air as it lost its grip. Its only effect on him was to make the glare he was giving Araman become even more intense.

Blake advanced a little to meet the also advancing rightmost Planetar. As they closed the gap Blake had forced with his attack the Celestial ignored Gann's arrows as they glanced off his breastplate, unable to do more than that against the thickness of metal a 'man' of that height and strength could wear. Neither the Planetar nor Gann were stupid though and they both knew those arrows would hurt more if Gann aimed for the head and face. To Gann's frustration the Celestial was keeping his Greatsword in a vertical guard position in front of him where he could see around it. Some of the arrows that had glanced off the breastplate had actually been intended for the Planetar's arms to try to make him drop this guard.

"Can't parry," muttered Blake to Neeshka beside him, "can't draw him into your attack because his wings protect his sides…"

"I hate to say it," Neeshka said reluctantly, "but some Khelgar tactics might work well here."

Slowly Blake nodded and then with rather more speed he charged, his sword stabbing out at the Planetar's left thigh. Rather than trusting his thigh armour to take the blow the Planetar shifted the position of his hands on its hilt and swept his Greatsword down and across his body to parry. Blake let his sword be knocked aside and used how that made him turn to his right to bring his left arm and the shield strapped to it forward. There was a clang as he punched the top curve of his shield into the Planetar's crotch, taking advantage of the height difference, and the metal rim of Blake's shield met the metal of the Celestial's codpiece. Even if this and the padding beneath spread the impact so nothing was crushed this was still a very noticeable blow. The Planetar continued the sweep of his sword to bring the tip up vertical again before twisting it a quarter turn so its edge rather than its flat would meet Blake as he brought it down.

Blake had to step back and to the right as the huge Greatsword descended. There was a scraping clang as the Planetar compensated, Blake's attempt to dodge was made not completely successful, and the blade grazed down along the blade-ridge on the front of Blake's shield. It was only a light impact but was enough with how hurriedly Blake had needed to move to keep him a little off balance and prevent him from striking back. Staying on the defensive Blake turned his slight stumble into stepping back and to his right. The Planetar turned a fraction to keep Blake in front of him and brought his Greatsword back to a guard position from which he had a good choice of attacks to launch.

Across on the left side of the room Zoab had decided to ignore the treacherous and annoying Araman, for now, and was closing in on Okku. The bear-god made a larger target than anything Araman could have struck at on the Planetar so Zoab was not as hampered by how they were wrestling. Seeing the 'alpha-wolf' approach and rather bored of being punched in the nose Okku released his grip on the Celestial's mangled arm. Not much blood was visible despite Okku's efforts as the wounds were mostly hidden by the chainmail and the padding between that and the flesh had soaked up much of what had bled from the Planetar's arm.

That some blood was visible trickling down the back of the Planetar's right hand showed the padding had become rather sodden and this, and how the arm was dangling, showed Okku's success. The Celestial's Greatsword still dangled from its right hand as he had shown impressive stubbornness in managing to keep his grip on his weapon through all the pain and wrenching at his limb. Now the Planetar brought his left hand back to the sword hilt and tried to change his grip so that rather than his right hand would be the primary. This and the blow the Celestial tried to fend Okku off with were done with painful slowness. Okku padded to his right to avoid the blow and as he did he dabbed out with his left forepaw. Spirit-claws raked across the Planetar's shin and shredded some chainmail away to reveal the leather of the boot beneath.

The other Planetar's concentration on Blake proved fatal. A few more arrows had embedded themselves almost harmlessly in his pauldron or the feathers of his wing as he continued to turn and feint at his smaller opponent. However those and Blake's own feints had kept the Celestial distracted and he staggered as a fairly light weight landed on his back as Neeshka jumped. She had sheathed her rapier and snuck almost silently forward, any tiny noise she might have made muffled by Okku's roaring and Araman's continuing taunts to Zoab, and as the Planetar continued to turn she'd pounced.

Pain surged up into the Celestial's back and shoulder as the tines of Neeshka's shield embedded themselves in the root of his left wing where it came out through his backplate. Then more pain as using that for support, and somehow managing to get a grip with her boots on metal armour, she began to slash the blade on her bracer across the back of his neck. The Planetar started flapping his wings and twisting about to try to dislodge her, he knew this would worsen the wounds in his wing root as his movements worked the tines about in them but also knew that if he survived those wounds could be healed. With deceptive ease though Neeshka clung on and managed to hook her right leg around the Planetar's side to brace herself between that and her shield and continue hacking at the back of the Celestial's neck.

Zoab rushed across to help his subordinate, but before he could cross that short distance Blake had carefully lined up his sword to stab it up and into the gap between the Planetar's thigh and crotch plates. Blood gushed as his sword severed one of the major blood vessels feeding the great muscles of the upper leg. Zoab's right arm shot out and he grabbed Neeshka to rip her off the Planetar's back as the other Celestial collapsed. The huge Solar twisted and he flung her across the room to thump limply against the opposite wall before starting to twist back and return his hand to the hilt of his Greatsword.

Rage made it hard to choke the words through his throat and to give them their correct intonation and cadence but as Zoab turned back to him Blake welcomed this turn with a spell of Disintegrate, aimed quite deliberately into the smaller, more difficult, but unarmoured target of the Solar's face. Blake did not want any of the energy of the spell wasted on eating away Zoab's armour rather than at the Celestial that had just done that to the woman he loved. The ray struck and burst and the spell's energy spread and tore apart the tough flesh and the bone and teeth beneath. One eye ruptured and the nose eroded so it first appeared to have a single nostril and then two again as the shape of the openings in the front of the skull became visible.

Blake looked towards Neeshka as Zoab staggered back and with a great effort remained on his feet. She was groaning and moving as Gann and Araman moved to aid her. They could both do this since Okku needed little help with how he had knocked the second Planetar down, appeared to be winning the wrestling match, and was snapping down at the Planetar's face.

"Heal her," Blake snarled to them, unable to prevent the words bursting from his throat despite his trust that Gann would do his best without needing to be encouraged.

Then Blake turned away and back to revenge. Zoab had not staggered very far and most of the distance Blake had to move was to go around the nearest Planetar. Almost paralysed from the wounds to his neck that Celestial could do nothing as he rapidly bled out across the tiles of the floor other than cause Blake to leave a few bloody footprints as he prowled through the edge of that puddle. One of Zoab's eyes was completely gone and the other looked to have been blinded from how Zoab seemed to be trying to listen for rather than be able to see Blake's advance.

Under other circumstances Blake might have asked for a surrender. But he was sure Zoab would not accept that offer of mercy and was even surer that he did not feel like offering it. Zoab seemed to have steadied himself on his feet so Blake slashed his sword across the front of his unarmoured thighs and then into the side of Zoab's right knee on the backswing. Blake pulled his sword straight back to cut the edge of his sword along through the wound and deepen it. Feebly the Solar tried to regain his balance again and bring his Greatsword into some sort of defensive position but Blake did not give him that chance.

He could not jump as high as his sweetheart, even if they'd both been carrying the same weight, but Blake could jump high enough to slam his shield into Zoab's guts and bounce off him. Blake's boots thumped securely back down onto the floor as his knees and hips flexed with the landing and sent that noise to join the clank of the impact in echoing around the great chamber of the Basilica. A softer noise like someone falling into mattresses joined this a moment later as Zoab toppled backwards and his wings cushioned his fall. The force and direction of the blow had been unexpected and even had he known what was coming his legs were wounded enough it would have been difficult to resist.

Blake took a moment to reverse his grip on his sword and then sprang forward from the crouch of his landing and onto the sprawled out Zoab. Bringing his sword down like a dagger Blake stabbed it through Zoab's unarmoured upper left arm with enough force, with its magical sharpness, to embed it in the floor beneath and pin the Solar like one of the insects those Gnome sisters had collected. Almost kneeling on his broad chest Blake smashed the edge of his shield into the right side of Zoab's face a few times. Then dissatisfied with this he angrily reached across to unbuckle his shield straps and free his left hand.

The shield fell away to land softly on Zoab's wing where it spread across the floor tiles as Blake clamped both hands down on the Solar's throat and dug his thumbs in to begin strangling him. With the strength of his rage and of his belt of strength the contest between Blake's grip and Zoab's thick neck was not as uneven as it appeared, or rather not as uneven in that direction. As Zoab fought for breath and small trickles of blood appeared from where the edges of the Mithril guards over Blake's thumbs had cut the Solar's neck the spirit-eater curse started to writhe within Blake and fight for release. It could feel the slightly tainted but still incredibly pure soul of Zoab and that he was weakening.

Hesitantly the curse reached out to try to taste that soul, expecting like a whipped animal to be driven back at any moment, but to as much surprise as the almost empty remnants of Akachi could feel it was not pushed back. For the first time Blake and it were in accord and the form with its writhing tentacles started to appear and Blake's eyes to glow a little as he embraced the curse. He would crush Zoab's throat and the curse would crush Zoab's soul. Beneath Blake the Solar convulsed as the energy of his spirit started to flow. There was a slight crunch as Blake tightened his grip to hold on and with the extra strength of, at the least, not being as weakened by the curse crushed some of the cartilage of Zoab's windpipe.

"Harbour-boy!" a voice called. Blake barely noticed this with the rushing in his ears. "Harbour-boy!" the voice repeated and, belatedly recognising it, Blake turned his head to look at Neeshka. She took an involuntary half step backwards as she saw the glowing eyes and bared teeth and feral expression the edge of Blake's helmet had hidden. "Harbour-boy," she said again, trying to look and sound calm rather than horrified, "please don't do this."

Blake looked at Neeshka for a moment, easily seeing through her pretence of calm thanks to the insight he gained both from the love they shared and the Dreamer's Eye he had developed. Then he looked at Zoab and let out a hiss like a snake. Blake pulled his hands back away from Zoab's neck and then slammed them down again in paired punches either side of the Solar's partially ruined face. There was another crunch as a Mithril gauntlet defeated Zoab's cheekbone and behind Blake the curse-form also jerked and wavered in response, as if it had also been punched. Blake sat back more onto his heels and his fists clenched and unclenched a few times as he brought them closer together in front of him.

This was difficult, the only similar experience he'd had was trying to stop urinating in mid-stream, but he had succeeded then and would now. His whole body quivered with effort and then his eyes stopped glowing and the tentacles of the curse-form crumpled in on themselves like paper being suddenly folded and twisted. An instant later they were crushed back into the main body of the curse-form and that was also crushed into nothingness like a flea between an Ogre's fingernails.

As the curse-form vanished and he felt the scream of its protest at being denied when it had come so close Blake took three quick deep breaths. Then he calmly and unhurriedly reached down and drew his dagger and slashed it across Zoab's throat. And back again, and then across a third time to deepen the wound since he had never seen the need to have a magically sharp blade when he used it more often to whittle firewood into chips or cut sausages rather than enemies. It looked to Blake as if this was likely a fatal wound but he wanted to be sure so he stabbed his dagger down into Zoab's eye. He twisted it about before pulling it out and stabbing it back down into the eyesocket his Disintegrate had already destroyed the eye within. After giving his dagger a few twists in there as well Blake left it jutting from Zoab's face as he rose and walked across Zoab's wing to where it no longer carpeted the floor.

Glancing across he saw that Okku had succeeded in ripping the Planetar's throat out and that the other had also finished dying. Neeshka was still looking worried so Blake tried to give her a reassuring smile. "Are you alright, my love?"

Neeshka flung herself forward in a few bounding steps and into a very tight hug. She held it for a few moments before stepping back. "A few bruises, I know how to fall and how to go limp and absorb impacts." Blake nodded in relief but then Neeshka frowned at him. "What about you?"

"Fine, thanks," Blake said, his usual reticence about discussing how well he was combining with his reluctance to discuss what he'd nearly done. Neeshka's frown deepened in dissatisfaction but before she could press the subject Blake looked around and tried to change it. "Are any of these militiamen still alive?"

"If any survive until priests of the faithful can return to the Basilica," replied Araman, "then they shall receive Kelemvor's mercy."

Blake hesitated and then decided he didn't care whether that 'mercy' meant being freed of the pain of their wounds by being healed of them or by being killed to end their suffering. One of Kelemvor's titles was Judge of the Damned and if these militiamen had been sentenced to serve as such because they had been False to their Gods then Kelemvor and his faithful had the right to judge them again in their city. Blake moved back and retrieved his shield and strapped it on before yanking his dagger from Zoab's face. He crouched and gave it a quick wipe on the corpse's wing to remove the worst of the debris before straightening again and pulling his self-cleaning cloth from where it was roughly folded and stuffed under his belt.

"It is fortunate you regained control of the curse, little-one" Okku rumbled.

For a moment Blake just looked at the bear-god, his hands still rather than continuing to wipe his dagger with that cloth. "Regained control," he finally repeated. He was not sure that he had actually lost control of the curse rather than 'just' his temper and so was not sure if Okku was being nice to blame it on the curse rather than him. "Yes, we are close enough to ending this that I should always make sure it obeys me."

Blake finished cleaning his dagger and as he slotted this back into its scabbard Gann overcame his hesitation. "I feel I should ask," Gann said, reluctance dripping from every word, "but was it obeying you just now? Before your lady's request and your crushing it back within you I mean."

"What do you think, my friend?" said Blake, giving Gann a thin smile and moving back towards Zoab. "Consider the control I have shown of it, forcing it to feed the Wood Man rather than feed on the Wood Man for example, and consider the reasons I have to want Zoab dead. And preferably dead into oblivion rather than risk him going to some afterlife from where he might return to revenge upon us."

Gann watched and considered as Blake wrenched his sword out of Zoab's arm and the floor beneath and wiped it on the Celestial's wing before setting to work on it with his cloth. "I think Rashemen is fortunate you and this curse disagreed about the eating of spirits, and that your beloved has remained well."

"So, Araman," Blake said, after a nod to Gann. "All three of Akachi's Captains are dead, along with many others, can we now fulfil Okku's oath or is there yet another damned hoop to jump through?"

"The little-one's impatience is beginning to match my own," rumbled Okku, "and that is quite the deed to manage."

Neeshka's hand went to her rapier as her eyes narrowed. "And I dislike my harbour-boy having to follow your path, almost as much as I'd have disliked him following The Founder's path after she had him kidnapped."

"Kaelyn is still to be located and dealt with," Araman replied, not greatly intimidated, "but the Crusade might have been weakened enough already."

"Then where to?" asked Blake, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and tightening one shield strap. "We have fought long and hard enough that those of us who are not dead or bear-gods might appreciate rest and food, but also prefer to get this over with first."

"I don't know," Araman admitted. "But what insight Kelemvor is granting me tells me patience will soon be rewarded."

"Very well," replied Blake, "but let us leave this magnificent building. The smell of burnt flesh and released bowels is rather strong, though either my nose is numbed or it is not as bad as it might be."

"Celestials and the False souls sentenced to serve in the Militia here don't need to eat as often," Araman agreed, following Blake, "and less food means less, shall we say, contents for their bowels to release."

Blake nodded as they passed through the doors and out again into the grey lit city. The air smelt even deader after the unpleasant but less sterile stench the fighting had created within the Basilica. Looking around they saw a figure in robes of Kelemvor gingerly clambering down and picking his way through the corpses this side of the barricade. This seemed unusual enough to watch and not much threat, though with how many traitor Militiamen they had seen it did not seem impossible this person's robes might not reflect their loyalties. Gann moved a little to one side for a clear line of sight with his shortbow and Neeshka checked her rapier was still moving freely in its scabbard as the man halted at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at them.

"I bring a message from the Scrivener," the man started, eyes moving nervously as he looked at the patches of Celestial blood on Blake's armour. Visibly rejecting the idea of asking questions the man stuck to his prepared speech. "He has heard of your efforts to bring an end to this conflict, as well as your desire to gain access to the Codex of the Doomed. The Temple doors will no longer deny you entrance, and he requests that you meet with him immediately."

"The Scrivener and the Codex?" Araman mused. "He and it will know where in the wall your soul is to be found, we should go at once."

"Let me guess," grumbled Blake. "Along with the rest of this city's records this Scrivener and his records are in Eternity's End. Where we have only just been to help defend it against Rammaq."

"An accurate guess," Araman admitted.

Blake looked back down at the man. "Thank you. May Shaundakul bless your travels, wherever you are going next."

The man nervously nodded, not sure about accepting the blessing of another God than Kelemvor but not wanting to seem ungrateful to an armed and armoured man with gore on his arm and a huge spirit-bear at his side. Blake nodded back and then walked down the stairs and back towards the barricade. There was a distinct valley worn in this where Okku had made his way across it and as you were meant to be able to climb up the rear of it this was marginally easier to pass than it had been when approaching the Basilica.

"Not been a very profitable trip so far in this city, harbour-boy," Neeshka commented, trying more to divert him than genuinely complain.

"True enough," smiled Blake, "Demons vanish, treasonous Militiamen are not rich, Celestials have swords that would be very hard to fit in even your bags…"

"What of poor Sey'ryu?" Gann asked as they approached the side street that they had entered the boulevard from. "I have heard tales of people wearing Dragonhide armour and of its quality."

"Speaking practically we did not have time to skin her," replied Blake, looking down the street before they moved into it. "Speaking morally I would have qualms about wearing or using parts of something that could speak, and since they'd been allies Halor would likely have also objected."

"I think that is a feeling I share," Gann mused, "if you could have had a conversation with it, even if that consisted of threats and promises of death, then wearing its skin or eating its meat seems wrong."

"Which means we don't have to regret the missed chance, my friend," sighed Blake, continuing to glance around rather than assume their route was safe. "Though her wing membranes would likely have made good leather, and we could have found enough scales of the right size and shape to reinforce areas that need less flexibility without us needing the metal plates you are reluctant to wear."

"That was my thought," Gann admitted, "before I considered her as a thinking being rather than a source of materials."

"You can't be that fussy, harbour-boy," grinned Neeshka to Blake before she returned to watching for open windows. "You did offer me that horn and we had spoken to U'leth."

"And I was very glad you refused," Blake smiled back. "Would have been a less practical gift than Dragonhide though, I was thinking of scrimshaw and gilding."

"That might have been pretty," admitted Neeshka, though she gave a little moue of disgust, "but would still have been rather icky, like Leldon wanting my horns as proof I was dead."

Blake winced. "Blast, that had slipped my mind, and no wonder you gave me such a strange look when I offered. Your horns are so pretty and delicate I'd not thought of them as trophies."

"Flatterer," Neeshka said, giving Blake a forgiving smile.

"This Leldon seems even more unpleasant than I thought," commented Gann as they reached another turning. "You mentioned him having sent thugs after your lady-love but not that he was so… lacking in style… as to want body parts."

"I owed him some gratitude," Blake said, to Neeshka's surprise, "as had he not betrayed her and not made Neverwinter unhealthy for her then Neeshka might not have gone travelling and we might not have met. Of course that gratitude did not extend to not trapping him in mid-burglary, or to not being glad that he was stupid enough to fight and resist arrest and thus give us the chance to hear his last words."

"A chance I am sure you were happy to have had," smiled Gann.