The Price of the Break
The dragonborn woman’s blood remained upon the stones.
Everything else was gone.
The woman who had hired them.
Gavasani.
The witness’s body.
Isamu stood with one hand extended into the empty space where all three had vanished.
Behind him, the last fiend screamed.
The creature tore through the remains of Nethnarel’s stone wall and lunged toward Kaylor.
The poison had released the dragonborn’s body.
It had not released his anger.
Kaylor met the fiend with his axe.
The first strike opened its side.
The Dancing Sword came from the opposite direction and cut across its spine.
Grazim reached it next.
The Warhammer of Disruption struck with a sound that passed through more than flesh. Divine force entered the fiend and broke whatever held it to the world.
The creature collapsed.
Its body began to blacken before it struck the floor.
Within moments, little remained except smoke and a foul stain across the stones.
No one celebrated.
Hexen moved through the prison corridors, checking the cells.
Every door stood open.
Every chamber was empty.
The commander had told them the truth.
There had never been a prison full of condemned criminals waiting for execution.
There had never been a Mayhem for them to rescue.
Joraya had been emptied for one reason.
To protect the dragonborn woman.
The heroes returned to the guards they had frightened into the side chamber.
Isamu kicked the locked door open.
The guards recoiled as he entered.
“Who was she?”
No one answered.
Isamu crossed the room and seized the nearest guard by his armor.
“The dragonborn woman. Who was she?”
The guard stared past him toward the destroyed corridor.
He had heard the shield guardians fall.
He had heard the fiends.
He had heard the prison’s protections being torn apart.
Fear overcame discipline.
“She was a witness.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
Isamu tightened his grip.
The guard shook his head.
“I swear. We were not permitted to speak with her.”
Kaylor entered.
The sight of him produced a different kind of fear.
He wore the armor of the Sanctum of Serenity.
He also wore the blood of its guards.
“Tell me everything you were told.”
The guard swallowed.
“Two days ago, orders came from the duke’s court. Every ordinary prisoner was transferred to another facility.”
“Why?”
“To isolate her.”
“From whom?”
“We were not told.”
“Who brought her?”
“A senior official. Not from the prison.”
The guard’s voice shook.
“She was supposed to remain here until the duke returned.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
The timing struck all of them.
The woman at Hunter’s Landing had given them a false execution deadline that ended at almost the exact moment the duke was due to return.
Kaylor’s voice became quieter.
“What was the witness going to tell him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
The guard hesitated.
“It concerned someone powerful.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Kaylor stepped closer.
The guard pressed himself against the wall.
“Someone inside the church,” he said. “That is all I heard. A senior figure. She had evidence of a terrible crime.”
The room became still.
Craven.
No one said the name.
No one needed to.
Grazim looked toward the blood outside the cells.
“They removed her body.”
The guard nodded.
“They would have to.”
“Why?”
The guard stared at him as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Because death is not always the end.”
A corpse could be questioned.
A spirit could be called.
Life itself could sometimes be restored.
Killing the witness had not been enough.
They had taken every remaining path to her testimony with them.
Kaylor released a slow breath.
“What did the prison’s guardians protect?”
The guard’s eyes moved toward the corridor.
“The entire facility.”
“The antimagic field?”
“Yes.”
“The cells?”
“Yes.”
“The teleportation wards?”
The guard nodded.
Understanding arrived all at once.
The woman who had hired them had not possessed a way into Joraya.
Gavasani had not been guiding them to Mayhem.
They had needed the heroes to cross the catacombs, break the ancient protections, destroy the shield guardians and tear open the prison from beneath.
Only after the antimagic field fell could they enter.
Only after the heroes distracted the guards could they reach the witness.
Only after the heroes cleared the path could they teleport away.
Nethnarel stared at the empty corridor.
“They could not reach her until we destroyed the guardians.”
No one contradicted her.
Isamu released the guard.
The man collapsed against the wall.
The heroes returned to the kitchen and sleeping quarters.
The three guards they had bound still lay where they had been left. Their commander remained under the fading influence of Nethnarel’s spell.
Kaylor removed the blindfold from one.
“Your prisoner is dead.”
The guard stared at him.
“Her body was taken.”
Another struggled against the ropes.
“What did you do?”
Kaylor cut the bindings.
“We were deceived.”
The guard rubbed his wrists.
“You broke into Joraya.”
“Yes.”
“You destroyed the guardians.”
“Yes.”
“You allowed them to reach her.”
Kaylor’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The commander continued looking at Nethnarel with misplaced devotion.
She ended the charm.
His expression changed.
Affection vanished.
Memory remained.
He looked at the restrained guards.
Then at the blood upon the heroes.
Then toward the corridor where the shield guardians had stood.
“What have you done?”
An alarm began sounding somewhere above them.
Not magical.
Metal struck metal in a steady, urgent rhythm.
Someone on the island had discovered the attack.
Kaylor cut the remaining ropes.
“Your charge has been murdered. We did not kill her.”
The commander drew himself upright.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Kaylor turned toward the floor hatch.
“I expect you to find what remains and decide whether Craven wanted you to.”
The commander’s face changed at the name.
Not recognition.
Alarm.
Kaylor saw it.
Then the sounds above multiplied.
Boots crossed stone.
Orders were shouted.
More guards were coming.
The heroes descended through the interrogation chamber.
They entered the catacombs they had already cleared and moved as quickly as exhaustion allowed.
No bone collective rose.
No oozes descended.
No ancient guardians waited inside the tomb.
They had killed everything that might have slowed their escape.
The consequences of that fact followed them through the tunnels.
They crossed beneath Krinrith Bay and emerged through the abandoned fishing shack at South Point Harbor.
Daylight had begun to touch the eastern sky.
Gavasani was still dead beneath Joraya.
Or something wearing his face had been.
No one understood how the man they watched die could have stood inside the prison alive.
No one understood how long the deception had been in motion.
The city did not yet know their names.
It knew their descriptions.
An elf.
A tiefling.
Two humans who should not exist upon this plane.
A dragonborn wearing the armor of the Sanctum.
They needed somewhere to disappear.
Kaylor knew only one person in Krinrith whom he had trusted without reservation.
Viran.
The commander who had trained him.
The mentor who had recognized him despite the years that should have made such recognition impossible.
The person who had believed him when he accused Ishgar.
They reached Viran’s estate without attracting pursuit.
The triton answered the door himself.
His surprise became concern when he saw them.
“Kaylor?”
“We need shelter.”
Viran looked at the blood.
Then at the streets behind them.
“Inside.”
He moved them through the entrance quickly and closed the doors.
Several members of his household appeared in the adjoining rooms, but Viran dismissed them after seeing Kaylor’s expression.
The heroes gathered inside a private chamber.
Kaylor told him everything.
The hidden passage.
The empty prison.
The antimagic guardians.
The woman they had believed they were helping.
Gavasani’s return.
The dragonborn witness’s murder.
Viran listened without interruption.
When Kaylor finished, his mentor sat in silence.
“I sent you toward Hunter’s Landing,” Viran said.
“You sent us toward the warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“That is where they found us.”
Viran looked troubled.
“I did not know.”
Kaylor wanted to believe him.
He did.
More than he wanted almost anything else.
Viran had been one of the few solid pieces of his recovered life. Ishgar had become Craven. The Sanctum had become a mask. His own memories had become evidence against everything he had once believed.
He needed Viran to remain true.
The triton met his eyes.
“I believe you.”
Kaylor felt some part of the weight ease.
Not much.
Enough.
Viran gave them rooms and ordered the household not to speak of their presence.
The heroes slept.
Eight hours passed.
When they gathered again, Viran had news.
He had sent trusted contacts into the city while they rested.
The prison guards’ account was already moving through official channels. So were descriptions of the people responsible for the breach.
Viran placed a bundle of plain cloaks upon the table.
“You should not leave uncovered.”
Nethnarel examined one.
“This will not disguise my face.”
“No,” Viran said. “But it may prevent every person in the street from seeing it.”
He turned toward Kaylor.
“The witness’s existence has been confirmed.”
“What was her name?”
“I could not learn it.”
“Where was she from?”
“Riverwind.”
Kaylor knew the name.
A small farming settlement north of Krinrith.
Or what remained of one.
Viran continued.
“The community was destroyed. She was the sole survivor.”
“How?”
“No one knows. She hid during the attack. She described sounds and voices that did not belong to this plane.”
“Fiends,” Grazim said.
“Possibly.”
“Craven.”
Viran hesitated.
“The accusation involved a high-ranking official connected to the church.”
Kaylor stared at him.
“Craven.”
“I cannot prove that.”
“She could.”
“Yes.”
Viran looked toward the window.
“And now she cannot.”
The laws of Krinrith required testimony in person. An accuser faced the accused before the duke’s court. Without the witness, the case could not proceed as intended.
Even if fragments of written evidence remained, the person accused could challenge them.
The witness had been the proof.
The heroes had helped erase her.
“The duke returns tonight,” Viran said.
Kaylor rose.
“Then we go to him.”
“With what?”
“The truth.”
“Your truth will place you inside Joraya after breaking its wards and attacking its guards.”
“Grazim can prepare Zone of Truth.”
“The duke must agree to hear you.”
“I will make him hear me.”
Viran stood as well.
“You cannot approach the palace openly. The guard is already looking for people matching your descriptions.”
Kaylor’s anger sharpened.
“Then I go to Craven.”
Fendor watched him.
“And do what?”
“Put him in front of the duke.”
“You cannot prove Ishgar is Craven.”
“We saw his face.”
“In a carving inside a vault that no longer exists.”
“We found his victims.”
“A thousand years in the future,” Nethnarel said.
Kaylor looked at her.
She did not retreat.
“Everything we know is true,” she said. “Almost none of it can be proven to anyone who was not there.”
Hexen leaned against the table.
“The body.”
Everyone looked at him.
“If we recover the witness, Grazim may be able to restore her.”
“Or question her,” Isamu said.
Kaylor’s thoughts moved through the possibilities.
Find the woman who had hired them.
Recover the body.
Reach the duke.
Expose Craven.
Every path returned to the warehouse at Hunter’s Landing.
The woman had controlled the people there.
Or appeared to.
Gavasani had been connected to her.
The warehouse was where the deception had begun.
“We go back,” Kaylor said.
Viran supplied them with cloaks.
When Kaylor offered payment, his mentor refused.
“Keep your coin.”
For an instant, Viran sounded exactly as Kaylor remembered.
That hurt more than it should have.
They returned to Hunter’s Landing after nightfall.
The warehouse complex occupied several joined structures near the southern docks. Newer buildings had been added around older ones until the whole place resembled a maze constructed by merchants who valued space more than order.
A sixty-foot watchtower stood above the northern edge.
Isamu studied it.
Then began running.
He reached the wall without slowing.
His feet carried him upward along the vertical stone.
At the top, a ratfolk guard walked beneath the parapet.
He never saw Isamu coming.
The monk rose over the wall, struck three times and lowered the body before it could fall loudly against the stones.
A hatch led into the tower.
Isamu descended the spiral stair.
A second guard turned.
Isamu reached him first.
The ratfolk collapsed.
Isamu concealed the body beneath a narrow bed and opened the tower’s lower door.
The others entered.
No passage connected the tower directly to the warehouse interior.
Fendor examined the roofs from above.
The complex rose and fell across several heights. Two chimneys released smoke into the night. One carried the scent of cooking fish. The other smelled only of burning wood.
Hexen smiled.
“I can remove the fire.”
Isamu looked toward the chimney.
“And I can enter through it.”
“That is your plan?”
“It is more direct than searching every wall.”
Hexen became living water long enough to flow through the chimney and extinguish the fire below.
Steam rose.
Isamu descended immediately after him.
He dropped into a storage chamber and landed beside an astonished ratfolk worker.
The worker reached for a weapon.
Isamu struck first.
The others followed through the chimney.
The fight spread into the adjoining rooms.
Ratfolk with daggers and rapiers emerged from behind stacked barrels. Hexen called his wolves. The pack filled the tight passages, driving workers and guards away from doors and into the paths of Kaylor and Grazim.
Nethnarel divided her Magic Missiles between two attackers.
The bolts curved through the crowded chamber and dropped both.
Fendor fired wherever the others left him a line.
Kaylor joined Isamu near the center of the room.
The Dancing Sword moved beside him while the axe in his hands broke the defenders’ formation.
Within moments, the room belonged to the heroes.
The surviving ratfolk fled deeper into the complex.
The heroes searched the bodies and storage chests.
They found seventy-five gold pieces and two clear pieces of quartz worth perhaps fifty gold each.
Nothing connected the room to Craven.
Nothing named the woman.
Nothing explained Mayhem.
Gygax scouted beneath a door.
Through the familiar, Nethnarel found a fish-processing chamber where two ratfolk worked with cleavers beside tables of fresh catch.
They did not appear to be preparing an ambush.
They appeared to be working.
The distinction did not stop the heroes quickly enough.
Isamu entered first.
One worker went down beneath his strikes.
Hexen and his wolves followed.
The second worker died before he could call for help.
The heroes moved through a room filled with fish barrels, hooks, nets and ordinary warehouse tools.
Fendor looked at the dead workers.
“They were not armed for us.”
Kaylor did not answer.
The Wand of Secrets revealed a concealed door in a wooden wall.
Kaylor went through first.
A worker inside saw him and shouted.
Kaylor attacked.
The others entered behind him.
The secret passage opened into another series of storage rooms where ratfolk laborers and celestial-blooded overseers moved crates, cloth, grain and barrels.
Some fought.
Some ran.
One manager tried to reach a distant door.
Hexen’s wolves brought him down before he could raise an alarm.
Another fled across the chamber.
Nethnarel stopped him with Ice Knife. Cold exploded through his body, and he fell among broken crates.
Isamu used Step of the Wind to cross the room and stunned one of the celestial-blooded overseers before he escaped.
Fendor sent a Seeking Arrow after another.
The enchanted shaft followed the fleeing man through the warehouse and struck him even after he passed from sight.
Nethnarel placed a Fireball beyond the heroes.
Flame filled the rear of the chamber.
Two defenders vanished inside it.
A third stumbled out burning.
The fight ended with one warehouse worker cowering in a corner.
He dropped the fish hook he had been using to move cargo.
“Please.”
Kaylor approached him.
“Who do you work for?”
“The market.”
“Who owns this warehouse?”
The worker gave a name Kaylor had never heard.
“Mayhem?”
The man stared.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“The woman who operates from this complex.”
“What woman?”
“Craven?”
Nothing.
Only confusion.
Kaylor cast Zone of Truth.
The magic closed around them.
He repeated every question.
The answers did not change.
The man was a warehouse laborer.
He moved fish, grain and cloth.
His manager was an aasimar who worked for the market owners.
He knew nothing about Mayhem.
Nothing about the prison.
Nothing about Craven.
Nothing about the people the heroes had come to find.
Kaylor looked around the chamber.
Dead laborers lay among spilled cargo.
The criminal network had used this place.
That did not mean everyone inside it had belonged to the network.
The heroes had returned for revenge.
They had found workers.
The terrified man emptied a small purse onto the floor.
Five silver pieces rolled between Kaylor’s boots.
“Take it.”
Kaylor looked down.
“Go.”
The worker did not move.
“Go!”
The man ran.
Doors opened deeper in the warehouse as others fled with him.
Fendor lowered his bow.
“We were used twice.”
Nethnarel looked toward the dead.
“The second time we helped ourselves.”
Hexen cast Locate Creature.
He held the image of the woman who had sent them to Joraya in his mind.
The spell reached outward.
Nothing answered within a thousand feet.
“She is not here.”
“Then we leave,” Kaylor said.
Grazim looked toward him.
“And go where?”
“The duke.”
“We still need him to hear us.”
“He will.”
“We are now wanted for breaking into Joraya and attacking a warehouse.”
“I will stand inside a Zone of Truth.”
Nethnarel nodded.
“That is better than our recent plans.”
They returned toward the concealed passage.
A magically amplified voice shook the warehouse walls.
“Drop your weapons and exit the building.”
Everyone stopped.
The command came again.
“Come out peacefully or we will enter.”
The heroes reached the outer corridor and looked into the street.
Four figures waited beneath the night sky.
Dragonborn warriors wore the armor of the Sanctum of Serenity. Two carried swords and shields. Behind them stood a robed spellcaster and a cleric wearing the vestments of Kaylor’s faith.
More troops moved in the darkness beyond them.
Kaylor sheathed his axe.
The Dancing Sword returned to his hand and became still.
He stepped into the street with empty hands raised.
“I am Kaylor, Guardian of the Sanctum of Serenity.”
The two paladins hesitated at the sight of his armor.
“I will surrender myself to the duke’s authority,” Kaylor continued. “I will testify beneath divine truth concerning the corruption of this city and the crimes of Ishgar.”
Someone stepped from behind the guards.
Viran.
Kaylor’s mentor pointed directly at him.
“That is the one.”
The paladins drew their weapons.
Kaylor stared at Viran.
For one heartbeat, he could not understand the words.
Then the guards began advancing.
Nethnarel stepped beside Kaylor.
“I can move them without killing them.”
She raised both hands.
Water gathered in the air.
A Tidal Wave began forming across the street.
The robed spellcaster made a sharp gesture.
The water vanished.
Counterspell.
Kaylor called upon his own magic.
“Then hear the truth.”
A Zone of Truth began forming around him.
The cleric countered it.
The spell disappeared before it could settle.
Kaylor looked from one spellcaster to the other.
“We are trying to surrender.”
Viran remained behind them.
“They broke into Joraya. They destroyed its guardians. They murdered the protected witness.”
“No,” Kaylor said.
Viran met his eyes.
The expression on his face contained no doubt.
No conflict.
No recognition of the man he had sheltered only hours before.
Kaylor understood.
Not all of it.
Enough.
“Viran is compromised.”
The nearest paladin charged him.
Kaylor blocked the first strike.
The second passed across his armor.
Divine light followed the blade.
A Smite.
The power of Kaylor’s own god burned through him.
Isamu moved past Kaylor.
He struck one of the counterspelling priests with the rapier, followed with an elbow and drove focused ki into the man’s body.
The priest resisted the first Stunning Strike.
Then the second.
On the third, his body locked.
Fendor opened fire.
His first arrows struck the images surrounding Viran rather than the mentor himself.
Mirror Image.
False versions shattered beneath the shots.
One redirected arrow curved toward the cleric and struck him through the shoulder.
Grazim blessed Kaylor.
Holy power settled over the dragonborn even as the servants of the same faith tried to kill him.
Hexen became living air.
He surged into one of the paladins and tried to throw him away from the battle. The warrior resisted the whirlwind but staggered beneath its force.
Nethnarel saw more guards arriving.
She sent a Fireball into the street beyond the first line.
The explosion broke their advance.
Some fell.
Others emerged burning.
Kaylor watched them.
They wore the armor he had worn.
They carried the symbols he had trusted.
Some were almost certainly innocent.
Some had been lied to.
They attacked anyway.
Viran began casting another spell.
Kaylor drank the Potion of Growth.
His body expanded.
Armor stretched with him.
Within moments, he stood twice his ordinary height.
The nearest paladin struck him as he passed.
Kaylor ignored the wound.
He crossed the street toward the man who had trained him.
The man who had believed him.
The man who had opened his home.
Viran drew a great blade.
The weapon struck Kaylor hard enough to cut deeply even through his enlarged armor.
Kaylor did not slow.
He brought the axe down.
The first blow struck Viran.
The second carried every remaining fragment of Kaylor’s divine power.
Smite answered.
Radiance exploded through his mentor.
Not the ordinary force Kaylor expected.
More.
The power recognized something.
Something beneath Viran’s shape.
The triton collapsed.
Dark wings unfolded from behind him.
Not feathered.
Not celestial.
Demonic.
For a heartbeat, Viran’s face remained upon the thing that struck the ground.
Then it shifted.
The features no longer fit correctly.
The body beneath them had never been the man Kaylor remembered.
Kaylor stared.
His mentor had not betrayed him.
His mentor was gone.
Something had murdered Viran, taken his face and waited for Kaylor to trust it.
Craven was not merely hiding beneath the Sanctum.
Craven’s servants had entered Kaylor’s memories.
They had replaced the people who shaped him.
They had used their faces as weapons.
Kaylor turned toward the remaining guards.
“You have been deceived!”
The paladins did not lower their weapons.
One attacked Nethnarel.
Another engaged Grazim.
The surviving cleric summoned Spirit Guardians. Radiant forms circled him, the same divine beings Grazim had called countless times.
The spirits struck the heroes.
Good magic.
True magic.
Used to protect a lie.
Viran’s false body moved.
Kaylor looked back.
The demon stood.
Radiance still burned through the wound Kaylor had opened, but the creature’s flesh drew itself together around it.
The thing smiled with Viran’s mouth.
Then vanished.
Teleportation folded around it.
Kaylor’s axe passed through empty air.
More guards entered the street.
Fendor invoked the healing power of the Oathbow. Strength spread through the party.
Nethnarel discharged the Wand of Magic Missiles into the nearest paladin.
Grazim knocked another warrior from his feet with his shield and brought his hammer down.
Isamu stunned the cleric maintaining the radiant spirits.
Hexen’s whirlwind threw one guard across the street.
Still more voices approached from the city.
The people arriving now were not demons.
They were guards.
Paladins.
Clerics.
People who believed they were defending Krinrith from criminals who had attacked a prison and slaughtered workers at the docks.
“We leave,” Fendor said.
Kaylor looked after the vanished demon.
“We leave now,” Grazim repeated.
Hexen rose above the street in his air elemental form.
“I will draw them south.”
The others ran north.
Magic followed them.
A Fireball rose toward Hexen and exploded in the night sky.
The elemental passed through the flames.
Magic Missiles struck him next.
He remained in the air, forcing the guards’ attention upward while his companions escaped.
Isamu reached the first alley.
Nethnarel followed.
Fendor covered their retreat with the Oathbow.
Grazim ran in armor that made every step sound like an alarm.
Kaylor came last.
The Sanctum’s vestments still hung over his armor.
The symbol of his order struck against his chest as he ran.
Ishgar was Craven.
The witness was dead because Kaylor had trusted a criminal bargain.
The warehouse workers were dead because he had chosen anger over judgment.
Viran had been murdered and replaced by a demon.
The servants of his god had countered the truth and attacked him beneath the command of that demon.
Behind him, the city guards continued their pursuit.
Ahead, his friends disappeared into the darkness beyond Krinrith.
Kaylor closed one hand around the vestments.
The oath remained.
For perhaps another dozen steps.