Almost six blocks down the road, Tahl stopped on the edge of a building, toes curling around the lip of the eaves as she held onto her position.

Now this was going to be a peculiar jump…

Almost twice the distance and, by her measure, at least a foot in height of difference between her jump point and the landing, Tahl was left staring at the most difficult gap that she had ever attempted to close.

For she was going to close it.

Stepping back to the opposing end of the rooftop, Tahl steadied herself, breathing deeply and slipping into a Zen-like state. She could feel the gravely texture beneath the slips of her feet, the wind through the buildings surrounding her and… the chinking of chain link behind her?

Raising an eyebrow, Tahl looked over her left shoulder in time to catch the moonlight glint off the comers armour. She couldn’t help but smile.

Let him come then…

Tahl stepped forward, franticly pumping her muscles harder now that she had an audience; after all, one just had to impress. Left right, left right – across the rooftop she fled - gaining speed until finally she leapt, graceful as a cat, into the air.

A second later she rolled safely onto the landing, heart pumping fiercely in her chest, protesting at the sudden exertion it had faced. Tahl stood, took a deep breath of air and smiled. For all her fears, it seemed that even after a long year of relatively no action to speak of, all of her reflexes remained as practised and attuned as ever they had.

The thought was endearing, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing whoever seemed to be trailing her now. So off she went, hopping here and there, and taking a right turn three separate landings later.

* * *

After she was sure she had lost the clanky warrior of sorts in her dust, Tahl began to slow. She had been following the hoof prints up until about two minutes prior, and had only stopped because the gravel had turned to cobblestone, obscuring any way to track them further.

The air though had since chilled however, and to her very bones Tahl could not help but feel that she was indeed close - mayhap even a little too close - to Adin’s position. The two had a great knack for each other now, and it seemed only heightened by her superior perception and intuition on the matter.

Upon cresting the tip of the last roof top on the block to look down upon the street square, what Tahl saw, nearly stopped her heart. Laying clearly in the moonlight amongst the rubble and turned up earth, laid Adin’tel.

Tahl found her way down immediately, sparing no time to clear the space between them.

“Adin’tel.”

He didn’t move, yet he was not dead, merely succumbed to whatever was ailing his body and sapping his strength.

Panicking, Tahl reached into her knapsack. She knew not what Adin’tel had succumbed to, knew not how to cure the infection or whatever the hells it might have been coursing through his system, but she had this one vial… this one.

Rummaging through the many vials at the pit of her bag, she held aloft several to the moon, surveying the colour, viscosity, and sometimes even offing the stopper to raise it to her nostrils.

When after a moment she happened upon a particularly viscous vial of what looked to be the sewer sludge of Cormyr’s own underground, Tahl took no time in popping the top and plunging it down Adin’tel slack mouth.

She waited a few moments, trying to remember what the old Rashemi witch had told her. Were there any words of power to mumble? Or any, in fact, that should leave her lips to enable it’s healing effects? By the gods, if so, she couldn’t recall them – and as such was left to wait and watch.

A few moments passed and still nothing appeared to be happening. Adin’tel’s breathing had neither quickened nor lessened, and she couldn’t say whether or not he was here nor there.

“Adin’tel, you worthless roving Drow, I dare you to surrender your life to this. Dare it I say and you’ll know more pain than ever your pitiful life was worth when we reach each other in the hells that may –“

And then he coughed. He didn’t open his eyes, nay, no more color returned to his cheeks (not that she would have been able to tell, anyhow), but he had coughed.

And that was enough for her.

“That’s what I thought.”

Passion rules reason...

The werewolf could smell the fear. The pungent tinge of rotten eggs, accompanied by the sweet copper of blood, wafted through the embassy enticing more creatures than just the undead. Rodents scurried back and forth, from dead human to charred vampire bone, opportunistically gnawing for sustenance.

Tearing a vampire limb from limb, Wulf took in a deep breath and relished two distinct scents of fear. The prominent was one coming from all in the area, human and vampire alike. It was a fear of a being greater than them all, Barabas. The other odour was pouring from the vampires that knew that an ancient enemy was near, a werewolf.

Distracted, the name reverberated around the werebeast's animalistic mind in a language the he didn’t understand. Yet, what the wolf did understand was that this creature, this Barabas, was the pack leader, the dominant one, and needed to be challenged. He did not have a reason for wanting to challenge the creature; but powerful instincts drove him to the task.

He rushed through the lessers, to find their master.

Things were developing rather nicely. "This will make a great ballad to tell the children" Korbin thought. If any of us lives through it.

"I'm all right, I'm..." He couldn't speak, Shyra covered his every word

"I won't let you die, I won't let you die". Had she just called him "dad"? Korbin, the man who feared nothing, feared words above all else. And that word in particular.

"I'm all right" he mechanically repeated. Shyra had to be dragged back to where Nox and Meryll were still struggling against Barabas' magic. And was she... smiling?! The Cormyrean had seen many a strange thing in battle but there was never a shortage of something new to surprise him.

When the young druid finally settled down, Korbin caught a glimpse of Meryll. She chanced a brief glance at him.

"Just like old times, eh love?"

A quick glance, all he could afford. Like every experienced soldier's mind, Korbin's was now dedicated almost entirely to the task at hand, but the mind can play tricks. Images of comrades lost passed before his eyes, they tormented him, but they motivated him. Determined not to let their fate become that of his companions of this battle.

"Nox, once Waters gets her senses back -and see to it that that happens quickly- deal with Barabas' bloody magic. I'll hold the goons off for as long as I can."

The warlock acknowledged the order and the knight could return to his bloody business. A quick moment was all he had to inspect any wounds left from the altercation. His hand slided along his neck and it felt something warm, something that should not have been there. He held his hand in front of him- blood. "Never easy, is it?"

He had to ignore it for now- he had to return to his vampire-slaying task. But where were they all? Apparently- fighting a werewolf. Nothing could surprise him anymore. The only question was whose side was the beast on? Fortunately, as it rushed towards Barabas the answer to that question became evident, and it was in his favour. It was time to offer the vampire mage his undivided attention.

"Barabas!"

Once more, Korbin charged- this time to distract the magus while his companions weakened his magic defenses.

The Harper, sore now and damned tired, swore not entirely under his breath as the people he was there to protect yet agained turned their attention back to the creatures laying seige to the embassy.

"Why do I even bother? Gods above..." He huffed, bending to recover his lost blade. His wand he tossed aside, its magic expended in the escape from the main building.

He ran quickly to join his charges, blade at the ready, only to reach their sides as the knight, clearly the leader, yelled his challenge to the vampire patriarch. Breaking into an admittedly glorious charge that had the Harper shaking his head in frustration.

He turned, letting his blade fall, surprisingly cavalier about the potential danger and death all around them, brushing detrius from the sleeve of his fine long coat. "Is he always like this?" The Harper asked, running a hand in frustration through his choppy, dirty blond hair.

(OOC: Small retcon here, so it happens just before Korbin goes bansai.)

The Silver Dragon clove a vampire in two, his blade temporarily sticking in its ribs. Another took advantage of his momentary pause, but a hole appeared in its middle and spread outward, boiling the creature away into a thousand flakes of dust. Korbin coughed, averting his face until the dust cleared. Behind the disintegrated vampire stood a familiar--and at this point welcome--sight.

"Korbin," Celeste said, nodding grimly.

"Celeste," Korbin said.

"You've a bit of vampire on you," she noted, flicking dust from his shoulder.

"Happens." He whirled and took the hand off a lunging vampire. Two more stood between him and Barabas, who was readying a terrible spell. "Just have to get to--"

But of course Celeste could hear his thoughts, and acted accordingly. She uttered a shriek and a ball of blazing green energy flew from her hands, exploding into the vampires. Immediately, they began screaming, covered with green liquid that burned like fire, and fell away, clearing Korbin's path.

"Go save the day," Celeste said, leaning up on her toes to kiss Korbin on the cheek--an intimate, friendly gesture that had no romantic component to it. "I'll take care of the rest." She turned toward Shyra and Nox, light gleaming from her circlet.

The ambassador of Cormyr didn't need to be told twice, though he did thank (and equally curse) the fates for saddling him amongst so many amazing, powerful, and frustrating women. He charged, cutting a vampire aside and leaped at Barabas.

The vampire mage saw Korbin coming, and raised a hand toward him. A shimmering black shield appeared, sending Korbin's sword sparking across its surface. The two men stood locked in place, muscles straining.

"You're too late, human," Barabas said. "I might have spared you all--at least, most of you--but now you've angered me."

"Can't cast," Korbin said with a grunt of effort. "When I'm cutting you."

"No need," said the vampire. "I already cast all I need."

And he pointed over Korbin's shoulder, to where a swath of sheer blackness floated in the air between them and Vivienne, Meryl, Celeste, and the others. It looked faintly like a blade, though one far too large for anyone to handle, and its substance was absolute nothingness.

Korbin remembered this spell--recognized the description, at least. Meryl had told him about it, only once, when both had been a little drunk and comparing war stories. This in a battle with a very, very powerful archmage war wizard, who was very, VERY upset at having been outted as a Zhent spy.

The results were not pretty.

******

"Is that what I think it is?" Nox was saying as Meryl's vision swam back into focus.

Every inch of her hurt, but she wasn't dead--not yet. She thanked the gods above she'd got herself a set of mithril armor, because trying to move from her place on the ground in a suit of steel plate would have been monstrous.

Meryl, you have to get up, a voice said in her head. Now please.

Celeste was there, Meryl felt more than saw. After the last few months, she'd come to recognize the feel of Celeste using her power. And if Celeste was there, then things were getting bad indeed.

What is--oh gods. Meryl saw it--the vampire mage's spell, which would doom them all. "Shyra, Nox--get Vivienne and get out."

"I don't get it," Shyra said, as she was slowly coming to. "What is--"

Then the blade lashed at them. A Cormyrian guard attempted to block it like a conventional sword, and it cut through as though the man's shield, arm, and body as though they were mist. The guard crumpled to the ground, his body shriveling away into dust.

"Black blade of disaster!" Meryl shouted. She forced herself to her feet and drew up her sword, which blazed with energy. She cast a quick spell to counter the floating blade, but--as she'd expected--it stayed exactly where it was. "Everyone back!"

Nox and Shyra ran back, the still unconscious Vivienne in Nox's arms. Celeste covered their retreat, erecting some sort of barrier of force that kept the vampires at bay.

The black sword darted through the air at her, but she raised one hand toward it, and it froze in place. The air rippled around it, burning away at the strain of holding the blade.

What are you doing to it? Meryl asked. You can't be holding it in place!

I'm . . . feeding . . . it, Celeste said, her mental voice weakened. All my power . . . it's absorbing it . . . and it's sated . . . for the moment . . .

It was true. Celeste seemed to waver on her feet, as though the vitality was draining out of her as she kept the black sword locked in place.

Gods, Celeste--you can't--

Meryl started to rush toward the blade, intent on doing something to it, but she sensed more than heard something huge and furred step beside her. She whirled, blade raised, only to find a huge, sallivating werewolf perched beside her. She swung, but it was faster still, lashing out with its huge paw to strike her dead in the chest and launch her back against a crumbling wall.

No! Celeste shouted in her head. He's not our enemy!

"Well, that's a relief," Meryl said, coughing from where the beast had struck her in the middle. Can you call him off, so I can help you with the blade?

I can stop it, Celeste said mentally. Just--hurry and kill the wizard, so that it ends.

But--

I can stop it! Celeste fell to one knee now, panting as though she burned with pain. Please! Hurry!

Meryl nodded. The werewolf still stood there, leaning toward her--predatory--but she saw understanding in its eyes, albeit enraged understanding. It wanted to kill vampires, not--

Meryl thought there was something familiar about the werewolf--as though she had seen it before, but she couldn't remember now. She had definitely seen it before, but that vision was somehow gone.

Hurry! Celeste's mind wailed.

Meryl nodded to the werewolf. "Well, either you help me, or you attack me--either way, I've got a job to do."

And with that, she invoked a spell in her ring, and was briefly falling backward through the infinite reaches of space--

--And appeared right behind Barabas, flanking opposite Korbin, and lashed out with all of her strength and magic.

******

The Harper stood ready to aid, when he heard a buzzing voice--faint but direct--in his mind.

Hail . . . mysterious and . . . handsome stranger, said the voice. I need your help . . . if it's not too much to ask . . .

The Harper looked up, confused at the sudden voice.

I'm over here. The 90 pounds soaking wet blonde lass . . . ok, 105 pounds.

He looked, and saw the most radiant half-elven maiden he'd ever seen locked in a struggle of certain death with a black blade of disaster. (And he had seen a few half-elves in just that situation. He got around.)

If you wouldn't mind terribly . . . do you have any way to help me escape . . . when I inevitably let go and this thing comes at me?

Some minutes later, Tahl sat upon the cobblestones watching Adin’tel’s breathing steady and the shakes that had been present before slowly subside. This, she knew, was a blessing. Her tincture had worked it magic somehow, though she didn not understand the means, and Tahl swore that she would one day be going back to thank the Rashemi witch who had given her this particular vial.

If only to get more, that was.

The moon had somehow freed itself of the copse of dark cloud cover, and its light shone down on the slick cobblestones wet with the dew of that night’s condensation. But there Tahl sat, waiting for Adin’tel to come around, however long it took. Cold, a slight shiver running through her body now and then, she settled in beside him, keeping wary of the area around her - lest an unfortunate soul, enemy or no, wander into the square.

It wasn’t for another score of minutes that Adin’tel began to move. Immediately, Tahl moved with him, settling her left hand on his chest to let him know that someone was near. Leaning in, she cast a shadow over his face so that the starkness of the moonlight did not at first blind him.

Finally Adin’tel tentatively opened his eyes, at first squinting against the light. It seemed then that the momentary strength he had found gave in, and his eyes fluttered closed. He groaned. Tahl smiled at the sound, glad that he was at least - for the moment – showing good signs of recovery, and waited patiently for him to again open his eyes.

After a few seconds passed, Adin’tel drew a deep breath and tried again, his pupils dilating immediately at the halo of moonlight surrounding the square, now unobstructed by clouds. Adin’tel stared weakly then, uttering nothing, a confused expression coming over his features – a look that said he trusted not what his eyes were seeing.

“…S-Silk…?”

* * *

Tahl’s smile faded from her lips, like a northern breeze striping the warmth from the land beneath.

She stood and left – nay, fled - without knowing how or where she was headed. Hadn’t she been happy he was alive but a moment ago? She thought she should go back to him as she rounded the corner, chasing her feelings away from the square and leaving Adin’tel behind.

What Tahl didn’t know – couldn’t have known – was that the angle of the moon behind her head had provided a silver glow to her hair, and that this coupled with the shadow upon her face making her skin show shades darker than normal, had made her appear to be – in Adin’tel’s mind – to be in the likeness of his beloved Silk.

* * *

Adin’tel watched Silk leave the square, his own tortured plea escaping his lips before he had thought to hold it back, ”SILK!”

He began to stand, though his first try brought him back down to the cobblestones. He realized then how taxed of energy he had been from Barabas’ attack, and could only look on as Silk left.

Yet this time Silk didn’t have silver hair. Instead, Adin’tel watched as a copse of flowing ruby red hair turned the corner, and an understanding flooded through him. He looked down at the knapsack she had left behind, her vials, tinctures, and poisons lined within.

Tahl…

How much was he going to hurt this woman, and she him, before either of them left the face of this world?

Adin’tel slumped on the ground, holding her bag in a strained right hand, and his paining stomach in the left.

The man stood, dazed for a moment by the psionic words that in their rush were a touch too forceful, leaving his ears ringing with unheard booming. This is the trouble when dealing with heroes… He thought, cursing as he took quick stock of the situation. It never takes more than a moment for all hell to break loose…

He cast aside his blade, a hindrance now rather than any practical help, and leapt into a dead sprint towards Celeste, feeling the increase in the almost tangible hum of power than slowly filled the garden, winding slowly to an almost fever pitch as both Celeste and the Vampire patriarch fed more and more power into the spell that raged between them.

His superiors would never let the Harper hear then end of this, but there was no way to save her, and save her he must, without compromising their strict orders for discretion in so far as certain aspects of his mission were concerned. He figured, a wry grin splitting his slightly crooked features, that the woman’s life might go some ways as to mitigating their anger, however.

Past the Werewolf and his other charges he ran, pausing only for the briefest of moments as a vampire tried to block his path only to be thrown down in a surprising show of strength that thankfully nobody saw.

Celeste filled his vision, stole his whole focus. The world around him disappeared as he prepared himself, cleared his mind of all but the task at hand…

And leapt.

He caught her around the middle in a tackle that lacked finesse, turning as he caught her to put himself between her and the ground. Her focus broken but his actions, Celeste faltered and the blade swung forward with deadly intent, its malignant will thirsting for power and blood, only to strike nothing!

His eyes filled with the colour of molten steel as the Harper had taken to the air. As he caught Celeste around the middle he deafened her with words in a language unknown to her that caused such pressure in her ears it drowned out all other sounds with pain, and the pair vanished in a flash of silver light, landing in a heap nearly a dozen feet away, completing the fall they had started before his spell.

“A close call, fair lady…” He Harper coughed, propping himself up on his elbows beneath her damp weight. “You and your friends are really making a hash of my nights work, I hope you know.”

She looked up and caught her first good look of the man, Decent looking features that were more striking than handsome beneath a passably styled mop of dirty blond hair.

“Kalien Rex, Harper, at your service.” He said simply, grinning broadly.

*

Adin’tel felt as if a weight were placed firmly on his chest, even as the magic that coursed through his veins re-knit his bones and strung flesh back together. The vampires spell had all but destroyed him and in his ignorance and confusion he had attempted the same of Tahl.

He rolled, still clutching her bag, and tentatively pushed himself back to his feet. His muscles screamed protest at the action but he had no choice. A battle still raged somewhere in the city. Before that though, he needed to find his companion, his partner, and make things right with her. He knew it was selfish of him to ask it of her, but there was work for him that he could not avoid… and without her Adin’tel felt certain it would be the death of him. His geas allowed him at least that much insight.

So he took his first staggering steps after her into the darkness, clutching her bag as if it were a totem, calling out her name weakly, in a vain hope that she would hear him and turn to answer.

See OOC Before Reading

Meryl nodded to the werewolf. "Well, either you help me, or you attack me--either way, I've got a job to do."

With a twist of her finger she vanished. The wolf didn’t hesitate in his decision. Shyra was safely out of the way, at least for now, so all that was left to do was deal with the main threat in any way possible.

His claws dug into the limestone wall of the embassy like a pick into ice and he pulled himself up, defying the embrace of gravity. With precision Wulf left one hand dig into the wall and slung the rest of his body up in one fluid movement around the clawed pivot. Releasing his grip he ran along the wall, tensed, and launched himself over the blade of destruction.

Falling through the air he saw Meryl appear and attack Barabas with an onslaught that would have left most in a gruesome heap. Deftly his feet hit the ground and the druid absorbed the shock of landing with his powerful quad muscles. Gripping the ground like he had gripped the wall he used the traction to throw himself full bodied into Barabas’s back. With a grunt the werewolf ricocheted off the vampire’s shield.

Slightly dazed, Wulf renewed the attack with a more tactical approach. The canine was impatient for the dusty ash of corroding undead in his mouth. Claws and teeth screeched down the murky black shield like nails down chalkboard, sending rippling shivers all through the druid’s body. Howling his frustration, he stepped back and took a few moments to think as Korbin and Meryl wreaked havoc with Barabas’s casting abilities.

Barabas was now under attack from three sides, and with his blade of destruction sweeping through the ranks of vampires, he was very much alone. Yet, this was a feeling he was used to.

Wulf’s pupils dilated in the darkness as a plan hatched in his mind. Gingerly he extended a single claw and ran it across the surface of the barrier. For a single moment his claw gripped onto a flaw in the surface. A smile exposed his wickedly sharp teeth and he drew away from the fight. A whirlwind swept up around the werewolf and he vanished into thin air.

*

Shyra screamed as the blade of destruction rushed toward them. With Celeste out of the way Nox, V and the young druid were completely open to its destructive power. Their only hope was that the spell only extended as far as Barabas could see. They had made a lot of ground away from the spell, but were still meters from the safety of the side gate of the compound.

*
In the gaseous form of an air elemental Wulf swept around the shield like the wail of banshee. The druid caressed the barrier, feeling for flaws, probing for failings. He passed over where he had previously attacked and found only minor claw marks. Meryl’s portion was much more damaged, but over a broad area.

Sweeping around to the purple dragon’s side he found what he was looking for; a single point of attack. Wulf quickly flicked aside as Korbin landed another blow in precisely the same point as his first attack, slicing the shield open a little bit more.

This is going to take some bloody good timing old dog.
Making a mental note, the druid vowed never fight hand to hand with the incredible human and backed off.

With the location of the hole secured in his mind Wulf waited for Korbin to complete a combo of attacks. As soon as he stopped, Meryl unleashed another onslaught as if she knew precisely when Korbin would stop. Using the moment to his advantage Wulf rushed past Korbin, tearing at his hair and clothes. Slipping through the shield's point of weakness Wulf lowered himself to the ground.

As soon as Wulf entered he had regrets. He was now trapped between an ancient beast’s teeth and its shield. Feeling suddenly mortal he was almost overcome by fear. A single thought of his daughter was all it took for him to move past his fears and force himself onward. With concrete will he focused his insubstantial body to do as he must.

Gently he placed rings of air around Barabas’s wrists. It was not enough to restrain him in the slightest. Flowing with the vampire’s movements as best as he could, Wulf tried to stay unnoticed as he brought more of his air into play.

Forming a crescent of air over the side of Barabas’s right shoulder and neck, the druid forced his body to regain the shape of a wolf. With a flash of green light the crescent and wrist shackles solidified into flesh, fur, claws and teeth. Barabas’s eyes snapped wide and he hissed his anger and surprise as the gaseous body reacted to the druid within. With grim satisfaction Wulf bit down and tasted what he has been yearning for, the dusty flavour of his daughter’s safety.

With the main body of vampires swept aside by the destructive powers of the group, Nox felt his fears subside a small amount. Shyra was by his side, with an unconscious Vivienne in her arms. Nox stalked around them, making sure nothing got too close. Unfortunately for him, there was little he could do about the black mass of magic cutting its way towards them.

Nox blanched and turned to Meryl, “Is that what I think it is?”

She grimaced and uttered the words Nox was dreading.

Together, with Vivienne now in his arms, Nox and Shyra backpedalled from the black blade of disaster. Nox could feel its power behind him, steadily growing stronger as it gained on them. Nox tossed Vivienne onto one shoulder in a more conventional—albeit more painful for her—method of carrying her weight, and grasped Shyra’s hand with his free arm.

As the blade drew closer to their fleeing backs, a sense of hopelessness enveloped the couple, a shroud of sheer depression. Then, just as suddenly as the sword had come up on them, Nox felt its power fading away. Not diminishing, simply falling behind. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw Celeste down on one knee with a serene expression on her face as she fed the blade her power.

The sword seemed to shudder with pleasure at the intake of energy, and while the hunger inherit to the blade was sated, Celeste was no ocean of power herself. She seemed to grow tired and more weary by the second, dropping to two knees, and then onto all fours. Nox doubted her power could hold much longer, but feared to move in case he drew its attention.

The gate to the compound was close, and if he gave Vivienne to Shyra...

Nox looked momentarily back at the half-elf psion and saw a strange figure beside her he had never met before. Making up his mind, Nox passed Vivienne over to Shyra, an idea forming in his mind. “Get Vivienne out of the courtyard, I’ll be right behind you.” Shyra nodded, steeled herself, and sprinted for the gate.

It was not a moment too soon, for when Nox looked back towards the black blade, it was coming straight at them, Celeste and the stranger nowhere to be seen. However, Nox had no intention of following Shyra out of the courtyard. He ran opposite them, giving the blade two directions to go, and of course, it chose Shyra’s.

Oh no you don’t, thought Nox, finally understanding the reasoning behind the sword.

Nox flexed his will and fired his body up with eldritch energy, glowing like a miniature sun with red and purple light. Energy writhed around his body like a cocoon and it achieved the reaction he had hoped for. The blade turned ninety degrees towards this new source of power and Nox breathed a sigh of relief knowing Shyra was safe.

With typical fashion though, he had forgotten to plan any farther than distracting the weapon. Nox turned on his heel and began to run right as a large wolf-like form materialized in Barabas’s sphere of power.

Before Dale Reckoning, Barabas had already been ancient. Before Netheril fell, he had been old. He, who had wielded the powers of the arcanists, had ever been among the most powerful forces that could be brought to bear in defense of this--his adopted city.

Now, however, his physical body was just taking too much punishment to withstand.

He hadn't expected this much resistance. Under Korbin's sword and Meryl's magic, he lost focus on his spells and fought merely by instinct. Damnably frustrating these mortals were, and stopping him from the unfinished business he'd let linger too long. Enough of this: the time had come to escape.

Unfortunately, when he'd been relying upon his gaseous form to escape, he hadn't expected a vengeful druid who could take the form of an air elemental.

Now, trapped, unable to flee, Barabas began to know real fear--fear for his own life, or, more accurately, UN-life. And with that fear came desperation. He hadn't expected to retreat through any other means, and hadn't come prepared for such an eventuality. He would just have to play his last--and worst--card.

He cast a spell with a flick of his fingers, and the wards shivered around the war wizard woman--one in particular he targeted, which vanished almost without protest. It was such a minor protection, she hardly seemed to notice.

Korbin's blade sliced in, and Barabas felt the stirring of the powerful necromantic magic he had poured into his contingency ward. He parried the blow with his black sword, only to feel Meryl's radiance-charged blade enter his back . . .

The magic soared, and he knew no more.

*****

The vampire staggered when Meryl stabbed him, and a flare of black energy surged from the wound to coat the war wizard. She fell back, gasping and choking as though the spell had ripped the air from her lungs. Korbin lurched forward to catch her, but she shook her head, pointing at the vampire with her sword.

Barabas had fallen to his knees, still trying to fend off the werewolf ripping it to pieces. He looked up at Korbin with wide, pain-filled eyes. The chapped black lips parted to speak--

--and Korbin swept Barabas's head from his shoulders with a last slash of his great icy sword.

The head tumbled across the courtyard, moldering like an ancient corpse suddenly exposed to the air. The decapitated body slumped to the ground, unmoving, and withered into a skeleton, and thence to dust, in a matter of moments.

Across the courtyard, the black blade streaking toward Nox abruptly shattered into a thousand specks of darkness that boiled away into the night. As it had been about to plunge into his chest and wipe him from existence, he breathed a relieved sigh.

All around the courtyard, the surviving vampires wailed and rushed off, their leader vanquished.

Meryl, who had collapsed under the weight of the vampire's spell, tried to rise, coughed, and fell again. She shuddered spasmodically on the ground.

"Aari--Aari'el . . ." she managed.