From his vantage point amidst the chaos Abdel couldn't gauge the ebb and flow of war. He had no idea which side was winning, and he didn't care. It was all moot anyway. The dragon that he had glimpsed before being snatched away into the Abyss would destroy Saradush—it would destroy both armies, and it would destroy Jaheira and Imoen if Abdel couldn't save them.

  First he had to find them.

  He glanced down at what remained of Yaga Shura's axe, then turned his attention elsewhere. He had no need of the enchanted weapon to hack his way through the wall of mortal soldiers between him and the women he loved, and Abdel was a swordsman, not a woodcutter. Fortunately, swords were in great supply at this point in the battle.

  He snatched a heavy, broad blade from the hand of one of the fallen, ignoring the feeble protests from the clutching corpse too stupid to know it was already dead.

  Abdel struck without thought, savagely hacking down anyone in range in his mad attempt to simply thin the throng surrounding him. He ignored the counterattacks directed at his own unarmored body. His mind blocked out the pain, and his immortal spirit absorbed the countless blows and healed his wounds. The small corner of Abdel's mind not obsessed with mowing down the hapless men between himself and his missing companions noted that his healing powers were stronger than ever—many of the wounds closed so fast Abdel didn't even to start to bleed.

  Nevertheless, he was soon covered in sticky crimson fluid and warm gore from head to toe. The blood of his opponents matted his hair and soaked into his clothes. The cloying scent clung to his nostrils, and he could taste the coppery tang on his tongue. Rubbing the back of his blood-soaked hand across his eyes couldn't clear the crimson veil from his vision.

  And through it all, the essence of Bhaal within Abdel stayed calm. He did not revel in the massacre of friend and foe alike, this was not death to be savored. This was slaughter with a single cold purpose: Find Jaheira and Imoen before the dragon turned its attention to the battlefield.

  The impossibility of Abdel's task never entered his mind. He ignored the facts—thousands of combatants milling about over an area expansive in size—and allowed himself to believe he would somehow stumble across his lover and his sister.

  Through the confusion of bodies Abdel occasionally saw distant visions of death and destruction raining down on the city of Saradush. A single flick of a great scaled tail toppled the spires of a noble's mansion. A blast of deadly fire from the sky incinerated entire city blocks. A gigantic reptilian beast descended on leatherlike wings to rend and devour a dozen unfortunate victims fleeing through the streets. The glimpses of the great wyrm ravaging Saradush merely spurred Abdel ever onward in his hopeless search.

  Then he heard his name, screamed with primal, animal rage over the cacophony of the conflict.

  "Abdel!"

  He turned toward the desperate, crazed cry and saw a single disheveled figure on horseback bearing down on him. The man looked more beast than human, hunched over the saddle of his wild-eyed mount, his tangled, greasy mane streaming out behind him as he rode, a single hairy arm brandishing a heavy spear high above his head.

  Abdel, despite his best efforts, had been unable to locate either Jaheira or Imoen. But somehow Gromnir, the mad general of the Calimshan forces, had managed to find him.

  "Abdel!" Gromnir bellowed, "We meet again! Good fun. Hah!"

  The horse bore down on him, but Abdel held his ground. At the last second he stepped forward, ducking under Gromnir's thrusting spear and wrapping his muscular arm around the steed's thick neck. Abdel braced himself, but was still thrown backward by the impact of the charging beast and sent hurtling through the air. The pop of Abdel's shoulder dislocating was lost beneath the thunderous crack of a dozen bones in the horse's neck snapping like dry kindling.

  By the time Abdel was back on his feet, his shoulder had already slipped back into place, with no ill effects. Gromnir was not so fortunate. He might have been a Child of Bhaal, but like Imoen and most of the others he lacked the superhuman regenerative powers of Abdel or Yaga Shura.

  The general was crawling weakly out from beneath the convulsing body of his horse, pulling himself forward with only his hands. Abdel could see Gromnir's pelvis had been smashed in the fall. Already a dark stain was seeping up over the belt and from beneath the chainmail leggings that covered Gromnir's body below the waist.

  "Abdel," the crippled, twisted man croaked. "Abdel betrayed Gromnir. Ha-ha! Gromnir fell for Abdel's trap."

  He could have turned his back on the helpless man and simply resumed his search to find Jaheira and Imoen. But something within Abdel couldn't endure the unfounded allegations the Calimshite general had leveled at him.

  "I am no traitor, Gromnir," he said in an even voice.

  "Hah! Good fun, Abdel. Joking while Gromnir dies! Ha-ha!"

  Abdel shook his head. "You're crazy."

  "Crazy? Gromnir and his men rode into an ambush! Hah! A thousand cavalry troops hidden behind the hills, reinforcements to smash Gromnir's army!" The dying man's words frothed up on his lips as he spit them out. The spray was tinged pink from the blood welling up from his gut wounds.

  "They knew Gromnir was coming out from behind his walls! Ha ha! And the dragon ... it knew, too. Watching and waiting for Gromnir to take the bait! Abdel's plan worked! Ha! Saradush was left defenseless!"

  "It wasn't my plan," Abdel protested, but his arguments went unheard as a spasm of choking coughs wracked Gromnir's broken body.

  "The druid and the girl," Gromnir continued, his voice growing softer with every word, "they knew. They fled back to the city, they did not walk into the trap. Ha!"

  Another series of coughs shook Gromnir and then his body lay still. Abdel didn't stay there to witness his death. The big sellsword was already charging through the mass of combatants again, carving his way directly toward the city—or what was still standing beneath the dragon's wrath.

  As he traversed the battlefield, Abdel cursed his own stupidity. Of course Jaheira and Imoen were in the city! Gromnir had thought they fled the battle, but the general's mind was limited by his own instincts for self-preservation. Abdel knew the real explanation.

  He could clearly imagine the scene. He saw the women he loved herding the civilians to safety, trying to help them find some shelter, some refuge from the terrible monster ravaging their town. Jaheira and Imoen were, as usual, risking their own lives to save the innocent and helpless.

  Now that he had a goal, Abdel made quick progress. He had reached the still-open gates of Saradush and was rushing down the rubble-filled streets, ignoring the flame engulfed buildings on either side of him. The city was choked with a thick veil of smoke, forcing Abdel to hunch his seven-foot frame nearly in half to stay beneath the acrid clouds.

  He knew Jaheira and Imoen would be where the destruction was the greatest—all he had to do was find the dragon, and he would find his friends.

  Finding the dragon was easy. He just ran toward the screams. He was still several blocks away when he saw the enormous beast rampaging through the street, reducing buildings to dust and slaughtering every living thing that came within reach of its claws, jaws, or tail. As with all dragons, this specimen was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. As he approached, Abdel realized this dragon was but a youth, barely even full grown. Its scales were smooth and unmarked by the scars of great battles yet to come. Its hide was still a bright, shiny red. As it aged, its coloration would darken and deepen. If the creature was as inexperienced in tactics and combat as its immaturity would suggest, Abdel might have a hope of defeating it.

  At the far end of the block Abdel caught a glimpse of half a dozen figures huddling in the ground level of a burned-out hull of a building whose upper reaches had already been destroyed by dragon fire. Even at this distance, Abdel recognized the silhouetted outline of Jaheira through the haze and the smaller form of Imoen beside her. Imoen's arms moved in the intricate patterns Abdel had seen mages and wizards use when performing an enchantment, and through the darkness Abdel could clearly see a parchment scroll with glowing symbols at her feet. A second later the entire group vanished from sight.

  Momentarily stunned, it took Abdel a second to realize they were still there, their presence cloaked by a spell of invisibility. However, he didn't have time to wonder at Imoen's previously unrevealed magical talents as the dragon's attention was now even more focused on the small structure in which the group had sought shelter.

  Slowly, as if savoring the coming slaughter, the dragon began to march along the street toward the invisible Imoen and those she would protect. A deep mocking laugh rolled out from the monster's throat, rising above the deafening crackle of flames and the screams of the other townsfolk fleeing in terror at its approach.

  Abdel never hesitated in his charge, never even slowed his stride—though part of his mind was screaming at him to turn and run. The beast could rip him apart with one swipe of its massive talons or reduce him to a pile of ash and charcoal with a blast of fire so hot it would cause great chunks of the stone walls fortifying the city to melt.

  Abdel knew his own instantaneous healing couldn't save him from death in the face of such traumatic, grievous injury, though it might have appeared that way to the soldiers ineffectually hacking at him back on the field of battle. Abdel knew he wasn't immortal.

  It was more than just the knowledge of his own mortality that made a section of Abdel's mind cower in terror. Despite its obvious youth, the great red wyrm dwarfed the humans and halflings scurrying before it. It spread its enormous wings to span the breadth of the entire street, casually batting the tiny figures who stumbled too close to the leathery appendages, leaving the victims in crumpled, unconscious heaps.

  Though large enough to carry off a pair of owlbears in its claws, the awesome spectacle of the dragon's presence was the result of more than just sheer size. Its young scales gleamed with an inner brilliance, each as beautiful and bright as a priceless ruby. Yet they were woven together so tightly they seemed to form an impenetrable coat of armor over the beast's back. From the tips of its razor-sharp teeth to the ends of its serpentine tail thirty feet away, the creature exuded glorious power. There was a majesty about dragons, even young ones, that transcended even their own incomprehensible physical presence: a physical aura of grandeur, magnificence, and pure malevolence that made Abdel want to throw himself to the ground and tremble in fear. Dragonfear, the sages called it.

  Ignoring the corner of his consciousness that begged him to hurl his puny sword to the street and flee in terror, Abdel moved within striking distance. Too lucky or too insignificant to have even been noticed by his gargantuan foe, Abdel rushed in unseen and slashed at the dragon's hind leg just above the heel. Most weapons would merely bounce harmlessly off the beast's scales, but Abdel's sword was propelled by a strength unequalled by any other mortal.

  A geyser of steaming blood erupted from the wound, though Abdel's weapon was shattered by the impact. The dragon howled in pain, kicking out with its wounded leg and twisting its head around on its long, sinuous neck to snap at the unseen enemy.

  Abdel leaped back, avoiding both the kicking leg and the lethal jaws even as he ducked beneath the wing that swept over his head. He didn't avoid the heavy tail whipping around to slam into him from behind. It hurled Abdel through the air into one of the few stone walls still standing on the street. The wall disintegrated when Abdel smashed face first into it, breaking his ribs, cracking the vertebrae in his neck, shattering every bone in his face, and rupturing several internal organs.

  It took Abdel nearly ten seconds to recover enough from the horrendous injuries to stand on his feet again. Luckily, the inexperienced dragon hadn't bothered to finish him off. Assuming the hero had been pulverized by its lashing tail, the creature returned its attention to the building where Imoen, Jaheira, and the others had sought shelter before being cloaked with the spell of invisibility.

  Raising up onto its hind legs the beast let loose with a roar that shook the ground. The reverberating echo of the battle cry drowned out all other sound. Abdel couldn't even hear his own scream as the beast slammed its entire body down on the building's roof, collapsing the entire structure in a roiling cloud of dust that quickly mingled with the heavy smoke hanging like a curtain in the air.

  Nothing inside the mashed building larger than a roach could have survived the destruction.

  Abdel howled to the blackened sky in grief over his lover's certain death.

  "Jaheira!"

  Abdel's eyes welled up as he ran his hand across the mix of blood and dirt on bis face. He took in a great deep breath to give voice to his rage and sorrow once again when he abruptly stopped. Abdel noticed footsteps in the dirt and soot that covered the city streets. Footsteps leading away from the building, churning up tiny puffs of dust as they scampered away. From the number of footprints left behind and the amount of broiling dust in their wake, Abdel guessed there were maybe half a dozen people on the run. He couldn't see them. Whatever spell had caused Imoen, Jaheira and the others to vanish from sight when Abdel had first noticed them huddled inside the threshold of the now-destroyed doorway was still keeping them hidden from view. Imoen and Jaheira were alive. Abdel released his breath, and his anguished cries became relieved laughter.

  As the dragon turned back toward the big sellsword, Abdel's laughing stopped. The wyrm tilted its head back slightly and took a deep breath. As the beast inhaled, its enormous chest expanded ever farther, and Abdel realized it was gathering itself to unleash a blast of fire that would incinerate him where he stood.

  The big man spun on his heel and ran. Behind him, Abdel heard a deep rumble and a sizzling hiss. He dived for the cover of an open doorway, hurtling himself through the air even as the wall of flames swept down the street, engulfing everything in its path.

  Had the full brunt of the dragon's attack struck Abdel, he would have died instantly, his blood evaporating, his skin melting, and his bones turning to charred ash. But the youthful beast's own impatience saved Abdel. The dragon had tipped its hand too soon, allowing his foe's hasty retreat to bring him to the farthest edge of the wyrm's fiery breath. Abdel made a desperate leap for cover, and instead of instant, merciful annihilation he felt an unbearable burning pain reserved solely for the living.

  His clothes and hair ignited, the skin on his back, neck and shoulders blistered instantly in the intense heat. He clenched his eyes against the sizzling cocoon of fire momentarily enveloping him. His nasal passages, throat and lungs were scorched as he breathed in sulfurous air and stinging smoke.

  The agony of being burned alive momentarily sent his body into shock causing Abdel to black out. The blaze swept over his unconscious form. Recovering consciousness, he found himself in the now-blackened doorway, the last flickers of the dragon's breath still burning around him. He tried to leap to his feet, only to find his limbs would not obey. He lay still for several seconds, waiting for his otherworldly regenerative abilities to kick in, but when he tried to stand he found his injuries hadn't healed.

  Fire. Many times Abdel had felt the internal blaze of Bhaal's fury and bloodlust, but those were flames of the spirit and the soul. In the real world, Abdel had never been seriously burned in his life—not before he had become an avatar of a dead god, and not after. He had just assumed he could recover from horrible burns as easily as he recovered from slashes, cuts, and other physical injuries. Now, as he lay helpless beneath a sticky blanket of his own melted clothes and the oozing wounds from his cracked, blistered back Abdel understood this was not the case.

  Mustering all his strength, the crippled warrior managed to crawl around to peek out from the doorway that had saved his life. He had to see why the dragon hadn't finished him yet. He had to see if Jaheira and Imoen had escaped. With great effort he lifted up his head, and the answers to both his questions were revealed.

  The dragon was under attack. Two gigantic tigers threw themselves on the creature's back, ripping and tearing at its scaled hide. Leaping clear as the dragon lashed out at them with its wings and tail, the two great cats roared and pounced again as soon as another opening presented itself. From the blue nimbus surrounding their powerful feline forms, Abdel knew the beasts had been summoned by Jaheira. The druid must have called on Mielikki for aid, and in answer the forest god had sent the striped cats to protect her servant. Their coordinated assault confused the young dragon, harrying it incessantly and preventing the wyrm from concentrating its attacks effectively on either foe.

  Jaheira herself stood just beyond the edge of the melee. The incantation she had used to call the striped defenders to her side had destroyed the invisibility that had previously kept her hidden from view. She was ministering to a third tiger that lay broken and bleeding in the middle of the street. Though pain clouded his vision, Abdel could see the half-elf was weeping at the dying tiger's suffering.

  The dragon flailed around recklessly with its claws and snapping jaws, desperately trying to unseat its two surviving foes from their perch atop its back. But the tigers were quick and cunning, and they continued to savage the monster's hide—though their razor claws were unable to pierce the dragon's scales.

  Abdel tried again to stand and failed. He tried to drag himself forward, willing his crippled form to crawl to Jaheira's aid. The exertion forced him to draw ragged, rasping breaths with his seared and damaged lungs. The acrid smoke still lingering in the air crawled down his throat, wracking his charred body with choking coughs. In the end his muscles betrayed him. The avatar of Bhaal was as weak and helpless as a newborn child. Barely able to even raise his head, it took all his strength just to watch the battle and pray Jaheira survived.