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 his 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 rim. 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.

  From far away, Abdel heard a fierce war cry he recognized from the battle atop the Saradush battlements. Melissan was coming to join them. The dragon heard her too and turned to unleash another fiery blast against this new enemy. Melissan seemed oblivious to the horrible fate that was about to engulf her and rushed headlong through the ruined city street to challenge the wyrm, the head of her mace whistling through the air in deadly circles.

  The flames swallowed her, and Abdel’s own wounds cried out in sympathetic protest. When the wall of fire had passed, Melissan stood unharmed, though the force of the dragon’s breath had stopped her charge.

  Puzzled by Melissan’s unexpected survival, the young dragon allowed its attention to be distracted long enough for Jaheira to leap into the fray. The staff she normally carried in her hands was gone, replaced by a magically conjured scimitar of cold blue fire. She brought the enchanted blade down on the unsuspecting dragon’s tail, slicing deep into the wyrm’s flesh. Cold steam burst from the wound, and the dragon bellowed in shock and anger.

  Still ignoring the tigers futilely clinging to its great back, the beast spun toward Jaheira. In her haste to duck clear of the dragon’s snapping jaws, the druid’s foot snagged on a jagged piece of debris from one of the street’s many demolished buildings and the half-elf fell to the ground. She tried to roll clear, but the dragon was too quick, pinning her to the ground with a taloned foot.

  In response to Jaheira’s tormented shrieks, Abdel tried again to stand. Through sheer force of will he managed to get to his feet, but when he took a step toward his screaming lover he collapsed back to the ground, too weak to even cry out in grief or frustration.

  Somehow, he managed to lift his head again. His vision had become a narrow tunnel of light, and darkness was closing in from all sides. Abdel knew he was on the verge of blacking out again. The world was fading. He could see Jaheira’s body writhing beneath the dragon’s claw, but he could no longer hear her cries.

  Melissan stepped into his rapidly shrinking field of vision, her mace now jammed inside her belt. Her empty hands were engulfed in a white ball of energy that she hurled at the dragon. The spell struck between the monster’s winged shoulders, and it screamed. Few beings had ever heard a dragon’s scream, but any who survived the siege of Saradush would remember the awful sound in their nightmares forever.

  The few buildings on the street still standing were toppled by the concussive force of the wyrm’s keening cry. The tigers still atop the creature’s back fell to the ground twitching, stunned by the wave of sound. Paralyzed by his injuries, Abdel could not bring his hands up to shield his ears against the horrific noise. His eardrums burst, exploding in a burst of blood that trickled from his ears down the sides of his cheeks.

  Yet Melissan seemed unaffected. Already, she had gathered another ball of the glowing energy and hurled it at the dragon. The beast screamed again. Deafened by the first cry, Abdel could not hear this one. Even so he felt the vibrations rippling through the ground.

  Abdel struggled to hold back the curtain of darkness, refusing to succumb to the blackness while the battle still raged less than thirty feet away. Unwilling to endure another assault from Melissan, the beast flapped its wings and rose from the ruined streets of Saradush, still clutching the feebly struggling body of Jaheira in its claws. The last image Abdel saw before unconsciousness took him was his lover being carried off by the young dragon.

  Abdel drew a slow, shuddering breath as consciousness returned. Too weak to open his eyes, he was still able to sense he was indoors now. Someone had moved him from where he collapsed in the street. By the faint sting of smoke and ash he could taste on his tongue he guessed he was still somewhere in the burning city of Saradush.

  He took another deep breath. A cool mist spread down into his chest, the moist cloud soothing his scarred throat and lungs. His hearing, destroyed by the dragon’s battle cry, had returned enough for him to detect the monotonous droning of a religious chant echoing from far above.

  Struggling against his own weariness, he opened his eyes and found himself lying naked on a cold stone floor, staring up at a high arched ceiling. The walls and roof were adorned with elaborately painted images of men and women suffering from disease, injury, and torture—though their expressions showed not torment, but relief. Common to each scene was the figure of a cowled man, his sympathetic face stained with tears. Abdel recognized the portrait of Ilmater, the crying god.

  It was then that he realized he felt no pain, even though he was lying on his horribly burned back. Unsure if his natural healing abilities had finally kicked in or if there was another explanation, he forced himself to sit up. The effort blinded him, as stars momentarily filled his vision.

  “Thank Ilmater you’re alive!” Melissan’s voice exclaimed through the glittering tapestry.

  Abdel heard the sound of scampering feet and a second later felt the familiar embrace of Imoen as she wrapped her thin arms around Abdel’s massive neck. “Abdel,” she cried, pressing herself against his obviously completely healed back, “I thought I’d lost you.”

  As he wrapped his massive arms around his half-sister and hugged her back, the stars in his vision began to vanish. Abdel found himself surrounded by not only Imoen and Melissan but by several robed figures anxiously studying his every movement. No doubt it had been these priests of Ilmater who had saved him from his injuries.

  There was little time to waste on thanks. “Jaheira?” he asked hesitantly, looking directly at Melissan. The tall woman turned away.

  Imoen released her grip and withdrew from Abdel, her face heavy with grief. “The dragon took her,” she said softly.

  Abdel gently pushed Imoen away and rose slowly to his feet. Seeing something in his eyes, the robed figures took several steps back from the warrior who now towered over them, clad only in the charred remnants of his clothes. Melissan held her ground.

  “I am truly sorry, Abdel,” she said.

  Launching himself at her, Abdel managed to wrap his hand around her throat before anyone else had a chance to react. With his hands squeezing ever tighter he lifted her off the ground, her heels kicking feebly in the air. The priests of Ilmater reacted with horrified gasps but made no move to intercede on Melissan’s behalf.

  “Abdel!” Imoen screamed, leaping on his back and futilely trying to pry his hands from Melissan’s neck. “Abdel, it’s not her fault! There was nothing we could do.”

  Melissan clutched feebly at Abdel’s massive arms, her eyes bulging as she gasped for air.

  “She betrayed us!” Abdel roared. “She lied to us about the Five! She wants us all to die!”

  “No!” Imoen shrieked, now pounding on her invincible half-brother’s back with her tiny fists. “Melissan drove off the dragon! She found you and brought you to this temple. If she wanted to kill us why did she save us?”

  No longer so certain of Melissan’s treachery, Abdel’s grip loosened. He lowered the tall woman until her feet were on the floor and let go of her neck, giving her a disdainful shove that sent her reeling back into the surrounding priests of Ilmater, who caught her as she stumbled.

  Imoen dropped from Abdel’s back and rushed over to see if Melissan was all right. Assured her new friend would survive, the young woman shot a harshly disapproving glance back at Abdel.

  “What were you thinking, Abdel? Have you gone mad?”

  Abdel didn’t answer but merely swore and spat on the hallowed floor of the church as he turned away from them.

  With Imoen’s help, Melissan managed to stand. Her long, delicate fingers massaged her neck beneath the high, dark collar that reached up to just beneath her chin. Her throat was bruised beneath the fabric of her collar by Abdel’s savage and unwarranted assault, but when she spoke, there was no hint of Imoen’s anger in Melissan’s voice.

  “Your brother has lost someone he loved,” she said softly, her abused throat making her voice rough and rasping. “He has a right to be upset.”

  “Not like this,” Imoen protested, a protective arm around the taller woman’s shoulders as her eyes shot daggers at Abdel’s back. “After everything you’ve done for us, he has no right to treat you this way.”

  The big man spun on his heel to face the two women. The ring of cowled priests slipped silently away, leaving the trio of interlopers alone to solve their disputes.

  “She set us up, Imoen,” Abdel declared. “She led us right into a trap.”

  Imoen started to protest, but Melissan raised her hand to hush the young girl.

  “I will not deny Gromnir’s army was ambushed,” the tall woman said softly, her voice now closer to its normal tone. “But I assure you, I had nothing at all to do with the betrayal.”

  “Who then?” Abdel demanded.

  Melissan shook her head. “Regrettably I cannot say. There were many Bhaalspawn gathered in Saradush seeking shelter from Yaga Shura’s army. Perhaps one of them sought to trade his own life for the lives of all his kin.”

  Despite his best efforts, Abdel felt his anger fading. He had accused Melissan based on his own assumptions. They were assumptions based on the dying accusations of the mad General Gromnir. Forced to look at the facts, he couldn’t find any evidence Melissan was the one responsible for the ambush. In fact, Melissan had saved Abdel’s life—at least according to Imoen.

  Looking into his half-sister’s eyes, Abdel realized she was infatuated with the powerful, beautiful woman. Abdel had seen that look in her eyes before, but in the past it had always been when she looked at him. Melissan was Imoen’s savior, and apparently she had supplanted Abdel in his role as the young woman’s hero.

  Abdel himself wasn’t so awestruck.

  “You haven’t been completely honest with me,” he said, remembering the parting words of the mysterious being in the Abyssal plane. “You know more about the Five than you have told me.”

  Before Imoen could leap to her new idol’s defense, Melissan spoke. “It is true, Abdel. I have not been completely honest with you. But you must understand I could not trust you until you had proved yourself by defeating Yaga Shura.”

  “Yet you expect me to trust you.”

  Melissan sighed. “Abdel, my work is difficult. I seek to save the offspring of an evil, treacherous deity from their own kin. I must constantly be on guard against betrayal from my own allies. You know many of your kin are not to be trusted.”

  Reluctantly, Abdel nodded. He could not deny the truth of her words, just as he could not deny his own tainted heritage.

  “Many years ago I approached Sarevok and told him everything I knew about the Five and their purpose,” Melissan continued. “He used that information for himself and nearly started a war in his mad efforts to supplant the Five as the one who would resurrect your dark father. I have learned from such mistakes to guard my secrets well, Abdel Adrian.”

  “And look at what happened with Gromnir,” Imoen chimed in. “The people here in Saradush offered him sanctuary, and he took over their town. No wonder Melissan was reluctant to tell us everything. You can’t blame her.”

  “Where is Sarevok now?” Abdel asked, suddenly aware of his half-brother’s absence.

  With a shrug, Melissan replied, “He rode by my side when we charged from the gate, but we were separated during the chaos of battle. He has not returned. Perhaps he is one of the thousands who lie dead on the battlefield. Perhaps he was slain by the army that ravaged Saradush and only fled when they saw the dragon take to the sky.”

  “I doubt these soldiers would have been capable of ending my half-brother’s existence,” Abdel muttered.

  “Maybe he was the traitor,” Imoen offered. “It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to destroy a city.”

  “Perhaps,” Melissan admitted, though she did not seem convinced. “Sarevok was aware of our battle plan. He could have somehow arranged the ambush. When I first met Sarevok, he was easily capable of such treachery.

  “But I sensed something different about him now,” the tall woman continued. “Sarevok has changed since I first met him. Do you believe he is still capable of such evil?”

  “I… I don’t know,” Imoen admitted, “I guess not. But I didn’t really know him before.”

  She turned to her brother. “What do you think, Abdel? Did Sarevok betray us?”

  Abdel considered his answer for a long time. Sarevok had murdered Gorion and Khalid. He had nearly killed Jaheira, and he had done it all without conscience. But that was long ago. Like Melissan, Abdel sensed something fundamentally altered in the Sarevok who had accompanied them to Saradush.