Finally, the large figure turned toward them. Vheod recognized him, as did "Whitlock and Melann, judging by the looks on their faces. But then, of course they did, Vheod realized.

The man was Orrag.

"I was wondering when you would get here," Orrag said with an evil grin. "I was starting to worry."

"What are you doing here?" Vheod demanded, pointing at Orrag with the short sword.

Tm here for the same reason you are, friend," the half-orc said to Vheod, never dropping his toothy smile for a moment. "To free your ancestor, the great and powerful Chare'en, Lord of the Seven

Vengeances."

Vheod had never heard that title before. How had Orrag? He felt Melann and Whitlock's gazes fall on him, but he didn't turn from the villainous half-orc. Tm here for just the opposite reason, as you well know," Vheod said. "Was everything you told me in Tilverton a lie?"

"Of course not," Orrag replied with his phlegmy, rough voice. "If it had all been a lie you never would've found your way here."

"Listen, you," Whitlock interrupted, "I don't know what sort of game you're playing, but we won't be your pawns. Why did you give us directions to this place if you knew it wasn't really what we were looking for. We sought the crypt of an old wizard-not a demon's prison."

"Simpleton," Orrag said. "You'll die not knowing."

The four men who stood around Orrag tensed. Two of them took menacing steps forward but stopped when they saw their leader made no hostile moves. Orrag continued to smile.

"Why all the elaborate deceptions?" Vheod asked and lowered his sword.

"Only you can free him, Vheod. I may be a devout servant, but the spells that imprison him can only be broken by a blood relation. Braendysh, the wizard who created this prison, saw to it." Orrag drew forth a long, curved scimitar from his belt, still grinning.

"I was so sure that Chauntea led us here," Melann whispered. "I was so sure."

Orrag spoke. "Now, Vheod, join me in opening these doors, and let's finish what has been started."

"If you think," Vheod retorted without hesitation, "that for one moment I might consider joining you in your sick plans, you're as dim-witted as you look.'"

"Vheod," Orrag said, still smiling, "this is your destiny. Don't fool yourself." The smile faded. "This is who you are."

"Never!" Vheod suddenly launched himself at Orrag, with sword in hand and denial as a battle cry.

Melann's world crumbled around her as surely as if the stone of the walls tumbled down around them all. How could she have been so wrong? The whole thing-the whole quest that she and her brother had undertaken-was a lie. It had all been a trick from the beginning. She'd told herself that Chauntea wanted her to undertake this journey, and as proof to her self she observed how everything seemed to work so well to lead her down this path. Now she saw that she'd been fooled as much as Vheod. She wondered if Vheod, like she, had been the primary instrument in his own deception.

Poor Vheod. She'd only helped his enemies in maneuvering him into this situation. Now he fought not only for his life but for his very soul. With every movement he must be questioning himself, she realized. She'd told him that she had faith in him, and it was true. Despite all reason, she truly believed that in the struggle against his own evil nature he was strong enough to win. That didn't mean it was going to be easy for him-nor did it mean he might not be killed if he wouldn't submit.

Melann had faith in Vheod but not in herself. While she never doubted Chauntea's power, she certainly doubted her own ability to devote all of her time and attention to the Mother of All's causes. She had become caught up in this personal mission to come here and find something to assuage the curse that plagued her family. Now that obsession with her personal goals had brought everything to ruin. There was no magical staff to remove the curse, there was only some demonic creature about to be loosed on the world.

Vheod had, at first, seemingly caught Orrag off guard with his attack. Though he seemed as surprised as the half-orc by Vheod's actions, Whitlock appeared more than happy to leap into the fray and help. Orrag and his followers outnumbered the two warriors- they needed her help. Melann reached through the cloud of despair that surrounded her and grabbed the wooden amulet bearing Chauntea's symbol.

No. She couldn't bring herself to call on her goddess's power. Her hand dropped to her belt where she kept her mace. She drew it out and stepped forward to where Vheod and Whitlock already fought Orrag and his men. Vheod engaged Orrag directly, but the four thugs threatened to overwhelm her brother almost immediately.

Melann hefted her weapon with both hands and attacked one of the men. She smashed the mace into his shoulder and spun him around to face her.

"Chare'en will show you vengeance, woman!" the cutthroat shouted as he slashed at her with a curved knife.

The wicked blade cut through the air, but she stepped backward to avoid it. All these men must worship Chare'en, she realized. Melann found it difficult to imagine such a horrible thing. How could they revere a demon? How could they worship the evil and death it represented? Her revulsion drove her mace in powerful strokes, first onto the villain's arm, which replied with a snap of bone. The knife flew from his hand, and she lifted the weapon over her head to finish him off.

Her foe was driven by powerful emotions of his own, though, and weaponless, he lunged at her using his weight to knock her back. Savagely he tore at her with his remaining arm and even with his teeth. "Animal!" she grunted as she pushed him away. Melann bore no regret as she smashed her mace into the man's face. He slumped to the floor. She'd never fought a human before, let alone killed one- though these fiend-worshiping cultists hardly carried themselves as men-but there was little doubt that he was dead.

Melann suddenly couldn't see the battle around her. She could only see what her willful actions had brought her to as she looked at the blood that coated her weapon.

She began to sob.

Whitlock had thrust himself, sword first, into the fray. As Vheod attacked Orrag, he positioned himself to fend off the other men who accompanied the half-orc. It was all he could do, however, to parry their attacks with his blade. He missed his shield, not to mention his armor. He dropped his torch to the ground, hoping it would burn long enough so that he could see in the coming fight. Orrag's henchmen who brandished torches did like-wise as they moved to attack.

Melann moved forward and attacked one of his foes, drawing the cultist's attention to her. That helped considerably, as Whitlock thrust his blade offensively toward one of the three remaining men. Two had short swords, the other-the fastest and most dangerous, Whitlock judged-fought with a dagger in each hand. With three foes instead of four, Whitlock could press them back with his own jabs and feints while still maintaining his guard. Fighting multiple gnolls a number of times over the last few days had forced him to become accustomed to this sort of fighting, and while these fiend-worshiping cultists weren't without skill and determination, they didn't possess the size and strength of the gnolls.

Whitlock at least had a chance. Defeating all three of these men would almost certainly still be the most difficult battle of his life. One of the swordsmen moved in close to eliminate the advantage that Whitlock's long sword granted him. He countered that move with a punch to the man's stomach that caused him to double over. Whitlock raised his sword to capitalize on his advantage, but the double-dagger man lunged forward, forcing him to duck aside. He still brought his blade down on the first attacker, but it was mistimed and only barely sliced the cultist's leg.