It did not take long for Terchin to determine where the duke’s chambers were located. They were, of course, in the most recently constructed and opulent portion of the fortress. Terchin was able to unobtrusively observe a pair of guards at the end of a short hallway, stationed on either side of an ornate door that led to his destination.

  “We can’t get in that way without drawing an awful lot of attention,” Terchin whispered to his son after he ducked back around a corner.

  “How do you know he’s even in there?” Oreus whispered in reply.

  “I don’t, but if he isn’t there, he is bound to end up there soon. The predator always returns to his den – and I’ll be waiting.”

  Terchin slowly withdrew and pondered his next move. Tolthurdine’s apartment was certain to have at least one window, most likely generously sized. That could afford another potential point of entry if only the means of that entry could be worked out...

  It was then that Terchin observed that Oreus was still wearing the boots of swiftness that he had given him on the night of the escape. He smiled as possibilities began to occur to him.

  A quarter of an hour later they were in another courtyard discretely peering up at a balcony that he was certain would grant the access they needed. Terchin was getting the lay of the land. The footprint of the complex was almost completely assembled in his mind. He could envision its extents and where he was within it – a priceless skill for one who infiltrated the lair of an enemy or delved into subterranean networks.

  Now it was merely a question of tactics; how would he get up onto the balcony – and without being seen? As was often the case, he narrowed his preferred choices to stealth or speed. On this occasion, he selected the latter. He looked down at his son’s feet and talked in a low voice.

  “I’m going to need those boots now, Oreus. We can swap, though mine will be a few sizes too big for you.”

  Oreus complied readily enough but was discontented. “What about me? Shall I climb up after you?”

  “No,” and Terchin held up his hand to cut off any objections. “I am going to do the deed as soon as I have the opportunity and then get out. If I am lucky enough to confront him immediately I will be leaving again as quickly. But the more I have to linger, the more dangerous it will be. And I will need to exit as quickly as I entered.”

  “But I want to help!”

  “And so you shall. I need you to create a distraction so that people aren’t looking in the direction I will be. If we time it right, I just need a few seconds at most. Then I want you to hide – or at least discretely remain out of harm’s way.”

  “Oh, I have something better!” and Oreus produced a small stoppered flask from a fold in his tunic, “Deena whipped up a potion of camouflage.”

  “Ah, she must have seen how useful it was for Bulbossa.”

  “I’ve been hanging on to it, waiting for the right time to drink it. I hadn’t used it yet because she said she didn’t think it would last very long – something about one of the ingredients not being fresh. Take it, father!”

  Terchin gulped down the brew and waited for it to go into effect in the shadows under a stairway. He looked down at his hands and watched them become seemingly transparent, only faint outlines of them visible. He waved them back and forth, seeing the resulting blur as the enchantment slightly lagged in its response. It was an imperfect, more primitive sort of invisibility, but he had no doubt the potion would serve his purposes.

  He walked to the end of the courtyard directly opposite the balcony, waited for a clear path, activated the magic of his enchanted footwear, and then crossed it in a few great bounds, accelerating as he did so. A last prodigious jump sent him sailing into the air, over the railing and onto the balcony. He managed to check his momentum with outstretched hands, pushing off the jambs of the many-paned door that gave access to the balcony from the chamber inside. With relief, he unsheathed his sword and with his free hand tried the latch on the door. As expected, it was not locked. Cautiously he pushed the door inward and ducked inside, grateful that the door was noiseless. A quick glance about the interior revealed no one. Deftly avoiding a fluttering curtain, he sidled against the wall.

  It was a bedroom, luxuriously furnished, with a large four-poster bed. Someone was on it. Terchin crept forward eagerly.

  It was not the duke. Instead Terchin recognized Eymund on the bed. He was still clutching the gorget he had seized from Vadus to his chest. His eyes were open but unseeing and his body was drenched in sweat. He whimpered and muttered under his breath in turns, oblivious to the fact that he was no longer alone.

  Terchin was briefly disappointed that his quarry was not present but realized that Tolthurdine would not stay away from his son for long. He merely had to wait. But how much longer would his potion last? He decided to select a location for concealment that still afforded a view of the entrance. He considered retreating to one of the rooms that opened up on either side, which together comprised the private suite of the duke. He went in each and gave them a cursory glance to confirm they were unoccupied.

  Just then Eymund bolted upright. Terchin stared at the young man. Eymund’s eyes rolled back into his head, then the exposed whites shone with an uncanny light. His mind was obviously somewhere else – certainly not in this room. It occurred to Terchin that he might be witnessing a type of possession. This made him nervous; he was keenly aware that such things fell outside of his purview and he was ill-equipped to handle them.

  Then a movement out of the corner of his eye from an unexpected quarter startled him. He was astonished and then vexed to see Oreus silently clambering over the balcony railing. He glared daggers at his son.

  “It’s all right father,” Oreus whispered. He was looking around, trying to spot Terchin. “The courtyard emptied out, and this entire wall is in shadow now. It was an easy climb, too.”

  “That’s not the point!” Terchin hissed, annoyed at the flagrant display of disobedience. Forgetting the effect of his camouflage potion, he gestured at Oreus to remain where he was. Oreus peeked into the room and looked at the rigid figure on the bed with interest.

  “Since I didn’t hear anything I figured that the room must be empty, so I thought I might as well wait up here with you.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  Terchin was about to growl another rebuke when Eymund began speaking loudly and slowly, a ponderous string of declamations in a language that sounded far from human. He slowly rose from the bed and stood facing the door leading to the guarded corridor, still apparently unaware there were others in his proximity.

  “What is he saying?” Oreus whispered in confusion.

  Terchin frowned. The sibilant quality of the words was vaguely familiar. It hearkened back to an encounter during an adventure in his youth. He suspected swamps were involved somehow... A particular quality of the pronunciation and tenor of the utterances made his skin crawl. “I have heard something very much like it years ago. It was the tongue of the accursed lizardfolk. But this sounds strangely refined...and more sinister.” Terchin crossed the room to the balcony and firmly pressed Oreus back against the balcony railing.

  “Unless I specifically call for you, you better stay right here. Don’t move, and if you value our lives be silent!” Then leaving the door slightly ajar he yanked the curtains shut and hoped that was sufficient concealment for his son.

  Eymund was still uttering that incomprehensible tongue, strings of alien clauses that gave the impression of a recitation from eons past. A sharp rapping at the door commenced and a concerned call from one of the guards stationed in the hall accompanied it. Doubtless, they were worried that their charge was under threat, that someone else was in the room – someone who did not have leave to be there. Terchin came to his own conclusions. He knew an incantation when he heard one, regardless of the language that voiced it. There was magic being attempted here. But the duke’s son wasn’t a mage, which meant...

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  Eymund was changing. More than that, it was a complete transmogrification. He became more broad in frame. The hair atop his head fell away, replaced by a spiny crest. His eyes took on a chartreuse tint and pupils went from round to vertical slits. The lower half of his face became more pronounced though his chin receded, and the voice changed, becoming more guttural even as the words it formed came more freely, as if the body was now better suited to create them. His nails elongated and thickened into claws and his skin became squamous. A tale emerged, forcing the seams of his pants apart as it grew until it reached the floor, whereupon it began to swish from side to side in an agitated sweeping motion. The transformation was complete.

  The new being that stood before him was arrayed in scales that went in hue from burgundy to bronze, with hints of green at the extremities. The reptilian nature was clear – a lizard man had taken the place of Eymund. The creature’s head tilted back and his jaws parted, revealing fangs and a black forked tongue that darted out once before a roar issued from the maw, reverberating through the chamber. Then he pressed the gorget to his chest, where it glowed and grafted itself onto the scaly flesh, fusing them together.

  The tongue flicked out several more times and the head abruptly turned toward him.

  Terchin quailed as he recalled a scrap of lore that many reptiles were able to use their tongues to locate prey via an acute sense of smell. And this was no ordinary reptile. Nor was it even an ordinary lizard man; this had to be a sort of shaman or sorcerer-priest, which meant he could probably detect magic as well. He and Oreus had to get out of there immediately.

  The banging on the door to the suite became more pronounced. And then a metallic rustling told of the insertion of a key into the door’s lock. The thunk of the latch being turned was immediately followed by a crash as the door was kicked inward. The two guards they had avoided earlier rushed in, followed by another pair. Beyond them the court chamberlain cowered in the corridor, the keys of his office still dangling from the hand clutched to his chest.

  “I shall find the duke and fetch him hither. Protect the scion at all costs!” And saying this, the man fled.

  The guards had stormed in perhaps expecting to defend their lord’s son against the attack of some warlock or assassin. But the reality was more confounding, and at the sight that greeted them, they froze in astonishment. Terchin couldn’t blame them, he was almost transfixed himself, yet he slowly edged away from the ongoing spectacle. He was very glad that in this volatile situation he was essentially invisible.

  To their credit, the guards stood their ground, then lowered their poleaxes and took a step toward the creature.

  The lizard man was unfazed. He barely turned his head to look at the arrivals, of two minds as to whether the unseen presence he detected was a greater threat than the mundane one constituted by the guards. Then he pivoted and his large tail lashed out. Like a whip, it struck one of the men square in the chest. The mass of it knocked him off his feet. He was sent careening into a cabinet which broke under the impact, its remnants and contents landing on the man after he sank to the floor. His partner jabbed with his poleaxe, hoping to impale the lizard man with its deadly spike. He missed. The lizard man dodged with a quick sidestep and then jumped between two of the men. Before they could react claws had snaked out and raked one man across the neck. Blood sprayed as his throat was torn open. The other man wheeled to strike, but his weapon was too long to effectively wield in such close quarters. Its shaft harmlessly bumped against the reptilian assailant’s shoulder. The guard attempted to pull the weapon back toward himself, hoping to snag his attacker with its wicked hook. But he wasn’t fast enough. The lizard man moved along with the weapon; his jaws opened wide as he lunged. Terchin got a glimpse of slender fangs before they sank into the startled man’s face. Then came the screaming.

  The final man standing had taken a few steps back out of the fray. Though terrified, he saw his chance, and he swung his poleaxe so its cutting edge would hit the lizard man’s exposed back. But though the blow landed, the expected wound failed to occur; the weapon thudded harmlessly against the ridge along the creature’s spine and slid off. A follow-up attack also failed to penetrate the seemingly impervious scaly hide.

  Witnessing the ineffectual strikes Terchin realized that he was in the presence of a creature of such power that ordinary weapons probably lacked the ability to harm it. This boded ill for the guards – and for him. If forced to defend himself, he would need a more potent weapon than the one he currently held.

  It occurred to Terchin that as he was in Duke Tolthurdine’s private chambers it was possible – even likely – that there might be powerful items located within them. And while he had an opportunity it would behoove him to search for any.

  Silently cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner, he cautiously withdrew to the adjacent room. It appeared to be a study. There was an elaborately carved desk flanked by locked cabinets. There was a set of shelves on the far side of a generously sized window, and next to that a chest. Terchin took a quick tally of the locks – the desk, chest, cabinets – at least four. Who knows what treasures might lie behind them? If only he had more time! Then he saw it in the corner.

  The corner was dark and there was a silk cloth tossed over it, but Terchin spotted the tell-tale shape of a hilt. He eagerly bounded to the sword propped up against the wall. Discarding the sword he carried, he seized it and brought it to the window for closer inspection. He was thrilled to discover that the weapon belonged to him – it was his sword, of which he had been divested when he was captured. Of course, Tolthurdine would have kept it for himself, at least until he had determined the nature of the enchantments upon it. Terchin grinned at his fortuitous discovery. Sometimes Letressa favored him after all! Then he became aware of a foreboding silence and his elation faded.

  All sounds of struggle had ceased in the other room.

  Alarmed, Terchin quickly turned his head and altered his stance, ready to counter a surprise attack. But he saw nothing. He cautiously sidled up to the open doorway and peered into the duke’s bedroom.

  The lizard man was crouched over one of the dead guards. He was making gestures over the corpse, claws dripping with the blood of the slain. Then a pattern was traced onto the torso, the lines of blood forming a sigil. This was quickly repeated on the other bodies. Terchin knew he was resorting to ancient blood magic, an unwholesome power almost as foul as necromancy.

  The lizard man pressed his other hand to the gorget on his breast and a surge of humming power emanated from it. It spread over his entire body and Terchin saw an effulgent haze detaching from it, taking shape into vaguely humanoid forms as they peeled away one by one. The apparitions hovered briefly before pouring like water into the bodies on the floor. The spiritual energy then faded. Terchin held his breath.

  The bodies began to stir. First one, then another, and then all of them sat up and struggled to their feet. There was twitching and flexing, as whatever spirits that were lending their animating force got accustomed to new homes of flesh.

  One of them attempted to speak, but all it could produce was a ghastly croaking sound. The lizard man addressed them in tones that were almost soothing. The quartet listened and seemed to comprehend.

  Whether they were vessels containing the souls of the shaman’s kin or some other abomination, Terchin knew that getting as far from this as possible was the best new course of action. He began to edge back to the balcony as stealthily as he could, hoping that Oreus would not betray his location – and that the duration of his potion of camouflage would not lapse.

  Sounds of a gathering commotion then reached their ears. The alert lizard man cocked his head to one side, listening intently. He barked something that had the intonation of a command. The animated dead performed an about-face and lurched out of the room at a brisk pace that sharply contrasted with their macabre appearance. The lizard man followed but paused on the threshold and turned back, surveying the room quizzically. Terchin froze in dread, hoping that his potion’s effects would not wear off at this extremely inopportune moment. He tensed the grip on his sword, ready to sell his life dearly. Then the creature was gone, traversing the corridor in powerful bounding strides.

  Terchin heaved a sigh of relief. He lifted the curtain and told Oreus to come into the room.

  “What was all that? What happened?” his son demanded.

  “Wow. So, Eymund is possessed by a multitude of insane lizard men from the distant past. I did not see that coming. Tough break,” drawled Terchin.

  In a flash, a horrible thought occurred to him that banished his sangfroid. If this reptilian shaman could invest every corpse with another soul, this could snowball into a true calamity. If it was anything like a zombie outbreak it could sweep across the castle or even the entire district, consuming all the inhabitants. Who knew what the practical limit might be? He shuddered.

  “Come on!” Terchin urged his son. “Let’s get out of here before a throng of people show up!” He surmised that the ensuing confusion should afford them ample cover. They probably wouldn’t even be noticed now. The rampage of a lizard man and his meat puppet entourage would tend to have that sort of effect, he suspected.

  “Where to?”

  Terchin was vacillating, an unusual state for him and thus doubly unpleasant. There were too many pieces on the board, now. Though taking advantage of the chaos might provide more opportunity to kill Tolthurdine, it also precluded him from staging a discrete assassination from which they could cleanly extricate themselves. He had no doubt the duke would be surrounded by his men and wary; there would be no way to catch him alone as he had hoped to do in this bedchamber.

  “I feel like we get should ourselves near an exit – let’s hightail it to the main gate. With all the people fleeing I’m sure it’s still open, but it might not be much longer. We can blend in with the crowd just like you did when you came in.”

  “What about Deena and Kestrom?”

  “We must leave them to their own devices.” An adult must pursue his own destiny. But a parent must ensure that his child still has one.