Free The Eye of the Chained God by Don Bassingthwaite

spread. She knew the name of that power: Vestapalk.
    They stayed on the road. The feeling that Albanon followed drew him somewhat west of north, not quite in the direction of the village of Winterhaven, but close enough that it seemed sensible to make that their destination. Winterhaven had been Uldane’s home before he—and Shara—had come south to Fallcrest, and he knew the area well. Sticking to the road meant faster travel and better visibility than cutting across country. By early afternoon they had passed beyond the farms. The trees of the Cloak Wood shadowed the road ahead of them. At another time they might have been in danger of an attack by the kobolds that made the forest their home, but Tempest would have been surprised if they’d seen one of the little creatures. If the demons hadn’t infected the kobolds, the kobolds were almost certainly hiding.
    Still, Splendid, who had been curled across Albanon’s shoulder with one eye open like a wary cat, shook out her wings and leaped into the sky. She flew a little ways, then began to glide in wide circles, scouting the way ahead and the countryside around.
    Tempest nudged her horse up so she rode alongside Albanon. “I suppose we’re lucky we haven’t encountered any flying plague demons yet,” she said.
    “Yet,” echoed Albanon. “Every time we face them, we seem to find something new. Demons of the Abyss appear in every shape and size. Why not demons of the plague as well? Kri thought there was a connection between them. Legends say that Tharizdun created the Abyss—and demons—by placing a seed of corruption in the depths of the Elemental Chaos. We know he had a hand in creating the Voidharrow and that it turns living beings into demons. It’s probably only a matter of time before a victim of the plague grows wings.”
    “That’s pessimistic.”
    “We don’t have much to be optimistic about, do we? We’re trying to stop Vestapalk by following a gut feeling inspired by the god of madness and destruction.”
    There didn’t seem to be much she could say to that. They rode a little further in silence, then Tempest asked him, “What was it like?”
    The eladrin snorted softly. “Almost being turned into a plague demon by Vestapalk or being in thrall to Tharizdun?”
    “Tharizdun.”
    He looked at her. “What was it like being possessed by Nu Alin?”
    The question was harsh. Probably harsher than it was meant to be—Tempest saw a flash of shame in Albanon’s eyes—but she didn’t give him a chance to apologize. When her friends had first freed her from the demon’s grip, she’d felt horrified by her experience. Now the memory of it just made her angry. “It made me feel violated. Unclean.I’m never going to let anyone or anything make me feel like that again.” She bared her teeth. “It was like being a puppet. I could feel him inside me, wrapped around my muscles and my bones. He sank right into my mind. I was a prisoner inside my own body, aware of everything but helpless.”
    Albanon’s face twisted. “Then you’re lucky.” He turned away from her and stared straight ahead. “When Tharizdun has you, it doesn’t feel like you’re trapped. It feels like you’re perfectly sane and it’s the world that’s gone mad. I wasn’t even aware I was in his thrall. If Kri had exerted more power, I might not have been able to break free. I think I could only do it because we encountered you as we made our way through Fallcrest.”
    His words brought a peculiar tightness to her chest. “Me?” she said.
    Albanon flushed, red patches bright against his pale cheeks. “All of you, I mean,” he said quickly. Tempest didn’t believe him for a second. The tightness turned into a pleasant warmth and the lingering harshness in Albanon’s manner disappeared as he scrambled for words to cover his embarrassment. “Shara, Uldane. Roghar, I think. I’ll tell you this: if a follower of Tharizdun ever opens his mouth and screams at you, cover