Free The Glass Prison by Monte Cook Page B

inadvertently, but some after years and years of careful, meticulous planning.

Chapter Five
    It was good to have a purpose. Vheod’s footsteps no longer fell gingerly on the ground with the tentativeness of an explorer, but instead his stride betrayed the resolute determination of a man with a mission.
    The village he’d observed earlier lay on the outskirts of the forest. Two days previous, Vheod watched laborers work to clear more of the land. As the sun rose into the morning sky this day, those same workers returned to their tasks. Sounds of axes against wood and falling trees filled the rapidly warming air.
    Vheod hoped that someone here could direct him in which way to go. He needed to find the two people shown to him who would free Chare’en. Were they servants of the balor? Somehow he doubted that. More likely, he thought, they would inadvertently loose the tanar’ri lord through some other action. Stopping them, then, would be as simple as finding them in time and warning them.
    He had no idea where this place, Tilverton, might lie. He was unsure even of its nature, though he assumed it must be a city or a fortress of some kind, since people obviously lived there.
    In his previous visit, Vheod had slipped into the village after the descent of night. In the Abyss, helearned to approach others with either subtlety and guile or domineering aggression. The stealthy approach had served its purpose so far—now it was time for a change of pace.
    Leaving the cover of the woods, Vheod entered the tiny settlement, walking amid the small buildings constructed of felled logs fitted crudely together. Smoke rose from a number of them, carrying with it good, wholesome smells that tugged at Vheod’s nose, making him suddenly aware of his own hunger. Trying to ignore the feeling, he walked toward a central area from which all the other buildings seemed to radiate and the largest building in town stood. He never reached it.
    A man dressed in rough, sturdy clothes stepped through an open doorway. As he walked he pulled thick leather work gloves onto his hands, despite the growing heat of the day. His face concealed with a thick beard, the man looked up at Vheod with surprise.
    “Who in the name of Helm are you?” the man asked.
    “Silence,” Vheod said, attempting to sound as powerful and confident as he could, despite his smoky, scratched voice. “I am Vheod Runechild, and I must know where the place called Tilverton lies.”
    The man backed slowly into the open doorway. “Feshik! Get out here,” he yelled, still staring at Vheod.
    “And bring my sword,” he added over his shoulder.
    Vheod was confused. He looked around, even behind him, but saw nothing. By the time he returned his gaze to the man, a young boy had appeared in the doorway, attempting to peer around the large man. The child’s black hair was tousled, and his eyes opened almost as wide as his mouth as he stared at Vheod.
    “Who is that, Papa?” the child asked.
    “I said to bring my sword!” the man replied, pushing the child backward into the house with a wide, gloved hand.
    “You don’t need your sword,” Vheod said, extending an empty hand in the man’s direction. “I have need of knowledge. Aid me and no one will be harmed.”
    “What you’ll get is a taste of steel, demon.”
    Demon?
Was it so obvious? “As I said, there’s no need for that.”
    “What’s going on here, Tallin?” a voice came from behind Vheod, causing him to whirl in surprise, his hand instinctively going for his sword hilt—an action he immediately regretted. He just was not accustomed to this sort of peaceful approach. His instincts were too versed in danger.
    Behind him stood another man, larger but older than the first. His yellow hair receded from his forehead, and his face was clean shaven. He hefted a wood axe at the ready as Vheod turned. The cambion pulled his hand away from his hilt, holding his hands open and high in front of him.
    “I don’t want to