A/N: This story was written in two parts—one by Robbyl9, one of the most fantastic writers I've ever seen, and myself. Thank you – Aren Kae
--
May it be the shadows call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun
Mornie ut ûlien (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantien (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now
-May It Be - Enya
The High Forest, 20 years pre-Battle of West Harbor
The night was dark and almost dead of sound. Besides the chirping of nocturnal insects not a single other noise could be heard, making the silence a rather peaceful one. Being quite far from any known settlements the only source of light came from the moon, which shone full and beautiful from behind misty clouds.
With the night the way it was anybody would have little reason to think that this was anything other than normal.
And indeed, unbeknownst to anybody, trouble had already begun to brew among the trees of the High Forest…
--
The night calm suddenly became disrupted by the sound of rustling and rapid breathing. With a look of life or death desperation on her face, a lone woman carrying a basket made her escape from… Something.
From the way she was dressed, she was nothing more than a house girl. She wore a cheaply tailored maid's dress with a pair of muddy brown shoes. Her hair matched her shoes in color but was lower neck length and rather nice for someone demoted to labor.
Her heart pounding, the young woman tried to collect herself against a tree. She was sure that whatever had been chasing her must be reasonably behind her by now, at least enough to rest.
I must think. He cannot be allowed to do this! She thought looking down into the basket. My only hope will be to seek solace among the elves. They will turn me away at first, but I can show them what…
She wouldn't have time to finish her thought, as the break of a twig snapped her to her senses and back to her feet. On pure adrenaline alone, the woman was on the run again through the trees. The further she ran the thicker the trees seemed to get, frightening her and frustrating her at the same time.
For a brief moment she was able to calm her panicking mind to think about the importance of her task. Her eyes accustomed more to the dark and she dodged carefully around the trees before her while keeping a quick pace.
Thinking that she had made good enough evasion once again, the woman slowed down to listen for the rustling sounds which pursued her. Nothing...
But that all changed when a dagger struck the tree next to her, mere inches from her face and sending her racing through the trees again.
Her pursuit through the trees was not to keep much longer, she could tell. She was long exhausted, lost in a thicket of trees and trying to run in a peasant's dress to boot. "Oh Goddess." she began to pray through breaths "See me through to your arms, let not my soul be taken by evil."
--
Finally, it came to an end. Out of nowhere, a blast of green fire erupted from the ground underneath the escaping maid, exploding with great force. She flew through the air and into a tree, making a sickening crack on impact. She rolled onto her back, screaming in pain.
She could still feel her extremities and they all hurt like torture. Dripping down her face was a mixture of sweat and dirt, smeared with blood.
Concerned for nothing more, she used the last of her depleted energy to look in the direction of her basket. Thankfully it had landed in the brush and sustained a far more fortunate impact by comparison and the pile of rags inside did not seem disturbed. A smile formed at the edges of her mouth.
The sound of boots landing from up high made her look back up.
And there he was. The very man she had feared would be the one to chase her down. He loomed over her for a few seconds before stomping down on her broken shoulder with all his force, eliciting a scream. "Hello, peasant human." a venomous voice hissed from under the hood "We meet again at last."
"You're too late, Kissk." The maid responded defiantly, in spite of the pain.
"I beg to differ. It is you who it is too late for."
"He's going to find out your intentions eventually. You won't succeed."
"I will. And you will not stop me."
Using one hand to un-hood himself, Kissk drew one of his daggers from his coat. Pressing it against her throat, he leaned in close. So that she could see the evil taint in his eyes and feel the tip of his forked tongue flicking uncomfortably against her bloody cheek.
"However. You have presented me with an opportunity. One heir will be much easier to kill than two." Kissk's eyes squinted and he grinned evilly "So as thanks, human. Say goodbye." Without a second's hesitation more, he opened his mouth to reveal large fangs. He forced her head to one side and dug them into her neck, hissing terribly as he did it.
Instantly, the venom began to flow and penetrate the young maid's body. She could feel it moving, everywhere it hit becoming instantly numb. Within seconds the maid was overcome by tremors and felt her limbs tighten to paralysis. The venom flowed freely through her for about a minute or so until it reached her eyes. The maid's final living visions blurred out of focus and her final breath was forced from her lips.
"A shame, peasant." Kissk finally said "You were always my favorite one."
Now, onward to business, he thought getting back upright and starting toward the basket. The maid wasn't the only one who knew the significance of its true cargo. Kissk knew that what lay inside of that basket was the key to his future as ruler of the Yuan-ti clan to which he belonged.
For years he had toiled endlessly under his master's thumb to get where he was at his master's right hand. Now, he saw his chance to surpass his old master and challenge his rule. And his master would never see it coming. The relentless hunter peeled the rags aside one by one uncovering the peaceful, sleeping form of a baby girl.
This was the one which stood in the way of his coming rule in the clan. For a moment, Kissk reflected on how dangerous the life of this one was to his plans. She had one sibling but that son was born weak and it was a wonder the master had managed to conceive either of them at his age. This child on the other hand appeared perfect. By Yuan-ti standards she would someday become fit to rule.
But not anymore. And when the master died and passed the mantle down, Kissk would send his son right after.
But before he could end the baby's life an arrow flew through the air and caught his robe at the shoulder, pinning him to the tree behind him. Within seconds, a hail of arrows was headed in his direction.
Kissk broke away and hurled daggers from his belt as he tried to stay out of the line of fire. But they had the high ground and were well hidden in the trees. It wasn't long before the wood elves in the trees had him on the run.
He knew he had to take care of the baby himself, though. Taking cover behind a tree, he opened his hand and charged up another green fireball. But just a split second before he released it, an arrow unexpectedly came from a different direction than the others and struck him square in the arm.
The fireball misfired and landed beside the basket, catching the brush on fire. Kissk decide that was close enough and beat a hasty retreat out the forest, disappearing in a cloud of black smoke.
--
The elves had jumped from their perches on the treetops and began giving chase.
"He was one man. Yuan-ti." One of the guards said to the senior archer who had just arrived.
"Track him as far as you are able. Capture him if possible." The archer responded, looking around.
The sound of high-pitched screaming and crying caught his attention. That was the unmistakable sound of a baby. When the archer rushed over to pluck her from the basket, the fire had spread through the brush and was just licking at the basket.
"By the Deities…" he whispered, holding her in his arms.
"Captain, you'd better look at this!" a guard exclaimed, holding up a note sewn to the maid's dress.
The note was smudged from being in the dirt but it read:
Her name is Tasha. Take care of her and teach her to love. She is more than she appears.
And at the bottom of the note was the symbol of Angarradh, the Elven goddess of Fertility. Neither the captain nor his subordinate knew what to make of this, but they both agreed that this was a matter best left to the village elders.
When it was concluded that the Yuan-ti intruder had thoroughly covered his tracks, the guards returned to their posts. The captain, meanwhile, took the child to seek the council of the village elders. After being alone with the child for the longest time and taking many hours into the morning for deliberation, they reached their decision.
--
"We have peered into this child's mind and seen secrets which could have consequences if revealed at the wrong time." The first elder told the captain.
"It has been determined that she is to be raised as one of our own until she comes of age, at which point she will venture to discover her true identity." said the second one.
"Until such a time, she is to be left in the care of Utûlien Y'leni. That is all." The last one finally spoke, holding Tasha out to the captain.
The captain bowed his head in respect and took the sleeping child into his arms again. It was decided; the Yuan-ti child already thought to be an abomination by many of the gossiping townsfolk was to grow up in the care of the most renowned fencer and duelist in the village.
"The next two decades are going to be trying on everyone…"
The captain exited the council house and made his way toward Utûlien's apprenticeship hall.
--
Abandoned dwarven halls near Neverwinter – 9 years pre-Battle of West harbor
This deep in the mountains, there were no stars to relieve the night's gloom, no constellations to make the black skies more alien. The air above—for it was air, not actual sky—was an inky fog of dark, jutting stalagmites that dripped condensation from their points to make an eery echo the rebounded in the underground labrynth. It never failed to make Sabrae Telcho feel more than a little lost and alone.
The Council of Eleven had retreated to the abandoned dwarven mines nearest to Neverwinter to conclave, and ever since meeting them here Sabrae had been wondering whether this dark corner of the Sword Coast would become their tomb. Like most good secret hiding places, it felt safe and secure… to dwarves. They had carved their tunnels too low for her liking, giving her the irrefutable idea that she was trapped in a box—a box that was squeezing her, drawing tighter, tighter, and tighter.
She knew the Council would never leave the safe halls, not while Lord Nasher rested within. She knew in her heart of hearts that Hasafer and Jae had failed, though. The fact that they had given no notice of their arrival through the amulets hanging around their necks was testament to that.
Several of the Council was already gathered in a table behind her, holding an impromptu status report with Master Fuller, Master Rider, and the recently-elevated Master Yuda in admittance—the Big Three. Not for the first time in her life, Sabrae wondered whether she could ever live up to their legend, how she could possibly impact the Sword Coast as they had during their long and illustrious lives.
"…and are we sure that there were none missing from the Greycloak roster in the timeframe around the attack?" Raijah, a half-elf, was asking. "Even if they aren't palace guards, they do have access to the Blacklake District."
Not wishing to involve herself in the conversaion until she was invited—or at least until the time was right—Sabrae kept her back to the table and continued to stare around the edges of their meeting room: an old dwarven mess hall, lit by a snake of fire Raijah had conjured for them.
"This might have been Captain Torfiss' play," Raijah continued. Captain Torfiss of the Greycloaks that guarded Neverwinter wasn't a much-liked personality within the Council. They had alternate groups of Nighthawks stalk him day and night, watching for the bribes they knew he must be taking under the table.
"Could be," said the tiefling beside her, who was staring at the fire as if it were something vaguely interesting. The only other girl on the Council besides Sabrae, Abigail was probably one of the most opinionated of them all. "Maybe all Torfiss did was streamline whoever it was's decision-making process."
Nobody laughed. Only a week ago had the last call come from their amulets—an emergency beckon, alerting them to the detrimental health of one of the Big Three: Hashasi. He'd been Fuller's second-in-command, though not anymore. An assassin had walked casually through ranks of Greycloaks, armored palace guards, and Neverwinter Nine before their Nighthawk companion had realized that this assassin was a threat. It had come to a private fight, or maybe the assassin had snuck up behind them—either way, when Abigail and Ach-Kay had found him, they'd found him in pieces.
Hasafer, a fourth-ranking Master in the Council to Sabrae's fifth, had taken upon the case with Master Jae, a moon elf with a talent for reading between the lines… and they hadn't found anything. Jae's normally cheerful face looked morose in the firelight.
After a long pause in the conversation, Fuller said, "I don't think it matters if Torfiss let anybody in Blacklake unsupervised. The fact that we have these many issues about his loyalty should be good enough to take if out of a seat of power as a suspect in investigation."
"And tip off the assassin," Raijah said.
"If there is indeed a corpreal assassin," Abigail pointed out, holding up one finger. "I'm not convinced it wasn't, and I know there were no demons in the room or else I'd smell them. I've made my own inquiries on the case, and Thorfinn Ranolf was hired out to a rich baker just some time ago. Remember, the summoner? Nobody knew where he was at the time of the assassination. He could have set a monster on Hashasi."
"A monster that doesn't eat the remains," Jae said hotly. "Oh, wonderful, Abigail, really."
Another pause in the conversation. The Masters looked at each other, and Jae seemed to realize that he'd said the wrong thing. Abigail didn't let it deter her: "You know as well as I do that the monsters you summon don't eat the remains, Jae Barkly. And you know perfectly well not all of them leave bite marks, either."
"I know," he muttered. "It's just…"
"Tiring," Fuller said. "Frustrating. Yes, I know. Hasafer, Jae, go to sleep."
It was hard to disagree with a man older than your grandmother. Fuller was six-foot-six, a monster of a man, and his face was both young and old. His dark, dark eyes seemed to bore into what he looked at, scanning it and looking for possible threats. His black, midnight hair was messy and looped into an easy ponytail, but the gray around his temples and in his beard on his young, young face was perhaps the most telling feature of all. Fuller had been given immortality by the gods, a process, he said, that few have the right to go to. Sabrae could still remember him when he came to her home and took her away for seeing dead people: he'd given off a fatherly affection, then. It was disconcerting to see the affection turn into a laser-lock fierceness when he was upset—and she knew he was upset.
Jae didn't dare be flippant with the old Master. He looked around the table for support, and when none came he stood. "Thank you, Master," he said quietly. Hasafer joined him on his way out.
They waited until their footsteps were out of their hearing range before Rider, a burnished tan wild elf with blue eyes, stood up almost casually and walked towards the entrance without a sound. He checked the hallways and gave Fuller a short nod. For the first time, Sabrae could see his face: it was set in an emotion she couldn't guess at, though he seemed deeply, deeply troubled.
He guarded Nasher before Hashasi, Sabrae reasoned. He probably feels guilty that he didn't notice anything out of place before.
When Rider took his place next to Yuda—a large, bulky earth genasi—Sabrae realized just how many people were missing from their meeting. It was only the Big Three, Jae and Hasafer, herself, Abigail, and Raijah, though Hasafer and Jae were gone now. Houston, Ach-Kay, and her rival Jacoby Giles were on alternating shifts guarding the Lord Nasher as he slept alongside three Neverwinter Nine who had been recalled from duties.
Sabrae stepped to the corner of the table closest to Abigail. "If I may, I'd like to express an opinion."
Fuller turned to her with an air of attentiveness, but everyone else seemed taken aback. Abigail's jaw fell, Yuda's gaze grew more penetrating, and the brows of several of the Masters rose in shock. During her tenure with the Nighthawks, Sabrae had hardly cultivated the reputation of someone who might follow proper procedure.
"You're requesting permission to talk to us?" Rider asked. For once, his brown hair was neatly trimmed, his robes unwrinkled. "Sabrae Telcho?"
"That's right." Sabrae checked her posture, drawing herself up straight and formal. "I think it's important."
Rider looked to his right and gripped Fuller's elbow in a consoling manner. "I don't know what happened over there at Luskan, but I'll help you hunt down the barve that did it."
"I figured we could all use some humor here," Sabrae said dryly. "Working in a stressed atmosphere gives me headaches, honestly."
"So tell us how we may alleviate that," Fuller said.
"There is no chance of catching the assassin now, a week into this," Sabrae began. I'm not rationalizing, I'm being realistic. "I think we should keep the search for another seven days, then allow Nasher back into his palace with additional guards."
"And if this blindingly clever maneuver gets our Lord Nasher killed?" Rider asked cryptically.
"It won't," she promised. "I propose putting more resources to the stabilization of Castle Never—more than three Nighthawks assigned to the city as a whole."
"Our resources are short," Abigail said quietly, taking her eyes off of the dancing flames conjured by Raijin to look her in the eyes. Her bright, vivid blue ones charicteristic of her race bored into her own with the power of one with celestial ancestry. "You say we place Nasher's safety above those of every citizen of the Sword Coast."
"No, that would be wrong," Sabrae said. "I'd object to it—and do—on moral principle alone. But the right to guard Neverwinter and Castle Never by Masters has made this happen. Hashasi proved that we aren't infallible. Hashasi proved we needed help. I propose that half of the Old Guard be taken off active duty and divide them into citywide security and the protection of his Lordship."
The Masters frowned thoughtfully, and surprisingly it was Yuda who said, "Good idea."
"I agree," Raijah said quietly. "We can't have another Hashasi on our hands."
"And we can't stay with Nasher for the rest of his life," Abigail pointed out. "Alright, alright, I'm game."
"Master Fuller?" Rider asked.
Fuller looked into her eyes for a moment, closed them, and nodded. Sabrae congratulated herself on part one of her plan—knowing part two would be a bit harder. "So why don't you tell us what's really on your mind?"
Sabrae nodded, then summoned to mind the speech she had been rehearsing as they talked. "As you all know, the day Lord Nasher was attacked and Hashasi killed, West Harbor was the endpoint for a war that could have easily taken the lives of many. The King of Shadows and Ammon Jerro perished. Ten years ago, Esmerelle Vollen retired from service and migrated there. Since then she's had a child, Ny'ren, with an unknown father… and during the battle for West Harbor, Esmerelle was killed by the King of Shadows himself."
She paused, allowing that to sink in. The Big Three didn't blink at the news—apparently they had been informed as she was, probably by that refugee that came from the town. Duncan Farlong. "Esmerelle was a fine woman," Fuller said quietly.
"I've seen her daughter once," Raijin said thoughtfully. "How old is she now? Ten?"
"Too young to be involved in battles and death," Rider said bitterly. "I can't stand it."
Sabrae cleared her throat. "I know, Masters. I think we should send somebody to pick the girl up. She's traumatized, living with a man who's just lost his wife. It's no place for a girl to grow up. I'd like to bring her to live with my brother, where she can have a stable family life. We owe it to Esmerelle."
Post-mortem payment. She shook the thought aside. It was what she would want for her children.
"You want our permission to adopt the child of a former Nighthawk," Abigail said. "Now there's something I've never seen before. Why are you asking us? It's not even your personal life—it's your brother's, and it's Ny'ren's."
"I need opinions."
Fuller frowned and glanced over at Yuda. "Do you agree with this?"
Yuda nodded. "War is no place for a child."
"Rider?"
The elf took a longer time to respond. "No."
The answer surprised them all. They descended into cold silence. Sabrae was outraged: a little girl, ten years old, didn't deserve to be in a rotten, lizard-man infested hole. She was about to open her mouth to object, but Fuller shot her a warning look. The look said, Back off.
She knew enough of her former mentor to listen to him.
"Why?" Raijah asked. He said up a bit straighter, incredulous. "Rider, can't you see—"
"Of course I see," Rider snapped. "But Ny'ren is not our concern now, and she would be far safer in the swamps than she would be in Neverwinter City Docks with your brother, Sabrae."
Sabrae turned to Master Fuller. "What about you?" she asked, a note of pleading in her voice. "You've met her, too—"
"My opinion is the same as Rider's," Fuller said quietly. Sabrae swallowed the rebuttal rising in her throat and conceded, sitting back down. "I'm sorry."
Not as sorry as I am, she thought. Not nearly as sorry as I am…
The Council continued their deliberations, but they were much less heated than before. It seemed everybody, including Fuller, was preoccupied over the issue of a ten-year-old girl, far away from their problems and their life, and what she had to be going through.