Disclaimer: Baldur's Gate and its sequels are property of Bioware and Black Isle. Rachel isn't exactly the typical Bhaalspawn lead, but… she takes the same role. Yes, this does follow the basic plotline of Shadows of Amn, and possibly Throne of Bhaal, but it's not exactly identical. I'm mostly writing it to explore a few concepts in my mind, and because there's a couple of scenes near the end that keep bugging me in my head. Read at your own risk…
Chapter One: Escape! Part 1
Rachel groaned as she came to. She desperately wanted to take that back, now, as the cold voice from in front of her acknowledged her awakening, referring to her as the Child of Bhaal.
Confusion warred within her at that moment. She was a her. Yet she felt no warmth of sun apon her skin. Not only that, but the voice had referred to her as a Child of Bhaal. Had the Taint resurfaced? The spirit had promised that it would never again awaken... Had promised that her days of being hunted were over.
A cold certainty came over Rachel then as she remembered that this was not the first time she had woken since she had left the forest and the sun had gone out. She remembered what was coming next... the muttering broke into her consciousness and she hauled herself to a standing position. She allowed her eyes to crack open and saw the powerfully built man in front of her. He wore a close-fitting leather hood that left his face bare and broad, padded shoulder pads and chest armour. Rachel felt the tugging at the edges of her perception that indicated a spell was being wrought, but had only just opened her mouth to counter it when the pain arced through her, worse than when she had suffered the effects of Nybor's Gentle Reminder at the hands of the red wizard, Odesseiron.
Rachel screamed until she had no more breath to scream with. The pain stopped a moment later, and she slumped forwards, damp locks of her grey hair coming into view. Her slight frame shuddered, and she felt the pricking of tears in her eyes as she had a moment to catch her breath. Looking up at her tormentor from under her bangs, she felt around for the power within her – the power that had nothing to do with either spellsong or her dead father. She found it and pulled it forth with mental hands, meeting the man's dead blue eyes with her own soulful green and letting the power arc between them. She felt herself brush his mind... and was thrown back, the power her fey ancestry bestowed on her ineffectual against the fortress that was his mind.
"You cannot charm me, godchild. You have much power, but it is locked away. Why do you resist? What is it within you that drives you to suffer so much rather than embrace yourself?" His voice was as cold as his eyes. There was no compassion, no emotion. Not even hatred or curiosity. Rachel tried to reply, but lacked the strength after her attempt. The man did not wait for a reply in any case, simple moving his hands and chanting to send another wave of pain through her body. Again, Rachel screamed... A gravelly voice bidding the 'master' to attend intruders was the last she was aware of before it all faded, blessed darkness erasing the cruel reality that was this dungeon in which her ungilded cage hung.
The next time she was aware, she was not alone. A hand shook her from her refuge and she opened her eyes to look at the one seeking to wake her. A girl's face. Pink, chin-length hair falling in a curtain around them... a name a moment later. Imoen.
"Rachel, wake up, damn you! We've got to get out of here! Wake UP!" The voice was harsh, there was something different about it. It was no longer filled with youthful exuberance, as it should have been. There was something seriously wrong with the world when Imoen's voice was a cruel whisper.
Rachel's response was a simple groan as she tried to sit up. Her throat was sore and her head was killing her. Most of her body ached for that matter, as though remembering the pain of the mage's experiments. She gave Imoen a narrow-eyed glare as the girl helped her to stand.
"Don't look at me like that. The pain's on the inside, like knives inside your bones... You just have to bear with it."
"Wh.. where's..?" Rachel's voice was an almost inaudible croak, and Imoen put her finger over the faerie girl's lips to hush her.
"Later. We must get away from this place... can you stand?" Rachel nodded and stood up straight. Not that it gained her much height. The human thief was taller than her by at least a head. Rachel still hurt all over, but at least she was starting to be able to think. Her throat was too raw still to sing any but the most basic spells, and with her limbs as leaden as they were there was no chance of dancing to call her magic. Healing would have to wait. Fighting even longer. She prayed to Hoar and Tymora that they would not need to fight.
"There's some equipment in a room in the corner... not our stuff, but it'll have to do. There's another potion there. It should get you well enough on your feet to get us out of there." Imoen lead the way between cages, and Rachel hardly noticed their occupants – all of which were unmoving, either dead or otherwise incapable. She barely registered Imoen opening a door in front of them and leading them into a small room. She hardly noticed as Imoen took a flask from a chest and unstoppered it, pressing it into her hands.
She came back to herself when she realised that Imoen was waiting for her to drink the potion, and she did so, closing her eyes in blessed relief as it soothed her throat and painful limbs. She felt almost normal again. The potion had been powerful, a true restorative that had probably cost their captor a large part of his accumulated wealth. She grinned at the thought of paying him back, even in this small way.
"Rachel..." She heard Imoen's voice breaking into her encroaching daydream. "Your teeth..." Rachel blinked, and ran her tongue over her teeth. They had been growing again, she realised, and she willed them to return to their normal size and shape. Slowly – too slowly – her fangs shrunk to their normal size. "I thought you had your taint sealed!" Imoen's voice was almost accusatory, as though she believed Rachel had lied to her.
"I did... Something's broken the seal. I think it might have been the mage who's kept us here... Where are the others?"
The look in Imoen's haunted eyes shattered any elation Rachel had been feeling at their escape. "Imoen? What's wrong..?"
"J... Jaheira, Khalid... Dynaheir... they're dead, Rachel. That's just the ones I know about. I haven't seen Minsc or Xan..." Imoen looked down, unable to hold the Feytouched Blade's eyes. Her voice was starting to break, and Rachel stepped towards her, embracing the young thief and stroking her hair.
"Ssh... Imoen... there wasn't anything you could do. We'll find Minsc and Xan, and we'll get out of here. Together, the four of us... then we'll make this wizard pay. Okay? We'll make him pay for their lives." She took Imoen's shoulders and leaned her back so that she could look into her eyes, and the other girl nodded, blinking away the wetness there.
"There's some weapons here... and armour. We should... we should take some for Minsc and Xan, if we see them..." Imoen passed Rachel a leather jerkin, which the bard pulled on and adjusted before accepting the thigh and bicep pads that strapped on over what was left of her clothes. The loose, earth-coloured trousers and green, blousy shirt had definitely seen better days, but would do well enough to stop the armour chafing. Next came a pair of scabbards and the shortswords to go in them. Her beloved Songs were nowhere to be seen, but she would have to make do. Similarly, the dagger that followed them was not the blade she had carried into her brother Sarevok's lady's chambers mere days before Imoen's group had attacked the Iron Throne's citadel. She would sorely miss the blade that had killed Tomoko. She would have preferred a shortbow to finish her armament, but there was no such weapon to be found. She contented herself with a two-handed blade slightly less than her own height, which she sheathed across her back for Minsc to use when they found him. Finally, she looked to Imoen, who had a longsword sheathed in the same way and a second dagger strapped into a wrist sheath. Something seemed off when she looked at the girl – the first time she had met her, she had worn leather armour. There was another set in the chest, which she was packing into a backpack that was also there, but she did not don it.
"Xans been teaching me... remember?" Imoen had caught her staring, and sussed the reason. "Unlike you, I can't cast spells with armour on. It gets in the way of wiggling my fingers." The girl was regaining some of her mischievous spirit, evidently, as she wiggled her fingers at mock-threateningly, then sighed. "You know, he'll never forgive me if I don't find his Moonblade for him. My doom will be most certainly assured." The last part was such a perfect imitation of the elf's terminally bored voice that they both dissolved into a giggling fit at the absurdity of a lecture on doom in this Lathander-forsaken hole.
A sound of rock moving against rock brought them both back to reality as one of the walls of the room scratched its shoulder. Somehow, they had both missed the enormous golem standing at one end of the room.
+++ RETURN TO YOUR CELLS. THE MASTER DECREES IT +++
The golem's voice was abrupt, it's tone clipped, and it seemed to be talking at least partially on a mental level. Both girls jumped nearly out of their skins. Rachel took a flying leap of logic and turned to the roughly humanoid figure.
"You can speak! Tell me, who is the master?"
+++ I AM NOT PERMITTED TO SPEAK WITH PRISONERS. RETURN TO YOUR CELLS. +++
Imoen shrugged when Rachel glanced at her, and they both turned back to the cell room. It wasn't like there was another door out of the small room anyway.
They continued through the cell room, as the store was not at the end. Just before they reached the far wall, a voice called to them.
"Imoen! And Rachel too! Surely you are here to be Minsc's salvation once again!" Rachel grimaced, but hid it quickly and turned to the huge berserker, who, rather than being in a cage was hanging cruciform from the wall.
"Damn, not taking any chances, was he?" she muttered, before pursing her lips to whistle a spell. The irons, however, did not unlock.
"The manacles are smithed together, such was the cowardly wizard's fear of Minsc's righteous wrath!" the deranged ranger laughed, and Imoen rolled her eyes.
"You could have said that before I tried to unlock them." Rachel muttered, before whistling a different tune. The harmless notes took on deadly, shattering force as she reinforced them with magic. A smashing sound accompanied the sudden disintegration of the manacles, the crystalline structure of the refined iron proving as susceptible as glass to the sonic spell's effects. It was certainly easier than taunting the barbarian. Less likely to end up with him killing them both if he didn't realise their real intention, too. Minsc's alarmed exhalation made her realise her mistake – the floor did not go all the way up to the wall. Rather, they were walking on steel gantries over an apparently bottomless pit. Fortunately, he didn't fall that far, one huge, meaty hand grasping the edge of the gantry and arresting his fall.
"Damn. You alright, Minsc?" Imoen muttered, half to herself as the bulky ranger hauled himself back up onto the walkway with his one hand.
"Minsc is well. Boo wishes that Rachel would be more careful when meeting out justice against vile shackles, though. He thinks that the floor is rather too eager to say 'hello'." Well, the Rashemi was making jokes, so he was probably alright… which, Rachel realised with a sinking heart, meant he did not know yet.
"Minsc… I… where is Dynaheir?" She asked, as Imoen unpacked the leather armour again and passed it to Minsc, who paused in donning it.
"They… oh, Dynaheir… Minsc has failed you. My witch is dead, and Minsc can never return to Rasheman. Minsc is no man, and Boo is no hamster…" he sat down, rather abruptly, and tears started for form in his eyes. Suddenly, he stopped and blinked them away. "No. Minsc will have vengeance. Vengeance for Dynaheir! Minsc and Boo will make this mage pay!" Standing, he finished adjusting the armour for his large frame, and put out a hand towards Rachel, looking at her candidly. With a solemn nod, she took the two-handed sword from across her back and placed it's scabbard in Minsc's hand. In the ranger's grip, it did not look quite so ridiculously large – though it was still over five feet long. He slung the weapon over his shoulder and buckled the straps around his torso, before taking a step back and taking up a stance with one knee bent, the foot under him, the other slightly out forwards. One hand forward for balance, the other went to the hilt of the sword poking above his shoulder. With a yell, he snatched the sword from the scabbard, brought it down forward one-handed and span the blade through a full circle before catching the bottom part of the hilt with his other hand, the sword held in front of him a little forward of vertical. He stood straight again, nodded to himself, and sheathed the sword.
"It is a good blade. Boo thinks that it is better than the one from Nashkel." He smiled at Rachel, and she quirked a grin back.
"Lets go, tough guy." As she turned to walk out, she primly swatted Imoen on the back of the head as the younger girl rolled her eyes.
"Ow! Whassat for?!" the thief cried, running to catch up. As Minsc followed, only he heard the slight chattering from his hamster that might – had you been in the frame of mind to interpret a hamster's noises as human vocalisations – have been laughter.
"Flirting with the help." Rachel's reply was met with good-natured grumbles.
As they made their way through the cell area, they came to a stone wall. It was as though the cells were built out over a pit, and they had reached the edge of it. Fortunately, the wall had a door in it where the gantry met it. Oddly, the metal walkway melded into the rock as though they were grown from the same substance. Magic, Rachel surmised, which fit with what she'd seen of their captor so far.
As they continued along the passage, crackling lightning alerted them to the presence of a possible threat ahead. As one, the group stopped moving and drew their weapons, melting into the shadows. If they could come upon their enemy unawares, it would be a great balancer in the fight – especially if there were more than one enemy, or it were the mage. Creeping forward, Rachel saw what was generating the noise. A metal statue about twice as tall as Imoen formed of four arcing beams stood in the middle of the room, lightning crackling inside the cage they formed. It was strangely beautiful. Suddenly, a spark flared into the air and a small imp-like creature appeared out of it, then another.
Mephits. The machine was somehow channelling the energy of the quasi-elemental planes of positive and negative energy – the planes of Light and Shadow – and using them to ionise the air and create para-elemental creatures. In this case, Lightning Mephits. Rachel had heard it were possible, but she'd never imagined to see it working. Suddenly, one of the Mephits noticed Minsc and flitted over to investigate.
Minsc was not a man known to panic, but something must have caused him to strike the Mephit with the flat of his blade rather than the edge, for it screamed and spat lightning. This had the double effect of angering the ranger and alerting the other Mephits to their presence. Rachel sighed.
"Imoen, find a was to disable that machine! Minsc, I'm your second." She called out, and span her blades into a ready position, making an acrobatic leap towards the Ranger. She saw the thief moving out of the corner of her eye, and her sword flickered out to behead a Mephit heading for her. She heard Minsc's battle cry and finished her jump by somersaulting to bring both swords down onto a Mephit trying to claw his back.
Minsc swung his greatsword from left to right, the flat side of the blade catching the air and causing a shockwave to knock the Mephits in front of him tumbling, then leapt forward with a yell to cleave first one, then another apart with huge, sweeping strokes. Rachel rolled under a Mephit and stood back-to-back with the Ranger, her twin swords spinning again to deflect three claws and sever the arms they were attached to. She summoned her magic, let it flow into her throat, and let out a powerful War Cry, frightening the Mephits with it's magic and stunning them with it's ferocity. She heard Minsc laughing as the spell's secondary effect infused him with fighting spirit beyond even his normal abilities, but couldn't turn to see how he was doing as she had to deal with the Mephits that had not succumbed to her spell.
Suddenly, the machine stopped it's humming and the light it had cast faded, leaving the room in a shadowed half-gloom.
"Mortshaw! Arlia… Tetto!" She heard Imoen chant, and bolts of pink energy shot from over her head to strike a Mephit that was recovering from the spell. With no more Mephits appearing, those that remained were easily finished. Spinning her blades on last time to clear imaginary blood from them by habit – Mephits, being para-elementals, do not bleed – Rachel sheathed them and turned to see that the others had done the same.
"Imoen… when did you have time to study your spell book?" Rachel asked, and the thief shook her head.
"Some questions are best left unanswered." Was the cryptic reply.
"This isn't one of them." Rachel advised, and Imoen sighed.
"They were left over from before he captured us… that's why I didn't try to spring my lock sooner, I had to recover enough to concentrate without losing them."
Finding Imoen's answer satisfactory, Rachel nodded. By unspoken consent, they moved on along the passage, not able to help wondering what would hit them next. As they entered a room bedecked with blood-red crystals and pools of crystal-clear water, a booming laugh interrupted them.
"Ah, Rachel. You've escaped rather later than I would have hoped…" Rachel groaned as a mote appeared on the floor, then spiralled up to reveal the form of a genie. More air elementals. At least this one wasn't entirely unknown to her… though whether it was hostile was always in question.
"Ataqah. How… pleasant to see you again." She replied, managing to keep most of the exasperation from her voice. "Just so you know, I've been imprisoned, tortured, attacked by Mephits, and almost killed one of my friends today. I'm really not in the mood for your crap."
"Oh, come now, Rachel… that's no way to speak to the one who rescued you from the Caliph's dungeons and set you up with the means to kill him and complete your mission, is it?" The genie had the grace to look hurt. Rachel just put her hand over her face and dragged it down.
"It is the way to talk to the one who got me thrown in those damn dungeons in the first place, though." She replied. "What do you want, Ataqah? I have some escaping to do." The genie just chuckled.
"Alright. I will keep this quick. I have no less wish to remain here any longer than you… First, a Dilemma. Then, I may help you… for this place grows on me no more with the aging of it's wards. Here is the question I put to you: Both you and your sibling are each in a cage. In your cages there are buttons. If you press button, you know that your sibling will die but you will walk free. If you do not, you will both go free. However, your sibling has the same choice… the same button, though it is you who shall die. If you both press the button, both will die." The noble elemental paused, but Rachel knew that it was more for dramatic tension than because he was thinking. "So. Do you press the button?"
"Of course." Rachel replies. "My brother was an evil bastard, remember? The world is better off without him."
"I never said that Sarevok was the sibling in the other cage… You have just sentenced Mornan Tybalt, a simple cloth merchant, to death at the hands of the mob who will discover his identity in three months time. Perhaps next time you are asked a question, you will think more carefully on it's wording." The genie laughed again, and Rachel felt it's presence starting to grate on her nerves.
"Oh, for… you're a sick, sick creature Ataqah." Imoen's voice piped up. She hadn't encountered the genie before, but already wanted to slit it's throat. Then she shuddered as she was overcome with images of bloody death and violence. Part of her, though… part of her enjoyed the idea of dismembering this genie.
"Hah! That I am, little girl. Rachel, you really must keep picking up these children to follow you. They are almost as amusing as you are!" Ataqah boomed out, and Rachel groaned again.
"Don't you do anything quietly?" She hissed, nearly at the end of her tether. "Just give us this help or screw off."
"Ah, well. While watching you lose your temper is bound to be entertaining, I doubt I would survive it even with those shards of iron as your only weapons. Here is the help I give you: Seek out Rielev and my kinsman, bound here to a magic lamp. Both can aid you. Whether you are canny enough to use their help, I cannot say." With that, he did exactly as told – in the same manner as he had arrived, his form corkscrewed down into a mote, which then vanished. Rachel punched one of the crystals with her fist, and it shattered.
"That Djinni is so Bhaal-damned infuriating!" she growled, and her companions looked at her, concerned and a little scared. They'd seen what she could do in a rage, and it wasn't pretty. Rachel took a couple of deep breaths, and stood up again.
"We may as well take his advice… though it would've been nice if he'd given us some decent equipment. Remember that dagger I used to carry? It was his until I stole it from his belt. That's what he meant when he said he "set me up with the means to complete my mission." Arrogant bastard." Suddenly, she was businesslike. "Come on, lets go find this Rielev." She led the way down the next passage, then dodged sideways as an arrow flew through the point her head had been. As it flashed past, she saw the patterning on the shaft and fletching, then watched it wobble in the air and flip over to strike Minsc's chest side-on. The next thing she heard made her laugh at herself. She'd been worried for a moment that the arrow had been launched by the Dwarves who's workmanship had gone into it, but the voice was that of a goblin. She turned back to the passage and saw that a group of the critters had dropped onto it from ambush points.
Looking at them, she drew her hands back and drew in breath… then threw her hands forward and up, yelling the word:
"BOO!"
The goblins blinked, and one of them at the back screamed in terror. She wiggled her fingers like a monster, and a moment later, they turned around and fled. When they were gone, Imoen giggled.
"What was that spell? I don't think I've seen you use it before." The thief asked, and it was Rachel's turn to laugh.
"Spell? I just waved my arms and yelled at them. Goblins are cowards at heart. You don't think I can be scary?" Rachel replied, and Imoen looked shifty for a moment.
"Er… no, not at all." She hid behind Minsc. "Please don't kill me." She finished in a small voice. Rachel facepalmed and shook her head, before continuing on. They came to a four-way junction, and Rachel chose the right-hand path. She opened the door, saw the golem, and closed the door again.
"Not that way." She said, and they tried the left-hand door. It opened onto a room with a lot of glass containers, but they all appeared to be offline and there wasn't anything of interest in there except for a Dust Mephit, quickly despatched after it's breath attack was absorbed by Minsc's broad chest. Returning to the passage, they took the main path. It turned right almost immediately, ended in another door. There was a side-passage on the left, and another door, but Rachel ignored them for the moment to try the door on the end. It opened easily to reveal another glass bottle – and something far more valuable, as far as she was concerned. On the table by the tank lay an ornate longsword and a ward-stone of some kind. She approached the table, but jumped nearly out of her skin as a shadowed human figure came to rest against the edge of the glass.
"Master! Is that you master? Please, take pity…" a dry, male voice filled with suffering asked from the tank, and Rachel stopped, turning back towards the tank. Xan's sword could wait.
"I'm not your master… are you Rielev?" she asked, moving closer.
"Yes… yes, Rielev… that was my name… then you are prisoners… please, hurry to escape this place. I am not so far gone as to forget what the master does to prisoners who escape…"
"I was told to seek you out for aid in that."
"The cells… yes. The cells that power my prison of eternal life.. take them, and use them in the glass room."
"Won't that kill you?" Rachel asked, concern touching her voice for this creature who wanted to help.
"Yes… I.. I no longer wish to come back! Please, take the cells and release me… Grant me my oblivion." Rachel nodded and knelt by the bottle, reaching underneath to remove the lead-acid battery that was powering the life support tank. Careful not to spill the acid from it's open top, she took the power cell and placed it on the table, next to the sword. Taking the sword, she sheathed it across her back as she had Minsc's greatsword – though she didn't try to draw this blade. It would bite her if she did. Having nearly lost a hand to the thing once, she wasn't going to take any chances. Pocketing the Ward stone, she turned her attentions to the box of acid and metal. It would hard to transport as it was… she decided that magic was the best idea.
"Imoen? I could use some help with this… you think you could levitate it to where we need it?" She asked the thief-mage, who came over to take a look. "It's quite heavy… but it needs to be kept level, and I don't like the idea of carrying that much Zayt al-Zaj around in my hands."
"Sure. Shouldn't be a problem.. hm, that's lead, right..?" she peered at the metal, though she was wise enough not to poke it. Stepping back, she murmured a few words, and a disk of energy appeared in the air before her. "Lift it up a bit?" She asked, and Rachel complied with a grunt. She would have asked Minsc to do it, but the Ranger probably wasn't smart enough to realise how dangerous the liquid was. A slight whisper of sound indicated the disk slipping under the battery, and she put it down gently. The disk rose into the air, carrying the battery with it, and Imoen grinned.
"Tenser's Floating Disk. Xan wasn't happy when he found I'd learned it, though… You know what he's like with Evocations. I still remember the arguments he had with.. with Dynaheir." Rachel nodded, and they headed back out into the corridor, realising it was painful for Imoen to remember her dead Evocation teacher.
"Minsc, will you scout ahead a little? I want to see what those other jars can tell me." The big man nodded, and melted back into the shadows, taking a Longbow that one of the goblins had dropped in it's panic. He didn't have any arrows yet, but he hoped to find a store-room of some kind.
Imoen and Rachel proceeded back to the room with the glass jars. After a moments deliberation, they slid the cells under the middle jar, which was connected to all the others…
A short while later, they left the room again, thoroughly disgusted. They'd found out that their captor was an evil, sadistic maniac focused on revenge and eternal life, but beyond that there really wasn't anything to be learned. They rejoined Minsc, who reported that there was a library up ahead, defended by two more Mephits and a man with golden, metallic skin and perfectly controlled hair, but apparently human.
"Some kind of Touched, maybe?" Imoen asked as they moved towards the library. They'd left the power cells in the glass room, as there probably wasn't going to be another need for them.
"It's possible. He might be Axani. What's more important is that he might have answers. Minsc, try not to kill him, will you?" The ranger just shrugged, then nodded.
"Minsc will let this evil live a little longer, for Rachel's sake." He didn't sound very happy about the idea, though. He raised his boot and kicked in the door, leading the charge against one of the Mephits. A single, vertical slash of his greatsword ended the small, flying para-elemental's thread. Imoen's mage-bolt took off the other's wing, and her dagger finished it's life as she threw it.
Rachel closed on the Axani – for that was what he was, a Planetouched with the blood of a creature of Nirvana, Plane of Law – and found her blades repulsed by his very aura as a warding appeared around him. It's effects were similar to those of a Protection from Evil spell, but targeted instead towards creatures of Chaos. Unfortunately all three members of the party fell into that category, being chaotic by nature if not blood, and Rachel especially so. Her charms wouldn't work on the man, and it was an incredible effort to just get close enough to cut him with the tip of her blade. Touching him was completely out of the question.
The Axani drew a dagger, scowling at them.
"Why have you come to this place? Do you stand with the hooded thieves? My contract here has yet to expire, so I am afraid I must end you. My apologies." With that, the lawtouched human leapt forwards with the knife. He was deflected by a shortsword, but swayed out of the way when the other came towards his neck, flat-on. His shield negated the benefit Rachel's longer reach gave her, and his skill with his single blade was more than enough to even out her dual-wielding abilities. A globe of purple energy splashed off his shield as Imoen attempted to use a treatise on Halruua to power her magic missile – Rachel made a mental note to ask her about that, later – and Minsc was blasted back as his Greatsword rebounded off a Stoneskin enchantment that contingently triggered as he swung.
With both her companions unable to help, Rachel realised that she had to do this alone, and with a sinking feeling understood that she couldn't beat this planar warrior with straight-up swordsmanship. The futility of magic also demonstrated itself as she whistled a tune that should have battered her enemy with sonic waves to find the spell rebuked by his shield.
"Who are you to serve this mage? Why do you force yourself to fight when it's clear that you don't wish to harm us?" She asked, ducking an underhand slash from the dagger.
"It is in my contract. My name is Jules Therin. I am a mercenary under contract to the Mage Lord Irenicus. And now, I recognise you." He feinted with the dagger, before back-flipping away. His foot trailed behind him, his shoe striking Rachel under the chin as she threw herself away, and she was knocked to her back. Rolling, she stood in a crouch, her swords spinning up in time to catch his knife between the blades.
"You recognise me?" She asked, holding the knife there with careful pressure.
"Indeed. You are the one I was despatched to capture not a tenday ago." Came the reply as the merc pressed down. He brought his other hand to the dagger's hilt, applying more pressure to her swords.
"So, it's you I have to thank for being here." Rachel growled, and pushed back. The Axani was stronger, though, and all that kept her from death was the extra power her stance gave. Rachel felt the hatred bubbling up inside her, the desire to kill and kill… the Bhaal taint she had worked so long to seal unleashed in a few days by a mad mage. She realised, however, that this Axani was not only stronger than her, but more skilled, and if the battle went on any longer she would be joining her sibling in the grave.
"Surrender to me and I will not have to kill you." Jules told her. "Return to your cells and await my employer's return."
"On the other hand… you could surrender and save us both the trouble." Rachel taunted back.
"Rich words from one at a disadvantage. I would that I could heed them, but I will not break my contract."
"Then… that is enough." Rachel stared into his eyes, and called upon the darkness. She allowed the anger to take over and give her power… Not the chaos-life energy of her Fey heritage, but the hot-blooded rage and strength of Bhaal, God of Murder. The strength flowed into her arms and legs, and she stood, forcing the Axani's blade away as the yellow fires flared up in her eyes. There was not a flicker of reaction in her opponent's golden orbs, but his mouth set into a harder line as he prepared to fight for real.
Jumping back, he broke the weapon-lock, before coming in low and fast to gut her. Rachel watched him come as though in slow motion, knocking away his arm with the blade of her left sword, severing the arteries and tendons in his wrist and rendering the limb useless. Her knee rose up to strike him under the chin, and his head snapped up and back.
The last thing Jules Therin was aware of was the sight of a shortsword arcing towards his face as demonic laughter echoed in his ears.
The first thing Rachel was aware of was Minsc holding her arms still while she strained towards Imoen. Even with Rachel drawing on the Bhaal-strength, it seemed, Minsc was the stronger of the two. Rachel did not regret this fact. For her part, Imoen looked terrified, but seemed to be calming down now that the gold had gone out of her friend's eyes.
"R.. Rachel, is that you now..?" she stammered, then sighed in relief when the fey girl nodded. "It's... it's back, isn't it? Your taint... it's not sealed any more, is it?"
"No. It's not. I'm sorry, Imoen..." She sighed, looking down. "You can let go, now, Minsc... Imoen, you know that I would never hurt you myself..."
"You say that, but... every time you use that power, you try to kill me... it's hard to have faith..." Rachel wanted to go and hug her, but knew that it wouldn't help at that moment. If only Jaheira were there to do what she could not... but then, the acerbic half-elf would possibly be too busy lecturing Rachel on giving in again.
"I know, Im... One day, I'll make it up to you, I promise. Even if I have to die," she tried again, but the girl just shook her head.
"No... it's fine. You'll just have to learn to remain in control while using the power. It has to be possible. Lets.. lets just move on."
Rachel nodded, and looked at the options. A path lead off to the right, by her guess heading back towards the cells, and another went left, towards what sounded like a forge. It was somewhat surprising that nothing had come from that passage to investigate… Erring on the side of caution, she lead them down the right-hand passage and pushed the door open carefully. Even so, she wasn't ready for the huge, squid like tentacle that wrapped immediately around her waist, yanking her into the room with disorienting speed. When the world stopped spinning, she saw her attacker for a moment before pain flared through her body as the tentacle constricted. The monster was a large, low body on three stumpy legs. It didn't appear to have any eyes, but the whole front of its body was a huge mouth. Another tentacle came from the other side of the body, and this lashed at the two still in the corridor. Fortunately, it was too far for the pseudopod to grasp either of them for the moment. Rachel struggled in the tentacle's grip, trying to break free. If she didn't soon, then it would break ribs at the least. She'd dropped her swords when the tentacle grabbed her, and the dagger in her belt was trapped beneath the coils. She didn't have the breath to cast anything either…
As the world started to darken, she heard a wild battle cry as Minsc charged into the chamber, and suddenly she was falling, the tentacle loosening around her as she hit the ground, cushioning her fall before exploding in a mess of goo. Gasping for breath, she saw that the reason was clear – Minsc had chopped the limb from the monsters' body. It bellowed in pain and rage before lunging forward with its mouth open to try and engulf the warrior. Fortunately, though, Minsc was too experienced a monster slayer for that, and he simply set his sword, driving it up into the creature's mouth. Even so, it bore him to the ground before starting to rapidly dissolve into black gunk.
"Was… was that an Otyugh..?" Imoen asked, coming forward into the room. "I've heard of them, but… I've never heard it said that they dissolve when they die. Or smell so much…"
"Otyughs feed off filth, so they do smell pretty bad… but no, they don't normally dissolve." Rachel replied as Minsc cleaned his sword. Both the bard and ranger were covered in black goo by now, and Rachel didn't want to think about what would happen if some of it got into them through a cut or wound. "Lets just move on… I want to get this gunk off me as soon as I can." The others agreed as she retrieved her shortswords.
"Wait… you two go ahead, I'm going to try and open those." Imoen indicated some chests on the far side of the room, under the short staircase that lead up to a door on the edge of the Otyugh's pit.
"Make sure they're not trapped, okay?" Rachel told her, moving up the steps. She didn't see Imoen rolling her eyes behind her back.
"Yes, mother." Was the impish reply.
Rachel wasn't having much luck with doors today, it seemed. When this one opened, she had to duck quickly to avoid an arrow that flashed past her and stuck in the wall between some cracks in the stonework on the other side of the large chamber. More goblins. Grimacing to hide her bloodlust, Rachel went to work, blades flashing. Killing was always easier after drawing on the power, even when the supernatural strength had faded. The goblins did not last long.
As she stepped through the door at the other end of the corridor the goblins had been guarding, she found herself in what looked like it must be the mage's bedroom. Rachel would have searched it thoroughly – if it were not for the strong scent that reached her nose mere moments after entering the room. The scent of trees, of life and nature. It drew her on, past the room, past the door to the left and into the room just beyond a glass door. Immediately she was hit by the hot mugginess of a greenhouse and was forced to lift a hand to brush a broad leaf away from her path. A soft gasp of pain from ahead drove her to take a few running steps forward, Imoen in the Otyugh-chamber and Minsc, who had remained in the bedroom, forgotten. What she saw tore her heart in two.
Three dryads were trapped in barbed vines, naked and cruelly posed in lavicious stances by the green-and-brown ropes that held them. Thorns, shaped more like fangs, pierced the skin of all three where the vines held them. Even as she watched, one of the vines moved slightly, ripping at the leftmost Dryad's skin and forcing another pained gasp from her lips as it altered her pose slightly.
"Help us, sister..." The middle one begged, lifting her head to gaze at Rachel imploringly, but when she made a move to step forward she glanced down and saw another of the fanged vines move inches from her foot. She took a step backward and looked up at the Dryads.
"How..? I cannot approach or the vines will attack me, too." She asked, her voice cracking with emotion. These three were creatures of life – sacred beings that should be treated with respect, not strung up like whores.
"Our acorns... Irenicus has corrupted our trees into this... but if you can find our acorns... and take them to a sacred grove... we can abandon these twisted oaks and begin anew." The dryad's words were cut off with a pained cry as the vines grew tighter, cutting off her air. The three were immortal, unable to die until their trees expired, and if he returned to this place Irenicus could prolongue their torment indefinitly by replanting and recorrupting the saplings.
"He has given them to Illych, clanhead of his Duergar slaves..." The Dryad on the right spoke, then was interrupted by a vine curling around her face to settle between her lips, one barbed thorn angled down to pierce her tongue should she try and speak again.
"Find... find the genie's lamp and key in the room to the south, but 'ware the guardian traps." The leftmost Dryad managed before a vine wrapped her throat.
"Thankyou... I will do this for you, sisters... please, do not give in... Be strong." Rachel whispered, looking at the three before skirting around their trap to move south. Presently, she found another pair of glass doors which then opened to reveal a room that did not belong in this dank, tormented dungeon. Rachel sheathed her swords as she entered the room, looking around. A soft bed stood along one quarter of the circular room, opposite the door. A large painting hugged the wall above it, showing a peaceful lakeside scene with huge, ancient trees all around. A beautiful elven woman with long, blonde hair knelt at the edge of the lake with one hand in the water. A picture carousel stood on a low bureaux, the candle inside unlit, next to a purple oil lamp similar to one she'd last seen in the caliph's palace in Calimsham. A table was pushed against the wall, a pair of oil lamps in the shape of the same trees from the painting standing atop it. A crystal statue of an air elemental also sat on the desk, as though watching the room. The white walls gave the room a light, airy feel despite its underground location, and the rug on the floor showed a hunting scene. Everything about the room exuded a feeling of folorn peace, as though for something precious lost, never to be regained. Rachel took a step forward, and a bell rang once making Rachel step back in surprise. A moment later, a cage slammed down over the place she had been standing only seconds before, and two statues of elven warriors armed with spear and shield stepped from alcoves either side of the door, where they had been hidden by the door itself. A moment later the glass door behind her opened, the sound of heavy breathing making her whirl around to see the new threat...
It was Minsc, with his greatsword out. With the cage in the way and the doorway barely wide enough for one person, there was no space to swing the huge weapon. That didn't stop the huge warrior as he barged past Rachel, bringing the two-handed weapon up over his head until it grazed off the ceiling and then bringing it down in a verticle swing, straight onto the marble shield of the stone golem to the right. The shield held, but the Golem was forced back a step. As it put its foot down, a line of three spikes fell from the ceiling to smash fragments of stone off the golem. Minsc pressed the attack, forcing the Golem back against the spikes that pinned it and pounding with the pommel of his sword. His first blow had shown him that the blade would not scratch their rocky hide. Rachel leapt forward a moment lated, swords cutting from their scabbards to parry the spear that the second Guardian was attempting to spit the Rashemi on. Pitting her muscles against the magical might of the Guardian, she managed to force the spear back up and round. Though the rest of the golem was stone, the spear was wooden hafted, and between the stone elf and the living fey, it was the wood that gave with a splintering crack.
On second thoughs, Rachel decided as she ducked a marble shield-bash, that wasn't such a good thing. Minsc was trading blows with the first Guardian, using the flat of his blade to bludgeon it, though it didn't seem to be doing much damage back. Still, the berserker-ranger was tough. It would take a lot to make him even pause. Rachel, on the other hand, was far more fragile – the one time she regretted her fey heritage was when things were trying to kill her, for it made her frail. She ducked another swing, and felt the warm glass at her back. The next strike shattered the glass, pushing her through with the flat of the shield, and she rolled back to her feet. Suddenly, she felt something curling about her foot and realised that it was the corrupted oak's vines. Moving her foot quickly to avoid being trapped, she sheathed her swords once more and looked at the golem moving towards her. Slipping into a lower stance, she watched as it approached then ducked sideways as it shield-charged her, giving it a shove and sending it falling into the outermost reaches of the vine trap. It was engulfed in moments, the fanged thorns driving through the stone as though it were paper, and setting to their vile work.
The oak had been altered to grow vines instead of branches, and the thorns drained life-energy from whatever they pierced. For the Fey Dryads, as for the Golem, life-energy was analogous to magic. However, where the Dryads' energy was fed back into them by the oak itself, the Golem had no such benefit. Within moments, it was reduced to being a simple statue, and then crushed. The Dryads groaned in pain as the vines wreathing them tightened in sympathy, sending a pang of guilt through the Blade who had caused it.
She moved on, however, returning to the room. Minsc had backed the other stone warrior into a corner, and was beating it repeatedly over the head with it's own shield. Even as she watched, the marble warriors' struggles ceased, its magic failing. Looking around the rest of the room, the fey girl winced at the destruction. It seemed that Minsc's battle had raged across the entire room, triggering every trap in there. A pair of spiked balls on chains hung together from the ceiling, several javelins were on the floor where they'd fallen after being launched at the wall over the desk, and there was a fading wiff of choking gas in the air.
"Minsc..? Are you alright..?" She asked, approaching carefully. The warrior had been known to strike blindly at friends during a rage, sowing indiscriminate destruction. He looked up now, however, and his eyes were clouded with tears.
"Little Boo is hurt. Please, Rachel, you have to help him." The ranger held his hamster out towards her, entreaty in his eyes, and she suppressed a sigh to reach for it. Taking the hamster in her hands, she gently felt along its tiny body. Its back leg was broken, and it seemed to have nearly choked to death on the gas.
"I will do what I can.." Rachel replied, and the ranger stood, watching her carefully. Never one to be put off by an audience, she began to sing softly one of the first spellsongs she had learned, chanelling a tiny spark of magic with it. The hamster's leg re-knit itself, and it came alert once more as she sang. Within minutes, it was moving around almost as good as new. She drew the song of healing to a close and passed the rodent back. "Be careful – don't let him exert himself. He nearly died."
While the ranger was occupied examining his hamster, Rachel took a look at the man himself. Though he was oblivious, there was a nasty gash across one shoulder and several small cuts on his face and arms. Softly, so that he woudln't notice, she put her hands on his shoulder and reached inside herself, forcing the bhaal-power against its will into shapes that had little to do with death or pain. Instead, she chanelled the energy to heal the injuries, much as a cleric might channel the power of her god. Leery of the possibility of more traps, Rachel decided to wait upon checking the drawers.
"Minsc, could you please go back to the room with the Otyugh and fetch Imoen? Minsc, find Imoen." she asked, then moved over to examine the air elemental statue as he hurried off to do as she'd asked. The poor ranger wasn't very bright, and often needed instructions repeating before he understood them.
The statue was oddly unharmed, though from how they lay one of the spears from the trap must have struck it. Rachel focused for a moment, allowing her mage-sight to slip over her vision, then was forced to slam her eyes shut as the statuette nearly blinded her. It was enchanted, all right. She reached towards it, when a voice interrupted her.
"Rachel, wait!" Imoen called. "It's on a pressure plate in the table." Rachel cursed, lightly, and pulled her hand back. "Here, let me.." Imoen finished, moving forward with a probe which she slipped under the statuette. "Now, take it." Rachel did so, and the ex thief slipped a small wedge of wood from the shattered spear between the pressure plate and the true top of the desk. Briefly, Rachel wondered where she'd hidden the probe from their captor, but decided that it was one of the questions best left unanswered – like where Boo had hidden, or just why there were padded cuffs dangling from the end of the bed.
"Imoen – check the rest of the room for any other surprises Minsc managed to miss?" Rachel asked, weighing the statue in her hand. It wasn't very heavy – much lighter than it should have been if it was indeed glass crystal. It suggested that the statue was enchanted in some way, and given the iconography and nature of several of the devices in the dungeon, it seemed likely that it held a fragment of the essence of air. Whoever he was, their captor was a master conjurer. Knowing that would hopefully give them some kind of edge, though with their current equipment Rachel wasn't really sure how. Checking the desktop for traps while Imoen checked the drawers, she took the lamp as well. It was likely the genie's lamp the dryads had mentioned.
"Ah! A key!" Imoen's voice crowed, and Rachel looked down at the thief as she took a small golden key from the chest of drawers. "Aand.. hey, isn't this your dagger?" she took the small, straight blade from the drawer and examined it.
"Let me see." Rachel moved over and peered at it. "Yes. You take it, for now, at least until we find you a better one. It'll cut through most things, and send most living creatures it cuts into a stupor."
"Wow, really? You'll let me use it?" Imoen's eyes widened, and Rachel nodded bemused as the girl put it into the wrist sheath, moving the one she already carried to the belt sheath in the drawer and strapping it on.
"Wait, is that your spellbook?" Rachel asked, indicating the tome hanging from the other side of the thief-mage's belt.
"Yep. It was in the mage's bedroom. Guess he wanted to examine it." Imoen grinned and patted the tome. "Lets go, I don't think there's anything else in here. Besides, this place it just too darn creepy. Like it doesn't fit in with the rest of the dungeon."
"It doesn't... it feels like a cemetary. A beautiful memorial for something lost. It's not in keeping with our captor at all."
They looked at each other for a moment before moving to follow Minsc out of the strange room, back through the tormented greenhouse and out into the mage's bedroom. This time, they took the passage to the north, past the strange portal to find a larger room with a strange device in the middle. The device ticked and whirred like the mechanism of some great clock, but no face was in the room. As they moved around the device, they saw its' purpose. Standing inside a globe of force was their wizard, Xan. The elf looked much the same as usual - that is to say, bored to the point of distraction and ready to lay down and die.
He saw them, and seemed to be trying to say something and tapping on the resilient sphere. Rachel looked around for a moment before crossing over to a panel of levers and looking at the elf as she touched one. Suddenly, his countenance changed as he waved his hands negatively and became agitated. Rachel moved her hand to the next lever, and if anything he became even more panicked. The third level achieved a calmer response, but still negative.
Sighing to herself, Rachel pulled the fourth and final lever. The machine whirred to a stop and the globe shattered into shards of glass that dissapeared a moment before hitting the floor or mage.
"Finally, someone got me out of that ridiculous sphere. I was starting to think that I would be there until the day I expired." the enchanter drawled as he walked to Rachel and started unbuckling his sword.
"Excuse me, Xan?" She said, stepping away. "I can do that, thankyou." she finished unbuckling the sword and passed it to him. The purple-robed enchanter buckled the weapon on and immediatly drew it, holding the weapon close and whispering to it. If Rachel hadn't known that the sword was at least partially self-aware, she would have thought the moon elf insane.
"I don't suppose the druid or her husband are here?" Xan asked, looking around, "a pity."
"They're dead." Rachel told him bluntly, and to her disgust he shrugged.
"Ah, well. We're all doomed anyway."
"Sometimes, I don't know why I put up with you, elf." Imoen muttered darkly, earning her a surprised look from Rachel.
"It's not like you to say such things... are you alright?"
"I'll be fine. It's just this place... so much blood and suffering. It gets to you..." The thief shrugged, and Rachel let it go.
"Alright. Xan, you know where to find the duergar?"
"Hardly. Do you think I had nothing better to do than wander around?"
"Point. You were in a forcecage." Rachel chuckled to herself ruefully. "Ah well, lets move on then." she started north again, passing through the doorway and immediatly being forced to turn right to follow the passage. This time, she saw the trap before Imoen and groaned. More pressure plates and spikes.
"Immy?" she called back to where the thief-mage was just leaving the clockwork chamber.
"Yeah, boss?" Imoen replied, moving up. "ah, right. Give me a moment." Rachel stepped back and gave the girl room to work. After a moment, she straightened and nodded. "Kay. It's safe."
Just a little way up the corridor, they found another corner - this one turning left - and a closed door. From the left passage came the sound of a working smithie, but from the door in front the scent of fresh air.
"Lets go to the smithie first, that's where Illych will be." Rachel thought aloud, and the others looked at her oddly.
"What's with wanting to find some dwarf anyway? Why not just escape?" Imoen asked, and Rachel shrugged.
"He has the Dryad's acorns. I promised to free them, so..."
"Ah." Imoen enunciated before moving along the passage. "Let me look.." she reached the end of the corridor and peered through the hatch in the door. Six or seven ugly, grey-skinned dwarves were at work with another standing there directing them - presumably Illych. Moving back, she shook her head.
"We're outnumbered two to one. I don't think we can take them."
"Are you up to a little lifting, then?" Rachel smiled, and Imoen started to get a very bad feeling...
None of the working duergar noticed as the door to their realm opened just wide enough to let the slim thief through. Silently, she moved around the edge of the room, praying silently to the god of masks that the invisibility would hold.
Then she saw where the acorns were and cursed. The dwarf was holding the damn things, tossing them into the air and catching them like a juggler warming up. The only time they left his hand was when he put them into a pouch on his belt to clout one of his juniors on the head or grab a hammer himself, which he only ever did for a few moments. The key would be to replace the bag of acorns with some other, similar objects.
Finally, inspiration hit. Moving around behind him, she took up some small ingots of iron waiting to be smelted. Doubtless they were much heavier than the acorns, but a silenced spell later and they bore the same appearance and feel of power.
Now came the hard part. Standing just behind the dwarf, Imoen's hand snaked out, catching an acorn as it reached the apex of its' flight and dropping one of the disguised iron balls in its place. Three balls later, and she had all of the acorns he was playing with. Then it was simply a matter of replacing the pouch with another one half-full of grinding sand.
Stealing back out of the forge, she smiled and dropped the pouch of acorns into Rachel's hand.
"Job done." She chirped, and Rachel nodded before tying the pouch onto her own belt.
"Great. Now, how do we open this door..?" The blade replied, murmuring the last part as she turned to look at the other portal. "I can't see a keyhole..."
"Here." Xan spoke up, indicating a small depression on a pedestal. "It's marked with the draconic rune for Air. Perhaps a spell trigger or some such..."
"Wait a sec, before you try casting anything." Rachel said as he lifted his hands. Before explaining, she marched over to him and placed the air elemental statue on the depression. The door shimmered, and then vanished. "Thought so." Pausing, she looked at the sweet-smelling opening, finding it odd that she couldn't see what was on the other side. "So, who wants to step into darkness and possibly fall forever?" She asked, lightheartedly. No-one moved, so sighing, she stepped through herself.
The other side surprised her somewhat. Wooden gantries provided walking space, but distant objects floated independantly. Something floated nearby, translucent, and it took her a moment to realise that it was an air elemental like the one the statue had been of. It didn't attack, simply staring at her curiously before turning away and flitting off elsewhere.
"Wow." Imoen's voice behind her made her look around, and she realised that the others had followed her after all. "Is this an elemental plane?" She asked, voice fading into the distance.
"Indeed. This is most definitly the plane of air, apprentice mine." Xan drawled, looking around. "An intriguing place, perhaps fading less rapidly than the prime material."
"Hmm. This may be a way out... but none of us can planeshift, so perhaps not the most desirable one. What can you tell us about it?" Rachel asked, staying alert. The next denizen might not be as benign as the elemental.
"The least dangerous of the four elemental planes. There is no fear of drowning, burning alive or suffocating. Similar to the Astral plane, to move in a direction you must merely imagine yourself travelling that way. However, this strong wind will likely make it difficult to return here if we leave these walkways." The mage spoke carefully, enunciating everything to make sure that he was understood. Non-elves, he'd found, could be so clueless when it came to even the most basic planar knowledge or common sense.
"Thankyou. How about denizens? Anything to be wary of?"
"Elementals, Mephits and varying degrees of genie. The occasional Janni. And planeswalkers, of course. Genies and Janni vary by personality, so the only things likely to attack us on sight are mephits, the odious creatures that they are."
"Like them?" Imoen asked, pointing up the gantry. Ten or twenty of the small, flying creatures were rapidly approaching them.
"Yes, very much like them." Xan said. "Our demise is soon, I feel."
"Shut up and start casting, master." Imoen's sarcastic address made the elf blink, but never the less he turned and started conjuring a web to catch the mephits. At the same time, Imoen drew on her own arcane powers, releasing magic missiles to strike at the swarm indiscriminately. Rachel's spellsong joined their efforts a second later, waves of shattering sonics scattering the creatures.
Minsc simply waited for them to come into reach.
Even without the other three members of their party, the mephits' attack was short-lived, and they were free to move up the gantry. At the far end was a dais, with, mysteriously enough, a wall behind it. On the dais wais a table, and on the table a purple lamp.
"The genie. Ataquah's bound kin." Rachel grinned, then frowned. "A split lamp? That would explain why this one did nothing..." As she approached the lamp, the one she held seemed to pulse in reaction. Reaching out with her free hand, she gently rubbed the lamp on the table. As expected, a cloud of smoke issued forth before coalescing into the well-muscled form of a noble elemental.
"Yes, oh master of the universe?" The genie said, almost sarcastically. "What do you... oh! You're not Irenicus! And you have the lamp-twin! Please, give it to me, so that I can be free!"
"Wait one moment. We met Ataquah. He said that you could help us." Rachel told the genie, who sighed and nodded.
"Indeed, I can, but you cannot blame me for trying. These things I hold are so intriguing, but I suppose they are rightfully yours... and I suppose you want to know how to get out of the master's dungeon?" The genie asked, congenially.
"Heh, no, I can't blame you. A straight trade, then. My items and freedom for yours?" She asked, and he nodded.
"The easiest way to be free for you is to find the master's ladies' key and go to the clockwork chamber. Insert the key in the control panel and use the fourth lever. Step into the circle, and you will be transported to the mortal layer of the dungeon. From there, you can walk out." The genie paused. "And these your items three." Reaching into the lamp, he drew forth a velvet bag six feet long and passed it to Rachel. "The swords that carry your soul."
As he gave her the package, she felt the truth of it. Her skin tingled at the presense so close of her Songs, and at the same time crawled at the presense of a third blade that bore power she knew.
"Thankyou, lord Djinn." She replied, formally, and presented him with the lamp-twin. Taking it, he nodded and bowed before pressing the lamps together. They imploded silently, and he smiled.
"I will remember your name, Rachel Colson." The genie told her before vanishing in much the same way Ataquah had in the crystal chamber.
"But you won't give me yours." She chuckled when he was gone, and opened the velvet package. The first hilt that came to her hand was not one of her Songs. The hilt was decorated with a hideous skull, and spoke of murder to her mind. Drawing forth the blade, she inspected its' length.
"Minsc. I think you should take this. It's a magic sword." She told the ranger, pushing Sarevok's Chaos Blade into his hands. The black leather sheath was decorated in the same way as the hilt with silver skulls and death's head patterns.
"Sarevok's sword? He was a mighty warrior, but so evil! Is his sword not tainted by the foul stain of darkness?" The ranger asked, and she shrugged.
"No, it's just a sword now he's dead. Still a powerful magic item though." She told him, then drew forth her Songs from the bag. Even in their sheaths, she felt their power. Her right-hand sword, Alauna's Song, the Song of Disaster. Even before it had bonded to her, the shortsword has a bad history. Created by Tyche in times long past, the sword held the mortal spirit of a much-abused woman. Tyche, in a moment of conflicted compassion, had set Alauna free in her double-edged way, seperating her mortal soul from her immortal being. The sufferer became the Song, a memory-sword, and the rest of her became Alauna, the duessa-faerie, who - though she suffered no less in her immorrtal form - took sick pleasure in her torment.
Her left-hand blade, Adrana's Song, the Song of Vitality. Like Alauna's Song, it had bonded with her, taking up a part of both Bhaal-essense and chaos-life faerie to enhance itself. Adrana's song had the power to both give life, or take it. Those kissed by the ancestor-blade's edge found themselves drained, weakened, unable to move or think. Those caressed by its' flat found themselves renewed, empowered and strengthened. Adrana's Song held no power but that of the faerie smith whose masterpiece she had been, a familial blade that, like the elven moonblades whose design took from her, drew power from each wielder to increase its' own.
"You look better." Imoen commented, and Rachel turned to look at her questioningly. "I mean, with those swords back... you look healthier. Like you hadn't been through as much torture recently..."
"It must be Adrana. Maybe you should carry her for a while..." Rachel offered Imoen the shortsword, but the thief shook her head.
"No... but thankyou. I've already got your dagger, having your sword as well would just make me feel like an imposter." Imoen grinned, ducking her head so her pink hair covered her eyes.
"Fine, your loss, I guess." Rachel shrugged, but she couldn't help but feel that there was something her friend wasn't telling her. Instead, she settled for buckling the swords to her waist in place of the two mundane ones she'd taken from the prison block and dumped the spare swords on the ground. She hopefully wouldn't need them again, and they couldn't really afford to carry any dead weight with them.
"Lets go, find the way out and get out of here..." Imoen changed the subject and turned back towards the door in. "It's in the clockwork room where we found Xan, right?"
"Yeah. Lets go." Rachel nodded and, after attracting Xan's attention away from Minsc's new sword, the four of them went back the way they'd come. The dwarves still hadn't noticed the switch and were working away, so the group just sneaked around the outside and back into the room with the ticking device. Imoen took the golden key she'd found in the bedroom and inserted it into the control device before pulling the fourth lever. The pattern that had held Xan entrapped started to glow, lines of power forming a blue pentacle on the floor.
"Ah well. Moment of truth. Xan, test it?" Rachel asked, and the wizard nodded before casting a short spell.
"Hmm... traces of planar energy... can't see any bindings... I do believe the genie was on the level." The elf drawled, somehow sounding bored and surprised at the same time. A moment later, he stepped into te pattern and dissapeared. Minsc charged through a moment later, then the girls shared a look and stepped in.
Rachel felt the spell get its' hooks into her, dragging her abruptly forwards with a force that took her breath away. When the darkness bled from the edges of her vision, she didn't immediatly realise that they were free of the transport spell, having to take a moment to catch her breath and get her bearings back.
"Ah, perhaps there is sanity in all this madness?"