Inside the Hall of Wells, fighter Jerro had her hands full. She closed the trap when the rogue streaked from the room trailing her rope like a second tail.
When Shandra got half way across the room, the Gemsword flared a brilliant white. Looking to her left and right, she saw the two flanking statues wreathed in poisonous black shadow. Her growing dread turned to horror as the door slammed shut with a tremendous booming sound.
Darkness enveloped Shandra. She raised the Gemsword, sweeping it around in a circle. It stirred the shadows surrounding her. They seemed to fear its touch.
A face appeared before her. Tiernah? It was a moon elf, but not the shard-bearer. "The statues, warrior, the statues," a ghostly, echoing voice urged, "they are his power. Strike them down."
The disembodied face dissolved, as did her confusion. She advanced to the right. The crystal blade sheared the stone wherever it struck. When the right figure was a pile of rubble, Shandra moved left.
When that statue fell, darkness filled the room. In the glow of the sword, she saw a shadowy presence. It advanced across the room. Pain surged though her, though she saw no blood. "Strike, warrior, for your life," that same voice, so familiar, broke her paralysis.
Shandra Jerro lost all track of time. She advanced, She retreated. She parried, then advanced again. Pain was present, but somehow far away. The adversaries circled, advanced, feinted, then retreated. Neither seemed to gain an advantage.
Her exhausted mind searched for answers, solutions. Then... a thought; The Trap. Would it work? Would it just cause more problems? Her weariness decided the issue for her.
She retreated, luring the shadow toward the Statue of Purification. When it stood in front of the stone edifice, Shandra stroked the crystal blade across the body of the statue. The result was spectacular. The shadow was pulled down into the well, where it reacted with an opposing force trapped within. The shadow's essence was expelled from the open end of the well in a shower of sparks. All that remained was a thin, acrid smelling haze that burned her eyes.
The darkness, unwilling to admit defeat, slowly withdrew. The Gemsword's warm blue glow illuminated the room once more. She pulled the blade from the statue once again and the trap closed.
Bone weary, Shandra seated herself on a stone bench near the Statue of Purification. She looked up when she heard insistent hammering on the chamber door. Getting slowly to her feet, she sheathed the greatsword and began the long trip across the room to the door. The last thing she remembered was pulling the bolt back.
The quiet was almost unbearable." Shandra Jerro is in there," said Khelgar,"she hasn't even been fully trained. This canna' be good." With that, he approached the door and hammered on it. "Someone's coming across the room," he said shortly. The bolt was drawn, and the door opened a crack.
Khelgar raised his hammer and bent over to peer into the room. "She's on the floor, out cold," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "her sword is sheathed, and the room is a mess. No blood on her, No wounds."
The dwarf looked back at us, a question on his face.
"Khelgar, you go to the right, I'll go left. Zhjaeve, can you see to Shandra?" I asked. After she nodded assent, I slapped the dwarf on the back. "Let's go, stumpy," I said," clear the room."
He pulled the door open, and entered the room. Stepping carefully over the inert form of Shandra, he placed himself between her and his perceived opponent.
I moved to the left, scanning the space carefully. Shattered pieces of statuary littered the floor. There was nothing threatening here.
Looking back, I noticed the cleric bending over Shandra. She expertly examined the fallen fighter, then pronounced her whole, but unconscious.
We turned around and bent over her. Shandra was sitting up, her eyes were unfocused. She looked up at me, shook her head, and managed a weak smile.
It took her a few minutes to fill us in on what happened."The shadow did not appear until I tried to leave the room," Shandra recounted, "this sword had something to do with it."
"The answer to this riddle lies within the well," Zhjaeve said, "the sword and the trap are linked somehow. Maybe the fey-zu can give us the missing clues."
"Neeshka," I said; I'd forgotten all about her. "she's long gone by now."
"The rogue will still be there," said the Gith, "on this plane my hold spells will not fade away. They must be dispelled. I do not know why, but this is true."
"Let's go see," I said, "Shandra, can you stay here and rest 'til we get Neeshka and come back?"
She nodded her acceptance. "Sure, I may even take a nap," she joked.
When we returned to the room where Neeshka set her trap, the rope was still on the floor.
After looking through the pile of broken furniture and rubble, Khelgar announced, "she's still here, alive and unharmed." He attacked the pile and soon had it cleared away. "Not much of a trap," he grumbled," she really wasn't herself."
" I can't believe it." I said with wonder, "a compliment from Khelgar."
"I won't make be makin' that a habit," the dwarf responded with a sour look on his face.
Zhjaeve knelt over the tiefling to examine her. "It is not insanity, I think she is just fearful," she said, starting an incantation. After a few minutes, Neeshka visibly relaxed. "I recommend that we restrain her," said the cleric, "she may be very angry. It is sometimes a side effect of a fear dispelling."
When binding her hands and feet, I found that she was not unhurt. On her right palm was a badly blistered burn. "What could have caused that?" I mused aloud, setting about treating her painful injury.
The Githzerai was right, Neeshka was not just angry, she was furious. When the hold spell was removed, she cursed in Common, Demonic, and even old Elvish. The ropes binding her hands and feet were creaking with the strain she placed on them.
"What in the nine Hells is going on in here?" Shandra said, standing in the doorway, " I can hear you all the way down the hall." She took one look at the bound-up banshee, and knelt down beside her. She whispered something into Neeshka's ear. The cursing stopped immediately. She stroked the rogue's back several times, then stood up.
"You can untie me now," Neeshka said quietly, "I'm alright... except for my hand, that is." After being released, she sat with her hand curled up in her lap. It was clearly hurting her.
"What happened down there?" I asked. "All the hells broke loose after you left."
She looked up at me and said,"I really don't know. The last thing I remember is picking up that amulet. I didn't feel any pain, then. The pain came later. I felt... It's coming, a huge... foreboding..." words failed her.
" It was that shadow warrior," Shandra finished for her, "it almost had me beaten, but I trapped it in the well."
"It's still in the well?" asked Khelgar, hefting his hammer.
"No... something in the well destroyed it," Jerro explained. "Something that wants out."
"Something that wants us to release the spirit from the trap," the Gith added. "An enemy of the King of Shadows."
" An old love. Someone who wants to free him." I said thoughtfully, "the most pure of motivations."
" I believe you are right," the Gith said, settling her gaze on my face. "then you know what you must do."
"First we need to free the moon elf spirit from the trap," I said, "Khelgar, do you still have that cloak I gave you in Neverwinter?"
"Pack-rat, that's me," he said ," it's right here." He pulled it from his pack with a flourish.