Chatting with the watchmen on duty reminded Adahni, to her frustration, of why she had chosen to join their number rather than the local mob. Thieves would sell each other out. Watchmen, though they were nine times out of ten worse than the criminals they were out to protect the good people from, would stick with each other through thick, thin, and otherwise. Even the clean ones wouldn't rat out the dirty ones. While it made her job a little harder, she was glad to know that, even as a newcomer, she would have some degree of protection. She took some coin off of the disloyal ones, watched the clean ones' backs in a fight with a few Luskan rats. She managed not to really piss anybody off, which she supposed was as good as she could hope for.
"See what I mean?" Neeshka said when they had left the penultimate guard post on the way back south to the last one, "They're worse than any cutpurses out there. They were even willing to sell out to Luskans! Luskans!"
"Why do you hate Luskans so much?" Khelgar asked, "You're too young to have been in the war."
"No I'm not," Neeshka said, "Though I'll take it as a compliment."
"The war touched everyone," Elanee said, "Not just those who fought in it."
"Yeah," Adahni agreed, "Fuck Luskans. If the city burned to the ground tomorrow I wouldn't even cry for the children. Better off dead than growing up in that hole."
"What's your problem with Luskan then?" asked Elanee, "Have you ever even been there?"
"Maybe," Adahni replied, looking at her pointedly.
"I see," Elanee said, and chose not to pursue the matter.
"In any case, I have no remorse for their cracked skulls," Adahni said, "Burn the place down myself if I could. The way sentiment in Neverwinter is, Nasher'd probably give me a bloody medal."
They were nearly back at their destination when they heard a pitiful whimpering issuing from a back alley. Cowering behind a few garbage pails was a large gray wolf, its fur stained red. Khelgar and Neeshka hung back, but Elanee approached the animal cautiously, taking its great head in her hands and examining the wounds. She stopped suddenly, "That animal. I think it's a druid."
"Gods almighty," Adahni sighed, "You're a long way from the Mere, buddy."
"The Mere?" the wolf asked, its voice garbled and gruff, "Are you from the Circle?"
"The Circle of the Mere, yes," Elanee said.
"I am a messenger from the Circle of Swords of Neverwinter Wood," he said, "I was sent to find one of you. I picked up your scent at the Maiden's Glade, I tried to come and find you. The guards took me for a wild wolf and wounded me sore. I can't... I can't shift here. Something from the Mere is making it too difficult."
"I have been away from the Circle for some time, and my speaking with the elders, it has been over a year since we were in the same place," Elanee said, "As for the troubles in the land , we suspect it may be tied to this one I am traveling with and..." Elanee looked to her, expecting her to finish the sentence.
Adahni stayed silent for a moment before divulging the existence of the silver shards.
"Shards?" the wolf growled, "I fail to see how one could affect the other... but I am not one of the Elders of our Circle. I will keep hunting for others of the Mere, as ordered. Know that the druids have been forced to retreat slowly from their tended lands. If you would speak to them, travel to the Skymirror, and use its powers to contact them."
Adahni sighed and rolled her eyes, but felt a little bad for the way she had been treating Elanee and said, "Fine, we'll go there when we can, but we need to hit up one more guard post."
They made their way to the southern corner of the city, where there were five watchmen clustered around a lamp post. The sergeant was in the middle of a story, but he quickly finished, clearing his throat as he saw Adahni approach.
"How's things, sergeant?" she asked.
"Everyone wants the Watch to help, but they won't increase our pay. How's the patrol going? Not to rough, I hope."
"That's an understatement," Adahni said, scratching the nape of her neck.
It was clear after several minutes of conversation that this sergeant was not one of the bad ones. She left him alone and turned to go back to the tavern. What she saw there, however, gave her pause. There were three women there, squared off as though the fists were about to fly. Two were dressed in pale blue robes, the third in a scarlet tunic. Her first instinct was to avoid them, but Duncan, who was standing behind them, caught her eye and beckoned her over. She walked up, careful to put some swagger in her step.
"Ladies, ladies, please there's not cause to lose our tempers over this," Duncan said, pleadingly.
"Temper?" the girl in red asked. She was pale, with brown hair and some interesting tattoos on her forehead. There was a snotty, uppity edge to her voice that made Adahni want to backhand her just to make her shut up, "I haven't even gotten warmed up yet."
"Being able to keep a rein on your spells is a sign of discipline, Qara, something that you could never master," the black-haired girl across from her sneered. Her voice was equally grating, supercilious, with the 'r's' rolled just so.
"And the instructors aren't here to shield you. Go on, set fire to this whole street and this sad tavern, and you'll never be able to return to the Academy, let alone Neverwinter," the blond said.
"Like I'd want to stay in that prison with you high-nosed witches for another year," the redhead replied.
"You're right, here among the Docks is where you belong, peddling yourself for cheap coin," pronounced the brunette.
"Someone get me a tankard," Khelgar whispered, "This is going to get good."
"That the Gods you've arrived," Duncan said as the conversation hit a lull, slinging his arm around his niece's shoulders, "Can you do something? These "ladies" are about to start throwing spells around outside my establishment."
"Augh," Adahni groaned, "The lot of you can go straight to the hells for all I care, but I need a place to stay. Please avoid burning down this inn."
"Hetha," the blond said, "I think members of the Watch are here."
"Friends of yours, Qara?" the dark-haired one said.
"I don't need anybody's help to turn you into ash," the redhead said.
"There's no need for violence, let's talk about this," Adahni said, unenthusiastically. She sat down on the stoop, rolling her eyes, as this set off another round of uncreative insults, "You know... I'm sure there's another way we can work this out without me..." she looked over at Khelgar, who took out his stout axe, Elanee, who brandished her sickle, and Neeshka, who threw her dagger such that it flew an inch away from Qara's ear and landed with a thunk in the wall behind her. "... and my friends becoming involved."
"I... I would not intervene if I were you, else we'll be forced to stop you as well... we are wizards you know," the blond said.
At this, Adahni laughed out loud, remembering all the spell-chucking weaklings who couldn't take a hit. Their pathetic attempts at shield and armor spells were ripped asunder by her sword and Khelgar's axe, every single time.
"This is right outside my place of residence," she said, "Believe me, I would have no trouble ripping that flaxen hair from your head and that wagging tongue from your mouth. I'd like to see you try to cast a spell without it."
"Hetha," the blond said, "I don't want to be cast out of the academy if we're arrested."
"Very well," the black-haired girl said, "You're fortunate this time, Qara, next time you better not let us catch you outside academy walls."
They turned on their heels around walked out.
"I didn't need your help," the girl called Qara whined, "Those "wizards" had it coming."
"So did you," Adahni said.
"They're just jealous," Qara said, flipping her hair, "I'm more powerful than they'll ever be."
"Lass, you should have thought of that before starting a fight outside the Flagon," Duncan said, "And the damage you caused before they even showed up."
"It's the wood you use in the rafters, it sets fire easily."
"Yeah," Elanee said, her face somber, "Funny how wood burns."
"I think you ought to work off this little debt you've accrued," Duncan said.
"What? I'm not working for either of you! Ever!" Qara exclaimed, her face a mask of consternation.
"I don't want her help," Adahni whispered to Duncan, "Can I just like stab her or something?'
"No lass," Duncan said, addressing the sorceress and ignoring his niece, "You will, or by Gods you'll bring down a fury from me like you've never seen."
"We don't want her around, Duncan. She can go – I never want to lay eyes on those ugly tattoos again," Adahni said.
"No," said Duncan, "She's not going anywhere. If you won't take her with you, then she's going to be working off her debt right here until it's settled. Grab a rag, sorceress, there's tables inside that need cleaning."
"You'll regret this," Qara said.
"What a bitch," remarked Neeshka, "Hope she's not bunking in with me and Elanee. I might have to slit her throat while she sleeps."
For once, Elanee kept her mouth shut about Neeshka's temper. She had, apparently, been rubbed the wrong way by the girl as well. She only sighed and rolled her pale brown eyes. "Can we go to the Skymirror?" she asked, "It is a short journey. We'll make it there by sunrise."
"It's nigh on two in the morning!" Khelgar exclaimed, "Ye can't be serious."
"Perhaps if you hadn't been drinking all day, you'd feel a bit more up to it," Elanee said, "What do you think, Adahni?"
"I could use a walk," Adahni replied, "We can take turns carrying keg-on-legs here if he passes out. It'll be good exercise."
"Count me out," Neeshka said.
"Well if you don't come we might have to invite that red-clad wench," Adahni said.
"Aw, hells no," Neeshka said, "Let's go."
The moon was new and shed precious little light as they made there way out of Neverwinter and into the wilds beyond. Elanee, as always, seemed to know exactly what was going on and wove through the trees and underbrush like a shuttle through warp. Adahni followed after her, bending and ducking as the branches threatened to thrash her soundly. Neeshka followed her, leaping and bounding to keep up. Khelgar brought up the rear, stomping and grumbling the whole way through.
"Hey Addie," Neeshka said, two or three hours in, when they were just getting the darkest bit of the night, "You ever make light?"
"Make light of what? I make light of a lot of things... death, destruction, Khelgar's breath..."
"No, stupid," she said, "Make light. Like I can make darkness. Check it out."
"No!" Adahni exclaimed, familiar with the trick, "We don't need any more darkness. There's already plenty."
"Just scrunch up your nose and try real hard. I bet you can do it," Neeshka insisted.
"I already told you, I'm not an aasimar," Adahni said.
"But how do you know? I heard you and Duncan talking earlier, you never even laid eyes on your mother, let alone your father," Neeshka said, "And that stale beer smell? Definitely celestial."
"Fine," Adahni said, "But if Khelgar laughs at me for looking constipated I'll smack you so hard your horns fall off."
She paused for a moment on the trail and scrunched up her nose, and then her whole face. She thought about the moon, and how she wished that it was full and pouring its light down so that they could see where in the Hells it was they were going…
When she opened her eyes, an ethereal white light had ignited above her head, and a dimmer light was pouring from her entire body, from her fingertips to her toes. "Well I'll be thrice damned," she said, "Between this and the bardic stuff I'm a fucking wunderkind."
In the light of her own creation, she saw that they had come quite a ways uphill into the dry headlands north of Neverwinter. They were making their way along a relatively level path, though, with tall weeds growing on either side. The trees grew taller as they climbed higher.
"This is the place," Elanee said suddenly, though Adahni did not see anything remarkable about the place, "The Skymirror is ahead, but there are challenges we must face. The path to the Skymirror is a difficult path for anyone not of the Circle to walk – and it is also sealed against any who might accidentally stray near its waters, both for their protection and those of the Circle."
"Lovely," Adahni remarked, "Let's just keep moving."
Of course, the Skymirror was high in the hills, and the journey was long, especially with Elanee speaking cryptically the whole way. Eventually, they stood by the side of a pool with ragged, stony edges. Magic crackled off the surface of it and Adahni was wary of getting too close. Elanee, however, waded right in and tossed in an offering.
"Elder Naevan, can you hear me?" she called.
To Adahni's astonishment, the figure of an elfin man rose from the very water of the Skymirrior.
"Yes, child, where are you?"
"I was looking for the Druids of Neverwinter Wood."
"I have only recently returned from the Sword Coast."
"So you don't know anything about the Mere," Adahni said.
"He can't hear you," Elanee hissed.
"My path has been a long one," Naevan said, unprompted, "Like you, I have had no success in contacting the druids of Neverwinter Wood. I suspect they are avoiding me – or have cut themselves off from others."
The rest of the conversation was equally gloomy, detailing the slow descent of the Mere into corruption and darkness. Adahni didn't really understand much of it. Most of her studies had been focused on the history of the civilized peoples and she knew precious little about the ways of the druids. However, understanding the particular nature of the situation or not, she understood exactly how serious the problem was. It gave her the creeps, frankly. The Mere had always loomed out the outskirts of her childhood, somewhere to sneak away into to build playhouses or rafts to pole along its shallow waters. Even as she trekked across it one year beforehand to return home, she felt that it had changed somehow, become a dark and threatening place. And if the druids who called it home and were charged with its safekeeping were concerned with its wellbeing...
"There is nothing more we can do..." Elanee said, her eyes wide and scared, "We... we must leave at once! We are not welcome here!"
The wood was suddenly dreadfully, terribly silent. It was as though one of Adahni's childhood nightmares had come to life. She cast about furtively, the light pouring from her body slowly fading. Before her eyes, shadows rose from the hills and trees and descended upon them. In the crypts, she had expected dead bodies. Those bodies, however, had been given all the pomp and dignity of military funerals. But these creatures... these creatures had died horrible drowning deaths in the pools surrounding the hills. Where the zombies were dried out and shriveled, these corpses stank and were visibly rotting. She nearly became ill from the smell. Neeshka doubled over and vomited as one of them lifted a putrid fist and brought it with a thunk onto the back of her neck. It was Elanee who best kept her wits about her, brandishing her little silver sickle and subduing their attackers.
They descended back in the direction of Neverwinter amid piles of the stinking dead. By this point, Adahni was so exhausted that her head ached and her neck was stiff as a board. Neeshka lagged behind, still visibly nauseated. Even Khelgar kept his mouth shut, his beady eyes focused on the road ahead of them.
What they saw at the bottom of the hill made Adahni's already aching head swim and her heart drop to her stomach. He stood there, living or dead she was not sure, but she was pretty sure that the four professional-looking swordsmen behind them were of flesh and blood. "It's another one," Khelgar said, "By Tyr's right buttock, how many of them are there?"
"Druidess, we have come for you," the Shadow Priest declared, its voice deep and unearthly, "You have felt us in the land – now feel the touch of darkness upon you."
"Bugger and damnation," Khelgar hissed, "You three take the priest, I'll take care of the mercenaries no problem."
He, fortunately, was not joking. In a flash of tempered steel, the mercenaries were in pieces on the ground and Khelgar was pulling two arrows from his left shoulder. The priest went down after a bit of a fight. The victory, however, was hardly heartening. She knew in the pit of her stomach that she would meet him – or someone very like him – again.
The four of them were too unsettled to set up camp there and wound up walking the long journey back to Neverwinter right away. They dragged themselves, exhausted and battered, back to the Sunken Flagon.
Elanee and Neeshka went to their bunk room which, by the good graces of Silvanus, Tymora, or whoever was looking out for them, they did not have to share with the ill-tempered Qara. She was relegated to sleeping by the fire in the scullery, which Adahni found terribly fitting.
Adahni tumbled into her large, soft bed. The sun was already high in the sky, but it may as well have been the dead of night. She tried the light trick again, but either it didn't work or it was simply too bright for her to see the results. Aasimar, she thought, so was her father an angel? Or, was she simply the daughter of two earthbound aasimar? But if she was, then where did the draconic blood come from? Of course, draconic blood was not hard to come by. Clearly even Qara had enough to allow her to destroy rival magicians and inn roofs with a crook of her finger. But what if there was more to it than that?
Despite being so tired that her joints ached, she could not find sleep, not even in her most comfortable cotton shift. What if I'm not doing what I ought to be doing? What if there's more out there for me to discover and I'm wasting it all doing stupid tricks with drinking songs? She did what she always did when in such a state; she looked for something to read. There was precious little, she had learned in her scant twenty-four years on Faerun, that had not been discovered and written down. She started going through the book shelf that Duncan had left in the room given to her. The Song of the Relentless Poet ...no. The Magical Misadventures of Menutia Miggins... what in the hells? Sea Shanties of the Sword Coast... read that. On a whim, she shut her eyes and picked a book at random. Without looking at it, she leapt back into bed and forced her heavy eyelids back up to examine it.
The Way of the Red Dragon: a Disciple's Primer. Well, Tymora, I see you've spun your wheel and lead me to something halfways interesting, I hope.
She fell asleep with the book, half finished on her pillow, and she had a vivid dream, more vivid than any she had had before.
The dragon was leading her up into the mountains. She followed, and realized that she, too, was a dragon, with scarlet scales. She beat her wings and let loose a raucous cry, soaring over hill and dale, up to the highest of the mountains. They were ringed by clouds, and below the villages were no bigger than her thumbnail. Even the vast expanse of Neverwinter was minute and trifling in her dragon's eyes. She flew low over an encampment of puny little insignificant creatures, and realized that they were Fire Giants. They aimed arrows and bolts at her, but they bounced off without even hurting her. Her skin was thick and scaled and unpierceable. Nothing could touch her. She was invincible.
