Deception on the Darklake
The dark days and nights passed unaccounted and nigh unheeded in the deepest paths of the world. Unhewn rock passed underfoot in a dreamlike haze, as though to look down upon the course was to see an ocean dark and teeming. No one wanted to stop, for they all felt that their dark passage was marked by unseen eyes, whether by the earth itself or the multitude of predators that were ever rumoured to lurk the lightless caves beneath the lowest mantle.
The smell was of the slow rot of such minute life as was common in the wilderness. It was a damp, sibilant smell, amplified sometimes by the decaying carcass of a skeleton long since pillaged by its predator, then vermin, then by the unseen passage of time that cleaned away the telltale shreds.
All was quiet and none wanted to break it. They softened their footfalls, checked their breaths and spoke not. The rustle of their poor clothes was the only sound that told of their presence.
At length the party rested. They unfurled their bedrolls and furs and tied the horses, Joseph and Schrazz by name, to an ancient pillar that stretched from wall to ceiling in a nearby niche. A full fire was not risked, for they valued stealth as much at rest as in traveling, but a small torch was carried. For a mile at least they had kept to the low rock wall, feeling along the furrows and crags that served as their guide. Above, behind, and to their right spanned a gulf of darkness that stretched into unknown, unguessed space. It was altogether unnerving and they did not sleep in those hours of the endless night.
A creature of crude instinct watched the weary scene in ponderous malice. Its many legs rippled and shuffled its undulating segments across the uneven ground without sound as it considered the creatures who had stumbled across its lair. It darted backwards momentarily as a wary head turned, trying to mark a soft click or a rustle of soft stones.
They were not drow.
The dreaded words came that night as they stretched their weary limbs and laid out their bedding.
"We will have to double back," Phauran intoned heavily. "We have traveled far enough on our northern course. Any further and we put ourselves in danger of Gracklstugh or Gauntlgrym."
Grummin folded his arms, Kasia shifted uneasily, and Kharyssa's usual demeanour of gloomy acceptance became subtly surlier.
Gracklstugh and Gauntlgrym were cities of the grey dwarves, those who had mounted the assault on Menzoberranzan. Their cities were as dangerous as those of the drow, if not more so, due to their current posture of defence and security.
"You have not yet told us how we shall pass Menzoberranzan without going through it or being detected," Kasia protested, seemingly to the approval of Grummin, for he leaned forward and looked expectantly at Phauran
Kharyssa stiffened. She no longer wondered what course they would take, for there was only one that they could.
And for the first time since the far-away, ill-formed memories of childhood, she was afraid.
"The Darklake," she said slowly.
The others turned to her. She had never expressed any knowledge, geographical or otherwise, of the Underdark. She was not surprised to see the expressions of puzzlement, even alarm, on their faces. Phauran had been their chief authority both in the city and on the road—a mysterious phenomenon in itself, though they had always assumed that his book simply contained an inexhaustible supply of useful knowledge—but Kharyssa had been largely silent throughout their brief sojourn in the Underdark. She understood their alarm, and strangely found herself insulted. They all knew her to be prickly, dour, but this revelation must be simply sinister.
"There were just as many tales of the Underdark in my homeland as in any of yours," Kharyssa admonished icily after a pregnant pause. "The Darklake, being the largest known subterranean body of water, featured in many of them. Spanning many caves, they say, godforsaken, but for one; Lolth, in shape of either a spider or a beautiful drow woman. Those who die there are drawn into the bottomless waters and are left to her cruel care and lurk the unholy places for eternity, for no good god will retrieve the souls of those lost there."
She caught herself. The fanciful tale had passed her lips before she could steel herself against the onset of memory. But she couldn't help see the sand and waters, and the trees of long ago. The trees, the sweet smells that at whiles one could almost taste. And the lonely campfires that yielded such tales.
"An exaggeration, I suspect," said Phauran cautiously, eyes still on Kharyssa but pressing no more. He wanted to press on, and she didn't blame him. He was capable of pressing ahead, Phauran was, and did not lollygag, demanding answers and waiting, as if entitled to her full emotional honesty. Silence and practical discussion was the most she could muster with them, especially since Kasia had joined them, on the foolish whim of Grummin's fancy, but she could fondly remember times with Phauran, in their long-forsaken hut, spent in true silence, a mutual wish to reflect, and understand. "It is true, however, that that is our road," he continued, now looking around at the others. "It spans the flooded caverns directly beneath Menzoberranzan. And I believe I am right in thinking that there is a substantial ferrying service which we may inlist, run by the Kuo-toa, who are impartial to either drow or surface-dwellers."
"Why should kuo-toa need boats," piped up Grummin from beside the horses, though this was through no particular wish of his own. "I know their kind. They can breathe under water. I'm not sure I would put me faith or me feet in their boats."
"They know the lake," Phauran snapped. "They swim in it at times, and know its paths. It is our best hope of leaving these godforsaken caves."
Grummin's gruff demeanour wilted, but he stuck out his thick eyebrows defiantly and sank into a sullen silence.
Kasia was about to open her mouth when a soft click from out of the darkness awoke them to their present situation, and the elevated volume of their annoyed voices.
Phauran's eyes remained trained on its source as he said, "repack quickly, we must leave."
It did not occur to them even to hesitate. They rolled up their rudimentary bedrolls, stowed them in their packs, and slung them on the sides of the horses before mounting.
Phauran held up his hand for silence. A low, steady stream of clicking was building not so far off and coming nearer.
"Run!" Phauran ordered. "Fly! Follow me!"
The order did not come a moment to soon. As they urged their steeds painstakingly to a gallop, a huge shape swilled the darkness behind them. It missed them by a matter of yards and crashed headlong, if it had any, into the cavern wall to their left. Whirling around, Kasia could only catch a vague impression of a smooth, glittering segmented exoskeleton and a river of writhing legs in the small sphere of light cast by Grummin's torch. The thing twisted and whipped its body about, displacing great chunks of wall and ceiling in its effort to reorient itself for the chase. For a moment it was lost to their sight, and they seemed to be leaving its thrashings behind, but then, as the sound died, a much faster whine of clicks began, and again the light glanced upon the bulbous shell. Though again they seemed to be leaving it behind, a new distress struck.
Schrazz, the horse of Kharyssa and Grummin, stumbled. Kharyssa looked down to see a definite limp in the horse's front left leg, slowing his pace.
Phauran, now ahead with Kasia on Joseph, checked his pace to draw back to the others.
The threat of the monster was on them again. Its winding body was plainer now, though not entirely clear: now scuttling on the floor, now mounting the wall, now winding all the way around the tunnel.
This gave Phauran an idea.
Schrazz was flagging with his malady and the combined weight of Grummin and Kharyssa and their packs, and the beast was closing.
A projectile of light, blinding in the dark tunnel, leapt from Phauran's palm and smote the stone to the left of the advancing animal and it did another one of its loops, but something was wrong this time. Cracks had formed even as its trampling legs touched the surfaces of the wall. Titanic parts of the wall slid smoothly out of their places and tumbled down to the floor, and a group of pieces, farther to the right, finally bore it to the ground, and the collapse ceased.
"Woa!" Phauran yelled, and reined Joseph in to a trot. They could hear still a sporadic flailing in the gloom, but it was weak.
They saw Grummin dismount and draw his axe.
"Stay, Grummin," Phauran advised, "I fear this beast is beyond you."
"Not in this state," Grummin trilled. They knew how he felt. The pressing darkness and silence made one wish for something exciting to happen, or some threat to reveal itself instead of lurking in the shadows, either because the heart attack would kill them or because they would be given an innocent excuse to make some noise.
They followed him and his torchlight. Soon a mountain of rubble was revealed. At its foot it was shifting, and at length with a great heaving motion, a portion of the rockslide was shifted aside. It seemed to be the head, but there were no discernable features and it seemed to continue on into the rocks without tapering. The segments joined finely and descended to form a rounded façade over what appeared to be long rows of short, rippling legs.
Grummin took one look, handed off his torch to Kasia, raised his axe, and hew the head with a ferocious blow.
It glanced left and struck the stone with a spout of sparks. He gritted his teeth, wound up, and struck a second time. A crack appeared in the shell, and a sudden hiss came from the tip of the creature.
Two mandibles split to reveal a pinkish flesh, clearly a mouth.
Grummin took advantage of the thing's agitation, swung his axe backward, and aimed a great underhand strike at the opening.
The shell shattered for several segments, which apparently upset the soft flesh beneath, which bled their pale contents until the exposed part of the insect was no more than an empty ragged mass.
"A centipede," Phauran commented dispassionately. "Not uncommon."
Schrazz's hoof was split badly from the run, but it was not catastrophic. Kharyssa stepped forward to fashion the splint from the scanty supplies of their packs, for no common item in the Underdark could help with, or was meant for, healing.
"Schrazz will not be running any more races on this leg for months," Kharyssa voiced irritably. "Let us hope that danger does not find us again before we reach the lake. We'll find enough there as it is."
The horse's strides were now staggered, and Kharyssa and Grummin sought to ride him as little as possible. He bore baggage such as they had, and yet still struggled with this more than he would have. It was clear to look at the two stallions that they had come from poverty into poverty. Their ribs cast rippling shadows on their flanks, and their heads bobbed as they walked. They clearly lacked the energy to keep them erect and alert.
They all pitied the horses, but what could they do that they were not already doing for themselves? Their load was shared fairly and they fed the beasts such as they could without starving themselves.
The hunger and cold made the monotonous miles even more laborious. Their backs were bent, and their eyes downcast as they felt the wall to their left and led Schrazz and Joseph stumbling over the undulating slabs of stone that made up the floor. Finally, however, in another day of travel, though they knew not the time, they came upon a variation in the Underdark's repetitive deathtrap.
A dark shape loomed before them, directly in their path. It was lying in the mouth of a monolithic archway that stretched up into the gloom beyond their sight.
Fully fifteen feet in length as they guessed it, it was completely black, and about five feet high with odd, indistinct bulges.
They moved closer, drawing the horses slowly behind them and squinting.
As they approached they began to get a sense of the texture. Hard, flakey, and shriveled was the exterior, and as they peered farther up, they saw a ridge that presumably bisected the high back. Fanned out in the air or laying on the ground were long spiny constructs that looked bare and lifeless, and as they followed the mass to the left it tapered and ended in the sharp tip of a tail.
They left the horses and crept quietly to the other direction. Finally they came to what was shaped like a head. Two thick horns curled from the sides of the skull forming an evil profile around the thin, cunning face. It was definitely lizard-like. But like nothing they had ever seen. The eyes didn't seem to exist.
Kasia motioned to them from their left, beckoning. They approached.
"Look," she said, and pointed to the creature's side. It had been laid open by a jagged weapon. A five-foot-long tear had rent what they now knew to be a thick armor of scales.
Kasia moved to touch it, but then drew her hand back, bleeding from the tip of a finger.
"Don't touch it," advised Grummin redundantly in a breathless whisper.
"It's dead," Phauran said in a slightly less restrained voice. "But we had better move on."
They all wondered at the body of whatever lizard this might be. It was like the drake thralls, except that the head was thinner and lither, the limbs longer, and those long spines…
They moved around the body and passed quietly through the arch.
They little knew that they had just passed into a realm of much dispute between two factions; the black dragons of the demonic lord Charboondral and the benevolent gold dragons of the court of Eurabatres. It was a feud that was as old as time, or so it was said among the common folk. This dragon was black, counted a mere child of its colossal kin. This particular clash had gone on for a number of years, marked by small incidents and skirmishes in the vicinity of the borders of drow territory.
Now the travelers were in a different realm altogether, and no divine forces governed here, for good or ill.
The echoes of their footsteps and the clip-clop of the hooves of Joseph and Schrazz seemed to be arriving subtly later and later as they started forward, but beyond their sphere of light they now saw no stone or earth. From what Phauran, Kharyssa and Grummin had gleaned with their adept eyes, the walls had swept immediately away, sudden and sheer, on the other side of the archway, and so Phauran had deemed it an inefficient practice to follow the wall. He could not tell for sure, with their inconvenient shortage of illumination, but they all got the ominous feeling that the cavern they were currently traversing was at least the size of a cathedral.
They sped up steadily, wishing for nothing more than for this chamber to end.
Jeroll was not talkative. He had tended the shoreline for nigh on a week without rest. It was not a great area. This craggy beach was accessible only from a doorway in the side of the huge grotto, and farther than that the ceiling met the shore in a mess of overhanging stalactites and pillars. The door had been widened roughly over the course of years in an effort to increase the flow of customers to the barges.
Not that there was much thought given to efficiency nowadays in any case. The volume of customers had decreased by almost fifty percent, even lately, and to make matters worse they knew nothing they could do about it. It was totally inexplicable to the Kuo-toa. They had perhaps heard rumbling and an unusual amount of commotion, or else felt the vibrations in the water, their home. But for time out of mind they had worked their barges to carry those who wished across the long, winding way and so they would keep doing unless stopped by some cataclysmic intervention or invasion.
This was not to say that Kuo-toa were a stagnant folk. They had many dealings with the surface people and those of the water, and some of their kind were even inclined to be nomadic. Pragmatism had simply never led this particular population farther than their tidy business by the Darklake.
Their clientele was ever diverse, of both race and temperament. There were Orcs, Goblins and Bugbears fierce and tough, craven Kobolds shepherding small caravans of common Roth, humans and the like scared and bearing their merchants' goods, grey dwarves silent and threatening.
It was a comprehensive and eclectic view of the Underdark, a glimpse into every society of enough wit to handle currency and seek the other side of the darklake.
But today was not the same. It was almost time for Jeroll to go home and bring the fruits of his long wait. The ones he sought were drawing closer by the day, and he would greet them.
The trek was long and weary, even for the drow. The trail was very faint, but the path was predictable enough. That together with the subtle rumour of their passing in the caverns made their way straight and true. Insofar as any way was straight in the Underdark.
"Perhaps we should send more of your Thralls," Crosaad said unwisely.
Chlorr'yannah whirled around and grabbed a fistful of his robes. A snarl was on her lips and a pale light in her eyes. Crosaad found himself slammed against a jagged rock wall in the simple corridor between caverns.
The snake-headed whip was within an inch of his face in a moment. He could even feel the breath as the little heads hissed
But Chlorr'yannah said nothing. Her chest heaved and her eyes were narrowed, but she didn't seem to find words. Finally, with what seemed to be a considerable effort, she breathed, "shut…up."
He was released, his feet touching the ground and his hands raking his face for any hint of a puncture. His skin was smooth and unblemished. The others cast their eyes down as Chlorr'yannah paced away from Crosaad, clearly intending to lead the way. They followed obediently in her wake as she swept down the rocky concourse and led them on the path.
Days passed and they slunk, blurred in the dark, from hiding to hiding, raking the ground for the telltales of the surface dwellers' passage. Chlorr'yannah drew out the crystal globe periodically and gazed upon the moving images of the light-skinned folk making their clumsy way out of their malevolent province. It was amazing that they had avoided them so long, so uncoordinated were they in the ways of silence and watchfulness. They were gaining on them, that much was evident, but it was still tiresome work.
A sound, a subtle shift of the air, drew them to a halt just before a crossroads, and they listened warily.
The subtle rush grew in their ears swiftly, but nothing prepared them for the concussion of solid on solid that nearly knocked them off their feet and set their teeth buzzing together. Then the light blazed and blinded after the cool shadow to which the eyes were used. Weapons were drawn, spells were ready, feet were set.
It was a high-ceilinged corridor of black-silver rock, and looked as if its riches had already been harvested by the Svirfnebli or the grey dwarves, though that would mean that they would have strayed insolently close to Menzoberranzan.
Kishtoni let fly with her bow, but her arrow ricocheted into the opaque space defined by no more than a purple blur and a vague suggestion of violent thrashing.
It seemed that Chlorr'yannah had better control of her sight, for she leapt forward with her mace held high for a strike. Her blow missed as well, however, and furthermore, the beasts were now aware of their presence.
The scene cleared. Four of the shapes were darker than the other three, and these qualities seemed to distinguish the sides of the battle. On looking closer, they realized that what they saw were dragons. Their wings were folded elegantly above their rippling backs. Their heads dodged and dived, weaving to dodge teeth and claws in the fierce melee.
One black assailant seemed to straggle out of the fight for a moment, and Solun and Roaki charged forth, unleashing a flurry of fierce blows. All was for naught, however, for a moment later the powerful tail of their quarry rose and swept them into a jagged wall to their left.
One of the other dragons turned to them and roared in exasperation. It visibly drew in a breath.
Crosaad saw the mouth open and even noted a glow as the deep fire was kindled in the depths of the fiery belly, and his eyes widened with fear. He raised a hasty hand and stammered the recalled words, and a burst of glittering white shot from his palm.
Not a moment too soon did he perform this spell, for as the frost assailed the air, the fire gushed forth and swept the tunnel. No heat so great or so swift had they ever experienced, not even at the hands of the accomplished Sionaas and his deadly fireball, and that itself had been terrible. Two black dragons he saw were caught in the inferno, along with Kishtoni, Roaki and himself.
The fire ceased mercifully in a second, and they removed their faces from their cloaks and blistered hands.
This fight was not for them.
Chlorr'yannah was caught in the thick of the flying limbs, and was dodging frantically, wild-eyed and tattered. She backed away slowly but was blocked by a swinging tail. She dove above the mighty sweep and recovered shakily to her feet. She joined Solun, Crosaad and Roaki in the dash.
Crosaad stopped in his tracks, and the others, soon noticing his halt, checked their paces briefly.
Crosaad looked back, and the others, knowing his mind in an instant, turned once more, Solun lingering briefly with a look of mingled disappointment and pity.
He watched their receding backs for half a second longer, then returned to the matter at hand. Kishtoni lay on her face, hands splayed and legs crooked. Burns visibly riddled her left arm and he could see and smell singed hair. It was clear that she was unconscious if not dead. Could she yet live? Could she still serve a purpose?
Was she worth the risk?
He drew his whip and sprinted back toward the fray. It was clear to him that the gold dragons were winning, as two of their foes had died and they had sustained no losses to their numbers. They all bore wounds of varying sizes and degrees of severity.
Crosaad, what are you doing? Sissu was calling frantically through their empathic bond and wriggling in the inside pocket that was her traveling home.
Trust me, Sissu.
A spell sprang to his lips as he ran. His way was barred by a dueling pair and a lone gold creature, but he did not stop. He was buffeted by the forces of the hail of passing blows acting on the cold air, but his goal was almost within reach.
A shock of hard, gold scales stopped him in his tracks and flung his legs out before him. His nose was crushed to one side and the air was driven from his lungs as he hit the ground with a dry thud. He knew that another strike was coming that would finish him, but he was quick to think of his next spell.
The dragon went instantly blind and flailed, missing the supine wizard by a long shot.
He wasted no time in getting back to his feet and stumbling the remaining few feet to Kishtoni's prone body.
He touched her and instantly released the spell that he had prepared. They were invisible, and he was preparing to hoist her onto his back when he sensed a deeper darkness looming.
He looked up in fear and saw a monumental body falling to the floor to burry them and send them to the care of their goddess.
Grummin set his feet apart and stood before Phauran, resolute in disapproval.
"I don't like these folk at all," he informed the elf sternly. "Have we ever been better off after tanglin' with anyone in these stinkin', dank caves?"
"The Kuo-toa are not like the drow," Phauran replied patiently. "They do not seek for blood or pain, nor do they hate any race needlessly."
"C'mon," he pressed, "they live in the bleedin' lake, in the Underdark! They've got to have somethin' bad about 'em."
Kasia moved forward, gripping her unstrung bow in her hands with a strained look on her face. Then again, maybe they all looked like that.
"I think Phauran's right," she said tentatively. "He's been reliable so far, and not all peoples in the Underdark need be considered evil."
"Who asked you, girl?" Grummin's voice lashed out and bit Kasia's remark. She cringed visibly and shrunk away. Phauran bent a calculating gaze on Grummin, but the dwarf stood his ground still. "How do ye even know all this about this place, eh? I bet not all o' that knowledge came from yer book."
Phauran's hand struck like lightning, and produced a crack akin thereto, or so it seemed to Kharyssa and Kasia, as it batted the flesh of Grummin's face and threw his head aside. He stumbled back, but his hands were balled into fists.
Kharyssa stepped forward then and laid a steadying hand on Grummin's shoulder. His great barrel chest heaved great, shuddering breaths, and his face was red, both from anger, it seemed, and the weal that Phauran's hand had left.
"You will follow me." His voice was low but heavy, his eyes steady and his hands grasping his belt in an apparent attempt to resume a modicum of calm. "You must follow me or you will die in this subterranean waste." He relaxed, but still looked coldly at Grummin. "We're wasting time."
Solun had never really known Crosaad, but now he missed the sorcerer, for the chain of command was now direct in the wilderness. Nothing had really changed, but it had been comforting to know that there was something stopping Chlorr'yannah from beating or using him upon a whim. Also, he had considered him a very adept spell-caster.
"It will be more difficult to overcome the surface-dwellers without Crosaad and the Shamed," Solun put in as they trotted down a sloping concourse. They had had to find a way around the area where they knew the dragons had fought and Crosaad's body lay, and even then they had treaded with extreme caution. None of the three could fathom what a group of gold dragons was doing in this region, however. This was most definitely not their domain as they understood it. They were benevolent creatures and dwelled in higher places. That they sought conflict with the black dragons of the Underdark this close to their city boundaries was somewhat disturbing.
"Do not speak out of turn," came the predictable response, then, "We are more than their match, fool. It was a simple task to capture them in the woods and it will be as simple now."
The miles passed now uneventfully. Chlorr'yannah referred many times to the crystal ball that she kept always on her person, but it could only give an image, so she had to rely on her admirable knowledge of the passages criss-crossing the innards of the earth in order to navigate. Often they found unmistakable signs of encampment, such as a faint layer of soot from a small fire, a lone berry on the ground, and even a strip of fabric stuffed hastily into a nook. Perhaps they didn't think that they were being followed this closely, or at all.
Their march brought them through a series of long, huge caverns, connected by large archways, some even cultivated with carven runes, and then the size of the tunnels diminished again to a near claustrophobia.
Now the ways became wetter and fewer, descending in some places completely into the water and forcing them to make arduous detours. Roaki trouped along, nursing the recent wounds but stoic and unfazed as ever.
There was one detour, however, that Solun could not explain.
There was a corridor, long and plain. It was straight, which was unusual, but not unheard of. Perhaps a centipede had bored it. But there was something else. There was a darkness there that blurred even the vision of the drow. Things flitted in that fog, either small or very distant. Eyes of white and red appeared and fled into the distance.
Chlorr'yannah turned immediately aside and led them far wide of that place.
Only a few hours more brought them to a widening, marked by the etchings of tools that made it so. They could see faint lights at the end of the tunnel. There was a bustle of movement and a low murmur of voices. They could even hear faint splashes as the water was upset, for water there was. They had come to the darklake, and here was the shore where all who dared boarded their barges and boats and crossed. It was still distant, almost half a mile of tunnel.
Chlorr'yannah drew out the crystal ball for the umpteenth time. Her weary hands clasped it and she saw them clearly, the elf, the human, the half-elf and the dwarf, and beside them, a small creature with a long hooked pole shoving off the side of the rock and setting the barge floating out into the lake.
Chlorr'yannah surfaced, looking up in frustration, rose to her feet and ran. The others sped up behind her and the sounds of Solun's longsword and Roaki's great falchion coming out rang behind her, as if they thought that the race was up and a fight was at hand. But alas as they came to the opening into the great cave the barge was beyond reach and they were stayed.
As they drew within sight of the throng—and this they considered relative, comparing it only to the desertedness of the whole of their path thus far—they spotted a race they had never seen before. Small and sallow-skinned, their eyes were bulbous and unblinking and searched never-ceasingly throughout the crowd. Their hands and feet were webbed, and they had two of each, and they bore no weapons or packages. They seemed to be in charge, milling about the groups of various kinds and shepherding them closer together. Every now and then one of these groups would be herded onto a flat, shallow barge with sparsely-distributed oars, all manned by the creatures. These were the Kuo-toa, and this was their trade here.
The flapping sound of broad, webbed feet approached from the dark to their left and the group backtracked perceptibly. The huge, pale eyes emerged first into the dull light and then the moist skin and drawn features made for the water made themselves eerily apparent. A tablet of unknown material surmounted by a patch of parchment was clutched in the long-fingered hand, inscribed with a flowing script whose words they could not decipher.
"Do you speak the common tongue?" inquired the creature in a sibilant, though not hostile, voice. His companion joined him, a taller, slightly slimmer creature, whose skin had a more turquoise hue in the scant light.
"We do," Phauran replied, "and we wish to hire passage across the lake."
"Very well," said the Kuo-toa. "For four orc-sized beings the fee is four gold pieces, non-negotiable, but for the beasts it is another four, again non-negotiable. Are you sure you would like them to accompany you?"
Phauran did not pause for his answer. "Yes. How soon can we be away?"
"If you pay immediately and space doesn't run out in the line there," he pointed to a milling line with about three abreast boarding the barge closest, "then your barge shoves off in a few minutes. If not, then you will have to wait until the next barge is full. That should not be a problem, but some of these ruffians can be unruly so if speed is an issue you should be going." He blinked at them. "And extinguish your light. The other customers will not be happy, and we are not just saying that for our sake."
Phauran extricated the gold pieces from his bag and laid them regretfully in the keeping of their host before striding off into the closest line and snuffing the flame of their now diminished torch on an outcropping of stone. They greatly lamented their independent source of light, for it was their beacon in the long dark and their comfort at night in this hostile land. It was ill to part with on the darkest and least certain part of their journey.
The group now pressed as the column narrowed and filed onto the barge.
"Hey," came a deep, gravely voice from behind them, and a jostling and a chorus of dismayed voices in various tongues accompanied that sound. "We paid before you. Get outa the way!"
A pair of muscular bugbears bustled past them and shoved them aside. Kharyssa placed a placating hand on Grummin's arm in order to restrain him from confronting the bugbears.
They were pushed back in line, and to their dismay, the barges filled rather more quickly than they had been lead to suspect. The first of the vessels was packed within a minute, and the group moved on to the next one. It was the third barge before finally they were able to climb aboard, though their horses had to be lead on to the fourth. Three Kobolds had managed to slip onto this barge with them, along with the same Kuo-toa as had first spoken to them and accepted their money. The creature smiled, an odd, shark-toothed smile, and signaled those of his kind operating the oars to begin.
Their barge fell silently in line in the convoy of four, and they traveled across the wide grotto. It narrowed into a canal flanked with stalagmites and stalactites, all rippling past in the odd, orange light that was carried in a lantern hanging from the blunt bow. The ripples cast shadows like flames all around them. It was not entirely dark, but now it was somehow harder to see.
Nevertheless their eyes adjusted, and they were able to see distinct shapes in the disindividuating light. The barge farthest ahead was occupied by the most hulking dozen of creatures they had ever seen. The vessel was sagging low with the weight of twelve Ogres, gangly-armed, stubby legs, bodies shaped like boiled beans and heads thatched with weedy hair. The second was occupied by a few orcs and bugbears, and a handful of grey dwarves, and the one behind them, holding Schrazz and Joseph, also bore seven unfamiliar, grotesque beings. They had the stature of men, but were thin. They all wore variations on the same black robe, but the worst was their heads. Their skin was starkly white, if not pale green, and where mouths should have been, a tangle of tentacle-like appendages waved, as if feeling the air around them. Other than their eyes, this was the only feature of their heads, for they were hairless and had no ears or discernible noses. There was something more about them, though. Schrazz and Joseph were visibly quivering, stomping the deck of the barge and swaying their heads nervously up and down.
"What are they?" inquired Kasia of the Kuo-toa at the head of the barge in disgust. He turned and looked upon the malevolent creatures dispassionately with his huge eyes.
"They are Illithids," he replied, and turned himself to face her fully. He sat upon the deck and gestured for them to do likewise, which they did except for Grummin who was uneasy. "More commonly referred to as mind-flayers. They are as bad as their name. Their weapon is to invade and rape the minds of their victims and enslave them to their city where it is said they keep a sort of hive mind. They also have a taste for living brain matter."
Grummin and Kasia concealed looks of horror at the description, and Grummin's hand even crept up to feel his skull before snapping back down to his axe haft.
"How came you to be on this barge?" Phauran asked politely, seemingly unfazed by the mind-flayers.
"I do not know what you mean," said the Kuo-toa, still facing them.
"It seems that you could have had your pick of the barges, yet you chose the one that is one but last in line."
The Kuo-toa smiled again, that strange, sharp-toothed smile. "Do you see the company I would otherwise have had," he laughed, "and indeed usually do have, for the entire voyage? I wished some civilized conversation for once. And I admit I was a little curious, and still am, as to how you have come here. It is true that we get diverse folk on this trip and everywhere in the Underdark, but very seldom do we see a dark elf in the company of one of the surface-dwelling kindred."
They all tensed, except for Kharyssa, who saw the creature's mistake. "My blood is of the island people, not the dark elves. I am not so dark as they, as can be seen in the light. Also I am a half-elf."
He nodded. "My apologies. Forgive me, I am Glishu, a member of the clan that runs the business of ferrying the stone-walkers. I would say the name of my clan, but it is nigh impossible to articulate above the water, and I have only supplemented my true name given the circumstances."
Phauran leaned forward. "I am Phauran," he said.
The others said their names in turn, and even Ixpie showed her face to make her voice heard.
"Do not your kinds also assign surnames after their fashions?" Glishu inquired in polite confusion.
"We do not know our names," Phauran said regretfully. "Or we have none. It is one of the things that drew us together in the first place."
"I see that your familiar can speak," said Glishu, now scrutinizing Ixpie who was clinging to the front of Phauran's robes. "How old is she?"
"I am six years of age," Ixpie supplied autonomously.
"Then you are some manner of spellcaster?" pressed Glishu.
He tried not to show it, but he was really taken aback by this genuine display of curiosity after weeks of traipsing along with the same lot, and also a bit suspicious. This Glishu was obviously very interested in them, beyond mere curiosity, he thought it. He tried also to factor in his undoubted paranoia as an excuse for this creature's behavior, but nevertheless he was uncomfortable.
He would not scorn an opportunity for conversation after a long expanse of irritable observations and words of caution, however, so he pressed on.
"I am a wizard foremost. I animated Ixpie about a year after I began my studies."
"And re-animated me after about ten years," said Ixpie half exasperated, half-jokingly.
"I admit I did not know that was possible," Glishu said in more of an awed murmur. "I am a spellcaster myself, though of no great talent. A sorcerer, actually." He closed his eyes momentarily, made a slow, circling motion with his palm down, and then released the magic almost imperceptibly. Phauran shifted back, for the deck of the barge had suddenly become transparent, along with the shallow hull. There were very few layers between them and the dark water.
"There, if you can strain your eyes, is my familiar. He does not stray far from me if he can help it and I was loath to work the shore shift for a week prior to this trip."
They could not see for a moment, but then, ghostly and ominous, came the glittering sheen of a scaly back. It was a fish unlike any they had ever seen. Long and thick, its head ended in a wide, blunt mouth, with tendril-like whiskers at its corners. The fish actually bore something of a resemblance to Glishu.
"He only speaks aquan, and cannot leave the water," Glishu continued as he dispelled the transparency.
Kasia was awed as the clear portal closed soundlessly. It was surely unconventional for a fish to be a familiar, but then again, there were probably many waterways snaking up and down the Underdark, and both sorcerer and familiar were accustomed to the water. She wondered if Glishu, too, could respire beneath the surface, or if he could only hold his breath.
She looked up. They had just entered a cavern so colossal that the dim light barely found the ceiling, and the shores were distant indeed. The light danced in red patterns on the illuminated surfaces. She felt very small, even with a barge full of beings to bolster their numbers. They were drifting past the unreachable land in little toy boats.
Sparing a thought for the horses she looked sympathetically back. There they were, shivering and terrified in the midst of the Illithids. They knew that escape was far away. The creatures did not even speak. Not aloud, anyway. They just waved their tentacles, perfectly still otherwise, and waited.
Then she spied something else. A light beyond the last barge in the line, looming up from behind. Had she been on the surface, had she even departed more recently than she had, she would not have noticed the faint dot, but now it was clear, and it was growing. She was worried.
"The light doesn't shine very far," Grummin said uneasily. "I couldn't see the fish until he was right there."
Phauran puzzled. He raised his hand, but then turned to their guide. "May I?"
"Cast a flare? Only if it is dim enough," he stipulated. "I do not wish the others to be in discomfort."
Phauran nodded and cast the small orb of light. It pulsated, but did not penetrate more than ten feet before its rays dissipated. He lowered the ball, curiously. It entered the water, but was almost immediately swallowed in darkness. "It is merely a trick of the Underdark's water," Phauran concluded comfortingly to Grummin.
Up ahead the leading barges entered a tunnel, presumably into another cavern. It seemed that this huge cavern was not the sole constituent of the Darklake. As they entered, the paddles had to be placed in the gunnels and allow the barge to coast. Phauran noticed that the orb was now skimming the bottom, a mess of algae and rot.
"The tunnels narrow at the bottom as well," said Glishu informatively, "such that the depth fluctuates. Out in the larger caverns, the depth can reach as much as two thousand feet. This lake is a marvel."
Kasia turned around and tapped Grummin on the shoulder. He turned around and she pointed pack across the barge towards the light that she had sighted. He was able to make it out, it seemed, for he squinted.
Then they saw it enter the tunnel, and the faint reflections of the dim light showed a substantial shape looming up behind.
"Looks like another boat," Grummin said, puzzled.
Glishu abruptly stopped his conversation with Phauran and Ixpie. He climbed to his feet just as the tunnel ended and they found themselves in a cave no smaller than the one they had just vacated. "That is strange." He manoeuvred his way to the stern, stepping over the sitting Kobolds and onto the transom. "Can you see who it is?" Glishu shouted to his counterpart at the next barge, the tall, lanky one from before. The Kuo-toa only shook his head.
It was then that a blast rocked the monumental cavern and a light sprang into being. Momentarily blinded, those on the third barge in line only saw a shadow of flying bodies.
Ears ringing, Kasia recovered her sight just in time to see the Kuo-toa on the next barge dive from the bow and take to the water.
"Jeroll! Rofani a carloo!"
Phauran turned his head sharply. It was Glishu who had spoken, but not in any language of water. Kasia recognized it too, for the words were draconic. More fluent than even the elf were the words, and no spell was manifested at their speaking.
The trailing vessel now slowed and veered, and Glishu called up the line for a halt, and all the boats back-paddled for one stroke. The waves of their impetus crashed raucously as they drifted and thumped to a halt.
The unknown vessel was now manoeuvring its way around the besieged fourth barge and overtaking it. Now that her vision was recovering, Kasia could see the face-down bodies of the illithids, some even now being subverted by the bow of the oncoming barge.
Then she saw the red eyes beyond the orange lantern of the prow, and Kasia knew what was afoot.
"Forward," she yelled, "Now!" she strung her bow and let fly desperately, but the eyes disappeared and reappeared unharmed, as if in derision.
Chlorr'yannah allowed herself a smug grin as the rowers set once again to their oars. The goblins they had captured rowed fiercely to live up to the silvers they had each been promised and the bow clove the water as they sprang after their fleeing adversaries. They had no weapons to match the drow for long, and now, they would die. No more imprisonment for these troublesome fugitives; they would have to be obliterated completely.
They could see the third in line readying for battle, and knew that must be the surface-dwellers' craft.
It was drawing nearer in their view, and as they gained, Chlorr'yannah waved her hands and chanted gleefully. She could feel her goddess giving her power, and she reached out to the demonic realm to bring forth her creatures of ruin and unleash them upon the travellers from the world of the sun.
But as they drew near, and they could see the defiant fire in the eyes of their victims, Chlorr'yannah, Solun, and Roaki faltered.
Kasia, Phauran, Grummin and Kharyssa felt it as well. A wind, a definite breeze, had crossed them. All halted their work, even the horses, now some way behind, though their barge was still floating forth, stilled and listened.
It increased and began to howl, this unholy wind that was not of the world. They all felt it, and those who had been there were sent uncomfortably back to the Lurkwood, where the Wendigo had conjured a storm for its concealment. This air, however, had a tang of dank weed and fungus that was a different sensation entirely.
Phauran was the first to look up, and then Kharyssa, and they all beheld the horror and panic in their eyes. There was a cloud, malevolent and sickly purple, gathering in a swirl of thundering vapour that was ghastly to behold.
As they returned their eyes to the barge, they saw that all the Kuo-toa were bailing over the sides in elegant dives reminiscent of the one performed by Jeroll, as they had heard him called back at the very mouth of the chamber.
The boat with Schrazz and Joseph bumped up against theirs and they could be seen to whinny and neigh and flail their forelegs, and their eyes were wide with fright.
Kasia could not understand. "Phauran? What is happening?"
The horses leapt the small gap, knocking many Kobolds over the side and into the dark water. Dark.
"Step away from the side!" he yelled, and seized the front of her ill-fitting shirt to bring her closer.
But it was what she next saw that decided her and cleared her confusion.
After the Kobolds had entered the water, the surface had not stopped churning. It was seething. The wind was now oppressive, buffeting them and actually dragging the barges to the starboard side. As she looked further, she saw the dead illithids disappear beneath the surface one after the other. When the last disappeared, she caught a glimpse of a shining, slimy limb.
The Kobolds, those who remained were squawking incoherently and jostling on the other end to get to the center and away from the water that they now dreaded. But this was made much more difficult as a rocking began. The wind that was whistling on every surface was now drawing up great swells and white water flashed in the lightning as eddies formed a great froth and spray. The waves grew and the barges began to shift. The one the horses had just vacated smashed violently into their stern and then drew away as a wave came between them and they slid into separate troughs. They could see through the distorting mist of spray that the goblins of the drow-controlled boat were still working. They were trying to follow their quarries, but this was made difficult by the waves, which were crossing them and causing them to jostle anew.
"What is happening?" Kasia screamed again over the wind and rumour of water hitting the deck.
She saw Glishu come down from the foredeck on steady legs. They had not noticed, but he had stayed when all the other Kuo-toa had run for their lives to their home waters. "No time," he yelled, then, "Remain in the barge as long as possible. Do not go near the edge, and hold fast to the deck."
They were lifted on high by an almighty wave and they saw from the peak the barge that was foremost when they set sail. The Ogres stood together with their weapons drawn in the dark as the rain whipped around them, but they could see that their numbers were dwindling. Sporadically, tentacle-line appendages struck from all different sides and whipped an Ogre from the side of the barge. If they ever had time to scream, they were not heard over the clamour. When a cluster of five held the barge with their thick scimitars, fending off the efficient arms, a rending creak tore the air. Two huge, trunk-sized limbs rose and then descended, cracking the vessel in two like a dry branch. The Ogres howled in despair and poured over the sides in earnest.
They felt a jerk, and the bow dipped. They felt their huge bulk descending from the cap of the swell into the deathly cauldron where lay the wreckage of the ogres' barge.
Seconds before they dove forward, Kasia summoned the magic and recalled the words, a simple spell. A small orb of light coalesced in the palm of her hand and she cast it into the waters before them. Before she was seized once more and pulled back, she saw the tangle of tentacles like a forest of white reeds and the miniscule bodies of those in the water, and all of this seemed to share a center, a great maw of darkness.
They plunged downwards and water spilled over the prow and soaked them further. As they looked around they saw what they feared to be true. The waves all swirled around that center as well. They were descending into the eye of a great whirlpool, and the remains of the boat before them were being chewed up and dragged under. Not quickly enough.
With an almighty thud and a crunch that was painful to the ears, they smote upon the halved wreck and the wood burst into a thousand pieces. They sheltered from the hazardous rain and then drew weapons, knowing that the fight for their lives was at hand.
Chlorr'yannah saw this and was dismayed. Their enemies may die, and yet they might live also. They had shown incredible resilience and resourcefulness in her experience, and she could not take the chance that they might escape.
"Forward!" she cried in the goblin tongue. "Make for them, and draw!" Within mere seconds, they were about, and they raged down the slope of the water.
They saw the drow coming and braced, but they knew that they would not fare well for this turn of events. Alone in the clamour of water and wind came Glishu's voice. "Out of the way!"
Phauran, Kasia and Grummin dove forward, and Glishu jumped for the stern, and the bow of the enemy barge came upon them with tremendous force.
The forward section broke through the ramshackle railing and the flat hull, studded with barnacles and yet slick with algae grated across the deck until it came to a stop, resting atop their vessel that was their safety from the dread water.
The forward oars had been shorn off in the crash, and so the drow and Roaki reckoned that they would find it easy to spring on their foes and kill them.
But as they all squared for battle among themselves, a shudder wrenched them back to the matter of the water.
The waves erupted in a flurry of tentacles which immediately whipped through their ranks. The goblins, straggling at the back of the surmounting barge, were picked off immediately, and then they were besieged from all sides. Kharyssa was immediately tripped up as she attempted a double slash at her assailant, and both she and Phauran were raked by a vicious pair of the slimy horrors. Roaki was struck and dashed against the broken points of the oars, and he wailed in his guttural voice as his side was pierced.
Just as Kasia fired an arrow into one of the arms besetting Phauran, she was ensnared, and fell to the deck, losing her grip slowly on a small cleat.
Chlorr'yannah was waving her mace frantically at the arms that were twisting and writhing, but she was buffeted, and then swept against the side of the barge that was pressing the deck on which they stood gradually downward.
Soon, as they laboured against the tentacles, the water was flooding over the gunnels, cold and insidious, and rising to their ankles.
Chlorr'yannah perceived Solun being enfolded in another of the thick limbs and whipped out of sight. She supposed that he was gone.
Kasia's face was staring upwards. She could see Grummin and Phauran dodging and ducking, and Grummin even noticed her struggles, but he was forced back to his own fight as he entirely cut one of the snaking tentacles to a stump.
After that she felt the water around her ears. She forced her bowstring one-handed over her head as her body was submerged and took the final breath. All around her there was chaos, then the deck pressed to her back tipped to an almost vertical angle and she released the cleat at last.
The water was all around her, heavy and dark. She could not see the others as she flailed for panicked seconds and the tentacle around her leg dragged her ever deeper.
At last, she gathered herself and her senses cooled. She could not see, but she could feel. Her hand felt behind her head, and she realized that her arrows were almost gone, floating through her ragged blonde hair and into the unreachable. She seized the first of two and stabbed downward. Red blood immediately clouded upward from the hole she had made, and the limb twitched. She stabbed repeatedly, but it did not relent.
A light, a dim, pale illumination, but more than enough for her to see, flared up in the water, and she though that it must be her little light, but this wasn't it. Hers had been red, and quite a bit darker than this. It was white and eerie, rays interrupted by the commotion that was still close about her. Through the haze of blood, she could see the floating parts of the barges now apparently huge and hulking, seemingly immobilized in the gloomy water. There were smaller pieces, and amid these were the clothed figures of friend and foe. She could see Kharyssa in a mad tangle with two of the remaining arms, Grummin some ways below her struggling to slow his descent in his heavy half-plate armour; she could see one of the male drow being dragged down.
She would have screamed if she had been in any setting to do so. There was a beak below his feet, colossal and sharp, and that was the hub of eight coordinated growths grabbing and whipping. Below that was a column of flesh that extended into a distant, tapering point. Near to the arms and beak was an eye, which was presumably one of two, the size of a dinner table, rolling and dilating as its precious members were attacked.
The tentacle below her was cut, and she could move her leg, and then Phauran was there, gripping her arm and scowling in concentration. She suddenly realized that she was short of breath, and then imagined what Grummin must feel like and her eyes widened.
But after this realization, something happened that was the most bizarre of all their plights thus far.
Lean shapes marked by glittering gold whizzed from a darkness beyond the Kraken. All about them now were jets of bubbles that seemed to be the wakes of these new creatures.
The Kraken was descending now itself, tentacles undulating and pushing the water, and with a final spurt, it secreted a thick spray of ink and was gone.
The world of sight darkened once more. They saw Kharyssa fading out of sight, a frightened expression on her stern features as she was dragged down helplessly in the monster's wake, and next felt the grip of hard claws and the rush of the speeding lake around them.
