King of Shadows, Queen of Light

Disclaimers:

This chapter was a bit difficult to write--please R&R.

English is not my native language. I appreciate any constructive corrections.

There is some language in these chapters occasionally; nothing really serious, but be warned if you are offended by such things.

"Soundtrack" for this chapter included: Escape From the Farm-from the awesome soundtrack of Battlestar Galactica's Season 2 by Bear McCreary; A Gentle Place from Clannad's Banba, and (hah!) Dirty Little Secret-from Sarah McLachlan's Afterglow.

Finally, and regretfully, I do not own any of the main characters (although I do have pieces of armor and the man who wears them on occasion). Arrighan is entirely my fault, though…J

Chapter Nine

It jolted me out of my sleep, and made me sit bolt upright in bed. It was Duncan's voice on the corridor, bellowing like I've never heard it before, and what he said was so absurd that at first I thought I was still in one of my more vivid nightmares.

"Up! Up! We are attacked! The Flagon is under attack!"

One part of my mind was still wondering at the possibility of dreaming, the other, the one that trained obsessively long hours from age twelve, however, responded perfectly. Grab sword from side of bed, slid it out of scabbard; flick of hand and word of power so a tiny sliver of living light appearing over my head illuminates my room; scan of room to make sure there is no one there but me; out of bed, murmur invocation of strength, skid on bare feet to door, deep exhale, grab door handle, listen to movement on corridor…open door and JUMP!

The first thing I saw was Duncan as he kicked a green skinned figure hard in the middle with his booted feet, while yelling again, enraged, but without words. I stood there, on my doorstep, almost paralyzed, seeing, for the first time in my life, my foster-uncle fight, . I had to admit, he was rather amazing. With no weapon, but that stupid towel that he carried with him all the time, and his bare hands and feet, he dispatched the gith before I could even get to him.

"That was the most creative use of a bar towel I've ever seen, Uncle!" I had to remind myself that he used to be an adventurer for decades. When he looked up and noticed me, I hurried up to him and grabbed his arm. "The rest…?"

"Downstairs, quick! Those fucking bastards are killing my customers!" That's all he said before turning away and starting to run towards the stairs. I nodded to myself. Ah, the businessman is back for at least a while…I followed, also running, my bare feet not making any noise, feeling extremely vulnerable for a second. Then, as we stormed down the stairs, I had to dispense with thinking: I slipped into the battle time of Tyr, with a surprising ease.

One: sweeping stroke at the bottom of the stairs, the gith just turning around alerted by the shaking of the stairs goes down…

Two and three: following my invocation, silver fire kisses over the blade of my weapon, dealing double harm to the creature kneeling over one of the sailors on the floor..

Four, five and six: Duncan and I reach the door leading to the common room. The noises from there rumble in my ear like so many heartbeats; there is fighting amongst the tables, those who fell asleep by the fireplace, those in the downstairs sleeping rooms, and my companions, all against even more green skinned githyanki…

"Where the bloody hells these things keep coming from??" I hear myself saying very, very slowly, as I step, as Duncan slides up beside me, as he reaches out with his towel ---flick, flick--so I can dispatch the next enemy while it's busy trying to avoid the wet-smelling thing unerringly directed towards his eyes …

"I have no idea, lass!" he shouts at me, also in the rumbling basso of slow time…and yes, they keep coming…

As we reach the middle of the common room, we have to realize that we got here too late…Another flick of my hand; the battle time dissipates in on dizzying moment of disorientation…

…and there I was, holding my blade in its classical final position, the front of my nightgown all spluttered in greenish blood…

"Nice lace on that gown, lass." I heard from my left, then that characteristic, harrumphing sound that always precedes a good, old-fashioned Khelgar-style spit. "Got that in some fancy-schmancy store, eh?"

"All ruined now, Khel--will you buy me another? I get you the address." I shot back almost instinctively, then turned to survey he scene.

Neeshka, her tail twitching, in calf-length tight pants and a snowy-white shirt billowing over it, was pulling out some of her throwing knives from a pair of corpses. Elanee was busy holding Sal's head, who must have just finished throwing up--he had a gash over his eyebrow and looked a bit concussed, but as Elanee was not frowning overmuch, I figured this was still acceptable. Qara looked smug and self-satisfied, holding Grobnar at arm's length as he exclaimed on his squeakiest voice: "No, really, Qara, that was magnificent, you got most of them at once, and not a single rafter got singed, it is really not your fault that the others managed to drag her through the portal before…"

"Pull whom through the portal?" I said sharply. The gnome looked at me, puzzled, like he was not quite sure who I was, then he smiled widely.

"Ah, yes, Lady Arrighan…I did not recognize you in that…"

"Yes, yes, never you mind, Grobnar…" I said impatiently, strode over to him and bent down. "It's called a nightgown…" Why was everyone behaving as if this was the first one they've ever seen, I had no idea. "What is this about someone being dragged through…"

Qara released Grobnar, and rubbed on her arm absentmindedly then hissed.

"Stupid bitch got me with a backhand slash…could you do something about it?"

Trust the sorceress to think only about herself and start ordering me around like a servant, too. I suppressed an angry retort, shook my head and reached out: after all, I was in the profession of helping people out, right?

"Here, let me see that arm." I looked at Grobnar again, who, like usual, got distracted with who knows what as soon as Qara let go and now was humming to himself. " 'Nar…I asked a question, if you don't mind."

That was the moment when Duncan bounced up and announced:

"Arrighan…I think they took your ward. The farm girl. Shandra. She's not here." I dropped Qara's arm who yelped in surprise.

"Oh, yes, that was it!" Grobnar stopped humming and did an excited little jig. "Shandra, yes, yes, that was her name! They grabbed her as soon as she was down here, they just kind of piled on her…Lady Qara got some of them with an excellently placed fire spell, great aim…but some of them still managed to keep that portal open and…"

"You know, if I have to get through one of those things again, I think I am going to throw up." announced Neeshka tapping on my arm. "Hey, that's Amnian lace…where did you get it?"

"Would everyone please get off the subject of my sleepwear?" I threw up my hands in exasperation. "In case anyone else is interested, I can tell where I shop…"

"Don't know, holy girl, maybe the paladin." Bishop walked up, sword in hand, still dressed in the same leathers--does this man never sleep? "It's a little too conservative for my taste…but what the hells these things wanted from you and…?" He stopped, just short of one of the corpses and kneeled down to investigate something on it. "Hmmm…interesting."

"What?" The night air felt chilly all of a sudden. They took Shandra: they figured out where she was, which meant they tracked us, which meant…
"They tracked the shards." I said, exactly the same time as someone else behind my back.

"Eek!" I jumped, I think. "Why are you…?"

"That seems to be the only logical explanation." Casavir had his cloak in his hand. " Here: take this, my lady." His expression was unreadable, which was as it should have been…but why, then, I felt like someone just stabbed something needle-sharp straight through my heart?

"Since the shards are from a silver sword of the githyanki, like Aldanon said…" he continued; I took the cloak and wrapped it around me: I felt the start of shivers under the icy blue of his gaze. "…it seems more than plausible that they have some kind of way to locate their presence. That's the only way they could mount those repeated attacks on you ever since you left your home. At Shandra's farm, one of them probably managed to send a message of some sort to another group before they were all killed--we don't exactly know how they operate, do we, their magic is so different from ours…? And now, they took Shandra: we let our guard down and we pay the price."

"Easy, mister." Neeshka said, warily. "What do you mean, let our guard down? You can't blame Arrighan for that, who'd have thought they would just come it here and…"

"No, Neesh…" I lifted a hand. "He is right." I felt so stupid. "After we encountered them here in the city, not once, but twice…I should have made the connection and…That was inexcusable."

Shandra

She trusted me, there, at the end…and now…

"When you finished with the self-accusing bullshit, holy girl…" drawled Bishop "I need to show you something." As I turned towards him, he held out his palm: brownish-green tiny twig from a tree or something. "That's duskwood; it only grows in one particular forest in Luskan territory. It was on one of these creatures' boots." He pressed the thing in my hand; his fingers were warm and dry. "Here; now you know where to start."

"Luskan?" Duncan stepped closer: there was a strange look in his eyes I did not care much for. "That's your territory, Bishop…"

"So what?" The ranger shrugged, turned away and spoke back over his shoulder. "As if I care what happens to a crazy farm girl who is stupid enough to hang out with holy rollers who…"

"They could use a tracker when they go after her." Duncan's voice was more of a growl, now: I looked at him, then to Bishop, not quite understanding what was going on here. I had maybe four hours of sleep, and even that was filled with rather disturbing dreams. In addition to the fatigue that always assaulted me, inevitably, after battle, maybe my mind was not working quite as fast as it should have.

"And you will help them, I say." Duncan kept going on that low voice; Bishop stopped dead, turned around and looked at him. I felt something heavy, something almost visibly important hovering in the air there for a split second; my uncle drew up to his full height, chin jutting forward, tensing every muscle.

"I see." said Bishop slowly. "Is that how it is, then, Duncan?" The way he looked at my uncle now, made me want to step in front of him with my sword; the man was radiating such fury. "You calling it in, just like that?"

"I do, Bishop." Duncan nodded heavily. "I want you to go with my niece here, I want you to help her find her friend, Shandra, and I want you to help her to bring her back here unharmed." I heard a sharp intake of breath from where Khelgar stood; I made a note to ask him later. 'Now, lass…" and Duncan turned to me, "you probably don't have much time. Let's have one of the kids run to the Watch to get them here so everything is squared off and reported…then you better be off. I'll start on the supplies."

With that, he was off towards the storage room…and that left me there with a whole roomful of people staring at me, and that included one almost white-faced ranger.

"You heard the man." Bishop spoke so low I had to step up to him to hear it. "We start out as soon as you lot can get your shit together; sooner if possible. I'll be here waiting." He turned away with his jaw clenched so tight I could see his neck muscles straining, and set out to the corner where he usually store his stuff.

Well, that was decidedly odd. As I had too many things that needed resolution, I started with the one I thought was the simplest: I went after Duncan. I got him in the kitchen, talking to one of the sleepy-faced girls from the Irregulars while stuffing things into a bag with small, angry movements.

"Um…Uncle?" I gently but firmly took the bag out of his hand. "I don't think we'll need any more potatoes." The girl fled the scene through the back door, very fast: she probably was the one Duncan wanted to let the Watch know what happened. "I'll be back up in my room a minute, getting my things, but I need to ask you about Bishop…"

"There's nothing to ask, lass." He took a ham off the hook and, after brief hesitation, a bag of beans from the floor. "He'll be a great help for you; I don't think there's anyone in this city who knows the Duskwood side of the border better. Just watch him, that's all."

"Yes, Uncle, that's exactly it." I tied the mouth of the bag with a piece of string. "Do I have to keep an eye on him all the time to make sure he does not cut my throat while trying to rape me in my sleep?."

"Now, lass, I don't think anyone could do that to you…" Duncan started, but I cut him off.

"It's not the question of me being able to defend myself, Uncle, and you know that, too. Whatever made you to have him guide us…fine, no doubt he is a good tracker, I trust your judgment, But I cannot have one eye on him all the time while being busy saving Shandra, you see?"

"You are way too smart for your own good…" Duncan murmured while grabbing two pots and tossing them with the rest of the stuff on the kitchen table. "But you should not worry about that…not this time, anyway. He'll behave."

I snorted. "And I am assuming you will not tell me any details about how come you can just order him around like that."

"Yep." Duncan had that same stubborn set to his shoulders his brother, my foster-father had every time I tried to pry into my own past--so I knew that was all I was going to get.

"Fine, then." I gave him a quick hug. "Be that way…should not expect less from a Furlong, after all." I strode out of there before he could come up with a suitably Daeghun-like retort, too.

Next stop: Khelgar. I was going to get to the bottom of my 'people to talk to' list one of these days, but by then, I was sure I would have had a whole other one written up for me. I did not look forward to it.

"What is it, lass?" I found him tying his weapon belt over what he called 'his dignity', that is, his rather respectable potbelly, in his room--door open, equipment, assorted weapons, clothing and pieces of food all over the place. "I'll be done in just a pinch…and don't ye worry, I am right as rain, that little gash got healed mighty fine."

"Glad to hear that." I smiled at him: not that I doubted Elanee's healing abilities, but I liked to make sure he was not just trying to please me and than will collapse after a day on the road. "But tell me, Khel: you found something odd about that little scene between Uncle Dunk and Bishop…?"

"Aye, lass." he nodded, serious all of a sudden. "I sure did; that little exchange was suspiciously close to some ritual geas-invocations my people have."

"Geas?" I asked: I was not familiar with the expression.

"Bound, obligation, blood-debt, fulfillment of an oath…" Khelgar was speaking slowly as if he was tasting the words. "It's hard to find the Common equivalent; but yer uncle must have called in a debt for ye, of that I am certain."

"Ah." I just stood there, nodding, and there were about a hundred questions running through my mind. Because, of course, that explained a lot: how come Bishop got to hang around even though obviously they did not like each other much; how come Uncle Duncan never tossed him out; how come Bishop never tried to knife him, or anyone else in the inn for that matter…and, at the end, how come that Duncan could just tell him to go help me and the ranger had to do it.

"Well, lass…do you have ought else you wanted to ask?" Khelgar grabbed a boot from under a pile of dubiously clean clothes. "'Cause if not, you better go and start putting on more clothes and probably some armor, too. And get the lad back his cloak, too…" he added as I was about to leave, indicating Casavir's blue cloak I still had around my shoulders. "He might like it better now that you wore it…"

"Khel!" I have to admit, I fled his room a lot faster than I normally would have: my ears were burning. His chuckle pursued me down the corridor to my own room, and stayed with me while I got ready.

I tried to rescue my nightgown, but I discovered it was not only sputtered with gith blood in front, but got slashed on the shoulder and I ripped it on the side when I stepped too wide. I was more annoyed than I should have, really: that was the first one I owned that was more than some square pieces of linen sewn together, and the first one I purchased here in the big city. And yes, there was lace on it, but lace I always had a secret admiration for—delicate and strong at the same time, made with such care and with nothing but thread, a couple of bobbins and two skilled hands…Retta Starling had a lacemaking pillow and bobbins and when I was a kid I watched her sometimes on long winter evenings to weave thin ribbons of lace that on occasion she gifted to me to wear in my hair. But on clothing…it was wildly impractical and I never even heard about it, until I've arrived to Neverwinter. And here I was, standing in my room, in my travel gear that included my full plate, with the torn gown in my hand, getting all teary-eyed. Ridiculous. Looking at the whole situation, I was fully aware that I was overreacting because of the events of last night, and this dawn, but that did not stop my tears, or the headache. But there was nothing for it, so I dropped it to the laundry basket with a little hopeful note to whomever will deal with it once we were gone asking to see if it can be salvaged or mended—then there was nothing more to be done so I grabbed my pack and headed downstairs, with the worse headache I had in weeks.

Duncan set up a breakfast table, including, bless his heart, several carafes of coffee; the gith corpses were gone, there were two Watchmen talking to him by one of the tables, and most of my companions were tucking into various plates of food.

"Tavern's closed for the day." Duncan turned to me as I dumped my bags by his chair. "We agreed that was the best while the inquiries are being conducted. We almost finished the formalities with the officers here, so grab a bite before the road. Wolf is getting your horses ready." There was a smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes. "Ah, and yon knight nipped over to the Tyr temple…as soon as he's back, you can go, he says. His stuff is all ready." He vaguely indicated a corner.

"I see." I did not, not really. My eyes just wanted to unfocus and my head to drop down to the table. I tried to console myself with the thought that I surely will get some sleep in the saddle--during the long road from West Harbor I perfected the art of dozing on Lorra's back. "Anyone else wondering around town I need to know about?" He just shook his head, rested his hand on my shoulder for a second and turned back to the Watch officers who had some pastries and mugs of coffee in front of them as well.

I finished my two cups, some rolls and cold meat in blessed solitude: there might have been something on my face because none of my companions offered to sit with me. They huddled together in one group by the fire, except Bishop, who was busy feeding scraps under the table to a large and rather mangy-looking creature. It looked like a wolf, but I really hoped it wasn't. I had no idea how the horses would deal with that. Generally, animals did not bother me: I got along with Elanee's animal companion, a temperamental badger just fine (provided we did not get in each other's way in the thick of the fight), and I had nothing against using cats as footwarmers…but that thing with its yellow eyes and long muzzle bothered me a bit. I could just see Lorra's ears pricking back at its sight…and I did not even want to think about how Casavir's trained warhorse will react.

I was resigned to get a third cup of my favorite beverage when he finally arrived back; as he opened the inn door, behind him I could see the dull grey of rainy skies. Great—just perfect weather for some traveling in the woods.

"Raining, eh? " Khelgar grunted as Casavir shook off his old grey cloak before getting to the table. "Here, lad, get a good drink in you before getting back into that weather. The sausages are still warm too…"

"You mean the two sorry little pieces you left?" Neeshka chimed in, grinning sweetly. "And just so that you know, he actually pawed those as well, so you might be better off just sticking to the cold ham and the rolls."

"Easy, goat-girl."said Khelgar relatively mildly. "Just because I have a healthy appetite as opposed to your birdie-stomach, you shouldn't…"

"I am so looking forward to this…" I caught that murmur from Qara who was busy pulling on a pair of fashionable-looking gloves in bright red chamois. "Will you two continue this all the way to Luskan…?"

"Hardly." Bishop did not even look up from feeding his animal: unfortunately, on closer look it was definitely a wolf. "If they try to make this much noise while on the road, I cut their throats myself."

"I might have an objection to that, ranger." I inserted myself in the middle of this, as firmly as my headache let me. And, since I had the coffee carafe in my hand anyway, I inclined it towards the table. "Any refills?"

"I cannot fathom how you can drink that vile thing." Elanee shook her head with disgust; her cup was half-filled with some kind of tea that she hastily finished up now. "It tastes like mud…"

"But you never drink it, El…how can you tell?" I looked at Casavir. "A cup for you, then?"

He just nodded, wordlessly. He must have run all the way back from the temple; despite the cloak's protection, there were droplets of rain in his hair and all over his armor. With his pale skin and still no expression on his face he resembled some of the old statues in Blacklake more than ever. I poured, waited until he took a sip, and then looked at him again, hard:

"I need to get the horses checked…would you mind coming with me?" To the others, the same tone: "Let's pack up, ladies and gentlemen, before noon if possible. Meet you out front with the horses." I finished the dregs of my last cup, grabbed my packs and helmet, and headed towards the back; I did not check, but I really hoped he followed me.

He cradled his mug to his chest balancing his gear on his shoulders and arm, kicking the door in with his feet and coming in after me, proving once again that dexterity and balance was something that even paladins could learn. Hope, then, for me; one of these days. Wolf just finished putting up the last supply bag on one of the packhorses, caught the expression on my face, frowned and indicated that he'd take the first ones out front. I liked Wolf a lot.

I put my stuff down next to Lorra on the hay, patted her back.

"Hey, beauty…"I murmured. "Wolf told you we are going to be on the road again?" She shook her mane and snorted. Horses have a limited vocabulary, but they understand a lot.

"My lady…?" He stood in the next stall, looking at me above its low wall—we were almost exactly the same height. "I have to give you something from the Father Prior, if I may…?"

I swallowed. He was nothing but politeness incarnate to me ever since I almost slammed the door on him last night…but that was all. His face was a closed book and his eyes were like frozen blue lakes; his jaw was set in a determined lock.

"Certainly." I tried for a mildly interested look; truth to tell, I was not sure how to break the ice, and I was not even sure I wanted to, or if I had to. After all, I was right…wasn't I?

He rounded the wooden pillar separating the stalls, and handed me a little book, barely larger than my hand. It was bound in faded red leather with tiny silver clasps securing the pages.

"Path of the Silver Fire." he explained. "Prior Hlam felt that you needed it, my lady." He hesitated for a second before continuing. "It is the copy from our family library I mentioned you earlier; it got donated to the chapterhouse, and now I have received permission to hand it to you, with the blessings of Father Prior."

"But why…?"I opened it, carefully unclasping the silver locks. The illuminations were breathtakingly beautiful, all in color, the images almost stepped off the vellum, the calligraphy impeccable. That book must have been worth the entire village I grew up in. "Because somehow, without realizing it I know these…exercises by heart? Because I have some stupid birthmarks and…"

"Arrighan, stop." He never called me on my name before; I just stared at him. All of a sudden, I felt that age difference between us again: me in my twenties, he in his thirties. "Listen to me: this is important. Both the Father Prior and I feel that you… you are important somehow. That you are more than what you think about yourself… just a hedge-paladin from a swamp-village with some unusual powers, or a rising star in the Watch officer corps." His mouth twisted into a bitter parody of a smile. "And definitely more important than a once proud scion of a now nonexistent noble house who thinks too much. No, you had every right to call me out like that last night…I of course, would have preferred it not to happen." He shrugged, with the ease of a born noble, and yet, there was something of a little boy's awkwardness in it. "But it is of no matter. I got my penance from the Father Prior and will serve it, may Tyr give me strength. You, on the other hand…"He reached out and touched my cheek, gently. "You, just like I said before, were given a hard path to walk…Know, my lady, that whatever I may do to ease it, it is yours for the asking." There was a smile now, slow and hesitant. "I had to tell that to you, before we leave…you might have thought I was angry with you about what you said. Forgive me: that was not what I intended. I had…things to think over. I went to the temple; talked to Prior Hlam…to make sure Anthar is all right. They have my uncle now, until he can return to the Archives. That was his home for a long time—it will be a while before he can go back though. It takes time for the memory of blood and killing to fade…again." The smile was gone, now, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. His uncle, amongst the blood and carnage in the Archives, probably re-lived the family tragedy all over again.

"I am sorry…" I whispered. Lorra nuzzled my palm, looking for a sugar cube. I run my fingers through her soft mane and wished suddenly that I did not have to go. "For what it's worth, I am sorry for what happened, I really am. I… still don't understand what this destiny is that you talk about. But…right now, I just need to take it one at the time…right now, I need to get Shandra back. I owe her that much."