Chapter 9 - Poison
Tomi Undergallows woke from a pleasant dream involving a limber halfling lass sitting astride him, to a reality that was considerably less enjoyable. He opened his eyes to a darkness so complete he saw nothing at all at first. There was a slight pressure on his upper chest: it didn't feel like the weight of a good woman, but something much smaller. Putting his hand up cautiously, he felt damp fur, and heard the sound of a slow, sonorous rumbling.
Purring?
A small stream of drool landed in his eye.
"Ugh! Gerroff, moggy!" As he pushed the cat away, he felt a wrench of pain from his shoulder, and remembered how it was he came to be here. Chased by Sammy and his gang into the Waterdeep sewers, he'd run as fast as he could manage after a full and heavy meal. A black cat had been running ahead of him, no doubt the same one which had been sitting on his chest just now. After that, everything had gone even further downhill. Literally. As his enemies closed on him, he'd dashed into an area with a side-stream of effluent which was flowing downwards: he managed to grab onto a solid piece of debris as the gradient increased and the current swept him away on its relentless course downwards.
I'm doing a pretty good impression of a mushroom, here. Stuck in the dark, covered in...
He had no idea how the cat had survived the bumpy ride through the stinking rapids. For that matter it was hard to understand how he'd managed to endure the journey without drowning either. It felt as if I was caught in a bubble, like a Sanctuary spell. But who did that? Couldn't have been the bloody cat, surely.
He sat up, feeling his limbs. He ached all over and he half-wished that he'd lost his sense of smell, but at least he hadn't met a sticky end courtesy of Sammy's daggers. All he needed to do work out where he was, apart from somewhere far beneath the sewers. Undermountain? Or the Underdark itself? Either way, he could do with some allies besides one dumb animal. He wondered if Cora and Deekin were still trapped in the Underdark, and whether the drow Nathyrra had brought them to her leader, but he didn't know if he had much chance of finding any of them..
Tomi might have bumped his head as he stood up, had he not the sense to put his hands up first to feel his way around. He seemed to be in quite a low and narrow cavern. Nearby he could still hear the rushing of water, but there was no way he was getting back in that stream again if he could help it. The cat brushed past his legs, making an impatient-sounding chirrup as if the creature knew where it wanted to go and he was just holding it up. One thing was for sure, it wasn't going to do him any good hanging around here: in the absence of any other plan, he might as well follow.
"Boss, if everything is back-to-front in this city, then how come we nots hanging from our feet like bats?"
Cora chuckled at Deekin's comment. She heard a loud sigh nearby, and without looking, she knew it came from Valen. She wondered if it would be so terrible if certain aspects of her party were reversed. It would be good to have a companion who was actually companionable, for a start.
At least they were making progress. Three mirror shards were safely tucked away in her backpack, the spare cloak wrapped around them for extra protection. If one of the pieces was in Sabal's possession, they still hoped that they would find the final fragment of the cracked mirror within the temple ahead of them. She had found out more about the place after talking to Elicid, a man who had once been Queen Shaori's hapless court jester, now was the wisest man in the city. Elicid had said the once-compassionate priest of Aerdrie Faenya was now a sadistic follower of Talona. Knowing that the priest was likely to be just as afflicted by the mirror's curse as everyone else, Cora hoped that they could persuade him to part with his own segment without resorting to violence.
As Cora pushed open the heavy doorway of the temple, the first thing she noticed was a cage-like area in the middle of the room. A skeleton's arm reached out through the bars, as if it had died whilst trying to escape. If that did not bode well for any kind of useful dialogue with the priest, nor did the condition of the rest of the temple. All of the symbols belonging the former faith had been defaced, whether smashed, ripped or scrawled over. Accustomed as she was to temples where holy symbols were handled in the most most careful, reverent manner, Cora found the desecration a disturbing sight.
The priest grinned at her, not a smile of welcome but something far more calculating, and as she walked closer she was hit by a wave of nausea. A throbbing headache bored into her skull.
Her polite introduction, her planned speech, her measured words all went out of her mind as her body temperature rapidly escalated. "What have you done?"
"I have done nothing. You have been touched by Talona herself. I have the means to remove your sickness, but if I administered it now, then I would only displease my Goddess. It is clear that my Lady wants to test you, and if you can prove yourself worthy, then I will heal you."
"How? How do I prove myself?"
The priest's smile broadened. "Prove yourself in combat. If you can survive the rigours of battle whilst diseased, then you will surely prove yourself worthy."
"There's no other way?"
"You have little choice," said the priest. "The disease will gradually progress to the point where you will die. Accept the trial, and you have a chance. It is unlikely that you will face a strong enemy, but the longer you take over your decision, the worse you will feel. If you need any further incentive, then I will give you my mirror shard as well as the antidote if you pass the test. That is what you came here for, isn't it?"
"Surely you don't trust him to keep his side of the bargain?" asked Valen.
It occurred to Cora that Valen probably didn't believe she was strong enough to pass the trial. She looked straight back at the priest. "I accept."
If they had believed that Talona's trial would consist of one fight, they were wrong: the priest had conveniently failed to mention that little detail before it started. Valen watched Cora undertaking her fourth fight in the cage. Such a weak enemy, and she still had not managed to kill it. Such a ridiculous, pointless farce, in the name of a goddess who was beneath contempt.
The enemy's bleeding. It's vulnerable. Just kill it, woman!
Cora lifted the longsword with both hands, bringing it down. The injured troll's movements were slow, too, but even then it managed to partially dodge her, just being nicked on its shoulder.
Valen's tail lashed against his legs. This was too frustrating to watch. He had warned her more than once: he had suggested that she attacked the priest directly instead of playing any more of his games. She had taken no notice of him. She was certainly paying for her foolishness now. Valen turned to the priest, and saw the look of morbid fascination on his face. "This so-called test has gone on long enough, elf. You've had your entertainment. Now it's time to put an end to it."
The priest's eyes swivelled towards him. "I can't possibly do that. What would my Goddess do if she was cheated of her trial? Besides, she has an easy opponent."
"Two things. One, she is not my friend. Two, the easiest opponent I can see around here is you. It would be a bad idea to cross me."
"Nor should you anger a priest of Talona," the elf said pettishly. "Not in her temple, while this trial continues. It might make the test go even worse for the girl."
Cora was back, suddenly. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, and she was shivering. Deekin was casting a healing spell on her, but it was clearly failing to have as much effect as it would normally.
"How many times have I been in there now?"
"Deekin thinks four. You thinks maybe you should stop now, Boss? Remember that time you gots the runs real bad in the desert? Your face looks the same."
"At least it hasn't come to that yet," she said as she wiped a corner of her cloak over her brow. "Back into the fray," she said wearily.
Valen stepped closer, speaking quietly. "Just kill the priest. I'll help."
She looked almost tempted, but she shook her head. "The mirror's curse reversed everything. I won't do it, not while there's a chance to break the spell."
"Then I'll fight in your stead."
"I always finish wha' I start." Her voice was beginning to slur as if she was drunk, yet she still had that I'm-not-listening look on her face, when her mouth pursed and her chin jutted out. He was beginning to recognise it now.
"Good," purred the priest to Valen. "Talona did not choose you, and it must irk you greatly. Did my Goddess judge that the girl was stronger than you in some way, in spite of your greater height and muscle? My Lady accepts no substitutes, and you would only be left with a dying woman if you tried."
The distraction cost Valen the chance to stop Cora. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a saw a flash of light, and he realised that she had pulled one of the dangling chains that transported her back into the fighting ring.
Valen glanced at the kobold. "I can't believe this. Why must your friend be so stubborn?"
"Boss be bravest woman Deekin knows. That why she be a heroine."
Valen snorted. He could not see a brave heroine in the room anywhere. All he could see was a wounded woman, staggering as if punch-drunk, trying and failing to block blows from a single enemy. "What use is courage, when it's accompanied by abject stupidity?" He already knew that he was angry - with the priest, about this ridiculous test, but most of all with Cora, for not listening to him yet again.
Her knees buckled, yet instead of getting straight back up, she stayed crouched on the ground, removing her helmet.
Why? Why leave yourself more vulnerable?
The answer came immediately as Cora bent over to vomit copiously. He saw the way she was desperately struggling to right herself, get back to her feet. The troll attacked her, unhurried - it was not as if she offered any real defence. Claws slashed over her cheek, drawing a bright line of blood, and in that moment, she looked straight back at Valen through the bars of the cage-like ring. Perhaps due to a trick of the light, her eyes no longer appeared brown, but were the colour of wine. Whether it was due to her expression or the position she was in, his mind was transported back to another time and place, where pale grey eyes gazed back at him as if pleading...but for what? For a release he could not give her? For death?
In his mind, he heard the hated voice of his master Grimash't once more.
"On her knees, like the slave she is. Look at her, my rebellious pet. Do you still believe that you love her, in all her pathetic frailty? Or do you find the sight pleasing? Don't deny it... the demon within you delights in her torment, and is strong, unlike this weakness you have embraced. Look at her. So helpless. So desperately mortal, hanging on to the tiniest thread, when it would be easier to sink into oblivion forever. Does she cling to life for your sake, tiefling? Is your so-called love for her causing her to suffer even more? The idea amuses me so much that it's almost a pity that she's dying."
Valen had thought it was the end, then, as Imogen lay there, her lovely face contorted into a mask of agony. He had not known that many more tortuous hours would pass before her life finally ebbed away. Just as she was on the brink of death, Grimash't brought in a cleric to heal her, but even then, Valen had felt only dread. The cleric was the follower of an evil god, and Imogen was only healed so that more torments could be inflicted on her.
"Boss! Get up, Boss!" The kobold's insufferable squawk broke into Valen's reverie. A voice that could drive anyone into a battle frenzy.
The girl was on her back, barely moving, while her attacker continued to inflict wounds in an almost leisurely manner.
She's going to die, here and now. I should be glad of it. I'll be rid of her. But then...isn't that what Grimash't wants? For me to take pleasure in this?
Past and present rolled into one, and Valen's saw a cleric with a cruel, satisfied expression, just as he had once before. Yet this time, he was within arm's reach.
No bars between us.
Without further thought, Valen grabbed him around the throat. "Stop this. NOW!"
If the priest tried to answer it was impossible to understand: he made hoarse choking gasps instead of coherent speech.
Fearful. Good.
Valen pulled him forward, then pushed with great force, propelling the priest across the floor, where he fell down in a heap. With a laugh devoid of any mirth, Valen launched himself at his target.
It had been too close that time. Cora knew that she couldn't take any further trials and she hadn't been entirely sure she was going to survive this one. In the end, the attacker had come too close, exposing his stomach - and it was then that she felt a raw onrush of anger which summoned a strength she did not know she had left. She managed to pull her blade upright even though it felt like a lead weight. Somehow, she drove it home.
There was something wrong with her, more than exhaustion or the effects of the poison.
She laughed then. Laughed as the strange magic of the temple pulled her out of that ring, and she heard its echo in another, deeper voice. At first, she did nothing, too tired to move, looking face-up at the ceiling. It was only when she heard growling, as if a beast had been summoned, that she turned her head sideways.
No animal was in the room. The sound came from Valen, who was tirelessly beating a prone figure on the floor with his flail. Blow after blow rained down upon the...
...priest. The priest! He has the antidote.
A healing spell cooled her heated skin, temporarily, but it did little to relieve her advanced symptoms. Deekin, bless him.
"Deekin not gots any more spells left. Sorry."
"Deekin." Her tone of voice was hushed, paper-dry, forcing the kobold to put his face closer so that he could hear her. "Need the antidote...the priest has it."
"Priest must be completely dead by now. Deekin scared to go too near Goatman, but Deekin tries..." For a change, Deekin was speaking quietly too.
He must have heard them nonetheless, for Valen turned on his heels. Cora immediately noticed his eyes: no longer blue, but an incandescent red. Blood spattered his face, bright rivulets coursed down his leaf-hued armour. His breastplate rose and fell as he took deep, uneven breaths. He stared down at her with a feral gaze, and she was not sure whether he even recognised her at all. If she reached for her sword, it might provoke him: if she did not, she would have no chance of survival at all if he turned on her. She remained as still as if she was playing dead, the only sound in the room being his breathing and her heartbeat thundering in her own ears.
