King of Shadows, Queen of Light
Disclaimers:
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: Spider's Stratagem-from Dead Can Dance's Into The Labyrinth, Dirty Reeds- from Brother's Black Stone Tramp, and Do What You Have To Do from Sarah McLachlan's Surfacing.
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 Ten
The worst thing about those caverns was the stench. I could not recall smelling it at all from any of our repeated fights with the githyanki and their allies earlier. It crept into my nostrils as soon as we entered the complex maze of stone under the old ruins, sickly sweet and cloying, and got stronger the further we advanced—at first it was almost like a strong scent of some evening-blooming flowers, but with the whisper of death in it. With every step, however, that death smell got stronger, until it was nothing but the stench of rot and corruption, masked by some musky perfume cheaper than even the lowliest of street girls working the Docks would wear.
It made me even tenser than I was before; it drove me mad that I could not identify it, and I snapped at everyone to be on their guard and alert and perfect with such a fury even Elanee looked at me askance.
That was when Casavir tapped my arm and took me aside. He told Khelgar to stop for rest, ignoring Bishop's protests with the same stoic expression on his face he bore his barbed words all the way from Neverwinter.
"Yes, what is it? "I turned on him as soon as we were at some distance from where our companions sat down, with whatever warding magic Elanee could still erect around them. Frankly, we all could have used some rest, after all the fighting up the slopes of the hill and in the first cavern we entered, so the logical half of my mind agreed with Casavir's suggestion. "Make it quick, will you?"
Something in me kept snarling at that smell, with raised hackles and bared teeth, just like Karnwyr, Bishop's wolf reacted to all those gith when they ambushed us in that small village; what was the name--yes, Ember. Except after fighting them so many times already, I was quite sure this was not their normal scent. This was something else.
I took a deep breath to calm myself—and that was a mistake. As I inhaled, the stench assaulted every fiber in my being with renewed ferocity. I retreated two steps from Casavir, with my back at the cavern wall. I felt my hand searching for the hilt of my sword and my lips pull back in a snarl.
What in the name of Tyr is wrong with me?
He tensed, but did not make anything out of my unusually rude outburst.
"You never felt this before." he said quietly, and that deep, steady voice felt like the gush of cool water on my forehead. "I am afraid it is as I feared, my lady. That smell…as it gets stronger, it effects me as well, as it would every member of our Order…we usually learn to recognize it early in our training even though it only rarely felt by others. There is no mistaking it to anything else. And your strong reaction to it…" he shrugged, "well, it's only to be expected."
"Fine, Sir Cryptic, yes, I never smelled anything like that before, now what is it?" I attempted to breathe through my mouth; the pressure on my skull eased up somewhat. "Come on, we don't have all day!" I knew I was using a way too sharp tone, but I just could not control myself. That fetid, putrescent odor with its sickly-sweet flowery notes grated on all of my nerves, all of my senses, it was so…wrong.
'It's the stench of the Nine Hells and the Abyss." he said evenly, not taking his eyes off me. "Somehow, demons and devils walk in this place, my lady—they should not be here and yet they are. I asked for a stop to rest and gather our strength before we encounter them; and to speak to you about it, so that you are prepared. "
"Oh." I slowly sunk down to the rocky floor of the cave. I am sure some people would have taken this much better than I did, but even though I understood his words and the weight behind them, it did not hit me with full force yet. "I see." I hugged my steel-clad knees, anticipating my reaction that, inevitably, was coming. "So: what do I do?"
I asked that a lot these past days from him. He took his role as my educator in matters holy to Tyr very seriously. In fact, with such precision and meticulousness that I suspected this was one of the penances Father Prior meted out on him. I especially thought so at times when I reacted to something he said by staring at him with wide-eyed almost-terror and asked that question 'so, what do I do?'
We sparred at every dawn after prayers and every evening after camp chores were done. The exercises he devised to perfect my form and increase my precision never got easier, either. I also had to read and recite verses from The Path of Silver Fire and we discussed interpretations of the text and debated fine points of the techniques, followed by the inevitable demonstration and yet more practice until I was ready to just throw the book at him sometimes. I was not alone in this desire: Khelgar attempted to sit in on the first of those sessions (after all, he was determined to learn the ways of Tyr so he can become a monk). After ten minutes or so spent on discussing the possible meanings of a more obscure word describing 'winding' one's sword, however, he muttered something about 'this is all just wordplay and riddles and stuff' and stomped back to the main campfire to help Elanee chop up some potatoes. For the rest of the trip it was just Casavir and me, our swords, the book, and my copious amount of sweat.
Ah, there it was... Now that I knew what the smell was, now that I knew what we possibly faced even as close as the next cavern, I felt the shivers starting, combined with a cold sweat that clung to me like a bad dream. I hugged my knees to me as close as it was possible in full battle gear, closed my eyes, and summoned up the chant of courage, one of the first ones Aevan taught me. Technically (I felt my lips twitch into a smile even as I recited the words of power), technically I should not have been able to do it that young…that's what Casavir told me during one of our discussions. Technically…well, technically I was not supposed to exist as a hedge-paladin, either.
As the shivers subsided, I slowly willed my muscles to relax. I felt the energy from my own aura slowly cover me like a warm blanket. I rolled the last words over in my mouth-- they felt like golden honey, rich and strong and sweet-- finished with a high note held for a second so it resonated in my very bones, and stood up.
"That was well done, my lady." said Casavir. "That was exactly what you needed to do, and you knew it."
"I'd much rather not." I stretched my left shoulder a bit: that last encounter with the gith who, as it turned out, was the very same who killed my friend Amie back in West Harbor was intense, if brief. I felt the warmth of the divine magic, and the warmth of his words as well. It felt good. "But seriously: why would those things be here? Would the githyanki ally with hellspawn?"
"They might not." He bent down, checked something on one of his greaves. "There might be another force at work…remember what that githyanki said..."
There was this odd moment before we engaged that group in the first cave; an exhausted-looking gith running up to the one who named himself a sword-stalker, panting: "We have a problem…intruders in the complex…" That's all I was able to make out before they fell on us following a snarled command from their leader.
As if kidnapping Shandra did not cause me enough of a headache. That sword-stalker told me what they were planning to do with her once they magically interrogated her for the memory of her grandfather's theft of a silver sword. Merely thinking back at his words caused my stomach to churn…And now…
Devils and demons…
This could only have meant there was someone else after these shards I carried.
I did not have a chance to assemble my thoughts into something resembling logical order and get any conclusions just yet: we were too busy with the chase, my training and, recently, fighting a lot. But something told me there will be more answers by the time we reach the end of this ever-sprawling system of caves beneath what I was told were ancient ruins of the Illefarn Empire.
"At any event, we will know soon." He looked towards our companions. "Best to get some rest for you as well, my lady--I'll stand first watch." He did that, every night since we left the city; and by now I learned not to argue.
"Thank you." I said, and smiled at him. 'For the explanation, and the warning. I will be careful, I promise."
"Of course, my lady." He bowed, slightly. "I'll wake everyone in two hours; just let them know."
As I got back to our group, Bishop greeted me with a particularly gleeful sneer.
"Back to us this soon, holy girl? What happened, paladin could not get you out of armor this fast and got frustrated?"
I picked up one of the waterskins and tossed it at him.
"Bishop…." I said, wearily. "Water. Mouth. Rinse. Repeat." I stopped counting how many times I heard a variation on that theme from him after the second day of our trip. I sat down next to Neeshka and sighed. "We have about two hours to rest. Sir Casavir will stand watch, he says…and we need to be careful. There are demons around."
Neeshka looked at me. I very seldom saw her frightened, but this was one of those times: her eyes were huge.
My tiefling…I almost forgot what she was…
"How do you know?" she whispered breathlessly.
"The smell…" I explained. "I did not know what it was at first."
"I can smell it too…" she nodded, then glanced to the others, "but I don't think they can…"Her infernal blood reacted to their presence just like my combined celestial heritage and paladin senses had.
"Ah. Family reunion for the demon-girl, then?" Neeshka's eyes clouded with hurt. Bishop just would not shut up. Moreover, he swaggered our way and sat down right next to me. "No fear, though; despite you giving away my dagger to that crazy boy in Ember, I still have plenty of weapons to chop hellflesh with."
"We'll see how far that attitude carries you, ranger." I said. "Just to be precise, I paid you for that dagger to give it to Marcus, so let it go. And leave Neeshka alone: I thought you had enough sick fun pestering me." His mangy wolf trotted over and sat in front of me, right on my armored feet. Great.
"Karnwyr likes you." Bishop shook his head. "Why, I have no idea. I told him about a hundred times that you are bad for his health, but he does not care."
"So?" I looked at him: neither of us had seen much water or soap in a couple of days, and he always had about three days' worth of stubble on his chin anyways, so it was hard to see his expression. "Is this a lead for another of your disgusting jokes? Because if so, I am not biting. We all need to get some rest for what lies ahead." I tried to pull my feet from under Karnwyr, but the mangy thing was determined. He actually lay down in front of me, paws hugging my feet, with his tongue sticking out, looking for the entire world like a big puppy dog.
"If he licks me, I'll kick." I warned his owner. "I am not even a dog person, let alone get along with wolves."
"Heh. I told you that you were wasted as a paladin…" Bishop snorted. "You have brains, you would not look half as bad as you do now once you stop carrying all that armor, my wolf likes you…"
"What, you offering me to run away together or something?" I almost laughed out loud.
"Now, now, don't get ideas in your pretty head." He winked at me and jumped up, without making any noise. The man could move, I give him that. "But maybe you can dream about me a little. Karnwyr, come on! " He snapped his fingers, and his wolf, who was busy drooling on my feet at the moment, followed, with a last lick to my plate boots.
"Ewww." said Neeshka after a moment of silence. "Do you feel like you need to take a bath after that, or it's just me?" I didn't think she meant the wolf-drool.
"Indeed." I shivered. "Just try to forget it, Neesh and get some sleep." I wrapped my cloak around me, closed my eyes and tried to relax as much as it was possible, given that I was on a hard rock floor, wearing my full armor, and, quite possibly, really close to my first demonfight ever.
It wasn't easy: climbing up on that slope to the cave would have been trying even without various githyanki scouts trying to ambush us, not to mention their rather annoying fire traps. Then that damned sword-stalker spellcaster in the first cavern …
I recognized him as soon as he stepped into the circle of torchlight glittering on the walls. I will never forget that face--I dreamed with it for weeks after Amie's death. I still gritted my teeth in anger as I recalled the moment when my best friend collapsed lifeless to the ground beside me, the shock of her spell-barriers casually ripped away by a lethal energy blast written on her face in her own blood. All those months spent on the road in almost constant danger, and the memory was still fresh, bursting into the surface as soon as I beheld the alien wizard's form in that first cavern.
And then he was finished…just like all of his minions and how many others before him? The thought came unbidden, no doubt connected to that memory of the very first time I had to kill, the night Amie died.
I don't know how others deal with this, who also walk the path of Law and Good…for me the only way was to offer each of these fights to Tyr and trust him to guide my blade, that he knows that what I am to do, to take a life, is for the better, that there is no other way. That, however, did not mean that they didn't come back on occasion to stare at me with their lifeless eyes, a silent multitude of forms, some with green skin and the nose-slits and cat-eyes of the gith, some dressed in the ragtag clothes of ruffians, outlaws and bandits, some in the black of Shadow Thieves, or with the tattoos of Luskan assassins, yet others grey as the duergar, or faintly gleaming with the dullness of bladelings…
There were so many…
And there will be many more. That thought intruded like the final knoll of the old bell in Tyr's temple: and it rang of truth.
You were given a hard path to walk, my lady… Casavir told me twice over already. As sleep slowly claimed me, I had to realize he knew the truth even more clearly than I ever dared to face.
…A couple of hours later, I managed to have pretty much all of my companions stare at me with a mixture of amazement, horror, surprise or amusement, as I just finished probably the longest string of cussing I ever uttered in my life, punctuated by a very unpaladin-like kick to the door of the cage that held Shandra locked up till five minutes ago.
"…and that is that!" I took a deep breath and waited for the echoes of my voice die under the domed ceiling of the huge hall we were in. "No, don't say anything. "I glared at Casavir who, I was sure, itched to make a remark about appropriate behavior. "I am aware that that was way out of line, and I will make repentance once we are back safely in Neverwinter, but that had to come out…That fucking bitch!" I broke out in cursing again and kicked the door the second time.
I referred to, of course, the mind behind all of the attacks on me, the supreme leader of all gith on Faerun, Zeeaire, according to her own words, second only to their Lich Queen, now laying very, very much dead at my feet. The cursing was my involuntary response to not only what she revealed to me, but to this entire godsforsaken adventure in these ruins…and even though I knew it was utterly overblown and rather childish, I could not control it.
What I could, however, control was my breathing, and control it I did. I hoped. Once I let those emotions and my mouth to run their course for a while, it was easier to just go on with the next logical step and get on with practicalities.
"You wanted to say, m'dear?" I turned to Shandra, who smoothed her hair out of her face, closed her mouth and tried not to look dumbfounded.
"Um…well…"she mumbled…"Just wandered if maybe you could let me to save you next time…? It's getting to where there's no way I can pay you back for all these rescues…"
"Oh you can pay us back all right, don't worry. There's plenty of time till we get back to Neverwinter." Bishop knew when to step into it. My eyes narrowed, but I don't think he noticed as he sidled closer to Shandra, who, even in her dirty, soiled clothes, exhausted from what I was sure the beginning of torture and with matted hair managed to look breathtaking.
Oh, no, please…run through my mind, please, don't take the bait…
Too late. She obviously did.
"What?" Shandra shot a confused look at him. "I am not paying you a penny…"
Bishop leered; the man enjoyed this way too much.
"Oh, don't you worry, farm girl, you can always pay me another way. My bedroll's a little cold at night, and I'm thinking you can fix that."
'Watch it, Bishop!" I said, rather resigned; again, adding one to the 'lewd innuendos and other vile things I had to put up from Bishop on this trip' count in my head. It was a long list, and I suspected it was not over yet.
"Mmmm, jealousy…" Bishop sniffed as if sensing the air, with a wolfish grin on his face. "Quite thick in this little band, I see." That was said with an unmistakable look towards Casavir. "But don't you worry; I haven't forgotten your pretty face, fair leader." With a surprisingly accurate approximation of a courtly bow, and a suggestive wink, he moved over to the wall to check on Karnwyr who got a little gash on his shoulder and Elanee was busy patching it up.
"Can I please kick him instead of the door?" I pulled on Casavir's arm. "Pretty please? Tell me there is a special dispensation for paladins who are goaded on an approximately hourly basis by smarmy rangers? There has to be! I am out of imaginative swearwords!"
"I heard that." Neeshka snickered next to us; she was busy piling up whatever there was to take from the chests in the hall and found on the corpses of our enemies. I did not object, not ever: once you resigned yourself to adventuring, this was pretty much the way of supporting yourself. I had quite a number of mouths to feed and equip in our merry little band by now, and although Duncan gave us some discounts on room and board, I was keenly aware that sometimes we were his only revenue source. "Just tell her yes, Casavir: otherwise she will start all over again from the 'cat's ass-breath' part…"
"We need the man to get us back to Neverwinter territory safe." Casavir decided to stay serious. Fine. One of these days, I will get him to either make a joke or laugh in a desperate situation. One of these days. "And he knows that, obviously." He shrugged. "Once back at the Flagon, my lady, though…I will do my best and not get in your way."
"Back at the Flagon…" Neeshka sighed. "Hot bath…real food…"
"Hey! What's wrong with me cooking, moose-breath?" Khelgar was cleaning his axe and looked offended—or just amused, it was hard to tell with all the beard.
"Just the same as usual, Runty: it always, despite what is in the pot, tastes like dishwashing water."
"Oh, really, goat-girl? Well, lemme tell ya…"
I sighed and turned to Shandra, who watched the whole exchange with an increasingly panicky expression on her face.
"This is normal, really…well, most of it. You feeling okay?"
"I think so…"she answered cautiously. I checked her for injuries first time I pulled her out of that filthy, despicable cage they tossed her in so I knew there were only some bruises. Still, there was the memory of all what happened, all that was said…and it traced black shadows under her eyes, faded her cheeks to parchment-white. "I am just…that…Zeeaire said there was a…piece of something inside you…?"
I felt my skin shiver on my chest as she said that, with tiny little prickles all along the white scar that run from between my collarbones down to my navel.
"Yes…"I answered Shandra slowly. "Indeed."
I still could feel the acute sense of dread and helplessness that assaulted me as I hung halfway in the air, under the immobility spell the githyanki leader put on me.
"You have a piece of the sword…inside you." She smiled a horrible little smile, eerily shimmering behind the forcefield of the portal that connected her to her own plane. "I already have the rest of the pieces you've stolen, Kalach-cha…" She tapped the ornately carved box resting on a stand next to her, where she dropped the three shards she previously yanked out of my belt-pouch with her magic. "…and this means that I need to take the last one from you…by force."
But that was not the real thing that angered me so much that I forgot all my training and cursed like the worst teamster on the Fort Locke run. It was what she said and she did right before her death.
"You think you've defeated me, Kalach-cha…but my people were not the ones you had to fear."
"Yeah, right." Khelgar crouched down on her other side, watching her every move, just in case she tried anything else. "'Cause yer people obviously just tried to give us flowers at every little meeting we had with 'em…"
Zeeaire gasped, greenish blood pulsing from her wounds.
"I hope the pain you have brought here is revisited upon you a thousand fold." Her claw-like fingers scraped at her chest, flicked towards me…I felt warm droplets of blood hitting my forehead, and I drew a surprised breath, reeling back from her.
"You!" Khelgar almost spat the word as he whipped his axe up in an arc. "You… filthy cur! You dare to… curse her…?"
"Hold it, Khel!" I put every commanding ability I had in my voice to stop him. "That's just what she wants…quick death…"I kneeled down, leaned closer and willed my voice to be cold and steady. "What do you mean, old woman?"
"An ancient enemy comes for you, one that has existed for millennia." Zeeaire pulled herself to one elbow, and coughed up more blood. Lung wound; that was my last strike on her, besides the one in her stomach. I nodded grimly: she did not have much time left. "You have already felt the effects of his presence, and he will grow stronger with time."
A face formed in my mind, unbidden: the tattooed warlock commanding all those demons we encountered, with his thin, cruel lips, narrow beard and aquiline nose, as he looks back at me from the darkness, lit by the torch in his hand.
Another cough: more blood, thinner this time. Almost there, then.
"This enemy, this… King of Shadows..." Zeeaire's hand clasped mine with surprising strength, her yellow cat-eyes radiating the fire of a zealot's soul. "If he succeeds in his plans, your civilization will become dust, and all life will be consumed by darkness."
"Who?" I felt the anger rising in me with its silver-and-crimson edges razor sharp: there she was, like all of her minions before, speaking in riddles, creating obstacles, clouding the path before me…
The self-righteousness in her alien eyes as even with her last breath she sought to insult and belittle me and all of my companions, all we did…
"I will see you in death, Kalach-cha, I don't think…I have to wait…too long."
"Cat's ass-breath!" I jumped up as her lifeless body slumped back, unable to contain myself any longer. "Why, you useless, scheming, conniving, self-righteous, stinky bitch!" I had to restrain myself from directing a full-force kick towards her ribs…instead, I channeled all that fury into my voice. "May your mother's…"
And so on, and so forth. Looking back, it was really rather childish and petulant, but it felt so good…
Now, I gingerly reached up and felt the slowly drying blood droplets on my face. I did not feel different…but I had no idea how curses worked, and obviously knew even less about githyanki curses.
"I suppose I'll have to have myself checked at the temple now." I turned to Casavir again, who was following Bishop with his eyes. "Just in case she really tried something…"
He nodded, slightly absentminded: he obviously was still incensed about my unpaladinlike behavior. The distaste was obvious from his pursed lips and frowning brow.
"Listen." I said quickly. "I am sorry my mouth ran away with me like that. I really did not mean to. I guess, despite all of your attempts to teach me otherwise, under this armor and the thin veil of holiness, I am just an unwashed hick from West Harbor…"
"Will you stop that? "he snapped at me, so loud that even Qara looked up from her usual self-satisfied smirk, surprised; she really helped with a well-placed spell or two during this trip. I took an involuntary step backwards. "Swearing does not make you less of what you are, my lady. "he continued, lowering his voice, but with the same intensity. "Continuous doubt in your own self, however, can eat at your soul until there is nothing left but a gnawed-up piece of wood where evil can lay its eggs." There was a sad smile in his eyes. "Believe me…I should know."
I felt relief and bewilderment course over me at the same time. If he was not frowning about me behaving like a mercenary, then what…?
He stepped closer and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Do not let this…" The gesture with his other gauntleted hand indicated Zeeaire, the other githyanki corpses, and the pervasive demon stench that still lingered in the entire complex, "get to you, my lady. There are people here who…care for you, who believe in you. That should count for something, shouldn't it?"
Before I even could say anything, he turned and moved over to Khelgar and Neeshka, offering assistance with starting our departure from these caves.
I caught myself staring after him, still feeling the touch of his hand…and Shandra looking at me oddly.
"Well…"I sighed…"To answer your question, my dear, yes; something is very definitely in me." I tried to look around for any kind of cloth that I could wipe my face with, but it looked like there was nothing but ask Elanee for one of her dozen linen handkerchiefs she always carried.
I smiled at Shandra, blood-splattered face and all.
"You see: my dear esteemed foster-uncle better explain to me, once we were back in Neverwinter, how both he and Daeghun neglected to mention the tiny little fact of having a silver shard lodged inside of my chest to me. And it better be a rather good explanation…otherwise, so help me Tyr, I will make him listen to Grobnar playing two uninterrupted hours of Wendersnaven music while tied to a chair with only Bishop to keep him company."