Ammon Jerro was not feeling well this morning. He sat very still at a table in his small room at the Phoenix Tail Inn with his pounding head in his hands. He lacked the will to even look for the jar of analgesic powder he kept for infrequent headaches. He considered the time spent last night plying that worthless excuse for a ranger, Bishop, with drinks a waste of time. The warlock didn't know any more about where the devil-girl was than he already knew, and now he had a vicious hangover for his trouble.
A muffled sneeze made Ammon raise his aching head and look around. Probably that fire-haired, scatterbrained sorceress, he dismissed the intrusion. When she expires, I'll feed her wretched remains to the worgs in Cania. Her last mistake in this life was tangling with this traveler of the planes. The agony that her soul would endure there pleased him immensely.
If Ammon had looked up, he'd see two pair of eyes at the crack in his partially open room door. "The lock was easy, now it's up to you," the high pitched voice of a gnome was plain.
"Ssshh... Grobnar, quiet." Only Elanee could hiss like that. The well modulated tones of an incantation drifted up from behind the door.
A chittering, angry sound coming from a cage in the corner of the room assaulted the warlock's frayed senses. There seemed to be a low, humming tone under the sound of the agitated familiar. Ammon looked around for something, a shoe, anything to heave at the cage to shut that damned animal up. That hells blasted noise is driving me insane, was Ammon Jerro's last thought before Elanee's sleep spell took him.
"Grobnar, can you calm that animal and let it out please? It sounds so frantic." The druid was leaning over the sleeping warlock, to make sure her spell was effective. She wasn't sure why Ammon had placed no wards in his room; Was he that arrogant, or did he just forget?
The gnome's song quieted the fussing animal in short order. That soothing melody stopped abruptly when Grobnar unlocked a wardrobe that had been pushed out of the way into a corner. "Oh gods and little fishes," he exclaimed with a catch in his voice, he sounded quite ill, "Qara... is that Qara?"
"So, Little One," Ophala was looking around the room as she spoke. "I will conclude by saying that I am very proud of you and your accomplishments. Very few are able to overcome their poor decisions and... their unfortunate heritage like you have," she said, looking sternly at the tiefling. "Some of your good fortune was luck, granted, a very little; Meeting up with the Knight-Captain set your feet on the path of light, but most of your good fortune was your own hard work, and I applaud you."
Here comes the knife, Little One, Neeshka's tail twitched. Watch your back. The rogue stood up and opened the wine rack and withdrew the bottle and crystal glasses that she had become so familiar with. "Thank you, Matron of the Mask," Neeshka addressed her formally. "May I offer a fine vintage in celebration?" she asked, a smile lighting her face.
"Why yes," Ophala was beaming. "Please... please, open the bottle and let it breathe for a moment while I present Lord Nasher's offer." The courtesan was looking at Neeshka thoughtfully, choosing her words.
The rogue carefully drew the cork, it wouldn't do for her to fumble it. "It must have placed our Lord in a tight spot to have a tiefling pass the test in Neverneath. Nevalle was livid. I still can't figure out what he's got against me."
"Dear sweet Nevalle... ahem, Sir Nevalle," Ophala's mocking voice made them both laugh. "He first thought you were some devil-spirit, hell-bent on burning Neverwinter to the ground. Now that he knows who you are, he says you are not worthy of any position within Lord Nasher's realm. To him, you are a lowly thief, not worth his time. I am here to set him straight." there was steel in her last statement.
"Better you than me," Neeshka said, thinking, There's more to this woman than she's letting on. "I'm glad I don't have to deal with Sir Nevalle every day."
"It's what I do," Ophala dismissed the thought. "He's not that hard to deal with, believe me, there are bigger dragons to battle right here in Neverwinter, and that brings me to why I'm here."
Huh.. a frontal assault, shields to the fore, the rogue thought. "About time you got to the point, ambassador, I'm flattered," the rogue teased with a wry smile.
Ophala smiled at the tiefling's light hearted banter. "I'm sure you remember when your group assisted the Many Starred Cloaks in capturing Crossroad Keep. We are now sure that the Luskans were directly involved. Their penetration of Neverwinter's flank from the south has Lord Nasher and his advisors very... concerned."
"If I remember, there was some high level necromancy involved. What were those evil wizards called? ...oh yeah, shadow reavers." The rogue was proud of her group's part in that ordeal.
"My reports stated that there were locked doors between the Many Stars and a victory. A certain... how did Nathe put it? Devil-girl opened the doors like they had no locks. It seems that said devil-girl also saved quite a few lives from a trapped door in the basement." Ophala had a theatrically thoughtful look on her face. "Maybe Nathe really meant to say a tiefling, Hmm?"
The rogue deftly sidestepped Ophala's ego-trap. "There weren't that many locked doors, but the escape tunnel had a few alarms, I wouldn't have called them traps though," she said with a casual shrug.
The courtesan smiled, gladdened by the rogue's humility; It was just what she was looking for in a leader. "My dear, that group of magicians are my finest arcane warriors. They are not easily fooled and it takes a lot to impress them. The Knight-Captain's group in general, and you in particular, have earned their respect. How did Nathe say it... 'We could assault the nine hells with them and come back alive.' They do not give higher praise than that."
"So, now that I'm basted... into the oven?" the rogue asked with raised eyebrow.
Ophala's laugh was cheerful. "My dear Neeshka always the cynic." She forced a stern look, then said, "I owe you the truth, then. Lord Nasher was in a quandary when presented with you. Earning the title of Defender of Neverwinter, in spite of what Sir Nevalle thinks, entitles you to some rank within his realm. How do I say this...hit it head on 'phala," she said, raising her chin, "There would be some objection to granting you a rank. There would be potential harm to both you and the realm if this was not handled carefully."
"And how am I to be handled?" she asked, the hurt surfacing once again. "It comes down to being... handled?" Her voice was rising.
"No... you are not being handled," Ophala answered, her stern look told the tiefling, Do not disappoint me. "My Lord Nasher is concerned about your feelings. That is why I'm here."
Neeshka sighed, "Let me guess... back to the Mask to star in the floor show, my name, drawing admirers from near and far..." She interrupted herself, looking wistfully up at the ceiling. "Sorry... mistress Ophala, please continue." Dummy, thy name is Neeshka, she chastised herself.
"I'm glad to see you have better control of yourself, dear," the courtesan observed with some approval. "My solution, it has met Lord Nasher's approval by the way, is to place you in charge of a small group of The Many Starred Cloaks headquartered within Crossroad Keep. It bears the rank of lieutenant and the chain of command will be from the Knight-Captain of Crossroad to me and then to Lord Nasher himself. Nathe will be your sergeant, he specifically volunteered. All this is on your acceptance, of course."
"But, I'm not a mage. I know nothing of arcanery," Neeshka objected. "Why would mages follow a... thief."
"You are not a thief, anymore, lieutenant, The Knight-Captain tells me that you are one of the finest scouts she has ever known." Ophala was smiling again. "And the Many Stars trust you to keep them safe. Let them take care of the... arcanery, you will just lead them." she picked up the bottle of wine. "Can I tell Our Lord Nasher that you have accepted?"
After the rogue nodded, Ophala poured for them both.
"Something tells me this isn't Crossroad Keep," Grobnar whispered, sounding like a lost child. The more he looked around, the deeper his frown became. He sensed two others with him in this stifling hot, dimly lit room. Sullen red fissures split the walls of the cavern that held them prisoner. The gnome had never considered himself claustrophobic, but these walls appeared to be closing in. He knew that he was running on will power alone here.
Elanee was bent over administering healing and aid to the sobbing girl that they found in Ammon Jerro's room at the Phoenix Tail Inn. She had been bound and gagged after enduring a severe beating, and stuffed into a wardrobe, apparently left to die.
"Qara... are you alright?" the gnome's voice was barely under control. "How could he... how could he do such a thing?"
When the sorceress looked up at him, he recoiled at the look of misery mixed with anger that her face displayed. Anger like that could smolder for a lifetime. She wasn't inclined to answer him.
The druid's ministrations were having a positive effect on the badly mauled sorceress. Elanee looked up at Grobnar, her face held no reproach. Her question for him was unspoken.
The gnome shrugged; He didn't understand what had happened, but he had a suspicion. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that wardrobe was trapped..."
"We're alive, Grobnar," the druid interrupted him. "That's a good start. Can you take a look around? We need to find a way out." She hoped that giving him something to do would take his mind off their present situation.
She turned back to Qara, who looked like she felt a little better. "What happened to you? Do you know where we are?"
"Oh gods, that bastard Jerro," she moaned, wiping her badly bruised face, wincing at the pain her own touch caused. "He had Tamin in a cage. You know that I can see and hear through my familiar, so I could see that Jerro was researching some infernal ritual; Something that had to do with spirits and the afterlife. You also should know that he studied at the Academy of Shapers and Binders in Thay. That's a scary bunch of wizards if you ask me."
"What did he want with Tamin?" Elanee was intrigued. Did the warlock confuse Qara's familiar with Moonbow? Aside from their eyes, they look very much alike.
"Jerro was probably after that other fam'; The one the demon-spawn was trying to hide," Qara concluded. She painfully rose to her feet with Elanee's help. "I found Tamin in Jerro's room. Jerro found me in his room and..." she closed her eyes and left the rest unfinished.
"Let's get you out of here, my sleep spell should hold Jerro for a few more hours," the druid consoled, helping Qara along.
Half way down the tunnel they met Grobnar, breathless with his discovery; "There's a door at the end of this passage." he said pointing to the tunnel on the right. "It's not locked, that's the way out. I'm sure of it"
Grobnar's discovery was an ancient cold-iron entry cover, so old, it appeared to be more rust than iron. Bright gouges in its surface showed recent attempts to batter it open.
"You said it was unlocked gnome," Qara was regaining some of her former morale. "Something big has been knocking on this door. Did you actually open It?" she challenged.
"Yes, mistress Qara, the lock is broken," he said pushing the door open with a grating sound from its rusted hinges. "See... there's nothing here..."
The gnome's assurance was interrupted by a bestial roar that shook the walls, threatening everyone's hearing. The infernal being that was guarding this room was a stout humanoid with ram's horns on his head. A nimbus of fire surrounded his scaly torso. His tail cracked like a whip. Gnomes were evidently a part of his diet, he advanced to the scarred door.
"Grobnar, get away from the door... get down." Elanee's voice was hard for the gnome to hear. The fiend was almost to the door as the gnome dropped to the floor and rolled to his left, his song of discord was just beginning to form on his lips.
Qara's exhaustion was forgotten as she focused. Fire.. opposition cold. Fire... opposition ice, Her mind recited.A deadly calm settled over her. Cold was not her forte, but their lives were at stake here. As she started channeling her energy, she heard the druid's chant faintly, as if they were far apart.
The fiend was stopped in mid-stride, frozen solid by the combination of a cold beam spell from the sorceress and an ice storm spell from the druid. The crackling of breaking ice was getting louder as the gnomes song of discord worked up in power. At the song's peak, the frozen fiend tumbled to the stone floor, shattering on impact. The pieces began melting immediately into lumps of sticky red gore.
Elanee managed to catch the fainting sorceress before she hit the floor. "Grobnar, make sure there aren't any more of those devils around," she called, Silvanus be thanked, but we're not out of darkwood yet. She turned to Qara and opened her belt pouch.
After reviving the sorceress, Elanee stepped into the chamber beyond the scarred door. It was circular in shape with a mosaic of reddish tiles set into the smooth stone floor. "What is this room for?" the druid asked. When she looked at the gnome, he just shrugged.
Qara recognized the tiles' pattern right away. "It's a planar portal," she explained, her weariness not showing now. Pointing to the large ring of square tiles in the center, she said, "this is the target for my spells." After examining them more closely, she continued, "These round ones," she pointed to three tiles near the door; A black tile in the center, flanked by a white one on the right and a red one on the left. "Are where the sorceress stands when casting a spell to unlock the portal." Qara was personalizing again—Grobnar rolled his eyes.
"Do the colors for the round ones mean anything?" the gnome asked with real interest.
"Yes," the battered girl replied, showing her impatience. "If you want to die, stand on the black tile and cast any spell. It's a trap designed for fools."
"So, how do we get out of here?" Elanee wanted to know. "How do we find out where the other spots lead to?"
Qara was a little more tolerant of the wood elf. "I'm not sure... all I know is the circular black tile is off limits. See the black bars on the inside of all the tiles in the circle? They mean that an opposition spell triggers them. The white tile's opposite is fire, while the red tile's opposite is ice."
"Would the destinations be related to the spells?" Grobnar asked. "An ice spell is home, so to speak, and a fire spell is the next step, maybe to the hells?" He shuddered.
"You're close," the sorceress replied. "The color of the tile sets the destination, that's another trap. The ice spell triggers the red, I don't think we want that."
"Great," the gnome enthused, "So, it's stand on the white spot and cast fire at the circle to get home. Mistress Qara, you're quite good at this."
In spite of her misery the sorceress preened, "Thanks, now stand back and enjoy the show." She didn't see Elanee mouth, Good job, to Grobnar behind her back. Holding out her hands, palms up, Qara toed the white tile, and began to slowly channel her energy at the circular target. She carefully fed more power until a roaring vortex appeared in the air above it. After she damped the fire back down, she turned to her companions and bowed theatrically. "It's done, let's get out of here... who's first?"
"Bravo, mistress, you made that look so easy," the gnome gushed. "Last one in is a..." his statement was cut off as he ran across the room and jumped into the noisy portal.
"See you on the other side," Elanee intoned, saying a silent prayer to Silvanus, as she stepped into the void.
"Here I come, you tattoo-faced, soulless bastard," Qara cursed as she walked up to the portal and jumped in with both feet.
The newly-minted Knight-Captain Lady Tiernah Lunedoptera, returned from reverie slowly, the candle's afterimage was still in her eyes. As her vision slowly cleared, she stretched languidly and stood up. After pulling on her working uniform, a careworn monk's robe of coarse undyed linen with dark brown sleeves and leggings, she did a fast series of warm up exercises. She'd decided to travel to Highcliff today.
Aelicia was due anytime now with the morning meal and maybe word about Donel. He should be at Crossroad now, preparing for his ride to Highcliff. Tie was planning to get to the village at about the same time as the stable boy. There was still time left, the moon was at three-quarters.
During reverie, her visions had made an impression on her. In her latest vision, a young fair-haired woman played in a garden of closed moonflowers with a beautiful, laughing baby girl. In another vision, a young man with dark hair and slate grey eyes set in an elven face looked down in wonder at his new baby girl. That moment of recognition between father and daughter gladdened Tiernah's heart. These three were her focus right now. When Sehanine speaks, the wise listen, was an old moon elf saying. The Knight -Captain understood what The Daughter of the Night Skies was telling her.