Chapter 11… And Found

After rounding a few corners and finding nothing, Valen and Xen'shai eventually slowed; there had not been any more screams and so caution now overrode both their initial instincts to head as quickly as they could towards the unearthly sound. In an unspoken agreement between the two males, the Weapon Master hefted his flail and took point whilst the Deathsinger followed, his rapier unsheathed and ready for attack; whatever their differences, when it came to potential battle, they knew the importance of burying any lingering animosity that may hang between them and how to compliment each other's fighting styles admirably.

Tapping the tiefling lightly upon his shoulder, Xen'shai indicated to something shapeless lying in the tunnel up ahead; to this Valen nodded soundlessly, as he too had spotted the dark shape upon the ground. Rather than rushing over, however, both the males dropped into battle stances, each acutely aware that they could be walking into an ambush, and all but crept over to the slumped form; it was only when they drew close enough to be able to distinguish its form that they straightened up and relaxed a little.

"Displacer beast," Valen commented, drawing nearer. "Dead."

Xen'shai approached with a little more caution.

"We assume it is dead, abbil… maybe it would be better to test that theory before we become complacent?"

At that, Valen simply shrugged and aimed a kick at the creature. His foot met it with a dull thud, making the drow wince slightly at his lack of finesse; when the creature did not move, the tiefling turned to face his reluctant companion, a smirk playing upon his lips.

"Like I said: Dead."

"Indeed," deadpanned the Deathsinger. "Bravo."

Crouching down beside the deceased displacer beast, Xen'shai looked over the corpse carefully, trying to discern exactly how it had met its end whilst Valen stood over him, keeping a look out for any potential attack. Upon inspecting the deep but tidy wounds that had been inflicted upon its body, the Deathsinger frowned and then looked up at the tiefling, his expression grave.

"There can be no doubt: these were inflicted by drow-made weapons," he said, indicating to a long slash located along the monster's flank. "The cut is clean, with minimal bruising." He shook his head. "No duergar – or indeed, half elf – did this. This is drow handiwork."

Valen's countenance hardened as he took a long look at the dead displacer beast before staring down the tunnel ahead of them. Although there was nothing to indicate that Jenalil had even been here, this did not mean anything; although it was rare, the distinct lack of a body meant nothing, as the drow did on occasion take prisoners alive, if the purpose suited them.

Noiselessly, the drow stepped up to the tiefling's side; noticing the stony look upon Valen's face, Xen'shai kept his tone light.

"There is no evidence that they took her… indeed that they even met."

The tiefling glanced down at the Deathsinger before continuing to stare into the gloom of the tunnel.

"I am sure there would have been more evidence of a struggle if she had encountered them," Xen'shai continued encouragingly.

At that, Valen just shook his head.

"Well," sighed the Deathsinger "I wouldn't ever have put you down as one to quit quite so easily." He paused for a moment, allowing a reproving hint to enter his voice. "I guess I was wrong on that count." Flicking a length of his silvery hair behind one shoulder in a gesture of causal defiance Xen'shai knelt down to inspect the corpse once more; confident that the warrior wouldn't spot it, he then allowed himself a self indulgent smirk before straightening up again. "Do as you will; I am not leaving this to chance. The Seer has faith in this girl, and I am not about to crawl back to Lith My'athar with my tail between my legs and stories of the prophesied Saviour possibly being captured the Valsharess." With that, he strode forward, a distinct look of challenge upon his face. It worked; upon seeing the challenge, Valen could not help but take the bait, and with an irritated grunt, followed the Deathsinger.

o0o

Jen didn't say a word to Deekin when she went to retrieve him from his hiding place, and after seeing the grim cast of her expression and smelling the unmistakable coppery tang of blood upon her, the kobold decided not to comment, either. Deekin had travelled with the half elven rogue long enough now to recognise that she was no longer his affable 'Boss': she was now the ruthless adventurer of renown, determined to survive, whatever the odds.

Touching a finger to her lips in the universal sign for quiet, Jen led her kobold companion silently back down the high-ceilinged tunnel in which she had just met the drow, barely sparing a glance at the mound of fungal detritus that concealed her erstwhile enemy's anonymous body. She kept to the shadows, as silent as a ghost, leading Deekin away from the site where she had all but assassinated the nameless Red Sister, hoping to put as much distance between herself and the scene, not so much due to any lingering feelings of remorse at what she had been forced to do, but simply due to that fact that if any drow did come looking for their missing party member and inevitably found the corpse, the two of them would be long gone.

Suddenly, the half elf stopped dead in her tracks and held out an open-palmed hand to the kobold, indicating that he should be as still as possible as she craned her head forward, obviously listening intently. From up ahead came the faint yet unmistakable murmur of suppressed voices; upon seeing the look that Jen threw over her shoulder, Deekin scampered silently to hide under a rocky overhang so that he could prepare his spells before Jen skulked forwards in a predatory, almost feline crouch. Cautiously, with her back now flat to the tunnel's glittering walls, the half elf carefully peered around the pitted corner to find two figures standing over a large, dark, slumped form at their feet. Shrinking back instinctively, Jen re-adjusted her grip upon the hilt of her blade and, closing her eyes, quickly ran down her internal list of useful spells, mentally preparing herself to take down the two new interlopers as quickly as possible before they had a chance to alert any more of their kind to her position.

o0o

"The shadows move," Xen'shai murmured, deliberately glancing out of the corner of his eye and keeping his voice low. "There is something up ahead…"

"I know," Valen replied curtly, his own voice barely above a whisper as he brought Devil's Bane to bear in front of him. "I saw…"

o0o

Drawing in a breath and holding it so that she could concentrate more easily, the half elf attuned her ears to nothing but the soft whisper of the footfalls that steadily approached her and tensed, slowly and silently letting the breath she held in go. Finding her centre, she then opened her eyes once more and concentrated fiercely upon the flickering shadows that now heralded the approach of the two forms and waited, sword in hand.

o0o

The two males crept forwards as one: the tiefling champing at the bit in his deep dislike of what he saw as an underhanded way of facing his enemies, the drow more relaxed and completely in his element. Without saying a word, the Deathsinger dropped back half a pace, the verbal elements of a spell already upon his lips as the Weapon Master tightened his grip upon the shaft of his flail, ready to strike at whatever it was that was lying in wait for them.

o0o

Flattening her back against the tunnel wall once again, Jen relied entirely upon her instincts to choose the perfect moment to strike. Bringing her sword to bear, she measured her attack carefully and struck out; leaping forwards, she used the momentum of her body to lend power to the attack and strike both opponents at once as they drew level with her. Almost at once, the larger of the two brought his weapon to bear and deflected her attack, causing the moonstone circlet, slick with the blood of the drow she had already killed, to slip slightly, dimming her world view and all but plunge her into darkness.

o0o

Although they were expecting it, there was still an element of surprise when whatever had been hiding from them burst out from the shadows to the left of the warrior and the bard with a pirouetting leap, sword leading and a long, stone coloured braid trailing. Before the sword could connect, however, Valen raised Devil's Bane with a predatory snarl; the resulting clash of steel against steel rang as clearly as a bell in the once-velvety silence of the tunnel. Working entirely upon instinct, the tiefling then lunged forwards, using his superior size and body weight to propel his smaller assailant backwards against the tunnel wall. After that, he quickly reversed his grip upon his flail and caught its handle under the chin of his attacker and pressed hard against their stone coloured windpipe, hoping to subdue them quickly, only for them to kick out and catch him squarely in the groin with one well-placed foot. Although his armour afforded him some protection, it did not entirely stop the all too familiar stabbing pain from travelling up into his gut, making him wince and gasp in surprise. Rather than letting go, however, he merely hissed a few choice words in Abyssal and leaned hard into the struggling figure in retribution, trying to wrestle them into submission.

o0o

Her eyesight taken away from her, Jen had to use her intuition alone as her mark brought up the hilt of his weapon to deflect her attack, the two blades clashing together with sparks that she could see in the darkness even without the aid of her moonstone. It was becoming quickly apparent that the strength with which her opponent fought vastly outmatched her own, and so rather than even attempting to go head to head with them, she endeavoured to squirm backwards, trying to get free so she could at least adjust the circlet and allow her the blessing of sight once again, meaning she could reassess her options on how to deal with her opponent.

This was simply not to be the case.

With a guttural snarl, her once-victim rammed the handle of his weapon under her chin, nearly choking her, before lifting her bodily and slamming her against the tunnel wall, causing her head to snap back painfully. Desperate now, she kicked out wildly with her feet and felt a certain level of satisfaction when she felt them connect solidly, making her adversary grunt and growl something at her in a language she didn't understand. However, rather than letting her go, her rather crude form of attack only seemed to enrage them further, causing them to try to engulf her and wrestle her into submission. Deciding that although Nathyrra's former advice on keeping quiet in the Underdark was sound for the majority of the time, this was not once of those times at all, and so she found her voice, as breathless as it was, and shrieked a few choice insults of her own in both Common and Elven as she struggled to be free.

o0o

It was the Deathsinger who first realised that there was something gravely wrong with the way the situation was playing out; their assailant, although obviously elven in form, was slightly more heavily built than the drow norm, and fought with a style that spoke of a curious mixture of different influences, none of them drow in origin. Upon reflection later, the dark elf would realise that it was the camouflage spell that she still had in effect that had confused him; before Xen'shai realised it was Jen that they were attacking, Valen was already at the mercy of his ever present battle-lust and had her pinned painfully to the wall by her throat.

"Errdegah-chath! VALEN!" he hissed as loudly as he dared, horror tingeing his voice as it dawned on him that there was a very real possibility the tiefling could quite easily kill the half elf without even realising it. "That is the Jallil D'Ssussun! That is Jenalil! Stop!"

Quickly sheathing his own rapier, the drow lunged forward and grabbed the tiefling by his shoulder in an attempt to wrench the tiefling from the half elf, but found it utterly futile; as much as he hated to admit it, the Weapon Master was simply too strong for him. Still he tried, hoping that it would eventually dawn on Valen through his raging fury that he was actually attacking one of his own.

Feeling someone tugging upon his shoulders furiously, Valen's first impression was that somehow the Deathsinger had been overcome and he was being attacked by another hidden assailant from behind; this soon gave way to the suspicion that Xen'shai was the other attacker and that he had switched sides, just as the warrior had always secretly feared he would. With a grunt, the much larger tiefling flung an arm backwards, hoping to dislodge the drow; it was then that he realised exactly what the other male was trying to get through to him.

This wasn't an enemy. This was Jenalil.

Incredulity cut through his red hot fury like a knife comprised entirely of bitingly cold ice, allowing the part of him that was still capable of reason to step back and survey the struggling figure he had pinned to the wall like an oversized moth.

Even though the rich chestnut locks and creamy coloured skin he was used to had been replaced with an almost chameleon-like ability to blend in with the rock behind her, Valen could now clearly see that is was indeed the half elf they had been seeking pinned in front of him. With a strangled cry, he quickly dropped Devil's Bane from her throat and backed away, almost stumbling over the Deathsinger behind him in his hurry to distance himself from his actions, his cerulean eyes huge in their sockets.

Again…a different place, a different time, but still…again…

The remembrance caught him totally off guard, meaning he had no way prepare his defences against the memory and resulting stab of shame that always came with it. Another ally, hurt by his hand… by his demon. Completely unable to do anything else, he simply watched as the half elf slid to the floor, trying to catch her breath whilst the Deathsinger knelt in front of her, a look of concern gracing his angular features as he tenderly checked her neck for injury. This in turn sparked a much more recent memory in the tiefling – one of the drow and his rather unsavoury suggestions - which consequently ignited a small but blisteringly hot flame of highly specific hatred that was entirely separate from his usual well of anger deep within his breast, triggering an almost irrational urge to bring Devil's Bane down as hard as he could upon the smugly smiling face of the drow. This urge quickly blossomed into a compulsion when Xen'shai then offered Jen his arm and, after helping her back to her feet, casually slipped the same arm around her waist to steady her – a gesture that the drow was then rewarded with a grateful, almost coy smile.

Mentally shaking himself, Valen realised that both the half elf and drow were now regarding him quizzically; realising that he had been glowering at the pair of them, he smoothed his features into as much of an emotionless mask as possible and stepped towards them – albeit stiffly and with some caution - once more.

o0o

"Valen?!"

As abruptly as the attack had begun, it was finished. Gasping with both a lack of air and sheer incredulity, Jen sank slowly to the ground, her head spinning. Instinctively she looked up even though she could see nothing but blackness, causing her neck to crack painfully; this was nothing compared to the acutely stabbing quality of the pain she felt at having attacked two of her own party so recklessly, however.

Raising a decidedly shaky hand, Jen straightened her circlet and subsequently felt a certain level of comfort return to her when colour bled back to the world, allowing her to once again pierce the unnerving, unwavering darkness with ease. Her restored sight immediately made her feel a little better, alleviating some of the bewilderment and guilt that she felt due to the attack, especially when she saw that, apart from mirroring her shocked look, Valen was none the worse for wear.

Initially, she tried to stand, but as soon as she moved, she felt her stomach roil and her head pounded painfully, an obvious symptom of the slight concussion she had suffered when Valen had thrown her against the wall. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut for a moment, she willed the slightly nauseous sensation she was experiencing to pass; as she did, she felt a light touch brush her arm. Thinking that it might have been Valen checking to make sure he hadn't injured her too badly, she smiled gratefully and opened her eyes.

For some unknown reason, Jen felt a tiny, entirely involuntary jab of disappointment when she saw that tiefling had actually hung back, shock still evidently written upon his face, and that it was the Deathsinger who had knelt down before her. Nevertheless, she allowed herself to feel comforted by the encouraging words Xen'shai murmured to her even though they were in drow and therefore she didn't understand a word he was saying; she knew the sentiment behind them though, simply because his face was a picture of concern as his eyes swept over her still camouflaged body, obviously seeking out any visible signs of injury. Realising that her spell was still running, the half elf closed her eyes and concentrated briefly, willing the spell to dissipate. It didn't take long for her to revert back to her usual appearance, the transformation revealing a particularly impressive bruise that had blossomed under her chin; upon seeing this, Xen'shai's brows knitted together even further in consternation for a moment before he almost hesitantly extended an elegantly manicured hand to check the rest of her neck. His touch was light yet firm, his fingers surprising smooth and cool and, much to her dismay, Jen found herself having to forcibly suppress an involuntary shiver at this display of sudden intimacy – obviously sensing that his touch had caused such a reaction, the drow flicked his jade green eyes up to her face, holding her gaze for no more than a second, before lowering them again and allowing himself a small, slightly self-satisfied smile, which he then imperceptibly shot towards Valen, who simply stared back stonily, his tail flicking erratically from side to side.

Watching the split second exchange, Jen jerked her head back a little, wincing as she did so, and tried to stand again. Reeling slightly as her head span, Xen'shai offered her his arm, which she took with a grateful smile – it was either that to fall straight back down again, or worse, throw up. Bracing herself against the tunnel wall to steady herself, she allowed the drow to slip an arm around her waist to support her. At that, the half elf couldn't help but notice the flicker of irritation that flitted across Valen's face before he bullied his expression back to one of careful neutrality; however, there was still no disguising the stiffness of his gait as he approached them with his fists balled, or the tight quality to his voice.

"You've got blood on your face."

Jen reached up and touched her forehead; it seemed hours rather than minutes since she had disposed of the Red Sister.

"I know… I met a drow. She was wearing the uniform of a Red Sister and so I had to deal with her."

"You 'dealt' with a Red Sister?" Valen asked suspiciously. "Were you successful?"

"She is standing here, still alive… I would hazard a guess that she was successful, abbil,' interjected Xen'shai smoothly. Valen said nothing to that and simply glared at the dark elven male.

Seeing his glare, Jen felt a prickle of intense annoyance at his obvious disbelief that she could not handle herself against a drow assailant.

"Of course I was successful," she said rather hotly and, fishing in her belt pouch, brought forth the ruby ring she had taken from the corpse of the Red Sister. "Is this proof enough?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Xen'shai as she brought the ring forth, and even Valen seemed a little taken aback by her prize as he extended a hand to take the bauble from her, causing Jen to feel slightly smug. This smugness was quickly replaced with a sinking feeling of dread as the two males exchanged equally horrified looks with each other, and the tiefling seized her upper arm painfully, dragging her away from the Deathsinger.

"Ouch!" she complained, feeling incredibly shaken. "Watch it!"

"You took this from the body of the drow?" Valen asked intently. "Did you wear it?"

"What?" Jen replied, confused. "I… you… what?"

"Jenalil!" Valen near shouted, his fury now tinged with an edge of panic. "Did you wear this ring? Did you put it on at any point?"

"N…no!" she stammered, alarmed by the tiefling's response. "Do you think I'm stupid? I would never put on a ring before knowing its properties… I just pocketed it; I…I thought we could use it for bartering purposes or something!"

"That is at least something," Xen'shai broke in, his voice shaking a little. "Maybe she won't have realised the ring is in possession of another yet. It is not Jenalil's fault – she was not to know."

"Wishful thinking, Deathsinger," Valen replied grimly before abruptly letting Jen go. He then marched quickly to the end of the tunnel to where the rocks sloped suddenly away from them down into a seemingly immeasurable abyss and, winding his arm back, flung the ring as far as he could away from him into the blackness of the pit ahead of him before striding back. "She may not know who killed one of her precious Red Sisters, but the moment her heart stopped, she would have known that she was dead; mark my words: she will have used the ring's movements to track the person who took it the moment they did so, and if she has any say in the matter, there will be retribution."

Colour drained from the rogue's face as she took an involuntary step backwards at this. Even though Jen knew deep down exactly whom the tiefling was referring to, there was a large part of her that simply didn't want to believe that it could be true. Swallowing hard past the sudden haunted, fear-induced sick feeling that had taken up residence in her chest, the half elf gave both the Weapon Master and the Deathsinger an almost pleading look as if she was begging for them to tell her that her that it simply wasn't true. Rather than comfort her, Valen looked gravely at Jen, his ice-blue eyes boring into her accusingly.

"The Valsharess is on her way – and do not doubt it: you are to blame."