Chapter 12: The great improvisation
Chapter summary: When life removes your eyeballs, make something up.
Disclaimer: Jarlaxle and Athrogate are the property of R.A. Salvatore and Wizards of the Coast. Forgotten Realms and Karsus the archwizard are the property of Wizards of the Coast. Fan characters belong to me. Other canon characters may appear throughout the story. Preview image is the property of iDaisan, commissioned by me a few years ago.
The all-too familiar sensation of darkness and silence was once again upon her. Felicia blinked, but no matter how many times she tried, there was nothing but darkness. Was she underground somewhere? She tried to move only to find that her hands were bound behind her back. Something cold and hard was pressed against her throat.
"You'll sit still, princess, or I'll slit your throat," came the growled threat of a man whose coarse voice she didn't know. She tried to speak but found her voice was muffled by a gag. "No speaking, either. We don't want you casting any of your spells."
It seemed this stranger knew more about her than she did about him. Judging from his accent, she quickly concluded that he had to be some sort of surfacer. Possibly a bandit or some other criminal, what with the underlying anger and distrust in his voice.
The floor beneath her felt like wood and the creaking sounds around them suggested it was an aged building. Outside she heard a strong wind screaming like an angry banshee and the temperature inside was raising the hairs on her bare arms and back. It didn't feel like she had a blindfold on her, yet she couldn't see anything.
"You are as hospitable as an orc," remarked a smoother, male voice, this one sounding strangely familiar, though Felicia struggled to place it. "I would request that you withdraw your steel."
"And if I don't?" Coarse voice asked.
"I do lack a ruffian in my collection of statues," Smooth voice countered. A wizard. He had to be. Felicia could easily imagine the appraising look that he gave the brute. The weapon was moved away from her throat.
No doubt this wizard was Netherese and was working together with the kidnappers. If he hoped to use her against Karsus, however, he'd be sorely disappointed. If anything, should that undead busy-body even find the time to notice her missing, most likely Lilith would be upon this place with a horde of demons before any of them could blink. She wondered if the wizard was aware of that.
A strong wind hit the building and brought about more creaks and groans. Some of the wind brushed up against her flesh, making her shiver. It seemed the house was dry, but then again it didn't sound like it was raining.
"Be a courteous host and put a blanket around her," Smooth voice ordered someone. There was a moment's silence.
"Do as he says," added Coarse voice. So there was a third person in the room. Felicia heard some scuffling and then a rough but warm piece of fabric was placed around her back and shoulders. It felt a lot like the cheap wool that low-income surfacers wore. The one putting it on her had large, warm hands. They made her think of the farmer who had taken up the role of one of her personal guards. He had been the one to escort her to the temple. She remembered, in the haze of the attack earlier, as memories returned to her, that he had gone down, two arrows sticking out of his torso. Neither had seemed to hit a vital spot, but it had been hard to tell in the darkness. She hoped he was alright, though it was very likely that he was dead by now. Her gut wrenched with the idea, for he was a good and clever man.
Someone had disrupted her spell, too, she remembered, and then she'd been knocked out. None of that explained how she'd gone blind, though she'd hazard a guess that it was the wizard's doing. Not that she couldn't counter – or absorb – spells that brought about such things, but there was a stinging sensation in and around her eyes that suggested it hadn't been magically induced.
Great, someone had poured acid into her eyes, or burned them. At least they'd done it while she was still unconscious, though she couldn't imagine anything short of a powerful enchantment to have the ability to keep her out cold during the procedure. Not to mention they'd had to have a healer with them to stop the acid or fire from spreading past the eyes. A cleric, no doubt, but of which deity was anyone's guess. As a Dawn Titan, especially with her past, Hekate wasn't terribly popular with the other gods. Not that she had any outright enemies either, though. They had done their bare minimum to heal her, too, it seemed, judging from the pain that still lingered.
There was something about this place that tickled her magical senses and had butterflies flutter about in her stomach. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it felt powerful and strangely familiar.
"It will rain soon," a third voice said, this one sounding like the voice of a simpleton.
"This place doesn't leak," the ruffian with a sword informed him. "Some wind'll get through the cracks, but the roof is sound."
"I don't like this place," the simpleton went on. She could hear a deep level of concern in his voice. "How much longer until we're done?"
"As soon as her father gives me what I seek, we will release her back to him," the wizard explained. "It should be one day, at most."
"So around midnight tomorrow?" the ruffian asked. More silence followed, and since there were no objections or more questions being asked, Felicia figured the mage had nodded. That was bad for her, though. Around midnight tonight was when she was supposed to undergo her initiation ritual to become a torchbearer, the most devoted clerics of Hekate. Even if Karsus went along with whatever this wizard had come up with, she'd be returned to Eileanar and not the temple she'd been travelling to. After all, her father had voiced his disapproval of her religious devotion on more than one occasion. He wouldn't care if she missed her initiation.
It wasn't one she could skip, either. Hekate was intrinsically connected to fate, and so a missed initiation was considered the goddess' will that Her cleric would not become a torchbearer. Yet at the same time, obstacles like these were something that Hekate encouraged Her followers to overcome. Should they succeed, it would be a sign of the goddess' favour. After all, it proved beyond any doubt how much the cleric really wanted to devote themselves to Her.
Felicia was happy to tackle any such challenge, even blind, gagged and bound as she was. She could still feel her holy symbol around her neck, but even without it she had a connection to her goddess in heart, mind and soul that was stronger than any spell she knew. It was just as well she couldn't see anything, for it was in darkness that she had found Hekate in the first place. She brought to mind her dreams and visions of the goddess, coupled with the clerics she'd interacted with in the temple. Some connections had formed that were very strong, so strong that all she had to do was reach out on an intuitive level and they'd know if something was wrong.
She could see one woman in particular, a fiery redhead from the west, and then she willed her spirit to leave her body.
Upon the surface of the grounded part of Netheril's empire did one building still stand. Dwarven built, with large, adamantine doors into which had been magically carved a grand sigil of religious importance. The goddess that this place belonged to was depicted in threes at the entrance, but that wasn't what was most striking about this place.
No, what truly stood out was the circle of green plants and trees that made up a very unique oasis. In their wisdom, the torchbearers of Hekate had located an underground river that the dwarves had helped them connect to the surface. The fact that part of it was built to be underground – in honour of Hekate Chthonia, the subterranean version of their many-faceted goddess – had earned them quite a bit of respect from the Stout Folk. Furthermore, seeing as the river was below ground, it had less chance of going dry than other water sources. Some believed, however, that a divine blessing rested upon the place as well.
Whatever the cause, the bountiful, green garden was a beauty to behold even after sunset. The clerics grew their herbs there and their children had a place to play should their mothers be short on family members to help look after them.
As beautiful as the outside of the temple was, however, the interior did in no way pale by comparison. Quite the contrary, clerics and dwarves alike had outdone themselves with carvings and other designs, and fresh flowers from the garden always helped liven things up. The ground floor had large but sturdy windows through which the sun could come in and bring its warmth and light. On that floor was the library, kitchen, laundry room, dining hall and altar room. Two more floors followed – the one right below held the wine cellar, food storage, study hall and bedrooms. Below that again were the bathrooms and meditation rooms. Some rumours suggested a portal existed down there as well, though where it led to only the torchbearers knew.
Selene, junior torchbearer of Hekate, was in deep meditation in the altar room when she heard her name echo in her mind in a voice not her own. An immediate sense of urgency came over her and her blue-green eyes opened. Before the three-figured statue of Hekate hovered a spirit, dressed in the ritual garb of the faith.
She'd recognise that woman anywhere, despite the grotesque display of her missing eyeballs. "Felicia!"
"I don't have much time," the Netherese princess said. "I've been kidnapped and am held hostage in a wooden cottage. It's old and creaky, but well protected from rain."
Selene blinked. "Who-"
"They've blinded, gagged and bound me," Felicia went on, "but I was able to reach you through our joined faith. I will do what I can to free myself and get to the temple in time, but I will need some outside help to do so."
The priestess' heart was a mix of emotions, but she reminded herself to stay calm and logical, as that was the only thing that would work. "Is there anything else you can tell me about this cottage?"
"There's a familiar power in this place," the spirit went on. "It might be I'm at a crossroad."
Selene lit up. "In that case, I will petition Hekate to send the Teletarchai your way. They will see to your initiation."
"But I don't know the ritual," Felicia argued.
The cleric smiled, not the least bit discouraged. After all, the senior torchbearers had appointed her with the task of assisting Felicia with her initiation, and so she had learned every step by heart. "Just purify the area like you normally would. White sage will do. The angels will bring you some, along with the feather and bowl to disperse the smoke with, unless there's some of it there already. Then light a white candle and invoke Hekate Propolos, the guide, Phosphorus the light-bearer and Kleidouchos, the keybearer who gives access, just as you've done in the past. Just remember to use the same gestures that we perform during the Rite of Her Sacred Fires."
"What do I do, then?" the spirit asked.
"Meditate on the strophalos and your place in it," Selene went on, "and then speak your pledge to Hekate in your own words. The ones who kidnapped you, are they all men?"
"Yes," the princess replied. "The three of them that I know of. Criminals rarely work alone, though, and I suspect there was a cleric involved in the process of blinding me."
"I will petition Hekate Damasandra, the one who subdues such men, to aid you," the priestess said without hesitation. "As for this enemy cleric, I will come and deal with them. Are you able to contact your guards?"
"Yes," Felicia replied. "One of them was wounded and I don't know his fate. He was escorting me here."
Selene nodded. "I will petition Hekate Soteira, the saviour, to do what She can for him. Oh, and after you've meditated upon your place in the Great Wheel of Hekate and spoken your pledge, you must present your offering."
Confusion came to the spirit's face. "What can I possibly offer in my current situation?"
The priestess was unsure and could only shrug.
"Very well, I will have to improvise," the princess concluded. "Anything else I need?"
Selene explained the rest of what Felicia had to do and then the spirit departed. Immediately the cleric went into a deep, meditative state and willed her own spirit to follow. Thus she soon discovered the quickest path to the princess, as well as the amount of enemies and their placements. Next she offered up her prayer to Soteira and Teletarchai, as promised, before leaving to gather the senior torchbearers. While she was perfectly capable of all the things she'd promised, only they could amass the favour needed to correct a great injustice.
Felicia had been in conversation with one of her guards when her spirit had been forcefully dragged back to her body. She collapsed shortly afterwards, shivering and trembling uncontrollably from a sudden drop in energy. It was as if she'd been drained to a mere inch of her life.
"Wasn't that a bit much?" asked the simpleton, a surprising amount of concern in his voice.
"It's a necessity where this woman is concerned," the wizard explained in a voice similar to when mothers explained to their children the necessity of using the latrine. "This way she's out of spells, both arcane and divine. You may remove the gag and untie her, if you wish."
"It took you long enough to do," Coarse voice cut in.
"Preparing such a spell takes time," was all the wizard said, and tersely, and that seemed to be the end of that conversation.
"He could have just prepared it earlier," the ruffian mumbled. He probably could have, Felicia silently agreed, but considering the nature of the spell, if word got out to other arcanists about its existence, chances were he'd be imprisoned. There was a silent agreement between arcanists to not use such magic, after all, and it was punishable in a way similar to killing a familiar.
There was a moment's silence, apart from the sound of the wind and someone's retreating footsteps. Felicia remained on the floor, unable to move, although her gag was removed. "She's a priestess?" the simpleton asked, and there was a certain level of... apprehension? in his voice.
"As is the woman outside," the ruffian reminded him sharply. "This one is powerless. It's obvious which one you don't want to anger."
So it was a female cleric that had assisted in blinding her. That didn't tell Felicia which faith the priestess belonged to, however.
"I fear Shar as much as the next person, brother," the simpleton countered, solving that mystery and granting the princess much-needed clarity, "but she's not the only deity, or goddess, whose wrath is terrifying."
Felicia coughed violently. She'd attempted to speak, but found she'd been gagged for too long and had ended up with a coarse throat.
The ruffian grumbled something she couldn't hear. "Give her some fresh, clean water and a bit to eat. The mage may be content to drain her of all her magic, but she'll die if she's left like this and then she'll be of no use to us."
"What food should I give?" the simpleton asked even as Felicia could hear someone rummaging around.
"Heat up the leftover lentil soup and fetch some garlic bread from the stove," the ruffian ordered, and for a moment he sounded more like a farmer than a bandit. Were these two yet another case of honest men being forced into life as outlaws because of the encroaching desert created by the phaerimm in response to the gluttonous overuse of magic by the Netherese mages? Felicia felt a moment's sympathy and hoped Damasandra wouldn't be too hard on them.
The wind howled and caused creaking noises among what sounded like trees. She immediately berated herself for not taking note of that earlier. Of course they were away from the desert somewhere! But now she no longer had the power to contact her guards about it!
"We're out of fresh water," the simpleton said, his voice sounding distant, as if he was in another room. "We have only this strange tea and it's cold... what are these red things?"
"Pomegranate seeds," the ruffian said. Felicia's heart somehow found the strength to skip a beat. Already the information that these two bandits had garlic was enough to give her hope, but if they also had pomegranate...
"The Sharran made this earlier," the simpleton said with concern.
"To use in a ritual sacrifice of our captive's guard, but we killed him, remember?" the ruffian shot back. Felicia's heart did an interesting thing of sinking while feeling relief at the same time. "She's not going to need this, which is probably why it's gone cold. Just get rid of the seeds and lavender."
A plan formed in Felicia's mind as she heard more rummaging.
"Do I heat it back up?" the simpleton asked.
The princess decided to cut in at that point. "I can drink cold tea," she managed to croak out. She had no time to wait if she wanted to regain her voice, and lavender would do her throat a world of good.
"Did you hear that?" the ruffian called to his brother. "She says she'll drink it cold."
"Oh good," the simpleton said. "Less work for me."
"Yes, well," his brother continued, "make sure you clean the table, too, so you'll have something to place it all on. I need some fresh air." Then Felicia heard him leave.
Some more rummaging later, as well as the sound of a table being moved, and she was lifted up to sit straight. Her hands were unbound and led to grasp a cup. She immediately downed its content, feeling the sweet flavour of pomegranate and lavender soothe her parched throat. It was, in fact, sweeter than what she was used to. "Did you sweeten this?" she asked the simpleton, who was still moving about. Despite the good sensation of the liquid on her throat, she still ended up coughing.
"No, the priestess did," he explained. "I saw her put some honey into it earlier."
As a cleric, Felicia knew that pomegranate seeds, lavender and honey were never used in sacrificial rituals. No doubt the Sharran had said so to make sure no-one would dare touch the mixture. No, this was probably meant to be used medicinally later on. Felicia found it fitting for her to be drinking it, but it served an even greater purpose beyond restoring her throat.
It was, in fact, the perfect libation for the torchbearer ritual. After all, Hekate loved all things pomegranate, lavender and honey.
A plate was placed before her and she was given help to grab a piece of garlic bread. The man had even torn it up into smaller pieces for her. What a darling! She'd be sure to ask Hekate to go easy on him, although she would still demand justice for her slain guard. It took a while, but a bowl of hot soup arrived soon enough. She was more than happy to eat what she could.
Feeling renewed in body at least, she managed to convince the simpleton to leave the garlic bread and tea. She tried to think of ways to persuade him into bringing her a white candle and give her some alone time, but seeing as she was blind, that one would be a bit tricky to pull off. It seemed straightforward honesty was the only way to go.
"I understand that you're a pious man?" she asked when he returned.
There was some scuffling of his feet before he answered. "Always have been. I leave prayers to Kozah, Jannath, Jergal and Amaunator most of the time. I used to pray to Tyche whenever my brother and I went on adventures, but that was when we were still children." She could hear delight, if not outright rapture, in his voice as he spoke of the goddesses of earth and luck.
"Do you pray to Shar?" she pressed. An uncomfortable silence followed.
"I stay away from her clerics," he said evasively. That told her a lot more than he probably thought.
"I serve neither Selûne nor Shar," she went on. "In fact, I have nothing to do with their petty conflict, and the same is true for my goddess." There was another uncomfortable silence, but at least he didn't leave. Felicia continued. "You and your brother are quite hospitable for outlaws. Have you done this all your lives or is it something new?" After all, none of the deities he'd mentioned had any direct connections to thieves or bandits, apart from Tyche perhaps, and he'd already explained that one.
"We grew up on a farm," he said, "but we had to abandon it because-" he grew quiet.
"Because of the growing desert?" she finished for him. Another moment of silence followed.
"Yes," he confessed.
"Do you know why the desert is growing?"
"No."
"A race of creatures powerful with magic are doing it," she explained. "They're called the phaerimm and they use life-draining and magic-draining spells to do it."
"But why?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised and interested.
"Because we have too many flying enclaves," she explained as simply as she could. She heard some scraping against the wood and then the sound of him sitting down. "We mages use too much magic to keep up our flying enclaves and it's slowly killing the phaerimm. They have no other choice but to cast their spells on these lands if they wish to survive."
"That's not right," the simpleton said and she sincerely hoped that he meant the enclaves. "Why not lower some of the cities to the ground? Make a deal with these... phaerimm?"
She smiled. "That's what I suggested. I imagine that's why I'm here."
"What do you mean?" he sounded genuinely concerned. Excellent.
"The arcanist who hired you," she went on. "I know his voice from among those who don't like my idea. I suspect he's one of the mages who want to keep all the cities in the sky, which will continue to kill the land below. My father is one of the people I've managed to persuade, and he's very powerful and influential. No doubt your mage wishes to sway him otherwise." Not that she could say any of this with certainty, of course, but the simpleton didn't need to know that.
"Are you sure of this?" he asked all the same, though judging from the tone in his voice, he didn't sound hard to convince. "He did say that he wanted something from your father."
"His capitulation on the issue, no doubt," she countered, not missing a beat. "We've already established that I have no religious enemies. If anything, I was merely on my way to my initiation. A simple and harmless ritual, albeit important. No, I think I'm held here for political reasons, which won't help anyone in this dying empire."
"You would seek to save it, even now?" His voice was full with disbelief, as if he struggled to grasp the fact that mages like her existed. It very nearly broke her heart.
"Of course," she said and meant it. As foolish as the Netherese were, she'd never give up on them. "There's plenty of people, young and old, mundanes and arcanists, that support me. Many who are ready to abandon their lofty homes to come and live on the surface with the rest of you, myself included." If she did, she reasoned, she might even find and reunite with her sisters.
"But how can you do that now?" he asked, despair rising in his voice. That was no good, she needed him focused. "Your eyes, they-"
"The most important thing for me to do tonight is to get through my initiation," she explained. "My goddess is said to bestow her favour on those who manage to overcome any obstacles to perform it. Though I will need some help."
He was quiet for a while. "How will that help you get back home?"
An amused smile graced her features. "Surely a religious man such as yourself need not ask! Don't you know how the gods work? Little they do is ever straightforward."
A low chuckle escaped his lips. "That's true, like this one time with Tyche-" he began, but then grew silent. Felicia heard some footsteps and then a door opened and closed. The silence lasted a bit longer until he finally spoke. "What do you need?"
With her hope renewed did the princess tell him all that he needed to know.
