Chapter 21.

Crossing

"People know you for what you've done, not for what you plan to do." - Anon

o - o - o - o - o

The next morning, Esme was woken by heavy banging on her bedroom door. Her first instinct was to pull the blankets over her head and ignore it, but it grew more and more insistent, so much so that the walls began shaking with the force of the pounding. The drow's absence, it seemed, had been noticed at last. She rolled out of bed, stretched, and opened the door as she smothered a yawn. Shayla stalked in, her eyes blazing and her staff in hand.

"The drow is gone," the elf said angrily. "What do you know about this?"

"Gone? What do you mean, gone? He was in a locked cage."

"Don't feign ignorance to me, Esmerelle. You were seen by several townsfolk talking to the drow yesterday. So far, nobody has spoken an accusation against you, but it won't be long until they do."

"How has he gone?"

"We don't know," Shayla replied, grinding her teeth. "The cage is in the same state this morning as it was last night. The last people to see the drow - our very own innkeeper and one of the town's militia - claim his cage was in sound form late in the night, and they don't recall seeing anybody near the drow, other than a couple of the knights."

"Perhaps the knights took the drow, then."

"And why would they do that?"

Esme shrugged. Locking the cage again had been Kiree's idea, and she was glad the halfling had suggested it, because it would serve to confuse the locals. Nobody who broke out of a place took the effort to lock it again, just as thieves didn't lock houses back up once they'd broken into them. With any luck, it would make it seem as if the drow had been spirited away with magic.

"Shayla," said Kiree, "Esme was in the room with me all night. She never left, or I would have heard."

"Both of you, get dressed and packed. We're leaving within half an hour."

Shayla stormed from the room like a one-woman hurricane, her hair all but bristling in anger. Esme exchanged a guilty glance with Kiree, and they both began to dress and pack away their night clothes. Shayla was going to be terrible to travel with for the next few days.

They didn't even get chance to eat breakfast. As soon as everybody was ready, Shayla bustled them out of the door and round to the stable at the back of the inn. Duncan was waiting there with their horses, and a group of mounted men were just leaving the courtyard. They were all carrying crossbows and spears, and had sleeping rolls on the backs of their saddles.

"What's all that about?" Esme asked Duncan as she accepted her horse's reins from him.

"Scouting parties. They're going after the drow."

"Shayla told me about that. Do you think they'll catch him?"

"Not likely. They've no idea which way he went, and drow can move fast, when they want to. He's probably halfway back to the Underdark by now."

"You were sleeping out here in the stable. Didn't you hear anything, or see anything?"

"Oh, sure. Heard a loud banging noise that woke me from a great dream about slaying a dragon. Stuck my head out of the stable long enough to see a pair of knights arguing with a couple of the locals. Then they all left, and I went back to my 'bed'. Mind you, I did hear the knights talk as they passed the barn by. They weren't too happy with the local militia ordering them around. One of them even insinuated it would be best if they took the drow and did away with him quickly."

"Did you tell that to the townspeople?"

"Of course. Why do you think they're all so cheesed off at the knights?" he grinned. "Can't really stand knights, myself. Too elite. They look down on you unless you're noble-born."

"And what do you think really happened to the drow?"

"Me? I think some more of his people came back for him. How else could he have escaped so efficiently, and with so little sound, and no sign of his passing? I reckon I'd've heard the knights taking him away. They tend to rattle when they walk, and I doubt he would have gone quietly."

"Duncan, stop putting ideas in Esme's head," said Shayla.

"Weren't you the one who said I had to stop... what was it... coddling her?" Duncan replied. It was strange to hear him argue with Shayla. He normally took her side. "She asked my opinion, and she got it. Two adults are allowed to hold a conversation without asking your permission right... right?"

"I'm sorry," Shayla sighed, though she didn't look too pleased about it. "This escaped drow has me on edge. The thought of it loose on the surface... I have already advised the people here to send messengers to the nearest towns and villages to warn them of the potential danger. I fear that they'll never catch it, now."

"Would you like me to try and pick up the trail?" Daeghun asked calmly.

"No, those fool scouts have probably trampled it with their horses by now. And the drow is mostly likely back in the Underdark. We'd only be wasting our time. But at least the townsfolk will be prepared in future. They won't let their guards down for a long time."

"If we leave now, we can be at the river before nightfall."

"Then let's waste no more time here. The sooner we reach Secomber, the better."

o - o - o - o - o

By late afternoon, the group had arrived at the bridge across the Dessarin River. And they weren't the only ones; over a dozen people were clustered around the bridge, some of them leading mules and horses, others on foot. At the foot of the bridge, several men were standing with their arms folded across their chests, resolutely blocking the way.

"We have a right to cross!" one of the queued men, a merchant, Esme decided, called out.

"And cross you will, but not right now," one of the men blocking the way said calmly. "As I explained to your friends, the bridge has been damaged and we're working to fix it. If you try to cross it, you risk not only your own lives, but you could collapse the whole thing."

"I wonder what's happening here," Lucas said quietly to their group as he dismounted. "I'll see what I can find out." He walked up to the waiting men, clapped one of them affably on the shoulder, and began to engage him in quiet conversation.

"Regardless of what happened, I doubt we'll be crossing any time soon," said Duncan quietly, loosening his horse's girth to give the animal a rest.

"You know, our luck's been really bad since we left your people, Shayla," Kiree mused. "Perhaps Brandobaris is working against us."

"More likely we experience problems because of the escaped drow," said Shayla.

"Well," Lucas said, returning to their group, "it seems the bridge has been damaged during recent flooding... boulders washed down the river have destabilised some of its foundations. The builders here are from Goldenfields, and they're working to fix the problem, but it could be days or weeks yet. Apparently the waters are still quite high, and there's some localised flooding which is causing problems."

"Looks like we won't be going to Secomber after all," Esme said, trying her best to sound disappointed but secretly relieved she wouldn't have to pass the temple of Lathander where she had grown up.

"Not necessarily," said Daeghun. "We could travel down-river, where the river is neither as deep nor as swift. Crossing there should be relatively easy."

"Great."

"Esmerelle cannot swim," Shayla explained. "We would have to cross at a point that is shallow enough for her to stand."

"I'm not all that fond of swimming myself," Belvar said, patting Esme's arm. "We dwarves weren't really built for it. Our bones are heavy, and we tend to sink easily."

"Daeghun, head down-river and see if you can find us a suitable crossing-place. We'll follow behind you."

"I would recommend," Lucas interjected, "that you travel up-river to search for a crossing place, not down-river."

"But the river will be faster and deeper up-river," Daeghun replied.

"But down-river, the channel will open out onto a flood plain. The flow might be slower, but it will be wider to cross, and we'll have to contend with mud and potential quick-sand as well as river water. Up-stream, however, the river cuts through rocky hills. The ground will be firmer, and we'll likely see many large boulders dropped by the waters during previous floods."

"Up-river it is, then," Daeghun conceded, and set out on foot. As Esme mounted Blaze once more, she wondered if her day could possibly get any worse.

The last rays of light of the setting sun were colouring the sky and the trees of the woods red by the time Esme and the others caught up with Daeghun. They found him near a waterfall, and he led them a short distance up the river, to the point where the waterfall fell. Just behind it was a haphazard line of boulders jutting out above the surface of the water, which gushed around them, swirling debris back and forth. After she noticed two dead stoat bodies being thrown around by the current and tangled in the leaves and branches that were caught behind the rocks, Esme stopped looking too closely at the debris.

"We can cross here," said Daeghun, indicating the rocks. They were all wet, and some had a covering of green algae.

"I don't think I can cross that," she said, thinking of the force of the water as it cascaded over the fall. If she fell in... she doubted she'd survive. "Besides, how will the horses cross?"

"Horses can swim, they will be fine. As for the rest of us... I've already been across to the other side and found a place to camp. I'll tie a rope to a tree on this side, then take it to the other side and tie the other end to another tree. You can use it to hold on to as you cross, to steady yourself."

"It doesn't really seem all that safe..."

"Daeghun and I can walk on either side of you," Duncan suggested. "That way, if you feel like you're going to fall, you can just grab on to one of us. How does that sound?"

"I suppose it would be okay," she relented at last.

"Good," said Daeghun. "I'll run a rope over now and take the horses with me on the first crossing, then they're out of the way."

"We should take our shoes off," said Shayla, sitting down and removing hers. "It will be easier to cross bare-footed than with shoes which might slip."

Esme chose a dry spot on the ground to sit on, and removed her shoes and her socks. The latter went into her bag, and the former she tied together by the laces and fastened to the pommel of Blaze's saddle. When she was finished, she tied the horse's reins to a lead-rope Daeghun was carrying, and watched as he led all three horses into the water. It quickly became obvious that the water was deep; the horses were up to their necks, swimming along beside Daeghun who walked calmly over the slippery boulders. When the elf reached the other side of the river, he led the horses up onto the bank and tethered them to a tree. Then he took out another rope and tied it firmly around a tree trunk before setting off again with the rope in his hand. When he reached the shore again, he tied the rope around the closest tree to their group, and Esme was left to marvel at how quickly and agilely he had moved over the rocks.

"I recommend," said Shayla, "that Kiree and I go first, followed by Daeghun, then Esmerelle and Duncan, and finally Belvar and Lucas. Does that suit everybody?"

When there were no objections, Kiree climbed down the bank and mounted the first of the rocks. She didn't hold on to the rope that Daeghun had run across, but she didn't particularly look like she needed to. If anything, she was even more agile than Daeghun, and she hopped from rock to rock as if she'd been crossing rivers all her life. When Shayla and Daeghun followed Kiree, Esme hefted her pack on her back and slowly stepped down onto the closest partially submerged boulder. Duncan hovered close behind her in case she felt wobbly, and she slowly began the crossing, carefully placing her bare feet on the cold, algae-covered boulders as she gripped the rope with both hands.

It was one of the most terrifying experiences of her life. Every sound and smell was amplified. The gushing of the waterfall was the roar of a hungry beast. The smell of the algae on the rocks was pungent, not aided by the stench of the decaying, bloated corpses of the stoats that had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the floodwaters.

"We're halfway there," she heard Duncan say. She nodded, but didn't look up at him. She was too busy watching the rocks as she carefully placed her feet, trying not to let them slip.

"Look out everybody!" Kiree called, a note of panic in her voice. "Log!"

This time, Esme did look up, just in time to see what looked like an entire tree being carried swiftly by the river. As it rounded a bend, it swung out so that its trunk was at right angles to the banks. Her heart began to flutter wildly in her chest. It's going to hit us! she thought desperately. And it did, colliding with everybody who was on the rocks. Esme felt it slam into the boulder she was standing on, causing it to rock. Her feet slipped and she slid into the water still holding onto the safety rope. Around her she heard shouting and yelling as the others fell into the river too, and the rope she was holding began to bow with the weight of everybody holding onto it. She felt herself lowered further into the water, which was soaking her clothes, dragging her down. Her fingers, freezing cold from being drenched, felt like they were burning on the rope.

"Hold on, Esmerelle!" Duncan called. She turned her head to the side and saw him making his way slowly along the rope towards her, but it was no use. A wave of cold water rolled over her head and as she coughed and spluttered, her fingers slipped. Involuntarily, she tried to scream, and water gushed into her mouth. She exhaled, trying to spit out the water and at the same time being dragged inexorably down by the current. The last thing she saw before she disappeared over the edge of the waterfall was Belvar and Lucas losing their grips on the rope too.

o - o - o - o - o

Awareness returned to Esme, and the first thing she was aware of was numbness in her right hand. She opened her eyes and found herself lying on a cold hard floor beneath her blanket, her head resting on her right arm, which was slowly cutting off the circulation to her extremity. She lifted her head and her hand began to tingle as blood flowed back into it, but the act of lifting her head brought new awareness; pain, in her temple. She raised her left hand and the tips of her fingers came into contact with material wrapped around her head. She tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but nausea quickly forced her back down and her eyes closed. She drifted for a short time, wanting to wake and move, but too tired and cold to make a real attempt.

What had happened? The last thing she could remember was cold river water gushing over her head, and somebody trying to hold her body up, to prevent her from inhaling half of the river. It must have worked, because wherever she was, she was at least alive. But where were her friends? Had they swum to shore or been carried even further than she? Which of them had saved her? Surely not Kiree, who was too small, or Belvar, who was a self-professed poor swimmer, and probably not Lucas, who would probably have struggled in the current himself. Nor could it have been Shayla, because the elf would have healed her injuries immediately instead of bandaging them. It must have been either Duncan or Daeghun who had saved her... but which one? And where were the others?

She fell asleep again, and when she came to, with most of her wits finally collected, she opened her eyes to see a fire burning merrily in front of her. It wasn't a large fire; just big enough to warm her, but not big enough to banish all of the shadows around her, and she inched gratefully towards it, crawling along the ground on her belly like a grub. The blessed heat of the flames warmed her cold body, and it was only then she realised her clothes were still damp. That meant that neither Kiree nor Shayla were here, because neither of them would have left her in wet clothing all this time.

"I feared you might not wake," said a strange voice from across the fire.

Esme felt her heart skip a beat in fright, and she pushed herself up, trying to appear alert. Though the voice did not belong to any of her friends, there was something familiar about it. It was a voice she had heard elsewhere before... but where? As she sat up and looked around for the speaker, she noticed for the first time that she was inside a cave. It wasn't a high cave; she could probably have stood normally inside it, but not on her tiptoes - still, it was shelter from the elements, and she was grateful for it.

"Who's there?" she asked, hearing her voice quavering but unable to do anything about it. "Show yourself." From the deep shadows of the cave, two points of red light drew nearer, followed by a halo of silvery hair. The drow she had rescued from the cage finally materialised in the firelight, and he squatted down to observe her in silence. "You! You're the one who pulled me from the river?"

"Yes."

"How? And why? How did you even know where to find me?"

"I knew because I followed you when you left the town with your friends," he said, his voice quiet and surprisingly calming.

"I thought you went north, towards the High Forest?"

"That's what you suggested. It's not what I did."

"Why did you follow me? And why did you save me? You took a great risk, jumping into the river to pull me out."

"And you took a great risk opening my cage to set me free. We could spend the rest of the night discussing our heroism, but it won't get us anywhere. Here, you are weak. You should eat." From beside the fire he picked up a packet of something and handed it to her. She recognised it immediately.

"These are the rations Belvar bought in Red Larch," she said, feeling her anger stir, though it sent slivers of pain through her head. "You went through my pack?"

"Yes, to find bandages. I had none, and you were bleeding badly."

She raised a hand to her temple again, feeling the rough material. When she brought her hand down in front of her face, she found her fingertips slicked red with blood. "I have healing potions in my pack," she said, her mouth going suddenly dry as a spell of dizziness overtook her. She'd never been injured like this before, and she'd always believed that these sorts of injuries would only ever happen to other people. By nature, she was a healer. The thought that she might one day need healing had never even occurred to her.

"Most of your bottles were broken inside your pack," he replied, picking up her damp, water-stained bag and reaching inside to withdraw three bottles. "These are the only ones left intact. They weren't labelled, and I didn't want to give you something in case it was poison."

"Poison!" she said with a harsh laugh. "Why would I keep poison in my pack, right next to my food?"

"Perhaps to deter thieves."

"Two of those are potions of strength, and the other is a potion of clarity, to defog the mind. They won't do me any good. I need Shayla. Where are my friends?"

"I don't know," he said, settling back onto his heels. "They were all knocked into the river, like you. I saw some of them strike out for the banks, though some went to the far side, and some to the near. Others I saw washed down-river with you, but I lost sight of them when I jumped in."

"I have to find them," she said. She pushed herself upwards, and fell back as the dizziness returned.

The drow stood and stepped backwards, blocking the mouth of the cave. "It's dark, raining, and you are injured," he said. "You're not going anywhere."

"You can't keep me here. This isn't a cage."

"No, it's not. But I've already had to carry you here once. If you leave, I'll only have to carry you back when you pass out from blood loss."

"Then you have to go and find them for me."

"No. They'd kill me on sight. Now eat. As you said to me, you need to keep up your strength. Your friends will find you eventually, or you will find them, but not right now."

To disguise the rising unease she felt at the drow's insistence that she remain, she opened the rations and nibbled on them. The hard biscuits had been softened by the water, but her empty stomach didn't care. She ate slowly, wishing she had something to drink, but didn't ask for her canteen yet. She was obviously stuck with her saviour for the time being, so she needed to make the most of the situation.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Kalan'Tel Z'Ress of House Maerret."

"Is there something shorter I can call you?"

"Kalan'Tel is fine."

"Well, Kalan'Tel, it's nice to officially meet you," she said, holding out her hand. He cocked his head and looked at it. "It's customary to shake hands the first time you meet someone."

He moved warily, as if suspecting some deception, and slowly took her hand, gripping it lightly and shaking it. "Strange custom," he said, when she released his hand. "What's the point of it?"

"I... don't really know," she admitted. "It's just something we do."

"And all surfacers greet each other in this way?"

"It depends. You probably wouldn't greet a king or a queen like that. I think you have to bow for royalty."

"Bowing, yes," he said, with an enthusiastic nod. "In the Underdark, inferiors bow to their superiors. To do anything else would result in a public flogging. To take their hand, to touch them... an immediate execution."

"Kalan'Tel," she said, supressing the shiver that ran through her body at his casual discussion of execution, "why did you save me from the river?"

"Because you saved me from the cage."

"Yes, but... why? Did you feel you owed me some debt? Did your conscience make you do it?"

He frowned for a moment, then took some wood that was drying by the fire and threw it onto the flames. "Eat," he said. "You should keep up your strength."

"Why were you following me?" she persisted. "You couldn't have known that my life would be in danger at the river. Surely you weren't intending to follow me until you could repay me. It was dangerous to do so; both Daeghun and Shayla are excellent trackers. They would have noticed your presence eventually, and they would not have been pleased to see you. Not after I assured them I had nothing to do with your escape."

"I was careful," he said, though he suddenly looked more hesitant.

"Kalan'Tel, please tell me why you were following me."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not. But I can try. Please?"

He sighed, and crouched down beside the fire again. "Do you remember the things I told you I'd done? The things I did during raids on the surface, and back home, in the Underdark?" She closed her eyes for a moment, and nodded. She'd never get the mental images of those things out of her head, and it made her feel sick just thinking about them. But the dark elf seemed not to notice her discomfort. "At first, I was like any other drow in the Underdark. We live with pain every day of our lives. Punishment for failure is almost always lethal, but beatings are given regularly, particularly to those considered 'deserving'. Do you know anything of how our society works?"

"Only that it's evil. That's what my friends tell me, anyway."

"Maybe it is. I feel like I don't know what evil is anymore. Am I evil? Are my people evil? Are the illithids or the beholders evil? But I digress. In our society, Lolth is the goddess revered above all others. She blesses her priestesses with magic, much like yours, except designed to inflict pain as well as cure it. Only women can become high servants of Lolth. Men can only hold power by becoming mages or favoured fighters of houses, but even then, the power they hold pales in comparison to that of the Matron Mothers, the leaders of the drow houses. Daughters grow up plotting to overthrow their mothers and out-live their sisters. Sons are encouraged to fight and though they have rivalry, it's not always as deadly as that of their sisters. My family was like any other. I have two older sisters, one younger, and two older brothers, the third of which having been sacrificed to Lolth after he was born, as is customary. You look pale. Are you ill?"

"Do I really need to know about the sacrifices?" she asked, feeling her skin go cold and clammy as another ripple of nausea passed through her.

"I was merely trying to give you an impression of the upbringing I had. I'll try to skip the worst of it from now on. As I said, I was no different to any drow. I relished the beatings I gave to the slaves on behalf of the Matrons, and suffered whenever I was the recipient of those beatings. But I never, ever questioned it. This was simply the way life was, and had always been. Then, something changed."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I woke up one morning and felt a dull ache in my stomach. At first I thought I'd been poisoned, but the pain disappeared after a while. It returned, however, whenever I committed an act of violence. At the same time, I started experiencing... unpleasant visions, during my reverie. All elves, even my kin, enter a trance instead of a true sleep, in which we relive our memories. I relived mine, but they were twisted. I saw the faces of my victims screaming in pain. They chased me wherever I fled, and wailed so loudly that I could no longer reach true trance. At first I thought the visions and memories were being sent to me by the Spider Queen. I thought she was punishing me for something, or testing me. One day, I did something I had never done before in my life. I asked 'why'.

"That night, I didn't have the visions of horror. Instead, a new vision came to me. A vision of a dark maiden wreathed in silver moonlight. She spoke to no words that I could hear, but I knew immediately who she was. Eilistraee, the outcast goddess of the drow. She reached into my mind and filled it with the moonlight, and her presence warmed and comforted me. Over the next few weeks and months, I came to learn from her that my pain and the bad visions weren't sent by a god, but were conjured from within myself. My body and my mind, without me being aware of it, were rebelling against the things I had done. In time, the feelings grew stronger. I had no word for the pain, at the time, but Eilistraee taught one to me; sympathy. What I was feeling was sympathy for my victims. But I still didn't know why. I thought maybe I had gone wrong somewhere, or had been born wrong. In our society, love and sympathy are non-existent. Offspring who show such traits are killed or turned into driders."

"Driders?"

"They are drow, mutilated and transformed, given the bodies of spiders and used to hunt-"

"Forget I asked. I don't know to know. But you still haven't told me where I come into all of this."

"I was getting to that part. As I said, I didn't know why this was happening to me. I asked Eilistraee to help me understand. She sent me to a woman, a former Matron Mother whose house had been all but wiped out by a rival. This woman had once venerated Lolth, but since the downfall of her house, had secretly changed her allegiance to Eilistraee. Her rival had allowed her to live to serve as a living warning to her other enemies, that she would not be crossed. But she hadn't known that the woman no longer worshipped Lolth, and the woman slowly began to help me understand why I felt as I did. She told me that long ago, when the elves and their gods cast us down to the Underdark, they made a mistake. They cast down all dark elves regardless of whether they were under the influence of Lolth and her infernal allies. Over time, the woman told me, dormant tendencies were arising within the drow whose blood had not been contaminated with demon's blood. These tendencies were quick to manifest, always appearing in childhood, but such children, as I already mentioned, were usually done away with because of their... weakness. A few lucky ones, like me, manage to avoid detection through duplicity, but it's too dangerous for us to live together, or to even socialise together. We must live apart and alone, pretending to be something we are not, for our own protection."

Esme nodded. She knew exactly how he felt. Even now, she was living a lie, though it was an unspoken one. She could never tell Shayla and the others what she was. She could never let the world know that she was a child of Bhaal, or they would do to her what they had done to Kalan'Tel. They would put her in a cage and let her die for what she was.

"The day before I left my home for the surface, the woman was captured. I knew that somebody had discovered what she was, and that she would only be able to with-stand torture for so long. I knew I had to leave, but I also knew that I would be safe nowhere in the Underdark, unless I wished to live as an outcast. So, armed with the knowledge of an impending raid, I came to the surface, hoping to do some good. You know what happened next. I was careless, and was captured. In my cage, I was ready to die. But as I tried to embrace death, I felt Eilistraee blocking my way. She would not allow my spirit to leave my body. She simply told me to be patient, that she would help me. I didn't believe her. I thought I was beyond help. Then I felt a presence watching me. It was warm, and comforting. Believing that the goddess herself had manifested, I opened my eyes, but instead of Eilistraee, I saw you. And in your eyes I saw the same compassion that I felt from her. It was only after you freed me, as I set out on the path you showed me, that I realised she had sent you to me. That's when I turned back and waited for you to leave. I followed you because I need to know why you saved me. I need to know what makes you special and different to the other surfacers who wouldn't even hear my story, much less believe it. I want to know why the goddess chose you to heal my wounds and set me free. And I need your knowledge of the surface world, if I am to survive here. So you see, my reasons for saving you from the river are not as honourable as you may have first thought. It's knowledge that I seek from you, so that my curiosity is sated."

"I don't know what to say," she said at last. "I'm not special, not at all. Don't get me wrong, I think everybody is unique, but I'm just me."

"You're the first surfacer who's spoken to me as an equal, and not as if I'm some sort of vermin to be exterminated. You're the only one who brought me food and water when I was inside the cage. You're the one who freed me."

"Technically, Kiree picked your lock."

"But I'm sure you had to convince her. I don't need to thank you. I've already done that by saving your life, as you saved mine. But I need to know why."

"I was raised to believe that suffering is unnecessary. That when something is in pain, it should be put out of its pain one way or the other."

"But I asked you to help me end my pain, and you refused."

"Because I believed you were innocent of the crime you were accused of. I don't know what else to tell you. I was taught to have compassion for others. And I don't have any prior experience of drow, to taint my opinions. These factors were all fortunate for you, but Eilistraee didn't send me, and she didn't chose me to heal you."

"She did. I felt her energy as you took away my pain. I felt her warmth flowing through you, and in to me."

"I need to sleep," she said, lying back down on the hard earth. Simply talking was taking up too much of her strength, and she was far too tired to argue with him now. "If I can sleep, I might be able to heal myself afterwards when I wake. Then I can find my friends." The drow said nothing as she closed her eyes, and before long the soothing play of the firelight had sent her off into a deep sleep.

o - o - o - o - o

When she awoke, her first sight was of light flashing across something metallic. She opened her eyes fully and peered through the flames, and saw Kalan'Tel drawing and sheathing the sword that Haluar had given to her, watching the way the firelight played across the blade. Trying to ignore the haziness of her still-waking mind, she sat up and held out her hand.

"Give that to me," she said, more harshly than she thought herself capable of. Kalan'Tel paused only to re-sheath the weapon before handing it to her.

"I wasn't going to use it against you," he said as she snatched the sword to her chest. She shrugged. She didn't know how to say, exactly, that even if he had no intention of using it against her, she still didn't want him, or anybody else, touching the sword. Haluar had given it to her, and for some reason, she felt extremely possessive of it. Strange, because she'd never been possessive of anything in her life. "It's a fine blade," he continued. "Where did you get it from?"

"A friend gave it to me."

"I cleaned it for you. It got wet in the river, and eventually it would have rusted."

"Thank you," she said, suddenly guilty over her abruptness. After all, it wasn't his fault that she'd been knocked into the river. He'd had the decency to save her life and bandage her injuries. Of course he'd had to go through her pack to do it, and he was bound to have seen the sword sooner or later. She looked up to find him simply watching her, his red pupils unblinking as the firelight made dark shadows dance across his ebony skin, and she shifted on the hard floor, trying to make herself more comfortable. "What did you do, in the Underdark?" she asked. "Were you a warrior?"

"Yes."

"One of the favoured warriors you mentioned?"

"No, thankfully," he said with a snort.

"Why 'thankfully'? Didn't you say favoured drow have power?"

"Yes, but power is a double-edged knife. Those who have it don't want to lose it, and those who want it will try to take it from those that have it. It is an honour to be the favoured of a Matron Mother, but it is a deadly honour, one that can be revoked at great cost for the slightest infraction. Losing a fight, bringing dishonour to a house, failing to observe proper etiquette... these are all things that can cost a favoured warrior his life. The only fate worse than a favoured warrior is a favoured consort."

"Favoured consort?"

"As I said, drow who want power will do almost anything to seize it. One way is by tying themselves to more powerful houses. Matron Mothers and their daughters will often chose a new consort to father their children, or simply to replace one who has out-lived his usefulness. Usually, such males enjoy a brief experience of power and wealth before being cast back down when they fall out of favour. Sometimes, they're simply executed for some slight or other. Thankfully, it's usually the males who are considered the most handsome or have the greatest prowess in battle who are chosen for such means."

"Have you ever had the pleasure of being a consort?"

"Only once. An elder daughter of a small house saw me and desired me. One of her younger sisters knew of it and wanted to spite her, so she came to me first."

"Why didn't you just say no to both of them?"

"To refuse a priestess, even one of low power and status, is instant death," he shrugged. "I was lucky. The elder daughter discovered us together, the two sisters fought and killed each other. I fled and returned to my own house before I could be discovered. Fortunately, there are many males considered worthier than I for the role of consort."

"It doesn't sound like a good life for raising children," she said, thinking of her own childhood upheavals. "On the surface, mothers and fathers raise their children together. At least, in human society. Parents cherish their children, usually, and go to great pains to keep them safe from harm."

"In the Underdark, such actions would be considered weak and foolish. What are your parents like?"

"I don't know, they died when I was very young. I don't remember them. The man who raised me was a priest of Lathander. He was the one who instilled my values in me."

"I need to change your bandage," he said suddenly. "Yours is soaked."

"Will you pass me the mirror in my pack?"

"It's broken."

"Then pass me one of the broken pieces."

"Why? What good will it do you?"

"I want to see how bad my injury is."

"Bad enough, but I don't think you'll die."

"Give me a piece of my mirror. Please."

He sighed, and walked towards a pile of broken glass she hadn't noticed before. Looking at it, she recognised fragments of different colours, from various bottles she used for her potions, as well as pieces of her broken mirror. He passed her the largest, and she looked into it, taking in the sight of the blood-soaked bandage. Slowly, she unfastened it and began to unwind it, and realised her mistake as blood began to pour from the deep, jagged gash on her head.

"Can you heal yourself yet?" he asked. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'll find a clean bandage," he said, and rooted through her pack. When he found one, she made him tie it tighter than the last one had been, because it was obvious he had little or no experience of treating injuries. When he tried to make her lie down to rest, she insisted on sitting up, and explained that lying down would simply cause the blood to flow out faster. She needed to remain sitting up-right so that her heart would find it more difficult to pump the blood up to the wound. She also told him what to do in case she went into shock. After he'd given her a generous helping of water from her canteen, he retreated to the other side of the fire, and put more wood on it.

"How long has it been since you saved me from the river?" she asked.

"Almost a day."

"A day! My friends should be here soon, then. I must have been washed some way down-river, but it won't take them too much longer to find me. How far away from the river are we?"

"An hour's journey or so," he said, feigning concentration on the fire that didn't need any more poking.

"On which bank?" she asked, cold suspicion winding its way through her mind.

"The far bank. The one you were trying to reach."

"Then they should have found me by now. Why haven't they found me?"

"I covered our tracks as I brought you here," he admitted.

"What? Why?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you, and I knew that your friends would never give me that chance. I had to get you alone."

"Am I your prisoner, then?"

For a moment, he didn't reply. He simply watched her, with the flames of the fire dancing in his red eyes. She recalled likening Haluar and Tirisar to wolves; if that was the case, then Kalan'Tel was something much worse. The things he'd done in the past... she doubted that even Tirisar would do those things. To kill humans was one thing, but to torture for fun, or at the command of another? How could any creature that claimed ownership of a soul do such a thing?

"For the moment, yes," he said at last.

"And what do you think your goddess will think about that?"

"I won't hurt you, Esmerelle. I will trust you not to run, so I won't tie you or restrict your movement in any way. But I must have your knowledge. I must know how the surface world works. Eilistraee sent you to me. She will not mind. Afterwards, I'll help you to find your friends. You have my word."

"Why are you so desperate to understand how the surface world works?"

"Because I can never go home," he said bluntly. "And even if I could... I'm not sure that I want to."

"You'd prefer to live as an outcast on the surface than in the Underdark?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"On the surface, I may be killed for what I am. In the Underdark, I will be killed for what I am not. If I must die, then at least here I can die beneath the stars and the sky. I'd never seen a sky, until I went on my first raid."

She watched his face as he stared at the flames of the fire, and knew that he was remembering. She was experiencing mixed feelings about him; on the one hand, she wanted to help him, but on the other, he was technically holding her prisoner. If she didn't tell him what he wanted to know, how far would his promise hold? For how long would he keep her there? If she had to fight her way to freedom... unless she regained her control of magic both divine and arcane, she wouldn't stand a chance against him. For now, she was stuck. She couldn't risk trying to run away, because then he probably would bind her, and if he did that, she'd struggle to use magic. Perhaps when she was better recovered, she could use a spell of sanctuary to leave without interruption. In the mean time, she would have to keep him talking. She would have to appear sympathetic to his cause.

"Tell me about it," she said. "Your first raid."

"Why?"

"It's obviously an important memory for you. Besides, if you want me to share my knowledge of the surface, then you need to tell me more about yourself. It's how things work, on the surface. We share."

"Very well, if that is how it must be. It was many years ago now..."

"Just how old are you?"

"Young enough that most of my people would consider me little more than a child." She nodded. He reminded her a little of the wild-elf twins, Valear and Kirsan, who were both amongst the youngest warriors of the Wolfsbane tribe. "The first surface raid of any young warrior is considered an initiation, and the other four in my raiding party were seasoned veterans. I wasn't given a say about when and where the raid would take place, and to this day, I still don't know the name of the village we hit. But back then, I didn't care. I was just proud to be given the opportunity, to be given the chance to prove myself." As he spoke, the flames of the fire reflected in his black pupils, dancing like tiny figures. "We'd been instructed to bring back slaves, so we went first to a farmstead. It was winter. The air was cold upon my skin, colder than anything I'd ever experienced before. I could feel every link of my chain armour where it touched me, and I wondered how anybody could live in that temperature. I'd been told that humans were weak, and it was a surprise to me that they would choose to endure the cold instead of moving their farm elsewhere. Then I saw the moon, colouring everything it touched with its cold, beautiful light. Long blades of frost-touched grass looked like hundred of tiny knives to me, and I thought it unfair that my people miss out on seeing such sights.

"I remember hearing a noise like rothe, and I saw a barn with what you call 'cows' in it. But they were useless to me, so I ignored them as they ignored me, and I followed the rest of the warriors to the home of the farmer. There I was told of the plan. I was to enter the house and scare the humans, to make them run outside where the rest of my party would be waiting to snap them up. It was easy. The humans were complacent. One of the ground floor windows wasn't locked, so I stole inside. They had a dog in the house, and when it saw me, it barked, so I slit its throat. Then I made my way upstairs, but by then the family was alert to my presence. The farmer came at me with a simple farming weapon, and fought me whilst shouting at his family to flee. Of course, I let him think he was winning, and gave his wife time to chivvy their three young sons outside where my kin were waiting. When I judged the time right, I easily overcame him, running him through the heart with my sword."

As he spoke, Esme felt her mouth go dry. He was doing such an accurate job of describing the events, that in her mind she could see everything playing out, and it horrified her. But he wasn't finished.

"As I was preparing to leave, to rejoin my party with the slaves they'd captured, I heard something from another room in the house. A hushed whimpering. Somebody had been left behind, I realised. I followed the sound and came to a bedroom, and pushing the door open I found a young woman. She couldn't have been any older than you are now, and it was the first time I'd ever stopped to truly examine a human. Don't get me wrong, I'd seen many of them before, slaves in the Underdark, but by the time they're there they're broken and bedraggled and their spirits have been crushed. I'd never seen a free human before. She had long, clean blonde hair, and eyes the colour of warm oak bark. Her skin was pale and flawless, almost white in the cold moonlight. Here eyes were red from crying the tears which spilled down her cheeks, and I could tell by the way she clasped the blanket protectively around her that she was terrified." She saw his hands clench involuntarily, and he jumped up from the fire. "I have to go and check on something," he said, whirling out of the cave.

Esme let out the breath she had been holding. She knew that there was nothing for Kalan'Tel to check. He'd left because he was afraid to face her, to face the truths within himself. He was, she realised, a broken man. Everything that he'd known had been turned upside down, and it was quite possible that he hadn't realised, before now, how hard it would be to change, to live as something that his entire society had told him he shouldn't be. How in Lathander's name was she supposed to help him? She didn't have any experience of these sorts of situations! Then again, possibly nobody else did either. How often was it that a drow decided he didn't want to be a drow anymore?

Was this Lathander's doing? She was convinced her god had wanted her to help Kalan'Tel escape in the first place. Did He also want her to help him? And really, who better to help a drow to find himself than a follower of the Lord of the Morning? Didn't He teach about forgiveness and rebirth, after all? Well, she didn't know why Lathander wanted her to help Kalan'Tel, but if it was what He wanted, then she would do it, even if Shayla and Lucas and the others wouldn't approve.

When the drow returned, he was still agitated, pacing the floor of the cave like a caged beast. For the moment he seemed to have forgotten her presence as he struggled with his own thoughts and emotions. As a sensitive person, she could almost feel his distress as if it was her own, and she knew that unless she calmed him down, she'd get no more out of him than he'd already given.

"Kalan'Tel," she said, "we're all capable of doing terrible things. That's why we have jails. If we humans were perfect, without sin or flaw, then we would have no need for them."

"You don't understand," he said, slumping down in front of the fire and giving her a wretched look. "It's not just my actions that sicken me. It's my feelings about them."

"Tell me what happened," she coaxed gently. "I can't promise that I won't judge you, but if I'm to help you, as you believe Eilistraee wants me to, then I have to know about you."

"And if you decide that I'm no longer worthy of your help?"

"Do you sincerely want to change?"

"Yes."

"Then you are worthy."

"Do you recall what I said, about how drow men rarely find power unless they are strong warriors or powerful wizards?"

"I do."

"When I saw that young woman, terrified of me... that was the first time I experienced a feeling of power. Nobody had ever been frightened of me before, and it was like a drug." He stared at the flames, unable or unwilling to meet her gaze, and seemed to grow smaller and smaller as he sat there. "Suddenly, I didn't just want her to be afraid of me, I wanted her to fear me more than anything she would ever fear in her life. I decided to take her right there and then. She tried to fight me, of course, and that only increased my own enjoyment. It was something I could never have done to a drow woman, because it would have meant instant death. But up here, on the surface, I was free from such restraints. There was no drow matron to hold me back and punish me afterwards, and none of the warriors with me would have told me it was wrong, because in their minds, it was simply a right. And the worst part was, it wasn't the woman who excited me, but the feeling of strength and power that came with knowing I could do whatever I wanted. I liked that feeling."

When he looked up, she saw something in his eyes that she didn't like; a beast lurking in the red depths, cheered on by the flames that danced in his pupils, and she suddenly realised why Shayla had been so vehement in her denouncement of the drow. She felt her grip instinctively tighten on the elven sword in her hands. 'Vyshaan,' she whispered under her breath. Kalan'Tel glared at her in defiance.

"Your insult is accurate," he said, and allowed his face to soften. "That is what I was. It took me a long time to feel regret over what I did on my first raid, and even longer to remember the beauty of the sky above me that evening. Do you see why I need your help?"

"What happened to her? The woman?" she asked, not really wanting to know.

"I don't know. I left her in the bedroom where I found her. For some reason, it seemed important that she not become a slave. When I left, I told the rest of the raiding party with me that there was nobody left alive in the house. We took the mother and three sons back to the Underdark as slaves. I can see in your eyes the horror and disgust you feel about the things I have done. For me, it is ten times worse, because I must relive these things every time I reverie, and I must live with my own shame and regret. You may think that I deserve my fate, and believe me, if I thought my death would make things right, I would gladly return to Red Larch and turn myself over. But my death wouldn't undo the damage I have done, so perhaps, by living, I can do some good in the world. Knowing now what you know about me, will you still help me?"

"I need to think about it," she said. "I could use some fresh food. Why don't you go and find us an animal or something, or bring back some fruits? It's summer, after all, there's bound to be something nearby to eat."

She watched as Kalan'Tel left in silence, and felt more conflicted about him than anything she'd felt before. One the one hand, he seemed genuine enough about wanting to change. But he'd done so many terrible things... was he too far gone to absolve himself? She wished Aggie or Eldon were there to advise her. Right now, she could use a little unbiased wisdom.

She didn't intend to fall asleep, but she'd lost so much blood, and she was so exhausted by events of the past day and night, that she couldn't help herself. Closing her eyes, and clutching the elven sword to her chest, she drifted off to sleep.

o - o - o - o - o

A/N - Sorry it took so long for an update. "Real life" and stuff.