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Chapter 35: The Beast Within
The pain was sudden and overwhelming. The power of Irenicus's spell ripped through her – and for a moment, as it seeped from her and the light receded, engulfing the wizard and his sister, it left Elatharia shuddering and empty. She stared blankly, nerves jangling with such awful, remembered pain, and then she caught a glimpse of pink by her side. Starting at the sudden movement, she turned to see her sister swaying, her eyes ablaze with golden light a moment before she slumped to the ground. Elatharia did not have time to consider this phenomenon, nor the gleeful laughter of Bodhi as the brilliant spell seeped through the vampire and her brother, doing its work far more gently.
The golden light rose up from the back of Elatharia's mind, a tide swelling behind her eyes and filling her with a sudden, nervous energy – until it washed into her sight completely.
She left the present, and drifted in the golden ocean. It reminded her of all that had passed, of the injustices done to her by the mage Irenicus and his sister Bodhi. Of her father Gorion and familiar Ingaith – and of her spell, tearing their murderer, Sarevok, apart. It whispered of power, potential…and rage. At first the Transmuter trembled in the face of such might, but the longer she drifted, the more it warmed her. Through the golden light she caught glimpses of an island adrift in blackness, a curved globe of black and silver stone pierced by a needle of pure white-hot power. Before her eyes it unfurled like an opening flower, and in a stomach-churning rush it sucked her within before closing around her, plunging her into darkness.
Elatharia felt no pressure as she landed upon the hard ground, and the lack of sensation – no smells, no temperature, no texture – all reminded her that this was a dream. She could hear the rushing of the golden ocean outside, but for now she drifted in the darkness of this stone globe, and memories flickered before her.
She caught a glimpse of a woman with long red hair, a mass of well-ordered curls tumbling down to her waist, the glitter of green eyes and a smile too tight and crooked to be kind. Six black lines, each with a pair of tributaries, fanned across freckled cheeks; a golden flame flickered within her pupils, and she wore a crown of feathers. Seven feathers.
Elatharia recalled a hall of bones, a black chandelier formed of interlocking knives. The woman placed her upon an altar, cold and hard, and raised a knife above her heart. Mama, Elatharia had said, afraid but far too young to understand, and for just a second the woman faltered. Long enough for a mighty crash to interrupt them, sending the black-robed watchers scattering. The red-haired woman snarled, tearing the headdress off and scooping her up with one arm. Knives flashed, blood flew, screams rang out.
A great battle ensued, and when the fighting was over only the toddler Elatharia and a baby with a tuft of pink hair remained of the congregation. Imoen. A tall woman attempted to comfort them, scooping each up in one arm. She could have been the kindly sister of the first, her face similar in shape, also freckled but without the dark lines, her hair shorter and a few shades paler, her eyes large and blue and very gentle.
The murderous congregation had been overrun by men and women who dressed in silver, grey and brown, and who wore identical harp pins above their hearts. At their head stood Gorion, and though he must have surely been panting and covered in blood Elatharia did not remember it that way. She remembered the woman passing her into his strong, warm arms, and the memory of it rang with a sense of safety, and not of fear. He had smiled down at her, bouncing her on his hip, and she had burst into tears, and would not stop crying until the red haired woman who reminded her of the first was gone and they had left the vault of bones far behind them.
"You were not alone then," a quiet voice breathed, "And you are not alone now."
The darkness receded in a blink, illuminating a circular chamber of smooth plain stone. Imoen was just pulling herself up to her feet beside the Transmuter, looking around with eyes once more of silver blue. She frowned when she saw Elatharia, as if distrusting her senses, but when her expression cleared they rushed into each other's arms, an embrace born of fear and confusion – and relief.
"Where are we?" Imoen asked as they parted just as swiftly. It never was a good idea to become distracted in an unknown place. Her eyes were wide, and bright with something terrible and nameless. "Am I dreaming?"
"I think we both are," Elatharia nodded, "I think we're sharing it. This must be Bhaal's…"
"Bhaal's realm," the quiet voice agreed, and the sisters turned around to face the speaker as it materialised from a swell of light. Both recoiled to see a huge figure aglow with blue-white radiance draped in a grey robe that did nothing to help determine its gender, its colour almost washed out by the glow pouring from the creature's skin. The eyes that met Elatharia's were brilliant blue, azure like the sky above Faerûn, and the wings that unfolded with a rush of air behind it were speckled with the same colour.
"Who…who are you?" both sisters asked, and the solar inclined its head.
"I am a projection. Half recollection, half prophecy of things to come. This place is a manifestation of your father's power, now long dormant, and I am its keeper. All that you see is but a copy of the truth – for as you did say, all that you see is but a dream. You may pass through here corporeally one day, if you find your strength."
"Then why are we seeing this now?" Elatharia demanded. She was overcome with the sudden urge to push her sister behind her, dream or no dream.
"Great sacrilege has been committed," the solar explained, "Your mortal souls have been torn from your bodies and passed on to those who have as much need of them but no right. They sought your father's power. You must see to it that they do not find it."
"How can we stop them? They've already done it!" Imoen exclaimed, and it hurt Elatharia to hear her so utterly without hope.
"Look to the power of your father. Embrace it. Know that you are both children of Bhaal, lord of murder, and that nothing less than death may await Joneleth the 'Irenicus' and Bodhi now. Together, you may give it to them."
Bhaal's golden light filled Elatharia's eyes, and Imoen's yelp beside her suggested that her sister experienced the same. When their vision cleared, the solar was gone and in his place stood a twisted version of Sarevok – that was his armour at least…but through it protruded blood red spines. His eyes blazed gold and red, his face half scaled and half human beneath the gaping maw of his spiked helm. A long, spiny tail lashed behind him, and he held a huge greatsword, glimmering with blood and ready to swing their way.
Both sisters shrieked and made to run, full of the fear special to nightmares, each pulling the other in an opposite direction such that the first swing of the sword almost caught them. The Sarevok-devil laughed a thunderous bass laugh, his sword scattering sparks across the brown stone of the ground.
"We have to…fight it," Imoen gasped as she twisted about, away from the momentarily lodged sword, tugging at her sister's side. "The solar said…it said to fight together." She shook Elatharia when the Transmuter failed to answer, her thoughts filled with scratching knives and blinding panic. "Elatharia! It's just a dream! If we can't defeat a dream…if you won't help me…"
The words cut through her fear, and rage poured into its place. Elatharia tore her stare from the monster just as it pulled its sword free and lumbered their way, slower than Sarevok had been, much slower than the barbed devil had been. Imoen was pale and gaunt, her blue eyes shining with fear – but she was determined. And right.
"I'll help you," Elatharia agreed, setting her feet and turning back to the monster as she gripped her sister's hand, "And you'll help me."
Her smile was manic as she met the eyes of the monster and permitted the power of her father to engulf her in a flood.
"At last!"
As the power of the spell receded, bringing the hall back into view once more, Bodhi could feel the difference even before her first habitual (if unnecessary) in-breath. Had the world always been so colourful? There must have been a hundred shades of blue and grey alone in this hall, which had seemed so dull to her soulless eyes before. It was still rather drab, of course, just a pile of human-hewn stones arranged into a cold and rather unmemorable prison.
The vampire stumbled as the spell's hold on her body fully receded also, the pipes above her and her far more composed brother rattling as the magical energy left them. A glance Joneleth's way showed that he was blinking down at his scarred hands, turning them palms up, then down. The long sigh that escaped him rattled with the surge of emotion that coursed through him, an alien feeling after so long. Watching him, Bodhi grinned even more widely – sympathy had never been her strong point, but empathy was something she could just about manage in this case. She certainly knew how he was feeling.
"It worked," her brother murmured at last, his brow furrowing a moment before he turned his icy pale eyes Bodhi's way. "And you are glad."
"Of course, brother!" the vampire crowed, fairly skipping towards him in the giddiness of her excitement and relief. His forearms were warm and ridged with scars as she gripped them, shaking him a little. "We are cured! We are saved!"
He seemed put out by her glee, if anything, pulling back sharply from her grip and eyeing her warily before his gaze slid past her, to the two forms slumped beneath the pipes opposite those which had fed to him and Bodhi such glorious power. Sighing again, the man who had been named 'Irenicus' by his own people set his expression, that ruined mask of a face hardly suited to smiles of the kind currently ruling Bodhi's own visage.
As she looked upon the two slumped girls, taking in the smell of their surging, hot blood, the vampire's eyes widened. Hunger such as she had not known almost overcame her, Joneleth bringing out an arm to stop her sudden advance of the unconscious pair. Such smooth, living skin! So young and fresh and alive! Though they were still as if in sleep, their eyes darted beneath closed lids, their chests rising and falling with breath. She could hear the endless thumping of their beating hearts. She longed to rip open their arteries and drink the life from them.
"I have not seen such colour since I left Ellesime's garden," Irenicus said softly, his eyes fixed upon the fallen form of Imoen, advancing on the unconscious girl as if in a trance.
It was true – the soulless hell in which they had lived had deprived them of the true range of the visible spectrum. Imoen's hair – soft, sweet pink – was arrayed in a fan around her head. A brilliant bruise was blooming on her temple. Beside the aasimar, Elatharia was tantalisingly spattered with some significant amount of blood; it had dried in her hair, upon her cheek and her neck, down the front of her plain grey tunic. It was not hers though, not all of it. The fresh blood decorating her ankles and wrists – that was hers. It smelled glorious. Perhaps this was the reason no vampire was meant to have a soul; with such heightened senses, combined with a mortal capacity for perception and enjoyment, how was Bodhi supposed to avoid draining every living thing she saw?
"I take it we may kill them now? We have their souls, and our freedom," Bodhi pointed out, "And I imagine you have a further 'plan' to set in motion, dull brother mine?"
Irenicus's eyes flashed with momentary anger at her mocking tone. She took half a step back, remembering his methods of old and how he had once dealt with those who bored or irritated him. But the moment passed, and he shook his head to her great consternation, kneeling slowly and touching a fingertip to Imoen's bruised scalp. She shifted and murmured something, but for the time being did not wake.
"Then what do you propose, brother?" Bodhi demanded, folding her arms and struggling to contain the writhing force of annoyance and disappointment that surged within her. It had been a long time since she had experienced such nuanced emotions. "If we leave them here they will starve to death before they can find their way out. And surely you do not intend for them to live? Give them to me and they will die quicker – perhaps more uncomfortably, but quicker. And at least I will not starve."
"Enough!" Irenicus snapped, waving her words away, "It is highly unwise to perform a spell of this type and kill the owners of our current souls so readily. We must wait a little while, to see if the transition is complete. I doubt we will find any more children of Bhaal whom we may subdue, so caution is well warranted."
Well, that was true enough. The high priestess who had pointed them to Elatharia and Imoen had hinted that few remained of Bhaal's children – and that those who did were mighty powers in their own right.
"At least let me have a little fun then, brother," Bodhi hinted slyly, attempting to keep the disgust out of her tone as she watched him caress the aasimar girl's hair before standing to face her with a decidedly bored look. "There are dungeons beneath this one. Let me drop them into the maze below…until the time is right and I can kill them, or someone else can."
Irenicus watched her coolly for a moment, glancing down at Elatharia as the girl stirred a little, groaning as if in pain. As she turned over, the floor beneath her head was stained dark and for a moment Bodhi wondered if the girl had another injury. But no, that did not smell of blood. How peculiar. It looked like ink.
"Very well," her brother allowed after a moment, flinching irritably when Bodhi laughed in delight, leaping up and clapping her hands excitedly. "You may have your fun." He looked down at Imoen, his head tilting thoughtfully. "They will have to die eventually, I imagine. Whether we leave them or not. And do not take too long about it – a few more hours and we will know whether this spell has truly worked. Then we must move on. The matron is waiting, and so is my vengeance."
The darkness was comfortingly deep on their journey to Spellhold, though the wind was bitterly cold and relentless. Viconia kept to the front of the party with Haer'Dalis, seeking to keep their interfering conjured lights behind her. Haer'Dalis did not seem to scorn the light as she did in spite of his equally good nightvision, but on this journey through the dunes and low hills of Brynnlaw he kept by her side. His closeness set her nerves jangling, her skin prickling. His distance made her just as irritable. And his watchfulness kept her on edge in a different way – a good thing, with so many potential enemies at their backs and so many in front. Not to mention the loss of Elatharia.
The drow priestess suspected the wizards of the group had been hasty – and arrogant, unsurprisingly – when they had promised that their memorised spells would be sufficient for this venture. Perhaps Aerie, weak creature that she was, did not favour spells of great potency or aggression (and the evidence certainly favoured this theory) but Edwin was a different matter. He may have been an impulsive and oft times foolish wizard, but he was also a paranoid one. He might start a fight with an impossible foe, but he would only do it if he had all of his very best spells memorised. Viconia knew him better than he realised, or even than many of the others realised. She had travelled with him for as long as had either Elatharia or Jaheira. She was not clouded by emotion in regard to him. And she knew that it would take a great deal to make Edwin forego his best spells and any tactical considerations against a foe as worrying as Irenicus.
Sentiment. Viconia glanced at Haer'Dalis with a grimace. It was probably going to get them all killed one day.
Viconia sighed as they finally reached the last of the stairways cut into the hills, slippery with sand, and saw the flat road ahead cut through the rock. It narrowed into a bridge about a hundred feet away, barely better than a causeway, its low walls smoothed off by countless years of crashing waves and buffeting wind. Its grey stones were slick with sea spray, and the world smelled of brine. Beyond that loomed the dark mass of Spellhold, a series of towers arrayed around a lower, broader building – which still stood many floors high. Its huge front gates were flanked by two massive statues of robed men, arms folded beneath voluminous sleeves – much like the figures that flanked the Cowled Wizard headquarters in Athkatla.
A glance over her shoulder showed to Viconia that the others were only a few feet behind them, and a quick consideration of the low, watery bridge ahead led to her hesitating, eyeing the darkness intently behind the rowdier main group and their orange conjured light. They passed her, a few sending her suspicious glances, but only Edwin and Haer'Dalis paused to look back at her as she turned around and made to follow in their wake. While the bard peered at her curiously, the Red Wizard watched her with a deep frown, his brown eyes flashing with points of red that proved today he had favoured darkvision over a light as ostentatious as Jan's.
"What is it that has you lingering, drow?" Edwin demanded.
"If you think I am any less inclined to recover Elatharia, you are mistaken," Viconia sighed as she reached the gap between bard and Conjurer, gesturing at the trudging group ahead of them in a suggestion that they follow. "She has saved me many times, and it makes sense to return the favour – I am hardly willing to linger alone on this island. I would suggest instead that your own paranoia is borne of fear." She smirked when his lips twitched irritably. "And perhaps a wish to seek out that which led to your earlier temporary loss of magic, hm?"
"I told you before that they poisoned me as they did Elatharia," Edwin insisted, his fearsome glare too intense to be broken by Viconia's knowing smile. She rolled her eyes Haer'Dalis's way as the Red Wizard turned his back on her and went after the others.
"And why did you linger behind, my Blackbird?" the tiefling inquired softly as they followed a few steps back. His elbow brushed hers, and she flinched away automatically. She felt his eyes on her, but if her response bothered him he failed to show it beyond this long look.
"I would rather the bridge were tested by others first. If someone is going to slip into the sea, I would rather it were not me."
Haer'Dalis laughed at that.
"There is something untrustworthy about this place; island, town, sea and prison all," he agreed softly, eyeing the approaching hulk of Spellhold with far less mirth.
"Almost as unpredictable as the group into which we are forced," Viconia agreed, "I wish very much that we could have killed most of them before we came here, for surely they will turn on us one day."
Haer'Dalis nudged her, much to her irritation. He raised an eyebrow when she looked up at him, a string of drow insults coming to her lips.
"It is always better to watch the chaos unfold in such situations, to permit it life, rather than to halt it – or create it before its time. I am sure far too much danger awaits within the walls of Spellhold yet, my Blackbird. We will need our unlikely allies."
It was a reminder rather than a lesson, but Viconia sighed and gave a half-nod all the same. Perhaps Edwin was right. The more fireball fodder they had, the better.
As it turned out, the bridge was slippery but not impassable. Minsc barrelled forth first, his steps swift and fearless…and nimble, to the surprise of a few onlookers. Korgan went with him, far less graceful but just as daring, head down and footsteps heavy. Yoshimo flitted after them, dodging the spray of one particularly ferocious wave. All three reached the closed gates, dwarfed by the flanking statues of robed wizards, and waved the others over.
"Oh…" Aerie gasped nervously, her voice trailing off before she could find any complete words. She was shivering in the cold wind, wincing against the salty spray from the sea. Gaping a little, she blinked up into the darkness, probably only half-seeing the monstrous hulk of Spellhold. To Viconia's temperature-sensitive eyes the place was limned in a faint orange. It was too bright to be retained heat from the day – more likely, she was seeing the shine of some internal workings.
Valygar and Jaheira shared a long look of equal disbelief at the avariel's anxiety.
"We should hurry," the ranger grunted, stepping forward and gesturing pointedly ahead.
"And why does the druid linger behind? (To watch us fall to our deaths, no doubt)," Edwin muttered. Jaheira's eyebrow quirked slightly.
"As satisfying at that would be, Red Wizard, it is sadly inaccurate. I hold the wardstone. It would be unwise for me to go first, lest the rest of you be left behind," she told him coolly.
"My lady…" Anomen took Aerie's elbow and they shared a lingering look. A hint of steel found its way into the avariel's expression and she nodded firmly, extricating herself from the knight's hold – much to his apparent confusion. Was that a little hint of hurt Viconia saw in his face? She hoped so.
"Let's…let's go," Aerie said, matching Mazzy's smile.
Thus knight, paladin, ranger and part-time mage all went forth – and after a moment, Jan skipped after them. A twist of some little contraption in his hands, and a shimmering dome bloomed above the five of them, protecting them from the thunderous waves. Seeing this, Edwin hurried to catch up and almost lost his footing on the wet ground with a snarled Mulhorandi curse.
Jaheira turned to Viconia and Haer'Dalis pointedly when they laughed at the Red Wizard's theatrics. That cold glare soon dampened the drow's mirth and she turned to meet the druid's grey eyes with a sneer.
"I will not have you alone at my back, darthiir spawn," the priestess denied her. "We will keep by your side, and avoid a spear in the back."
"Only the guilty fear vengeance from a Harper, drow," Jaheira told her icily.
"Then perhaps you ought to turn your vengeance upon Irenicus…and Yoshimo, Ptarmigan," Haer'Dalis suggested, his tone harder than Viconia had heard it – aside from his interactions with the bounty hunter. She turned to look up into his face with surprise, and saw how serious he was.
"Yoshimo?" Jaheira's expression twisted into disbelief, "If you knew something, why did you say nothing?" When he failed to respond, she scoffed, "In the absence of evidence, it would seem your attempts at distraction have failed, tiefling. The bounty hunter did at least bring us the wardstone. You made no effort to stop him."
"He has not given me any outright evidence, tis true," Haer'Dalis agreed, "But watch him closely. Keep him in your sight. I have known those held in thrall before, and a thrall to someone the Cuckoo surely is."
They spoke no more, too tense to discuss such vagaries. Instead they passed the bridge – and though Jaheira staggered past a crashing wave, almost slipping once or twice, Viconia was served well by her drow heritage and upbringing. She had watched the course of the others who had crossed, satisfied in the walkway's safety, and needed little concentration to easily keep her footing and pass through almost untouched by the sea's spray. Haer'Dalis found the trip quite entertaining, laughing at Jaheira's few struggles and unbothered by the water his shirt took on. His feet never faltered though, his form a brighter hue to Viconia's darkvision in spite of the cold spray. She need not touch him to know that his tiefling blood ran hotter than those of the Prime Material. Still, he caught Viconia looking and sent her a crooked smile which she did at least pretend to scorn.
At last the group was united once more at the other side of the bridge, sheltered from the Sea of Swords by some lingering enchantment of the Cowled Wizards. As soon as they gathered in the space between the statue and the featureless, smooth iron doors the crash and rush of the sea dwindled along with the prickle of the spraying water droplets and even the smell of salt in the air. The rushing wind eased, as well. Viconia might have breathed a sigh of relief, had she not been in such company…and in the shadow of such a dangerous prison.
"Generally speaking tis wiser to break out of a prison than into one," Haer'Dalis noted cheerfully enough from behind the drow, as if reading her mind. She could feel his arm against hers, a strong reminder that the tiefling was the only member of their present group whom she would permit at her back.
The others eyed the tiefling with looks ranging from disbelief, to unassuaged anxiety, to derision. Jaheira strode amongst them, the wardstone in her hands. She eyed Yoshimo's placid visage for a moment longer than necessary, her frown almost as deep as Edwin's. The bounty hunter just smiled at her expectantly.
"I believe a passphrase must be spoken to activate the item," he explained, gesturing to Edwin, "Perhaps one of our wizards could help?"
"As much as it pains me to say it, I think we should all make some physical contact with the poor fool who must activate the wardstone – or with someone who manages to do so," Edwin sighed, stepping forward and plucking the wardstone promptly from Jaheira's grasp, eyeing it critically before nodding thoughtfully. He sent a derisive glance around himself, at the group in general, before meeting Viconia's eyes. "It would seem that poor fool is me," he admitted.
"Poor us fer havin' t' touch ye, more like," Korgan commented. Valygar failed to hide a faint grunt of amusement at that observation. "But I'll take some amusement in seein' ye suffer from the pawin' o' yer haters, wizard!"
After a moment of uncomfortable shifting, the group formed up around Edwin; Jaheira curled her lip but touched his sleeve, Mazzy and Jan each one of his elbows. Korgan grinned at the halfling, and she cringed away from the dwarf though he touched her wrist only lightly, instead of making contact with the Red Wizard. Valygar preferred to put a hand upon Jaheira's shoulder, squeezing almost imperceptibly as if in support. She glanced at him, and the grim expression they shared was as impenetrable as an unfamiliar language to Viconia. Aerie dithered a little before Mazzy found her hand with a forcefulness that spoke of sternness and something softer, like concern. Anomen gripped the avariel's other hand, frowning uncomfortably at Edwin. Minsc's expression was much the same as the knight's as he settled a hand protectively upon Aerie's shoulder.
Viconia jumped when Haer'Dalis grasped her hand, pulling them both forward lest their reluctance be noted, and putting a hand upon the wardstone, his fingers just barely touching Edwin's as he reached over Jan to achieve this.
Had she not been so distracted – by the moment, by Haer'Dalis's fingers holding hers so pointedly – Viconia might have smiled to see the group arrayed like this. It was an arrangement that spoke of alliances and necessities. She took a moment to consider it, and all that it told her of her companions' interrelations and characters.
Edwin spoke the command words with little preamble, grimacing at everyone settled around him. Instantly, the surge of powerful magic engulfed Viconia, bright light filling her vision, and she lost sight utterly of the others as the ground vanished from her feet. Haer'Dalis's hand slipped from hers; panicking with an immediacy that shocked her, she reach out blindly for him and felt their fingers tangle for just a moment before being wrenched apart again.
The magical energy of whatever this spell was rang in her ears like the aftermath of a gong rung by her head. It lingered as the weight of the world settled once more upon her and she felt flat ground beneath her feet. As the ringing eased and bright light faded, she found herself in darkness far deeper than that of the outdoors, engulfed in a silence more profound than the muffling spell by Spellhold's doors. It lasted only a moment before she adjusted to her surroundings, noticing immediately that the forms of Jaheira and Mazzy were stumbling into her view while all of the others were absent. They seemed dazed.
"Is anyone there?"
"Mazzy, is that you?"
"Yes! Jaheira…I don't hear any of the others…"
"Whatever the wardstone did, it separated us," the drow noted levelly, and the others stopped stumbling in this small, dark chamber at the sound of her voice. Of course, both were blind in this deep dark. "It has taken us somewhere at least. I see…three corridors we might take," she offered helpfully. In spite of the situation, she smirked at the power imbalance and how right it felt.
Jaheira cursed colourfully, pulling off her backpack and rooting around in it blindly for a moment or two. Mazzy stopped where she stood, palms out flat as she felt the still, faintly musty air. There was little to make out beyond this uninteresting box of a room, only one of its four walls unbroken by an opening. Rounded corridors curved away from the three available archways.
Mazzy flinched when Jaheira found a peculiar little strike a-light, slamming the contraption upon the flat, tiled floor with probably unnecessary vehemence and bringing forth an undoubtedly magical flame. The halfling blinked away sunspots as the strike a-light banished the darkness, flickering brilliantly in Jaheira's outstretched hand once the druid had shouldered her pack. Viconia had spat a few curses of her own as the awful light robbed her of her darkvision and blazed mercilessly into her sensitive drow eyes. Though she had been careful to avert her gaze, pain still shot through her head.
"Well," Mazzy managed at last, "I would just like to remind both of you that we need to work together to find the others."
"Assuming we are in fact in the same place, and not lost in some wizard's Maze spell," Viconia pointed out. The halfling frowned at her.
"Having suffered one of those, I can say quite certainly that we need not fear that possibility at least," Mazzy offered unexpectedly. The halfling shifted her glare to Jaheira, too. "Likely we are in Spellhold. Am I going to have problems with either of you?" The paladin's eyes blazed with the unspoken righteous command behind that question.
Viconia's lip curled to be treated like a foot soldier, but at least this insistent leader was female. Had a male spoken to her in such a fashion, they likely would have met a swing of the Flail of the Ages. As it was, she just inclined her head. It was wise to stick together, as the halfling had said before.
Jaheira just grunted some affirmative.
"Good," Mazzy nodded, "Because I have a bad feeling about this and the last thing we will need is you two trying to kill each other."
Haer'Dalis, well used to sudden and inexplicable teleportation phenomena and unencumbered by a need to see in the light, had coped better than he suspected most of the others had with their current situation. His best guess placed him in Spellhold. Likely the wardstone had activated the wards rather than removing them, and thus sent the group careering into some maze within the wizard prison. Clever, really – a defence mechanism which allowed for the righting of mistaken entrant identity, rather than a simple 'kill all' policy.
It was dark and still, damp and cold down here. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the walls, floor and ceiling, though the spiders who lurked therein were of the small, comparatively harmless varieties. The path seemed rather obvious; a quick perusal of the smooth, seamless grey stone walls had shown that there were no trap doors nor hidden passageways. There was but one way forward, through the passageway ahead, at the mouth of which Anomen was shivering, armour clattering with every quake. Honestly, it seemed ridiculous. In all that armour, beneath that leather jerkin and all that cloth besides, how could the knight be so cold? But then, Haer'Dalis was well adapted to extremes of weather. And, of course, to the chaos they brought.
"'Twould appear that we have been separated from our friends."
Anomen jumped spectacularly at the sound of Haer'Dalis's voice, spinning around and staring blindly into the darkness with pointlessly widened eyes. Not hiding his chuckle at the knight's helplessness, the tiefling stalked closer, making no effort to laden his light footsteps with sound. The knight jumped again as Haer'Dalis brushed past him, peering down the corridor thoughtfully, a hand on one sword hilt. Anomen backed up warily with a clatter of mail, and Haer'Dalis shook his head with a smirk.
"You seem rather wary of me, but altogether unbothered by your unseen surroundings."
"Unbothered?" Anomen's exclamation echoed, and the tiefling winced. Somewhere in the distance something groaned, like rusted metal hinges…and grinding bone. "I am wracked with worry for the fairer members of our group! And, indeed…somewhat apprehensive as to where we are and how to make it out!"
"Perhaps you should pray for a light, Peacock," Haer'Dalis suggested, standing straight now and backing up. The human would not be able to hear it yet, but the grinding sound was only growing louder. Had he been as cruel as the Red Wizard – or even as Viconia – he might have taken the opportunity to flit away and let whatever doom was thundering in the distance take the knight with it. But, really, where was the fun in that?
"And you do seem rather too confident of yourself," Anomen noted stiffly, oblivious.
"I am blessed with the sight of the demons, Peacock," Haer'Dalis reminded him, "And the darkness does not hinder me. I suspect we are indeed inside Spellhold's walls, and that some ward pulled us apart from our flock. Curious that it chose to place us together."
Anomen held back any tense words in favour of a quick prayer to Helm, eyes closed and hands clenched around the chunky grey symbol hung from his belt. Soft yellow light spread around them as he opened his eyes, blooming from his pupils and spreading out in a miasma of illumination. The walls were plain and grey, as Haer'Dalis had suspected. The young human at his side frowned and blinked in the sudden brightness, looking around himself at the odd cuboid room.
"What manner of place is this?" he asked more softly now, his sight giving him fair context in which to be wary. Haer'Dalis fought the urge to roll his eyes, shifting his weight as the grinding sound finally became audible to the young knight. Anomen tensed, eyes fixing on the room's only opening and the dark corridor beyond. "Did you hear something?"
"Quite clearly indeed, my Peacock," Haer'Dalis agreed. "The pathway beyond us is trapped with several closely placed tripwires. I would suggest we stay herein until we can determine what kind of threat we might be about to face. Tis a fair gambit, would you not say?"
Anomen nodded thoughtfully.
"The land we know, a battleground of our choosing – unless we hear something that suggests otherwise," he agreed automatically, the drone in his voice suggesting that he was reciting some learned tactics. He hefted his shield, expression wary – and warier still as his gaze shifted to the tiefling at his side. "I think it would be disingenuous to promise that I have your back, when I doubt you have mine."
Haer'Dalis laughed at that, and held out his hand for the man to shake. He did so, firmly, no trust in his eyes.
"I am glad that we understand one another, Peacock."
Elatharia awoke to the sound of grating stone on stone…and to the crawl of something maddening beneath her skin. She sat up with a yelp, slapping at her arms and legs and sides reflexively to bat away the writhing feeling. It failed. She was on her knees almost before her eyes opened…to see only darkness all about her. Her body trembled and bent against her will, golden light bursting behind her eyes…and flashing across the room. Momentarily her surroundings were illuminated; a long, deep hall of cross-vaulted grey and black stone, smooth and cold. The icy form of Bodhi stood adorned in glittering black at the high balcony many feet above her. She was smiling smugly, hands gripping the railing before her as she leaned forward to watch Elatharia.
"You bitch!" the Transmuter gasped it through the pain that wracked her body, and her burst of magic missiles must have come unexpectedly; as the darkness enveloped them both again, the blue-purple orbs of power zipped from her hands and crashed into the balcony, illuminating Bodhi's unbothered form a moment or two longer as they activated a shimmering wall of protective force around the vantage point. Elatharia slumped forward onto her palms, snarling against the pain in every inch of skin, muscle and bone. Her heart was thundering, and her breath was coming in fast pants. What had the vampire done to her? Was this poison?
"Blame me all you wish, Bhaalspawn. I am going to enjoy watching you wander into your doom before I leave," Bodhi crowed into the blackness.
Again came the rumbling of stone, a long grinding as if an impossibly heavy boulder were being pushed along the hard floor. With it came the sound of chittering, clattering creatures, and the thump of many feet. Only anger filled Elatharia, a crawling rage that somehow felt manifest in the agony wracking her body. Perhaps she ought to have been surprised by her own lack of fear, but surprise was absent also. Just rage, filling the dry blankness in her heart.
"Where is my sister?" the Transmuter snarled, dragging herself to her feet as the thundering of monstrous feet filled her world, accompanied by the growls and chatters of inhuman voices. "Imoen!"
"Look more to yourself, child," Bodhi suggested, half-heard through the clamour.
Something hard and cold slammed into the unseeing Transmuter's back. It knocked her with a huff onto her knees, both impacts which should surely have wounded her. Instead, they only fuelled the wrath begging to break free. She found herself on her feet once more, and when the next impact came, her rage exploded with it. Her world went white, and then blood red.
The Darkvision spell had been a stroke of genius. Not knowing that the wardstone was a fake of some kind (at least something other than what the Kara-Turan had claimed) Edwin had cast the spell to avoid illuminating himself along the dark walk from town to prison. Better any potential enemies see the blundering, armour-laden fools who carried torches than him. Now, of course, the ability to see in this dark labyrinth of cold stone corridors without a torch was a blessing. Wherever the others had been swept off to, few would have such a luxury.
Two things were fairly certain – this was no wizard's Maze spell, nor was it some tomb far from Spellhold. The wardstone had not possessed power enough to teleport the group; it had activated some protective energies in the doorway, separating them off from each other to give the prison time to determine whether or not they were intruders. And whether or not they deserved to die. It was a familiar method, a crude version of the wards around certain parts of Thaymount…and his own father's castle. Thoughtfully, Edwin touched the red jewelled torc resting against his collarbone. It felt cool, the enchantment-abjuration sparking beneath his fingertips.
His footsteps rang too loud in this echoing network of pathways even as he crept like some guilty thief upon his tiptoes, back pressed to the wall. Never turn your back on an open, dark corridor. A lesson hard-earned in Thay. As he neared the end of this first passageway – an arcing, rounded tunnel through the stone from the room into which the spell had thrown him alone – Edwin paused at the sound of grinding stone, the rumble that followed it reminding him of the herds of wild horses that roamed the hills and grasslands around Lake Mulsantir. Brought up short by uncertainty, Edwin eyed the crossroads ahead warily, painted in grey, white and black by Darkvision.
There were few sconces in the walls for torches, a few tripwires he had fairly tripped over, and only endless stone – no windows, no doors thus far. The ground was flat, even. It did not look worn down by water or more horrible fluids. It looked made for walking upon. Which meant that, wherever people were meant to be there out ought to be some kind of exit. Corridors ended in dead-end rooms, not simple dead-ends – some definition probably rendered this place as not a maze. The air was cold, dry – but not stale. There was a faint draft, thus some supply, and nothing of note had died down here lately. Which probably meant the place had an easy exit, or it had been cleaned recently. And – either way – thus there would be a way out.
The grinding and rumbling stopped, and for a moment all was still. Edwin let out a long, slow breath, frowning as he tried to consider his options. Then a roar – of fire, rather than some monster – shook the very ground upon which he stood, jolting him back from the wall rather rudely. A monster's roar followed, a long raw sound. Not a dragon. No. But something angry.
Peering at the crossroads anew, Edwin decided movement might be wiser than lingering. Shrouded in darkness with eyes that could see through it, he peeled himself from the stone and stepped forward, flexing magic-ready hands as he strode ahead with greater, swifter purpose. A straight line was better than a curve in these circumstances…
"Which way, Boo? The evil wizard sent us careering into the equally evil dark of the wizard prison, and all without our witch! We must not let any ills befall the noble Aerie! We must…must…"
The Rashemi's voice boomed out from an adjacent corridor, and Minsc's huge, heavy body collided with Edwin's before the Red Wizard could even begin to avoid it. The ranger exclaimed something righteous and wrathful as they staggered apart, his greatsword sliding free of its sheath on his back with a long, ringing scrape. Cursing, Edwin scrambled away further, fire blooming from his hands automatically. Oh, Kossuth be damned! There went the cover of darkness.
"You! You…dare to presume…"
"Dynaheir's killer! Evil, shameless Red Wizard!" Minsc roared, and the wildness in his eyes showed that he was well past the point of no return and lost to his berserk rage. Had he not made a promise to Elatharia? (And gods where was she?) But then, what was a promise worth to a barbaric Rashemi?
"I am not Dynaheir's killer, you baboon!" Edwin snarled, hurling flame at the ranger's unprotected face and wishing it would bite. Sadly, Minsc's reflexes were orders of magnitude faster than his foolish brain.
"Murderer! Evil! Minsc will have your head!"
Cursing again, Edwin let his fire magic sputter out and spat out the words for a Haste spell as he ran into the darkness, Minsc's threats and roars following him through the labyrinth. If he were to fight the fool, it would be on ground of his choosing.
Perth's maps should prove adequate enough in navigating out of this labyrinth. It was a shame about the others, but at least freedom waited at the end. Irenicus and Bodhi had what they wanted – Elatharia caught, used, and no doubt cast aside. A shame, really. She was probably dead. Still, the memory of her cutting that man's throat in cold blood was hardly something Yoshimo would recall fondly. Only…Irenicus and Bodhi were likely even more monstrous than the girl they had captured. There could be no pride in all that had passed – but he, Yoshimo, was hardly responsible. A prisoner of the soul, if not the body.
The bounty hunter had not been creeping through these cold, dark tunnels for long when he heard the roar of Minsc's berserk rage, followed by the rush of fire consuming air. On cue, the crossroads just beyond this narrow ledge were momentarily alight with flame-red light, a burst of magic that must have come from the Red Wizard. The illumination momentarily showed to Yoshimo a narrow passageway angled almost out of sight at the end of the ledge along which he walked…and the long drop down into the hallway stretching outwards as a dark abyss from his right side.
The light died a moment later, and the halls of Spellhold's labyrinth rang with running footsteps. The minor enchantment Perth had given to Yoshimo showed to him the form of Edwin skidding around the next corner, hands flying through the motions of a spell. He did not look frightened…just wrathful. And as a sheen of magic settled over his form, imbuing him with speed enough to zip forwards just as Minsc rounded the corner, still roaring Mulhorandi threats, Edwin accelerated out onto the ledge. His eyes alighted on Yoshimo's stilled form, and then to the map he held in his hands.
A chill of concern curdled the bounty hunter's blood. He flinched aside to let Edwin pass – for really the Red Wizard was as caught as he – and half-hoped that the Thayvian would continue on into the darkness. He did not, taking advantage of Minsc's blindness as the Rashemi lumbered one way and then the next, sword out.
"What in the Hells are you holding, snake?" Edwin snarled, catching Yoshimo by the elbow and pulling him around with far more strength than the bounty hunter would have expected. Obviously he was augmented with a number of spells – haste, strength…and something else, a protective shimmer over his skin.
"I…" Yoshimo was surprised to find that he did not have a lie ready. Hope had stolen from him that which had kept him alive – a ready skill for deception. The Red Wizard pulled from him the map which was supposed to be his salvation, blinking down at it with magically augmented eyes.
Edwin's frown deepened, and this time he stepped back, glancing behind the bounty hunter to the frothing mass of rage that was currently Minsc. Something else seemed to catch his eye, too, and his expression cleared suddenly. With a rattling gasp, he stepped back. To Yoshimo's increasing surprise and confusion, the wizard now brought forth a globe of light, and sent it drifting across the ledge. Minsc answered with more angry Rashemi exclamations. His feet pounded the ground as he charged.
Whirling about, Yoshimo winced to see the Rashemi bearing down on them like that. He considered dodging aside, but Edwin was too quick-witted for something so petty. What else? Try to diffuse the situation? That would have been amusingly ironic. In the end, it was Edwin's words that made up his mind, and almost distracted him from the slight form that shifted in the angled passageway at the end of the ledge.
"We have a fellow 'mistress' do we not? Whatever it is you are doing here, I will keep your secret – if you aid me now."
It was a conclusion which no one ought to have been able to fathom with such certainty so quickly, but few people could boast Edwin's intelligence – the Red Wizard did plenty of that on his own. It seemed he had considered the course of events, Yoshimo's familiarity with Bodhi and Havarian, the map in his hands…and come to the truth. He must have assumed that they followed the same mistress, and could not have realised the whole, terrible reality of what lay ahead…but it was enough. They understood each other, at least.
So Yoshimo gritted his teeth, wincing a little in the bright conjured light, and stepped out on to the middle of the ledge as Minsc continued to advance. The Rashemi wavered a little to see the bounty hunter standing there with palms out in a gesture of peace, a crooked smile on his face. Though still tense, wild-eyed and panting, the Rashemi did screech to halt on the slippery-smooth ground. The tip of his greatsword clanged to the stone between them, and his gaze slipped from the bounty hunter to the Red Wizard waiting behind him.
"Step aside, hunter of bounties," Minsc warned, "That Red Wizard is an evil traitor! And one responsible for the separation of us from our friends. Justice must be done! No matter what Elatharia demands!"
Yoshimo affected a nervous laugh, even as that slight figure standing in the passage stepped into view, shadowy and only half-seen in the gloomy edges of the conjured light. Something bright and feral glinted in silver-blue eyes. But, currently, Minsc was the greater threat.
"Now, friend," the bounty hunter tried, "Collect yourself. Edwin may be an arrogant bastard, but he is not responsible for…"
"No more words!" Minsc denied him, over Edwin's affronted snarl. The Rashemi raised his sword, and in his berserk rage it looked set to cleave Yoshimo in twain just to reach the wretched Red Wizard!
Gritting his teeth, Yoshimo sighed even as he pulled free his katana, skittering forward under the swing of the greatsword. Really, the Rashemi was making this too easy. As Minsc staggered forward, Yoshimo braced himself against the impact, knowing that the force of the collision would do what he could not have alone. They crashed together, the bounty hunter staggering even as he dug in his heels – but the angle had been just right. Edwin's breathless, disbelieving laugh proved that to be true.
The chamber rang with the clatter and scrape of Minsc's greatsword as it dropped to the floor of the ledge. He wheezed, and trembled, and hot red blood spilled in a torrent over Yoshimo's hands, soaking his sleeves, splattering upon the floor. Edwin laughed again, the sound grating against Yoshimo's nerves.
"M-Minsc?"
A high, unfamiliar voice cut through the rattling of the Rashemi's breath and the big ranger tensed even more, trying to turn in spite of the enchanted katana impaling him through stomach and lungs. The action tore him more, horribly, and he gurgled half a groan, sinking to his knees as Yoshimo slid the blade free, glassy eyes meeting impassive ones for a confused, betrayed moment before Minsc fell back, turning his head to see the owner of that voice.
Yoshimo looked up too and saw a girl approaching – vaguely familiar, she must have been close to twenty, no older certainly. Thin enough that her collarbone stood out starkly at her neckline, her shoulders sharp beneath a thin grey shirt, her skin was pale beneath the bruises, pale in the manner of one who has been trapped away from the sun for too long. Her mop of straight pink hair fell to her shoulders, framing a face now gaunt from malnutrition, a brilliant bruise blooming over a bump on her temple. Her eyes were shining with tears, and behind the liquid they shone with something else – a sheen of silvery iridescence over brilliant blue. Her brow was scrunched up with horror and disbelief. Her chin trembled. She fell to her knees by Minsc's fallen, twitching form and tried to turn him onto his side, to stop him choking on his own torrent of blood as Yoshimo watched. The girl would have to die as well.
A glance over his shoulder showed that there was no sign of Edwin. Slippery bastard.
"Im…" Minsc coughed, and spattered the girl's tunic with red droplets. "Im…Imoen." And the wonder in his voice, the relief, the happiness was evident in spite of his imminent death. She sobbed in answer, holding his blood-slicked hand to her face when he brought it to her cheek.
Their reunion was short lived, and Yoshimo was taking a step forward, his katana still trailing ill-gotten blood upon the floor, when Minsc's breath rattled and his hold on Imoen slipped. His life left him, and he fell back, flopping half over the edge of the walkway. Imoen's head snapped up, tears streaking her face even as her expression twisted into one of rage – a rage that looked altogether ill-fitting…and inhuman. Her eyes sparked with golden light, and then flared with it.
"Why?" she snarled, and the teeth she bared were sharp and lengthening as she stood, her skin splitting around her eyes to reveal ridged ebon hide beneath.
Yoshimo ran two steps before the creature caught him, his katana rattling on the floor. He caught a glimpse of Edwin's eyes watching him from the shadows of the corridor ahead and the wizard's dark smirk as the Kara-Turan was dragged back. Yoshimo's attempt to pull free only tore him through his leathers as the girl shed her human skin like shredded clothes, her hold on him cutting him even unintentionally. He screamed, and pulled, and screamed some more as pain exploded through his stomach.
She dragged him back to Minsc's fallen form, and he could not bring himself to look back at the horror that loomed over him. Wrongness rolled from the beast, an unnatural horror beyond any he had experienced. He trembled at her feet, half-fallen over Minsc's dead body, gasping and twitching from the pain.
"Why?" she snarled again, and when he did not answer she flung him over the ledge, her word becoming an inhuman growl as she lost hold of her humanity entirely.
Coughing blood, crying with fear and agony, Yoshimo toppled over the side. He scrabbled for a hold, instinctively grabbing at Minsc's arm – but he only succeeded in pulling the ranger with him, and both fell into the darkness.