Chapter Thirty-Seven – Shadows
Jaiyan wrapped a hand around her sword hilt and tried to ignore the heavy knot that seemed to have lodged in her belly. She was aware of every hitching breath, the sting of sweat on her eyelids, the way her shoulders were tight. Every frayed nerve screamed at her to run, to get away, to get herself anywhere but here. She remembered striding through dark, dripping kobold caves, years ago, and hoping to all that might be holy that she did not look half as terrified as she felt. Sword in hand, Deekin at her left side, and flinching violently at every shifting shadow. Of course, that time, all you found was a big fat white dragon who actually kept a journal dedicated to his own greatness.
She risked another glance past Valen, saw more slender bones, jutting upwards and curving overhead. Again, she wondered why they had managed to come this far, why nothing was circling them. Unless it is, she thought sourly. Maybe they've just let you come this far.
Blindly, she reached out, caught Valen's arm. Tugged him closer, and murmured, "I feel like bait."
He kissed her forehead. "I know."
Up ahead, she heard the smooth, measured sound of Imloth sliding an arrow from his quiver. Without looking back, the drow raised one hand. Jaiyan swallowed and trailed after him. She knew the plan, knew that they would be staying close together, moving slowly, exploring the cavern. Hopefully finding something a little more defensible than open rock, she thought. She was under strict orders to remain with Valen and Deekin, while the drow would keep themselves away from the light or the kobold's spells.
Another pale bone spar arched up. She reached out, touched its cool, flat surface. Peering close, she saw odd markings, carved deep and travelling in strange spirals across it. She touched Deekin's shoulder, gestured for him to look. "Deeks, can you read these?"
He shook his head. "Nope. Not really. Look like marks on walls, but bit different." He traced the runes slowly with one hand. "Deekin thinks they look a bit like dragon writing."
She groaned. "Please tell me you're just guessing."
"Mostly."
"Don't you remember what happened the last time you saw draconic writing in the Underdark?"
Deekin blinked slowly. "Yep. Boss got us out of that one, though."
"Only just."
"Look like wards," the kobold added, still whispering. "Trapping wards."
So how is it these things are out and about and eating drow? Her gaze wandered past Deekin, to where Andaryn stood poised, waiting while Imloth crept on ahead to where a high stone ridge swept across the cavern. They did something, she realised. Saerith did, or one of the others, either deliberately or not. Something that broke through the wards and let them get free.
She drew in a slow breath, and wished almost immediately that she had not. The air was thick and dank and tasted of something rotten. A hand closed on her shoulder, and she nearly screamed.
"You need to move," Dakesh murmured into her ear. "Quickly, and quietly."
She jerked away from him, and her intended retort died on her lips when Valen pushed roughly past her. His flail swung out, and she heard it impact. She swung round, saw him still moving, falling into step with Dakesh. Devil's Bane whipped out again, and the spines caught and pulled and she thought she saw something fall and crumple against the ground.
"Deekin," Imloth called. "Fire spells. Now."
Turning away from the drow, the bard rattled off a swift incantation. Fire rippled out from his clenched hands, and Jaiyan heard a high-pitched shriek. Bathed in the sudden flare from the spell, the bones above seemed stark and white and severe. With her shoulders pressed against cold stone, she twisted her head, saw Valen as he spun his flail. Beside him, Dakesh swung in low, raking his sword up and out. Another spell sizzled past her, blindingly bright, sinking into half-unseen skin and searing.
On her other side, Imloth cried out, jarringly.
She whirled round, saw him stagger. His bow was on the ground, his sword half out of its sheath. Something slammed into his shoulder, and he stumbled again. Not far away, Andaryn pirouetted elegantly and dragged his sword free, dripping.
Without thinking, Jaiyan hurtled past Deekin. She ignored Andaryn's snarled command to fall back. Reaching out, she grabbed Imloth's arm, hauled him up. Dived in front of him when she felt the air move, gripping her sword with both hands. Something heavy ploughed into the blade, and she held on, wincing when the muscles along her shoulders twinged. She lashed out with one foot, landed a solid kick. Wrenched her sword free and swore when thick, hot blood spattered her face and hands. She heard the gratifying thud of the creature falling, and could not quite suppress a grin.
Wordlessly, Andaryn slid past her. His sword carved into flesh, ripped clear, and then he was gone again, moving like smoke.
Claws dug against her shoulder. She leaped away, felt her leathers tear. She turned too quickly, spoiling her balance. Imloth's sword flashed past her face. Throwing herself back, she saw him drop to his knees before uncoiling upwards and burying his blade almost to the hilt. She heard Dakesh swearing, turned in time to see him lurching back, blood streaming too freely from his left shoulder. A tangle of white energy leapt from Deekin's hands, burrowed deep into half-unseen flesh. The mercenary recovered his stance and pushed forward, sword flickering in agile hands.
"Jaiyan!" Valen grabbed her shoulder, pulled her behind him. "Stay there."
"But Imloth…"
"Is fine. Stay there," he snapped. "There's too many of these things. Stay behind me."
She gritted her teeth, made herself stay silent. With her sword clenched in one hand, and her back against the stone, she felt useless. On both sides, she could hear the sounds of battle and the sparking, rushing noise of spells. She tipped her head back, stared up at the pale arch of bone overhead, and the stone beyond. In the faint light from the pendant around her neck, everything seemed dim and grey and washed-out.
Above her, the uneven stone seemed suddenly to ripple. She squinted, saw bits of gravel drop and roll. Bracing herself, she stepped away from the rock and thrust up. Her sword sank through flesh and snagged against bone. She tried to heave the blade free, but the creature above her clung to the rock face. Talons raked past her face. When her second attempt to yank her sword away failed, she swore. Pushing up with both feet, she lashed out blindly, grimaced when her fist met cold, scaled flesh. Could be worse, she thought. You could've punched the rock face, and that would have really hurt.
The creature hissed, and she heard the scrabbling sound of claws against stone. She landed another blow with her elbow, then grasped her sword hilt and tore it clear. The creature thumped onto the ground, and she rammed the blade into it again, held on as it shuddered and twisted.
"Jaiyan." Valen's hands curled around her shoulders. "Are you alright?"
He was breathing hard, she noted, and his armour was splashed crimson. She nodded and summoned a ragged grin. "My sword got stuck, so I punched it."
His eyebrows rose. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Boss?" Deekin brushed against her arm. "Boss alright?"
She nodded again. "You?"
"Yep."
Around her, the darkness was silent, unmoving. A quick glance to one side showed her the two drow, both of them coiled and waiting. "What now?"
"We move in further," Andaryn answered.
She jerked her chin at the high spars of bone. "What about those?"
"What about them?"
"I want to know what they are." She shrugged. "Might help us."
"No. It won't." Andaryn flicked blood off his sword. "All that will help us is scouring this place clean and somehow getting back to Lith My'athar."
"You're afraid," she snapped before she could think better of it.
His whole frame went rigid. "And you're not?" He shook his head slowly. "Come on. We have little time."
***
Valen glared at the unrelenting gloom and, perhaps for the first time, wished for sunlight. He knew the Underdark, knew its paths and caverns and how to survive them. The rules were different from Sigil's, but just as deadly, and he had learned them quickly. But down here, so deep that the stone seemed too heavy overhead, he found himself craving open air and clean light. Perhaps those months on the surface had changed him, or perhaps the invasive, clinging darkness was unsettling him. Either way, he wanted to be away from here. Beside him, Jaiyan walked quietly, sword held low and gaze fixed ahead. He would kill every creature in this cavern if it meant keeping her safe, but the stone ramparts on both sides stayed suspiciously bare of movement. Overhead, he saw nothing but empty air, and somewhere in front of them, more pale white bones arced up, curling around in a serpentine pattern before disappearing behind another outcrop.
"Do you hear that?" Dakesh murmured from behind him.
Valen froze. Under the measured tempo of his own breathing, he picked up the slight, cautious noise of something scraping against stone. "I can't see them," he whispered back. "Following?"
"Yes," Dakesh said. "Or waiting."
Valen followed the mercenary's gaze, saw how the high stone outcrops narrowed before dropping flat. "They'll slaughter us."
Dakesh grabbed his elbow, slowed him. Leaned in to murmur, "Pull the drow back. We go in first."
He nodded slowly. That made sense; the drow had bows, and he and the mercenary were big enough to almost block the gap where the ramparts lowered. Still, it was far from perfect; they could not hope to hold that position for long, and he was loathe to leave the rear guard almost entirely to Jaiyan and Deekin.
He slipped past Jaiyan, caught Imloth's shoulder. His attempt at drow signing was sloppy, he knew, but Imloth nodded without comment. He waited while the drow flitted past him, silently settled themselves against the outcropping. With Dakesh beside him, he edged forward until his shoulder was against the slope of the rock. He glanced ahead, and thought he saw them, clustered and waiting.
Like seeing spirits, he thought. Half there and half not, like the strange, fluttering things he had sometimes seen called to battlefields in the Abyss. Except these things are under no one's control, and are not summoned.
He gripped Devil's Bane tighter, exchanged a quick look with Dakesh, and launched himself past the end of the outcrop. The flail scythed out, connected hard and mercilessly. He spun, lifting himself half off the ground, and slammed full-force into another creature. When it gave way and sagged, he finished it with a sharp blow that tore out what he supposed what its throat.
This, he understood. The simple, instinctive step and motion and whirl of violence. Even years before Grimash't had given him Devil's Bane and unleashed him, he knew how to do this, how to follow an attacker's movements, duck a swung blade, and retaliate harder and quicker.
Even now, even after Sigil and the Reaper and Cania, the blood roared and sang beneath his skin. Each snapping, powerful stroke seemed obvious, innate and deadly. Vaguely, he recalled Grimash't laughing about how the skinny little tiefling he had picked up had filled out nicely, and carried muscle in all the right places. He spun again, and the flail head smacked into flesh. He could smell shed blood, and the scent was all wrong. Thick and dark, like something that should be already dead. Beside him, he was aware of Dakesh, dancing past him, cutting in under the sweep of his flail. An arrow sailed past his head, and somewhere behind, he heard Deekin chanting.
Jaiyan was back there, he remembered. Almost stumbling, he brought the flail up swiftly. No, he thought. She'll be fine. Concentrate.
More arrows rained past him. Dakesh staggered, and Valen heard him swear viciously. He swung in front of the mercenary, brought the flail haft up and tensed. The locked muscles of his arm and shoulder absorbed the punishing impact as something slammed into him. Claws grated against his armour. He drove an elbow forward, felt the creature shudder and pull back. Devil's Bane followed, sweeping and connecting.
Dakesh grinned, nodded, and turned so that his shoulder was lined up against Valen's, blocking the gap again.
Fighting side by side and in step with each other. To his right, Valen saw one creature hurtle over the rampart, already passing him. He barked out a warning to Imloth, and an arrow whipped out, sank through its skull. The mercenary was still beside him, covering his weaponless left side, and Valen grinned. The tactic had been one he had been forced to learn upon arrival at Lith My'athar; Grimash't had cared little for numbers and casualties on the plains of the Blood Wars. Sometimes, unconsciously perhaps, he had been half-aware of the slaves alongside him. But then Grimash't had called him aside, and told him how well he killed, and how he would stay alive, gods damn it all, for as long as possible, because he was valuable, and his master's treasure.
Valen snarled and snapped Devil's Bane forward, hard enough that the spines tore clear and bit into the stone beneath.
Someone grabbed his elbow tightly. He shook himself free and spun again, searching the darkness for the next attacker, the next onslaught. He heard someone say his name, low and urgent.
"Valen." Imloth this time, or again; he was not sure. "Valen."
"What?"
"They've fallen back." The drow was breathing hard, obsidian skin sheened with sweat. "Regrouping."
Valen blinked slowly. "Jaiyan?"
"I'm here." She slid past Imloth, caught his hand. "Valen, love, are you alright?"
"Yes. You're not hurt?"
She shook her head, raised his gloved hand to her lips. "No. Every time I tried to make myself useful and hit something, Imloth shot it."
"Good."
She did not let go of his hand. "What do they look like? Properly, I mean. I can see…I don't know. Not much. And my head hurts if I look too closely."
He glanced down, to the bleeding, unmoving heap of flesh and skin on the ground. "Like…lizards," he said, eventually. He narrowed his eyes; staring too long made his eyes ache. "In a way. Scales." He tipped one over with his foot. "Ridges. Long necks."
"Wings?"
"No wings."
Jaiyan grinned raggedly. "How very reassuring. How big are they?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Not really. Just tell me something comforting."
"They're tiny," Valen said, entirely dead-pan. "Smaller than your kobold and just as unthreatening."
"Bad liar, tiefling."
She was still holding onto him, he realised, small fingers wrapped around his wrist. The light from the stone turned the angles of her face harsh and shadowed and severe. He looked down into her hooded blue eyes and decided that he much preferred to see her by sunlight. But you fell for her down here, he thought. Didn't see her in sunlight until Cania, and that was terrible.
"Come on." Imloth stepped past him. "No use standing around."
Reluctantly, Valen moved away, felt the gentle brush of Jaiyan's fingers against his arm, then his face. He waited, poised and listening to the darkness while Deekin bustled up to Dakesh with healing potions, checking the wide slice on the mercenary's shoulder. Andaryn growled something about surfacers and bleeding, but accepted the potion that Imloth flung at him. He was holding himself gingerly, Valen noticed, all his weight slung to his right side. A closer look showed him a long, welling gash down the outside of the drow's left thigh.
Something rustled in the shadows. Valen snarled, took an instinctive step forward. Imloth caught his arm, halted him. Signed that no, he shouldn't.
"Imloth…"
The drow's hand flickered again, and Valen understood too many ahead. Before he could demand some alternative, Imloth signed to him to wait, listen. Need to see more. Vantage.
He wanted to snap that it was a bad idea, that all they had to do was push on, push on and kill until everything was dead.
Imloth gripped his arm again. Motioned with his other hand that we're bleeding. Hurt. Can't afford to be cornered.
Valen exhaled slowly, nodded. Even if he and Imloth and Dakesh threw themselves at anything that came howling out of the blackness, there was no telling who might be left standing afterward. They needed a better look at this cavern, perhaps even somewhere to hole up with their backs covered. He could hear the ticking sound of claws against the ground, and leathery skin rubbing against stone. Not coming close, he thought fiercely. Staying back. Circling. Watching us.
With Dakesh just behind him, he led the others down and past the outcropping, to where the blackness pressed in on both sides. He looked up, tried to see the far side of the cavern, and failed. How big is this place?
Imloth glided ahead of him, one arm curled behind his back. His fingers danced, almost too fast to follow, but Valen understood further up. Defend there. Better look.
He followed the drow's narrowed gaze, saw how the uneven, rough rock crested up. Square-cut stone slabs protruded further up, their dark surfaces lined with runes. Even at this distance, Valen could see odd shapes and hard lines, and the skin between his shoulders tightened. Who would've taken the time to cut balustrades down here? And why?
Still, apprehension aside, the solid blocks of stone would offer some measure of protection, and a chance for decent footing.
Imloth darted up first, climbing enviably swiftly. He swung himself up and over the first balustrade with one hand, signed back that all was clear. Dakesh followed, with Deekin hopping up behind him, tiny claws digging against the stone.
Valen glanced back at the darkness. Something fluttered, all long legs and spiked limbs, slithering behind the jutting shape of an outcrop. He growled, gripped Devil's Bane tighter. He felt Jaiyan's fingers trace against the back of his hand, and he wanted to turn around, reassure her. Instead, he made himself stay still, listened as she scrambled up the slope, Andaryn's light, quieter footfalls trailing her.
The shadows shifted, and he had time to heft his flail and brace before the creature slammed full-force into him. He held on, wondering why the hells he had not seen it sooner. The flail dipped and spun, and split the thing's skull apart. He registered the wet, heavy thump as it fell, and then he was moving again, whirling to meet the next two. Claws clanged against his breastplate. He jerked away, and Devil's Bane snapped up. Somewhere behind, he was aware of bowstrings cranking tight. Two arrows flashed past his head, sank almost fletching-deep in scaled skin. More followed, flying thick and swift out of the darkness.
On the crimson plains of the Blood Wars, when the air had been full of flame and arrows and screams, he had never trusted archers behind him. He had seen too many battle slaves fall, usually shot between the shoulders, or else pinned at the neck. Grudges or rivalries, perhaps, or clumsy mistakes, or sheer bad timing. He suspected the former, and had once felt his legs give way under him when an arrow slammed into the back of his thigh.
Grimash't had dragged him clear, he remembered. Dragged him clear, had him healed, and then flogged him for making careless mistakes.
Slowly, cautiously, Valen let himself move backwards, until his shoulders were almost against the slope. An arrow snicked over his head, disappeared into one creature's shoulder. The thing snarled, showing curved teeth, and kept moving.
Valen sidestepped its lunge and drove Devil's Bane against its head. He did not wait to see it drop, turned instead, and spun the flail up. Another volley of arrows took out the next three. Given half a heartbeat's time to gather himself, he swallowed down a deep breath. He wanted to run at them, to hammer Devil's Bane into them again and again until they were dead.
No. You'll get cut off. There's too many of them.
He growled and flung himself forward. A quick, vicious stroke tore out his next attacker's throat. He heard more of them, circling behind him. He turned, and grinned raggedly when he saw two of them topple, bristling with arrows.
"Valen!" Imloth's voice, and sounding frayed. "Get up here. Valen!"
He let his momentum carry him, let himself almost fall into the creature to his left. It hissed, buckling under his weight. Teeth snapped, close to his neck. He slammed one knee against its ribs, and the flail followed, taking off most of its head. He was aware of Imloth, calling for him again, calling for him to move back, right now, because he was going too far, and couldn't he see that, damn it?
He stopped. Thick dark blood dripped from Devil's Bane. He could see more of them, seething together, watching him through fierce dark eyes. Jostling each other, digging claws against the stone. Two arrows rattled down, another three following. No, he thought. Need to go back. Too many. Need to move. He forced back the ferocious, bone-deep urge to keep going, keep killing. He loosened his grip on the flail, closed his eyes. Heard the familiar whine and thump of arrows finding targets. His head was spinning, and he felt free.
"Valen!"
He opened his eyes, saw teeth and claws and rippling skin. Without thinking, he twisted his wrist sharply, felt the pull as the flail bit into solid muscle. He wrenched clear, and turned again. Reached up, grabbed a hold on the slope. Pulled himself up, one-handed and carefully. Beneath his fingers, the stone was rough and chill and old. More arrows sheeted past him.
He grasped the edge of the balustrade, hauled himself over.
"You're alright?" Already at his side, Jaiyan pushed back a handful of sweat-damp red hair. "Valen?"
"I'm fine."
She touched the deep scrape across his breastplate. "Close."
"They're falling back." Imloth turned, propped his bow across his shoulder. "There's still a lot of them out there, though."
Valen pushed up from his knees, winced when the tendons down his calves pulled. "Numbers?"
"As many as we've already killed," Andaryn said. "And more, I'd wager."
He looked down, saw the runes carved into the stone. Spreading all along the balustrade, and up, to the one above them. "And these?"
Deekin shrugged. "Might be for warning. Might be for protection. Deekin not hold out hope, though."
"If they rush us, there's not much room," Valen said.
"No," Imloth answered. "But we've got the advantage of bows and height."
"That can't last."
"I agree. Keep moving up?"
Above, the edges of the stone slabs were stark and sharp. "Not yet."
He looked back down, to where he could see them, or the edges of them, clustering together, jaws snapping. Scaled skin hugging the sharp lines of defined muscle and hard bone. What had the Valsharess planned for them, he wondered, and why had she gone to such lengths to obtain them?
"Valen?" Jaiyan's hand slipped through his.
He could smell fresh sweat on her, and the light stone jolted with every deep, dragging breath she took. She's blind down here, he thought, and it stung. She can't see these things, and you barely can, most of the time.
Should've left her behind.
He pulled her tighter against his side, let his tail wrap around her leg. "I'm here."
"Look down there." She tugged insistently at his hand. "Gods above, Valen. Look down."
He obeyed, looked past the stone ramparts, to where the long spars of bone rose, all tall, curving angles, pale and elegant. Snaking between outcrops and disappearing behind a high cliff wall, and looking down from this height, he saw the pattern they made. "It's...it's a dragon."
"It was a dragon." She laughed, nervously. "Biggest dragon I ever saw. It's huge."
And it was, all white lines and splaying shapes. He tipped his head to one side, and saw how the thick fused backbone split the cavern in two. How others rose up on both sides, wide and smooth and strangely bright in the darkness. Why had it died down here, he thought, and what had killed it, and left its bones all picked clean and gleaming and circled with runes?
Beside him, Andaryn was staring, his red eyes narrow and his teeth gritted.
"Did you know?"
"No," the drow said. "I didn't…no. I didn't know. How could I?"
Valen opened his mouth to snarl at the drow, but the air blew cold and brittle against his face, and he heard them, hissing. Nudging each other forward, curling claws against the stone. Gauging the distance, he knew, and testing their enemies. "Imloth," he muttered. "If they rush us…"
Imloth nocked an arrow, drew the fletching back to his cheekbone. "I know."
The drow would pick more than a few off, Valen was certain. And with Deekin throwing spells in tandem with the arrows, he supposed they might be able to hold them back. But for how long? The thought pressed, worrying and gnawing. If even one of those things cleared the edge of the balustrade, they would be facing chaos. A cramped space, and darkness, and a slope beneath…for a terrible, needling moment, Valen almost wished he were alone.
Or maybe just alone with Imloth. The drow to keep them back, and himself to cut down anything that crossed the stone slab.
"Jaiyan?"
"Yes?"
"When they get across…"
"I know," she said, softly. She smiled up at him, gently, and touched his face. "I'll be behind you. There's no room up here, so how's about we kick them back down once they're dead? Make them work harder for us. I think we owe it to them."
Despite himself, despite the clinging, rotten darkness, he smiled. "I'll do the heavy hitting."
"And I'll claim all the glory afterwards."
Imloth's bowstring released. As quickly, the drow aimed and fired a second. On his other side, Andaryn nocked and drew. Below, another creature tumbled, skewered through the throat, falling heavily against the stone. Relentlessly, others charged over it, hurtling until they reached the foot of the slope.
They're stopping, Valen thought. Why?
"Clever bastards," Dakesh muttered sourly. "They're baiting us."
Arrows don't last forever. Valen gripped the edge of the balustrade, swore when he saw most of them slinking back, sidling out of range and circling. Weaving in and out of the shadows, quickly enough that he could barely tell where their dark, scaled skin ended and the stone began. "Dakesh, watch them."
"Naturally. I'll let you know the instant you're about to be attacked from behind. Or above. Whichever comes first."
Another monster screeched, toppling backwards, fletching sprouting from its chest. Valen growled wordlessly, clutched at the balustrade until the tips of his fingers turned numb. His tail was lashing, and he wanted to be doing something useful. Not counting arrows as they run out.
"Deeks," Jaiyan said. "Give them the biggest fireball you can."
Flame bloomed from the little kobold's knotted hands. Valen shied away, blinking rapidly. He heard the rush and roar as the fireball cannoned down. The stink of charred flesh assailed him, along with the spluttering sound of some other spell.
"Next time," he grated, "Warn me."
Jaiyan snorted. "I did ask for the biggest fireball he could manage."
The drow fired again, while the kobold called a tangle of lightning. Valen spun Devil's Bane once, twice, and twice again. Under his armour, his shoulders were rigid, and his heart was galloping. The thunderous report of another fireball smashing too close made him clench his teeth.
"Valen." Jaiyan closed her hand over his, and some part of his mind noted again how much smaller hers was. "You still there?"
His tail twitched irritably. Somewhere down the slope, he heard howling, and movement, harried and nearly frantic. "Yes," he said, thickly. He looked at her, almost desperate. "Yes. I just…"
"I know." She pried his hand off the edge, kissed his palm. "I'm here."
He wanted to say something, something about Sigil, maybe, or Azraleth, or Grimash't. But how could he, when Imloth was sighting and firing so fast it seemed his hands were a smooth, practiced blur, when Deekin was chanting another fireball into life? But until their enemies broke through, and the arrows ran dry, all he could do was stand, and try not to think too much, and wait.