As always, I owe many thanks to everyone who is following this story. I own very little.
Chapter Thirty-Six – Trials
The wind keened between high rock shelves, and brought with it the swirling dust. The stone shimmered with the heat, and when the twisting magic of the portal faded, Kera gulped down a breath too quickly and coughed.
"Where is this?" Imoen murmured. "It's so empty."
Kera nodded slowly. She looked at the steep, sharp angles of the ravine, dry and hot. Overhead, the bright ribbon of the sky was fierce. She listened, and heard nothing beneath the wind. "Is this right?"
"I'm not sure," Jaheira answered. "Do you want to go back? Try again?"
"No," she said, and her voice bounced too loudly against the stone. "If we're meant to be here, then we stay here."
Sword drawn, she led them down the ravine. Wordlessly, Solaufein flanked her, his whole frame poised and his red eyes narrowed. The black edges of his armour seemed an odd, jarring cry against the sand-coloured rock. His shoulder brushed hers, and she let herself smile slightly.
For too long, the ravine stayed deserted. It coiled east and Kera followed it until the back of her neck was soaked with sweat and her feet felt too hot inside her boots. The glare of the sun turned punishing as the late morning swung into noon, and when they stopped beneath the welcome curve of an overhang, no one spoke.
Imoen leaned into the gloom and rested her forehead against the stone. Minsc passed out the waterskins, and Kera sank down onto her heels until Jaheira touched her shoulder and motioned her up again. She led them on, too aware of the grit and dust in her hair, around her eyes, in her mouth and her nose whenever she breathed. The morning in Amkethran seemed faraway, and idly, she let her thoughts linger on how she had stayed in the bathhouse with Solaufein until the water had cooled, until her fingers and feet had wrinkled. The hot, heavy silence pressed in on all sides, and even when she tried counting her footfalls, or listening to Solaufein's even breathing, or the slight jangle when he shifted his weapon belt, her skin prickled uncomfortably.
Underfoot, the stone became rough and chipped, and the path swept up and over the high crest of the cliffs on the lefthand side. On the far side, huge steps were hewn into the rock, and they wound down onto a flat, wide plain. There, the wind screamed, and winnowed the sand between the slender towers that rose up towards the blue spread of the sky.
"There," Jaheira said, and her voice sounded scraped and thin. "Balthazar talked about a fortress."
"All the way out here," Imoen muttered. "Why? What else is out here?"
Kera said nothing. She stared at the spearing tips of the towers, and wondered how much they hid, what lay in the stone beneath them.
"They'll see us," Valygar said. "Anyone who cares to glance this way will see everything."
"What else can we do?" Jaheira shook her head. "We need to be there, and there's no other way."
"Well," Haer'Dalis said. "I suppose if we walk into a hail of arrows, then at least we will know that someone is in there, and that this delightful jaunt hasn't been useless, after all."
"You'll be going first, then?" Imoen elbowed him. "We could see how many arrows you can dodge."
"Your compassion warms me, my dear, as always."
"Why come here?" Imoen wondered aloud. "It's so far from anywhere. Even if all they wanted was to menace local merchants, it seems a lot of effort."
"I don't know," Kera said, very quietly. "I want Abazigal dealt with. I want to know who he is, and what he knew about Sendai and Yaga-Shura."
"You think he knew about them?"
"Probably. I don't see how he could not, not really. Yaga-Shura knew about Illasera. They're all here at the same time. At the right time."
"And our flame-haired temptress of a new friend knew of them all," Haer'Dalis said, and grinned. "Coincidence?"
"No," Kera said, and her voice stayed steady. "But I don't know what it does mean. Not yet."
The towers were sun-bleached and pale, and the windowless stone shimmered in the heat. Walking beside Kera, Solaufein saw tall gates, and an arching span of stone above, and nothing moving. The wind plucked at his hair, and usually, he would have been glad of the distraction, of the play of it against his face. But here, the towers were still and silent, and the howl of the wind was loud enough that his ears rang.
The gates were closed, and before them stood a young man. He leaned back against the stone, and his arms were folded across his chest. Long dark hair framed the elegant angles of his face, and his eyes were pale and fierce.
"Strangers," the young man said, and his smile was thin. "Strangers crossing the desert. Why are you here?"
"We need to speak to Abazigal," Kera said.
"Do you? And why might that be?"
"There are things we need to discuss."
The young man's smile widened. "Such as?"
"Bhaalspawn," Kera said, coldly. "And why the merchants of Amkethran fear to travel with their goods."
"And so you come all this way? Whatever for? Why would you think we out here would have anything to do with Amkethran?"
"Abazigal," Haer'Dalis said lightly. "We have heard this name whispered in fear. It seems unnecessarily cruel that a place such as Amkethran would need to become a haven for those traders who have become afraid to travel these lands."
"Does it?" The young man's pale eyes narrowed, and he looked at Kera again. "Then why is it that Bhaalspawn follow in the wake of all this? Why is it that you are here?"
The young man's hands dropped to his sides, and Solaufein noticed how pale and fine his fingers were. While the young man kept his gaze on Kera, he stepped forward and breathed in. He tasted the sun-baked stone, and the sand, and the metal and leather scent that he knew was himself. There was something else as well, something dry and strange, and he wondered what secrets the young man hid.
"We're here to see Abazigal," Jaheira said, and every word was granite-hard. "Take us to him."
"Take you to him? You, the servants of a Bhaalspawn?"
"What do you mean?"
"You," he said, and grinned again at Kera. "The Bhaalspawn from the north. Abazigal spoke of you. You are Kera, yes? Kera of Candlekeep?"
"Yes."
"Abazigal wishes nothing from you but your death."
"Oh, a surprising revelation, indeed," Haer'Dalis remarked, entirely bland. "Perchance you could take yourself back to Abazigal and let him know that such a threat is neither original nor, well, particularly threatening? Leaving the door open after yourself would be a courtesy, you understand."
The young man's pale eyes glinted, and watching him, Solaufein felt the skin between his shoulders tighten. He was unarmed, and his hands were curled uselessly at his sides, and his entire stance was loose, uninterested.
"No," the young man said. "I don't think so."
Kera's sword lifted, a bright line. "Who are you?"
"I am Abazigal's son," he said, and spread his hands wide. "My name is Draconis."
A white tangle of energy spat from the young man's fingers, and Kera darted sideways. Solaufein followed, turning so that his shoulder shielded her. Sidelong, he saw the young man lazily raise his hand again, and the flame spell Imoen called hissed into nothing around him.
The girl tried again, and again, and Solaufein heard her crying out when her fourth spell sputtered into sparks. Minsc moved in front of her, and his mace swept against the Draconis' shoulder. The blow spun him around, and Solaufein leaped. His first stroke swept the young man's feet out, and Minsc's mace cracked hard against his chest.
"Minsc," Jaheira called. "Again! Keep him down."
The mace slammed against the young man's spine, and his head rolled back. Long dark hair spilled across the stone. Solaufein drove his sword into the young man's chest and saw how he still smiled, even as the blade dipped between his ribs.
"Wait," Jaheira said. "He's not…Solaufein, is he dead?"
"I don't know," he answered, honestly. He pulled the sword clear, and something very close to apprehension brushed him when he saw how little blood fouled the blade. "He's…I don't know."
He knelt, and heard Kera's murmured plea to be careful. He reached out to touch the wound on the young man's chest, and the white flash of a spell shoved him backwards. Half-blinded, he scrambled upright, dragging his sword with him. He heard the others, Minsc calling for Imoen, and Jaheira shouting for Kera.
Close by, he heard the shuddering, tearing sound of something moving.
Something big, he thought, and backed away. He squinted, and saw nothing but the pale blur of the spell. Someone caught his wrist and hauled him around, and he stumbled against Haer'Dalis' slim shoulder.
"I can't see," he snarled.
"Stay behind me." The tiefling's touch melted away briefly, then clasped his other arm, guiding him away. "There."
"Oh," Kera said, and he heard her draw in a shuddering breath. "Oh."
Solaufein growled. He could smell it, dry and warm and coppery, and when he blinked enough that his vision cleared somewhat, he saw it. Dark scales clung to a frame that was all solid muscle, and somewhere far above, the creature's head was narrow and shrewd. Above the open jaws, strange pale eyes burned. He had heard stories of such creatures, heard stories of how they flew and scorched the skies with their own flames and their own anger. He knew of the dragon that had lived in the caverns near Ust Natha, but he had never seen it.
The dragon flung its head back. Flame blazed between its teeth, and Solaufein felt the breath lock up in his throat.
"Move," Haer'Dalis snapped, and jolted him. "Keep moving!"
He saw that Minsc and Valygar were already behind the dragon, already sweeping their weapons against the columns of sinew that roped the back of the creature's legs. Minsc's mace drove relentlessly against the side of the dragon's shin, and the other ranger's sword arced in beneath, biting into thick scales.
Solaufein shook himself and cursed his own uselessness. He needed to be doing something, not standing and staring and hoping the creature might not notice him.
Some pale rippling spell spiraled out from Imoen's hands, and when the dragon whirled to face her, Solaufein dived forward. His momentum carried him beneath the creature's claws, and he raked his sword along the underside of the swaying arms. The dragon hissed and spun. Another spell burrowed against its neck, white and crackling. He was aware of Kera on his other side, her sword held low and her face set. The dragon's claws swept against his shoulder, and he tried to twist under them again. The tips caught and dug in. He plunged his sword up and into the softer flesh between the claws. He ripped his sword clear as he fell, and heard the dragon howl.
The tail swung, and Minsc cried out when it knocked him off his feet. Jaheira's spear thumped into the creature's neck, and its jaws cracked together. Solaufein stumbled upright in time to see the fire in its mouth. Kera crashed into him, dragging him along with her, and the flames seared down behind them.
Haer'Dalis slipped past him, blood snaking down one side of his face. "My darkling," he murmured, a little unevenly. "Follow me?"
The dragon turned again, and the great arch of its wings snapped open. Another terrible gout of flame blackened the stone. The tiefling dived beneath the flickering claws, Solaufein a pace behind. He heard Jaheira shouting for more arrows, more spells, for Imoen to stay back.
Haer'Dalis drove his right-hand sword up until the point bit into the dragon's belly. Solaufein grinned and sank his own sword almost hilt-deep in the dark scales. The dragon shrieked and twisted away, and he yanked the sword free and matched the tiefling's hurtling pace. He bolted out into the open in time to see Minsc's mace slam against the back of the dragon's leg again. Bone gave way, and Valygar followed up, slicing his sword across the tendons beneath. The dragon swayed, and flame spilled from its jaws again. He could smell its blood, thick and metallic, and when it shuddered again, Valygar rammed his sword into the back of its other leg.
The dragon toppled, its wings folding in, and its head thrashing. As fast, Minsc was there, and his mace met its neck and then the side of its jaws.
A cold spell shattered across its heaving flanks. The dragon twisted, its claws flinging wide. Kera caught Imoen's arm and yanked her away, and the next spell arrowed too far to one side. Minsc's mace rose and fell and fell again, and Valygar and Jaheira joined him. The dragon's claws carved through the air, and Haer'Dalis ducked beneath them. His swords flicked up, both finding purchase against dense scales. Following him, Solaufein saw how the dragon heaved upright, how the claws tightened and swept down. He called the bard's name. Haer'Dalis whirled, a fraction too slow, and the claws raked across his chest.
The dragon's head lolled against the ground, and when Solaufein looked at it, he saw nothing past shattered teeth and blood, leaking in bright ribbons. Grimly, Valygar set about forcing his blade against the splintered neck bone, sawing the head away.
"Solaufein?"
He turned, and Kera ploughed into him, and her scent was thick with sweat and blood and dust. He wrapped an arm around her waist and let her lean into him.
"I'm alright," he said, roughly. "Are you hurt?"
"No. No, I don't think so." She kissed his chin. She stepped away from him, and her face paled. "Haer'Dalis?"
The bard was on his feet still, and when he sheathed his swords, he winced. His mouth opened, and he touched the spreading crimson patches on his chest. He looked at his dripping fingers and blinked. "Oh," he said. "I think that may be worse than I thought."
"Lie down," Jaheira said, firmly. She steadied him, and waited while he sank carefully onto his knees, and then onto his back. She splayed both hands over the tiefling's chest, and the blue glow of her healing spell sank into him. He hissed, and his eyes opened. "Stay still," she said, and caught his hand. "Stay still."
"Will he be alright?" Imoen asked.
"I think so."
"Then heal him," Kera snapped. "Heal him, and then we'll worry about getting inside."
Jaheira's mouth thinned, but she said nothing. While she called up another spell, and then another, Solaufein stared up at the stone bridges above. Nothing stirred; nothing made a sound beneath the keening wind.
"Anything?" Kera asked.
"No."
Carefully, Jaheira helped the tiefling upright, and he swayed. She caught his elbow and held on. "Alright?"
"Yes," he said, roughly. His face was chalky, and the strange markings that crossed his cheekbones and curled up around his chin seemed too sharp, too dark. "What, no admonishing lecture, my beautiful druid? No rebuke? I am worth so little now in your eyes?"
"You'll need to be careful," she retorted. "Your leathers are not in the best shape, and you've lost blood. There won't be any heroic moments in there, are we agreed?"
"Heroic?" He grinned, and when she let him go, his stance stayed steady. "My dear, there is heroism and there is stupidity, and sometimes, even I get the two confused."
"You?" Kera said, and smiled. "Never. You're sure you're alright?"
"It will take more than the claws of a dragon to send me into the embrace of oblivion, my raven." The tiefling's dark eyes sparkled. "A dragon who is the son of a Bhaalspawn and indeed had the courtesy to tell us his name was Draconis. Well, my raven, never let it be said that your enemies are full of the creative fires when it comes to naming their offspring."
Kera waited while Minsc and Valygar shouldered the door open. Her hair was sticky with sweat, and when she tried to keep still, to keep herself poised, she found that she could not.
I am Abazigal's son, the young man had said.
Abazigal's son, who had been a dragon. She drew in a slow breath and closed her eyes. Bhaal's blood beneath the skin of a dragon, and she wondered what Abazigal might look like. Another dragon, she thought, another dragon who would not be young and careless and taunting. A dragon who might know his own power and his own gifts, and who might tear through them all as easily as a scythe through wheat.
Inside, the shadows clung to the stone, and she stopped. Beside her, Solaufein waited, his head tilted as he listened.
"Nothing," the drow murmured.
The corridor wove deeper, the gloom broken by the gently moving points of hanging oil lamps. Twice, the left-hand side opened out into small rooms, bare and blank. She reached out, touched the wall. Overhead, the stone roof slanted in lower and lower, and her shoulders tightened.
"Kera," Solaufein said, whisper-quiet. "Do you hear that?"
"What?"
"Water."
She halted again and tipped her head to the wall, strained to listen. She thought she heard it, the soft noise of water against rock, somewhere far away.
The corridor stayed deserted until it opened out through an archway, and the clamour and shrieking of the six men who charged to meet them was almost a relief. She twisted past the first of them, and felt the tension melting out of her shoulders and her arms as she sliced her sword under his guard and into his stomach. More waited in the stone chambers beyond, and there were tall, twisting creatures, all plated scales and shimmering eyes and bearing tridents that flared bright with flames. She had seen them before, she was certain, in the tunnels beneath Athkatla, and in the strange realm that Lavok's planar sphere had nestled itself into. After the last of them fell, carved apart by Valygar, she heard it again, the rushing sound of water.
"Maybe there's a river down here," Imoen said. "Or a well? Has to be some way of making sure people don't die of thirst out here."
Kera nodded, and said nothing. Almost thoughtfully, she led through the far door, and when she touched the curving wall there, she found the stone ribboned with water. The air was heavy and dank, and made her think of how the small pond at Candlekeep had turned green and thick and sluggish at the height of the summer.
The passageway plunged down again, and the roof pressed in, low enough that Minsc had to hunch over, and Valygar and Haer'Dalis had to walk almost as carefully. Another archway led to a rounded chamber, and Kera frowned.
"Well," Imoen muttered. "That's not normal."
"No." Warily, she checked the walls again and saw no doors, no windows, no steps. Nothing save the blank curves of the stone, running with water. A pool rippled in the centre of the floor, and the oil lamps above it shot twisting reflections across its surface.
"This doesn't make sense," Imoen said into the silence. "How the hells did Draconis get himself to the doors outside? Did he swim? Fly down from the towers above?"
"There were no other doors," Valygar said. "Not at ground level."
"Well." Haer'Dalis knelt beside the pool. "It seems Abazigal's choice of domain might be less a fortress and more a maze full of water. How charming."
"Alright." Kera sheathed her sword. "I'll go. Jaheira, you'll come with me."
"And me," Imoen said, and added, "Of the two of us, I'm the one who can cast the spells, sister mine."
"If that's what you want."
"Kera," Jaheira said, sternly. "What exactly is this plan? Drop our weapons and dive in there and hope we find our way to something?"
"What else can we do? This room…there's nowhere else to go. What else can we do, Jaheira?"
"You have no spells of your own," the druid said tersely. "Stay here. I'll go with Imoen."
The anger surged, hot and welcome. "No. Abazigal is my brother." Someone grasped her wrist and drew her aside, and she glared into Solaufein's face. "What?"
He guided her across the chamber and away from the others before he let her go. Unruffled, he said, "This is not a good idea."
"What else can we do?" She pushed her knuckles against her eyes. "Can you swim?"
"Yes."
"In that armour?" she demanded, waspishly.
"If I had to."
"Perhaps," she said. "Stay with the others. At worst, we find nothing."
"And at best?"
"We find a way through, and we can work out how to move on from there."
"As you wish it," he said, and his voice was rough. "Kera?"
"Yes?"
He kissed her, desperately, his tongue plying her lips apart and his hands cradling the back of her neck. "Be careful," he said, and captured her mouth again. "I will wait for you."
She almost wanted to bury herself against him, hide her face against his neck until she could feel his pulse against her cheek. But she breathed in again and smelled it, the dampness and the stone, and she knew that Abazigal waited for her. "I will."
She pulled away from him, and pointedly ignored Imoen's smirk. She unbuckled her weapon belt and sword, and handed them across to Solaufein. She waited while Jaheira shed her spear, and Imoen passed her bow and quiver to the bard. Beside the pool, Kera knelt and slipped her hand into the water. It grabbed and pulled at her fingers. "Ready?"
"Ready," Imoen answered.
She let herself look at Solaufein, at the way his hair framed the ebony angles of his face. She dipped her hand in again, breathing in deeply and slowly, readying herself. She hesitated a moment longer, and then she swung herself over the edge and the water rushed into her ears.
Haer'Dalis sat with his legs crossed and silently concluded that, beneath the ruined disgrace that had been his leathers, his chest hurt. The dull, strange ache of pain that was not quite banished, of a mostly-healed wound that would offer proud scars sometime soon. But the druid's spells would be needed again, he was almost certain, and he knew he should not demand a potion, not since he could walk and wield his swords.
He leaned his head back and looked at the others. Looked at how Minsc sat, his tiny hamster companion curled on his palm, and his face creased into a soft smile. On his other side, Valygar paced. The drow crouched on the edge of the pool, poised and predatory, his sword in his hand.
He let the silence a heartbeat or so longer. "Do you see anything, my darkling?"
"No."
"Tell me, Minsc, my friend," Haer'Dalis said cheerfully. "How long is it you have spent watching our ladies throw themselves into dire danger?"
"They are not our ladies," Minsc said, and his finger slipped down the hamster's back, gently stroking. "One of them is Solaufein's lady."
The drow's head came up sharply, but he said nothing.
"Oh, I did not mean it like that, my friend. It simply occurs to me that more sane people would have walked away long ago." Haer'Dalis listened to the sound of the water at the edges of the pool, and his own breathing, a little too laboured.
The strange fog in his thoughts lifted. He recognized the edge of the table, and the faded rug on the floor between his feet. Overhead, there would be the low arch of the roof, and the air all freighted with the tang of spent spells. He was here, and he wondered why.
Miss Raelis, he thought. She had sent him for the gem.
The gem. The wizard's gem.
He remembered the spell, and how it had washed over him. Him, and he had been foolish and arrogant and assumed the wizard to own little strength and less power. But the spell had wrapped his limbs in those strange chains and kept him here, and the days had rolled past uncounted.
"Haer'Dalis?"
A woman's voice, and he did not know her. A young woman, he guessed, from the soft pitch.
"Are you Haer'Dalis?"
"Yes," he managed, with a tongue that felt encased in lead. He blinked again, rapidly, until the greyness vanished. "I am Haer'Dalis." The words were pale and thin and barely worth the effort, but every breath seemed to rake through his lungs, and his hands when he raised them were absurdly heavy. "Who are you?"
"I am Kera," the young woman said. "Do you need to sit down?"
"No," he lied. He looked at her then, saw how young she was, how her girl's frame was encased in leathers, how she held her sword with quiet confidence. She stared up at him with unremarkable brown eyes, and her face was one of angles and sleepless nights and missed meals. "Kera, is it? May I ask why you have had the fortune to stumble across me here?"
Behind the girl's shoulder, a tall, broad-shouldered young man scowled. "We saved you."
"We're here because Raelis Shai asked us to come after you," the girl said, in the same tone.
"Miss Raelis?" He grinned. "Ah, yes. Very good. So, shall I join you as we return? Should I offer my services in thanks for a rescue rendered most timely?"
"Oh, I don't know," the girl said, and her mouth curved into a smile. "I doubt she'd want me to steal you."
"Honour bound and honour branded, is it? Ah, as you would have it."
"We found these swords," the girl said. "Raelis said you carried two, and of strange make. Are these yours?"
His fingers closed around the hilts when she passed them to him. He tested their well-known weight, and smiled. "Yes, these are mine."
He stared at his own hands again, loosely wreathed. Past the drow, he saw the pool, and the rippling dark surface of it. There was little else to do, he knew, so he let his thoughts turn to the new song half-written on the parchment somewhere in his pack, and he waited.