Idal – I had a lot of fun writing the Underdark segments, and I'm glad you enjoyed, too. Hopefully I can keep things entertaining from here on out.
Thanks for reviewing!
OOO
The companions moved quickly through the tunnels, following the faint glow of the luminous figure that led the way. Adalon had transformed herself into an elven maid, silver-haired and with eyes as dark and fathomless as the deepest chasm of the Underdark, accompanying them as both guide and protector, though the distant roars that echoed through the darkened caverns proclaimed that the demon's assault upon Ust Natha had continued.
Three times, the group had encountered refugees in flight from the city. Twice, the drow had turned aside, electing to leave the fugitives to their own devices in favor of putting more distance between themselves and the slaughter behind them. The third group had included some warriors in their number, but they had no sooner raised their weapons and shouted a challenge in a language no longer understandable than the faint light that radiated from Adalon flared into the brightness of the noon sun; moments later, the blades of the surfacers had brought swift and merciless death to the blinded drow.
Glancing back over her shoulder now at the ragtag line of freed slaves that followed them, Imoen stumbled over a rock. Immediately, Jess' hand was grasping her arm, bearing her up.
"Careful, little sister," she cautioned, her smile barely visible in the dim light that guided them, her eyes in constant motion, trying to pierce the gloom that surrounded them to spot the next threat.
"I'm always careful," Imoen replied, her standard response to Jessime's familiar warning, but she was unable to summon the saucy grin that had always accompanied her words before. Jess chuckled, but her hand remained in place for a moment longer, ensuring that Imoen was indeed steady on her feet. The fact that Jess felt that she needed such care was not half as frustrating as the knowledge that she probably did.
Independence had always been as much a part of Imoen's nature as the curiosity that had prompted her from an early age to find out what the person standing next to her kept in their belt pouch. The paternal relationship that Gorion had hoped would develop when he had placed her in the care of Winthrop had instead settled into that of impatient employer and impertinent employee. The only person that she had ever allowed herself to depend upon had been Jessime, but that had been all right, because she had known that Jess depended on her just as much.
Irenicus had changed all that.
He had invaded her mind, stolen her will and twisted her thoughts until she no longer knew which were her own and which were of his creation. She had been helpless, and Irenicus had used that to lure Jess into a trap, to steal her soul and leave her at the mercy of the taint that raged in her blood. Jess would never have come to Spellhold if it had not been for Imoen, never have lost control if she had not been deceived into believing that Imoen had killed the rest of her companions.
My fault, Imoen thought miserably as she resumed her pace at Jessime's side. Then: Stop it.
With the cacophony of sounds and images that had assaulted her mind with ever increasing vigor since her rescue now stilled, it was easier to identify the sly influence of the taint of Bhaal within her. Before, it had woven itself easily into the blood-soaked, scream-filled memories of her time with Irenicus, memories that had seemed to echo endlessly within the confines of her skull, growing stronger, rather than fading with time. The memories remained, but they lacked their former strength; the feel of the taint itself was muted, robbed of its hypnotic power by the blessed silence in her mind, a silence that she had almost forgotten was possible.
You were helpless then, but you're not now, she told herself sternly. Adalon chained the taint, fixed what Irenicus did. You can fight it now, just like Jess does, so don't let it lie to you.
They entered a tunnel that sloped steadily upward, and after several minutes, Adalon stopped.
"The drow appear to have abandoned their posts," she informed them with a cold smile, "but remain wary. Warriors of Suldanesselar guard the surface, and they will not look kindly on the inclusion of drow in your number." Her eyes slid over Viconia and Solaufein. Viconia raised her chin, glaring defiantly at the transformed dragon, but the warrior-mage merely returned her gaze, his eyes thoughtful.
"I thank you for the warning, and for the assistance," Jess replied courteously, sheathing the Flameblades. "Weapons away, everyone. Let's make it obvious that we're not looking for a fight."
"And if we find a fight, nonetheless, abbil?" Viconia inquired skeptically. "I have no wish to stroll unarmed to my death." Imoen noticed, however, that she was returning the twin maces that she had stripped from their dead opponents to the harness at her waist as she spoke.
Jess flashed her a grin. "You telling me that you can't get your weapons out faster than any surface elf?"
"There is that," the cleric admitted with a wicked grin of her own.
Adalon observed the exchange impassively. "I will return to my eggs now," she announced. "I suspect that the demon will soon tire of his sport in Ust Natha, and I would not have him seek out my lair in my absence. Luck be with you, godchild." Turning, she vanished into the darkness with preternatural speed.
"Not one for lengthy goodbyes, is she?" Jess murmured sardonically, glancing up the tunnel as she lit a torch to replace the light that had departed with Adalon. "All right, everyone stay close; Viconia and Solaufein in the middle of the group."
They had gone no more than a few hundred yards when a voice spoke up from the darkness ahead of them.
"Halt!" A group of elven warriors, looking to have recently seen battle, emerged from the gloom. Their leader examined Jess warily, keeping his sword ready. "You are no drow; what was your business in their realms?"
"My name is Jessime of Candlekeep," Jess replied calmly. "My companions and I are in pursuit of the mage, Irenicus. We also have a number of captives rescued from the slave cages of Ust Natha."
A surprised murmur rose from the group at Irenicus' name, intensifying at the mention of Ust Natha. The elvish commander peered down their line, tensing visibly as he caught sight of Solaufein and Viconia. "Drow!" he hissed.
Jess stepped in front of him. "They are my allies, and are under my protection," she told him flatly. He glared at her in renewed suspicion, then shrugged.
"If you know of Irenicus, then Elhan will wish to speak with you immediately," he said. "Your true relationship with the fiend and his drow allies will be determined then. Follow me."
At his signal, the remainder of the warriors moved to encircle the group, weapons held at the ready. Jess watched the commander striding back up the tunnel. "I guess that was a command, not an invitation," she remarked, eyeing their escort with a jaundiced expression.
"You guess correctly," Jaheira replied as they began moving again. "And please remember that these are potential allies against Irenicus."
"I know that." Jess looked slightly wounded. "I understand that they have to take precautions since we're coming up from the Underdark; I thought I was doing pretty good, but I wasn't going to let them kill Solaufein and Viconia."
"She would have allowed it willingly, abbil," Viconia interjected, eying the druid with cool contempt. "And where is your cringing dog of a husband, mongrel? Did he finally tire of your homely face, or was it your sharp tongue that drove him away?"
Imoen heard Jaheira's sharp intake of breath and tensed, certain that a fight was inevitable, but Jess interposed herself between the two women, bringing their forward progress to a halt. "He's dead, Viconia," she said in a low voice. "Irenicus killed him."
"The mad wizard?" Viconia's eyes widened, and she was silent for a long moment. "I am sorry," she said quietly to Jaheira. "I did not know. He was not deserving of such a fate."
"Do not defile his memory by speaking of him further, drow," Jaheira said tightly, her face a mask of reawakened grief.
Viconia accepted the rebuke with uncharacteristic meekness, returning to her position further back in the group without comment. Jess eyed her curiously, then turned to the druid with a worried expression. "Jaheira –"
"Keep moving!" the elvish commander barked, turning to glare at them.
Jess returned his glare and seemed on the verge of a heated reply, but Jaheira placed a restraining hand on her arm. "No," she said softly. "We should continue; I am more than ready to leave this foul darkness and breathe fresh air again."
Jess nodded and again took the lead; moments later, the first hint of a breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the scent of blood. The floor of the tunnel was littered with bodies, both elf and drow, that looked to have been recently killed. Elves moved among the carnage, bearing the bodies of their slain comrades back to the surface, looting the bodies of the drow and piling them to one side to clear the tunnel. Imoen could hear gagging and cries of disgust from the freed slaves as they slipped on the blood that congealed in great pools on the ground, but Jess seemed completely indifferent, her attention on the tunnel ahead of them. Imoen swallowed hard, her heart hammering; the sight and sound of blood was something she had become all too familiar with in recent weeks, but as she walked resolutely forward, she realized that the memories, while still present, did not have the same inescapable intensity that they had possessed only the day before. Thank you, Adalon, she thought gratefully.
"You all right, Im?" Jess asked, looking back at her.
Imoen nodded. "Yeah," she answered, managing a smile. "Thought all this might start things up again, but everything seems okay."
"Good." Jess glanced down the line, where one of the slaves had fallen to his knees, retching. "Still a good idea not to look directly at it," she added quietly. "The taint feeds on it; it's better not to give it any opening."
Imoen stared at her sister as she turned her attention back to the path ahead. Jess' apparent indifference, she realized suddenly, was simply another way of denying the taint in her blood any greater hold upon her, not giving it the sensations that it thrived on. She's still fighting it, and you can, too, she told herself again, more confident now. You're not helpless anymore…and you're not alone.
They moved past the site of the battle and the air cleared, the breeze undeniably stronger and carrying with it the scent of grass and trees. Imoen breathed deeply, savoring the smells that she had taken for granted all her life. How long had it been? First Irenicus' dungeon, then Spellhold and the Underdark. Weeks, certainly…maybe months. Would she ever find out exactly how much of her life had been stolen from her, and did she really want to know? Right now, all that mattered was each lungful of fresh air, rich with the odors of nature, and the stars that twinkled at the mouth of the tunnel, more becoming visible with each step.
"Silvanus be praised," Jaheira murmured fervently as they emerged at last from the tunnel, raising her face to the night sky and breathing deeply.
"Wait here," the commander ordered curtly. "I will inform Elhan of your presence."
Jess watched as he left, then glanced at the warriors who remained positioned around them. "I get the feeling that he doesn't trust us," she remarked to no one in particular before turning to Solaufein, who was staring in wonder at the crescent moon in the sky overhead. "Is she as you imagined she would be?"
"Aye," the drow nodded slowly, tearing his gaze from the moon with obvious reluctance. "Drow raids on the surface take place on overcast or moonless nights." His expression grew suddenly melancholy, and he turned away from them.
Jess watched him, her expression compassionate, and seemed ready to speak when an elf in resplendent armor approached.
"Greetings and welcome," he said. "Yes…welcome," he added as Jess' eyebrows rose perceptibly, "though I trust you as little as you likely trust me at this point."
"If your enemy is Irenicus…and Bodhi, we have common cause," Jess replied.
"And the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" the elf replied with a slight smile. "Sadly, that is not necessarily true. You mention some very interesting names, names you could not know unless you were enemies of our enemies…or their friends. I am undecided. Elhan will see to you. He will make sure you are comfortable, and that you reveal what you must of yourself. He is experienced and…and he has knowledge of the enemy. I am General Sovalidaas, and I am to take you to Elhan." He held up a restraining order as most of the companions started forward. "No more than two of your number." He glanced at Jessime. "I assume that would be you and one other."
"Jaheira," Jess said immediately, turning to the druid, who nodded and stepped to her side.
Sovalidaas bowed courteously, though his faintly disdainful expression betrayed the contempt that many full blood elves felt for half elves. "The rest of you are to remain here, and I strongly suggest that you cause no trouble. Regardless of your intent, if you attack any elves here, you will be killed on the spot."
"Could some food and water be arranged, then?" Jess requested, visibly restraining her irritation. "We have brought several slaves freed from Ust Natha to the surface with us, and they have been on short rations for some time."
"Of course," Sovalidaas replied. "I apologize for not having done so already. I will see to it personally as soon as I have taken you to Elhan."
"Bloody arrogant elf," a dwarf grumbled after they had left. "Quite the rescue this has been. Out of one captivity and into another."
"If you find your rescue so distasteful, then return to Ust Natha, auflaque," Viconia sneered at him. "I am certain that you would find your old kennel ready to receive you." The dwarf glared sullenly at her, but said nothing.
Imoen smiled. Viconia could be difficult, but traveling with her had sure kept things interesting. She glanced at Solaufein curiously. The warrior mage's personality was drastically different from that of the cleric of Shar. Was it because he was male or because he worshiped Eilistraee? His expression remained distant and melancholy, and he did not seem aware of her approach at first. "Not looking at the moon any more?"
He glanced at her, then shook his head. "I was remembering a time that I came to the surface," he replied quietly. "Phaere was with me. I used the excuse of wanting to see where the surface army had camped, but I hoped to see the face of the Dark Maiden, for Phaere to see her. I had almost gathered the courage to tell her my secret, hoping that she too could be won over to the service of Eilistraee. Clouds foiled my plans that night, though, and Phaere was taken by the Handmaidens only days later."
He sighed. "When they had finished with her, I was certain that they had destroyed all traces of the woman that I loved, but what Jessime told me…" He shook his head, hair as silver as the moon flowing over his shoulders. Imoen had seen them talking briefly, in Adalon's cave; evidently Jess had told the drow of Phaere's death…and of her behavior in her final days. "It seems that I must now live with the knowledge that my actions played a part in placing her forever beyond redemption."
"You're not mad at Jess, are you?" Imoen asked him worriedly. "She didn't want to do what she did, but she didn't have a choice."
He shook his head. "No, I do not blame your sister," he assured her. "Some small part of Phaere may have remained as she was, but the greater part was dedicated to the pursuit of power, ruled by ambition. Her death was the result of her own choices, but I will always wonder what would have happened if there had been no clouds that night."
"Bah!" Viconia snapped, glaring at the male in contempt. "You would have returned to Ust Natha, and she still would have been taken by the Handmaidens, but she would have betrayed you before she had spent an hour under their tender care. You would have been sacrificed, and your lover would have willingly wielded the knife as you were bent backward on the altar. Mourn all you like in the silences of your foolish mind, jaluk, but spare the rest of us your maudlin musings. All love is foolish."
Turning, she sauntered away, her hips swaying in a seductive rhythm that seemed as instinctive to her as breathing. Male eyes followed her appreciatively, Yoshimo's included, but Solaufein was unmoved.
"I must wonder at the wisdom of rescuing that one," he growled. "Shar is little better than Lolth, and her arrogance would not be out of place among the Handmaidens themselves. She is likely right about the way events would have unfolded, however," he admitted. "Perhaps it would have been better that way." He lapsed again into silent contemplation of the moon, drawing solitude around himself like a cloak. Imoen watched him for a moment longer, then turned to meet the elves who arrived bearing baskets of food and flasks of water.
"I don't think those two are going to get along," Aerie observed with a wry smile as she moved to assist Imoen in distributing the meal to the freed slaves.
"No," Imoen agreed, returning the smile. "Ought to make for some interesting conversations, though." The prospect wasn't nearly as appealing as it had once been, however; glancing anxiously in the direction that Jess and Jaheira had gone, she wondered how the meeting with Elhan was going.