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And, since a few of you who reviewed seemed concerned that I might not finish this - I promise I most certainly will! ^^
Chapter 50: Weaving a Web Part 2
Few things were more frustrating than prey that would neither flee for the chase nor lie down and die. Bodhi cursed, pushing herself back from the table sharply and standing as her chair screeched across the cold stone floor. Her brother turned to her with only a faint lift of the eyebrows, though his eyes hardened when she cursed again.
"He resists," Joneleth stated, and Bodhi sent him a frustrated glare.
"I can barely glimpse his thoughts, even after tasting his blood!" She wanted to rip out the Red Wizard's throat and drain him dry but that would hardly help matters. Apart from perhaps her mood. "And even those are just…shadows upon shadows."
"He succumbed to the memories," Irenicus promised, reaching for his cloak without so much as a sigh. "Clearly it is all we will get from him – for now. There is still time."
Bodhi ground her teeth, watching him stride across the chamber from his writing stand, pulling up his hood as he went. He held the door for her, looking back with a patient manner that must surely have hidden his own irritation. Blowing out a long, unnecessary breath, Bodhi forced her hands to unfurl, smoothing the layered diaphanous fabrics of her drow dress before crossing towards her brother from the long table. It had been just two days since they had Edwin sitting there, promising to tell them everything!
Irenicus caught her shoulder as she was about to pass through the door and she tensed, every instinct begging her to lunge at him, too.
"Do not be rash, sister. He will serve as our bait all the same, when the time comes. Surely you do not truly need his help to overcome two soulless Bhaalspawn and their lackeys, should they ever come looking for us?" His tone was stern, his words painfully correct. Bodhi nodded stiffly, though the idea of such dull, measured persistence did nothing to brighten her mood.
Still, they had a meeting with the Matron and her daughter; perhaps the wizard would remember his place when faced with such power. Perhaps he would learn to truly fear, as he should, after they explained their plan. Indeed, he was waiting for them by the stairs just as expected, his skin pallid and clammy and his collar pulled up high to hide the delicious wound she had left in his throat. He was clutching the bannister, though he tried to hide it, his tall frame bowed just a little, and his eyes widened subliminally when he saw the siblings coming his way.
"Feeling unwell, Edwin?" Bodhi drawled, smiling when his face tensed even more and he looked away sharply. "No sneering words? No glares today? Whatever could be the matter?"
"Sister," Irenicus snapped over her shoulder, moving past them both for the narrow, winding stairs, "We haven't the time for this."
"Of course, brother," Bodhi pretended to simper, sparing a mutinous glare for his back before pushing at Edwin for the wizard to follow. "Come along, pet of mine. We've a meeting with the matron who would have your head."
The Red Wizard did not speak, his lips pressing together as if he were holding back his words, and he did as she bade him, trying needlessly hard to hide the wobble in his step as they descended. Bodhi took some comfort in this; it did feel like the beginning of a victory after all. Whatever you are hiding, Conjurer, I will tear it from you – whether by words or spell, coercion or blackmail or torture. From the way his arms tensed, it looked as if he had heard her. That was an improvement.
Well, there would be chances enough for all of those things soon – but for the time being their focus had to remain upon Matron Ardulace and her city. And ever eager, she was waiting in her throne room with Phaere by her side when Bodhi arrived with Irenicus and Edwin. Ardulace greeted them cordially enough, her voice caught in that eternal sneer like all the drow in this place. She was not pretending to trust them – the room was lined with guards, and Phaere's male lackey, Solaufein, sulked a few paces back as Bodhi approached, waving for Edwin to stay a respectful distance away by the door to the stairs. And for once the Red Wizard did not even think to argue.
"You have arrived just on time, Irenicus," Ardulace was saying, toying with the handle of her whip as she glanced at her daughter. The matron was dressed in plain black mithral today, the snake heads of her whip coiled around her booted leg. Phaere just smirked back at her, but her red eyes were hard. "Ust Natha's archmage just brought some…interesting news."
"I take it that you have the ingredients you will need for the summoning then, mistress?" Irenicus asked, so painfully deferential. Bodhi could not stop the look of confusion that must have shown plainly upon her face – how had he not told her of this? Beside Ardulace, Phaere caught her eye.
"Meet me in my room once Mother has said her piece. I have something to show you," the eldest daughter of House Despana signed quickly. Meanwhile, Matron Ardulace was grinning in a way that proved whatever plan she was about to explain was one of extravagant malevolence.
"He brought to us all of the ingredients that he could, yes," she nodded slyly, "But there are some things which we will need that we do not yet possess."
"Pray tell, mistress," Irenicus prompted. Bodhi fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ardulace held his stare with supreme confidence, leaning forward for effect as she spoke.
"Six dragon's eggs. An offering for the demon."
"Of course," Irenicus shrugged. "Do you have a target in mind?"
"A silver dragon, long a friend of the sun elves, who lives in the cliff face overlooking the sea not far from here. My scouts told me some forty days ago that she had walled her cave in while she laid and incubated her eggs. They should be the perfect size by now."
"Good. A good choice, mistress," Irenicus agreed smoothly. He folded his arms, affecting concern. "My sister and I are busy with the preparations for the assault on Suldanessellar. But perhaps I can spare a day to…"
"No need!" Ardulace seemed positively gleeful, turning fully to her daughter now and gesturing at Solaufein. "My daughter's manservant and his mercenary lackeys can take care of this, I am sure."
The tension that showed between the three drow was palpable, so clear that Bodhi had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. Ardulace's smirk was brittle and Phaere's glare was fierce. Solaufein's frown was deep and hateful. But all the matron's daughter said was:
"Of course, Mother. They will have them for you within days." And Solaufein gave a low and insincere bow.
With this settled, Matron Ardulace rose from her throne and stepped down towards Irenicus, barely sparing a look Bodhi's way before calling him off with her to discuss battle plans and whatever summoning it was that they intended. Most of the guards went with them, and Bodhi watched it all with a disbelieving sneer. It was not long before only she, Phaere, Solaufein and Edwin remained.
"Your mother is very sure of your loyalty," Bodhi fairly yawned as Phaere approached.
"She is a fool," the drow agreed, brushing the vampire's shoulder with her gloved hand and nodding towards the stairs. "And she will learn her lesson. Come, I've something to show you that might make you feel better."
"Was it that obvious?" Bodhi asked, and received only a faint smile from the drow priestess before they set out for Phaere's room. She sent Edwin away, bored of his vacancy, but Solaufein followed them at his mistress's snarled command.
The Despana quarters were situated in an entirely different wing from those allocated to Bodhi and her brother. Here the corridors were taller and broader, silver layers of elaborate decoration heated from behind so that the whole place glowed dramatically in the human spectrum and infravision. It shimmered delicately to Bodhi's darkvision, much like Phaere's mithral tunic.
The drow priestess's room stood at the far end of the top floor, warded by a door aglow with powerful magic and held shut with several keys. Within, it was spacious and circular with a long window curving across one half of the chamber, overlooking the complex web of the city. A tall bed stood upon a warded platform across a sea of thick spider-patterned carpet, and Phaere went straight to a locked armoire at its foot, speaking a command to open it. A flash of light accompanied the word and the hinges of the lid turned smoothly under their own power.
Solaufein had moved to the window and was looking through the enchanted glass with his arms behind his back, entirely unmoved by this implied mutiny. He was a good liar, and a terrible bore. Bodhi turned from him readily, an intrigued smile rising to her face as Phaere moved to the long table at the centre of the room, placing a heavy cloth-wrapped oblong upon the polished surface and waving Bodhi over with a smug expression.
"Here is matron Ardulace's downfall," Phaere promised, unfurled the cloth to reveal a smooth, silver egg. It was as large as a person's head and probably at least as heavy; Bodhi could see her own face staring back at her as she leaned over to inspect the reflective surface. Had she needed to breathe, her breath might have caught. As it was, she gave in to a delighted laugh, looking up into Phaere's eyes. The priestess was smirking at her, so proud of herself.
"A dragon's egg?" Bodhi breathed.
"A fake dragon's egg," Phaere corrected firmly. "And I have five more where this came from." her face turned hard as she looked to Solaufein's back. "You, male – you and the mercenaries will acquire the true eggs for me." She met Bodhi's delighted eyes with a determined look of her own. "And these will then be passed on to Matron Ardulace. When the time comes to summon the demon who will bolster our forces, she will give him the fakes and he will end her. I will be there to offer the true eggs…and to claim House Despana."
Phaere had been rather brief with Elatharia and Viconia when they went to take the charred remains of the svirfneblin to her. Imoen had barely noticed her sister's absence before she returned with the welcome news that their mistress had permitted them a day's rest. She had also finally handed over the pay they were due as mercenaries; Viconia promptly left with Haer'Dalis to acquire some provisions and a spare tunic for the tiefling, whose original drow clothing had been torn up after his assault.
Valygar and Jaheira were more than a little brooding, preferring to have Imoen by their side without wanting to extend themselves into a conversation with her. The ranger was clearly a man of few words; Jaheira just did not seem to know how to talk to her anymore. Meanwhile, Elatharia had shut herself off in her room with her spellbook and a pile of scrolls – none of which Imoen recognised. She had been unresponsive to conversation as a result, but at least Imoen's sister did not look at her as if she were a ghost.
So Imoen had been watching the city, aided by a few Longsight spells, and it had soon become evident that a change was coming. When the market was cleared away for the evening, the area began to bustle with soldiers and their tents. Gradually the whole cavern floor filled with them, and when Imoen had gone to Viconia the Sharan priestess had told her grimly that this was Matron Ardulace's army preparing to leave for war, no doubt beginning with Mag in Chatha.
The group had eaten together, in tired silence, and all retired to bed early. The darkness continued to confuse Imoen; even in Spellhold the lights had gone out at night and not the other way around. Even with Darkvision it was hard not to feel the fuzzy weight of the gloom all around them, the prolonged lack of light telling every surfacer instinct that it was time to be in asleep.
"Don't you think we could go out for a walk or something before bed, Elatharia?" Imoen was wheedling as they ascended the stairs to their room, their companions no doubt intending to follow shortly afterward. "We've been cooped up in here all day n' I don't think I could sleep without even a little bit of exercise!"
They rounded the curve in the stairway, and Elatharia's response caught in her throat as the landing came into view. Solaufein had been waiting for them on the bench by their door, but as they now approached him with wary silence he stood sharply, his expression grave…and more earnest than Imoen had seen from any of the other drow in this place.
"What do you want?" Elatharia demanded, her next words following with wary slowness, "Why do I get the feeling this isn't official business from Phaere?"
"It isn't," Solaufein agreed, his eyes straying to Imoen. "But I am here with information that you may find useful. Whatever your motivation, what I have to say may help us all."
"Alright," Elatharia folded her arms, stopping before him as if she expected him to speak right there on the landing where anyone could overhear. "But why should I let you into my room without proof that you aren't here to do us harm?"
Solaufein seemed to fight off a habitual glare at that, hesitating as if he had intended to argue. Viconia and the others were just coming up the stairs behind Imoen now and he watched them closely as they formed up behind Elatharia. After a moment he reached for the buckle of his swordbelt, undoing it.
"I am still armed, but take this as a gesture of my honesty," he grunted, sidestepping past the Transmuter and offering the swordbelt to Imoen. Surprised, she took it in silence. The blades were startlingly light. "And in case you had forgotten, wizardess…I am one against six."
"That is as it should be, I think," Elatharia disagreed, but did unlock the door, holding it as they all trooped inside. There was only one chair within, along with the two beds, but no one made a move to sit.
"You have some information for us, male?" Viconia asked, and Solaufein nodded, diving into his explanation without any preamble.
"Phaere and Ardulace intend to summon a demon to bolster the city's army. For this they will need six of a dragon's eggs…"
"…And they intend to use those of the silver dragon close by," Viconia finished in immediate understanding. Solaufein grimaced and nodded – and Imoen's heart jolted at the thought. For a moment the feeling dizzied her – every instinct promised her that such a thing was wrong, but the void in her heart failed to explain it. No soul.
"Yes. But Phaere intends for you to bring the eggs to her, and for you to then take some false eggs to her mother. I saw the fakes not long ago, locked safely away in her room at House Despana."
"She intends for the demon to kill Ardulace," Elatharia nodded thoughtfully. She shrugged. "It sounds like she's doing the city a favour."
"We can't just go and take some eggs from a silver dragon!" Imoen exclaimed, widening her eyes when her sister looked at her quizzically. "I wouldn't do that to any dragon!"
"Dragon's eggs are accepted magical components," Elatharia reminded her mildly. "We've killed dragons before. What difference will this make?"
"This would make no improvement upon the Balance," Jaheira pointed out, "The other dragons we killed were all responsible for disrupting the natural order. Killing this one would only make things worse."
Solaufein looked at the disguised druid with some significant confusion but nodded slowly all the same.
"I am here to suggest a better way…"
"Fake eggs for both of them, not just Ardulace!" Imoen blurted. Solaufein's face actually softened at that – it looked for a moment as if he might smile. "I can break into Phaere's…wherever she's keepin' the fake eggs and bring them to E…to Veldrin. You can make another set of fakes, right?"
Elatharia looked sceptical, but agreed. Behind her, Viconia and Haer'Dalis wore expressions of relief and intrigue respectively – it was Jaheira who stepped up to argue.
"That sounds like a death wish," she snapped, "Send Solaufein. He must be able to break through on his own."
"Not so, mistress…Sziithra," the drow warrior sighed, sparing her his most begrudging look. "Or else I would have done so already. The guards will only let Phaere herself pass. But I do know the pass phrases required to get you in," he added. Imoen forced herself to grin…because that was what it felt like she would have done. Before…
"It'll be just like old times!" the aasimar promised her sister, who rolled her eyes. Except for the torture n' all.
"I can transmute you to look like her," Elatharia said at last, though Jaheira looked ready to forcibly stop Imoen. "But I can't guarantee they wouldn't see past it."
"They fear her too much to question her," Solaufein promised. "She will be with her mother amongst the troops at the moment, but the guards would never think it strange for her to return briefly."
"What if this gets out?" Valygar asked, but the drow was already shaking his head.
"Ched Nasad must be stranger than I had thought. No guard here would ever think to question their mistress."
"Not something mercenaries know much about, sadly," Viconia offered, glaring at Jaheira and Valygar. "Your sister is right, Veldrin," she told Elatharia, "This is the best way. We may have to see the dragon – Adalon – but we will not need to take her eggs. She may even be pleased to hear that we have rendered her aid."
"We could persuade her to fight against the Matron's army," Imoen suggested. Solaufein's eyes widened, but he looked more impressed than horrified.
"If we aren't taking the eggs, that is the only reason I'd have for seeking out a dragon at this time," Elatharia agreed, refusing to meet her sister's eyes when the aasimar attempted to send her a reproachful look.
"We should set out soon," Solaufein put in, looking at all of them as if he had no idea what to make of them. "We do not have long before Phaere could come back."
"Alright," Imoen nodded forcefully, squaring her shoulders. "Cast it, sis. I'm ready."
Transmutations could be so much more disconcerting than Illusions. Where the latter simply changed the subject's appearance to the outside world, the former physically altered everything where necessary. And unlike the spell that Elatharia had favoured for their group, this one had shifted Imoen into a significantly different form. Phaere was smaller but broader and more muscular than the aasimar, and consequently a great deal heavier. After a brief moment or two of staggering from foot to foot, Imoen had been forced to cast a Strength spell upon herself just to look comfortable in her new body.
Even more problematic was the wide scar that dominated one half of Phaere's face; it entirely disrupted Imoen's natural expressions and left her feeling blank and stiff. The drow's long braid of white hair was distracting to boot – the aasimar had always preferred to avoid such length in favour for manoeuvrability. And of course her eyes had entirely refused the necessary alteration to Phaere's infravision-red. The problem had been averted by Elatharia's mask, tied blindfold-style around her head. It leant her darkvision all the same and thus did nothing to impede her sight, transmuted into the necessary red eyes. It felt wrong, though. Even if no one else could see it, she could feel the strip of cloth covering her eyes.
"You sure she was wearing this when she left?" Imoen hissed to Solaufein as they reconvened outside House Despana. He had made the journey separately from her before the Transmutation had been completed and now took in her changed appearance with some evident disquiet as she lowered her hood. With any luck no one had followed her from the tavern.
"I am certain," Solaufein promised, bowing pointedly just as he would to the real Phaere. Beneath her cloak – which only looked like a noble's inky black piwafwi – her leathers had been transmuted to appear as Phaere's black chain shirt and dark leggings. The ridged boots were pointed at the ends, and more than a little uncomfortable. Solaufein took all of this in as he straightened, his brow furrowing. "Your sister has a remarkable eye for detail. Had you not first addressed me, I would have assumed you were my mistress."
Imoen shifted awkwardly, looking about herself and seeing that there were no drow upon the walkway. The whole city seemed deserted up here – everyone was gathering upon the cavern floor from the noble houses and the temples. Solaufein had chosen the perfect time for the most dangerous heist of her life.
"And you're sure we couldn't just climb in through a window? I'm not sure I can outrun anyone in these boots."
"Can you not banish the Transmutation yourself? You have some wizarding skill, do you not?"
Imoen had to hold back a cringe at that. Some wizarding skill. Ha! And of course she could not take away Elatharia's Transmutation! Beneath it she was a pink-haired aasimar in torn drow leathers with an enchanted strip of black cloth across her eyes! But she just shook her head in the face of Solaufein's innocence.
"No. Too difficult." Easy as pie…but dangerous as all the Hells combined.
Solaufein just acceded her lie with a half-nod and turned for the waiting gates of House Despana. As he had forewarned her, the doors began to grind open as soon as Imoen approached and she stepped through ahead of her drow companion the moment there was space to do so. Once within, she was immediately aware of the vast and elaborately alien drow architecture of Matron Despana's throne room – and of the four guards hauling the doors open. Across the room there was a tall archway, guarded by a further two drow males. There were other less showy doorways beyond the pillars lining the room, but none of these would get her to where she needed to be.
It took every ounce of concentration to remember and fulfil the instructions Solaufein had given her. Keep your face hard and your eyes up – do not look around at any of the decoration. Never address the guards. Expect them to step aside for you and do not hesitate on your course. If any females cross your path, ignore them. If they confront you, promise them pain for asking.
Her legs carried her steadily across the hall, though Imoen felt certain they ought to have been wobbling as if she were at sea. She was halfway across before she realised she had been holding her breath. It shook a little as she released it, but no one was looking directly at her. The guards ahead did not question her, just as Solaufein had promised, uncrossing their halberds and letting her past without a second glance.
Only once the silver-tiled corridor ahead had curved beyond the sight of the guards did Solaufein move ahead of Imoen. He led her through the eerily quiet pathways of House Despana at an anxious speed and it was all she could do not to trip in her transmuted boots. By the time they ascended the last tall but languidly curving staircase, Imoen's head was reeling from the sheer scale of the unfamiliar palace.
Imoen's heart fairly stopped when Solaufein did, and only her momentum carried her a step or two past him into the corridor ahead – along which approached a tall and heavily armoured drow priestess. She had already made eye contact, contrary to Solaufein's instructions, and the unknown female's face hardened suspiciously. The aasimar's hand went to the dagger on her hip. Apparently Phaere did not often travel with a snake whip, unlike this priestess – who eyed the wary move with a sneer, pausing as she reached Imoen's tense side. The imposter forced herself to glare back rather than turn and flee.
"Really, sister. Must you always be so paranoid?" the priestess scoffed, surveying Solaufein behind her with distaste. "Just as long as he is here as your slave and not your…ally. Mother would not be happy to learn otherwise."
"Of course, sister," Imoen gritted out, the catch in her voice in truth thanks to the fear constricting her throat. Her heart felt fit to pound straight from her chest. "I do not need you to tell me that." Except she did.
But the priestess seemed satisfied, huffing a laugh and shaking her head scornfully before passing by. The moment she had descended the stairs behind them, Imoen's shoulders sagged with relief and Solaufein rushed past her for the door at the far end of the corridor. His hands were steady as he swiftly undid the numerous locks, pushing the portal open with a flaring of undone wards. He gestured sharply for her to enter.
"We should take one and leave quickly," Solaufein snapped as he closed the door behind them. He crossed the room himself when Imoen hesitated, spitting out the command phrase which opened the chest containing the eggs. Hefting one, he brought it back to her, holding it out while she opened Elatharia's bag of holding for him to drop it inside.
"Never thought it would be so smooth…and shiny," Imoen admitted, blinking down at the bag of holding which had so readily shrunk back to its usual size, no larger than one of her fists. But there was no time to think on it further; Solaufein was already opening the door and urging her outside. And they would have to come back soon to return the fake egg before Phaere could precede them.
With Elatharia's mask elsewhere, it was Viconia who answered the urgent knocking at the room the sisters shared. She hesitated when she saw Phaere standing before her expectantly; the others gathered in the room prickled as well, until the imposter spoke.
"Heya, it's just me – Imoen," the disguised aasimar promised far too concernedly to be any true drow. Viconia stepped inside, and the aasimar banished the Transmutation with a Dispel the moment the door closed behind her.
"I could not assume, abbil," Viconia reminded, smirking faintly while Imoen fumbled with the mask tied around her eyes, handing it over to Elatharia – who was quick to cover her markings. Viconia and Haer'Dalis had been unbothered by the truth of her face, but Jaheira and Valygar had kept their eyes averted from her even more than usual.
"Gotta hurry I'm afraid," Imoen was saying, reaching into the borrowed bag of holding and pulling forth the heavy silver egg with some struggle, dropping it onto the bed by her sister. "Solaufein's waitin' downstairs and we need to get this back to Phaere's room."
Elatharia nodded thoughtfully, inspecting the large egg before her while the others gathered round to look. It fit the descriptions she had read in the past, but she had certainly never seen its like before in reality. Dragons normally kept themselves removed from detection or interruption whilst incubating their eggs, no matter how long it took.
"Such beauteous things do not deserve to be cast away into the Abyss," Haer'Dalis marvelled, though he thought better about touching it when Elatharia gave him a warning look. "You and your friend have done the right thing here, Imoen. Though it be a dangerous plan." He did not appear to be concerned, however.
"Beauty is not the way to judge the rightness of their actions," Jaheira disagreed, predictably.
Elatharia ignored the further comments of her friends, reaching for the bag of holding that Imoen had left by her elbow and willing one of the gems held within to come to her hand. It was a moonstone, small and oval, shimmering silver-white.
"Tell me that you do not intend to use our wealth, khal'abbil," Viconia complained.
"If you can think of anything cheaper that better resembles a silver egg, let me know," Elatharia grunted. When silence reigned, she waved her companions away. "Now I need quiet. Or else Phaere will realise what Imoen's done before we can get this back to her room."
They obliged with some muttering, Jaheira and Valygar leaving to watch the tavern below. Haer'Dalis and Imoen lingered, perched at the edges of the bed upon which Elatharia sat cross-legged, and Viconia hovered by the door with her hand on her flail handle. It was a good enough reminder that time was short, and it took only a few measured breaths before the Transmuter could begin to pluck at the strands of the Weave that she needed. As with many Alteration spells, there was no incantation; there was too much possible variation within this most archaic discipline of the field. Whispering some set magical phrases to herself, her fingers flew through the required patterns, pulling at the necessary energies and moulding the moonstone into its new shape.
When she opened her eyes again, it was to the amazed faces of Imoen and Haer'Dalis. Even Viconia was staring across to the two identical – and identically fake – dragon's eggs. The light filtering through the open window was a little brighter as well, and that meant at least an hour must have passed.
"Ready?" Imoen asked, springing from the bed and heaving the original egg back into the bag of holding when Elatharia nodded. "Not gonna miss having this tied around my eyes," she admitted as the Transmuter handed over her mask. "There's something real strange about being able to see with it tied right over 'em like this." And if it were not for the hollow tone in her voice, Elatharia might have believed that her sister was just as she had been before their capture. As it was, she could not even smile at her sister's grumbling, calling up the spell that would change her into Phaere's form instead.
"Will this retain its shape?" Haer'Dalis asked, prodding the newly altered egg.
"Yes," Elatharia promised, before looking up at her sister. "But you won't."
"Fine by me," Imoen shrugged, "I'll be back before you know it." And with a backward wave she departed before any further comments could be traded.
Elatharia slumped back against the headboard, not certain why her heart was pounding and her breathing ragged. Her body seemed to know her fear for her sister even while her mind failed to recognise it. Haer'Dalis sent her a sympathetic look which suggested he understood something, though she certainly did not.
"There is still movement amongst the troops gathered below," Viconia noted with some audible relief, now peering down through the window in the corner of the room. The very spot where Edwin had appeared just two days before. Elatharia looked away sharply. "Most likely Phaere will still be with her mother, snarling orders and threatening lashings for the slaves who do not do their part."
"It is a sport for all those with a whip here," Haer'Dalis agreed, with rather lacking enthusiasm. Viconia's healing spells had spared him any lasting damage from the recent attack upon his person, but he had been rather quieter since. Again, Elatharia found her eyes averting to her hands before he could look back at her. "Your sister does seem to be enjoying herself here, though not as at ease as Jaheira."
"Her body is remembering her old habits," Elatharia muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest and clasping her hands before her to stop the fidgeting. "But every day we will forget how we felt, she says. Bodhi behaved as though she enjoyed the things she did, but she can't have done."
"You already feel it," Viconia stated. "But you are right. It will only grow worse." Hardly reassuring. Still…
"Apparently it should not be possible for us to survive without our souls," Elatharia blurted, and felt her skin warm as she said it. According to Edwin. "That for a person to live without one, it must be by a god's decree."
"That is true," Viconia nodded, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms. Something about her narrowed eyes made Elatharia certain that the drow suspected this information had come from Edwin. "I had thought it unwise to discuss this with you, in the hope that you would not begin to feel its effects so quickly. But yes, you will appear much the same to the outside world for some time. A little blanker, perhaps. But over time your feelings will lessen to memories, your capacity for emotion will dull. And in the intermediate time, your mind will reel between its increasing deficiency and your body's persisting reactions. It will be confusing, perhaps disorientating."
"It is," Elatharia admitted softly, and the drow nodded.
"But Edwin was right," Viconia raised her eyebrows when Elatharia looked her way sharply. "Elatharia, you may have proven yourself a gifted wizard but you cannot expect me to believe that you know as much as a Conjurer about the art of soul theft and loss. And I am a true drow, well used to deceit. I am also your…friend. And I am well used to the wizard's influence upon you."
Watching them, Haer'Dalis grinned but did not comment. For her part Elatharia leaned her forehead on her knees rather than attempting to disagree with Viconia, preferring to listen to the drow's voice rather than watch her face. Apparently her feelings had not departed enough yet to spare her embarrassment.
"Since no god permitted the loss of your souls, for you to yet survive there must still be a fragment of it within both you and Imoen. It will slow the process of your depleting emotions, but may contribute further to your confusion."
"Ah, so Irenicus and Bodhi have been punished by a god, or with a god's will," Haer'Dalis mused, "How intriguing. And in the face of such, entropy can only grow – as it ever must. They stole from you and your sister because the souls of godchildren are the most easily plucked…and the strongest."
"It seems likely," Viconia agreed. Elatharia looked up at the tiefling with a frown all the same.
"What do you mean 'easily plucked'?"
"A god's children hold the essence of that god within their souls. Often they are used as a means of ensuring that god's return. They will designate a high priest or favoured servant to do the deed should they die – and when they do, that servant will reap the souls of the god's children until the essence can be restored," Haer'Dalis explained innocently, "It is common practice amongst the gods of the Abyss. 'Twould not surprise me if Bhaal had sought to do the same." He winced as he finished, as if he feared that Elatharia might berate him for withholding the information. Instead, she even managed a smile.
"What is it, khal'abbil?" Viconia asked warily. The Transmuter wondered just what kind of smile it was that she wore to make her companions so nervous.
"Oh, nothing. It just makes me wonder…does that mean that we can take our souls back more easily from Bodhi and Irenicus, as well?"
"Most probably," Viconia said, "Killing them is your best option, of course."
"Of course," Elatharia agreed, and her smile lingered.
By the time Imoen returned, Elatharia was pacing the room. Her sister looked relieved to have the form of Phaere Despana removed; she let out a long sigh as her natural shape was returned to her, sitting upon her bed only briefly before falling back upon it, her arms sprawled out above her head even as her booted feet remained flat upon the floor.
"Phew. Remind me never, ever to do that again. Ever," she breathed. Haer'Dalis laughed from where he now sat plucking at his miniature harp upon the room's only chair. Viconia rolled her eyes at him. When Elatharia had begun pacing, the drow had sat against the wall beside the tiefling, happy to relinquish her vigilance at least a little.
"Did you count how many eggs there were this time?" Elatharia demanded, leaning against the closed door as if that might stop anyone with serious intent breaking inside.
"Yep. Six," Imoen said on her next outbreath. She held out Elatharia's mask without sitting up and the Transmuter took it from her perhaps more quickly than necessary. Her body relaxed a little more as she fastened it across her markings. Old habits indeed.
"We should eat in the tavern," Viconia stated into the lull, standing and hauling Haer'Dalis up as well. His hands lingered on her waist, and she only batted them away as an afterthought. "It will look less suspicious. And…it sounds likely that Phaere will send us for Adalon's eggs tomorrow morning. It may be the last proper meal we have for a day or two."
"'Meal' sounds generous," Elatharia commented, but the drow just shook her head half-heartedly as she and Haer'Dalis left to order the food.
Once the door closed behind them, the Transmuter watched the carefree attitude slide from Imoen's posture. She covered her hands with her face, her groan of frustration muffled against her palms.
"I feel so lost," she mumbled, peeking at her sister from between her fingers as Elatharia perched on the edge of the bed beside her. "So empty. The first time…the first time I've not felt…not remembered him in so long…was when I was in House Despana with Solaufein."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Elatharia asked, a twinge of sickness accompanying the spark of affection that flared within her. She smoothed her sister's pink hair from her face. A habit, a memory…or a real feeling? All the same, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her sister's forehead when no answer came. "I love you, little sister," she whispered on impulse. There was a faint smile on Imoen's face when Elatharia sat up.
"Right back," the aasimar promised, though her silver-blue eyes were sadder than ever.
Just as Solaufein had predicted, Phaere summoned the disguised surfacers to her room in the Fighters' Society the following morning. She was entirely honest about her expectations for them, telling them to acquire six eggs however they could and to bring them back to her. In exchange she would send them to Matron Ardulace with the fakes she kept with her.
Throughout the whole meeting Imoen had been fairly shaking with fear, but if Phaere suspected them of anything she did not show it. She simply told them to leave that evening, and that Solaufein would be accompanying them. The others were clearly uneasy about this, eyeing him with even more distrust than before when he met them at the appointed hour outside the city gates, handing over the map that would lead them to Adalon's lair.
Elatharia and Viconia led the way this time, and it evidently did not take long for Solaufein to notice that something was amiss. He stopped walking abruptly at Imoen's side, forcing Valygar and Jaheira to dodge around him. His hands were at his sword hilts, his expression reproachful when Imoen turned to look at him.
"This is not the way to Adalon's lair," the drow growled. "This is the path to the svirfneblin settlement."
"Correct," Elatharia told him icily from behind Imoen.
"It's a…detour, not a trap," the aasimar explained. Solaufein braced himself for a fight all the same, and Jaheira tugged on Imoen's shoulder but the girl refused to move, raising her palms out toward the drow in an attempt to placate him.
This jagged tunnel was long, narrow and meandering, the stones underfoot uneven and at times slippery from a thin, central stream. Such terrain would be his best chance at defeating all of them – he must have been planning this confrontation from the moment they turned the wrong way. Realising this, the second time Jaheira tugged her back Imoen relented, permitting the druid and Valygar to form up in front of her.
"We did not risk our lives in helping you create a second set of fake eggs just to lead you out here to your death," Viconia told him, but his eyes flashed across her hatefully.
"It would not stop you," Solaufein snarled. "Do you think that I am so foolish? I know that Ardulace instructed Phaere to send me out here in the hope that I would die."
"We are considerably more concerned about surviving than we are about killing you," Elatharia sighed.
"And we have no intention of slaying the dragon," Haer'Dalis added. "Quite the contrary, as we admitted in your presence."
Solaufein did appear to relax a little at that, though he continued to eye them warily. He took a cautious step back when Viconia stepped forward from the group, her tone more of a weary drawl than a placatory one.
"We have a…companion… stationed near the svirfneblin settlement. He will be useful in persuading the dragon to our cause, should she prove resilient," Viconia said. "But perhaps it is unnecessary for all of us to go for him." The exaggerated shrug she gave proved to Imoen that she and Elatharia had planned this all along. "Veldrin, Sziithra – I will need you to go and find Korgan. The rest of us will await you upon the ledge ahead."
Jaheira and Elatharia complained a little about being sent anywhere together, but it seemed that they understood. Korgan may yet be injured; Jaheira had a number of healing spells to her name. He was a surfacer; only Elatharia could transmute him into something else. Thus they soon departed, the Transmuter aided by some vaguely familiar Divination.
"You travel with a duergar slave?" Solaufein asked of Imoen with some incredulity as the rest of the group followed Viconia around the next curve in the tunnel. Here a low ledge led into a shallow alcove aglow with pink and purple lichen.
"Something like that," Imoen nodded awkwardly. Glancing back at them, Haer'Dalis did not bother to hide his smirk at such an idea.
It turned out that drow did not light fires when camping in the Underdark, though the draft here was especially cold. Instead the five of them crouched within the alcove, both genuine drow watching the dark passageway closely, and for a long time no one spoke. Imoen jumped when Haer'Dalis nudged her foot with his own. Her gasp had drawn the attention of the others and she winced the tiefling's way under such scrutiny. He was watching her with curious eyes.
"What is it that has your thoughts?" he asked with painful perceptiveness. Imoen hesitated, but he was right – there was something on her mind and it would surely be better asked. So she turned to Solaufein, who was watching the interaction bemusedly from her side.
"I was just…wondering about what the priestess said to you in House Despana," she admitted to the drow, whose expression hardened at the mention. "About how you'd better be Phaere's servant and not her ally. And what you said before, about how you hate Ardulace so much more than her, too." It is not her fault…though she is far from blameless. Her mother is the instigator, as always, he had said.
"Yes – do tell, Solaufein," Viconia cut in, her smirk more cruel than curious. "I heard something of those rumours before I left. Of lack of faith, of something…other than the bond of a servant to his mistress. And upon my return I saw that you were both newly scarred."
"I know that Merdin has already told you of my 'lack of faith' – and that you have not turned me in proves your own heresy," Solaufein stated, glowering no less than before in the face of their questions. "And you should know that I am no longer deceived by your lie." The group tensed. "I know that you are not the true mercenaries that we sent for." Imoen bit back a sigh of relief. "And I care little for those that you presumably dispatched. Regardless, I certainly do not believe that you have any right to the information you seek," he added pointedly to Viconia, even as his shoulders slumped resignedly. "But if you are to understand Ardulace and Phaere's true plans then you will have to know some of the truth."
"That would be wise," Viconia agreed, only just staving off the mockery in her tone from the looks of it. Haer'Dalis was watching intently too – and Valygar appeared completely thrown by Solaufein's straightforward words.
"None of this is wise, Viconia," the male drow disagreed. But he began all the same, leaning his head against the stone behind him and staring into the shadows of the tunnel. "Your suspicions are correct. House Despana and my own – former – house, Jae'llat, are the two powers of Ust Natha. We have been allied for a long time – elsewise we would have destroyed each other – and therefore, of course, it is expected that members of our houses align with each other when we meet in youth. Phaere was only acting upon her mother's wishes when she and I met during our training. But…we became much closer than intended."
"Not an unfamiliar story," Viconia brushed his words aside even as she turned her head further to face Solaufein – all the better to avoid Haer'Dalis's eyes, clearly. "Scandalous, but manageable. Though I am surprised that you escaped the furore with your life, male."
"Indeed," Solaufein's grunted laugh was bitter, "That would have been the case if it were so simple. But it was not. For Phaere and I had renounced Lolth in secret…and intended to escape for Skullport where we had heard others like us lived outside of the Spider Queen's domain…at the Promenade of the Dark Maiden."
Viconia's eyes widened at that and she sat back as if the very idea had over-balanced her. She seemed momentarily lost for words, her jaw working without sound as her face crumpled into a look of disbelief.
"You…and Phaere Despana followed Eilistraee?" her voice was more of a wheeze. Solaufein actually looked slightly amused by her shock, though it barely showed in the stoic lines of his angular face save for a softening around his eyes.
"We did. But one of the slaves overheard us just before we were about to leave. Fearing for their life, they went to Ardulace. She killed them all the same, but I think I would have done as they did in their place," Solaufein shrugged. "We were captured at the city gates. We were both tortured, at first. But I think our mothers came to some agreement. I was to be thrown from House Jae'llat and kept under the thrall of House Despana for when Phaere returned." His fingertips drifted subconsciously over the thin scars marring his chin and temples.
"From when she returned?" Haer'Dalis asked, "Returned from where?" Solaufein met his eyes levelly, grief visible for just a moment as he spoke in answer.
"The drider pits. Apparently she was given a choice: endure sixty days of torture with the driders and return to House Despana as a repentant priestess of Lolth…or die a swifter death as a sacrifice, whereby her soul would become the Spider Queen's property for an eternity of torment. She chose the driders, whose torments I do not think any of us can imagine."
Imoen felt the blood drain from her face, a cold feeling suffusing her stomach. The icy air was abruptly stifling, the bodies all around her looming too close. Gasping, blind, she scrambled from the ledge without thought, where she doubled up against the tightness in her chest. The flashes of knives behind her eyes, the memory of hot blood upon her hands, of her sister's distant screams… She covered her mouth to hold back her own scream when a figure flitted before her and a hand settled heavily upon her shoulder. And oh gods…she could imagine. But what would Elatharia have imagined?
"I think perhaps some of us can imagine, Solaufein," Haer'Dalis told the drow warrior gravely. The tiefling had crouched before Imoen in the tunnel, and now let go of her shoulder as she looked back at him. Chewing her lip, she felt an echo of guilt. Of course he had suffered…and in the Abyss, no less. Embarrassment followed, though Viconia and Solaufein barely spared her a glance. Valygar would not raise his eyes towards Imoen as Haer'Dalis guided her back to the others, her legs trembling fiercely.
"I was spared because of Phaere's choice. I am to haunt her always until I die; and the sooner I die, the better as far as they are concerned," Solaufein finished.
"It certainly puts Phaere into a different perspective," Valygar grunted into the thoughtful quiet. But Viconia was shaking her head at Solaufein.
"You are a coward, male," she berated him – something which he appeared to have expected, for he barely flinched. "You live so close to the surface that you could escape at any time. Do you truly prefer such a doomed life over freedom? You chose to leave Lolth's power; you are already alone. There is less to fear from escape now than there ever was."
Instead of arguing, Solaufein nodded – though his frown had deepened.
"Yes. But I had planned to have my revenge first," he admitted.
"Against Ardulace, I can understand," Haer'Dalis nodded even as his face twisted into a look closer to a sneer than Imoen had ever seen from him. "But Phaere? It seems…unnecessary." Solaufein's stare was withering as it met the bard's.
"She has chosen this stupidity with the eggs and left me no choice. She intends to overthrow her mother, and that is something I cannot fault. But she wishes to do so in a manner that I cannot permit."
"There must surely be another way…" Haer'Dalis looked for support from Viconia, but none came.
"Solaufein is correct. If we are to avoid stealing from the dragon then Phaere must face the consequences. She is trapped by Ust Natha's code. There is no escape left for her."
Imoen watched the grim look on Solaufein's face and wondered if it really were so simple. He had endured some significant time of abuse from Phaere, however broken she was, and it looked to the aasimar more like simple revenge. Her thoughts turned to Irenicus, and to the pain such thoughts brought.
Through the gloom, beyond the stench of burned meat, above the distant crash of waves through the temporarily sealed cliff opening…Adalon sensed the golden power of a fallen god. And with it came the smell of blood – the blood of the wyverns who had so loyally protected her these centuries passed. Anger bloomed, slow and seething, and with a rumble of breath she unfurled from her place at the far end of the cavern closest to the open air she so missed.
Sunlight slanted in from the root-gnarled ceiling, and soil shook down from the earth above as Adalon rose to her feet, coins and gems rushing and clattering as she prowled forward, towards the tiny entry which led out into the Underdark. It had been necessary whilst her wyverns brought food to sustain her during this confinement. Only a fool would permit their eggs to linger untended, no matter how much she wished to fly in the open air.
The moment she beheld their small humanoid forms bumbling through the gap of stone, she called forth a flare of light. Not bright enough to cause her a problem, but certainly painful and disorientating for drow eyes. For these were seven drow and a duergar, covered in the blood of dead wyverns.
"If you are here for battle, know that your deaths will be all the more satisfying now that you have slain my servants," Adalon boomed, stalking forward at a pace that ought to have had these drow staggering back, even blinded by the light as they…ought to have been. Yet only two did, cowering with their arms raised. The rest stood there with their tiny feet planted, their weapons untouched. Nor were their arms raised for spellcasting.
"We slew your…servants because they attacked us without consideration," one of the female drow called up, her arms folded before her. There was something amiss here. Adalon could sense the divine essence strongly among the group – and now as she looked down to their brash leader she sensed it in her eyes. The spark of the golden light of Bhaal, Lord of Murder. The silver dragon bared her teeth and growled, stalking backwards without turning her head from the godchild. The blue eyed one beside the first held the spark as well, though also the glow of an aasimar.
"Bhaalspawn," Adalon hissed as the group scrambled together, light bodies rocked by the rumble of her words. "What do Bhaalspawn want with me?" And there was more – these were surely not drow. Not all of them. An instant later and her next spell revealed to her the truth. Two drow, an aasimar, a tiefling, a dwarf, a half elf and two humans. Disguised as seven drow and a duergar. Curious. Dangerous.
"We come with a warning," the human Bhaalspawn proclaimed, "But not a threat. The drow of Ust Natha intend for us to take from you your precious eggs to fuel a summoning and aid them in their conquest of the sun elves in the lands above. But we would rather deal with you, for we have no wish to fight one so…fearsome as you."
Adalon ceased her prowling to hear this, watching as the human pulled forth a perfect replica of one of her eggs from an enchanted bag at her hip. The girl had the audacity to hold her eye, though she refrained from extending the silver oval out to her.
"This is a fake egg. And I am willing to make five more, and to pass them off to my…mistress…as your true eggs, thus dooming her summoning. In exchange for your aid."
A few members of the group bristled at that, even as Adalon herself snarled, snapping her jaws just feet from the girl. Neither Bhaalspawn flinched, though the dragon's outbreath ruffled their hair. The blue eyed aasimar was staring at her sister with a frown.
"I should just kill you," Adalon said, and the human Bhaalspawn had the audacity to smile. It was a blank smile. Returning the egg to her bag, she raised her spindly humanoid arms and the female drow and the disguised dwarf stepped forward, pushing back their cloaks to reveal armour unmistakably of dragon scales. A red dragon, and a black dragon.
"We have already slain two of your cousin-kin. One was the red dragon Firkraag," the Bhaalspawn said coolly. Adalon tensed, her tail pushing at the coins piled behind her to cover her eggs. Firkraag was a dread name amongst her kind. "I suspect we could take you, too. If we had to." The warning rumble of Adalon's growl set them wobbling on their feet again, but in truth the dragon was afraid. It was said none even of her kind could kill the mighty Firkraag, but…
"Please, my sister's not so clear about how much we don't want to fight you or even think about stealing your eggs!" the aasimar implored. "We didn't want to kill your wyverns, but they done gave us no choice."
A moment or two passed while Adalon thought this over. The humanoids watched with poorly disguised fear, though the human Bhaalspawn did well to hide it. These two godchildren were hollow, but for the divine essence coiled about their beings – soulless. Cursed. And amongst their group it appeared that the male drow who hung back by the door and still cowered in the light was the only one utterly unused to the sun. He did not look to his companions, and he watched the interaction with evident confusion. Adalon had learned enough in her long life to recognise that he did not even know the truth of those who travelled with him. He believed them all to be drow, save for the dwarf. Unlike the silver dragon, he could not see through the strong Transmutations veiling them.
"In what way do you wish my aid in return for your 'magnanimity'?" Adalon rumbled at last. The half elf amongst the group stepped up, her pale eyes full of genuine awe as she stared at the dragon before her. This one's faintly bronze skin suggested sun elf ancestry, and a silver spear shimmered at her back while her hands were raised in supplication.
"We seek to stop the drow and those who aid them," she explained. The others nodded without any hint of dissent.
"And in exchange for our use of the fake eggs – at great personal risk for us, oh wondrous beast – we do humbly request your aid in fighting back these drow," the tiefling finished. The tone in his voice was perhaps a little mocking, but the chance to fight the drow was tempting.
"You have long been an ally of the sun elves of Lil Berrkig dil Xonathul…The Field of the Battle," the female drow spat the Common name out as though it tasted awful. "Surely it would benefit you as much as any of us to put the ravening masses of Ust Natha in their place?"
That was true. And very tempting.
"How can I do this while my eggs remain unhatched?" Adalon pointed out at last. The human Bhaalspawn squared her shoulders.
"I can transmute the wall of this cavern, and temporarily redirect the passage away from the path known to the drow. My sister can lay traps in the event that it is found. And we have an ally who is willing to cover this whole place in Illusions, should you let him."
"No one will cast spells inside this cavern," Adalon disagreed, and the intruders were quick to bow their heads in acquiescence. "But…I am tempted by your suggestion. The drow deserve to be beaten back."
"Then we do agree," the human Bhaalspawn's teeth bared. She did jump a little when the dragon's tail lashed.
"Yes. But you will cast your spells before you leave. I would see the truth of your promise."
"Not a problem," the soulless human vowed. "Do we have a deal?"
"We do," Adalon said at last. Anything to remind those wretched drow that they should never threaten her eggs.
