Chapter 10

NOW

The darkness was everywhere.

It was everything. It was overwhelming. It was never ending.

But the overwhelming darkness wasn't alone in the Underdark. It had a companion. An insidious, ever present accomplice.

Unnerving, unending, deafening silence.

We'd been on the move for the better part of the day; following Nathyrra confident stride from the Illithid trading post to the Beholder's caverns. Through narrow tunnels and wide passages, across large open cathedrals of stone and winding stalagmite mazes. The one constant had been the infinite silent darkness.

That was, at least, until Valen decided to interrupt it.

He tapped his armoured foot in a steady beat — hard metal against harder stone. His pitch was steady as he hummed a simple tune.

And then… lyrics.

"They say that a lass born in Sigil." Valen's deep timbre carried easily, uncaring as he was of his audience.

For what felt like the hundredth time, I pressed one of the strange buttons on the alien machine that the drow and I crowded around. We watched with bated breaths as the panel lit up in reply. The light around one symbol dulled into darkness, the one next to it lighting up in its place.

Nathyrra's grimace matched my own.

It had moved the wrong way — again.

Valen withheld his steady beat, detached from our frustrated ministrations of the panel.

"Will place her heart in a box," he continued.

Trying my best to ignore him, I pressed the next button.

Nathyrra nodded as the light moved back in the correct direction. I couldn't help the grin that pulled at my lips, my deep frown finally relaxing.

I applied the same logic to the next row of lines.

The grimace was quick to return, as it did the opposite of what I'd expected.

My work undone, I whacked the side of the panel with an open palm. Hissing as my hand connected with the cold stone.

"Piece of shit," I uttered, massaging my palm.

Nathyrra pushed forward, giving herself a better view of the panel, her brow drawn in concentration.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, willing the frustration to pass.

I felt Nathyrra lean across me as she pressed another button.

Ready, I opened my eyes, taking stock of the panel's lights.

Nodding to myself, I selected a new button — only with a little more force than necessary.

Yep; it was definitely moving the right way again!

"The key don't you see…"

I bit my lip, willing my mind to focus on the panel and not the tiefling's rumbling tone.

Another button and another row of symbols lit up on the strange device's panel.

The buttons flashed a deeper colour.

I forced myself to hold off on the celebrations.

One more row…

I found myself staring at the panel, the lights all blurring into one.

Where was I up to, again?

Valen's voice rose. "It comes with a fee," he hummed, uncaring to our frustrated ministrations of the panel.

Unable to take it any longer, I spun away from the panel, breathing heavily through my nose.

"You're worse than Deekin!" I admonished. I did my best to ignore the bitter pang as the kobold bard's name left my lips.

I waved a hand in Valen's smirking face. It surprised me to see he was already facing us — probably watching the tense set of my back become worse and worse, the entire time.

He shrugged, unapologetic. HIs smirk was still firmly in place.

Nathyrra ignored my outburst, still frowning down at the panel with a hand on her chin, unfazed by Valen's singing.

I felt a pang of envy at her single-minded focus.

Rather than better myself and attempt the same level of concentration, I lent into the frustration; welcoming a source to direct it at.

I pointed at the magical control panel with choppy motions, eyes never leaving the tiefling's easy smirk. "You think you could do a better job?" I pressed through gritted teeth.

The control panel had been designed to control a shadow bridge, which — if successfully activated — would help us cross the giant chasm to the beholder's hive.

If we could line the symbols up on the screen properly.

However — if my memory served me — if we pressed the final button and got it wrong, it would send a jolt of electricity into the user.

Probably killing them.

But Nathyrra and Valen didn't know that last part, yet — and I had no logical way of warning them without showing my hand.

Which is why I was the only one currently on edge.

"You ladies seem to have it under control," was Valen's only input on the matter.

Almost an hour later — but it could have been a lifetime, in this place with no light — Valen's singing reduced to a hum, and even cool Nathyrra's patience wearing thin, we finally lined up all of the symbols on the glowing stone tablet.

I couldn't help the triumphant shout that escaped my lips. Nathyrra wasn't nearly as open with her celebrations, merely offering me a small smile.

Valen approached with a curious tilt of his head at the happy sound.

With a cocky flourish, I stood back and allowed Valen the honour of pressing the button that would either activate the bridge or potentially kill him.

I barely tensed when he pressed his palm to the pad.

Thankfully, it activated the bridge.

With a deep rumble, the shadowy expanse before us shifted and multiplied, solidifying into a smooth onyx bridge.

We picked up our belongings, the dragging of our feet from earlier that day forgotten. I placed a tentative toe on the shifting bridge, and — upon meeting solid ground — continued a little less cautiously.

It was narrow, so we were forced to walk in single file; Valen in front and Nathyrra taking up the rear guard.

The edges of the bridge seemed to shift and fade when I caught sight of it in my peripheral.

I did all I could to look directly ahead, ignoring the darkness that pressed in on all sides, doing my best not to think about the open expanse below.

I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. My stomach dropped and I gasped in surprises when I realised that the ground — when focused on — was still somewhat transparent.

Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down.

Eyes darting straight ahead, I instead focused on the gentle sway of Valen's tail.

Left, right, left, right.

"So," I started slowly, eyes still firmly planted on him. "I've fought a couple of these floating peepers before. But I've always been able to keep my distance." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Doubt I'll be able to do the same on their home turf. Any advise?"

Left, right, left, right.

"Try not to hit us," Nathyrra offered.

She'd made the comment lightly, a playful lilt to her tone — I think — but it still stung. I'd never actually hit any of my companions before, but I'd certainly waited out my share of fights because I had not wanted to risk it.

Left, right, left, right.

Suddenly, Valen looked back at me over his shoulder, my enchanted quiver's green light throwing shadows across the harsh planes of his face.

I quickly snapped my eyes up to his own.

He'd definitely caught me staring.

Ignoring my rising blush, he offered his input: "And keep your eyes peeled," he stated, completely deadpan.

Rolling my eyes at his equivalent of a dad-joke, I turned away from the smiling tiefling to hide the growing burning in my cheeks. I craned my head to see the hilt of my longsword, over my shoulder. "Any wisdom, Enserric?"

The sword flared red as he contemplated my question.

"You're asking a sword for advice?" He mused out loud, his tone sly. I tilted my head back with a sigh, suddenly knowing what was coming. "Here's some advice; don't do that." I could feel the smug satisfaction radiating from him.

I gave a sarcastic laugh, shaking my head at Valen's answering smile.

"Wow. Isn't everybody just so fricken plucky today?" I managed through the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips.

Now, faced with this realisation, it wasn't hard to see why, earlier, Valen had been singing so easily. Why Nathyrra had made her coy joke.

We'd had our first big win — the illithid no longer supporting our enemy — and the elevation of that huge success was contagious.

My hand flew to my chest, where my ring had once sat.

Immediately my frown returned, and the excited flutter in my chest disappeared.

I worried at my lip as I considered all we still had to face in the Underdark. And then beyond that.

'Let them have their fun,' Enserric admonished, his warning tone ringing through my mind.

Smile gone, the entrance to the beholder's hive loomed over Valen's shoulder, a round gaping maw in an otherwise plain wall of stone.

The wall extended as high as I could see.

As we approached, the bridge started to widen.

"I must admit," Valen said, noting my change in demeanour as he unclasped his flail. "It is nice to be making progress."

I nodded slowly.

Pulling my bow from my back, I loosely nocked a poison-tipped arrow in place.

Sidling up beside me, Nathyrra mutter a few words in an arcane language under her breath. I suddenly smelt the bitter tang of licorice and felt the gentle tingle of the drow's magic. Lights shimmered all around me, before leaching into my skin and fading entirely from sight.

Immediately, I felt my speed increase, and I used the momentum of the spell to carry me to Valen's side, facing the hive's entrance side on.

I drew my bow, muscles aching with the strain after the already long day's trek.

Valen tensed, shifting his stance.

A moment later I heard the horrible screeching that had set Valen on edge; a shrill piercing noise that sent goosebumps up my spine.

The darkness ahead was broken by glowing red dots. They blinked in and out of existence.

There were so many.

I took a deep breath.

My fear of the unknown depths below us forgotten, we faced against the Beholders with renewed determination.

I released the arrow and we attacked.

THEN

It was a day like any other.

A long day tracking deer with Farghan — no luck, but I'd nervously noted increased kobold tracks in the snow — ending in an early night after a quick drink with Dorna and Xanos.

It was followed by a morning I'd been dreading for months.

I heard a commotion from downstairs — something falling over? — and initially disregarded it as a dream my increasingly anxious mind had conjured.

Besides, the school was always filled with noise first thing in the morning.

I burrowed deeper into my bed, pulling the blanket tight around my chin to keep the precious warmth in.

But then there'd been frantic knocking at my door, followed by: "Damn it, Emma!" Xanos' voice.

I threw the covers back, eyes wide and heart hammering in my chest. It was happening.

"Coming!" I called back, through a tight throat.

The hammering on my door didn't let up as I threw my clothes on in a mad rush.

When I threw my door open my leather vest was askew and only half tied, and my hair was a tangled mess. My quiver was only half full — intending to make more with Farghan today — and my bow was hung awkwardly over my shoulder. One hand on the now open door, the other was still tightening my belt, knives already attached.

I opened it to a wide-eyes Xanos — greener than usual — with a dagger in hand. Dorna was on her knees, a lockpick in hand and another in her mouth, with a battleaxe strapped to her back. Dark circles sat beneath her wide, bloodshot eyes.

Misha's door, opposite to mine, opened only a moment later. Her blonde bob was a rare mess, but her face was set. She entered the hall with the rest of us, pulling her door shut quietly behind her. She held her longsword in hand but wasn't dressed for battle; just a simple tunic and boots.

"Do you think this is your final test, Emma?" Misha asked me with wide eyes. "Drogan said it was coming up."

I shook my head quickly, worrying at my lip.

Dorna stood up with a groan, putting her lock picks away as she drew her short sword. "Didn't I tell you last night I wanted something exciting to happen in Hilltop, Xanos?"

"Knew this was your fault somehow," he managed, eyes flicking between us and the closed door at the bottom of the stairs.

My heart was pounding in my ears as I drew my bow, frowning towards the stairs as the sound of items being thrown about grew louder. I carefully nocked an arrow, holding it loosely in place.

Then, a shrill shout. Something in pain.

I strained my ears.

"Kobolds," I hissed in warning.

Her stance determined, Misha immediately touched a focus crystal to her ring, disappearing in a flash of light to help Drogan.

With a roll of her bloodshot eyes, Dorna was quick to follow in her stead.

I could hear more shrill shouts as the kobolds realised that they were suddenly facing more resistance.

Xanos glanced at me with a forced grin. "Don't suppose you want to share your crystal?"

I huffed at him, pulling his broad arm in my direction as I started jogging to the stairs. "Come on!" I hissed.

I pushed open the door with my back, showing only the slightest hesitance, before jumping aside to let Xanos charge ahead.

I pulled back an arrow, taking stock of the room, my back flush against the door and stairs; my escape, if I needed it. Then it was a quick dash up the hall to my room, and straight out the window to Farghan's, the back way — just like I'd practised.

The stench of magic and burning flesh permeated the room.

Drogan stood in the middle of the main hall, an orb of protective magic glowing around him as the kobolds closed in.

"Back with you!" he shouted gruffly between spells, his lips set in a determined scowl.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, but it looked like he currently had the room under control.

Dorna and Misha were fighting hand-to-hand with three of the creatures, using the table to create distance between the bulk of them.

There were so many of them. More than I'd ever laid eyes on in one place.

The scaly reptilian creatures crowded the old dwarf, more of them pouring into the room as I watched. Each time one fell, another entered with a screech.

Drogan threw out his arms, glowing blue orbs flying from his fingers and into the charging kobolds, killing them instantly.

I gaped at the raw power; the show of magic, unlike anything I'd ever seen Xanos conjure before.

Xanos was already casting, arms across his chest and eyes shut, his accented voice barely reaching my ears over the sounds all around us. The half-orc sorcerer was standing out in the open — no wonder he went through so many crystals! — his teeth bared in a snarl as he spat out the arcane words required for his spell.

A glimmer of lights surrounded him before sinking into his flesh and disappearing. Protection sorted, he opened his eyes and singled out a kobold with a pointed green finger and began another incantation — a desperate tinge to his voice as he tripped over his words in his panic.

No time to worry about the half-orc, I narrowed my eyes as I started counting the kobolds.

Gritting my teeth, I ducked quickly behind a pillar as soon as I noticed that some of them held crossbows in their small clawed hands, appraising the room.

I heard Misha shout out — in pain or anger I didn't know.

She'll be fine, I reminded myself between too-loud breaths.

I held my arrow in place but didn't draw my bow. I wasn't going to give away my location until I had to.

A glimmer and then the woosh of a spell.

I ducked my head back around the pillar to get another look at the room.

Just what I was looking for.

It had been the telltale sound of a teleportation spell.

I lined up the shot.

A kobold materialised into the room, armed with a glowing green knife. It — he? — appeared directly behind Drogan with a feral hiss.

I held my arrow steady — forcing myself to take deep, even breaths — just as Farghan had taught me.

I watched the kobold down the length of my bow, ignoring all of the shouting around me.

I watched as the kobold lined Drogan up with an excited yip.

And I waited as it drew its little spindly arm back and trust the blade through the lower half of Drogan's back.

I flinched.

The protective orb of magic that had surrounded Drogan a moment before spluttered and disappeared.

The dwarf gave a short bellow, throwing his arms back and losing focus on his spell as he slumped to the ground. The kobold threw its arms in the air in celebration.

I heard Misha cry out his name in alarm.

I pushed through the guilt as I let go of my arrow, hitting the kobold straight and true through the centre of its small scaly neck.

Instantly dead, it fell to the floor without a sound.

With perfectly horrible timing, a woman charged through the open doorway with a bellow, snow clinging to her hair. She slashed at three kobolds with a single swing of her huge weapon, before sending another flying with a powerful shove of her shoulder.

Her blond hair was pulled back, giving a clear view of her delicate elven features, all splattered with blood.

She'd fought her way into the school.

Hilltop was already under attack.

Xanos finally cast a successful offensive spell, the magic missiles seeking out those kobolds closest to him.

On the other side of the room, Dorna was fighting with a renewed determination, her short sword from earlier replaced by a battleaxe covered in runes. With a shout, she kicked a chair at two incoming kobolds, before digging her weapon into them.

Misha battled alongside the mysterious elf, fighting to protect Drogan's still form.

I drew another arrow and helped them finish off the kobolds, picking off those with the crossbows first, occasionally pausing to duck behind the pillar.

When the battle was finally won, the others rushed to Drogan's side, the tall elf's weapon still in hands.

"That's it?" She watched the open doorway, eyes wide as she stood guard over Drogan's body. "The little beasts are all gone?"

Knowing the battle was won, I took a moment to place the bow back on my shoulder.

Whilst she was distracted, I risked a slight detour to pick up the green glowing blade from the kobold-turned-assassin. I pulled out one of my knives and considered it for a moment, before tossing it to the floor and replacing it with the kobold's better one.

As an afterthought, I pulled his coin purse loose and shoved it into my belt with a hurried glance in my companion's direction.

Then, wiping the sweat from my forehead, I approached the others, chest heaving as I willed my breathing to even out and my heart to slow.

Drogan was still, lying on his side in a crumpled heap as blood pooled from the wound on his back. His arm was twisted, reaching for the injury, already drenched red. Eyes scrunched shut, his expression was pinched in pain, sweat beading on his skin.

"I can only imagine what they did to make him fall," the elf admonished, turning her pointed chin down to observe the dwarf.

Poison! The answer seemed simple, but the word died on my lips. Don't show your hand.

The elf knelt carefully by Drogan's side to investigate.

Drogan barely stirred at her approach, just the barest of agitated twitches — as if caught in a bad dream. She placed her huge blade on the ground, still within easy reach.

Xanos and Dorna were leaning in close, crowding the two of them, as the elf touched a finger carefully to his back.

She pulled it away and gave it a tentative sniff.

I jumped as Misha slammed the door shut, bolting it in place.

"Poison?" The elf gasped. I did my best to feint surprise with the others. "I cannot tell the type, but I should be able to counter it." She lent in and muttered something comforting into his ear, patting him gently — and with obvious familiarity — on his shoulder.

She pulled something from a pouch at her waist and clasped it in her hands in a white-knuckled grip, before muttering some words with a bowed head and closed eyes. Her words were too quiet to make out, but I immediately felt the uncomfortable tingle of magic on the back of my neck.

As she worked, I found myself mesmerized by the severe tilt of her eyes, lidded as they were by long dark lashes. They fluttered against her rosy cheekbones, and I followed their harsh angles to the tips of her impossibly pointed ears. Despite her obvious strength — my eyes roamed back to her greatsword in wonder — she was lithe, limbs thin and long.

She wasn't what I'd been expecting of an elf.

She looks so… alien.

Unfazed by our staring, she finished her muttering with an audible "Thank you, Mystra." Spell — or prayer, as it now seemed — complete, a white light enveloped Drogan, before being absorbed by his skin.

Nothing else happened.

"Nothing?" the eld admonished, eyes wide. "The poison resists? How?" She finally seemed to look over each of us. We stared back with varying degrees of surprise and concern.

I frowned when her eyes found my own and held.

Uncomfortable, I muttered; "Not like kobolds to have a complex toxin like that, I take it?"

She nodded, eyes darting around and focusing on everything and nothing, as she considered the facts. "How could they have acquired such a poison?" She considered Drogan. "And why did they come all this way just to strike you down?"

"Thanks for your help and all, but," Dorna started, before being cut off by Xanos' booming voice.

"But who in the nine hells are you?" the half-orc finished.

"I haven't seen you around town," Dorna continued for him, confirming my suspicion.

There'd been no elves in town.

I'd kept my eye out for her, hoping her presence would serve as an early warning.

"I find it a little suspicious that some helpful stranger would show up just as these creatures attack, eh?" Xanos continued, stepping forward until he towered over the elf and Drogan, chest puffed out.

"How rude," Misha's frown was deep as she stepped into the tight circle that surrounded the injured dwarf, pressing a gentle hand against the elf's upper arm. "This lady aided us and you pay her back with suspicion?"

"Rude or not, I'd still like an answer," Dorna snapped at Misha, shifting her gaze to the elf and making it very apparent that she was still holding her axe. "You have remarkable timing, elf."

The elf in question observed all of this with a blank face, neither bemused nor concerned. She held my gaze as she picked up her weapon and resheathed it at her side. "Of course you're suspicious. I would be as well, were I in your shoes." She bowed her head. "My name is Ayala Windspear."

"And what brings you to our home?" I immediately pressed, already familiar with the tale I would get.

She nodded. "I have been following the tracks of these kobolds for almost two days now," she observed the bodies that littered the room. "I thought it odd that they would range so far from their home caves in the Nether Mountains."

I nodded, having noticed the same thing. I crossed my arms across my chest to hide the shaking of my hands. "They've become increasingly confident over the last few weeks," I agreed.

"I never imagined they would do something like this," she continued. "As soon as I realised they were heading for Hilltop I came as quickly as I could… but too late." She shook her head, eyes roaming back to Drogan's twitching form.

"So you came through the town, straight to our school?" I pressed with a raised brow, knowing full well that the town beyond our closed door was still fighting.

Would the outcome for the town change if I just stayed inside, I wonder?

"Shouldn't we do something?" Misha pressed, her face pinched in panic.

Dorna ignored the younger woman. "Why were you following them, to begin with?" She pressed the elf.

She gave a small smile and a shrug. "I was passing through. It's my responsibility to take note of strange occurrences and investigate them. No matter how seemingly insignificant."

Dorna scrunched up her face, her lips curled down in confusion. She wasn't buying it. "What do you mean it's your responsibility?"

"She's a Harper," I cut in over the end of Dorna's sentence, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

I saw she'd already opened her mouth to answer Dorna, before darting her head back in my direction in surprise. "Why, yes. Yes I am." She tilted her head. "As is Drogan. But I suspect you already knew that." She seemed to take me in afresh.

I'd impressed her.

I smirked, shrugging a shoulder and trying for cool and casual.

My fellow students all observed me with varying degrees of surprise on their faces.

"Aren't the Harpers some kind of secret society, sworn to fight evil, or some such?" Xanos scoffed. "Not very secret, are they?" The last bit was a mumbled aside in my direction.

She pursed her lips. "It may be one such enemy that is behind this — obviously targeted — attack."

A gasp from Drogan — when did he wake?

"I believe," he gasped again. "I can shed some light on that."

"Master Drogan," Dorna and Misha collectively gasped, crowding him once more. Xanos managed a toothy grin, despite himself.

"Mystra be praised," Ayala breathed.

Drogan pushed himself into a leaning position, as Misha eased an arm around his back, pushing a hand against his wound.

"It was the artefacts. They were after the artefacts," he managed to ground out to the frowning elf. "They've been stolen. All four of them. I could do nothing." He gave a wracking cough, before spitting a wad of blood onto the already stained timber beside him.

Ayala nodded in understanding, her obvious suspicions confirmed. "But how did anyone find out," I tensed as her eyes darted momentarily to me and then back to the dwarf.

I swallowed.

Stepping forward I forced myself to focus only on the present. Not on what was about to come.

There's so much to do…

"Artefacts?" I pressed, filling what should have been Emma's role with a pit in my stomach.

And so they told us about the dangerous items, four of which the Harpers had trusted to Drogan's care. I already had them listed in my notebook under the title "the MacGuffins".

Ayala offered to stay and tend to Drogan's wounds. And Drogan — against all logic — insisted I was best suited for this task.

"But why me?" I finally pressed at the surprised look on both Dorna and Xanos' faces. I tried not to flinch at the open hurt in Misha's eyes. "This is obviously important."

Drogan and I considered each other for a moment, the others waiting expectantly.

And finally; "You will do," he paused for breath. "What needs to be done."

I swallowed, knowing his words to be the truth of it.

This is what you've been training for. I squared my shoulders.

"Do me proud," Drogan finally managed through a pained gasp. The command in his tone was clear.

I felt my chest clench.

What he needed to say done, he let his eyes fall shut and lent into Misha's side.

And so, with my insistanance that Misha and Ayala would be all the protection the school needed, Dorna, Xanos and I retreated back to our rooms to properly change and equip ourselves.

Then, with a final word from Ayala about some herbs she required to ensure Drogan's stability — all of which I knew Farghan had on hand — we left the relative safety of our school behind.

NOTEBOOK EXTRACT

A page, written in Jane's usually messy handwriting. It looks like she's spent some time on this half page, as she's gone to extra effort to make her writing legible.

Given the nature of the content, it's probably from a particularly uneventful watch.

Don't Look for Beauty in the Eye of a Beholder, A Poem:

One stalk to charm,

One to stop you in your track.

One stalk to cause alarm,

One to make you laid back.

One stalk to slow you down,

One to lift you up.

One stalk to cause sleep…

Here it looks like Jane has tried a few different lines before heavily crossing them out. The word 'stiffening' has especially heavy lines across it.

The final list is written in her usual hasty scrawl, after giving up on the poem:

They also have:

Petrification Ray

Disintegration Ray

Death Ray

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, everyone, for your continued support and reviews - they're food for my muse. :)