Chapter 18

It was like the drow in the room had forgotten how to stand still.

The writhing masses in front of me were a riot of colour and movement and life, everyone more hyped up than they should have been on the eve of a battle.

'Or maybe that's exactly the point,' this from Enserric; audible only because he was in my mind.

Inside the public house, it was like the drow were dancing below the Northern Lights. Beneath a magical fog-swirled an array of blues, acid greens, purples and gold. Some of the drow glowed the brilliant white we'd seen outside, but most did not — the seemingly random pattern of the faerie fire still unclear.

I looked down at my hand momentarily, just to make sure I too didn't glow.

Music played over the dance floor as if it had fused with the moving bodies, the string instruments impossibly loud.

We had paused in the doorway, and the gentle shove of a new patron come to join in the festivities shocked us suddenly from our stupor.

Valen looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. My 'why not?' shrug was all he needed.

We slipped in among the crowd, making a beeline for the bar through the throng of moving bodies. A path opened up for Valen's hulking form, and I shoved through the wave as it almost immediately closed up behind him.

The crowd moving to and from the bar was too much for us both to easily navigate, and so I hung back, watching the top of Valen's as he navigated through the much shorter drow.

Arms crossed and back rigid, I noticed almost immediately that the drow — men especially — all did their best to keep their distance, despite the cramped quarters, moving gracefully around me. Curious eyes would widen and dart to me in surprise before their owner continued to the dancefloor, becoming just another face lost in the next.

Thankfully I didn't have to wait long before the masses parted and Valen returned.

In the wake of all the lavish beauty around us, I was suddenly struck by his dishevelled appearance. Ash and dirt and various other gunk from the caves of the Underdark adorned his unruly mess of stark red hair. He looked tired and worn. Bloodstained bandages I had tended to encircle a forearm, visible as his dirty sleeves were pulled back to the elbow. Cuts and bruises decorated his face, and mud and dried blood streaked his clothes.

And he looked infinitely better than all of the silk-wrapped drow on the dancefloor.

I shifted uncomfortably when I saw his eyes roam across me, from head to toe; and — from the open amusement in his eyes — I knew that I looked just as dishevelled and out of place as he. I tried not to let my discomfort show and dropped my arm from where I hugged my own midsection.

I blinked in surprise, for in each hand he held — not food, which my stomach so desired — but drinks.

A sheepish expression came over his face in reply to my expression.

The cocktails — for that's only what they could be described as — had been served in tall glass goblets. They were vibrant, glowing purple with a murky, dark violet center.

He ducked his head as he approached, leaning towards my ear and shouting; "It's all they're serving." He was barely audible over the music and chatter.

He pulled back, passing me my drink before giving his own a tentative sniff.

I eyed it speculatively, conscious that Nathyrra was usually our guide to the Underdark and ways of the city.

I strained to hear what he said next. Something along the vein of; "We'll have to make do with our trail rations after this."

I tried to ignore the pang of disappointment his words caused, before immediately pushing it down with an ease born of practice.

Between his first sip and the next, he pulled his lips down in a 'not bad' expression, giving me all the confidence I needed to try the drink myself.

I raised my glass.

"Cheers to slaying dragons," I said. Valen raised his glass in reply, but I suspected he was having just as hard a time hearing as I was — if his blank expression was anything to go by — so I added a quick; "and to dying."

'Past and future,' Enserric added, with altogether too much glee.

The drink was surprisingly strong — despite its deceptively fun appearance — causing me to splutter in surprise. When I took my second cautious sip, I was ready, and actually managed to appreciate the subtle botanical flavours.

Valen took another mouthful — drink almost entirely gone already — his foot tapping lazily as his eyes roamed, surveying the room.

As we drank in necessary silence — the public house too loud for anything else — my eyes ate up the room; from the glowing white hair moving in waves, bare arms reaching for the carved stalactites, to the levitating drow with what looked like a small harp. His fingers were like ebony blurs on the instrument's strings, and I strained to see the rest of the ban, even balancing on my toes.

The third sip of my drink was even better, and I found myself tipping the glass back in its entirety by my fourth and final so that I wouldn't miss a drop.

I strained to find a pattern to the dancing, the drow's twisting and spinning as chaotic as it was beautiful.

Everything about the flowing silks made me want to join the dance, my feet tapping in time and my heart beating in synch.

Near me, a man spun a woman the wrong way — evident from her surprised stumble. This was immediately followed by a resounding slap that landed squarely on the deeply apologetic man's jaw. At her misstep, they immediately began to glow. Eyes narrowing, she dragged him from the dancefloor by the hand, teeth finding his lips as they pushed their way through throngs of people and out of sight.

I shook my head, chuckling and turning my head to see if Valen had seen.

Valen's fingers brushed my own and I almost dropped my glass in surprise. With an apologetic smile, he took the empty drink from me. Almost immediately, a grey drow with obvious human heritage appeared suddenly by his side, placing the empty drinks on the crowded tray vicariously balanced in hand, before continuing on his path to the bar.

And then, ever so suddenly, Valen was being led away by a beautiful drow draped in scarves, one such length of bright red silk wrapped around the back of his neck.

I saw the widening of blue eyes and then he was gone, my surprised bark of laughter drowned out by another swell in the music.

I felt a pang of something, something that I didn't even have time to digest before I too was being shuffled forward by two more women. They'd linked their bare arms through my own, all high cheekbones and mischievous eyes. I lent towards the shorter one's neck in an attempt to identify the lovely fragrance on her skin.

I should have realised immediately that something wasn't quite right, as I let them lead me forward to join in the revelry. But it felt right in the moment, as the music spun around me, lifting my feet and my spirits.

I laughed in amazement, realising the scent coming off the woman was simply sugar, powdered across her decolletage.

I closed my eyes, letting them and the music direct me; hands in mine, on the small of my back, my hips.

I swayed with them, lifting my arms in the air, body moving like an uncoiling rope. The joy was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, and all at once I was dancing; one with the music, one with every crazy person in this place.

There was suddenly a drink in my hand and I opened my eyes to thank Valen. As I took an immediate sip I realised that the tiefling was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the collective voice of my parent's, lecturing me on taking drinks from strangers. But I guess they'd never had this drink before.

It was another of the violet cocktails; all the brighter from the lights cast throughout the room. This one was sweeter than the last, floral flavours swirling through my mouth and warming my stomach as I swayed with the crowd.

The music felt like a drug bringing me higher, higher until my mind buzzed with pure joy. I felt as if my soul would shine so bright that my skin would start to glow like my aura would become visible.

And I looked down at myself and laughed because it very much was.

I looked up to find Valen and tell him, and then a drow helpfully took my glass.

Then his hands were in my hair, unfastening the cloth that held it back and I was leaning into his warmth. His eyes were on fire and my skin was on fire, and I let the music spin me in a circle, hair billowing out. When I turned he had tied the ragged cloth — in stark contrast to his sparkling bangles — around his wrist. A flash of teeth and he was reaching for me once more.

Laughing, I spun away again, my feet gliding along the floor as I felt hands reaching for me. I turned towards them.

"Valen!" I exclaimed in delight.

And then he was there and I was there, and he was glowing and I was glowing.

It was perfect.

This was dancing and art coming to life. Strong pointed moves didn't matter here. All that mattered was the person in front of you.

And the person in front of me leant forward to say something. I closed my eyes, moving my hips with the music.

I couldn't hear him, but that didn't matter. Who needed words when you could dance?

But it must have been bad because he wasn't dancing, and how could you not be moving? But then his hand was on my back and I smiled as Valen began leading me further onto the dancefloor.

But then the crowd started to think and I realised we were going the wrong way.

Then he was pushing open the door.

And then suddenly we were spilling out into the dark and the cold and the quiet.

Our glowing skin was casting shadows throughout the street and I lifted an arm in awe, already turning to re-enter the public house because surely this was a mistake? But then Valen's hands were on my shoulders and he was tucking his head towards me.

I leant forward, eyes fluttering closed and breath shaking, but he held me firmly in place; an arm's length away.

I opened my eyes wide, sobered by his rigidity when all I wanted to do was sway and move and enjoy our last night alive.

But his eyes showed the kind of gentle concern that brought to mind someone else's, and that flash of memory — blue eyes turning brown — was almost enough to sober me.

Valen left his hands on my shoulders and spoke with such a soft voice that I felt his words calming the electricity in my muscles, more by the way they were said than the actual words. It felt as if I were wrapped in a blanket of his caring.

And then his words seemed to finally pierce the haze of my mind, and I realised that, yes; yes I was hungry. And then he was leading me away from the revelry and colours and life, and towards the promise of food.

NOTEBOOK EXTRACT

The following is in Jane's handwriting.

Muse's Verity

Well.

This cocktail is an off-menu speciality of Lith My'Athar, intended to be consumed on the eve of battle.

Along with offering the drinker a sensation of extreme mirth and merriment, (ie a magical fucking high) it can grants 30 minutes of telepathy to those already magically inclined.

I guess if I ever wondered if I could take up spellcasting; my lack of telepathic abilities with the drink was my answer.

Apparently, as the liquid is highly volatile, (what's in it is apparently a close kept secret) batches of Muse's Verity are only good for 24 hours from when they are made. Anyone who consumes it after this point is at risk of becoming immediately intoxicated, feebleminded, and then to top it all off - experience a killer hangover the next morning.

If prepared properly, the effects don't last long and no hangover is experienced.

This is followed by a list of the ingredients she thinks was in the drink; in an obvious attempt to try and replicate the beverage.

Author's Note:

Thanks again everyone for your reviews and feedback, definitely taking it on board. I heard more Valen was wanted and I hope this chapter delivered. (Hope you're enjoying the slight change of pace.)

Thought I'd share this chapter early as it's a slightly shorter one than usual. More to come soon :) Really looking forward to the next couple of chapters; its what made me want to write this.