Chapter 15
Where is Irenicus?
John woke up with a very familiar headache and in a very familiar position. He was curled up into a fetal position, though this time his back was against glass, and his feet as well, instead of metal bars.
: Well finally! : Meri sang inside his mind, sounding irritated. : I can't work properly when you're unconscious! :
: I knew there would be a catch. What happened? : John continued to feign unconsciousness, though this didn't work very well the last time… hell, 'last time'? Had he been caught again? It seemed likely – the cat was gone, and probably frantic. John squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. Why the hell was he worrying over how the cat would feel?
: A few minutes before docking the lot of you suddenly became unconscious – sort of like a deep sleep. Or rather, all of you save one did… I couldn't feel out which one was the one who was still awake. : Meri seemed uninterested by that, but seemed bound to continue with something heartening. : I hope whoever it was got away. :
John appreciated the sentiment, but other than the vague idea that whoever got away could be coming on rescue, could not muster up any effort to feel concerned about it, with his own skin on the line at the moment. He cautiously opened his eyes, and nearly let out a sigh. : Bloody hell, this looks like some soddin' science-fiction movie! :
He was in a glass jar that would allow him to stand straight, but was just about as cramped as the cage he had first woken up in when he'd come to this world. Beyond the glass, which distorted his view a little – it was sort of like looking through a fish bowl, only less so – he could see a wide rectangular cleared surface with a tiled metal floor. As he stood up, he noticed the ominous looking cabling snaking away from under the upraised platform that his jar was on into other jars that lined the metal floor at uniform spaces – John counted about thirteen of them, and each had a human inside it.
No one he recognized, actually – but he vaguely remembered that uniform all of them seemed to be wearing. It took him a moment to realize that it was the uniform of Shadow Thieves – the black leather armor. All of them looked rather frightened, which was rather expected, given the guinea-pig circumstances.
: Will magic work on this? : John asked Meri, tapping his fingers on the glass. He was still – after all this time – acutely conscious of the fact that he had never actually wielded very powerful magic until he came onto this world. Somehow, it didn't feel right to just start using the magic spontaneously. The sound his fingers made seemed to echo loudly and repeatedly inside the container until finally fading into whispering chimes, and then nothing. John quickly snatched his fingers away before he did anything noisier.
: It's warded, it'd explode in your face, : Meri warned. Her voice seemed to take on a new urgency. : Listen, I've only been given a short time to tell you this – game rules again. In a while Irenicus is going to come and take your soul away from you. Your player rolled a right for me to inform you of this before he does it – you have to make a decision before he comes back in. :
: Decision? : John bit his lip, not bothering to waste time cursing at the obvious lack of choice and at how juvenile this 'game' was. : Right. I pull the stunt I did last time and split me soul again, I'd think. Hide the other half, and strengthen the other to make it seem whole… :
: I can do that. Which half this time? :
In the glass jar, John smirked as he prepared his mind to manipulate this sort of magic. : This time I'd keep the bastard. I'd send him my pansy side. :
: I've looked at the spell and I can do it more quickly – he's approaching the door now. : Meri's presence turned businesslike and seemed to disappear for a moment, then John felt the familiar, unpleasant sundering feeling inside – it neared a very physical pain, and it took all his control not to double over and start whimpering. It felt strange to be on the other end this time… John wondered, rather viciously, whether it'd be more fun to be the proverbial complete bastard, this time literally. : There. Your version was highly inefficient. :
: Yeah? So long as it does the damned job… : John decided not to bother trying to argue, and trailed off. Inside his mind, Meri chuckled.
To his right, he heard the noise of a door swinging open, the hinges groaning softly, then two sets of footsteps approaching. One was Irenicus, still as graceful and as arrogant as ever.
John sucked in a sharp intake of breath as he recognized the other – Yoshimo.
**
"Yoshimo?"
"Ah, you recognize him," Irenicus said in his sardonic voice, continuing before John could insert a suitably sarcastic remark. "You have him to thank for the passage here into the Spellhold – without the drugs he has been feeding into your food since he has met you and your party, it would have taken some while for you to have found your own way into the Spellhold. There was not even a need for the vampires." The last word was pronounced with aristocratic distaste.
That explained quite a bit – for one, the 'fainting' incident he had in Waukeen's Promenade. No doubt the thief had been 'experimenting' with the right amounts of sedative…
John snorted. "If you're going to gloat some more my feet are going to sleep. I've met traitors before – if you're expecting some sort of violent denial from me – you can stick that idea up your pointy-eared arse." Yoshimo flinched at the word 'traitors', and refused to meet John's eyes, but kept silent. John couldn't be bothered to ask him why.
Irenicus' eyes flashed with anger. Ah, so he didn't only have one expression… "No longer an elf, thanks to the bitch of an elf queen. She and her city are paying for what they have done to me – for making all my years of life after Suldanesselar hollow. I intend to use you to reclaim what has been taken from me."
"If it's my soul you're talking about – you're forgetting one thing. I'm human."
"The essence of a soul is a powerful thing," Irenicus said, returning to his normal, sardonic expression, seemingly patient, as if lecturing a recalcitrant child. "Especially the soul of one versed in magic, one strong-willed and who courts both life and death as you do. You are the only one of all those I have tested who lives fully for himself and no other."
"Are you going to continue talking much longer?" John remembered Entreri still had the tracking device – that should count for something, should it not?
Irenicus smirked. "If you survive this, you will be put into the lowest level of the Spellhold labyrinth, where you will rejoin your comrades and K'yanae. And, if you were wondering about this – " Irenicus held out his right hand, palm up, chanting some spell. A circle of blue light traced into existence and out again, and then Irenicus was holding a small tank of water. Submerged in it was the small box – the tracking device. Wonderful how life just seems to hit you with everything it's got all at one go…
"Saemon Havarian took the precaution of sinking it in water quite a way before you lot reached Brynnlaw," Irenicus said, "So the Black Talons, though they may find this place eventually – by that time, I would be long gone, and you lot may have been destroyed by the labyrinth. Now, to start."
He caused the tank to disappear, then began to chant sonorously, waving his hands about. John was about to check with Meri whether everything was all right, but Yoshimo cleared his throat slightly.
"I am very sorry, John Constantine," Yoshimo said in a voice that seemed anguished. "You have been a good friend…"
"To my knowledge, unless they changed the rules, good friends don't poison their friends and give up said friends to the enemy," John said coldly.
"There is a geas on me – Irenicus' doing – if I did not obey his commands, I would die – slowly and in excruciating agony."
"Yeah, that's what you all say."
"I am sorry I cannot convince you that I was under extreme duress," Yoshimo sighed. "But I am sorry."
"Heard you the first time." John deliberately turned his head away. Irenicus' chant was beginning to reach a crescendo, and John felt an insistent tug on something, for want of a better word, that could be his spirit, or soul. Theatrically, Irenicus raised his hands into the air with a shout of exultation, and the results were certainly impressive.
In all of the other tanks, the captives screamed and writhed, clawing at themselves, leaving bloody furrows with their nails, and then sank to the ground, choking. A sort of greenish haze or mist rose from their faces, twisting up to the top of the container where they abruptly vanished, as if sucked away. At the same time, Irenicus seemed to glow brighter and brighter until he resembled a new sun, tinted a pale olive green instead of vibrant gold, and John felt a dreadful wrench in his being as the halved soul tore free. Mercifully, he foundered into darkness.
**
He woke up to a well-known smell and a large, rough tongue sandpapering his face. Instinctively he pushed blindly at it, gasping curses, and his fingers sank into silky, thick fur that suddenly vibrated into a deep-throated purr. Muttering darkly about damned panthers, John rubbed his face on his sleeve and looked up blearily.
The cat purred more loudly, then shoved its nose in John's neck and pushed, rocking him to a side. "Yeah, I'm getting up in a moment," John growled at it. Satisfied, it purred again, and then rested its massive head on John's chest, resisting his efforts to dislodge it.
He was on a cold, stone tiled floor of an immense, dim-lit chamber with a high, flat ceiling, as large as a theatre. From what he could see, the chamber was in the shape of a square, and there were four wide staircases spaced neatly at intervals that led up into high exits on the walls. From the irregularity of the tiles beneath him, John guessed that it was, in all probability, patterned.
There were voices somewhere, and he had the vague impression that he should be worried, but logically, if the cat was so relaxed, they were probably friendly – friendly? There's only one you can trust, John Constantine – and that's yourself, sod it all! Relationships never work with you, and they'd never have. It'd all go to bullshit in the end. Better leave now…
: My… your 'bastard self' is even more interesting than I'd thought. : Meri made appreciative noises somewhere inside his mind.
: Sod off. : John closed his eyes, then made another effort to shove the weight off his chest. This time the cat moved obligingly, and he managed to stand up slowly.
The hollow ache had started. As he remembered it, it seemed to pool first in his stomach, as if he hadn't ever eaten since the birth of hours, and then slowly whisper upwards and make his heart seem to constrict and shrink away from the painful emptiness, the sensation of being unfinished, and finally take root in his mind. Where he was suddenly awash with vicious images.
It would be so easy to kill the rest of them with his newfound magic, or turn his back on them and run, himself, through the labyrinth. With synchronicity he'd be sure to find a way out by himself, unhampered by the rest…
Or stay with them and wait till they got him out, then find Irenicus and make the damned sod pay in blood for taking his half, create a fate for him so terrible that even in Hell it would only be whispered in awed horror. He could do it. He could do anything. He was a Constantine…
: Right, I hope you've just about finished that by now. : Meri said brusquely, and John noticed with a start that his hands seemed to be on fire, blue fire. : You do remember what you gave up, yes? Apparently you need your 'pansy' side more than you imagine. : Her voice suddenly seemed to take on an undertone of annoyance, as if she'd just understood something. : Wait. I think I can help you for a while… :
Something seemed to be filling up the emptiness. Liquid fire seemed sweep up inside his body, and his ears were filled with a harsh roaring sound. John let out a choked exclamation and looked around wildly as he realized his vision of the outside seemed to have clouded over, as if he were looking at it through badly made glass. He stumbled backwards, holding his head, wherein a thousand pinpricks of pain seemed to have blossomed like malignant flowers. : Meri! :
: I know! Something's wrong… oh right. Now that's obvious. :
"Wrong? What the fuck is wrong?" John snarled, not caring that he was shouting now and not speaking in his head. "Stop it!" His knees hit something hard, then his shoulder and he dimly guessed that he had crumpled on the ground. There were voices calling to him somewhere above him, but he couldn't make out the words or even the sounds.
: Okay, I understand it now. : The pain withdrew quickly, but Meri's voice seemed to be louder, and her presence almost palpable. The emptiness was gone, at least.
: What did you do? :
: You needed a bit more of something resembling a soul, or you might have turned homicidal or have done something just as foolish. So I stepped in a little – there's more of my essence tied with you for now… and you'd also have some of my personality. :
: So I might start talking non-stop? :
: No, it just means you'd hesitate and think before you start barging around... and though you won't be near your normal self until you get your half back by killing Irenicus, you'd be close to it. : Meri seemed smug. : You can also open your eyes now. Your friends are staring. :
John did so, and looked up into K'yanae's face. The werewolf was shaking him by the shoulders. "Eh, you can stop now, luv."
She smiled and helped him up. "What happened?"
It took him a short time to explain to the rest what had happened to him, and he also took the time to check on their… condition. Peregrine looked as unperturbed as always, though the news of Yoshimo's betrayal seemed to shock the rest. Arundel looked rather confused, and the golem was missing. K'yanae was dressed in a soft brown cotton tunic and a blue dress that ended above her knee, as well as doeskin gloves and leather boots. She had explained that the clothes had been given to her the first day she had arrived in Spellhold as a snarling wolf, along with other sets of clothing that she said was probably the old clothes of other inmates.
"What happened to you after you came here?" John asked curiously.
"Got shut in a cell," K'yanae shrugged. "The food was okay, they gave clothes and everything, but the screams tend to get on your nerves. Then one day Irenicus came and opened the door – where he promptly forced me into this room with a lot of glass jars in it that contained people. Same one you came from – and they tried to do the same thing – rip out my soul and put it into Bodhi. It worked, and the wolf had to come in full-time to fill up the void, like your… power, whatever it is, is doing for you. Got shut back into the cell, slowly feeling my mentality merge with the wolf's. If you hadn't killed Bodhi when you did, I might have found after a while that I couldn't turn back any longer – or worse, may have totally forgotten who I was."
Entreri padded up from behind her and put an arm around her waist – managing to seem both comforting and possessive at the same time, and K'yanae absently stroked his fingers, rubbing the hollows and tracing the veins. John shot a hard look at the assassin – he seemed more at ease than he had ever been in the period that he had been in the party, as if a great weight had been pulled off his shoulders. The dependence he seemed to have on the other werewolf was almost embarrassing to watch.
"Which would have been rather amusing," K'yanae smirked at Entreri. He murmured something into her ear. "Yeah well, we'd never be able to do that anymore then, would we?" The assassin chuckled, and K'yanae turned to regard him gravely with amber eyes. "When we get out of here, let's get back to solving your little problem. It's been delayed for far too long." The way she proposed to 'solve' it was clear to all as she ground her hips against his and kissed him fiercely. Entreri seemed surprised for a moment, and then returned the kiss with fervor, growling in his throat.
John exchanged helpless glances with Arundel. Peregrine shrugged, as if to say they're supposed to be like that.
: Are they? : John asked the voice in his head.
: Oh yes. : Meri seemed to smirk. : K'yanae has taken him for her mate. I thought that was obvious to you – she Changed him, after all. First she's going to have an active hand in influencing his relationship with his wolf – then they're going to hammer out the details of their relationship as mates. All of it would involve some violence and sex. They've got a wolf part of them as well as a human part. :
: Right. : John sighed inwardly. : So long as they're not going to do it right now. I'm tolerant, but not that tolerant. :
: Heh. :
K'yanae finally disengaged, the smile on her face showing that she was rather pleased with herself, and when she spoke, it was as though nothing had happened. "Right. Entreri got his collar removed – so the tracer on that is gone – which means we have no money – not that it matters here."
"We still have our armor and weapons," Arundel pointed at himself. "But you… "
"Mmmm. I think Entreri has more knives somewhere." K'yanae arched one eyebrow at the assassin.
"Throwing knives," Entreri reminded her. "You can have the jeweled dagger – I can just use the… "
"Keep your dagger," K'yanae said with a grin, refusing the proffered weapon. "I don't particularly like its properties."
"Here," Peregrine took out the daggers in her boots. "You can have both if you want."
"Actually, I have one as well," Arundel gave her a larger dagger with a blade that had a bluish sheen, and John realized he couldn't tell where on earth the elf could have hidden that. Arundel smiled sheepishly. "Usually I use that one to cut saplings whenever I have to joust – it's a wasteful but rather practical use for the always-sharp dweomer it has on it. Though wouldn't you prefer swords or something?"
K'yanae smiled. "No. I'm fine with these." She took one of Peregrine's daggers and hefted it, then raised an eyebrow. "This isn't conventional metal."
"It was forged in Kara-Tur," Peregrine admitted. "They work metal differently there. There's no magic in the dagger though."
"Thank you all the same." K'yanae looked to John, and grinned. "Where to now?"
"How am I supposed to know?" John held out his hands. "Which reminds me. Arundel, where's that golem of yours?"
Arundel grimaced. "I have no idea. Somehow they managed to take me here without it activating to protect me… though I suppose since we locked it up in the hold and set it on silent it may not have even noticed that I was gone. It's probably still in Saemon's ship."
"Can you contact it from here?" John smirked. "Get it to break a hole in the ship."
"I don't know," Arundel admitted. "I've already sent an order like that one to it – but I'm not sure if it worked. I've never been separated this much from it before." The elf seemed upset now. "I do hope it's all right."
"What could hurt that thing?" Entreri asked drily. "Weapons bounce off it, magic slides off it."
"Unless you get a deactivation device from the plane where I scavenged the technology for it… true." Arundel cheered up. "Let's get out of here, then."
"Which way?" John waved a hand at the staircases.
"Actually we haven't tried it out yet," K'yanae said, "Because before I was 'ported here by Irenicus he told me that they were going to pull the same soul-transfer thing on you… and if you survived, you would be placed where we all were at the moment. We decided to wait for you."
"If I survived," John pointed out dryly.
"I had no doubt you would." K'yanae grinned. "I survived it, after all. As to the staircases – why don't you pick one?"
John snorted. "Luv, why not you and the assassin go take a peek at all of them while the rest of us sit here?"
K'yanae and Entreri looked at each other, then Entreri shrugged. "That is feasible."
"Hmmm." K'yanae looked at Arundel's dagger with half-lidded eyes, then straightened. "Might as well." She stared at John. "Do you know you're glowing?"
John blinked, and looked down at his hands. He did seem to be giving off some soft blue light – rather like a giant firefly. : Meri! :
: What? : Meri asked crossly, as if he had interrupted her in something important. : Oh, that. Get used to it, JC. :
: JC? And what is this? :
: 'John' isn't a nice name and calling you Constantine is too formal. And the blue glow will come on whenever you're not concentrating. Think of it as a side effect. :
: There's nothing bloody wrong with 'John', thank you. : John stared at his hands until the blue winked off. Inside his mind, Meri chuckled.
When he looked back up, K'yanae and Entreri had already prowled – John could think of no better word to describe the movement – up one staircase, and after pausing at the entrance, slipped in.
**
The dungeon, following the weird logic of this world that John still failed to understand, had several locked exits which had their keys on the same level. There was a 'logical' solution to every door that could be arrived on by simply picking up every single suspicious-looking device they could find in pots, tables, even behind books in bookshelves. Said devices included (this needed some riddle solving, which Arundel seemed to be naturally good at) a half-rotted hand from a zombie that they had to kill, a shard of pink crystal, several badly-done paintings of monsters and such.
John was beginning to tire of living in a legend; especially the bits which involved voluntarily setting off devices that summoned monsters that immediately tried to kill you. In one case, had Meri not shielded the party against psionic attack in time, they would have had their brains sucked out by a disgusting creature known as a 'mind flayer' – it looked like a squid grafted onto a human. By the logic in this dungeon, you had to set off all the devices which did this, as well as figure out devices which attempted to fry you if you got one single little step wrong, so that you could get the key out to the next stage.
It was a joke.
It was way beyond a joke.
What was even funnier was the fact that everyone else in the party was seriously into trying to get out, and they didn't seem to think that dungeons that had their own keys in reach were abnormal. John wondered vaguely if this was his bastard side speaking, but thought that if it was, then his bastard side would definitely be the side that usually spoke with the voice of reason.
Eventually, after a few close scrapes, including a ridiculous one involving a giant floating blob with a huge mouth, one central eye and lots of crab-like eye-stalks (a 'beholder', Meri had said, leading John to wonder whether that popular saying 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' had some other meaning), they emerged onto what K'yanae said was the first floor. This dungeon, they had discovered, was to test inmates. Apparently if you could get out of it, you would be certified sane, harmless, and safe to put back into society, which was more stupid-logic, in John's opinion. He figured that if anyone could break out of the dungeon alone by following its stupid logic games and riddles, as well as conquering all the monsters, that person should be locked up. Or killed.
They also quickly realized that all the doors were locked, as well as those that had led to the inmates' cells. The main entrance hall, a large rectangular chamber fully carpeted in rich red and gold, had warded doors and walls against blasting spells, opening spells or lockpicking, Meri told them. As a precaution, both Arundel and Entreri verified this.
"Now what?" John growled. The cat echoed the sound, deeper and more menacing. "I bet the damned key was in the floor beneath this one."
"Well, the temptation of skipping one floor to go up to the apparent exit was just too tempting," K'yanae admitted. "We go back down, then."
**
When Entreri lockpicked the second floor door and nudged it open with his foot, he nearly hit a small, nervous-looking man in a brown monk-frock who started violently at the sight of them. Entreri also reacted immediately – in the blink of an eye, he had the tip of Vortex pressed against the man's throat. The man's eyes went wide, and then he gulped, and froze – the wisest thing to do under the circumstances. Entreri seemed to be alternating between pure savagery – the same that John had seen near Nalia's fortress – and cold control. It was as though he were regressing back to the absolute conflict between his wolf and himself – though whether this was part of werewolf custom or not, John wasn't sure and couldn't be bothered to find out.
"Good masters…" the man quavered. "I mean you no harm!"
"Who the hell are you?" Entreri growled, a wolf's growl. K'yanae winked at John, behind Entreri's back, then glided forward to put a restraining hand on the assassin's arm.
"Now, we don't go around killing people," K'yanae said smoothly, with just a trace of irony. "So if you're helpful…"
"Oh, I can be very helpful," the man said, his eyes fixed on the blade, which didn't waver from his throat. "Please?" John could nearly see him make a palpable choice between trusting his fate to the blade, or to an apparent dark elf, and settling on 'dark elf'.
"Hmmm?" K'yanae seemed to be jerked back from some reverie at his words, then she smiled, and gently pushed Entreri's arm until the assassin withdrew the blade, holding it back at a 'ready' position that managed somehow to speak of his willingness to explode into violence. "Oh, very well. What can you tell us of this place, and how can we get out?"
"Irenicus took over Spellhold…"
"We know that," Entreri growled.
The man glanced timidly to K'yanae for reassurance. She pushed back a lock of hair from her face. "Would you rather we asked you specific questions and you give us answers?"
From the look on the man's face, if K'yanae had asked him to throw himself off a tower, he would have quickly done so.
"Very well. Firstly, where is Irenicus?"
The man spun on his heel and indicated the long corridor which swept to the left and right behind him with his hand. "Inside that room."
John realized he wasn't pointing at the corridor, but at the wall. "Behind the walls?" he asked.
"Yes." The man bobbed his head up and down nervously. "It is not locked."
"Good." Entreri said.
"Hold on," K'yanae interrupted. "Would you know where the keys to the other inmates are kept?"
"I can free them," the man said, biting his lip. "But that is madness!"
"Well… according to the logic of this damned place, we can't get out of here, can we? Through the main doors?" John asked sardonically.
"No… only Irenicus can undo his wards – he told me… said I'd be entombed here forever… " the man shuddered. "He is preparing to leave by fixing up the outgoing portal block on this place to his next destination – even now he is preparing for it in the chamber."
"How'd you know he's still there, mate?"
As an illustration, then man shut up. In the silence that followed, if John strained his ears – he could barely, just barely, make out an echoing chanting in a very familiar voice.
**
"I still don't see why we're doing this," Arundel said mildly. All of them were in some luxurious meeting room, where they faced the other inmates, eight of them, all of which looked highly unstable to John. Especially the elf mage who kept screaming about werewolves – it was lucky that he didn't seem to know what Entreri and K'yanae were. The man had disappeared… not that the rest of them cared.
"Well, we need more help if we wish to defeat Irenicus, who incarcerated us here," K'yanae was projecting her voice, in all appearance speaking only to Arundel, but in actuality making sure that all of the other eight inmates could hear them. Apparently these eight were the most powerful ones – the lesser ones seemed to have been cleared out, or were dead.
"Irenicus! Irenicus will pay!" one of the inmates – a thin-looking ascetic - roared. "I see them everywhere – everywhere! Inside, upside, all around!"
"Oh, Irenicus," a small girl spoke in a piping voice. On first impression, she seemed to be a girl – but after looking at her eyes and the set of her face, John decided she probably wasn't. "I wore his face once. What he did to me…" she shivered, her little body quaking.
"I need none of you to attack him!" a dwarf snarled. "Tiax needs no one! Tiax rules all!"
"The spirits don't go near him," one woman murmured. "They're around, and inside, and through everyone else! But not him."
"Quiet!" K'yanae shouted. There was silence for a while as the uproar came to a screeching halt. "Right. We have to do this together, okay? Or we'd never get out."
"You are drow!" the elf mage said suddenly, as if finally focusing on reality. "Drow cannot be trusted!"
K'yanae rolled her eyes. "I'm half-drow, mage. My father… "
"And… and amber eyes… werewolf and drow!" the mage shrieked, taking a step forward, his eyes blazing. Even the other inmates shrank back a little.
"Tiax…" the dwarf muttered uncertainly, his bravado somewhat diminished.
"That's torn it," John heard Arundel mutter behind him.
"The important thing here is to get out," K'yanae's voice remained calm, even though Entreri was literally snarling with rage. "If you still wish to take out whatever grudge you have on werewolves – do it later after Irenicus, if we're still alive. If you're too frightened to face him and you wish to… "
"I am not afraid!" the mage snapped. "We will face this Irenicus – then, by Corellon Larethian, I swear that I will kill you!" He began to chant some sort of spell, and Entreri started forward.
: Tell them it's a portal spell, : Meri said helpfully.
John repeated as much, and Entreri subsided unwillingly. The world seemed to be dashed away by millions of tiny points of white light… and then was washed back in blue.
John blinked. They were in the same chamber he had been in, with the glass bottles. This time, the corpses in the bottles had been removed, and Yoshimo, beside Irenicus, started violently when they appeared.
Peregrine immediately drew her bow and shot an arrow at Irenicus, who appeared to be absorbed in his spell casting, his back facing them. At the same time, with Meri's suggestion and help, John cast a breach-shield spell numbly, like a puppet.
There was a red flash, and Irenicus staggered, half-turning, a movement that saved his sorry life. The arrow embedded itself high on his arm. Unfazed, Peregrine drew and shot again, but Irenicus shouted a word and held up his hand – and the arrow bounced off a shield of whirling white threads of energy. "Fools that you are, but this I had not expected." Irenicus ignored the wound and glanced around contemptuously at the inmates. "You are mad indeed to have released these."
"Tiax rules all!" the dwarf cried, and as if this was a cue, all eight began casting spells wildly. Fireworks burst on – and slithered off – Irenicus' shields, and protective, strengthening spells blossomed around the eight and the party. Yoshimo withdrew to the side, clutching at his bow uncertainly.
"Fools. You are all fools." Irenicus spat, and then also began to cast his spells. He pointed, and a green cloud engulfed the little girl – she screamed, then crumbled into ashes. Fire roared down from above, piercing the elven mage's shield with frightening ease, and roasting the mage alive. The smell was gagging, and the werewolves wrinkled their noses with twin expressions of distaste.
John watched all this dispassionately, trying to concentrate instead on spells and Meri, who had given up trying to tell him what to do and had simply taken control. Irritated, he had attempted to stop this, but she told him quite sweetly that if she made a mistake, he could suffer the consequences.
As Irenicus systematically killed off the inmates, John's fingers nearly twisted themselves into a knot in casting, and a whip, nearly searing-hot in its incandescence, sang into existence above Irenicus. It cracked on its own, and the shield broke with a spark of red. A crossbow-bolt clattered away, bouncing off another shield and the whip cracked again, though this time without any visible effect, and it dissolved into the air.
Meri – acting as John – seemed to gather up some sort of energy within him until he fairly tingled with it – and then from his mouth issued several unintelligible words. His hands reached out, his left hand's palm over the back of his right hand, and a ruby-red beam hissed forth, engulfing Irenicus. There was another spark – of white this time, and an arrow hit Irenicus' stomach.
Irenicus staggered back, clutching at the wound, and a crossbow bolt slammed into his left shoulder, spinning him back. With a hoarse cry, he somehow managed to draw out a symbol in the air – and vanished.
John let out a sharp exhalation of relief, and found that the mage battle had somehow blinded him to his surroundings. Looking around, he found that all eight inmates were dead, and not very prettily either.
There were five more bodies that seemed new – by the weapons on their hands, he guessed they had probably been more henchmen on Irenicus' payroll – and by the wounds on them, he deduced that K'yanae and Entreri were responsible for their current condition. On cue, the space between his shoulderblades felt extremely exposed. He had been unaware that the henchmen had appeared in the battle…
The rest seemed to be clustered around another body – though all of them seemed to be fine. He strolled up to them and looked down – to see Yoshimo, dying with a mortal crossbow-bolt wound.
The thief's eyes met John's, and he smiled weakly. "It is no use offering my apologies… again… but I have a last request… "
"What is it?" Arundel asked, before John could say something suitably sarcastic about there being reasons why people didn't help traitors.
"When I die… please, Lady Peregrine… lift the geas from me and let me go on to the afterlife… Irenicus has gone to… next stronghold…" Yoshimo's eyes closed, and he whispered something, then his breathing stilled.
"What did he say?" Arundel asked the werewolves. With their preternatural sense of hearing, they might have caught his last words.
"The Underdark," K'yanae's face was set in an expression if inscrutable, terrible calm. "Irenicus has portalled to the Underdark."
--
Little Notes and References:
Skipping forward: It proves that no one probably reads this bit of the 'fics, because I have warned readers that I am not following the Baldur's Gate II plot very closely. What's the point of writing fanfic that rigidly follows a prior plot? That's so boring… not to mention that since it's a computer game, writing out every single quest and development would take forever. If I had detailed on them wandering around Brynnlaw and figuring out how to get in, that could have taken at least one chapter by itself. In which case, if I count every major plot development as two chapters each (if I squeeze), the story would have twenty-five chapters or so in total, since I've already killed off Bodhi (if not, it'd probably be a tally of thirty chapters). I refuse to write twenty-five chapters for stories anymore.
Shortcuts: Yes, I also refuse to detail every single bit of the large (and irritating) Spellhold dungeon. If you want, go read a walkthrough, or better still – play the gorgeous game and riddle your way out of it. I figure this story is providing too many spoilers as it is…
