Chapter Five
Concerning Magic

Charles was chained in darkness. Around him was the foul, pungent smell of the dank and moldy cell. He heard the scurrying and scuttling of what he could only hope was rats. Then he heard something else. It was a steady smacking sound, as if something rubbery was slapping against the stone wall of the next prison cell. A raucous croaking began.
"Slaad King SO hun-ger-y! Mage-mens is trick-er-y!" The Slaad gargled out in his own native tongue. "Mmm-mmm, I smell man-flesh! Squelch! Squelch!"
Charles shuddered in revulsion, remembering his last encounter with the horrid, white Slaad.

Finally Eliza stirred from her meditation, turning to stare at him with a strange intensity in her dark eyes. Sinister Dexter backed away from her as far as the rock would allow, unsure of what effect the magical scroll might have on her.
"It's been within me all along," she was saying, in a voice filled with wonder. "I just never wanted to see it before."
"Look, I don't know anything more about this. I suggest we try to find some way out of her..." Dexter's words fell on deaf ears. He stopped speaking when he saw Eliza standing on the rock, arms outstretched and eyes closed as if in communion with nature. The roaring water beneath her feet slowly receded until it was no more than a still pool. The waterfall slowed to a trickle, and quiet descended upon them. Sinister Dexter fidgeted nervously with his monocle. He was a minor trickster and practitioner of what he euphemized as "dishonorable combat," but this magical power over nature was completely foreign to him. "I see something in the rock wall," he said, his sharp eyes spotting a darker spot previously hidden by the waterfall, indicating a recess.
"Come," said Eliza, stepping down into the pool. The water gently lapped around her ankles. They found a narrow fissure in the rock and had to squeeze through it sideways. It opened up after about three feet into utter blackness, but Sinister Dexter produced magical motes of light that danced around them and lit their way.
By the soft glow, they could see that they were in a rough cave. Even with the lights, it was difficult to navigate, coming frequently to what seemed like a dead end only to find that the passage continued higher up along the wall, each jumble of rocks either a blockage or a hidden opportunity.
After an hour of climbing over rough stone, Eliza's hands were scraped and bleeding. Sinister Dexter belatedly offered her a pair of gloves that magically sized to fit her hands. As Eliza nodded her thanks and stopped to pull them on, Sinister Dexter sent one of his lights floating up toward the ceiling, looking for alternative passageways.
"This may lead nowhere," he reasoned. The gnome was tired and sore, and liked dark, wet caves about as much as Eliza.
"It leads somewhere," Eliza said stubbornly. She was standing still in the darkness, as if listening for something.
"You don't know that," Sinister Dexter insisted.
"Yes, I do. Put out your lights for a moment." The gnome grumbled, but reluctantly complied. Immediately they were thrown into pitch blackness--almost. The wall up ahead to their right was still faintly visible. Eliza could see slightly lighter areas where the stones jutted out. They were being lit from above. Sinister Dexter caught on and headed for the lighter area, calling back the magical luminescence to guide him.
"Just because light can get in doesn't necessarily mean that we can get out," he reminded her.
"We'll see about that," Eliza retorted. The climbed up along the wall and found a crawlspace higher up. As luck would have it, it opened into a tight compartment that could be crossed by wiggling on their bellies over a large, flat rock. A few more months, and I'd be stuck in here, Eliza thought wryly. She dropped out of the cave first, into a moonlit field of wildflowers. The stars wheeled in the sky, brighter and closer than she had remembered them. The moon, too, looked large and heavy, almost as if she could reach up and touch it. Eliza breathed in the fresh air and turned to see Sinister Dexter tumble out of the cave's opening and squint suspiciously at his surroundings.
"The stars don't look right," he said immediately. He took out his monocle and put it on again, backwards this time. "Nope," he said. "They still don't look right."
After a moment, Eliza had to agree with that assessment. She had spent many nights as a child looking up at the stars, and she knew the constellations well. These did not look at all familiar. "We have traveled far," she said simply, and began walking through the field towards a line of trees.
Sinister Dexter ran after her to keep up. "Then where are we going?"
Eliza didn't turn around. "I don't know," she admitted, "but I'm not going to stand around all night in a field."
They reached the trees and emerged into a thick and pungent wood. The trees were larger than any other Eliza had ever seen, though their branches filtered in the moonlight. The musky smell of the wood and moss and earth was unusually strong, but it wasn't an unpleasant odor.
After a time, they stumbled upon a wide path, a welcome sight for both of them. They had followed the path for about forty minutes when the gnome spotted lights bobbing up ahead.
"Probably just travelers," Eliza said when he pointed them out. "Maybe they can tell us where we are."
"At night?" The gnome said suspiciously.
"_We're_ traveling at night," she reminded him. "Listen, I hear voices." They stopped in their tracks and fell silent. Now they could hear it clearly--far-off shouts, laughing and music, as if a large group of revelers were rambling towards them. "Let's get off the road," Eliza suggested. The gnome didn't have to be told twice.
They climbed up a hillock overlooking the road and crouched behind a tree, waiting. A few minutes later, the group approached. A mob of strange creatures, some half-human, half-horse, some with a human torso and the legs of a goat, others exotic beauties who for the most part resembled human women, came cavorting down the road. Some were dancing, some were staggering, but they all held torches and sang a drinking round, their words all but indistinguishable by the frequent slip-ups and peals of merry laughter.
Eliza stood up. "Excuse me!" she called out. Nobody seemed to hear her. "Excuse me!" she shouted again, over the din. The revelers stopped and looked up. "Do you know where The Forest of Andalast is?" she asked.
A goat-legged man with horns curling out of his wild hair stepped forward. "You are far from the Forest of the Lady," he said. "Will this lovely creature join our revels tonight? We have much food and drink, and entertainment."
Eliza shook her head. "I'm looking for a group of travelers. A man, a dwarf, and an elf. I don't suppose you've seen them?"
"I regret that I cannot help you in that matter, fair lady," said the creature. "But if you will not stay, perhaps I can still help you find your way back home."
"I would be grateful for any assistance," Eliza said sincerely.
"However, there is a small price you must pay," said the goat-man.
"Name your price."
"Your companion, cowering behind that tree."
Eliza instinctively looked back to where Sinister Dexter was crouched. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your companion offends our sensibilities," the creature continued. "He has no place in this world, or any other--except perhaps the Bottomless Pit or the smoking rifts of Gehenna."
Eliza had never heard of Gehenna, but it didn't sound like a nice place to be. Now she was in a quandary--on one hand, she wouldn't mind being rid of the unscrupulous gnome. But he had done nothing to her except help her. How could she repay him by giving him up to these perhaps equally questionable drunkards? And could she even trust their help, once given? "I will not betray my companion, regardless of where you think he deserves to go," she said strongly and clearly. "If you won't help me, I'll find my own way."
The goat-man smiled at her and handed her a tankard. "Good answer."
Eliza took the tankard reluctantly, smelling a sweet nectar within. "Keep following the road until you come to the river. There you may have to wait for several days, but a ship bearing the name _Kallisti_ will arrive to guide you home. This nectar shall be your payment to the captain."
"Thank you," Eliza said.
"Fare thee well, dear lady. The revelers are becoming restless; we must be moving on." The goat-man winked at her and disappeared into the mob, which immediately took up its song again and staggered on through the woods.
"You can come out now," she told the gnome sharply. Sinister Dexter emerged from behind the trees, brushing dirt off his coat with an overly dignified air.
"I must say, you handled them well," he praised her. "Even I wouldn't have been quite sure that satyr's words were a test, at first."
"Of course I knew it was a test," Eliza lied. "Otherwise, you'd be off to the smoking rifts of Gehenna by now."
"How fortunate I was to find such a charitable and trustworthy traveling companion," Sinister Dexter grumbled.

Two days later, they came to the banks of a wide, placid river. Along its banks was a large temple filled with columns and caryatids, seemingly abandoned but still intact. Eliza and Dexter found it a comfortable place to wait, and food was in plenty. Though Eliza had lost her bow, they found ample sustenance from the fruit trees that grew along the riverbank.
Finally, as twilight descended for the second time since their arrival at the temple, they spotted a glint of gold through the trees. Climbing down the steps to the bank, they could clearly see the prow of a ship gliding towards them, making no disturbance in the water. It was almost as if it were floating above it. The prow was golden in color, the moonlight glinting off of it. The galleon approached, making not a sound, and stopped in the water in front of the temple. The word _Kallisti_ was painted prominently on the side. Eliza waved her arms, seeing some of the crew on deck. A skiff was lowered over the side, and a man jumped lightly into it, so gracefully that the little boat hardly rocked at all. Several others dropped into the boat and rowed it to shore.
Eliza held out the tankard the satyr had given her. "I am Eliza, a traveler from a distant land. I was told that you could help me find my way home."
The captain, or so Eliza assumed from his fine dress and dignified bearing, took her hand and kissed it. He was slender and wiry, but there was nothing frail about his appearance. His features were vaguely elf-like, but also suggestive of a fox, and his dark burnished skin and wild mane of coppery hair added to that effect. "I am Astesion," he said. "I travel the River Oceanus and its tributaries, trading goods and tales with those I meet along the way. I know every portal, conduit and vortex between here and Hades, and I am sure I can guide you to your homeland, dear lady.
"However, you and your companion are welcome to remain onboard the _Kallisti_ for as long as you choose." His eyes twinkled as he said, "You may become enchanted by the sights along your journey." He took the tankard from her and took a drought, then handed it back still half-full, his hands brushing hers.
Eliza followed him into the boat, thinking it would indeed be wonderful to travel the River Oceanus. _I think I may already have become enchanted by the sights along my journey_, she thought guiltily. _And it's not the scenic landscape that's caught my eye_.

The poor boy's nerves were shot. The wretched Slaad wouldn't stop croaking in its horrible tongue. Charles' head hung morosely over his scrawny chest as the tears continued to form upon the rims of his eyelids.
"Slaad King wanna be fre-e-ee! So let Slaad outta here ple-e-ease! Rip down the bars, oh yes sir-e-ee! And feed on the flesh of little boy-oy-eez!" The croaking was always followed by the banging on bars and stone walls. Charles wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He closed his eyes and tried to bring to mind a happier place and time... a time before the darkness.
"Mmm-mmm- Youse smell good, man-flesh! Squelch! Squelch!"
Off in the distance, a heavy door slammed shut. Charles lifted his head in the utter darkness, thinking he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. At last, a flood of orange-yellow light shot through the cage-like bars of the dungeon cell. The lad heard the grunt of a pig and the sound of a cage door opening, followed by the rapid croaking and gulping of the Slaad. The pig set up a frantic squeaking and squealing... which was cut short by the loud sharp snapping and crunching of bone, accompanied by the rattling of chains.
"Mmm-mmm... " crunch! Crunch! CRUNCH! gulp! Gulp! SQUELCH! The terrible sounds continued to echo throughout the dank dungeon. Charles almost missed the croaking and banging; he heard the cage door slam shut again, and then the goblin was standing before his own cell.
"Mealtime!" Grubsuckle called out teasingly. The pot-bellied goblin wore an old leather satchel slung over his shoulders and a patchwork of castoff leather clothing. An iron-shod club dangled from a rusty steel ring attached to the creature's worn leather belt. Grubsuckle held a ring of keys in one hand and a lit torch in the other. He set the burning light in an iron sconce upon the wall, inserted one large rusty key into the heavy lock, and turned it until the tumblers gave a loud click. The duckfoot pushed the cage door open and pulled a grimy wooden bowl down out of a small alcove-niche cut into the stone wall. He slid the wooden vessel into Charles' dungeon cell with his dirty foot and regarded the boy.
Charles gathered what little strength he possessed and rushed out from the wall which anchored the long, heavy chains shackled to his wrists, yelling at the top of his lungs as he charged down upon the goblin. The chains pulled the lad up just short of the cheerfully-grinning creature, jerking Charles to a painful stop. Grubsuckle pushed the human boy backwards, forcing him to sit down hard upon the filthy stone floor. Casually, he reached down to his satchel, unfastened it with his grubby fingers, and dumped the contents into the wooden bowl. More than a dozen plump and white, wriggling stink-grubs churned within the filthy bowl.
The ugly creature plucked one clinger-on from the pouch, inspected it carefully, and put it to his hideous, blue-black lips. Charles watched as Grubsuckle proved true to his name and bit the fat grub's head off... and sucked out the sweet nectar within. The lad's stomach roiled in disgust as the goblin popped the dilapidated carcass into his eager mouth and chewed it noisily.
"Ah, yes!" The goblin commented brightly. "The off-white ones are always the tastiest!" The boy gagged reflexively, which caused him to cough and heave. By the time Charles had recovered, Grubsuckle had re-locked the cell door and departed with the torch, leaving the lad in darkness once more, alone with his meal. The crunching in the next cell continued for some time.

Eliza stood at the prow of the _Kallisti_, staring at the river that stretched out like a black ribbon blotted by starlight. As smooth as velvet, the current carried them along. She found it difficult to believe that Sinister Dexter was truly seasick, but whatever had kept the obnoxious gnome below deck for the last two days, Eliza was grateful for it. He had been at odds with the halfling crewman called Sicxlemire the entire time. They had both so exhausted their considerable verbal arsenals that they had finally resorted to calling each other "Shorty." Besides that, the trip had been pleasant so far. All of the crew members were friendly and personable, with the sole exception of the first mate, a strange, cloaked figure named Kosikko-kiro, who had not spoken a word to her since she'd boarded the ship. Sicxlemire had called him a githzerai, and spoke highly of his skill with blades.
She heard the soft pad of bare feet behind her, and she turned to see Sicxlemire approaching, a loaf of bread in one hand and a flagon in the other. "I'm just having a little snack," he said amiably as he flopped down and untied the bag on his belt. "Care to join me?"
Eliza shrugged. "I'll have a slice of bread, thanks." The halfling started pulling pastries, cheese, fruit, fully cooked fish marinated in wine sauce, whole turkeys roasting in their juices, and several bottles of spirits out of the bag.
"Just bread? Really?" Sicxlemire sounded disappointed. "Well, then I guess I'll just have to eat the rest of it all by myself."
"How do you fit all of that in that little bag?" Eliza asked, incredulous. "And how do you fit it all inside of _you_?" The halfling, despite his gluttony, was not a pound overweight.
"Oh, well, I actually have two of these bags," Sicxlemire explained. "They're really just like little portals into extra-dimensional space. They do have their limits, though. I couldn't fit all of my stuff into one bag, so I swallowed one of them. It's in my stomach."
"Are you joking?"
"No, no," the halfling assured her. "The only problem is, if I want to actually get nutritional value from what I eat, I have to inject it into me." He pulled out one last thing from the bag- a case full of needles and different colored little vials.
Eliza shuddered. "Have you seen Astesion?" she asked, changing the subject.
Sicxlemire was too busy stuffing his face to answer immediately. Finally he choked down a turkey leg and responded, "I think he's in his cabin. He likes to write music."
"Really?" Eliza paused and considered that for a moment. "I've never heard him play anything, or even sing."
The halfling looked thoughtful. "Well, he doesn't any more... not since the incident. He doesn't do a lot of things he used to do, like cast spells and turn into a pillar of flame. Of course, the ability to turn into a pillar of flame isn't necessarily all the useful when you're on a boat." He began arranging the turkey bones into a rather intricate little model of a pyre, using the skins to represent the flesh of a burning man. "I like boats. Not many of my kind do."
Eliza hated dragging information out of Sicxlemire; half the time he got distracted by something else and forgot what he was talking about, permanently. Still, who else could she ask? The githzerai? The rest of the crewmen were generous enough, but they were clearly drifters, and Eliza doubted that they knew much. "What do you mean, 'the incident'?" she asked after waiting a sufficient time for the halfling to resume his rambling. "If Astesion doesn't mind you telling me, what kind of creature is he, anyway?"
"He's a Firre Eladrin."
"A...what?" Sicxlemire started chowing down on an eclair. "An Eladrin, I think people from your world call them `angels.'" He squeezed some of the filling out of the pastry and slathered it onto the deck, making a smiley face. "I like the cream, but they always put too much in it, you know? I hate that."
"Come on, you're going to have to do better than that," Eliza chided him. "An angel? He doesn't look like an angel. He doesn't even have wings. Aren't angels supposed to have wings?"
The halfling laughed uproariously. "Oh, he gave up his divinity a long time ago. Now he's mortal just like the rest of us. Heh heh heh!" Custard flew out of his nose.
Eliza didn't find it funny at all. She felt a creeping sensation in the pit of her stomach, and though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question, she had to ask. "Did he do something wrong?"
"Oh, I don't know. I probably shouldn't talk about that. Wrong? Not according to human standards, I wouldn't say. But you know celestials. Well, maybe you don't. Needless to say, giving up your immortality is highly frowned upon in some circles, no matter what the reason for it is."
"Well, if he doesn't want you to tell me, then..."
Eliza's words were interrupted as a jolt shook the ship, spilling the halfling's drink. He dove for the flagon as Eliza was thrown to the deck. She stopped her fall with her hands and crawled over to the rail, hanging on as the ship jolted again. "What's happening?" she yelled as Sicxlemire slid away from her. She had gone boating on the lake before and had once been caught in a storm, but this was not like that. The river was still placid, the wind calm.
"I don't know!" the halfling shouted back. "But I think we're being tunnel-jacked!" Before Eliza could ask what the hell that meant, Astesion emerged from his quarters to shout orders at his crew, which was scrambling to keep the ship on course as another shock wave sent the _Kallisti_ spinning. Sicxlemire had recovered from the shock of losing his ale and was up the rigging with his spyglass. Astesion crossed the deck, practically dancing across its surface to keep his balance, over to where Eliza still knelt, clutching the rail.
"Eliza! Are you alright?" He held out his hand to help her up. Perfectly balanced, the strange storm could not displace him, even with Eliza clinging to him.
"I'm okay," she said shakily. "What's going on?"
"Recently activated vortices. It could be completely random, but it's entirely possible that someone or something is trying to pull us through a portal into another plane of existence."
"Is there any way to avoid it?" Eliza asked.
"We have been avoiding the vortices so far, but they are getting more and more concentrated." His words were illustrated by another severe jolt which Astesion managed to ride out. "If we do find ourselves in a hostile environment, I may need your help. Can you use your power over the elements?"
"How did you... you want me to help?" There was a surprised note in her voice. Astesion seemed almost flustered.
"Well, of course it's your choice. If it is too draining, I understand..."
"No!" Eliza said. "No, I mean, I'm just... not used to being asked for help, that's all." _What a stupid thing to say_, Eliza scolded herself silently.
"Captain!" came Sicxlemire's call from above. "There's something up ahead--a whirlpool, it looks like!" There was a pause. "You know what? I think it's an astral conduit."
Then all words were lost as the current pulled them into a roaring vortex of energy. Bright lights danced in their eyes and the ship spun out of control. Time seemed to stop.
Then--shouts, and steel flashing. Sicxlemire was down on the deck, violently vomiting up the contents of his bag of holding. Astesion was cutting down some strange creature dropping down onto the deck, its yellow face contorted with battle lust. Kosikko-kiro was right beside him, both blades bloodied and shining in the strange silvery light. They and three other crew members formed a circle around her to keep her from harm, falling into a dance of spinning swords.
Somebody was shouting, "Githyanki! Githyanki!" All around them the forms were dropping onto the deck. The rest of Astesion's crew were trying to fight their way over to him, cutting down one Githyanki only to be faced with two more. Eliza heard the screams of the dying, and looked for Sicxlemire. The halfling was scooting towards her between the legs of the combatants, unnoticed until one githyanki, in an unoccupied moment, looked down and spotted him. Snarling, he raised his sword over the scrambling halfling with a cruel smile.
Eliza's mouth opened in denial, but no sound came out. Guided by instinct alone, she called forth the power that she knew was hers to command. The githyanki's sword suddenly morphed into the form of a serpent and struck back at it's wielder, biting him in the cheek with glistening fangs. Sicxlemire made it the last few feet and dove into the circle, liberating his eclair onto Eliza's boots.
The halfling was up in a second. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "I feel better now." He drew his punch daggers and darted into the fray, past one of the crewmen. Eliza saw him hamstring an unsuspecting githyanki warrior and somersault away as a huge sword came arcing down toward his neck. Sicxlemire twisted his body and changed direction, springing over the sword and launching a flurry of blows with his daggers. The dying githyanki stumbled, out of the fight, but another sword came lashing toward the halfling's head. He threw himself under the falling githyanki, taking comfort that his shield had served him well as he felt the corpse take another hit. Then the halfling was moving again, out of sight before his attacker could retract his sword from his fallen ally.
Astesion and Kosikko-kiro continued to hold their attackers off, but one slipped past another crewman's defenses and sent him sprawling toward Eliza, blood staining the deck from a grievous wound in his side. Instinctively, she bent down to see to the man's wounds, only to look up and see the fine edge of a githyanki sword in line with her face and coming toward her with terrifying speed. Suddenly the blade was intercepted--twice. Astesion and Kosikko had simultaneously parried with their off-hand weapons, and without any conscious thought, it seemed, skewered the githyanki from two sides.
Still, Eliza couldn't take too much comfort in her companions' display of skill. It would take more than the two of them to guard her from this seemingly never-ending supply of enemies. Of the original three crewmen who had completed the circle of blades, one had been slain, one had been replaced, one was wounded, and the other two were sorely pressed. She was vulnerable.
Eliza stanched the bleedingcrew man's wounds as best she could and drew forth healing energy from her fingertips, mending the internal injuries first. It was all she could do. He would live, but he would not fight again this day. She picked up his sword, the weight and length of it unfamiliar to her. She didn't plan on rushing into the melee, but she felt braver with it in her hand.
Suddenly, Eliza was aware of a commotion on deck outside their slowly collapsing defensive circle. There were bodies heaped everywhere, the bloodbath claiming many of Astesion's crew. Four remaining men were fighting back-to-back, desperately trying to push through to get to their captain. Sicxlemire seemed to be everywhere at once, launching devastating attacks and then springing away before his enemies could catch him. But what caught Eliza's attention was another creature that had joined the fight- a monstrous humanoid with a great sword that seemed to dance of its own accord. At first the sight filled her with dread, until she realized the creature was targeting githyanki. Its blade leapt for their enemies' throats as if it had a bloodlust of its own, hacking off heads with the ease of a scythe cutting through tall grass.
The githyanki began shouting and scrambling away from this new menace. They took up crossbows and floated up into the sky, raining missiles down on the behemoth. The githyanki were excellent shots. Not a single bolt flew off course. Not a single bolt hit its target. "Muahahahaha!" roared the giant, in an incongruously squeaky voice. "You cannot defeat me with common bolts and arrows!"
"Wizard!" she heard one of the githyanki shout, a cry that was fast taken up by the others. Sinister Dexter, Eliza thought, wondering if he knew what the hell he was doing, suddenly trying out valor at a time like this. Was the vorpal sword just an illusion, too? The decapitated heads on the deck seemed real enough, but she'd heard that illusions could produce real results if one believed in them strongly enough.
Looking around, Eliza realized that the fighting around her had stopped. Astesion and his crewmen were surrounded, but the githyanki did not press the attack. She stepped up to him and caught his eye. His face was calm, but she sensed a flicker of dread in his eyes. She followed his gaze upwards and saw the ship. It was enormous, floating in a fog of empty space. Dark figures loomed above them at the rail, and slowly the great ship opened its maw to draw the _Kallisti_ toward it, hooked by silver cords.
"Astral raiders," he whispered to her, and strode forward. "I am the captain of this ship," he called out. "I ask the right to negotiate with your leader."
The fog parted momentarily around a tall form in the center of the crowd along the githyanki ship's rail. Dressed in ornate armor, a helm covered his face and a silver sword flashed in his hands. "We want your vessel and one of your crew members. There will be no negotiation if the rest of you wish to live."
Eliza braced herself, waiting for the sentence of death. She told herself rationally that she could not fault Astesion for giving her up, having known her for less than a week. She wouldn't _let_ him harbor her, even if he wanted to.
But it never came to that. The silver knight continued, "We have no quarrel with your kind, captain. Give us the githzerai and your vessel, and the rest of you will be cut adrift."
Eliza looked at Kosikko-kiro, who was staring out from underneath his hood with eyes blazing in quiet defiance. "Know that the honor of a githyanki is as worthless as an Abyssal contract," he said to Astesion. "You must be ready." The githzerai stepped forward, drawing a sword. "I will come willingly, but I will not surrender," he said in a tone thick with stubborn resolution. "I challenge your ship's champion to a duel."
The knight was silent for a moment. "I am my ship's champion," he said, as Kosikko had anticipated. The haughtiness of githyanki knights was legendary among his kind; he could not, with his twisted sense of honor and pride, refuse such a challenge. "I accept."
"What's he doing?" Eliza whispered to Astesion as Kosikko-kiro agilely walked the silver cord up to the deck of the githyanki ship.
"Decapitating the enemy force," Astesion whispered back. "Hopefully."

A dozen fair folk gathered around the moonlit pool located atop the rounded hillock. Queen Estaria had sent them back out in search of confirmation as to the identity of Ulendil's assassin, soon after the Chosen One's rescue. Their search had turned up no more clues since the insubstantial rumors of the simple farmer folk of the small village of Lomm, and yet they were long since overdue in reporting back to their queen. The young cleric stepped forward, knelt down before the natural rock cistern which captured the water and formed the pool. She began to intone the hallowed words of the divine spell; it came, at last, to a final crescendo, and Aurilea released her enchantment and gazed into the pool of clouded water. An unnatural calm settled over the site and the elven folk watched in silence as the pool of murky liquid grew crystal-clear. It took on a mirror-like quality, reflecting the light of moon and stars with far more luminescence than before.
Queen Estaria was fit to be tied. The restless lady paced the span of her sylvanesque atrium in obvious anxiety. It was the third day following the disappearance of her human charge, she to whom all signs pointed as being the prophecy mother, the Chosen One. The lush and beautiful courtyard was centered by a raised stone dais, upon which rested the Greenstone Fountain, The fountain had been lovingly and intricately carved by the hands of the first elves, millennia past, into a myriad of beauteous and ever-changing scenic depiction, from a time when the world was still young. The awe-inspiring fountain was also the Queen's main source of information. For several days now, the font's silence had preyed upon her nerves, and yet she had refused to use the artifact to contact her people afield, fearing she might draw undue attention to them, thereby placing them in danger.
All-at-once, a hush descended upon the atrium and the elf queen heard the call of her people emanating from the enchanted stone fountain. She moved forward and peered into the clear and blessed waters of the font. At first there was nothing but her own perfect reflection and that of the moon and the stars above... then the watery image swirled and swam out of focus... and then another crystal-clear image took shape within the fountain's shimmering depths. "Aurilea?" the queen breathed in relief. "What news? Have you confirmed the rumors?"
"No, majesty," the cleric replied, "we have not." Two more images took shape opposite the elven cleric, Shidamae and Sansorin. They looked grave and deeply troubled.
"We have failed to discover any further evidence which supports the rumors and reports of dark elf activity anywhere in the region, your highness," Sansorin replied grimly.
"And no raids have taken place upon Lomm, or any other neighboring villages, my queen," the cleric chimed out in a lilting voice.
"But we are ready to resume our vigil, majesty," Shidamae concluded, "... at your command. Though I must admit, we grow ever more doubtful with each passing day."
"No," Estaria replied at last. "We have suspected Ulendil's assassin to be the foul sorcerer all along, or perhaps some unknown agent associated with vin Drako. I am convinced that this was but a ruse of the sorcerer's, or... if dark elves truly ventured to the surface, that they have returned once more to their own lightless realm.
"This search has come to its conclusion for the time being. And other matters are pressing. The woman Eliza has gone, disappeared... and all attempts to locate the Chosen One, thus far, have failed. We suspect she went out through the mirror portal in the gardens, but we cannot be sure, yet that does not account for the fact that we cannot divine her whereabouts.
"We have been unable to get any information whatsoever from the sorcerer, himself; he is refusing to respond in any way to our interrogations. And so he remains imprisoned.
"There was also some trouble with my consort-- DeLuirien. It seems he was poisoned by an unknown intruder and rendered helpless by the toxin while at study within the Archives, then gagged and restrained, and hidden away inside a storage closet for some time... despite the fact that many, myself included, recall seeing and speaking with him after he claims to have lost consciousness. He claims to remember none of it.
"And worse still... the prophecy scroll has disappeared as well. I can only assume that it, too, has something to do with the Chosen One's departure, which may well be no coincidence to the absence of our elusive and mysterious intruder."
Utter dismay was obvious on the distant trio of fine-featured faces reflected in the scrying pool. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment before returning their gazes to their queen.
"What is your will, highness?" Shidamae asked at last.
Queen Estaria gazed back into the determined eyes of her faithful subjects, a warmth rising within her bosom. "You will go to the Hellspire and seek out your pale brother, Parethiel, who guides the Chosen One's companions into imminent danger," the elf queen instructed. "Once found, you will keep close watch over them, aiding them in times of need... and awaiting the return of the Chosen. She is the key... and must be kept safe and out of the clutches of those who serve darkness... vin Drako is not the only one who shall seek out the power she bears. Go now, my brave folk, and know our hearts and hopes travel with you... for the good of our race and all others, go... and may the fates smile down upon you... "
"As you command, your majesty," a dozen elven voices replied as one. The font swirled again and went cloudy, and the moon and stars returned, reflected brightly from the waters of the Greenstone Fountain.
Queen Estaria descended the gray stone dias and swept gracefully out of the courtyard, and ascended the polished wooden steps-- set beneath the beautiful, scroll-worked eaves and rafters of the rooftop, which led back into the royal palace.

On board the _Kallisti_, fifteen githyanki warriors encircled Eliza and her companions, except for Kosikko-kiro, on the enemy ship, and Sicxlemire, who had disappeared. Their weapons had been confiscated by their captors, but holding the githyankis' attention was the duel that was about to begin between the silver knight and his hated racial enemy.
The knight stalked around Kosikko, issuing taunts to drive him into a rage. The githzerai didn't comply. He circled patiently, one blade drawn and ready, until the knight snarled and came forward, silver sword flashing. Kosikko wore no armor, and doubted it would protect him much from that sword, regardless. The strike aimed right at his throat with blinding speed, but the githzerai was a hair quicker. He fell into a crouch as the blade whistled over his head, taking off part of his topknot. Kosikko threw his blade up, sparks flying, driving the silver knight back. The githyanki gave a nod of respect to his opponent, and Kosikko knew he would have been disappointed if the first strike had taken him out. He let the githyanki take the offensive once again, or rather, believe he was doing so, for as the knight came forward again, Kosikko deftly sidestepped into his opponent's original position, forcing him to spin around to parry the githzerai's strike.
Faster and faster came the combatants' flashing blades, fueled by an age-old hatred that ignited their movements, lending them grace and fury. Around them three githyanki lieutenants watched silently, exchanging spiteful looks with one another, each undoubtedly plotting to gain from the encounter, whatever the outcome.
"Eliza," Astesion whispered very softly, "do you see that green light swirling around over there?"
She followed the direction of his gaze and nodded. Out in the astral drift of empty space and the occasional floating chunks of rock, she could see a pool of green light, swirling in the fog like dirty laundry blown off the clothesline on a gusty day.
"When I signal, can you create a wind and blow us over to it?"
"I think so," she replied, as one of the githyanki distractedly knocked them both on the heads and told them to be quiet. Eliza waited until their captor was sufficiently engaged in watching the scene on the enemy ship, then whispered, "What about the cords?" The _Kallisti_ had been bound and grappled with thick silver lines to the larger astral vessel, and Eliza had no intention of bringing the githyanki ship with them, even if she could create a wind strong enough to do it.
"Hanging by threads," Astesion mouthed.
Eliza's brow furrowed in confusion, until she caught sight of a small dark shape skulking in the shadow of astral ship's railing. It disappeared so quickly Eliza would have thought it a trick of the eye, except for her mental connection to the fact that the halfling had mysteriously disappeared.
Indeed, even as they spoke, Sicxlemire was weightlessly scooting across the side of the ship, fraying the silver cords until just one strand remained of each. They would hold the _Kallisti_ in place for the present, to be easily severed when the time came.
Kosikko continued to clash blades with the githyanki knight, both combatants breathing harder now, but neither faltered in their step or showed any sign of yielding. The lieutenants were beginning to get impatient, the githzerai noted in the one corner of his mind that wasn't tightly focused on the battle at hand. Occasionally they would drift away from the scene to issue orders to the crew that had remained on board, still at least two score strong, and return to find the githyanki and githzerai still locked in their struggle for superiority. They'd each come close to slaying the other at least a half-dozen times, saved by a snap of the wrist or a desperate tumble.
"I noticed you favor the dual-sword style," said the silver knight. He taunted Kosikko, "Is it possible that the mighty warrior lost his other weapon?"
Kosikko snarled; to a githyanki, losing a weapon was the epitome of disgrace, and neither was it looked upon with favor among his own people. The githzerai's eyes flashed in anger and his sword, so dull and frail compared to the great silver blade, came up in an imperfect parry.
The knight saw his opponent lose focus and grinned wickedly, reeling back for a blow that shattered Kosikko's blade and sent him rolling across the deck to get some distance between the githyanki and that nasty silver sword. The knight stalked in, no longer in any hurry now that githzerai was unarmed. He kicked the pieces of the broken sword away and sneered, "Pathetic. Not even good enough for a magical blade?"
Kosikko held his ground, though his shoulders slumped in defeat. The silver sword gleamed in front of his eyes, as inevitable as death. And then, without tearing his eyes from the githyanki's visor, he snapped forward, a shimmering green blade suddenly in his hand. With a movement too quick for the eye to register, Kosikko had drawn his _zerth_ blade from a scabbard hidden by his loose-fitting clothes. Sharpened by the githzerai's own will, it shot forward and sheared through the knight's ornate breastplate as if it were butter.
"A _zerth_ never fights in anger," Kosikko-kiro said matter-of-factly to the fallen knight as he lay, mute and twitching, on the deck. "Know that it was your own spite which veiled my true intentions." He sheathed his blade, knowing he could retrieve either one of them if it was necessary, and picked up the knight's silver sword.
In outrage, the three lieutenants charged him, but changed their minds when Kosikko tossed the blade over the side of the vessel. As it floated down into the mist, the ranking githyanki jumped ship to retrieve it, and Kosikko dove off the other side, propelling himself by force of will through astral space.

Whistling a cheerful tune to himself, Sicxlemire sailed through the air, cutting the lines as he flew by them. The _Kallisti_ shuddered and rocked as the last cord was cut and immediately began drifting. The halfling somersaulted onto the deck amidst a crowd of fifteen githyanki who had suddenly taken up arms. Kosikko-kiro bore down on them at the same time, a whirlwind of fury.
"Quite a show!" Astesion shouted to Kosikko, snatching up the sword of a fallen githyanki to defend himself and Eliza. At his signal, she had begun casting, throwing her arms wide as if to catch the wind itself. The _Kallisti_ began moving, slowly at first, then picking up speed as it was thrown against the color pool that loomed ahead. When the remaining githyanki saw that they were headed straight for a portal, they leapt off the side of the ship, but not before Astesion could grab by the ankles the one who had taken his swords. He swooped down on the fallen warrior, stolen sword slashing his back.
Then everything was green. Green light bathed the area. All sound was dampened. The wind still drove itself against the ship, rocking it in its uncertain flight. Eliza could see Sinister Dexter, a gnome once more, stumble out from behind a crate where he had hidden at the first sign of trouble. The others were holding on for dear life. And then, suddenly, the ship came to a bumpy stop. A bright light flashed in their eyes, and when they could see again, they were in the middle of a thick forest. The _Kallisti_ hovered a foot off the ground, patient and still.