Here is the next chapter. It is a little confusing since each section is written by someone new. The speakers here are Tobias, Lita, and Roseallele. I was going to make the sections different by italicizing them, or making them bold, but decided against it as I was told it is too hard to read that way. Thus I used lines to break each section, and each section is "signed" by the writer. Hope that everyone enjoys it, for the end is very nearly in sight for this story.
Once again, and as always thank you to my reviewers: Arabwel, crazefanficboi, lord kaizar, silverwolf7, raelli1, catspaw 0913,and my random fan. More reviews, please!!! Thanks! Azrurielle
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It was mad. Mad to think that my plan had any hope of working. But no one could think of anything better. Don't get me wrong, there holes in it…a mile wide in places, I might add. But I could see that the others were considering it. It just might work, they were thinking. And why not? It seemed we were facing a hopeless task, destroying some pool of magic created by a goddess. But they were elves. Tended not to see things from an easier point of view. Kill the ringleaders Kelly had said. Smart girl. A fair sight smarter than her father was at times. But that always was Keledrial's problem…too much book learning and not enough life learning. He was too smart…but not in the ways it counted. And his bad temper is no help to his sense at all.
So it was agreed. We would try it. No other choice, they said. We could always turn back, I thought. But no one would do that and I could well understand why. It wasn't just saving Keledrial, mind you, either. There was an army growing. And the people in that army obeyed orders without question…and dreamt of blood staining the sword coast red. It has always been a fear of the people of the sword coast that one day the pirates would unite. The nelather pirates are bad enough, curse their names and may they rot in the nine hells for all eternity. Still, they are incapable of unifying…too different. But Ruathym, now that is another tune altogether.
The Ruathen have proved that they can unite under a common leader for a common goal. Aumark Lithyl did that. But their common goal has never been the destruction of the cities of the sword coast. But whoever these travelers are…if they are sending the dreams, I can only think that that is their goal. And the blood started in Luskan. How hard could it possibly be to move the Ruathen to crush Luskan, once united. They hate the place. Not that I can blame them, hive of villainy and cut throats that it is. Even Keledrial curses at the name of that town. And if Luskan fell under the might of Ruathen then who's to say that other cities wouldn't follow? Oh I'm not saying that they would win, but still…with magic on their side who knows what might happen.
So we'll try my plan. But not for a day or two, I'm told. Spells have to be prepared. Songs and weapons sharpened and readied. Courage stirred and hearts steeled. After all if Keledrial is under dark power's sway, we may have to get past him as well. No easy task considering the magic and rage he can summon.
I wish I could find a way to leave Rosealliele and Sera out of the plan. I hate involving the little girl, and I know that Keledrial would have our hides…but there's no helping it. We need her if the plan's to work. As for Rosealliele, I don't think wild horses could keep her from coming, even though Kalanas can whip up all the same spells she can. She's trying to hide her fear…and how sick she's feeling. She's not a very good actress, though. She's terrified, but determined. Not that I can blame her. If it were Allianna, the hounds of the nine hells couldn't stand in my way. Still, I just know that Keledrial would hate the idea of her being involved. Especially considering how her hands keep hovering around her belly…I wonder if she even knows she's carrying yet? Probably not. Like Keledrial, Rosealleile strikes me as having a great deal of book-sense and not so much real life sense. Too bad. That means I'll have t keep an eye on her to make certain she doesn't get herself and her baby killed. And that means I'll be distracted in battle. I hate being distracted.
Lita Ravenlight
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As we approached the hill I began to feel fear. Not that I hadn't felt fear over what we were doing before, mind you. But this was a different sort of fear. It was the what-in-the-name-of-the-nine-hells-were-we-thinking, and how-could-we-possibly-survive –what-we-were-intending-to-do sort of fear. The fair Lita is smart, but this plan of hers…I've no notion of how it could possibly succeed, short of pure, dumb luck. Fortunately for us, I believe that that is something we all possess in abundance.
Now I knew the part I was to play, and new it well. Hadn't Lita been drilling it into me for the past two days? And hadn't I been studying feverishly with Liralyn to learn the song we were meant to sing? Yes. I most certainly had. Would it work? I didn't know. Only for Keledrial would I have ever attempted something so witless. But then again, I was never nearly as daring about my activities as I was when he is around. Still, I do not have many friends and among them, I must say I consider Keledrial the best I have. And while he's not always the safest person to be around, he certainly is among the most interesting of my acquaintances. What kind of friend would I be if I were not willing to walk into peril for my dearest friend? And in this case, peril was a barbarian army of berserkers, several thousand strong and me armed with only my harp and lute and voice as a defense…I fear I may be doomed.
We crept slowly up to the top of hill, and staying low, we peered down. The village of Rylonar was not a large village. A few dozen small cottages stood in what must have been the center of the village. Even at such a distance, I could see the large, dark opening near the center of houses. The cave…or well, whichever it now was. And filling the town to overflowing were Ruathen…men and women…a veritable sea of blond hair and bladed weapons. Not only did they fill Rylonar, the boiled over into the surrounding fields, tents and makeshift dwellings surrounding the main village. I could see many of them positioned throughout the area…guards no doubt. A goodly number of guards were standing near the former well. In the fields people were drilling…in formation. The sight was terrifying. Barbarians moving in the precision lines of the armies of the more "civilized" land…it was tantamount to disaster. The only thing that has ever kept the northern folk or the Ruathen from truly conquering, as is their nature, is their lack of order when it comes to true wars. Such order if introduced and embraced, as it was seeming to happen here, could mean a great deal of trouble for the people of the sword coast. And that is most definitely putting it mildly.
I glanced to the others. Eirik, Celedor, Kelly, Lita, Bran, Kalanas, Ranon, and Rosealliele stood near one another. Kalanas and Rosealliele then cast the same spell and the entire group of them vanished from sight.
"Wait until were inside the cave before you start," she reminded me. I nodded. It was all I could do at the moment. I was saving all my words for the song…a song that might very well mean life or death, depending on how well it went.
Then they were gone, presumably down the hill and towards their destination…the cave and the travelers. I looked about once more, taking stock of who was left. Liralyn and I would stand together for our part. I envied her, for the beautiful gold elven woman looked quite calm…as though we were merely preparing for a performance in a tavern…and not a performance for our lives and the lives of the ones we cared about. At my side, only clinging slightly, was little Sera. She looked excited, but her grip on my tunic belied her fear. The majority of the aging warriors of Ruathen that had been in the encampment Eirik had taken us to were already moving around the hill. They were to go around, as far as they could and try to "distract" the army from the opposite side or where Liralyn and I would be conjuring our own distraction.
Liralyn suddenly turned to face me…or rather, Sera. She crouched low bringing herself to eye level with Keledrial's draconic daughter.
"Now, Sera. Do you remember what you have to do?" Liralyn asked, gently. Sera nodded.
"I have to make them chase me," the little girl whispered. "And if they shoot at me, it won't hurt because of the spell Mommy cast on me."
"That's right. Right now, your skin is as hard as stone. And you can't hurt stone with arrows, can you?" Liralyn asked. Sera shook her head, again, acting far quieter than her usual behavior dictated. This was the part of the plan that I least liked…besides, of course my part of it. I wish we could have left Sera out of this entirely, for even a Stoneskin spell is not complete protection against whatever weapons the Ruathen might try to use. And while I don't disagree that Sera's distraction should prove to be effective, I hate the idea of putting a child into the path of danger, no matter the reason. Especially seeing as Keledrial will murder the lot of us if he survives this and finds out about it.
"You can do this Sera. We have faith in you. And remember. You're a dragon. And dragons are brave and strong," Liralyn continued with her little pep talk. Sera smiled faintly at the last.
"Daddy's brave…so I will be to," she declared. Liralyn nodded agreeably. I was starting to feel sick. How could we do this? How could we hope that this plan would work, all of it depending on distraction and magic.
"Then off you go. You remember where?" Sera nodded again. She carefully pulled the ties on her dress and let her clothes fall in a heap on the ground. Naked, she did not seem to feel the cold…but that's a dragon for you.
"Watch my clothes, uncle Toby," she demanded. Only Sera calls me that, even though I am not her uncle and highly dislike being called "Toby." When I nodded, she darted off in the opposite direction from the old Ruathen warriors.
Then Liralyn and I stood alone. We watched the cave entrance carefully, looking for the sign Lita had spoken of. It came all too soon for my liking. Near the entrance, a tiny flash of red appeared on the dirt, near the boot of a guard…a scrap of cloth that Lita had dropped out of the invisibility field that protected those going into the caves. The Ruathen didn't seem to notice anything, but then they were not looking for it and we were.
Liralyn and I exchanged glances, and in her grey eyes I saw fear to mirror my own, but excitement as well. I suppose that, in a way, it was exciting. A true adventure replete with danger, magic and looming death the likes such as we have not encountered in some time. I'm glad I wore my least favorite tunic that day for, as with all adventures involving Keledrial, I was certain that it wouldn't be long before I wound up covered in someone's blood. Pray to Hanali that it was not my own.
I raised up my lute, cradling it in my arms. Liralyn brought forth her harp. We looked down at the village below. A first spell we cast, to magnify our voices and our song to fill the area…thank the gods the day was still and not windy.
Then we began to sing. The song was slow…calming and below many of the Ruathen heard it. Insidiously it weaved throughout their ranks…wrapping around their emotions…binding their rage. It intensified, but only in a calming fashion. Their eyes grew glazed, their faces slack, and they moved slowly, closer, intent on the music…nothing but the music.
Liralyn played on, but as planned I altered a note in the song, changed the magic a little. Now a fog began to creep through the village growing strong despite the sun. Those who were unaffected by the song, the ones who were too strong in will to be bound by the magic looked about, fearfully…knowing, perhaps that some magic was at work. I kept singing steadily, knowing that if either Liralyn's or my voice or fingers faltered that the song would fail and the entire army would turn on us for the source of the music was not easy to hide.
Through the gathering fog and mist I caught glimpses of warriors falling, dropped, no doubt, by the weapons of the old men who were on our side. But there were still too many left that were not being affected. I felt a moment of panic seize me as I saw several of that number heading towards the cave…to warn the travelers of what was happening. Where was Sera?!
Then, as though my thoughts had conjured her, Sera appeared. No longer was she the dainty, blue-haired elven child that I was more familiar with. She had assumed her true form, a form that I have only seen a handful of time over the years since the day I had followed Keledrial into the woods and learned the truth of what his "daughter" really was.
The last time I had seen her true form had been back on Evermeet and she had been barely bigger than her elven form. Not so now. "Little" Sera had to be nearer in length to eight feet long, not including her tail. Her scales, which had always been a slate-blue color, were beginning to gain a tinge of true silver around the edges. Her claws were large enough that she could do damage without even trying. And it was then that I truly realized that Sera was no longer merely Keledrial's daughter, but a dragon…a creature that demanded respect and deserved t be feared.
She swooped down, winging her way over the village, her shadow blocking out the sun for a moment. All of the Ruathen left with the will to act did so, picking up spears, throwing axes and a few rare sets of bows and arrows. Sera made no sound as she passed over the village and turned around. The warriors gave chase, trying to shoot at and hit her with their weapons as she did so. And as Lita had predicted they followed Sera, away from the village and their bespelled fellows, following the only threat they could truly see.
I kept singing, my voice beginning to feel the first whispers of strain. I ignored them. After all, as a bard I have had to give performances that lasted hours of more. Of course I was able to rest between songs and take breaks once in while, though. Here there would be no rest, and no breaks. I could only hope that whatever was happening below would happen quickly, for, looking down at the large number of entranced Ruathen warriors that were less than a hundred yards from us, if I should falter there will not be much time for me to worry about anything. There will only be time for death.
"Tobias" Raede Elaernan
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We made our way into the cave entrance without any difficulty…but then I didn't really think there would be much trouble. After all, the Ruathen would not have known we were there to stop us, and I do not think they had a way to detect or dispel the invisibility circles that Kalanas and I had cast on the group.
On the way down, though, I noticed the strangest thing…the Ruathen people were all very tall. Now I know that humans do grow tall, and that the people of Rylonar are rumored to be even taller than most, but the height of the warriors was…impossible. Possible perhaps for a giant, but not humans. Many of them were near eight feet in height…some even more. There were those among them as broad across as three men. It was unnatural and impossible for them to be so large…short of magic that is. And I began to understand that the water of the well of Rylonar had apparently done more than just alter their thoughts, but it was apparently doing something to their physical forms as well. Very strange, I thought, for I could not think of a spell, short of polymorph that could do something like this.
The cave entrance proved to be more of a tunnel as it angled downwards and turned a corner blocking us from seeing what was ahead. We had taken no more that ten steps down the tunnel when I felt a spell trigger somehow, and all of the magic we had cast on ourselves as preparation for what might be coming, was dispelled. We all became visible in an instant, and I knew that all of my protection spells had failed as well. Lita stopped us and glanced about at the walls. A moment later she pointed out several scorched spots on the stone and dirt.
"Spell glyphs," she stated. "They've got the tunnel trapped…probably warded too." She looked back at us, a grim expression on her face.
"They probably know we're coming." I had to agree with her. If the travelers had the skill and cleverness enough to trap the tunnel with magic, they almost certainly would have had a warding spell here as well to let them know of intruders.
"How come it didn't go off for the Ruathen that come down here?" Bran wanted to know.
"They're supposed to be here. We are not," Kalanas replied, quietly.
"Well, no sense in turning back now," Ranon declared. "Can't fix an egg once it's been broke," the dwarf reasoned. He was right, of course. You cannot fix a broken egg…but once broken, it can be fried. I am certain there is some ominous analogy there to be found…something that warned of danger. I felt that danger as we moved further down the tunnel, Lita stopping every few moments to check for more traps…to disable the ones she found.
When we had arrived at the hill above Rylonar and peered down a the mass of humanity below, my eyes had searched hard, seeking the one head of silvery-blue among the blond. I did not find it. Keledrial was not with the rest of the Ruathen…he had to be down here. I could feel it. But as surely as I felt joy that we would find him soon, I felt fear as well for I knew not how he would react and what he would do while under the control of these travelers and their spell.
I did not have to wait long to find him. AS we moved downward, it became quickly apparently that the tunnel was not that deep. It went perhaps 50 or so feet down, and then turned. Lita motioned us back, and she crept up, peaking around the turn. A fraction of a moment later she moved back to us.
"There's a widening in the cavern just ahead," she whispered. "Just beyond it looks like it widens again. There are torches and lights beyond the second arch…and I can hear water. So everyone be ready. No idea what to expect." We were ready. Those of us who used weapons had them out, and those of us who used spells had them prepared. Lita took all of this in, in a moment, and we stepped out of the tunnel and into the opening. Before we had gotten more than a dozen feet in, however, there came the sound of chanting…a familiar spell.
All of the casters recognized it and ran for cover. Fortunately for Bran, Kelly, and Lita they are quick and they were not too badly burned when a ball of fire erupted near the center of where we had been standing. As I moved back out from behind the rock where I had found my cover I saw the fading of an invisibility spell and standing before us, blocking our path, his hands still glow with magic, was my husband.
It only took a glance for me to realize that the magic of this place was changing him, just as it had apparently changed the rest of the Ruathen. However the changes in Keledrial horrified me for it appeared as though his nightmare was becoming reality.
He had grown taller…nearer now to seven feet than six. His body was broader than it had been before, with his tunic straining at the seams to contain him. But perhaps the most noticeable changes were to his skin…his face. His skin was losing the pale bluish hue of the Moon elves…and in places had turned the ruddy pink of humans…his ears seemed shorter…less pointed, becoming more rounded…and his silvery-blue hair was now streaked through with blond…only his eyes remained unchanged. They were still the same elven shaped green that they had always been but with one major change…as his eyes alighted on us there was no gleam of recognition, no welcome in them. There was only challenge and malice. He snapped his fingers and into his hands appeared a sword. The Fury of Battle, I realized with mounting horror.
"Keledrial…"I managed to say his name, even though the person before me did not seem to be him anymore. He laughed. His voice was deeper, rougher sounding…even that had changed. And his laugh was…cruel…and triumphant.
"Gone!" he stated with a grin. "As he sought to banish me, so I have banished him. Now there is only Airk."
"Airk, then," Eirik replied to this, stepping forward. "What is it that goes on here?" the human demanded.
"Nothing that you are needed for, old man," Keledrial…no… this was not him but Airk, sneered.
"I am a First Axe!" Eirik thundered. Airk laughed.
"Not anymore. Soon there won't even be a First Axe of Ruathym anymore!"
"And who will rule in his place? Your travelers?" Eirik wanted to know. Airk nodded.
"They will do what no First Axe has ever been able to do…crush Luskan to rubble and take the rest of the sword coast, as is our due."
"Our due? These travelers aren't even of Ruathym," Eirik scoffed. "And would you trust them so easily when they have used foul magic to force the people of the southern villages to aid them?"
"They understand the value of power," Airk hissed, sounding angry…not a good thing considering what sword was in his hands.
"And you never will. Step forward, old man," Airk beckoned, bringing his sword up. "Step forward and face the fate of the unneeded. The rest of you will turn back now, or die on my blade," he eyed the rest of us. Finally, I moved to speak. I could not let my husband attack his friend. I had to try and see if he was still there somewhere.
"Keledrial! Please! Don't do this! You cast the spells so you must still be here. Don't let him manipulate you anymore!" I moved within a few feet of him, stepping between him and Eirik. It was a rash thing to do but I was certain that he would recognize me.
"Go!" Lita called. "While he's distracted!" The others ran past at that point, into the cavern, while Airk stared at me intensely. When they did so, however, the momentary stillness that came upon him vanished. With a roar of rage he raised his sword, and I watched in horror unable to move, realizing that he did not know me…and meant to kill me.
Suddenly I was shoved to the side as Eirik slammed into me. The Fury of Battle came down and the strike that would have killed me only grazed my shoulder instead, as I was thrown to the ground. The wound was deep…and painful, but not fatal…at least not as long as it was cared for. It would make casting difficult, I knew, but not impossible.
I looked up when I heard the clash of blades, saw that Eirik had engaged Airk in combat. Axe met sword with a clatter that rang throughout the cave. The battle rage was upon Airk, and Eirik spared a breath to say,
"Get out of here! Help the others!" Then he, too, slipped into a berserk as well. I did not want to go…did not want to leave my husband until he knew who I was…but there was nothing else I could do. My abjuration magic would be no help here nor would my enchantments, for berserkers are notoriously resistant to such spells. I was terrified that if I left one of them would kill the other…but I also knew that such an event would occur even if I stayed. Yet I remembered my promise to run if the danger was too great…and even though I was running from one danger to another, I felt I would still be keeping my promise. After all, Keledrial had never said where I was to run to.
In the end, I realized that the best way to stop my husband was to stop the force that had done this to him, that had twisted his will and his mind; and that force was only a few steps beyond where I was.
I managed to struggle to my feet, and dart past the flying blade edges, clutching my shoulder as best I could.
As soon as I entered the room I realized that we were in trouble…perhaps more than could be easily handled, I might add. The cavern beyond was even larger…a natural cave. At the far side was a large, still pool. Nearer, however, were makeshift living quarters. Beds, tables and chairs had all been brought down here, and judging by the numbers there were at least five of these travelers.
Not more than a few feet from the edge of the pool, a second battle had begun. Five men stood there, all of their hands and voices moving through spells. The men were humans, but not of the Ruathen nationality. They were, for the most part, smaller and darker in coloring. I knew by their robes and by their spells that they were all wizards.
Among my allies, Kalanas Ranon and Celedor were casting…counterspells to what some of the wizards were spelling. They were unable to counter everything, though, and a huge blast of ice shards and freezing air shot forward from the hands of one of them, catching Celedor and Ranon in its wake.
Another finished a second spell that caused a gate to open just off to the side of him. Out of the gate stepped a naked human woman. The wizard croaked out words in a foul tongue and the woman nodded. Swords appeared in her hands as she moved forward to attack.
As she rushed at Kalanas, who was still countering spells, Lita slipped from the shadows and suddenly wrapped what looked like a piece of barbed wire around the woman's bare throat and pulled it so tight it had to be strangling her…then locked it into place and stepped back, drawing a dagger and a short sword.
I knew that something was wrong immediately, for the woman did not seem at all bothered by the wire…in fact, she smiled…and then the wire snapped. The outline of her formed wavered like watching someone through the waves of extreme heat…and she changed. Standing in her place, so tall that her head was only a few feet from the top of the cavern was a creature that I knew well from studies in summoning. Now wearing armor, she had the lower body of a snake and the upper body of a human…a human with six arms that is. The creature is called a Marilith, and short of a balor, there is no demon in the nine hells more powerful or feared for they are the generals of the armies of the demons. The demoness laughed, and beckoned at us, each of her six arms now holding a weapon…foul sharp looking blades that dripped with some blackish venom.
I stared, along with the others for a heartbeat, thoughts filling with dread as we recognized the power of the demoness…and of the wizards who had summoned her. The clash of battle went on behind us, and fear filled me. I had never seen anything like this, though I have read many tales. While Keledrial and his friends adventured and saw bloodshed and battle often, I never did. I felt sick. I felt afraid. And when I heard Lita curse, my hopes dropped. In that moment I felt there was no way we could win. And when I felt at my most hopeless, I suddenly felt a gentle, yet firm movement in my belly. As Bran, Kelly, and Lita charged forward to attack the Marilith, I stood very still, feeling it again.
My foolishness nearly overwhelmed me, running apace with sudden joy. I could not believe it, but knew the truth in that moment. All the previous months of being sick and tired…all the times that Keledrial and the others had assured me it was merely the stress of everything that had happened that was making me ill…I had allowed myself to believe it and had been to foolish to recognize the truth.
I was pregnant.
…and I had brought not only myself, but my unborn child…Keledrial's child into peril. I looked up…at the wizards…at the demon…at my friends and Keledrial's friends fighting. I felt anger…and the anger gave me hope. I had to fight…to save them…and myself…no matter the fear I felt. How dare these wizards do such a thing?! How dare they threaten my family with their machinations?! Just because one had power does not mean it gives them the right to abuse it.
With those thoughts in my mind, the anger over what was happening burning in me, and the fear that I if I did not do something soon I would lose my family, I summoned up my most powerful spell…a spell I had always hoped I would never need to use. My wounded shoulder still throbbed fiercely, but this spell required only my voice as the component…nothing somatic…no arcane materials. Both of my grandparents had were wizards…both of my parents had been as well. And while I prefer to use magic of protection over any other variety, the attack on Evermeet, whose horror is still so vividly etched in my memories was a terrible and great teacher. I had not come unprepared, as so many on Evermeet had been when evil struck so suddenly. The power of the magic I summoned coursed through my body and I took a final, deep breath in. That breath I released in the final culmination of the spell…a scream so fierce that the very sound of it was deadly to my enemies…the wail of the banshee.
Rosealliele Silverspear
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When I slipped the elven vice wire around the neck of the summoned woman and tightened it to killing strength, I assumed that would be the end of her. I drew out my sword and dagger, meaning to turn my attention back on the wizard that had summoned her, when my "victim" did a most unusual thing…she began to laugh. My stomach lurched…I hated it when the bad guys did unpredictable things. Then the vice snapped…as though it had been no more than a string. The first thought that crossed my mind, was: damn it! I had paid the drow a great deal of coin to purchase the vice. Following closely after that thought was the realization that this was no mere mortal woman…and immediately after she shapeshifted into some six-armed snake giant, the only thought passing through my head was: we're fucked.
The demon-thing looked down at me, beckoning. Yeah right. Like I was going to fight straight on. If I had ever been that stupid, I would've died a long time ago. So I backed off a few feet, trying to come up with some grand plan to save my ass. I could not think of a single idea, except to remind myself for the thousandth time since leaving Waterdeep that I was getting far too old for this sort of nonsense. Adventure and danger on a grand scale is the game of the young. I should have been relaxing in a chair in my nice, warm, comfortable house in Silverymoon, with Alliana stopping by to say hello. But no. Instead I stood there staring hell in the face, with not one idea how to beat it. Then the oversized, blond teacher from Everall…Bran charged the snake-thing, roaring to Tempus and raising his axe. Half a moment later Kelly snapped up her longsword and moved in as well…a little less loud but no less foolish. And it occurred to me that if now was the time I was meant to die, then there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. I figured that if it was my time to go, at least I could go out heroically…it would give Alliana something to tell my grandkids…if the girl ever settles down long enough to give me any.
I didn't charge in, though…charging is for the bold…and the foolish…like Bran and Keledrial. I moved in quietly, praying to Mask for either a swift victory or a relatively painless death. The demon snake thing was distracted my Bran who'd managed to do a bit of damage with his roaring attack…but had left himself wide open in the process. The Snake woman slashed at him, scoring a line of blood across the warrior's chest, the sword slicing through his armor like paper. But while she did so, I slipped in, moving across from where Kelly was defending against attacks from two of the demon's arms….a flanking position. Now, normally I would've aimed my shot for a key vital area, but seeing as I wasn't certain where a vital area on a demon was, I just aimed for the lower back…which was about as high as I could reach without making myself vulnerable to attack.
My short sword and dagger sunk in with ease, but once withdrawn, I saw that the demon's wounds began to knit back together with amazing speed. Damn…just like a troll., she was regenerating my damage. And unfortunately, my little maneuver garnered me some attention.
Thus I was forced to spend most of my energy just trying to fend off attacks…any of which might have killed me. And when a lucky shot on her part nicked me across the back, I immediately felt a burning through the wound…poison. A glance over at the priests told me that they would be no help. Both Ranon and Celedor had only just managed to avoid another ice spell, that had them scrambling. They both looked quite frosty and were spending all their time trying to stay alive…just as I was. Only Kalanas seemed to be having luck, but even his dark face was strained as he countered spell after spell, forced to dodge what he was not quick enough to beat.
A glance back at my battle showed that we were not doing much better. Bran was bleeding freely and profusely from numerous wounds…and Kelly's armors showed tears in the metal, where she had been struck. I was beginning to tire…too old, I say! Things were looking grim, and just as I starting to think that we had pretty much botched this attempt at saving the day, I heard a chanting rise above the sounds of battle and spell battle. I jumped back, avoiding another swipe…the damnable heel spawn was toying with us! It afforded me a moment to look about…see where the chanting was coming from.
At the very edge of the cavern stood Rosealliele. Keledrial's dainty little wife was standing very still. One of her hands clutched her shoulder…the sleeves of her dress was torn…pale blue cloth red with blood from the wound. She seemed to be staring at a point in space somewhere between herself and us, completely immersed in the spell.
Then I saw movement behind her…a body slumped to the ground, and from the shadow stepped Keledrial…or Airk…or whatever the hells he was calling himself. His tunic was splattered with blood, though I could not see a wound. Even from a distance I could see that his eyes gleamed with the madness of a battle rage. I knew that he had killed Eirik, for nothing short of death would have stopped the old man.
He was headed towards the battle, death evident in every step he took, with his cursed sword at the ready. Then his gaze focused as he found a target…the one target who was in no position to defend herself.
I screamed out a warning to Rosealliele, even knowing that she would not hear it…not over the sounds of what was happening throughout the rest of the cavern. I felt sick…and not just from the poison. Keledrial raised his sword, while his wife stood, still casting and unknowing that her own husband was about to cut her in half.
Then something strange happened…and I mean a bit more strange than all the other bizarre stuff that was happening. Rose's voice began to rise dramatically. From the wizards, another spell was cast...the variety of which I cannot say. Neither Kalanas nor the priests moved quick enough to dispel it. A beam of black energy shot from the wizard's hands…aimed straight at Rosealliele. From the expression of fear on his face, I think he knew what spell she was casting and had decided to stop her at all costs.
And in the split second between the casting and arrival of the beam I saw something cross Keledrial's warped face…recognition, I guess. Rather than killing Rosealliele, he dropped his sword and suddenly stepped between her and the beam. It struck him squarely in the chest. He stood for another moment, a small black hole in his chest…then he fell forward…and I could see blood…all over his back…splattered all over Rosealliele's dress.
The moment Keledrial hit the ground, his wife began to scream…and not just the normal wife screaming over a seemingly dead husband sort of scream, either. This scream hurt my ears…to the point that I was certain if she didn't stop I would be deaf…but what happened to the wizards…the travelers, was much worse. One by one they covered their ears, seeking to block out the sound of Rosealliele's shriek. One by one they turned gray and slumped to the floor with blood dripping from every hole in their heads…ears, nose, eyes…and when Rosealliele stopped screaming all five of the travelers who had caused so much trouble…were dead.
In the moments that followed Ranon and Celedor seemed to catch their bearings. While Bran, Kelly and I continued to try to hold the demon at bay, they began to pray. At the end of their combined prayers to Corellon and Marthammor, the demon began to thrash about, shouting in a foul tongue…and finally with a wisp of gray smoke, she vanished…banished back to the hells, where she belonged, no doubt.
Once gone there was a terrible silence in the cave, broken only by wearied gasps. The priests immediately rushed over to Bran, Kelly and myself. They had not seen Keledrial fall, but they could see us…and of we three not one of us was unharmed. And it was as they were on their way over to me that I started to feel a bit dizzy. I sat down. The dizziness didn't stop…and as darkness began to edge in around my vision all I thought was: I hope the priests find out how to neutralize the poison in time...and all I could see was Rosealliele falling to her knees beside the too-still, unchanged form of Keledrial…and all I could hear was the sound of chanting…and water, for the pool had not miraculously vanished when the wizards had died. And about that time I closed my eyes thinking that a bit of rest would be just the thing.
Lita Ravenlight
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The last thing I expected as I cast the wail of the banshee spell was for Keledrial to suddenly step in front of me. I hadn't even seen the danger…hadn't seen the wizard cast the spell at me; a spell that would have killed me had it struck true. When Keledrial stepped in front of me, I was at the crucial part of the spell, and I did not stop though I saw the expression on his mutated face finally bore the hint of recognition I had searched for earlier. His sword clattered to the ground, and he turned his back towards me…shielding me. The beam of energy struck him, and his back exploded in a spray of blood that splattered all over me. Keledrial pitched forward, onto the ground, hand outstretched only inches from his sword. He lay very still.
I screamed, and that scream became the spell. It ripped through the wizards and one by one they fell as death claimed them. I had not, until that day, ever killed anyone. I had thought it would be more significant that I had done so then. I thought I would feel more remorse…but I could not. I hated them, in that instant…hated them as much as I have ever hated anything in my entire life.
Only when they were dead, and the demon banished did I allow myself to look at Keledrial. He had not moved, and the pool of blood beneath him was growing deeper. I fell to my knees beside him, heedless of the blood that covered us both. My hands moved towards him, shaking. I had to touch him, to search for life somewhere in his lifeless form. Yet before my hands could do so there was a flare of light, and a pulse of energy. The light came from the sword…the Fury of Battle as it seemed to turn red as dark flames erupted along its length. Keledrial twitched. His hand slid forward, almost of its own volition and grasped the hilt of the sword. He stood, although how he managed to do so with such dreadful wounds…a hole as wide as my hand in his back, I do not know. It had to have been magic.
He did not look at me, nor did he look either left or right. He walked straight towards the pool. Kalanas, who of all of us seemed the least injured, darted to step into Keledrial's path, trying to stop him. Keledrial batted Kalanas aside as though the dark elf were one of Sera's dolls.
As soon as his boots hit the edge of the water the Fury of Battle pulsed again, the power of it radiating outwards like heat. And suddenly there were two people standing at the edge of the pool, not one, and neither truly Keledrial.
One was fully human, tall and broad with long blond hair. The other was tall and thin, with long silvery blue hair…and he was wholly elven. Both had matching wounds in their backs…and each held one hand on the hilt of the fury of battle. They continued into the pool matching one another step for step until the water was nearly up to their arms and they were at the center of the pool. They turned to face each other, and I could see that both of them had green eyes, their eyes almost seeming to glow like a cat's in the dim light.
The elf slid his hands down the sides of blade coating the edges in blood as he began to chant. The human added his own blood to the blade and together they flipped the Fury of Battle so that the point of the sword faced downward, held just above the surface of the water. If a spell was being cast, I did not recognize it and the words of power that came from the elf were of a sort that I have never before heard.
They brought the sword down, the human calling out to Tempus. I cannot say as there was a flash of light or anything so dramatic. It was as though in the space of time it took me to blink the water and the human were gone, leaving only the wounded, blue haired elf lying in a dry lakebed beside a sword that now appeared to be made of gray stone instead of steel. The sword was half buried in the stone of the floor, the ground sealing it in so seamlessly it looked as though it had grown there, rather than having been put there. I did not think that it could be removed, but thought that perhaps it would be better that way. The Fury of Battle has never caused Keledrial anything but trouble anyhow.
For a moment the silence was absolute as we all tried to accept and puzzle out what had just happened. The pool was gone…as was the mysterious human, and the elf who lay so still beside the sword was no more the Keledrial we all knew than the one who'd attacked us had been.
Celedor was the first to respond. The priest, looking slightly worse for the wear, hurried out to the elf and began a powerful healing prayer. About then I somehow managed to find the strength to rise and go over to where all the others were. Bran and Kelly were both covered in numerous wounds that Ranon and Celedor had already begun to heal. Lita was lying down, looking tired and weak as Ranon prayer to his dwarven goddess to remove the poison from the human woman's body. Kalanas met me halfway to the pool and took hold of my good arm, steadying me.
"Are you all right?" the dark elven wizard asked. I shook my head, certain that I was not in any sense of the term, for while I had only been slightly wounded compared to the others, my heart felt so fragile I was certain it would break at any moment…at the moment that some one would tell me that Keledrial was dead.
Celedor healed the wounds of the fallen elf as best he could. We watched as the hole in his back closed, tissues bone and sinew reknit itself back together. When the prayer was finished the wound still looked angry and red, not completely closed, and still oozing a bit of blood but no longer did it look so terribly life threatening. In a wheezing voice Celedor gasped out,
"I dare not attempt another healing. Too much magical healing can be as bad for a wound as the wound itself." I knelt beside the priest, and tried to turn the elf over. Realizing what I was trying to do, Kalanas and Celedor aided me, even as I heard the others moving closer. Gently we turned the elf onto his back trying not to harm him any further. When I saw his face I knew it was Keledrial…but once more, he had changed…he was no longer as he had been before coming here.
Keledrial had always been tall and broad, and while his height had not changed, he was far slimmer than he had been by nearly half over. What was left of his tunic hung far too loosely about him. His hands were thinner…and his face as well. In the past I know that many people had mistaken my husband for a half elf…but looking at him now, I knew that no one could ever make such a mistake. He reminded me more of a grown version of the boy I had known on Evermeet…as he might have become if Ruathym had never touched him.
"What happened?" Kelly asked, breaking the silence of my study.
"I don't know," murmured as I touched his face, feeling the changes there. "Maybe it was the magic of the pool."
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, though I am not certain to whom she had directed her question.
"There's no way to be certain. He'll live…the beam did not hit anything vital, although I fear one of his lungs may be damaged…but it will heal in time. Still, there's no way of knowing exactly what else the magic has changed in him," Celedor replied, softly.
"Let's get him out of here," Bran stated gruffly. The human warrior bent low and picked up my husband with surprising gentleness. Lita was having trouble standing, so Kelly went to aid her. Kalanas and Celedor both moved at the same time to help me rise. In the end, Kalanas took my arm, while Celedor chanted an intermediate level prayer to heal the wound in my shoulder.
On our way out we found the body of Eirik. He was quite dead, numerous sword wounds scarring his body. A large gash across his middle had nearly cut him in half. He had a sort of smile on his face as though he had been happy in dying…even though it had been one of his dearest friends who had slain him. I closed my eyes not wanting to see any longer. He had died trying to buy the rest of us time to defeat the wizards, and while the Ruathen might think such a death…in battle, was a good death, it was still death to me. I wanted to cry. But I restrained myself, thinking that I had to be strong a little longer…that Keledrial when he awoke…if he awoke would need me to be strong for him.
As we made our way back up the tunnel I tried not to think of everything that might have happened to Keledrial. I tried to remind myself that my husband was still alive. And I tried to keep hope that everything would be all right once we got someplace safe…somewhere we could rest. I didn't dare allow myself to think otherwise, for it was only that small bit of hope I had that kept me standing and conscious when all I wanted to do was slip into reverie and forget that I was covered in Keledrial's blood…that I had killed five people…that I had nearly died and just as nearly killed the baby that I hadn't even realized I was carrying. As we got to the end of the tunnel I could see that the haze of fog from Tobias' spell was gone…and that rays of sun were beginning to pierce through the overcast day. We had done everything we could. I had to believe that. Still, as we stepped out of the tunnel, I sent up a few prayers…to Sehanine Moonbow…and to Corellon as well, praying that they would give me my husband back, whole and himself once more…vowing to donate all of my gold to their churches if they did so.
Rosealliele Silverspear
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I sang until my throat was beginning to hurt, and every breath that passed seemed to take an hour or more. Still, this was unlike any performance I had ever done before, and I think the stress of knowing how many lives were on the line if I faltered made the whole situation seem to take that much longer. Below, in the fog, I could hear the cries of death, the sounds of battle as the old Ruathen fought their sons and daughters and friends, trying to keep them from going to the aid of the travelers. The clash of weapons was not unfamiliar to me, bringing back the days of adventuring I had passed in the company out of Waterdeep. It brought to mind the years I had spent traveling in the circus with my parents…my mother a singer who could perform a song even while hanging upside down, or standing astride on a horse galloping through hoops of fire….and my father who could throw daggers with such accuracy that he could outline a persons form with blades, each one never further than a hair's breadth from the skin. I had never felt fear in the circus, for such feats were commonplace. It was not until I met Keledrial and the others that I fully began to comprehend true danger…and all the emotions that come along with it.
As I stood on that hill top, with the army of Ruathen staring, entranced, below, it occurred to me that while I was perhaps never very brave in battle, that bravery takes many different forms, and that what I was doing was its own sort of. Keledrial had once remarked to me, in his ever-scathing tone of voice, that I used him as one would use a shield. But this time it was I who was his shield, in a way, for it was my song and Liralyn's that shielded the others from a battle that could not be won. The feeling that I was finally showing some courage gave me strength and I felt my voice renewed….as though I could sing on with ease.
Sera flew overhead, wailing loudly. Startled, I looked up to see why. She had been shot…an arrow that had managed to get past her stoneskin enchantment had pierced her tail…and I realized that if her enchantment had worn off already,. Then we were running out of time. Where were the others, I thought wildly, trying to think of something else I could do. I glanced over to Liralyn. She looked back, her voice never faltering. I could see the concern in her eyes. She has quite lovely eyes I might add…too bad that she's Kalanas'…else I might have been tempted to seduce her.
Though the decision was difficult, I broke my song and called to Sera knowing that she would hear me, for draconic sense are eve keener than elven ones.
"Sera! Fly to me and change back!" I yelled. I couldn't let her continue to fight without protection…dragon though she was the number of Ruathen warriors chasing her would have killed her with a few more lucky shots, for she has no battle sense, being so young. Besides…better I die at the hands of the Ruathen than Keledrial's if he finds out I let something happen to Sera, I reasoned.
My song's magic began to decay…holes began to appear in the fog as it started to dissipate in the sun…warriors began to shake their heads; clearing the daze that the magic had inflicted. Sera landed behind me with a loud thud, wailing that her tail hurt. I looked down the hill one more time. As the fog cleared I could see that most of the elders who had accompanied us were dead….and the army was beginning to regain their wits. Working quickly I grabbed the arrow shaft and snapped it in two, then yanked both of the pieces out of Sera's tail. She screamed loudly, still sounding very much like a little girl, her ear piercing shriek sounding odd coming from such a large dragon. I vow she nearly killed me when she swung her wounded tail at me, shouting that I had hurt her. I wound up flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me.
"Change back!" I managed to gasp at her, knowing that some of the wound would be healed when she shifted forms anyhow, for that is the nature of polymorph. Besides, I had to hope that when the army came after us they would leave her alone, being that she would appear as a child, and not a dragon. When Sera did not comply, I started to worry. But then Liralyn spoke,
"Sera, change to your elven form." Her tone was that of a mother, and as such Sera complied. It is a wonder to me how all woman who have born children can affect such a tone that makes even grown men obey as though they were once more children in short clothes. My relief at Sera being once more in her more familiar form, still sniffling loudly, soon vanished in the stark realization that Liralyn too, had broken her song. Below, shouts of anger rose up to my ears, and I knew it would not be long now.
Liralyn gave me a weary, resigned smile. I sighed, thinking that this was not the way I had intended to die…although come to think about I don't think there is a way I would prefer to die…except by not doing it.
I managed to stumble to my feet and watch as the Ruathen began to regain a degree of order, some of them shouting to find the "beast", while others called to kill the sorcerers who'd bewitched them. And then, quite without warning, there came a pulse of energy that rolled across the battlefield and village like a wave of heat. And in the span of time it took me to draw a breath, the Ruathen stopped, and all traces of magic, including my spell and Liralyn's vanished. For a long moment there was a terrible silence…it seemed more out of place in the suddenly bright morning than the sounds of battle had. Ruathen looked about, glances at one another, at the bodies…at where they were. Then came the explosion of voices and whispers as the questions began. How did I get here? What have we done? What has happened here? Who killed the elders? What happened to the well? Why does my head hurt so? And on and on…
It was as though none of them remembered anything they had done, many saying that they only remembered coming to Rylonar and being given some water to drink. There were shouts of horror as the Ruathen with blood on their weapons realized that it was they who had killed the elders…some of them family. There whispers of "sorcery" and prayers to Tempus for guidance and protection.
I felt small hands grip my tunic as Sera grabbed hold of me, clinging to me.
"Uncle Toby…where's Daddy and Mommy?" she wanted to know. I looked to the cave/well entrance. The guards there looked just as confused as the rest. I did see a few of the elders who had not been killed making their way in that direction, shoving aside dazed Ruathen youth, being trailed by those they pushed aside. Still, there was no sign of the others.
"We need to get down there," I replied, not quite answering her question. I wasn't certain what had caused that strange pulse of energy that had released the Ruathen, but I felt it had to have been Lita and the others. I hoped they were all right.
We made our way down the hill, startled Ruathen moving out of way as we passed, all staring in shock. We met the elders halfway there, each of them giving us a grim greeting. More than two thirds of them had fallen in battle. We moved as a group towards the former well of Rylonar…and just as we got there shadows moved out of the darkness.
My heart beat painfully when I saw them…all of them so wounded and bloodied. Rosealliele, covered in blood from neck to knees looked far too pale. Lita leaned heavily on Kelly, both of them looking very much worse for the wear. But it was the still, blood-soaked form that Bran carried over his shoulder that made me freeze with sudden grief. I knew it was Keledrial…and he looked quite dead. I couldn't say anything. Couldn't even move to stop Sera when she darted forward, screaming for her father. In that moment all I could think that Keledrial…a veritable force of nature in my life for the past few decades…was dead. It didn't seem possible. No matter how wounded he got, or what trouble he managed to land in, he'd always managed to triumph…and make it look easy to do so in the process. It was incomprehensible to me that whatever had happened here could have stopped him…true the danger had been high, but then so had fighting Handrax…and the mercenaries…and the orcs…why should this be the thing to defeat him? He was my dearest friend…and if the truth to be told one of the only ones I had, for my traveling ways have never been condusive to creating long term friendships or relationships.
Then I heard what Celedor was saying to Sera. The priest had managed to intercept Sera before she could get to Bran…and Keledrial. She struggled, threatening to bite him if he didn't let her go. Celedor, however, always calm kept repeating to the little dragon that Keledrial was alive, but he was hurt and needed to rest. Alive. I couldn't contain a sigh of relief.
"But where is Eirik?" one of the elders interrupted.
"He has gone to the halls of Tempus," Bran stated firmly. This was followed by considerable murmuring and noises of surprise.
"And them traveler wizards are dead too," Ranon added. For once I could see he was smart enough to have hidden his wings under a cloak…although it made him look as though he had a hunchback. It was bad enough that the Ruathen had to deal with so many of us "alfar", without having to try to rationalize a winged dwarf. Honestly, after all this time you'd think Ranon would have done something about his wings…if nothing than to at least try to fit in with his fellows!
A blur of activity followed as the Ruathen began to try and straighten out what had happened. No one was certain of anything, aside from the fact that magic had most assuredly been at work here. Ian, Eirik's son was quick to take charge, although he seemed just as baffled and angry as the rest of them. He gathered together the leaders of the different villages and began to sort things into order. And command went out for priests and shamans to do what they could for the injured…and to begin preparing the rites for the dead. Ian did not flinch when his father's body was brought from the tunnels, cut almost in half…not the work of a wizard. I immediately had my suspicions, but did not voice them.
Ian spoke with us, informing us that he had long known of Keledrial and recognized him as a friend of his father's. That, along with the words of the elders, seemed to earn us his trust. The human quickly had a house cleared out for us to rest in. I followed the others in to the building, a wooden dwelling with a thatched roof, and a single, large, room for the interior. A fire was started in the hearth, but it did little to dispel the chill that seemed tangible in the air…the aura of fear that lingered on. Bran lay Keledrial's body down on the lone bed in the room, and I was shocked to see the sheer amount of blood he was covered in. I prayed that it wasn't all his, but could not be certain. Celedor and Ranon rolled his onto his stomach, and using a dagger, Celedor cut the remains of the destroyed tunic away. The wound was hideous, and I had trouble grasping that Keledrial could have possibly survived it long enough to be healed. The middle portion of the right side of his back looked as though an ogre had punched its fist through it. Even healed, the wound looked ragged, and raw, as though there had not been enough skin left of Keledrial's back, and the healing had caused what remained to stretch to try to cover the wound. I was glad I had not eaten much that day for I could feel my stomach lurching at the mere sight of it. So I turned away. Scars were one thing…this was different. My mind reeled and I tried to think of a spell…any spell that could have done such damage. Nothing came to mind…but then I am not a wizard, either.
The others sat down, spreading out blankets and whatever they could find to rest on. Everyone who had gone down into the cave looked terribly weary…all of them bruised and cut and torn from whatever they had seen and done battle with. Lita immediately fell asleep…at the time, I hoped that she was just asleep, anyhow. When it became apparent that there was nothing else to be done for Keledrial, Ranon and Celedor went about, aiding the rest of the group. Rose refused help, demanding water and a cloth instead. Someone fetched it for her, bringing not only soap but clean clothing for all of us, as well. They were probably hoping, as I hoped, that she meant to clean herself of the macabre veneer of blood she was covered in. However, she merely took the water, sitting beside Keledrial, and with a shaking hand she started to wash the blood and mud off him, instead. Her eyes were dry, her face set in a strange emotionless mask. The sight of her like that somehow had me feeling more ill than thee sight of Keledrial's wound. Rosealliele, from all I have been able to discern of her, is not the sort of woman who hides her emotions…and seeing her do so…it made me nervous.
Not wishing to ponder the situation any longer, I decided to get out of the house. So I slapped a faint smile on my face and informed the others that I was going to go try to find out what the wizards were about….wizards being notorious about having notes and journals and such. No one protested. So out I went, and past the newly stationed guards, into the depths of the formal well.
I saw the dwelling place of the travelers…I saw their bodies as they were being dragged out…I saw the blood splattered everywhere…the evidence of powerful spells in the forms of melting ice and scorched rock…I saw the Fury of Battle plunged halfway into the ground, no longer made of steel, but stone. I imagined the story that the Ruathen would tell about it, years from now…even centuries until the truth of the tale was more myth than reality. It looked to be the stuff of a legend…and I suppose that was what it was. I did not touch the blade, however. It seemed a bad idea.
I focused my attentions on the belongings of the travelers…trunks and drawers and bags and the like. It did not take me long to find what I was searching for. I sat there and read the account of Gerald Faustrian of Luskan…one of the infamous wizards of the Arcane Brotherhood of the Host Tower of Luskan.
The five travelers had all been members of the Arcane Brotherhood…students together learning the arcane arts among the Luskan wizards. Gerald had come from a wealthy merchant family who believed that there interest would be best served by having him among the wizards, for it is well known that the overwizards and the Archmage of the Host Tower rule Luskan beneath the thin veneer of the council of the High Captains. Crucial decisions are not made in Luskan without their "by-your-leave."
With time spent among the Brotherhood came knowledge, and access to libraries of books that Candlekeep scholars would love to have. Gerald, the leader of his particular cabal, and a summoner, read of accounts of magical pools and became fascinated by the idea. He took summoning creatures to learn more about the pools…even summoning demons. I gathered from the way he wrote about doing such so casually, that summoning beings from the lower planes was a commonplace thing among the Arcane Brotherhood. However, when an overwizard by the name of Jostek began to take interest in what Gerald and the rest of his cabal were doing, Gerald summoned another demon…this one for a purpose far different than information. He ordered the demon to kill the elder…and that was when the trouble seemed to begin.
From what he wrote I gathered that when he had the elder killed, Gerald began to get a taste for power…and murder. His friends…all like-minded souls he had easily molded to his will and ambitions never hesitated to follow him. One by one more elders in the Brotherhood began to have "accidents"…suffer "mishaps." But as with all people of such evil bent, Gerald and his cronies got arrogant…and overconfident. They were caught when one of their targets caught wind of their impending attack and managed to banish the demon that had been sent to kill him…but not before gaining the identities of the ones who'd summoned it.
Gerald and the others only just managed to escape the Host Tower when their intended victim turned attacker, with intent to kill. No longer able to return to Luskan or the tower, the group of wizards made their way to Waterdeep…one of the few cities in the north of the sword coast that Luskan and the wizards do not dare meddle with. From there Gerald grew angrier by the entry. His plots grow more and more fantastic until he starts to here stories from Ruathym pirates…tales of a village in Ruathym, called Rylonar and how the water there seems to make the villagers grow stronger and taller than most….almost unnaturally strong.
From then on things went pretty much as I would have expected. Careful study went into the village, and then a farce of being stranded has Gerald and his compatriots brought to shore…into the very heart of Rylonar by the villagers. Gerald then used a levitate spell to lower himself down to the water, when night had fallen and his "rescuers" were sleeping. A touch was all it took to gain control of the pool, to corrupt it to his whim, Gerald wrote. An army was what he desired…an army strong enough to crush Luskan and the Host Tower to ruins…all out of a desire for revenge and power.
When I had finished the journal and emerged from the depths of the well, night had fallen. I made my way back to the house where the others were. Kelly, Bran, and Lita were all asleep. Kalanas looked to have slipped into reverie. Celedor and Ranon were speaking quietly in a corner, but both of them looked as though they, too, were in desperate need of a rest. On the bed, Keledrial was still unconscious…Sera lay sleeping beside him. Only Rosealliele was wide away, her eyes barely blinking, her form unmoving as she gazed down at her husband intently…as though she was watching every breath he took. Someone had convinced her to change her clothing, thankfully, for she was no longer bloody, now dressed in a woolen gown that had to belong to a Ruathen woman, judging by the size of it.
I walked in and found a fairly acceptable place to sit down. I decided I would tell them what I had found come the morning. After all I was beginning to feel; tired as well. And before I managed to find reverie I finally took note of my appearance and laughed. I got strange looks for doing so, but so what? It was a momentous occasion after all, and deserving a note...a bit of irony. My tunic…my worst tunic that I had worn in anticipation of a battle was spotless. It was the first time I have ever been in a battle within a mile of Keledrial and managed to not get any blood on me.
When morning came I explained, not only to my friends, but to the elders and leaders of the Ruathen, my findings in the journal. No one seemed surprised at the wizard's deception. Only angry at the perfidy of it all. And the main worry was whether the pool was gone for good. I did not have to worry about answering that, though, for the shamans of Tempus had been awake all night praying for that very same answer. Their reply: yes. According to their prayers and the response given by Tempus, the pool was gone, dispelled by the magic of the Fury of Battle and the warrior who wielded it: Keledrial. The claimed they would continue their prayers to see if there was anything that could be done for Keledrial, but in the meantime Ian and the elders declared the Keledrial was a hero…along with Eirik and the others elders who perished. Funeral ceremonies were being planned for the honored dead, but it would be several days before the funerals or the burials actually occurred. So we had plenty of time to wait…to recover.
We waited for some change in Keledrial, but he did not so much as stir. On the second day, Lita finally awoke, looking pale and sickly, but alive and full of her usual sarcastic wit. A third day passed, and a fourth….and still we waited, and prayed for Keledrial to awake…beginning to fear, though, that such an event might never happen.
"Tobias" Raede Elarnon