Chapter 20
[A/N: If you have not yet played Hordes of the Underdark, or reached Chapter 3, you may want to wait until you have before reading this. It isn't a big spoiler, but more of a shock and surprise. It doesn't matter to me if you have or have not played that chapter yet, but it's kind of fun to leave that surprise to the game, not a story.]
Valen knew something was wrong with Donnia, but at the moment that was the least of his worries. He had been fighting his taint since finding the Seer and knew when it was winning. His blood always seemed to be boiling. True, he always felt some of his more demonic urges no matter the situation, but he was able to control them without acting upon them. The urge to lay waste to everything about him was growing more persistent.
Nathyrra watched Valen. She could sense he was fighting his taint; his tail, which normally swung lightly with his steps, was violently moving back and forth. She hoped he would stay in control. Having fought at his side she never wanted to be on the receiving end of his attack.
The cold never ceased. The wind never stopped howling. The hope kept dwindling. Donnia's heart was fading with each repeated step. Each time she would see an area that they had yet to search they always seemed to find their footsteps from earlier travels in that area. That was the problem with Cania, everything looked different and everything looked the same. The wails of spirits being devoured by Mephistopheles reached every corner of this small piece of hell. Thousands of small fires glowed around those gathered near it.
They kept walking in silence; each caught in their own thoughts, worries, fears, pain.
Donnia, having followed her own footsteps to this point, saw a place where their tracks did not go. Donnia motioned for the other two to follow her, but her hand stopped before it raised from the hilt of her sword. Suddenly the pain in her side became all-consuming and Donnia dropped to her knees in the ice and snow. She had turned the corner and the great dark mouth of the cave loomed before her.
Nathyrra was the first to reach Donnia. "What is it? What happened?"
Valen dropped down to the ground next to her. He said nothing but just watched her. The part of him that had grown to love her wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her. The other part of him wanted to reach out and snap her neck, to watch her bleed, to feel the life flow from her body. He shook his head swiftly trying to clear those urges from his mind.
Her breathing was heavily labored, being forced between her clenched teeth. The pain was so horrible it made her dizzy, nauseous, and gave her the resolve to stand back up. It gave her something material to feed on. Her hate for Mephistopheles and her current state were all strong, but this physical pain to her body gave her something to feed on.
Slowly, Donnia got back up to her feet and approached the cave.
A small dark creature loomed outside the mouth of the cave. It had the initial appearance of an odd dog, but the closer Donnia came to it, she saw that it closely resembled nothing she had ever seen before in her life.
As Donnia approached, the small creature ran over to her. It made several noises akin to a whimper and brushed up against her leg. Donnia reached down and stroked its head, surprised at the warmth it exuded against the cold. "Are you the Scrivener?" she asked it.
At the sound of that name, the small creature seemed to become very excited and made different noises.
Taking that for an assent, Donnia nearly wept. "Please, I need your help. I must find the woman who led the people against Mephistopheles."
As she spoke, images came into her mind. Through out their playing in her mind, she sensed a feeling of loss. "Are you looking for these?"
Again, the Scrivener became very excited at Donnia's question. Donnia had no idea how she was to find what the Scrivener was looking for; a boy with his father and an oak tree. She described these images to Nathyrra and Valen.
Nathyrra thought this over for a moment before answering, "Maybe it refers to the pillars all around this area. Each of them has different words or meanings to them."
At this, the Scrivener hopped over to Nathyrra and barked excitedly. Nathyrra grinned and said, "I guess I was right."
The three set off to find the pillar that would represent the pictures Donnia had seen in her mind.
* * * * * * * * * Donnia walked up to the final pillar. When they had found the correct pillar, new images were transplanted into Donnia's mind. This time the Scrivener became very excited and began carving a name into the ice next to the pillar. After the first three letters were revealed, Donnia knew the name. It was a name that she doubted she would ever forget.
As the Scrivener stepped back from its new carving, both Valen and Nathyrra quickly looked to Donnia, uncertain of what her reaction would be.
Donnia stood staring at the name in disbelief. Shock froze her to the ground. She could see her reflection over the name in the smooth surface of the icy walls. It seemed sort of ironic to her and she chuckled.
The other two simply stared as they heard her laugh. They were not surprised when the laughter turned to tears.
It seemed that Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande would always survive.
[A/N: If you have not yet played Hordes of the Underdark, or reached Chapter 3, you may want to wait until you have before reading this. It isn't a big spoiler, but more of a shock and surprise. It doesn't matter to me if you have or have not played that chapter yet, but it's kind of fun to leave that surprise to the game, not a story.]
Valen knew something was wrong with Donnia, but at the moment that was the least of his worries. He had been fighting his taint since finding the Seer and knew when it was winning. His blood always seemed to be boiling. True, he always felt some of his more demonic urges no matter the situation, but he was able to control them without acting upon them. The urge to lay waste to everything about him was growing more persistent.
Nathyrra watched Valen. She could sense he was fighting his taint; his tail, which normally swung lightly with his steps, was violently moving back and forth. She hoped he would stay in control. Having fought at his side she never wanted to be on the receiving end of his attack.
The cold never ceased. The wind never stopped howling. The hope kept dwindling. Donnia's heart was fading with each repeated step. Each time she would see an area that they had yet to search they always seemed to find their footsteps from earlier travels in that area. That was the problem with Cania, everything looked different and everything looked the same. The wails of spirits being devoured by Mephistopheles reached every corner of this small piece of hell. Thousands of small fires glowed around those gathered near it.
They kept walking in silence; each caught in their own thoughts, worries, fears, pain.
Donnia, having followed her own footsteps to this point, saw a place where their tracks did not go. Donnia motioned for the other two to follow her, but her hand stopped before it raised from the hilt of her sword. Suddenly the pain in her side became all-consuming and Donnia dropped to her knees in the ice and snow. She had turned the corner and the great dark mouth of the cave loomed before her.
Nathyrra was the first to reach Donnia. "What is it? What happened?"
Valen dropped down to the ground next to her. He said nothing but just watched her. The part of him that had grown to love her wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her. The other part of him wanted to reach out and snap her neck, to watch her bleed, to feel the life flow from her body. He shook his head swiftly trying to clear those urges from his mind.
Her breathing was heavily labored, being forced between her clenched teeth. The pain was so horrible it made her dizzy, nauseous, and gave her the resolve to stand back up. It gave her something material to feed on. Her hate for Mephistopheles and her current state were all strong, but this physical pain to her body gave her something to feed on.
Slowly, Donnia got back up to her feet and approached the cave.
A small dark creature loomed outside the mouth of the cave. It had the initial appearance of an odd dog, but the closer Donnia came to it, she saw that it closely resembled nothing she had ever seen before in her life.
As Donnia approached, the small creature ran over to her. It made several noises akin to a whimper and brushed up against her leg. Donnia reached down and stroked its head, surprised at the warmth it exuded against the cold. "Are you the Scrivener?" she asked it.
At the sound of that name, the small creature seemed to become very excited and made different noises.
Taking that for an assent, Donnia nearly wept. "Please, I need your help. I must find the woman who led the people against Mephistopheles."
As she spoke, images came into her mind. Through out their playing in her mind, she sensed a feeling of loss. "Are you looking for these?"
Again, the Scrivener became very excited at Donnia's question. Donnia had no idea how she was to find what the Scrivener was looking for; a boy with his father and an oak tree. She described these images to Nathyrra and Valen.
Nathyrra thought this over for a moment before answering, "Maybe it refers to the pillars all around this area. Each of them has different words or meanings to them."
At this, the Scrivener hopped over to Nathyrra and barked excitedly. Nathyrra grinned and said, "I guess I was right."
The three set off to find the pillar that would represent the pictures Donnia had seen in her mind.
* * * * * * * * * Donnia walked up to the final pillar. When they had found the correct pillar, new images were transplanted into Donnia's mind. This time the Scrivener became very excited and began carving a name into the ice next to the pillar. After the first three letters were revealed, Donnia knew the name. It was a name that she doubted she would ever forget.
As the Scrivener stepped back from its new carving, both Valen and Nathyrra quickly looked to Donnia, uncertain of what her reaction would be.
Donnia stood staring at the name in disbelief. Shock froze her to the ground. She could see her reflection over the name in the smooth surface of the icy walls. It seemed sort of ironic to her and she chuckled.
The other two simply stared as they heard her laugh. They were not surprised when the laughter turned to tears.
It seemed that Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande would always survive.