VII
"I think she is angry with me, Cadwared."
"That would be terrible indeed, Fychan," Cadwared said, a smirk on his face as he once again intentionally spoke Argent. Valtaya's eyes gleamed with rage, but for the moment the young druid would say nothing to her captors as they made their jokes at her expense. "How will you go on with your life?"
"I do not know that I could go on," Fychan replied theatrically, even pretending to wipe a tear from his eye as he considered the prospect. Valtaya cast one last, furious glance at the wizard, then turned her gaze away from the two dark elves.
It was just past nightfall, and once again the drow had returned to Argent. Valtaya had been dropped rudely to her knees just outside the portal by her skeletal porters, left under the guard of the two males as Talaith and the other drow female corralled their entourage. The blackened forest around her was deathly silent except for a faint rumble in the distance, a sure sign that the dark elves' fires still raged.
"Perhaps now she will try to escape," Cadwared said, squatting next to the druid. The assassin gently touched the back of his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress, but the young druid pulled away from him immediately. "Let me know when you run, darling," Cadwared said, locking eyes with her as she tried to back away. "I'm still waiting for the chase."
"Burn in hell, drow," Valtaya snarled. Cadwared chuckled maliciously at the epithet, but thankfully stood and walked away. Fychan hesitated for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back. Valtaya turned a hateful glare on the wizard, and for a long moment the two lapsed into silence.
"You must be thirsty," Fychan finally said, almost sounding sincere.
"You tricked me!" Valtaya exclaimed, almost forgetting her restraints as she tried to stand and rush the wizard. The young druid's memory was hazy past her acceptance of the wizard's apparent kindness in the cave, but she knew enough that the wizard had betrayed her confidence and drugged her. Even now the drug's effects lingered, providing her with a dull ache in her head and faint nausea. Alone now and away from the others, Fychan seemed almost contrite.
"I had to," the wizard said quietly, glancing over his shoulder. "I do not wish to hurt you, but the others wanted information. They wanted to beat it out of you. I convinced them that the drug would be a better way."
Valtaya opened her mouth to spit out a retort, but the wizard's apology seemed almost sincere. The young druid paused for a long moment, trying to force herself to remember that the drow were manipulative, self serving, and utterly evil, but the wizard seemed too honest to be lumped into that category.
"You're going to drug me again," Valtaya guessed, studying the drow's face for any kind of reaction.
"You already told them what they wanted, Valtaya," Fychan explained, taking the waterskin from his robes. Valtaya shifted nervously at that, praying that she had not revealed too much information about her home during her coerced conversation. While she could recall nothing overtly damaging during her drug induced conversation, her memory of the interrogation was hazy at best. "After all, we know that Oakenbough sits on the River Embléz, to the east," Fychan said. "We know where King Setanta and your father live. What more do we really need to find out?"
Valtaya froze, uncertain how to react. She had indeed given away far too much, but tried with all her might to keep her shock and horror from her face. If she made no noticeable reaction, perhaps Fychan would think that she had lied…
"You are pale, Valtaya," Fychan observed. "Your ordeal has sapped your strength. We have given you no food. At least you will have some water, to keep up your strength." Fychan paused theatrically, then gestured to the armored females gathering up their entourage. "After all, you will very soon have to face Talaith and Rhonwen."
Valtaya started to lean forward, almost ready to accept the water, but suddenly stopped herself. It was a trick. It had to be. Valtaya straightened herself as much as she could and turned away, refusing to take the water.
"No water," the druid said, trying to sound defiant.
"If that is what you want," Fychan said, shrugging in resignation. The wizard replaced the waterskin in the folds of his robes, and for a long moment the two lapsed into silence. Finally, Valtaya looked back to Fychan, who was studying something in the darkness.
"Why are you doing this?" the druid asked. Fychan hesitated, his eyes lingering on the charred trees, but then turned to her and shrugged.
"One does not question a matron mother's will," the wizard replied, most of his attention elsewhere.
"But how can you just kill and destroy like this?" Valtaya demanded. Fychan chuckled lightly as he finally gave her his full attention.
"I sometimes wonder how it is that you faeries have survived since we went below ground," the wizard said. "Your mindset is just… bizarre. How can you not kill and destroy? How is it that you have never been destroyed yourselves? The strong survive, Valtaya."
"You don't have to burn down forests to show strength," Valtaya countered. Fychan turned back to her, his amiable mood darkening quickly with her words. "You don't have to kill everyone you come across. That's not how it should be."
"You are a fool, Valtaya," Fychan said. "You have justified to me every condemnation of the faeries that I have ever heard. You are weak and a fool."
Valtaya's mouth dropped open at the words, unable to comprehend the wizard's horrible philosophy. Fychan lingered for only a moment longer, his face drawn up in a hateful snarl, then he spat on the ground in front of her and turned on his heel.
He wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief, but he was afraid one of Valtaya's captors would hear him.
Fife moved cautiously through the remains of the underbrush, intentionally covered with ash to help him blend into his blackened surroundings. The ranger ducked between the trees with an arrow on his bowstring, his mind still reeling with the impact of his discovery. When he had first seen them emerge from the shimmering portal just after night had fallen, Fife had hardly been able to believe his eyes; four drow, four demons from the stories his parents had told him as a child, four things that were not supposed to exist, had crossed back into argent from their daytime shelter, accompanied by an entourage of more than a half dozen dwarf sized skeletons, four more of the spidery monsters, and a bound, ash covered Valtaya. Even now the ranger prayed that his eyes were deceiving him, or that somehow a group of goblins or orcs had managed to change their shapes, but the truth was undeniable. The drow were real, and now they were burning down Argent.
Fife knew that he had to reach Oakenbough and warn the king, but for now he had a more direct goal. For the moment, the drow had moved away from Valtaya, leaving her relatively alone on one corner of their camp. The dwarven skeletons that had carried her out of the portal were for the moment aiding the chain mail clad drow females, while the ettercaps had begun to scurry off into the forest. If he was to free Valtaya at all, now would have to be the time to do so.
Fife shouldered his bow and dropped to his stomach, carefully inching his way through the ashes and burned briars towards Valtaya. For the moment the druid seemed oblivious to his presence; Fife guessed that she was still watching the wizard that had been talking with her only a moment ago. That wizard, and the other male drow, were both engaged in a conversation of their own now, but the ranger made certain to keep an eye on the wizard that had apparently almost spotted him.
The wizard turned back one more time. Fife froze where he was, lying absolutely still on the ground as he practically stared into the drow's eyes. For an agonizingly long time the dark elf watched the darkness. Fife slowly tried to gather his legs beneath him, ready to jump to his feet and sprint if need be, but finally the drow turned back to his companion. This time Fife had to exhale.
Valtaya suddenly stiffened. Thankfully, the young druid had the presence of mind not to turn back to him, but as he inched forward a little further he could see her trying to glance surreptitiously over her shoulder.
"Is someone there?" she whispered. Fife crawled the last few feet to her.
"Try not to give me away," the ranger said quietly.
"Fife?" Valtaya asked, keeping her voice low.
"Yes," the ranger answered. "Now just sit there and pretend I'm not here. That wizard you were talking to has almost spotted me twice already."
"Okay," Valtaya said, slumping a bit again. Fife took out his dagger and turned to cut her free, but stopped as he considered the restraints the drow had used. Instead of rope of even chain manacles, the druid was bound by sticky webbing that covered her hands and feet completely. For a second the ranger tried to figure out how to start, but then just poked into the webbing with his dagger to start cutting.
He had only just started when he found his dagger stuck fast to the webbing, as well. Fife tried to yank his blade free, but the dagger had been completely trapped by the webbing.
"Mother's grace," the ranger grumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.
"What's wrong?" Valtaya whispered nervously, glancing again over her shoulder.
"Um, the dagger's stuck," Fife answered. "Give me a moment while I think of something else."
"They… when I was trapped in their web, they poured brandy over me," Valtaya said. "That dissolved the webs before. Maybe it'll work here?"
"Well, do you have any brandy on you?" Fife inquired.
"No," Valtaya answered. "I… sort of hoped you would."
"What a pair we make," Fife said. The comment made Valtaya stifle a giggle, but the druid suddenly stiffened again.
"Fife? Um, hurry?" she whispered. The ranger could only guess that the robe wearing drow had turned back to the druid.
"Okay, new plan," Fife said, pulling his short sword from its scabbard. "Try to move your hands and feet as much as possible, and I'll slice the webs with one shot."
"He's coming," Valtaya said urgently. "Just get out of here!"
"Do what I tell you!" Fife snapped, louder than he should have. Valtaya gasped, but she complied with the ranger's hasty order. Fife jumped to one knee, seeing the wizard already halfway through a spell even as the ranger brought his sword down on the webbing.
Fife's sword ripped through the bonds like he had planned, but in the same instant four magic missiles slammed into the ranger. Fife staggered back a step with the impact, but before he could hit the ground Valtaya jumped to her feet and somehow managed to steady him. Seeing that his spell had not finished the ranger, the drow was already shouting an alarm to his companions.
"Are you all right?" Valtaya asked urgently, trying to hold up the ranger.
"Let's get out of here," Fife directed quickly, seeing the other dark elves responding to their comrade's shouts. One of the females had drawn a long, serrated sword and was rushing forward, but the other was already into a spell. Without another thought the ranger grabbed Valtaya by the arm and dragged her into the darkness with him, escaping only a moment before he heard the baying of a shadow mastiff behind them.
Fife hastily dragged his bow off of his shoulder as the two elves sprinted through the charred trees, praying that it would not come down to combat. With four drow and an assortment of minions, Fife had no doubt in his mind that he and Valtaya would stand no chance against their foes. Already, though, the shadow mastiff was gaining on the pair, and the ranger was starting to see shapes on the edges of his keen vision to the south. He had no idea how the drow could possibly run so quickly, but the ranger was beginning to feel a trap closing around him. Valtaya, already panicky from the shadow mastiff's mystical baying, began to turn north, but Fife suddenly realized the herding tactic for what it was.
"South! Run south!" Fife ordered, keeping hold of the druid's arm. Valtaya fought him for a brief moment, but then turned and raced for all she was worth. Fife grabbed an arrow from his quiver and nocked it on the run, ready for anything that would come in front of him.
A drow in blackened leather suddenly appeared in front of him, drawing a pair of short swords and racing forward with superhuman speed. Fife only managed to fire one arrow before the drow reached him, but his missile hit its mark and thudded into the dark elf's shoulder only a second before he took a swipe at the ranger. Fife wasted no time trying to draw his own swords, instead simply lowering his shoulder and charging right into his opponent. Ranger and drow crashed into each other with a jarring impact, but Fife's greater weight won out. The dark elf's strikes went wide as Fife rammed through him, and the drow cried out in pain as the arrow in his shoulder was driven even deeper with the attack. Thinking he had cleared the way, Fife continued forward, racing at full speed into the forest.
A shadowy duplicate of the drow suddenly hit him from the side, raking into his chest with an icy sword of shadow. While it left no wound, the ranger felt a chill run through his entire body, sapping his strength and nearly causing him to stumble. Valtaya nearly bowled over the ranger from behind, but she managed to keep from knocking him down and instead propelled him past the shadow. Reeling from the icy shock and ready to fall from his wounds, Fife nonetheless sprinted onward, Valtaya only a step behind.
They ran for what seemed like forever, turning west as they heard pursuit behind them, and then turning north as Fife tried to circle around his foes. The initial speed that the drow had used to overtake them must have been magical, for as time wore on the dark elves' pursuit fell behind. Still the ranger kept running, until the pair had finally reached a Y shaped junction of three small brooks. Finally, gasping for breath, the ranger dropped to one knee. Valtaya stumbled to the ground behind him, wheezing and holding her side.
"I… think we… managed… to lose them," Fife panted, turning back to his companion. Valtaya nodded in wordless agreement, unable to find the breath to even speak. Wiping the sweat streaming down his face with one filthy hand, Fife glanced around him to take stock of the situation. While they had escaped the drow for the moment, the dark elves were still between them and Oakenbough. While there might be a few nomadic elven bands to the west, living on the very fringes of Argent's territory, the ranger had to get back to the elven capitol for help.
"Mother's grace," Valtaya said, finally regaining her breath and looking at her burned companion. "Are… are you okay, Fife?"
"I'll live, for the moment," Fife replied, looking over the blisters on his left side again. They were certainly painful, but he could wait at least until the druid rested for her healing spells. For the time being, Fife was far more interested in trying to find a way back to the east. The repercussions of real, living drow in their own forest would be monumental, and the threat that they posed had to be addressed immediately. A few scars and injuries along the way were trivial compared to the danger of surface elves' supposedly mythical cousins.
Scuffling behind him caught his attention. Fife turned back to Valtaya to see the young druid wiping her hands against one of the burned trees, trying to remove the film of webbing from her fingers. While she had been free enough to run, the webs still covered her hands like mittens, and despite her best efforts she seemed to be unable to do anything other than collect pieces of charcoal on the sticky strands.
"I can't get this stuff off of me," the druid said in frustration, turning to her rescuer. Fife stood up and walked back to her. "I can't cast any spells with my fingers stuck together like this!"
"Well, I guess we can try to burn it off," Fife suggested in a serious tone, examining the druid's hands for a moment. Valtaya looked up in shock at the ranger's comment, until Fife could no longer hold in his smile.
"Seriously," Valtaya said, though she could not help but laugh as well. Fife let out a last chuckle before he reached behind him and drew a dagger from his belt.
"Let's try not to lose this one," the ranger said, holding the blade up for a second.
"I don't think we lost the first one," Valtaya said with a bit of a giggle, pointing to her feet. Fife's first dagger was still stuck to her left ankle, sticking out of the ashes and dirt that had clung the webs on her boots. Fife shook his head and knelt down, tugging at the blade but unable to pull it free.
"I think you'd better sit down for a moment, before I end up pulling you off your feet," the ranger suggested. Valtaya nodded and lowered herself to the ground. Fife examined the trapped blade for a moment, then ripped it straight up through the webbing, finally tearing it free.
"Very nice," Valtaya said with a smirk. "Now, my hands?"
"Right, the hands," Fife said. Valtaya held her hands out in front of her, but Fife could barely see where each finger began and ended through the webs. Fife shook his head in frustration. "Well, just scream if I cut you, I guess," the ranger said with a shrug.
"That's comforting," Valtaya teased. Fife gave the druid a smile, then carefully went to work cutting the remains of the web away from her fingers. Between the web's toughness and the ranger's care not to cut his companion, Fife could see that it would be no easy task.
"This is going to be a long night," the ranger said with a sigh.
"We are taking too much time. The sun will be rising soon."
"The mastiff is having a hard time keeping the trail," Cadwared explained, turning back to Talaith as the priestess paced behind him. Talaith's magically summoned shadow mastiff continued to sniff at the blackened ground, trying to pick up the spoor of the two surface elves again. Talaith knew enough about the faerie devotees of the Mother to know that a druid was impossible to track by almost any means, but she had hoped that her mastiff would be able to find and keep the male faerie's scent with little difficulty.
"We don't have time for this," Talaith said, glancing to the sky again. The sun, that horrible ball of flame that bathed the surface world in its blinding light, was an hour at most from rising. "Pick up the trail again and find them!"
"I'm doing what I can," Cadwared grumbled, kneeling and studying the ashen ground again. The mastiff growled slightly, and started off to the north once more. "This is their territory, not ours. And the female does not seem to leave tracks behind her."
"Then track the male," Rhonwen snarled, her hand drifting down to her snake headed whip again. Talaith steadied her handmaiden, all too aware that punishment would have to wait until the faeries were found and captured. "Just recover the sacrifice."
"We have more pressing concerns than mere sacrifice, sister," Fychan put in, following along behind the others. Rhonwen whirled on the insolent make, but Fychan continued before she could open her mouth. "Two faeries have now seen us, and can return to inform their leaders of our presence if we do not find them."
"A trifling concern, at best," Rhonwen huffed, still offended by the possibility that anything could be of secondary importance to a sacrifice for the Spider Queen. While Talaith could not fully stomach the secondary importance of devotions to Lolth, the noble realized the importance of her brother's words. "A dozen faeries or more have already fallen to our power. They are weak in both thought and deed."
"Ah, but we had the element of surprise before," Fychan countered smoothly. Talaith could not help but agree with her brother; the old druid they had killed before capturing the faerie Valtaya had been a powerful caster, and the priestess had considered it as much a factor of luck and the Spider Queen's favor that he had been immolated so quickly in the flame strikes and fireballs. "And two managed to not only escape us, but wound Cadwared and disappear almost entirely."
"Males are naturally incompetent," Talaith put in, cutting Rhonwen off before she could launch a furious retort at the wizard. Cadwared snorted at the indirect insult to his abilities, but wisely kept his mouth shut. "And if you are finished, Fychan," Talaith added angrily, unhappy with her brother's almost sacrilegious comments to her own handmaiden, "perhaps you can stop babbling endlessly and find the faeries that you lost."
"Something ahead!" Cadwared suddenly whispered, dropping into a crouch and drawing his swords. The other drow did likewise, and as they fell into silence Talaith could easily hear what had caught her scout's attention. Somewhere ahead, several figures were moving about in the darkness.
"Too loud to be elves," Fychan whispered, moving slowly alongside his sister. Talaith nodded, her eyes on the indistinct forms ahead of her. Cadwared was already slipping forward into the shadows, while the rest of the drow moved forward far enough to see the figures clearly.
"What are they?" Rhonwen asked quietly as she examined the beings ahead. Talaith shrugged, and turned a questioning glance to her brother.
"Too large and too hairy to be elves," Fychan observed aloud, watching the creatures ahead. There were nine or ten of them, sharing an uneasy camp in the silence of the charred forest. Several were asleep under blankets, while three others were awake and watching the darkness around them intently. "But they aren't large enough to be ogres. I would assume that these are humans."
"Humans," Talaith repeated, absently wiping a few loose strands of hair from her face. "Are they allies of the faeries? Or are they here to take advantage of the fire?"
"That is impossible to know," Fychan answered. "I have not read much of humans, and what I have learned was not specific. They seemed to be both friend and enemy to the faeries. At any rate, they have never seemed to be as dangerous as a faerie, and certainly unworthy of consideration by a drow."
"I say we destroy them," Rhonwen suggested, "and not chance their finding and joining with the faeries."
Talaith considered her handmaiden's advice for a long moment. While it was possible that these humans could prove useful allies, tracking their quarry during the day while the drow rested, the priestess was still unready to trust any surface beings, no matter how potentially useful they might be. And if they were currently friends of the faeries, they could become just one more problem in the future. Her decision made, the priestess turned back to Fychan and nodded.
"Destroy them," Talaith said simply. Fychan smiled, his wand of lightning already in his hand.
"I thought you would never ask, dear sister."