Chapter 17
The dark elf kept his borrowed cowl over his face while he aided Baelas in scouting the forest for orcs, goblins, and other evil creatures. The sun did not sting his eyes as intensely anymore, but still enough to keep his face covered.
On his belt the drow wore two simple long swords lent to him by the sun elf, as his own were still in the protective shadows of his own hut. A month had passed since his arrive at the grove, and already the leaves began to change colors and fall, warning of winter's fast approach.
"You know, Sab'vrae," Baelas said offhand, "If you want to use your own equipment and still retain their unique magical properties, I know an elven cleric of Eilistraee and a half-elf mage who could possibly assist you in the matter."
Disregarding the notion as to why Baelas never mentioned this before, Sab'vrae instead asked, "So, even some surface elves worship The Dark Maiden?"
"You of all people should know Eilistraee will accept anyone into her church that honestly believes in benevolence and aiding those in need." The sun elf shrugged.
"I do know this. That's not what I meant," Sab'vrae corrected, "Generally, surface elves and drow elves do not get along, yet you know a surface elf who venerates a drow goddess?"
"We don't hate you, my friend," Baelas pointed out, "we merely just acted on our past experience with raiding drow parties and spies -- with caution. But yes, there are some surface elves who embrace the thought of uniting the fey folk as allies of good on the surface just as much as yourself."
"I suppose I shouldn't stereotype against others," Sab'vrae mused grimly, "just as I don't wish for others to stereotype against me."
"We're all flawed in many ways, my dark friend," Baelas grinned, jabbing the drow lightly with his elbow. In their short time together, the two elves had become fast friends. Though Sab'vrae enjoyed the entire grove's company, he found himself attached to the sun elf most of all, seeing the same wry and slightly mischievous sense of humor he himself had discovered within himself upon his escape to the surface.
His conversion to Eilistraee's faith already turned his moral values and beliefs year ago, but it was his flight from Ched Nasad's evil ways and chaotic, dangerous lifestyle that allowed Sab'vrae's apathetic outlook on life to ebb away. In a mere month, the drow found his constantly grumpy and cynical mood to slowly vanish, replaced with elation and good humor. Though still thinking over Nai'lan's offer, the drow found euphoria in the simplicity of nature, from the sweet scented rose to the might of the furry grizzly bear. Though the Underdark held many creatures, plants, and an unusual beauty of its own, nearly all of it seemed dull in comparison. How he survived half a century in its depths, the dark elf never understood.
Sab'vrae's main reason for his delay in an answer was his discovery of certain restrictions druids must adhere by. Only light and medium suits of armor were allowed, so long as they were of nonmetal make. Metal weapons were discouraged, but permitted by most nature deities if the user sacrificed some of his druid abilities. Well-tuned to his style of fighting, Sab'vrae refused to give up his long swords, but wasn't sure if he enjoyed the notion of limited druid skills.
Bringing the topic back to its original subject, Sab'vrae laughed, "I thank you for the offer on the priestess, my friend. But don't rush on it or inconvenience yourself to contact her on my behalf. I don't need my piwafwi's extra protection at the moment, and for now, these simple blades will suit my just fine. Most of the enemies we've encountered fall easily enough when stabbed by these."
Baelas grinned, "True enough, drow. True enough." Sab'vrae jerked his head to the path behind them. The sun elf's face fell, "Do you hear something, Sab'vrae?" All elves had keen hearing, but, as the druids quickly learned, the drow did most of all. Even outside of his native caverns, the ex-elderboy could hear hostile creatures approaching moments before his lighter skinned kinsmen.
"Something's making a lot of noise, heading this way." The drow noted. "Don't you hear it?" the two fell silent, each straining his ears. Finally, after a long pause, Baelas detected the distant crunching of leaves and twigs.
"Sounds like an orc band. C'mon." He urged his companion to follow him into the cover of nearby bushes. The two fey men concealed themselves and observed silently as a dozen orcs stomped through the path, some carrying large loot sacks, all brandishing crude weapons.
"Where you think they're headed?" Sab'vrae whispered lowly to his comrade.
"There's a settlement of caves nearby -- probably heading back to their lair from a raid, or preparing for one." Baelas observed, turning his head in the direction of the passing orcs.
"Well…" Sab'vrae grinned, his near-white teeth contrasting with his black skin, gripping the hilts of his blades, "shall we investigate further?" Baelas returned the smile, pulling out his longbow.
"Let's, indeed. I'll take the route by trees -- you follow on ground." With that, the sun elf scaled the nearest oak. Sab'vrae nodded in agreement, silently shadowing the orc band's movements.
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The scouting duo followed the orcs for a few miles, avoiding discovery. Soon, as Baelas predicted, the monsters arrived at a cave opening, lighting a few crude torches before entering. Once the last orc disappeared into the cave's depths, Baelas dropped from the trees, meeting Sab'vrae by the entrance.
"Go in?" the drow asked. His partner nodded.
"Orcs often disturb the Balance with their destructive ways," the sun elf stated, "Let's see if we can discover their purpose first, though, before we attack. Most of the orcs around here prey on the merchants and other travelers through Lurkwood, so I suppose that's what this band's up to. Still, you never know when something bigger is afoot."
"Good point. Let's go." Sab'vrae crept into the shadows, while Baelas, using his druidic abilities, shapeshifted into a wolf. The duo quietly padded behind the monsters, following them down a long, winding tunnel. Finally, the dozen orcs entered a large cavern, obviously their living space. Only one orc currently occupied it before they came, and he sat upon a simple throne made by assembling large stones in the shape of a chair.
This larger and obviously dominate male snarled something in the guttural orcish language. Sab'vrae furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember his somewhat half forgotten orcish. Something about a house and a ranger… He turned to Baelas, whose wolf form revealed nothing of his inner feelings. The drow listened closely to the orcs' grunting, roughly translating inside his head as quickly as possible.
He managed to figure out that this particular orc band was plotting against one of the forest's native inhabitants, either for standing in their way or just for fun -- the drow was unsure of his translation on the last part. More importantly, he understood they were up to no good, and that's what mattered. He exchanged looks with the wolfish Baelas, who nodded his furry head.
Unsheathing his weapons, the drow fighter silently charged forward, his transformed friend leaping above him. Baelas landed on a surprised orc's head, biting and clawing. The unintelligent beast screamed in pain, waving his ax about in an attempt to thwart the druid. Instead, he blindly embedded his weapon in the skull of a fellow orc who had the misfortune of standing too close.
The other orcs clambered away in confusion, only to find themselves attacked from behind. Sab'vrae severed one orc's head and impaled another before the band realized the other threat in their home. The leader screeched, scrambling out of his throne.
"Dru! Dru!" he wailed, pointing at the dark elf in fear. Sab'vrae grinned, realizing an advantage he held due to his heritage. Whirling his twin blades dangerously, the warrior skewered three more of the creatures before the rest regained enough sense to fight back. Six orcs fell upon the dexterous drow, brandishing axes and crudely made swords. Sab'vrae ducked and dodged, countering the blows best he could. Though enjoying the heat of battle, he also wished to live out the day. He yelled over to Baelas for aid.
The wolf druid twitched his ears in hearing and quickly ripped the orc's throat out. He leapt from the dead monster and latched onto the nearest orc's ear, distracting it from Sab'vrae. The grunt howled in agony, attempting to lop the druid's head off. Baelas leapt away, causing the orc to half decapitate himself.
Seven down, six to go. He thought with a mental grin, chewing on his current opponent's nose.
Now facing four orcs instead of six, Sab'vrae parried the blows more easily, but still suffered a nasty cut to his ribs and thigh. Wincing slightly, but overall ignoring the minor injuries, the drow embedded one sword into an orc's heart, the other in another's throat. He tugged, but neither sword gave way, stuck in the orcs' bodies.
Realizing this, the remaining two attacking orcs grinned, each charging towards Sab'vrae from opposite directions, sandwiching the drow. Improvising, Sab'vrae bent his legs, then, using all his lower body strength, pushed himself off the ground, using his grip on the swords as makeshift balance holds. The dark elf split his legs, leaving more room between him and the orcs.
Understanding the tactful move too late, the shocked orcs tried to skid to a halt, only to collide with each other, incidentally skewering themselves of the other's weapons. Sab'vrae landed on their bodies and quickly leapt off. He placed a foot on one orc's body and managed to yank his first blade from its chest. He repeated this effort with the second, tugging the second sword from the orc's neck. The drow turned on the orc leader with Baelas, who'd since dispatched the last opponent.
"Pleez! Meeb surrenda! Donz kills meeb!" he begged in choppy Common. Baelas growled, leaping upon the large orc and swiftly digging his teeth into its neck. The orc screamed with a low gurgle, soon falling limp. Baelas released the dead orc and shifted back to his elven form, lips dripping with dark blood. He wiped his mouth off, turning to Sab'vrae. Similarly, the dark elf wiped the blood from his weapons with an orc's tunic.
"They were planning to attack Olren, a human ranger that resides in this forest, and a good friend of mine." The sun elf growled. "It sounded like they already ransacked his house, so we should probably check their loot bags."
"Good idea," Sab'vrae agreed, and with that, the two elves set to work.
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Rushing through the trees as much as their overworked legs allowed, the burdened companions soon reached a small clearing, upon which a small log cabin stood. Panting, the sun elf bounded up onto the wooden porch, pounding his fist against the door.
"Bah! I'm bloody comin', hold yer damn knockin'!" a gruff voice yelled from inside. Footsteps thumped from inside before the front door creaked open. A buff human man on the verge of hitting middle-age stood in the doorway. A shock of bright red hair sprouted from his head in an unruly manner. A thick bushel of facial hair covered his jaw, otherwise he remained clean shaven. His simple cloth and leather armor reflected his nature based profession: the material was dyed in earthen hues of browns, dark greens, and other neutral colors. A sheathed scimitar hung closely strapped to his hip, and his thick boots ran only up to just above his ankles.
The man held a crossbow at the ready -- apparently, he was used to hostile visitors -- but relaxed at the sight of Baelas. His ease lasted only a moment, however. Upon eyeing the drow behind the sun elf druid, the human tensed again, snapping his crossbow up to shoot, snarling in a string of strange curses.
Baelas calmly knocked the weapon aside with his knuckles. "At ease, Olren, Sab'vrae's a friend; he's one of the Dark Maiden's folk."
"Ne'er thought I'd live ta see one o' her kin'." Olren muttered, tossing his weapon aside. He eyed the large sacks on the elves' backs, "Wha' ye elfkin fools doin', breakin' yer backs ou' 'ere? Get in, get in 'ere!" He motioned the companions inside, to which the elves quickly complied.
"Sorry fer the mess," Olren apologized, closing his front door, waving his hand at his cluttered interior, "But some blast'd beasts ransacked th' place while I was out." He yanked up two overturned chairs and set them straight, offering the seats to his guests. The two elves dropped their sacks and sat themselves down.
"Actually, that's what we're here for, Olren." Baelas said, pulling open his sack.
"'Ey! Tha' be my missin' stuff!" the ranger exclaimed, examining the bag's contents, "Wher' ye get it?"
Sab'vrae cleared his throat and the human turned to his direction, "We found them amongst a band of orcs plotting against you. Baelas and I already dispatched them." Olren nodded, rubbing his small beard.
"There been somethin' buggin' an' plottin' against me," the ranger agreed, "But I dunno if it's jus' the orcs ye kilt."
"You think the orcs worked for someone else?" Baelas asked, somewhat skeptically.
"It's not unlikely. Orcs are known for associating with evil greater and smarter than them if the promise riches and battles suffice their horrid ways," Sab'vrae snorted. At the others' curious looks, he added, "Hey, there were orcs in the Underdark, too. Many slaves captured from the surface, but I still knew enough about their background before I fled up here."
"Well, Olren," Baelas sighed, "Do you have any idea exactly who's behind it?"
"Not exactly who, no," the human admitted, "but I have been keepin' a close eye on the villages borderin' Lurkwood. As o' late, though, Hawksburgh's been actin' odd."
"How so?" the sun elf questioned. Olren rubbed his thick neck.
"Well…" he sighed, "it's been way too quiet, even for a modest hamlet. I haven't seen the childrun runnin' about outside fer a few days, nor any o' the adults farmin' or tradin' or nuffin'."
Sab'vrae pursed his dark lips, "Why haven't you investigated further on the matter?"
"Sometimes, when th' threat o' orcs or other big raidin' parties comes to these villages' attention, they flee to anutter town or th' nearest city," Olren explained. "But still, I was gonna check on 'em, but then my ring here started flashin'." He held up his right pinky finger to show a silver ring encrusted with a dark green gem. "It's enchanted ta lemme know when someone's breakin' into my place. I ran back here to fin th' place as ye see it now."
Baelas rubbed his chin, "This may indeed just be the villagers fleeing at the threat of an orc raid. They're quite common in these parts, despite our best efforts to prevent them…" the sun elf sighed, running a hand through his copper hair.
"Perhaps we should all investigate the matter in case it is something more." Sab'vrae suggested, "Since we don't know what we're getting into, it might be wise to bring a few from the grove with us."
"I'm likin' this drow more an' more by the minute!" Olren grinned, picking his crossbow up from the ground, "What say ye, Baelas?"
"I suppose the grove can spare two or three druids to help," the elf druid conceded, "and if it's nothing serious, then no harm done."
Sab'vrae rose from his seat, reflecting the human's mischievous smile, his hands on his simple swords, "Well… shall we go make a quick detour before we go creature hunting, then?"
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Nai'lan, after hearing of the trio's plight, readily agreed to offer the grove's support.
"Normally, I would help, but there's been some trouble with poachers by the River Surbin." The wood elf apologized, "However, I'm sure a few of the others will be willing to aid you."
"I haven't had any fun in weeks!" Rolain laughed, slinging an arm around Baelas' and Sab'vrae's shoulders, "And if trouble should present itself, I won't let you guys leave me out of it!" Elari rolled her eyes with the elven duo, but smiled.
"Then I'd better accompany you four ad well, least my bumbling human husband leads you all off a cliff." She teased, twirling a long quarterstaff in one arm.
"'Tis settled then!" Olren thrust his crossbow arm in the air, "Off to Hawksburgh!"
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By late afternoon, the party of five reached the small hamlet lying on the outskirts of Lurkwood. True to the ranger's word, not a soul lingered outdoors, nor did any of the houses show signs of life.
"Creepy." Elari summarized, her male partners nodding in agreement. Olren looked about the silent buildings, grunting.
"It'd be kin if we split up. I'll inspect the town center, while the rest of ye each inspect a different section of the village, all right?" he instructed, holding his crossbow close. The four grove inhabitants mumbled their agreement, each splitting off in a different direction.
Sab'vrae slowly crept into the eastern end of the town, his eyes more alert now that the sun began to settle behind him, beyond the distant mountains. The setting star shadowed the settlement, but the drow easily countered this by shifting into the heat spectrum whenever his couldn't penetrate the dark in light vision. Hand on his sword hilt, Sab'vrae slowly pushed on a door, finding it unlatched. Furrowing his eyebrows, the dark elf opened the entrance and stepped inside, tensing himself for any monsters that may leap out.
Nothing.
Perplexed, Sab'vrae walked about the small, modest home. Unlike Olren's cabin, there were no signs of a ransacking or struggle. Quite the contrary -- everything was in place, like the family residing simply up and left in the middle of their activities one night. The dark elf peeked under the table, beds, chairs, and everything else for any possible clues. No trace of anything, not even missing clothes or supplies to imply the family fled for another town. He sighed, rubbing his neck. Leaving the house, Sab'vrae turned down an alley to search any boxes or crates he could find.
Overturning a few boxes, the drow finally found something of interest. Behind the abandoned supplies of a general store, Sab'vrae picked up a small, seemingly out of place cloth. Turning the fabric over, he noticed an odd symbol embroidered on it: a flame with eyes burning above a dragon's claw. Unfamiliar with this crest, Sab'vrae pondered its meaning when his keen ears rang with the vibrations of a woman screeching in the distance.
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Baelas yanked at his hair in frustration. The southern sector was mostly comprised of minor shops, and even the skilled druid could not find any traces of an attack or a fleeing town. Everything was as it should be -- only without townspeople. This disturbed the sun elf greatly, wondering what forces could have caused an entire hamlet to leave everything instantly and abandon their home.
Ready to return to Olren with his negative results, the elven druid nearly jumped out of his boots when Elari's high pitched shriek filled the air. Pulling his longbow from his shoulders, Baelas cursed and loaded his weapon, dashing in the direction of the scream.
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Rolain growled, his short spear already in hand at the sound of his wife's distress. Long ago the human learned the young moon elf was quite a capable fighter, despite her frail appearance. Still, ever the protective husband, the human druid didn't wish to risk his lover's life on anything.
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Even Olren's slightly inferior human ears heard his friend's cry, and the ranger was the first to detect the elven female. He blinked in surprise at the sight before him. A young, bear-sized red dragon clawed at Elari, who parried the attacks with her wooden staff.
I haven't seen a dragon, even a dragonling, in these parts before. The ranger thought, perplexed. He shook himself out of his pondering, however, reminding himself that a small dragon was still a dragon. Loading his crossbow with a "click!" the ranger aimed the weapon and fired rapidly. The bolts deflected off the dragonling's scaly hide harmlessly, but did divert the overgrown lizard's attention for the moment. It hissed angrily, flapping towards the human.
"Oy! Who said you could attack the ranger, let alone my wife!" Rolain's angry voice shouted from the west, throwing his arm out. His fingers and mouth moved in the quick incantations of a spell, and, sure enough, a short storm of lightning bolts struck the red dragon with fury. The flying creature screeched in pain, turning instead to the human druid who dared injure it, if only mildly.
"Bad day to pick a fight, monster!" Baelas growled, arriving with his own incantation. The earth beneath the dragonling rumbled, and, a moment later, a large pillar of ice erupted, slamming into the monster and sending it cartwheeling through the air.
Bruised, but now more irritated than anything else, the young red dragon growled, diving at the band of forest guardians. The orange glow of dragon fire formed in its mouth. Olren and party scattered, to little effect. Even at an early age, dragon breath covered a large distance and girth. Rearing its head back to release its lethal fire, the red dragon closed in on the two elves.
A globe of utter darkness consumed the dragon's head, halting the creature in mid attack. Enraged and confused, the monster flew about, attempting to remove the blind covering, but to no avail.
Surprised, the band turned their heads in the direction of their drow ally. Sab'vrae waved at them frantically.
"All drow can do it, but since I've lived up here for a while, my globe of darkness won't last very long! Quickly, cast your spells and aim your weapons at its vital points!" the dark elf exclaimed.
Regaining their wits, the forest defenders obeyed. Olren and Baelas fired arrows and bolts in rapid succession, attempting to hit the dragon's hidden eyes. Rolain and Elari twisted their fingers and lips in divine incantations, hurling elemental spells at the beast. Distracted by the onslaught, the dragon failed to notice when Sab'vrae's globe of darkness vanished.
Seeing their chance, the sun elf and human ranger aimed their ranged weapons and fired, striking true. A bolt and an arrow embedded themselves deep within the dragon's eye, penetrating the brain. With a great screech echoing through the trees, the young dragon plummeted to the ground, shaking the earth upon impact. The giant lizard twitched for a few long moments, then finally fell utterly still.
Lurkwood's guardians stood in silence for a while, before Rolain broke it with a nervous chuckle, "Well, no one told me red dragons reside in hamlets."
"They don't." Baelas agreed, though a bit more seriously, "Something is terribly wrong here."
"Perhaps… this means something to any of you?" Sab'vrae offered, holding out the cloth for his comrades to examine. To his surprise, shocked and fearful expressions filled his friends' faces.
"What's the Cult of the Dragon doing around here?" Elari wondered, her slender eyebrows raised in shock.
"'The Cult of the Dragon'…?" Sab'vrae questioned, once again feeling silly at his lack of knowledge of the Night Above.
"They're an insane society of those dedicated to bringing about the 'inevitable' rule of Faerun by undead dragons." Baelas explained with a shiver. "The cult's followers worship evil dragons and help turn them into lichs. This is a hard task, indeed, but not impossible, considering most of the cult's followers are human mages specializing in necromancy."
"…You mean people actually create dracolichs?" the drow inquired incredulously, "And you surfacers find the Underdark full of madmen…"
"We've got to find out where and what the society's doing in Lurkwood." Elari pointed out grimly. "Certainly, no good can come of their involvement here."
"The Balance would suffer greatly, indeed," her husband agreed, "if it hasn't already, that is."
"What do you suppose the cult's done to the village?" Sab'vrae asked out loud. After a moment's thought, his sun elf friend answered first.
"Oftentimes, the cult gathers large populations of innocents for sacrifice -- either to increase their dragonlich's power, or to aid in the dark rituals required to turn such a creature into an undead." The druid explained.
"That makes some sense, but… there are no signs of struggle here. Everyone here simply… left." The drow emphasized his point with an "I have no idea" shrug of his shoulders.
"Many of the Cult of the Dragon's followers are wizards specializing in necromancy," Rolain said, "but their ranks still contain other sorts of spell casters, so…"
"…It's quite plausible that they used their magics to charm everyone in this village into following them to their lair." His wife finished his assumption.
"Well, then… how do we track them?" The drow quipped, racking his brain for any possible solutions.
"Hmm… I suggest ye all return ta yer grove, and I ta my cabin," Olren advised, "Night's fast approaching, and Lurkwood's nay very hospitable during the dark hour'n. "Perhaps your archdruid can use his talents or connections for answers this eve. If not, we can summon some of our own wizard allies with scrying abilities."
Baelas sighed, "I would wish to end this business as soon as possible, if only for the village's sake -- assuming they're still alive at this point -- but, you have a point, my friend. We'll have to continue this elsewhere."
The small party gathered their wits and returned into Lurkwood, each pondering the consequences of the conspiracy they had stumbled upon.