Chapter 18

Nai'lan reacted to the grim news with skillfully controlled alarm.

"That's not a good sign…" he muttered, his hazel eyes flashing in distress. He took a long, deep breath. "I shall attempt to contact The Leaf Father, Rillifane, tonight and see if he will aide us. If not, we can easily reach Lathhan in a short span of time. He should be able to discover something with the symbol Sab'vrae found. To my knowledge, he's not currently preoccupied with other affairs."

"Lathhan? Is he one of your wizard contacts?" Sab'vrae inquired, though he directed the query at Baelas, who nodded.

"He's a half-elf mage that resides in the Evermoors, near Nesmé, some hundred-and-thirty or so miles from here." The sun elf explained, "He's originally from around here, though, so he maintains a portal for quick transportation to important locations in Lurkwood, including our grove."

Sab'vrae nodded in understanding, "I see." To his left, Rolain let out a great yawn, stretching his brawny arms out wide.

"Well, it's getting late -- the moon's already directly overhead," the human druid noted to his companions, "from the sound of it, much of our work's yet to be done, so I for one wish to rest while I can." Elari rubbed her eyes in agreement to her husband's announcement.

"It is far into the night. I think I shall retire as well." The couple bid their friends good night and ventured into their shared hut together.

"You two should be resting yourselves as well," Nai'lan suggested to the remaining sun and dark elves. "You've both had a long day, and more than your share of scratches compared to the others." For the first time in hours, Sab'vrae recalled the bandages wounds on his torso and thigh. He chuckled lightly.

"You do have a point. Though I do love to celebrate The Dark Maiden's gifts to me by dancing in her beautiful moonlight, I must really give my aching body a break until morning. Good night, my friends." The drow gave a low bow of his head and retreated into his hut for the night.

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Despite his tiresome day, the drow found he couldn't sleep through the night. Arising at dawn, Sab'vrae pulled on his clothes and a set of leather armor. He strapped his simple weapons to his waist, pulled his cowl over his head, and exited his home. Much to his surprise, a quarter or so of the grove gathered around the center, greeting their drow companion.

"Come, sit with us," Nai'lan urged, patting to the space next to him on a log. Sab'vrae complied, leaning over to identify the druids present. All who participated in the short adventure the day before stood amongst the circle, as well as Cael'brar, Fiyn, Thoila, and a human ranger the drow did not recognize.

"This be Kolgar, my nephew an' fellow ranger," Olren explained, clapping his hand on the younger human who bore a striking resemblance to the middle aged ranger. From his head sprouted the same bright red hair, and his eyes held the same wisdom and good humor of his uncle's. Sab'vrae nodded in acknowledgement, and Kolgar returned the gesture. Nai'lan cleared his throat, returning to matter at hand.

"I managed to contact Lathhan last evening, so we should expect the mage here soon." he explained to all gathered. Apparently, Sab'vrae timed his entrance perfectly. "Once, and, if, we can detect the location of the Cult, all of us here will venture there, if possible, and try to solve this mystery. The Cult of the Dragon is very dangerous, so we're going to need all the aid possible without attracting too much attention. Daewyrr will command the grove in my absence." Daewyrr was a human woman only in her late twenties, but very wise for her age and a competent leader when need be. A perfect temporary replacement for Nai'lan.

"Now, we should decide what groups we'll need to split--" the wood elf archdruid literally jumped inches from his heat when a loud "POP!" exploded in the grove. The druids, rangers, and fighter turned their heads to the source of the sudden noise. Standing some yards from them was a very frazzled half-elf, probably of moon elf lineage.

His skin tone was similar to Thoila's, only a shade darker. A shock of true blue hair grew from his head, a rare color for a full blooded moon elf, let alone one half human. His intense gray eyes held speckles of gold, a mark of his mixed elven and human blood. His long, normally light red mage robes were scorched half black, as was his face.

Cursing, the half elf mage attempted to dust himself off, muttering lowly, "That's the last time I try to replace 'eye of rat' with 'eye of bat' as a spell component." Sab'vrae blinked at the odd wizard while the others assembled merely chuckled knowingly.

"It's good to see you again, Lathhan." Nai'lan greeted the smoking mage with a full grin. Lathhan straightened his tousled hair with his remaining dignity and sighed.

"You told me of an urgent matter regarding the Cult of the Dragon. I hardly consider that to be a laughing matter. Now, do you want my scrying abilities or not?" the mage huffed. Sab'vrae chuckled to himself. Apparently, even surface wizards held themselves with great pride.

"Oh, do lighten up, my young friend!" Nai'lan laughed, "Sab'vrae, do you still have that Clan crest with you? Could you hand it to Lathhan so he can use it for scrying?" The drow nodded, sitting up and reaching into the depths of his leather armor. Finding the cloth, the dark elf walk over to the shocked and jaw locked mage.

More amused than offended, Sab'vrae laughed, stuffing the Clan symbol in the half elf's hand. "Xun naut eszak. Usstan uil natha abbil." He said to the mage, putting on his thick drow accent as he spoke in his native tongue. Sab'vrae patted Lathhan's back and returned to his seat to the uproar of the gathered woodsmen.

"Don't worry, my boy," Nai'lan assured Lathhan between laughs, "Sab'vrae didn't curse you. He's a friend of ours. One of Eilistraee's." The half elf mage cleared his throat and recomposed himself, straightening his ruined robes.

"Yes, well," Lathhan muttered, his eyes flashing in brief annoyance, "nice to meet a drow who won't blow me up on sight."

"Charming, this one is." Sab'vrae grinned, sending Nai'lan into another bought of short laughter.

Lathhan rolled his eyes, "Mystra's Weave, why do I tolerate these woods folk?" and produced a small, misty bowl. The wizard set the object on a nearby tree stump and knelt before it, dipping the cloth inside and mumbling arcane verses lowly. A puff of purple smoke erupted from the bowl and vanished soon after. Lathhan scratched his hairless chin, nodding and humming to himself.

"It seems the Cult is indeed near Lurkwood, some miles from this… Hawksburgh you mentioned," the mage noted, closely inspecting his scrying bowl, "Yes, it's in The Crags, closest to the western edge of Lurkwood."

Nai'lan furrowed his dark eyebrows in thought, stroking his narrow chin, "But isn't that a bit far to take unwilling prisoners, if they did indeed capture the villagers?"

"You forget magic gates, my friend." Lathhan smirked, finally showing a flicker of humor in his eyes, "There's a strong concentration of magical energy not even a mile from Hawksburgh."

"Is it a restricted portal?" Olren questioned, to which Lathhan shrugged.

"Considering the Cult of the Dragon is a secret society, more than likely." He answered honestly.

"More importantly, can you access it for us?" Nai'lan pressed his spell casting friend. Lathhan's eyes twinkled in slight mischief.

"Well, why don't we find out for ourselves?" He reached into a sleeve and pulled out a yellow gem, which he tossed into the air. Upon impact with the earth and at Lathhan's command word, the gem glowed and morphed into a tall, wide portal sizable enough to fit an ogre easily. The half elf mage smirked at the surprised spectators, "Well, are we going or not?"

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A short while later, Lathhan closely inspected a stone wall, running his slender fingers along the grooves The half elf jabbered to himself, tapping here, knocking there. "They've hidden you quite well, haven't those bastards?" he asked to no one in particular, save perhaps the wall itself. Finally, his head found a well concealed slot. Slipping his fingers inside and chanting in an arcane tongue, Lathhan waved his free hand about in an attempt to open the portal.

Many moments later, a gateway materialized in the stone, revealing the path to a deep cavern. "Hope you brought torches." Lathhan joked. Nai'lan rolled his eyes.

"Everyone here but the humans can use infrared vision, and they've got sun sticks to last them at least a few hours." Sun sticks were small, enchanted artificial sticks that let off a low light when commanded. Each sun stick only lasted for a few hours before burning out permanently. "Think you can summon us back once we're through, Lathhan?"

"I can't promise anything," the young mage sighed, "especially if they're wards on the other side I don't know about. However…" He rummaged through the front of his still charred robes. Retrieving a scroll, he handed the paper to the archdruid. "He's a simple, yet effective, scroll of teleportation. Tell it where you wish to go, and it can send all of you back to the grove safely if you stand close together. Make sure there aren't any enemies close by, though. It can transport them as well."

"I'll keep that in mind, Lathhan," Nai'lan promised, "and thanks for your help."

"Just don't get yourself made into dragon stew and inform me when you've all returned." The hybrid wizard smiled. His archdruid friend laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Well, we should be off then. Ready everyone?" the head druid inquired his companions.

"Er… actually…" Sab'vrae half raised his arm to gain the wood elf's attention, "I have a minor request for Lathhan."

"Yes, what is it?" the half elf raised his blue eyebrows in curiosity.

"It's… these blades." The dark elf unsheathed his simple long swords, "from the looks of it, we may very well face some powerful enemies, and I--"

"--Don't think these will quite 'cut it,' so to speak?" Lathhan quipped, nodding in realization. "Yes, I can enchant your weapons, but, the effect will only last a day or two, at most. If you want something more permanent, you'll have to seek out a talented blacksmith who uses spell bindings in his creations."

"Thank you." Sab'vrae nodded in gratitude, handing the swords to the half elf. Lathhan chanted, running his pale fingers along the flats of the blades. A light blue flame engulfed both weapons. The mage handed the swords back to the drow, satisfied.

"There. I've enspelled them to cut through even the toughest armor, added mild ice damage, and moderate resistance against fire attacks. Figured it would help if you meet another dragon." Lathhan grinned. "Is that sufficient?"

"More than enough, I thank you again." Sab'vrae returned the smile and bowed his head.

"Come, my dark friend." Baelas urged, motioning to the drow, "we need to get moving."

"Coming." Sab'vrae sheathed his temporarily enchanted blades, bid Lathhan farewell, and quickly followed his woodland friends into the portal.

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A familiar, though unpleasant, sensation of staled air assaulted the dark elf's lungs upon arrival. He scowled.

"Perhaps not the Underdark," he noted to the druids and rangers, "but certainly deep enough to bring back unpleasant memories." Nai'lan nodded in silent agreement, his eyes already glowing a very faint red. The wood elf had switched to the heat spectrum. His fellows of elven blood followed suit, and the three humans present simply ignited their sun sticks.

"We'll venture as a group now," Nai'lan ordered, slowly stepping down the cavern tunnel, "But if we come to a break in the path, or somewhere our numbers will be noticed, we'll have to split up, probably in groups of two."

"What if we can't find our way back to the others?" Sab'vrae pointed out.

"You know that leaf ring I gave you as an ally of the druids?" the wood elf asked. The dark elf looked down at his finger, examining the simple green, leaf shaped ring around his fourth finger.

"Yes, what of it?"

"All of us grove inhabitants carry one," Nai'lan held up his finger, as did the other druids, "and they're enchanted to track down and 'call to' the other rings when needed."

"I see." Sab'vrae nodding at the useful piece of jewelry, "but what of Olren and Kolgar? They're rangers, not druids. I don't see rings on their hands, either."

"Our necklaces are enspelled in a similar way," the younger ranger explained, pulling out his symbol of Silvanus from under his shirt, "Your rings are also set to trace these, and vise versa, if the need arises."

"Let's hope it doesn't." Rolain sighed, his friends murmuring in agreement. The ten person party continued through the cave in silence, not wishing to attract any unwanted attention. Sab'vrae kept his ears and eyes alert, recalling all of his Underdark survival training. In Barra Velve, all fighters were taught the vital skills of detecting subtle cave echo patterns and slight shifts in heat. Mainly, the drow city valued such skills only for surface raid trips and patrol parties, but Sab'vrae learned that his unique lessons could serve better purposes.

Not surprisingly, the drow detected a shift in the echoes, obviously not a result of his traveling companions. "Hold on. Something's coming." He hissed to the other investigators.

"How can you tell?" Thoila questioned in a hoarse whisper, "Even I can't hear anything."

"Nor can I," Baelas agreed with his fellow faerie elf, "but, Thoila, do consider that our renegade friend here grew up in a world of twisting caverns and underground passages."

"Point taken," the druid/cleric conceded, turning back to Sab'vrae, "what's coming this way?"

"A group of bipedal humanoids, close to our number in size," the drow discerned, straining his exaggerated ears. "They're attempting to use stealth, but I can hear them quite easily, and so shall the rest of you soon, I suspect." The warrior put an ear to the ground and felt the stone floor with his black hands, "Probably humans by the weight and consistency of their footfalls."

Olren nodded in approval. "Ye'd make an excellent ranger, my dark elf friend. Your tracking skills are impressive."

"None the better than any fellow student from The Fighter's Academy," the drow humbly, but truthfully, argued. "Regardless, we should make ourselves as invisible as possible. They'll be here very soon at this pace."

Heeding the dark elf's warning, the druids shapeshifted into bats, fluttering up into the ceiling, clinging to whatever hold they managed to find. Olren and his nephew cast Camouflage spells, blending in with the stone walls quite effectively. Sab'vrae, assured of his companions' safety, levitated himself to the ceiling, clinging to the wall.

Too bad I didn't know beforehand we'd be in caves. Otherwise, I'd have brought my piwafwi. He thought ruefully, securing his left foot in a small wall indention. I have no idea how long the levitation spell will last. Drow who spent their time on the surface and in the sunlight gradually lost their innate magical abilities, as the source of the magic came from the Underdark. Already, Sab'vrae's globe of darkness lasted half as long as it once did, and his faerie fire -- harmless magical flames meant to outline a concealed enemy or bring light into the area -- glowed dimly each time he cast it.

Sab'vrae removed himself from his thoughts quickly, his sensitive eyes painfully detecting torch light around the next corner. Shifting back into the light spectrum, the drow squinted at the approaching party. True to his predictions, the approaching group were human, all males save for two women. They wore long, blood red concealing robes with the cowls covering their faces. The leader, brandishing a torch, led the band through the tunnel, grumbling at his inferiors as they went.

"Bloody idiot Margon, loosing his damn insignia again! Leaving our sacred symbol out for any infidel to find!" he fumed.

"But Lanon," one of the woman dared to speak, "We charmed each an everyone of those villagers into following us here. Who's there to notice?" The large, torch wielding man turned, eyes flashing angrily.

"Fool!" he snarled, "Do you know nothing! A forest of Lurkwood's size always has at least a grove or two of tree hugging druids and their thrice damned ranger friends! Why do you think we hired that smelly orc Tagdush to ransack the ranger's home and kill him at first chance? We don't need our base discovered by those nature loving pansies!"

Olren wisely withheld a snarl.

"Speaking of Tagdush," another, shorter man broke in, stepping between his temperamental leader and the woman, "We haven't heard from the orc in days. Is that why we're heading out?"

"Aye." The one called Lanon growled, "I'm sure the damned overgrown grunt's gone and gotten his ugly head cleaved off already."

Actually, his head's still quite attached. It's his neck that could use some repairing. Sab'vrae thought with a grim mental chuckle. His heart skipped when his levitation spell suddenly gave way. Dammit! Not now! He mentally cursed, clawing at the rocks above him. His right leg swung in the air, his left attempting to maintain the weak foothold it had.

Noticing the suddenly rain of small pebbles, the cult looked up in confusion. Though far up enough to remain in the shadows, Sab'vrae knew his cover was blown. Realizing this, Olren and Kolgar leapt from their positions against the wall, cutting their way into the confused cult members.

"Intruders! Intruders!" Lanon screeched, "Kill them!"

Taking advantage of this diversion, and accepting the fact he'd eventually fall anyway, Sab'vrae leapt from his perch, unsheathing his twin blades. He landed on a startled man's shoulders, sending the unfortunate human stumbling over, unable to support the weight. Cartwheeling off the human before he hit the ground, Sab'vrae face the other remaining mages with his ranger friends.

"Chryammauth's talons!" one alarmed necromancer cursed, "We're being attacked by drow!"

"Then attack it back, you fool!" Lanon snarled, pulling out a mace and charging towards Sab'vrae. A swarm of bats swooped down, fluttering about in his face. The head cult member cursed, swatting at the transfigured druids. "Dammit!"

Sab'vrae blocked a slash from a nasty looking dagger, countering the blow with a quick, clean slice to the chest. His assaulter fell back, ice emitting from the painful fatal wound. Olren and Kolgar carved their way through the other cult members, assisting their dark elven ally in melee combat. Mentally, Sab'vrae congratulated their excellent fighting form. All his life he was taught of the "inferior" abilities of the "lesser" races, including humans. The two rangers, and, unfortunately, some of the cultists, proved quite the contrary.

Ducking a small fireball spell too close for comfort, the drow pushed himself against, then off the stone wall to fling himself at the surprised spell caster. He impaled the necromancer through the ribs, puncturing the stomach. He withdrew his weapons, icy mists billowing from the acid-spilling wound. The human cried out in agony, and, Sab'vrae, in an act of mercy uncharacteristic of his dark elf upbringing, ended the human's life quickly with another stroke of his sword.

For the best, indeed. The drow felt, rather than heard, Nai'lan's voice in his head. He quickly glanced in the general direction of the false bat. He would've lived for many more hours in agony otherwise.

"True enough." Sab'vrae simply retorted with a shrug, "That's why I did it."

Just make sure you spare the leader, this… Lanon? We might be able to extract more information from him, whether by his choice or Thoila's talent of… persuasion. The archdruid referred to the moon elf's clerical abilities of the mind.

The drow nodded, returning into the fray, parrying and countering all attacks. Olren and his nephew skillfully felled four mages swiftly. The remaining three necromancers wove their fingers in the makings of a spell. Quickly, Sab'vrae thrust his arm out, casting a globe of darkness over the evil mages. Ceasing their spell binding, the necromancers cried out in surprise. Olren and Kolgar dove in, their blades cutting through the impenetrable darkness.

"Mind the leader! He's mine!" Sab'vrae called to the rangers, swords at the ready. Hearing this, Lanon backed out from the globe, leaving his comrades to die. Anticipating this move, Sab'vrae dove down, feet first, sliding across the stone ground and slamming into the human mage's ankles. Lanon, balance lost, toppled over, the drow upon him before he could cast any defensive spells.

Sab'vrae slammed the hilt of his sword into the human's face, spattering his nose. Pain shot through the cultist's skull before his world fell into the shadowy veil of unconsciousness.

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Feeling as though dwarven smiths pounded against his brain with mythril hammers, the cult group leader awoke sometime later with a loud groan. His vision slowly coming back into focus, Lanon moved his hand to hold his head, only to find it tightly bound behind his back. Blinking rapidly to remove the grogginess from his eyes, the necromancer took in his surroundings. A crowd of ten encircled the tied mage, most of them elven -- including that damnable drow -- two merely half elven, and three fellow humans. The bald, tattooed cultist scowled at his captors.

"Chryammauth devour you all, especially you black fey demon!" he spat. The insult rolled off Sab'vrae as a pebble does down a ravine.

"Well, at least we know the dragon's name." The dark elf commented dryly.

"Yes, but a more important question: is this Chryammauth a dracolich yet?" Nai'lan questioned the human prisoner bluntly.

"Chryammauth will devour you all in his undead glory." Lanon sneered.

"He's lying." Thoila stated. A dark flicker in the necromancer's eyes supported her claim.

"So, that's probably partly why Hawksburgh is empty," Kolgar surmised, "they need the villagers as part of the sacrifices in the ritual to transform this evil wyrm."

Lanon merely snorted through his broken nose in response, neither confirming or denying the hypothesis. Still, the young ranger's conclusion made plenty of sense, and his comrades nodded in agreement.

"Where are the villagers now? They must be alive before you sacrifice them." Rolain demanded gruffly. Lanon spat in the elder man's eye in replication. The druid wiped the slime from his face, glaring dangerously at the mage. Before he could react verbally or physically, Sab'vrae walked between the two human men, pushing Rolain aside. His eyes flashed red, glowing in heat. The drow could see well enough in the low light, but he found his glowing crimson eyes had an effective intimidation factor. He clamped his dark fingers around the man's jaw, squeezing the cheeks in harshly.

"I shattered your nose quite easily," the dark elf snarled dangerously, malice gleaming in his blue-red eyes, "would you like to see what else I can do? Would gladly do? Death can be dealt so slowly and painfully, you know. After all, we drow are masters at torturing others. How does pumping magical acid into your stomach sound? I can heal you, repeat the process over and over, for years." He grinned in sadistic mirth. Lanon's arrogant, silent façade bubbled away, his gray eyes bulging from his head.

"D-down the cavern, on the third path to the left," he babbled, trying to avoid eye contact with Sab'vrae and failing, "T-there's a m-magically warded door at the end. Can't get in if you're not a cult member."

Sab'vrae ran his blade lightly against the cultist's neck, hard enough to apply an uncomfortable pressure, yet not hard enough to penetrate the skin. "Perhaps it just needs a little of cult blood to convince it. I am a master of slowly drawing blood from the veins, you know. It'll take days before death finally embraces you." The dark elf pushed the man's chin back with the tip of his sword, a small trickle of blood running down the human's neck.

"A crest!" Lanon yelped, eyeing the weapon with fearful eyes, "You can pass the door with a Cult crest! My necklace serves as my passage, take it!" Sab'vrae leaned in close to the human, eye to eye and an inch apart from each other.

"Many thanks." The drow hissed, ripping the jewelry from the cultist's neck. He smirked, slamming his two blade hilts into Lanon's temples simultaneously. The human necromancer slumped, unconscious once more. Sab'vrae tossed the magical key to a startled Nai'lan.

"You wouldn't have tormented that man." The wood elf archdruid half stated, half asked. Sab'vrae twirled his blades and sheathed them with a shrug.

"I know that," he replied, and added with a mischievous smirk, "he didn't."