Chapter 20

Chryammauth stirred from his slumber, feeling a slight poking on his thick, red hide. Opening a large eye, the dragon resisted the strong urge to devour the incompetent who dared to wake him, "What do you want?"

Instinctively, the human necromancer backed away from the large yellow eye examining him. "My master, Great Chryammauth. We've nearly completed our preparations to immortalize you."

His interest piqued tenfold, the great crimson wyrm lifted his giant head. "Excellent. The high priests are prepared?"

"Most of them," the messenger noted, "Lanon and his group were sent to summon Ailard, but they have yet to return. Our alarm systems remain intact, so it's quite possible they simply lost their way in the many tunnels and passages."

Chryammauth snorted, "Either that or we've got some stealthy intruders. No matter, in either case. I only need all the priest for the second phase. What of the first phase's arrangement?" The dragon's human servant grinned wickedly.

"We picked a boy from the cluster of Hawksburgh's villagers. No more than three or four winters old, I'd wager. Perfectly innocent and ignorant of his world. He's quite terrified in his solitary cell at the moment."

"A perfect candidate. Well done, Halarth." Chryammauth slowly rose, rumbling the earth below him as the dragon reached his full seventy foot height. The red wyrm stretched and yawned, his deep roar rebounding off the cavern walls. Loose pebbles crumbled from their perches and tumbled down the walls. "Fetch the human child and ready everything. I'm getting hungry anyway."

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The grove trio skulked silently through the passageway, avoiding traps and magical wards whenever possible. The tunnel twisted and turned every few feet, almost to a dizzying effect.

Good way to thwart invaders. Sab'vrae noted, listening for any odd echo patterns. The task proved difficult, as his hearing picked up the twins' noise above all else. By surface standards, Cael'brar and Fiyn moved as the shadows, but to the drow's well trained ears, they might as well traveled with bells attached to their boots. He sighed in slight irritation. How far does this path lead?

Suddenly, the three trespassers felt the ground rumble and heard the distant yawn of a great dragon.

"…Okay, so we know the dragon's close. Perhaps we should go back and let the Harpers or some other organization finish this." Cael'brar suggested, only partially from fear.

"We'd probably waste our lives trying to fight such a beast on our own." Fiyn agreed, seeing his logic, "We don't need to cause our family such unnecessary pain. The group probably needs us more."

"You have a point." Sab'vrae sighed, conceding. "Let's head back. We're wasting too much time, and we're not finding anything." The trio turned around and began to venture back. A distant, but distinct echo hit the dark elf's ears. The cry of a young child. He sighed again, turning his head in the sound of the direction.

"Sab'vrae?" The half elven druids halted their gait, looking at their unusual companion.

"Continue on to your parents and the others, you two." Sab'vrae urged them, "I think I heard the missing boy. I won't need your help for that, and, as you said, the others need you more. Go on, just tell them I'll be along soon."

Reluctantly, the younger adventurers agreed. "Watch your steps."

"As should you. Safe journey back." Sab'vrae warned the pair before heading back down the winding tunnel. Surprisingly, after only a few yards around corners, the drow reached the end of the path. He found not a door, but a portal. Cautiously, he examined the magic gate, noting the lone cell on the other end. The child's cries entered his ears again, and, deciding to take the risk, Sab'vrae leapt into the portal.

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Morand backed away from the necromancer, screaming in terror. Enchanted into entering the Dragon Cult base a few days ago -- along with the rest of Hawksburgh -- the four-year-old boy found himself torn from his parents and placed in the dank, lonely prison. Cold and alone for at least a day, the lad thought he'd welcome any sort of company, but quickly changed heart at the sight of the tattooed and snarling man before him.

"Shut up, kid!" the cult mage growled, hefting the boy into the air by the scruff of his coarse tunic. "We need you for an important ceremony. Quit your squealing!"

Paying the villain no heed, Morand kicked and screamed, struggling with his captor.

"Little brat!" the man scowled, raising a club to beat the child. Something halted his swing, however. Twisting his head around in confusion, the cultist noticed a black hand grasping his bludgeon before a second hand slammed into his face, sending the necromancer spiraling into darkness. The mage slumped to the ground, Morand landing next to his unconscious form.

Perplexed, the child raised his head at his rescuer. At the sight of a caped drow, he let out one more scream of fear, scrambling back.

"Evil elf! Droh!" he whimpered. Obviously, the young human already heard horror stories of the subterranean elves. Kneeling before the terrorized child, Sab'vrae smiled gently.

"No, I'm a 'good elf,' lad," the dark elf assured softly, "And it's pronounced, 'drow.'" He added, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

"But black elves evil." The boy protest, though his body began to relax.

"Many are, yes," Sab'vrae admitted, "but I'm a special 'black elf.' Only here to help you and your village. Do you want to see your mother again?"

Morand nodded vigorously.

"I can take you to her, safe and sound. You just have to trust me." The fighter elf promised. Still slightly skeptical, the boy eyed his odd liberator cautiously. Finally, he relented, stumbling over to the drow. Taking the hint, Sab'vrae picked up the child in his arms, finding the young human quite light.

He turned back to the portal where he'd entered and cursed in Drow. Nothing remained but a stone wall. A one-way portal, probably meant to imprison fools like himself. Fortunately, the only exit, the cell door, remained opened from the necromancer's entrance. Sab'vrae placed the boy on the ground again, gesturing for Morand to wait a moment.

Dragging the stunned mage over to the back wall, Sab'vrae shackled the necromancer firmly in place. As a forethought, the drow tore a long strip from the wizard's robes, stuffing it in a firm ball inside the human's mouth as a makeshift gag. A temporary hold, but long enough to at least give him a head start. The dark elf turned back to the boy, hefting the child into his arms.

"Hush, we don't want to attract guards." Sab'vrae warned in a whisper. Morand nodded in understanding, clinging to the drow's shirt. Holding the boy in one arm, the dark elf used his free hand to unsheathe his weapon, holding the sword tightly in his grasp.

A few guards and mages detected the intruder's presence, but Sab'vrae swiftly cut them down before they could shout or otherwise activate a wide-scale alarm. A faint, but noticeable shift in the air quality and temperature caught the drow's attention. He pressed on, human in arm, knowing the surface was only a few hundred yards above, at most.

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Chryammauth paced impatiently in his lair. What was it with the stupid humans and delays? His stomach rumbled for meat, and his mind for the approachable goal of lichdom.

"I want that child! Where is it?" the red dragon snarled. His golden eyes caught a flicker of movement in the corner. Spotting the drow and his human passenger, the wyrm roared in fury, flames forming in his snout.

Sab'vrae cursed again, well aware of the red dragon and its anger. Still, he continued to run through in front of the wyrm, spotting the exit on the opposite side. His booted feet flew over the rocky terrain, closing in on his freedom.

Glancing back, the drow's light eyes widened in fear, as did Morgan's. A huge ball of flame rushed towards them, too quickly for escape. Knowing no other defense, Sab'vrae sheathed his blade and yanked his cowl over his head, falling to his knees. He pulled the child down and engulfed the human in a protective hug. The drow threw his cape around his body and the child, completely concealing Morand. His fingers gripped his sword's hilt just before the dragon flames swept over them.

Chryammauth sneered in triumph, then choked the chortled back down his scaly throat. Singed and smoking, but otherwise unharmed, the drow carried the boy out the exit and up the inclining path. The crimson dragon thundered across his lair in two quick strides, growling in frustration when he realized the passage was far too small to accommodate him. He stuck his great head inside, the only part he could fit, and inhaled deeply.

Detecting the suddenly rise in temperature once more, Sab'vrae dashed towards the light ahead, his legs screaming in white hot pain. The drow ran out the exit and rolled to the right, a huge spat of fire erupting from the exit after him. The drow panted, slightly burnt and exhausted. Silently, he thanked Lathhan for his fire resistance enchantment. He looked down at his cohort.

"You okay, little one?" he asked softly. Morand scowled briefly in protest to the "little" claim, but nodded, showing the drow his dirty, but unharmed arms.

"Where's Mommy?" the child inquired. Sab'vrae hummed to himself in thought, searching the ridge below him. To his relief, he spotted Nai'lan and the grove with the villagers some hundred yards below in the meadows.

"Come, they're down there. I can reach them quickly." Holding the boy close in his left arm, Sab'vrae levitated down the slope, keeping his right hand close to the rocks in case his spell wore off too soon.

The levitation enchantment did end after a brief period, but only when the drow's feet were mere inches from the grass. Eyes widening with glee, Morand leapt from Sab'vrae's arms, dashing towards the crowd.

"Mommy! Mommy!" he cried over the noise.

"Morand!" The young woman pushed through the crowd and sprinted to her son, scooping the lad into her eager arms. She hugged her offspring close, crying from a storm of emotions, mainly joy and relief. "Thank the gods you're safe!"

"The good black elf save me, mommy!" Morand exclaimed happily, pointing to the calmly approaching Sab'vrae. His mother waited until the drow paused a yard or two away from them.

"I… I'm sorry for my cruel words earlier." She apologized, her cheeks reddening in abashment. "I shouldn't let stereotypes and my ignorance judge you unfairly. Sab'vrae smiled sincerely at the human.

"It is a fact of life I will have to accept, now that I live above. Your fears are well founded, unfortunately. However, there are few others like me, and we're used to being renegades."

"If I ever meet a drow again, I pray they're like you, good elf." The mother nuzzled her child's cheek, eternally grateful to this outcast dark elf.

Sab'vrae merely chuckled in response.

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Lathhan answered Nai'lan's summons quickly, and before sunset, Hawksburgh's population returned, and the others to the forest. The mage promised to send word to the Harpers upon returning home. He knew agents close by who could finish off the Cult's base before they had a chance to retaliate.

"Excellent service to Nature and her children today, my ebony friend." The wood elf archdruid congratulated Sab'vrae that evening. The drow looked up at the waning moon, nodding with a small smile.

"Nai'lan, I think I've reached a conclusion long in the pondering." Sab'vrae told the tan elf.

"Oh?" Nai'lan simply quipped.

"I've decided I'd like to become a druid. Would you accept me as a student in Nature?"

The wood elf's grin nearly spread to his ears, "I would be honored to educate you in the Balance and our ancient ways. But, I must know… what made you finally decide on the matter?"

"Though our little adventure in the caves today sated my appetite for some action, it reminded me how dear this land's already become to me. I want to be able to defend this land against any harm that might come to it, and to understand this world better. After all, it's my home now." Sab'vrae grinned at Nai'lan, who returned it in kind.

"A most admirable notion, my friend." He clapped a hand on the drow's shoulder. "I'll begin your lessons tomorrow, at dawn."

"Well, there is one more thing I'd like to say, Nai'lan…" the dark elf male trailed.

"Yes…?" the archdruid motioned for his companion to continue. Sab'vrae pulled his swords partially out from their sheaths, calling attention to the weapons.

"I honestly wish to learn your ways, but… I also refuse to denounce my fighter roots. I have no qualms against wearing nonmetal and heavy armor -- indeed, my skill thrives on finesse -- but I will always fight by blades as first choice." Sab'vrae stated grimly. Nai'lan rubbed his hairless chin, nodding slowly.

"Are you willing to accept the restrictions such a choice ensues?" he asked. "You won't be able to cast as many spells, or as often as other druids."

"These, I can accept." Sab'vrae promised.

"Then, sleep with ease, brother druid." Nai'lan smiled. Sab'vrae chuckled.

"I could get used to that title."