(A/N: Finally, the new chapter is finished! This will be a short author's note - it's 4:50 in the morning as I type this. This story is one of my top priorities, and that's why it takes so long to write; I want to get it right. In other news, you'll notice I gave the Robe of Vecna some custom properties. Hey, my fanfic, I can warp what I want.
Disclaimer: And thus the author did bellow, "NEVERWINTER NIGHTS ISN'T MINE!")
Chapter Fifteen
The Robe was crushing her.
Not in the physical sense - one such as Umbra could not be crushed physically. Truly, the Robe of Vecna had no ill effects on her... but sometimes, the need to hide herself away was crushing to her spirit (something that had never happened until she met Deekin). And what had just happened made the feeling more crushing than ever.
How simply the kobold had stood there, scales bright green even in this dark. His warm brown eyes looked at her as seriously as they ever had when he spoke. "Deekin loves you, Boss."
Love? The shadow lich had told her of love between friends.
"This one loves you as well, Deekin. You are a fine friend." It was the truth. He was a fine friend... no, more than that. A wonderful friend. The only one who had ever held out hope for Umbra, that had stayed by her faithfully no matter what, that had never eyed her with the mistrust she deserved. The only one that had ever called her friend. She loved him... oh, how she did.
"Umm... that not what Deekin means, Boss."
"What is your meaning, then?" Deekin suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and Umbra suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
"Deekin... loves you," he explained. "Like when bard... falls in love with great hero... and they lives happily ever after..."
"You... love this one?"
"Yep."
"As when a husband... and a wife..."
"That kind... yep."
The shadow lich had told her of this sort of love. He had told her it was eternal and binding; the shadow lich liked to exaggerate, but Umbra did not know that.
"You would... you would devote such an immortal love... to the likes of this one, Deekin?"
"Deekin would, Boss."
"You... are certain?"
"In all his life, Deekin never be surer."
Lovers were destined to be together forever, the shadow lich had said. True lovers would have no secrets.
No secrets.
"Boss?"
Umbra watched Deekin's kind face, looking hopeful as he waited for an answer. She loved him; as life loved light, as death coveted shadow. She wished she could tell him, she could not.
"No." Umbra stepped back. "That cannot be. No... no, Deekin. You would not... you would not be happy. Not happy at all."
"What... what you saying, Boss?" She could feel his heart break. She felt no better, herself.
"Forget this one. This one should never have left the Shadows. When this adventure is done... forget this one. Find another like yourself. Please." She did it to be kind... he could not see that, but she did. She left, unable to bear any more, but it was no use; the sadness followed her.
"This one is sorry, Deekin," she apologized quietly, though he could not hear. "This one loves you, but she cannot tell you. This one must hide." One such as her must be hidden away at all costs. Sometimes she resented the Robe's presence, stifling her... but, no. It was good the Robe was there. It would hurt him to see her...
She would do this last thing. She would help the rebels against the Valsharess, help save the world as she had done once before, and then she would leave Deekin, knowing he was safe. He would miss her, but he would move on... and he would be happy. There was no greater gift she could give him than that.
Umbra did not return to train with Imloth. She vanished from sight for the next five hours, returning only just as the rebels were getting themselves ready.
Catapults and ballistas were lugged into position. The rebels took their places; archers atop the gates' fortress walls, crossbows loaded and ready to fire; melee fighters lined up strategically, weapons clenched in their fists. This was more a rehearsal than anything, as there was still much to be done. The Seer (who was still in the Temple at the city's center, away from the battle, guarded by a dozen soldiers) had foreseen that the Valsharess would attack from the gates, but they would have arranged so, even if she had not - there was simply no place else to attack from. But for the gates, Lith My'athar was closed in by thousand-foot high, nigh-insurmountable cliffs. The gates were protected by every reinforcement available, spell, barricade or otherwise; but that would not keep the Valsharess out, and not a one of them was foolish enough to hope otherwise.
Suddenly, something banged against the gates. Something strong... even with all its fortifications, the sturdy black gates shook on their hinges with each bang. The rebels tensed twofold. An ominous silence hung over Lith My'athar, broken only by the banging. Quietly, the rebels began muttering amongst themselves.
"Here already?"
"The Seer said we had another half-hour...
"What'll we do?"
"Fight, that's what!"
A voice from outside the gate broke in, "You're not dead in there already, are you? Bloody inconsiderate of you if you are, seeing as how we came all this way to help." The voice was sarcastic, metallic, and somewhat familiar.
"Enserric..." Umbra realized, then commanded the troops. "He is a friend. Let him through." A moment's hesitation, but a nod from Imloth and several drow set about disarming, disenchanting, unbolting and unlocking the gates. No sooner had the gates been wedged open, than an unnecessarily bulky, extravagant golem barged through.
"Ah, so you're not dead," the golem said in a voice that could only be Enserric's. The Maker had made good on his promise to make the sword a metal body. "Good, good. We'll have reason to stay and brain some dark elves, then." Promptly, another golem appeared from beyond the gates. Then another, and another, and another, and another... Finally, no less than 70 golems entered Lith My'athar.
Imloth looked at them with concern. "What are - "
"Who are!" Enserric corrected.
"Right. Who, are they, Umbra?" Imloth asked.
"Our allies," Umbra replied. "Unless one is trying to sneak past a drow camp."
"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Enserric said dryly. He shrugged his enormous metal shoulders with a scraping sound that sent Valen's teeth grating. "Regardless, the Maker sent us to help out and make sure you lot aren't squashed into piles of pulpy pink matter. Now that I'm no longer confined to that blasted blade, I think you'll find I'm more than worth my weight in the valuable metals I'm constructed of." He was irredeemably proud of this, flexing his metal joints confidently. "As are my troops, of course." Said "troops" stood stiffly in place, but certainly looked formidable. The drow had finished resealing the gates, albeit hurriedly and somewhat poorly. Imloth noted this with displeasure, and eyed Enserric much the same way.
"I'd hope so," Imloth answered.
"Oh, you'll see," Enserric said smugly.
There were more preparations to deal with, especially with these newcomers needing battle positions to accustom them. Despite the flurry of motion around her, Umbra was still. Her gaze was on Deekin, who had been tripped over by no less than three busy drow since Enserric's arrival. He stepped out of the way when he could, but his movements were half-hearted, eyes downturned. He was heartbroken, and the more Umbra watched the more she felt the same. It wasn't long before she was urged to help out with last-minute preparations, but she lingered and watched Deekin sadly before obliging.
Deekin watched Umbra go, heaved a sigh and forced himself to look away. He brought the notebook out of his pack, opened it and read over the last sentence he'd written.
"The intrepid heroes and one mean goat man wandered into the great (here a few failed attempts to spell "illithid" had been crossed out) mind flayer palace, when one of the tentacle faces came running up to them. What news did it bring? the kobold sidekick wondered as it started talking."
He had a lot of ground to cover, but this wasn't the time or place to worry about writing, with the Valsharess liable to attack very soon. And, even if it had been, he couldn't bring himself to write now. It was the Boss's epic tale, and he couldn't look at it without feeling the rejection harshly. Granted, he felt it harshly anyway. Deekin closed the book back up and returned it to his pack. He found his eyes drawn up to the Underdark ceiling, as he remembered back.
"You looks at the stars, Boss?"
"No." Umbra's tone was still blank, but strangely faded. "This one gazes at their shadows."
"Their shadows?" Deekin repeated quizzically, scrutinizing the sky. "Deekin not sees any star shadows."
"They are not meant to be seen," she returned. "The shadows are concealed...but they are there."
No stars here; only stalactites. Deekin sighed again and looked at the ground, doing his best to ignore being tripped over for the fourth time.
Time flies when you're racing to get everything ready so you don't die. The gates - no, the entire fortress - rattled suddenly, sending many tumbling.
"I... don't suppose those are friends of yours?" one drow asked Enserric hopefully.
"None the Maker told me about," Enserric replied. "And he would have told me."
"I was afraid of that." It was a good thing most of the rebels had been smart enough to flee the fortress by then, because at that moment it exploded, the only fortunate aspect of this being that the resulting debris was so small it caused no lethal accidents. But that was not a problem for the Valsharess's army, standing on the fortress's ruins with their weapons spread out and their eyes gleaming. It only meant all the more for them to kill.
Hundreds of dark elves and gray dwarves charged... right into a battalion of sturdy metal golems, who were more than happy to smash their fleshy bodies into pulp at Enserric's invigorated commands.
"YES! MASH THEM TOGETHER, HAH! Go for the legs... watch him CRAWL! Step on that one! And that one! Yes, that drow with a missing ear, yank off the one she'd got left, and most of her face - like that, good! Hang the dwarves by their BEARDS!" Enserric bellowed, himself never hesitating to slay and mutilate where he could. No longer bound to a gladiate form, Enserric hadn't enjoyed himself this much in decades. His bloodthirsty orders earned some nervous looks from some of the more do-gooding rebels, but the golems were more than proving their worth in this battle, and that was all that matter. Some drow and duergar managed to wind their ways around the golems and engage the actual rebels in fights, but with the golems acting as shields, the rebels were more than ready for these attacks and quickly dispatched the enemies that made it through.
This went on for about ten minutes before the Valsharess's army began to grow concerned. Likely, they'd been concerned before that, but it took the spellcasters a while to summon a rebuttal. Or rather, two rebuttals.
Glowing red lines spread across the ground. Those that noticed the marks feared the worst and jumped out of the way, carefully watching the lines grow out, branching off like veins and twirling in intricate patterns. The lines formed two large, separate circular patterns. The rock ground beneath the circles cracked, and out of the earth burst two of the foulest fiends any mortal would ever set eyes upon: a pit fiend and a balor. Red hides sizzling and cracking with inner heat, each immense planar grabbed two golems at a time and began flinging them through the air like toys.
"Oh, bloody HELL!" Enserric cursed as his troops were scattered in a most indignant fashion. The pit fiend halted mid-swing, an automaton still struggling in its grasp. Snorting smoke, the devil let the golem drop and turned to face the balor, emitting an otherwordly growl. The balor retorted with a strange gesture that was most likely offensive, as the pit fiend screeched furiously and leapt at the balor's throat, slamming it into the ground and squashing several drow in the process, rebels and Valsharess's troops alike. The Valsharess's spellcasters had made the mistake of summoning a demon and a devil at the same time, and the fiends were simply unable to overcome their intense hatred for each other long enough to decimate the rebels. The balor and the pit fiend howled insults and tore at each other's innards in spurts of crimson blood, while the golems righted themselves and resumed defending the rebels. Valen fought the urge to attack the pit fiend, knowing full well that doing so would give the balor an edge, and instead bashed in a duergar's head.
The balor came out victorious without Valen's help, but its victory was short-lived - it suffered grievous wounds from its spat with the pit fiend, and five golems quickly closed in and finished it off (much to Enserric's loudly voiced delight). However, the fiends had served their purpose in disabling the golems long enough for the Valsharess's melee fighters to close in and fight the rebels head-to-head. There were many more of the Valsharess's soldiers than there were of the rebels, but in their defense, much of the Valsharess's army had been worn down by the golems whereas the rebels were in prime condition for their attack. With the fortress gone they had lost much of their advantage, but the rebel archers scaled cliff walls and tall stalagmites, and found suitable vantage points to rain their bolts and arrows from. Standing behind the rebel troops, closer to Lith My'athar, the rebel spellcasters wove all sorts of destructive magics. Deekin felt a little out of place, still struggling not to trip anyone taller than himself, but concentrated on casting spells nonetheless. It helped take his mind off Umbra, anyway... though he supposed getting out of this alive should be his top priority at the moment.
It was Umbra's - if any spells or weapons got too close to the kobold, the cowled one was quick to deflect them with spells of her own, though Deekin failed to notice. Umbra was a fantastic killing machine, taking down tens of drow at a time with her devastating fire spells and lopping off vital parts with her swords (Imloth had lent her a second sword for the battle). More than a few soldiers had stuck a sword through Umbra with no effect, only to get stuck through with one of her swords in return. The rebels were appreciative; the Seer had been right about this one.
The battle raged on for what seemed forever. It was the sort of battle Deekin would have read with wide eyes during his days in the Silver Marches and dreamed of participating in, though now that he actually was participating in one he was much less enthusiastic. This was partly because of thoughts of Umbra (not so much of last night's rejection now, but of frantic hopes that the Boss was alright), and partly because such battles were great to read about but grueling and miserable to be a part of. Plus, with gore splashing all around him (making him all the more concerned for Umbra's safety), Deekin couldn't possibly keep track of things to write about later.
A bird's-eye view would have shown a constantly writhing mass of humanoids chopping each other to pieces, the rebels dressed in bright purple-and-blue and the Valsharess's forces in red-and-black. It would also have shown that the Valsharess's forces were not fighting in random formation; unbeknownst to them, the rebels were being gradually pressed into a circular group. Suddenly, the Valsharess's troops began to retreat.
"Ha-HA! Bloody cowards! We showed them!" Enserric cheered, raising an arm in triumph. The other golems raised their arms in turn, automatically rather than victoriously. Imloth wasn't so pleased.
"Something's wrong," he murmured. "They're still doing well enough to keep fighting, and they haven't even brought in the beholders, the mind flayers, the undead or any of their other allies yet! Why are they retreating?" His question was soon answered by a scream.
Without warning, the rock ground had sprung upward in a long, curving spike. One unlucky drow had been too close when this happened, and the newly sprouted spike ran her through. She didn't die instantly, instead screaming and gurgling as the spike lodged in her stomach grew further upward, taking her with it. The rebels watched this gruesome sight for one stunned moment, then jumped back as a second spike formed and grew upward next to the first. Fleeing from these spikes, the rebels were stopped by five more spikes shooting out of the ground in front of them. The spikes spread, shooting up wherever the rebels tried to escape to. The spikes were impossibly sharp; if a golem moved out of a spike's way too slowly, the spike pierced through even its sturdy metal frame. Surrounded, the rebels were backed into a circle, the spikes multiplying all around them, their sharp points curving inward toward each other as they grew. When at last they stopped sprouting, the spikes had formed a gigantic cage around the rebels. Those few rebels that hadn't been caught in the makeshift cage were swiftly sought out and "dispatched" by the Valsharess's army.
Besides the low screeching noise of the spikes growing against each other at the top, the only sound was the rebels breathing harshly as they realized they were trapped. Suddenly, Valen ran at the spikes, smacking his flail into them full-force, to no effect. He tried again and again, but the spikes didn't even rattle.
"Stand back, you'll only hurt yourself," Enserric told Valen confidantly, nudging the tiefling aside. Valen simmered as Enserric pulled one oversized adamantium hand into a fist and slammed it into the spike. There was a resoundant ringing sound at the impact, and a pause; then Enserric's hand crumbled. The golem was quiet, staring at the stump where his fist had been. "Bloody Maker's been skimping on materials again..." he muttered.
Seeing that the lead golem had failed to bash their way out, the rebels rushed to free themselves. Spellcasters tried a variety of acidic and other dissolvent magics, but they did no better. Some rebels tried to squeeze their way out, but no use - the spikes were so closely grown that not even Deekin could squirm through. Well, perhaps he could, but if he made it too far past the spikes, he was suddenly jolted by a bolt of electricity that send him stumbling backward. Realizing the direness of their situation, some rebels (namely, Enserric) tried making death threats to the Valsharess's troops in hopes of frightening them into freeing them. Needless to say, the rebels were really in no position to be making such threats, and none of the Valsharess's soldiers even blinked (unless their eyes were feeling particularly dry). Some fed-up spellcasters tried blasting the Valsharess's troops apart with a few choice spells, but the same barrier that had shocked Deekin caught, and reflected their spells. A few accidental casualties on the rebels' part later, the spellcasters were threatened bodily harm by their teammates if they didn't stop.
Preoccupied, few rebels noticed what happened next, but those few that did quickly alerted the others. The Valsharess's army was strangely still and silent, when the soldiers began to move. The effect was rippling as the army parted, clearing a path in the sea of soldiers. The effect started farther off, gradually coming closer. Finally, the soldiers closest to the rebels' cage parted... and the rebels saw why.
The devil was the first they saw. His prominent horns heightening his already large, intimidating visage, the fiend walked with a swagger, due in part to his goatlike legs, but also to his pride. He had a lot of pride... and his current state hurt that pride a lot. Strands of magic twined around his body, sparkling and crackling vividly. Such insignificant little threads didn't look like much, but kept the devil bound. Deekin recognized the devil from his dream in Waterdeep, from what the Seer had said, and from the descriptions he had read in so many a tale. This was Mephistopheles, Archduke of the Eighth Hell... and striding ahead with more arrogance than Mephistopheles himself was his captor; the dread drow queen, the Valsharess.
The Valsharess's movements were slow and sultry, a confident smirk on her face as she gradually sidled her way toward the rebels, finally stopping no more than twelve inches from their prison. They couldn't get to her; she had no reason to keep a safe distance. The looks of hatred and fury the Valsharess was met with only broadened her smile.
"Vendui," she said. She paused, red eyes shimmering delightedly as she took in the sight before her, and began speaking in Common. "I see you've become ensnared in my little trap." Another pause. Many of the rebels fostered great loathing for the woman before them, but knew better than to show it now. The Valsharess shifted her weight to the other foot and cocked her head. "Oh? What's wrong? Are you feeling... ashamed?" The Valsharess cackled and strode to another side of the cage, peering in at the rebels which avoided her gaze. "You didn't honestly think you could defeat me, did you? I, who command an Archdevil, and more soldiers than you could count in your soon-to-be-shortened lifetimes?" The Valsharess cackled again and shook her head at their folly, grinning. "You are fools. I have crushed many rebels before you, and I will crush many after."
Unable to take this ridicule anymore, one of the rebels - a drow male - leapt to his feet and stormed as close to the Valsharess as the cage would allow. He began screaming at her in Drowish; Deekin didn't know what he was saying exactly, but had a pretty good idea. The Valsharess was sullen.
"Mephistopheles," she snarled, and issued a command in Drowish. Mephistopheles nodded resentfully; instantly, the drow male's eyes bulged as he clutched his stomach and keeled over, face contorting with silenced pain for one long minute before he slipped into death. The rebels gaped at the corpse. The Valsharess recovered her smirk, flexing her fingers comfortably around a whip in her hand.
"Vel'uss zhah huthin?" she sneered. "Who is next?" She tossed back her head and laughed. If he hadn't been so terrified, Deekin would have made a note on the cliched cheesiness of it all.
Standing a short distance from the others, Umbra watched all of this quietly. She watched as the drow male dropped to the ground and writhed in agony until his death; she watched Deekin's expression as he watched. And she listened as the Valsharess gloated, then had her devil pet kill off another drow in the same fashion. Umbra started. If this kept up - as she suspected it would - it wouldn't be long before the drow targeted Deekin...
"This one must do something!" Umbra whispered to herself. But what? The electric barrier protected against spells and physical objects... unless...
The rebels' shadows cast through the invisible barrier onto the ground outside the cage, unaffected.
No! Surely, there was another way! At the very least, her servants could do it!
No... her servants would not be strong enough. The Valsharess was powerful...
There was no alternative, or at least, no time to think of one. Morosely decisive, Umbra swept through the rebel crowd toward Deekin. The kobold looked up immediately at her approah. Before he could speak, she knelt down and swept him into a hug.
"Forgive this one, Deekin," Umbra pleaded. "For this one did not wish to harm you. Watch, now, and you will know why this one had no choice but to refuse you. Forgive this one... for this one loves you, Deekin. More than you will ever know." Umbra released from the hug and stood.
Deekin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Homicidal drow woman aside, this was too good to be true. "Boss!" he cried gleefully. "You really mea - " He stopped abruptly. Under Umbra's hood, two violet lights of eyes blazed. "Umm... Boss? You be feelings okay?" Umbra did not respond. Instead, she twisted at an unnatural angle and lifted into the air, letting her lead shoes drop with noisy clunks. "...Boss?" The strange eyes vanished; a dark energy flowed out of the robe's collar and arms, leaving it to drift empty to the ground. "BOSS!" Clinging to the ground, the darkness wasted no time in creeping out of the cage; the barrier guarded againt the arcane and the physical, but not shadows. Twirling into a column, the darkness reared up before the Valsharess, who noticed too late. But, did she ever notice.
The drow queen's eyes widened in fear as the darkness fell upon her. "MEPHISTOPHE - " She never finished, cutting herself off with a blood-curdling scream. The scream wore on, the screamer completely covered in the darkness. When at last the scream died off, the darkness pulled away. Black metal armor clanked together and clattered to the ground, all that remained of the Valsharess.
All eyes watched as the darkness materialized in a humanoid shape. Two legs and two spindly arms, extending into fingers, long and clawlike. A featureless head-shape formed, two violet lights for eyes blinking into existence on it. They looked sad. And as Deekin watched, he realized.
Umbra had never been a Shadovar at all.
She was a shadow.
It was a shame everyone's eyes were on what Umbra had revealed herself - itself? - to be. They might have noticed the devil, grinning triumphantly as his bonds were severed with the Valsharess's connections to this plane. Not that it would have done them much good if they had. Only Umbra noticed, but as she moved to strike, a globe of light sprang up around her. Realizing that a freed devil didn't bode well for them, either, the Valsharess's forces quickly began attacking Mephistopheles - and just as quickly began dropping dead. Those that weren't anxious to die bolted. Chuckling to himself, Mephistopheles levitated the globe which held Umbra, and watched with some amusement as the shadow tried and failed to break free of her luminous prison. Passing through such brilliant walls would mean certain destruction for a creature of darkness; realizing this, the shadow gave up.
"Boss... no," Deekin murmured, still incredulous that this was happening. He attempted to charge through a gap in the cage bars, but even with the Valsharess dead, the barrier still worked. Deekin was jolted back; dazedly standing back up, he could only watch helplessly.
"A shadow? Disguising itself as a human?" Mephistopheles mused, passing the light globe from hand to hand and inspecting the poor undead within. "A curious thing, aren't you? And a hero, no less! Fascinating... I'll have to study you later. For now, to Cania with you." Mephistopheles made a motion with his free hand, and the globe vanished.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Deekin shrieked, falling to his knees. Fortunately, Mephistopheles didn't seem to notice the kobold in particular as he strode over to the rebels' cage and picked up gloating where the Valsharess had left off. Valen was enraged, of course, but Deekin couldn't have cared less. The kobold picked himself up long enough to walk over to Umbra's robe, then plopped down. Ignoring the braggart baatezu towering over the cage, Deekin picked up the robe, running a cautious thumb over the gray fabric. There were powerful illusory magics in that garment, to give a shadow substance, but Deekin was not interested in them, but in his only reminder of Umbra. Hugging the robe close to him, Deekin was vaguely aware of something falling out of Umbra's pack. He reached to pick it up - and stopped as he saw what it was.
It was a bouquet of false flowers, made from coarse cloth and scented with cheap cologne. This was the bouquet Deekin had given Umbra in the Anauroch, all those years ago... and she still had it. She had maintained it, no less - so long in an adventurer's pack, and it was only slightly squashed.
"Boss," Deekin whispered, picking the bouquet up carefully. "You remembers..."
"Forgive this one... for this one loves you, Deekin. More than you will ever know."
She DID love him. But she hadn't said so, because of what she was. Undead... how could she be undead? A shadow, no less! But it didn't really matter, did it? After all, Deekin was a kobold, and she had accepted him. Deekin didn't care what Umbra was; he loved her anyway. He found tears trickling down his face, vision blurring as he stared at the bouquet.
Hidden in the bouquet, something twinkled out at him. Wiping away some of the tears, Deekin plucked it out. It was small, twisted and radiant... the Relic of the Reaper, which Umbra had used to return to him.
"Takes Deekin to Umbra," Deekin pleaded. Loosing teleportational shadow strands, the Relic obeyed. Deekin, the bouquet and the Relic vanished from Toril - just as Mephistopheles started to get violent.