Yasha stared down at the bodies of the fallen drow and frowned. Valen had warned her that it was likely that the Valsharess would send people to investigate the island as well, and his judgment had been right on the mark. The entire encampment had attacked them as soon as they had stumbled upon the drow. Most of the bodies of the enemy now lay covered in the blankets she had taken from their camp, lined up in an orderly and stately fashion. Deekin followed her as she worked, holding aloft a small stone that had been enchanted to give off a soft, blue light.
The final body to be covered was one of the Red Sisters, an assassin in the service of the Valsharess. If there was any magic in the bright red armor that had allowed her to blend into the shadows, it was dormant now with its wearer dead. Nathyrra had told her, before Yasha had left the Seer's temple, that at one time she had also been part of this group of assassins. She gloomily wondered what twist of fate had made Nathyrra an ally, and this drow dead by Yasha's blade.
"My lady, if I might ask: why are you doing that?" Yasha turned toward Valen as he spoke. The tiefling stood well back from where she had dragged the bodies, his arms crossed. She couldn't tell from the even tone of his voice if he was voicing disapproval or curiosity. She decided to assume the later.
"It doesn't seem right to leave them lying around like rotting carrion," she replied.
"They would not offer you the same courtesy, were your positions switched."
She looked down at the nameless Red Sister for a moment, before dragging the blanket to cover her. "Perhaps. I'm not them, however."
She stepped back and rubbed her aching shoulder. Her entire left side was throbbing with a dull ache, punctuated by the occasional stabbing pain when she moved her shoulder the wrong way. Grateful as she was to still be breathing, she had certainly not escaped the last battle unscathed. Valen had lived up to his word, however. He had waded among the enemy dealing death with breath-taking efficiency. She tilted her head again, testing the tissue in her shoulder. She would need some healing, soon, but there was one last thing she had to do before then. She drew Duty, slowly and somberly, and saluted the fallen.
"May the gods see your souls safely to their final destinations, wherever those might be." She looked up and down the line of fallen drow, and resheathed her sword. Whether for good or ill, that was as much of a eulogy she could muster for them. They had tried to kill her after all.
"Do you always do that?"
Yasha shrugged, and winced at he pain as she grabbed up her shield and pack. She shook her head once, shifting the weight of her equipment to her right arm as the pain in her left intensified. "I try. There are some times when it isn't really practical."
"Even less practical than the middle of the Underdark?"
She didn't really have anything to say in reply, so she didn't. She ignored his considering gaze as she walked past, and after a moment followed her as she led him and Deekin as far away from the dead drow as the natural cavern permitted. She finally collapsed against a broken stalagmite, propped her shield beside her, and started burrowing in her bag. She pulled out and unrolled a long, narrow bit of leather and cloth, with loops all along on side to slide small potion bottles into. She morosely ran her fingers across the ones that remained.
"Is there some problem, my lady?" Valen asked, the sharp edge of impatience in his voice.
"No," she replied, raising an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. "Are we in so much of a hurry that we can't spare a few moments for consideration?"
"I fail to see what there is to consider. We seem to have plenty of healing potions available. Heal yourself and let us move on."
She pulled one delicate bottle from the center of the roll. Its contents were a pure, brilliant green, and it seemed to shimmer slightly in the light of Deekin's light stone.
"This," she said, holding it up for Valen to see, "is a potion I purchased from a druid in the Anaurach desert. It has very nice spicy-fruity taste. I can even imagine some decadent noble serving it at some party to a guest he truly wishes to impress."
Valen certainly didn't look very impressed. He frowned at her, obviously hoping she would get to the point, and his tail twitched his irritation. Yasha slipped the potion back into its slot then drew one from farther down. The liquid within it was thicker and darker, though it still sparkled in the dim light.
"This I...acquired from the lair of a very unpleasant undead fellow, right after he met a very permanent final end." Yasha smirked up at the impatient tiefling. "It tastes like crap."
Was that her imagination, or did the corner of his mouth twitch a bit?
"And...?" he prompted.
"Well, they are both powerful healing potions, able to quite miraculously cure whatever injuries you might have. I wonder, however, why someone would choose to make such a foul tasting version when a much more pleasant alternative is obviously available. Why would someone Choose to do that? I don't...I don't understand."
Yasha frowned down at the bottle. It wasn't the taste of various healing potions that bothered her, and she knew it. She wasn't sure if she could give voice to her deeper worries. They seemed so melodramatic. He tilted his head at her, narrowing his eyes, and his twitching tail slowed. "That seems like an odd thing to think about at such a time as this," he replied.
She rolled the vial between her hands and hunched a bit. Nathyrra and dozens of drow were her allies. Dozens more drow, including former allies of Nathyrra, were her enemies. She had vowed to put her life on the line to save one, and in the process vowed to slaughter the other. She gripped the vial title for a moment. "It seemed appropriate. What can I say?"
She hurt. She was tired. She was most tired of her own self-pity, however. She was about to break the silence by finally drinking the healing potion when Valen responded.
"Perhaps they feel they have no choice. "
Surprised, she looked up at him, but his face showed no hint that he spoke of anything but the ingredients to healing potions. Yasha opened her mouth to respond, but Deekin interrupted, hissing. "Boss! Look!"
Yasha looked in the direction Deekin pointed, back towards the camp of the Valsharess' followers, reflexively grasping the hilt of her sword at the alarm in his voice. At first, she could see nothing in the deeply shadowed darkness, but then something huge moved at the very edge of her vision. She quickly drew Duty as some creature reached towards the line of bodies in the distance. Was it a tentacle or a claw? Whatever it was snatched a couple of corpses out of the line and faded back into the blackness. Yasha screwed up her face in disgust as she heard the horrible crunching noises that followed.
"What is that?" she demanded, looking at Valen. His clear blue eyes were focused on the far end of the cave, no doubt piercing the darkness better than her brown ones ever could. This time, Yasha was certain she didn't envy the ability to see what was happening.
"One of the many less pleasant denizens of the Underdark, my lady," he replied dryly. He looked at her askance, and then back at whatever it was on the other side of the cavern. Though alert and his tail swished again, he didn't seem alarmed, so Yasha lowered her blade. As the crunching sounds faded a bit, he continued. "You are not very familiar with the Underdark."
It was more of a statement, than a question. Of course, Yasha was not in a position to disagree.
"I've heard mostly rumors," she admitted. "I read a book with very sketchy descriptions of some nasty sounding creatures." She glanced briefly at Deekin, who was still staring intensely at the distant, unseen thing. "And whatever stories Deekin might have to tell, I suppose. That's about it." She looked back at Valen to find his piercing gaze now on her. She lifted her eyebrows, and decided to give another peace offering. "That is why," she continued, "I must depend on you for such things."
He crossed his arms at her words. Little else in his demeanor changed as he returned her frank look, though his tail stopped its swaying altogether to come to rest against his calf. After a few moments, he looked back at the other end of the cave. "This particular creature prefers to feed on carrion. If we don't approach it, it should not attack us. In that, it is fairly rare among the creatures of the Underdark. The first rule for every creature of the Underdark is survival. There are precious few who would not enslave you or make you their dinner... or sell you to one who would." He grimaced slightly. "I've always considered the Underdark to be not unlike the Abyss. In intent, anyhow," he finally added.
"Well, that's a pleasant thought," she replied, ignoring her pain, she bent over and snatched one of the vials of healing liquid from the still open roll. Biting the cork out, she drained its contents and gagged as the bitter liquid washed over her tongue and burned her throat.
"One of the ones that 'tastes like crap'?" Valen asked, amused, as he handed her a canteen.
Yasha winced and nodded, gratefully washing the foul taste out of her mouth with the cool water. The magic was taking effect, however, and her shoulder tingled where the healing repaired the damaged tissue.
Valen's gaze was intent on her as he accepted his canteen back. "The Seer seems to think that you are special enough that we should place our lives in your hands. I wonder if that is wise... I suppose I shall see."
"Deekin places his life in boss' hands," Deekin said, turning towards the two, "and Deekin gots no complaints. But Deekin's life be only really little."
Valen seemed taken aback. "Well, I... I suppose that's something, isn't it?"
Yasha smiled at Deekin, and shook her head as his gaze turned back in the direction of the other side of the cave. She forgot, sometimes, how quietly dedicated the little kobold was. It was sobering. She sat back down wearily, sheathing Duty once more. When he noticed her sit, Deekin quickly sat as well and, pulling a stack of parchment and ink out of his pack, began to scribble notes quickly.
Yasha then rolled her eyes, and motioned at the potion roll. "Do you need any healing, Deekin?"
Pausing in his writing, he blinked up at her a moment, then shook his head. "Deekin is OK, boss. Deekin didn't go charging into the middle of the drow yelling his head off."
Yasha feigned a hurt look. "Are you implying something, Deekin?"
Deekin turned towards her and tilted his head. His eyes flashed in the dim light, despite the clueless tone to his voice. "'Implying something', boss? Deekin not sure what you mean."
"You don't like my new battle cry? I thought I would try something new. 'Get ready to be beaten by a girl' just didn't seem to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies anymore."
Deekin was the soul of wide-eyed innocence when he responded. "Did it used to, boss?"
"Perhaps it merely confused them," Valen suggested.
Despite her attempt to hold the façade of feeling hurt, Yasha felt the beginnings of a grin breaking through, and finally surrendered to a chuckle. She offered a healing potion to Valen then as well. When he shook his head, she tucked them away.
She rolled her shoulder, only to find the pain had not quite receded. Yasha stifled a groan and leaned back against the stalagmite. She would prefer to move on immediately. She wasn't terribly excited to be spending time in the same chamber as whatever that was on the other side, regardless of how much Valen assured her it would not pursue them. However, she knew from past experience it was best to allow the magic of the potions to do their work before exerting herself. She was left to brood and stare up at the distant ceiling while it worked. She focused on resisting the urge to imagine what might be happening to the bodies of her fallen foes. After short time, she squinted upwards at the shadowed ceiling above, then grabbed her Duty and held it slowly aloft. Responding to her will, the holy sword glowed brightly.
Huge bats crowded the rough stone above her, shuffling uneasily against each other at the bright light.
"Odd," she said.
Deekin looked up at her comment and frowned. "What's odd, boss? Deekin knows that there are lots of bats in caves. Big caves would mean big bats, Deekin thinks."
"True," she responded. "But I've been told that bats prefer to lair near the entrance of caves, since they hunt in the surface world." She flinched as the unpleasant noises resumed from the direction of the camp. Against her better judgment, Yasha glanced over in that direction, but saw nothing of the strange creature she knew was there even with the greater light from her sword. She shrugged to herself and looked back up at the bats.
"There is an exit to the surface not far from here that I know of," Valen commented, his voice taunting. He smirked when Yasha looked at him. "We could... search for it, if you wished."
She rolled her eyes. "I can't even comment on the local wildlife with you, can I? Well, I appreciate the offer, but I think I can stand being here. For a bit longer anyway."
The light from Duty died back down to a low, golden hue as she strapped on her shield, grabbed her bag and marched out of the very unpleasant cave and into the tunnel beyond. She frowned at her own irritation. It was not only Valen's apparent desire to see her leave that bothered her. During the combat with the drow she had actually felt the magic of the geas come alive inside her, pushing her onward to slaughter all that stood between her and the Valsharess. She didn't like being pushed to homicide by some insane archwizard's magics. She didn't like the unrelenting darkness that surrounded her. She didn't like the creatures that inhabited that darkness. She most certainly didn't need some smart aleck tiefling taunting her to do what a large portion of her truly desired to do – turn her back on the Underdark and not look back.
Clucking at herself, she lifted Duty so that its amber light lit the low ceiling above her, driving away the flitting shadows. She had told Valen the truth during their talk in the boat. The Penance of Duty called on her to protect any of good faith that asked. Even if it did not, the Seer and her followers were good people who deserved what aid she could give them, and she knew well enough what would happen to the people of Waterdeep were the Valsharess to complete her conquest of this part of the Underdark. And if she felt the desire to earn the respect of the disposed leader of those forces, that only made sense, after all.
She nodded to herself. Focusing solely on the negatives of her situation would get her nowhere. Worse, it would likely get her killed. The best thing to do would be to focus instead on the task at hand, and how to accomplish her goals. She paused, holding her sword ahead of her like a torch as she studied a particularly slippery incline ahead.
"Deekin," she said, picking her way up the slope as best as she could. "What do you know of the avariel?"
The kobold peered up at her from the bottom of the hill. "Deekin knows some stories, boss. Mostly about stupid humans that think they were angels."
She paused in her climb to give him a surprised look, raising her eyebrows.
"Uh," he said, looking embarrassed. "They ARE dragon stories, boss."
She snorted, and turned her attention back to climbing. Bracing her foot firmly against a rock perched along the wall, she pushed herself higher. "Nothing else, then?"
He was silent for a moment. "They're elves. They got wings and fly. They live in mountains. That's all Deekin can think of."
Yasha grabbed a hold of a nearby stalagmite and pulled herself farther upwards. "What about you Valen?"
"I'm afraid I don't know as much about the surface of this world as I might like."
That was certainly very odd phrasing. Yasha paused again with her hand braced against the wall, and after being sure of her footing, looked quizzically down at him. Below her, Deekin had begun his ascent as well, though Valen still stood at the bottom, watching them both climb.
"The surface of 'this world'?" she asked the tiefling.
He nodded. "I mentioned that I was a planar being, did I not, my lady?"
Yasha furrowed her brow at him. She had assumed that his reference to being a planar being involved only his bloodline. It hadn't occurred to her that he was foreign to this world altogether. She turned back to scramble up the last part of her ascent and considered the implications of this. What plane did he hail from? How did he get here and why travel here in the first place? Though distracted, she took some time to verify that nothing awaited them at the top of the hill before looking back at her companions' progress. Deekin was over half way up now, and Valen had also begun his climb. Both were making progress that put her slow, laborious climb to shame. She was trying to find some way to ask the tiefling about his background, even he previously rebuffed her questions, when another voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Aren't you going to ask me?"
Valen looked up at her, alarmed. Yasha rolled her eyes and tapped the sword hilt that stuck up behind her shoulder. Deekin just ignored the new voice and kept climbing.
"I don't know, Enserric. You stopped talking to me."
"Well, you ARE the one that told me to shut up," he said acidly.
"Really?" she replied, her voice saccharine. "How horribly rude of me."
If swords had breath, Enserric would have been grumbling under his.
"Pray tell, Enserric," she said, resuming her watch for problems at the top of the incline, "what you know about avariel, then."
"Well, I don't know a lot about this particular topic. However, I am...errr...was a very learned mage, I'll have you know. You would be a fool not to ask for my input on such things."
She sighed, leaning over to offer Deekin a hand up over the last portion of the climb. From about half-way down, Valen looked up at her.
"You have a talking sword?"
Yasha didn't get a chance to respond to his question.
"She does indeed," the sword intoned, "though she now just straps me to her back and allows me to rot."
Yasha grinned wryly, but resumed looking out into the darkness ahead as she waited for Valen to finish his climb. "Rot, Enserric? I wasn't aware that magic forged steel rotted. Are you quite sure of the quality of your construction?"
"You are the most insufferable paladin I've ever had the misfortune to travel with," Enserric declared grimly.
"Really? How many have you traveled with, I wonder? Still, I don't see why I should consult you on this, as you admitted to not knowing anything about the topic at hand."
"Well, how much do you know about them?"
Yasha nodded at Valen when he topped the slippery rise. He nodded back, though his eyes kept wandering to the hilt she knew poked up over her shoulder. She considered Enserric's question as she led their way further down the tunnel. Drogan had forced her to read many, many books on more kinds of creatures than she believed she would ever meet. They were, as needs be, rather sketchy on details. "Well, I did read a book that mentioned them," she admitted.
"Oh? And did this book read: 'See the winged elf fly. Fly, avariel, fly'?" the sword responded.
She sniffed, holding her Duty up in time to just catch something that looked like a small spider disappearing into a crevice.
"Charming," she said. "I imagine you just had to pry the ladies off of you." She paused, and then added scathingly, "When you were alive."
The whole scabbard on her back vibrated with his growling response. "Very well. What DID it say?"
"Well," she said, picking her way carefully over a gravelly section. "It said much of what Deekin mentioned. Winged elves, native to remote mountainous areas, and often mistaken by the few who see them as angels. In addition, it said they were isolationist, vain, capricious, and unpredictable. Flighty, you might say."
Enserric groaned. Deekin snickered. Yasha glanced back at her companions and was unexpectedly pleased to notice the shadow of a smile on Valen's face.
"They are also, on a whole, said to be very claustrophobic," she added, looking forward again.
"So," the tiefling said from behind her, "it would be unusual for a village of them to relocate to the depths of the Underdark."
"Unusual would be an understatement," she responded, nodding.
"Do you always talk this much when in hostile territory?" Valen added after a few steps.
Yasha looked pointedly at Duty, which shone brightly in the lightless cave. "Subtlety is hardly my strong point."
He acknowledged her point with a nod. "But there are many creatures in the Underdark who use 'subtlety' to great advantage. Listening for them can mean the difference between life and," he paused, his icey eyes glancing at her pointedly, "unpleasant crunching noises."
Yasha glanced back in the direction of the drow camp and grimaced. What was she to say to that? That the talking made the darkness all around less scary? That making light o fthe difficulties helped her face them? THAT would surely garner his respect. She shook her head once at her thoughts, kept her lips closed and continued on.
The passage was beginning to grow larger as the walked. She could no longer see both sides by Duty's light for a while. Finally, it opened up into a huge cavern, and she caught the first glimpse of the mysterious village they had been told about. It was brightly lit, to her relief, and evidently fairly well populated. As they came nearer, however, she realized that things were definitely stranger than she suspected. Though obviously the winged elves they were told to expect, they were surly and bedraggled. Their beautiful white wings were caked with dirt and grime, and they watched the intruders to their village with either hostility or apathy.
Deekin ranged ahead towards what was apparently a merchant square of some sort. Valen turned towards her, eyebrows raised.
"You mentioned they were often mistaken for celestials – angels, as you said?"
Yasha shrugged her confusion ruefully. She had to agree they hardly lived up to the semi-divine status the legends painted them with.
Shaking his head, he started to walk in the direction Deekin had gone, looking at the strange inhabitants curiously. Yasha followed, thoughtful. Again, she was reminded of his planar background. 'Celestials' had been the word he used for angels, and though she was familiar with it, to her it was a strange term. She'd seen the word used in some religious texts or the more arcane books from Drogan's library, but hardly anywhere else. She considered Valen, once more. In the brighter light, his hair seemed more the color of crimson fire than blood, as it had before. He was definitely handsome, though the horns that crowned his head were a keen reminder of where the otherworldly cast to his features originated. Despite the heavy armor he wore, he moved with the powerful grace of a great cat. His tail added to this impression, swaying back and forth languidly as he walked. It twitched, though, as Valen stopped abruptly and turned on her, eyebrows raised, with an unreadable expression on his face.
Yasha came to a stumbling halt. She felt her face grow warm and imagined it would soon rival Valen's hair in its shade of red.
"I wasn't...I was just...that is...uh..." she stammered lamely. She licked her lips as he just tilted his head at her expectantly. No coherent sentences seemed to be able to form in her brain, flail as she might to find one. "I didn't...didn't mean to..."
She looked around desperately, and with great relief caught Deekin's eye as he approached her.
"Umm...Boss?" he said, hesitantly.
"Yes! Yes, Deekin? What!?" She winced at herself as he flinched, taken aback by the vehemence of her reaction. She kept doing that to the poor kobold.
"Errr...Deekin thinks you should come talk to merchant elf. He is acting...odd." From the way he was looking at her, Yasha was sure he was thinking the same thing about her.
"Yes. Good. Uh. Bad." Yasha stopped herself and took a deep breath. She could still feel her cheeks burning from embarrassment. "Let's go talk to him," she said, nearly dragging Deekin off of his feet a she pulled him forward towards the merchant stalls.
Tyr, Torm and Ilmater! What was she thinking getting caught staring at a man's behind?! She growled at herself. What was she doing staring in the first place?
I wasn't staring at it. I was just looking at his tail.
She had a few moments to wonder if she needed to remember to confess to lying to herself before she arrived at the merchant's stall.