Rebellion

The doorway at the back of the chamber was shrouded in the same curtain of white smoke that the previous doorway had been covered in. Small, magical, colored lights danced over the doorway, and Trey cast an uncertain look into the room behind them. The construct had told them that the door could send them wherever they wished… but where did they need to go?

"The bottom," Alain spoke from behind him, as if he had read his teacher's thoughts. "If we concentrate on the bottom on the Undermountain, even if we have not seen it, the magic of the portal should be able to see us through. That's what I would guess, anyway."

Yes, the bottom. If Halaster was anywhere, it would on the "ground" floor, closest to the entrance to the Underdark. He had come to rescue his student first and foremost, but with that taken care of…there was still the matter of the drow to deal with. If he remembered Durnan's words correctly, Halaster would be the most appropriate person to speak with concerning them. That is, if he wasn't the one behind the assassinations…

But what do you do to an Archmage, hm? Slap him on the wrist and tell him to stop it, stop it right now? a small, nagging voice in the back of his head asked. Well, there was simply no use worrying about it now— they would cross that bridge when they came to it. He cleared his mind and painted a picture of what the bottom of the Undermountain would look like: closer to a cave as opposed to the labyrinthine structure of the upper levels, dimly lit with vermin crawling blindly through the few skeletons of their predecessors. He imagined faceless, shapeless beasts creeping through the darkness, hunting, sleeping, eating, being. Trey closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Paint a picture of the bottom in your mind before you step in, Alain!" he bid his student, and stepped forward. He felt déjà vu wash over him as the fog enveloped him, chilling him to thebone. When was the last time he had stepped into the unknown with no regard for his safety? Twice. Once, before Drogan's death, and then after, as he and Alain had leapt into the Shadow Plane.. The portal Drogan had created for them had been an almost instantaneous transfer: here in the crumbling ruins of an ancient civilization one moment, and the next, the fallen city of Undrentide. The Shadow Plane portal's transfer had been seamless: one moment he was in the world of light, the next one of shadow and whispers and other things that should not be spoken of. Neither experience compared to this.

There was utter darkness as he stepped into this portal, and a pause. It was unnerving, as he opened his eyes to find himself floating in the emptiness of space. No, between space, between planes. The blackness was complete, he could almost smell the magic surrounding him, and distantly, heard the sound of a growl.

He was not alone. Something lurked in this other-space, and if the spell failed, or his destination could not be read…

His perceptions opened, and for a moment, he could see all the levels of the Undermountain opening up to him. The difference between the levels resembled the makeup of a bookshelf, neatly divided with countless shortcuts, pitfalls and trapdoors leading from one to the next. In one level, he could see in his mind's eye a flesh golem screaming at the top of its artificial lungs as it fled several pursuing drow. A few levels below that, a pack of Worgs surrounded a lone drow scout. The drow's crimson and black armor was torn in places, and she looked ready to collapse on the spot.

He blinked, trying to remove himself from the approaching slaughter, and focused his thoughts towards the bottom of the Undermountain. From his

(left? right?)

there came another low grunt: almost like a cat's purr. He turned his mind and abruptly all thought ceased to be. A gigantic, formless spider-face was in front of him, its luminous yellow eyes beaming like lanterns— hundreds upon hundreds of them. He sensed, rather than saw, a jumbled body made of bristly hairs and numerous legs behind it. The monstrosity seemed to loom over, with something that looked horribly like human skin dangling from its chelicerae. What was worse, the image seemed to shimmer, and Trey understood in a flash of insight that this was another glamour, like the construct which had worn Alain's skin. This creature's true form was so… so alien that he could not even comprehend it. Instead, his mind had converted the monstrosity into the closest thing it could accept.

It regarded with a frigid detachment and Trey felt his will begin to erode. If he stared at it for any longer, he would simply go mad, and that would be the end of it.

Outoutoutoutoutoutout! his mind yammered. Desperately, he called up images of cellars, basements, bottoms. There was a small click all around him: the sound of a key entering a lock. The creature lunged for him, its hideous arms extending…

And Trey stumbled out of the smoke-filled doorway roughly three hundred feet below he had entered.

His arms flailed in front of him defensively, before realizing what had happened. A few seconds later, Alain flew out from the doorway, sprawling on the ground behind him.

"You saw it too then?" Trey asked, and Alain nodded slowly, getting to his feet.

"W-what was it?" The young monk reached into the pockets of his robe, and pulled out the Relic of the Reaper, which was seemed to gleam even in the dim light of the cavern. "I could feel myself…slipping towards it, and then I think the Relic-" he paused, seeming to search for the word with some frustration before finally seizing it, "yanked me out like a bass on the fishing line."

"There are things in this world that are ancient, beyond our understanding. As for the Relic…" Trey trailed off, looking at the artifact dubiously. Outwardly, it resembled little more than a twisted up chunk of metal and stone, but this was the second time it had played a direct role in saving his student's life. "Keep it close to you. The Relic leads to a plane of sorts— perhaps holding it saved you." Alain nodded slightly as if that settled the matter, but deep down, both monks had their own doubts.

The bottom level was completely unlike the previous two. The air was stale and their voices echoed for a long way, reverberating off of the walls for a disturbingly long distance. The granite ceiling sloped upward, out of sight in the gloom. Stalagmites pushed up from the ground every few feet in random patterns, and the only source of light was near the doorway, from nearby torches. Farther into the cave was only blackness.

Trey dug a hand into his supply bag before fishing out a small, light-blue crystal. He tapped the metal surface twice, and murmured the word of activation. The crystal flashed a white light, and Trey felt a tingling run over his skin. He handed the crystal to Alain, who mimicked his actions, and took a few steps into the cave. The light-giving crystal had turned him into a walking candle, his own hands-free source of illumination. The two males proceeded into the cavern, staying behind outcropping of rock and stalagmites whenever possible. But they were not espied by any Drow. None that could be seen, that is.

The farther into the cavern they crept, the harder it became to judge exactly how large it was. The soft squeaks of sleeping bat colonies among the stalactites grew fainter and fainter. Soon, another sound was heard by Trey's ears, one distinctly out of place in their current surroundings: the distinctive crack of a whip. They followed the sound to its source and hid themselves behind a large outcropping of rock. Motioning to Alain to keep his silence, Trey peered out from behind the boulder.

They had stumbled upon the outskirts of some sort of work-camp. Formians— a cross between ants and centaurs which the pair had encountered in the Anarouch— were shifting and breaking up rock under the eyes of drow over-seers. From his perspective, Trey guessed that the Formians were being used to break ground for a direct entrance to the Undermountain to the Underdark. It seemed that whatever magic the Drow harnessed to teleport to and from the surface was a limited commodity. Past the group of Formians upon a high ledge, he spotted the Formian Queen. She was hard to miss, with a larger abdomen than the other Formians and strange, runic markings in her carapace. However, multicolored ray of light crisscrossed the Queen's body, seeming to pass through the chitinous shell it touched. This was a containment spell, he assumed, as the Formian's "face" seemed to sporadically contort in pain.

Alain noticed little of these things. Instead, his eyes marked the watchful expression of the Drow mage close to the Queen. He saw a Formian, carrying a stone much too big for it, stumble. A nearby ogre brought a wicked-looking poleaxe down on the creature with no hesitation. Greenish ichor sprayed from the wound as the Formian chittered pitifully, but the Ogre's face was expressionless as it stepped over the body, and lifted the rock in one fluid motion. Most of all, he marked the expression each Formian's face seemed to show: mingled rage and helplessness at their situation. It reminded him of the thralls they had seen in Ashtara's camp in the city of Undrentide. They had been skittish and refused to look anyone in the eyes, a side-effect of the beatings and shock collars, courtesy of their lizardfolk masters. These creatures probably would not have time to develop such behavior. They would simply toil to their deaths, or be slaughtered by the Drow.

It was a lamentable situation for the Formians, but in Trey's opinion, they would do better to avoid revealing themselves to the drow and move on in silence. Surely Halaster was somewhere ahead— if he was the source of the troubles with the dark elves, then they would put him down. If he wasn't, then the archmage could remove the dark elves with greater ease than the pair could. Either way, the most strategic choice was to-

Trey didn't notice Alain had moved from his hiding place, until a golden shuriken embedded itself in one of the ogre's eyeballs. There was the dull clatter of steel as the ogre's halberd slipped from its fingers as it clapped a hand to its face, groaning gutturally. There was a blur of movement from the corner of Trey's eye, and Alain entered the battle, voicing some inarticulate war cry. Though he cursed the boy's haste, he understood his decision: the boy just couldn't idly watch the suffering of the Formians. Trey removed a few shuriken from his robe as he stepped out from behind the boulder and followed after his student, flicking a few of the throwing stars as cover fire.

"Freedom!" Alain cried. "Rise up!" That said, he plunged into the middle of the colony, making his way towards the drow wizard. The Formains were a telepathic race, ruled as one colony by their queen. Their attacks could be coordinated wordlessly and liable to change at the speed of thought. If he could free their Queen…

The drow captors were utterly caught by surprise, and the sudden attack served to befuddle all but the veteran drow soldiers. Within a few moments, however, the Drow force moved into action, and the Formian rebellion would have crushed, had it not been for Trey. A drow swordsman barking commands to the rest of its kin was silenced thanks to a well-placed shuriken.

Alain moved forward with little resistance towards the upraised platform where the queen was held. The drow spellcaster had time for one enchantment, summoning a snarling wolf in hopes of some protection. Unperturbed by the beast, Alain closed the distance and delivered a straight kick into the drow's abdomen. The force of the blow was enough to push the dark elf right off the edge of the precipice, and the drow didn't even have the breath to scream as he plummeted to his death on the rocks below.

The magical animal dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and the bonds of light surrounding the Formian Queen immediately began to fade. As the creature regained control of it/herself, she sent a telepathic command to the rest of her Hive, repeating Alain's words: Rise up!Kill the Drow!

The Formian rebellion strengthened in earnest as the command rippled over the mass, and the few remaining Drow either fled or were killed under the piercing pincers of soldier Formians. Trey didn't bother giving chase to the survivors, but instead came up behind Alain, who was standing before the Formian Queen. The two were looking intently at each other, and he was momentarily puzzled, until the Queen surprised them both by addressing them in screechy Common.

"You are humans, correct? Forgive me for my uncertainty, but I am not familiar with all bipedal creatures," the Queen said, her antennae flicking.

"Yes, we're humans," Trey answered. "And you are a Formian?"

"Yes, I am the Formian queen of this colony," the Queen said, though to Alain, her voice sounded distracted. Her antennae were fanning the air rhythmically, and he guessed she was communicating to the rest of the colony while speaking to them.

"We have questions," said Trey, understanding that time was of the essence. There was little time for gratitude or the exchanging of pleasantries; while he had supported his student's impulsiveness, he was also aware of the danger it had placed them into. More Drow might be coming, and they had been lucky enough to strike with surprise on their side. A larger Drow force had the power to crush them.

However, the Formian Queen was already shaking her head from side to side, a gesture that looked normal except when performed by a giant talking bug.

"I have no time for questions, human creature. Without a Queen, the colony will die, and my scouts tell me there are more Drow about. But," she continued, "you have saved a Formian Queen, and you have earned the friendship of the hive." She looked at them both with her large, lidless eyes, and Alain felt as if he was being marked. "Good-bye human creatures- we may meet again." With that, the Queen leapt off of the precipice, landing easily on the stone below, and scurried into the shadows. The rest of the Formian colony, carrying their wounded, followed after her, and Trey could faintly hear the burrowing sounds of rock and dirt being pushed away. Then the sounds died away, and the colony was gone.

The corpses of Drow, Ogres, and one Minotaur littered the stone rock, flies already buzzing greedily over the dead. The sheer number of Formians had overpowered them. Trey descended from the top of the ridge carefully, dreading the sound of reinforcements arriving out of the dark to avenge their dead. Thankfully, none came.

"Next time, Alain, try to warn me before you go rushing off into battle," Trey said dryly, his eyes falling upon the Ogre Alain had struck first. Alain dipped his head and noddedas Trey continued, "Still… this time things worked out. My biggest fear was that the Formians might turn on you instead of the Drow, and you would be surrounded by a sea of enemies."

"No," Alain said promptly, shaking his head. "Didn't you see it in them? They wanted to fight back, but they couldn't endanger their Queen. Besides, the Drow would have killed them once they did whatever they were supposed to do. Could we really just leave them here?" Trey shook his head, still surveying the destruction. He had seen it in their Ki, their aura: the formless spiritual energy that all living things possess. There had been the subtle shades of fear and despair tinged with the undercurrents of anger. They were a powderkeg awaiting the match, and Alain had proved to be the vital spark. This time, they had won. Next time, they might not have that same luck. Nonetheless…

"Your heart was in the right place, Alain. Still, try and signal me next time, so that we can coordinate our efforts." Alain nodded again, his expression apologetic."For now, let's move on. If there are more Drow around, it would be better to hunt than be hunted." They both re-applied the magical light of the crystal, which had faded during the battle, and pushed on farther into the cave. Behind them, a hooded drow took note of the bloody aftermath of the rebellion, and continued in stealthy pursuit of the monks.

After an hour of wandering aimlessly around the cavern (to the annoyance of the drow behind them) and a few encounters with the drow survivors of the Formian rebellion, the two finally reached a stone archway with some form of inscription carved into the rock above it. The dark-skinned tracker decided that it would be most fortunate to reveal herself to the males here, risky as it may be. She had observed the two in combat, and if they attacked her on sight, she had to be ready to flee. With an inaudible murmur, she dispelled the enchantment of invisibility cloaking her form and stepped towards their light, her hands held away from her sides.

"Hold, I mean you no harm."

The younger male visibly flinched, his right hand flicking towards a pouch holding his shurikens before he caught himself. She did not know who he was. The older male however, Trey, didn't seem surprised.

"I was wondering when you would step forward," he said calmly, putting a hand on the younger male's shoulder. "Wait, Alain. This one has something to say." He nodded to her, though Alain's hand didn't budge.

"You are Trey Nefzen, correct? You are something of a legend among my people, and it does not surprise me that you saw me." Though it did surprise her, worse, it rattled her. Her days as a Red Sister were long behind her, but her skills had not atrophied with time. It should have impossible for her to be detected by sound alone.

"Why am I a legend, exactly?" Trey sounded mildly amused, but there was a subtle change in the younger monk's expression at his words. Envy, perhaps.

"To date, you are the first to continue to draw breath after the Valsharess had decided to kill you. No small accomplishment— but I am getting ahead of myself.

"Who are you?" The one called Alain blurted.

"I am Nathyrra, part of a group of rebel drow, who wants to help you succeed in freeing Halaster, and stopping the attacks on Waterdeep." She could see the questions in their eyes and could only imagine what they might be thinking. The Seer had been specific in her instructions, however. Her prophecies had saved them— all of them, no matter what some might think— so far, but she was not infallible, and she knew it.

If they will agree to aid us, then they will know everything. But until then…

"So you know where Halaster is?" Alain asked, his hand inching back towards his side.

An easy question, Nathyrra thought, almost smiling in spite of the danger. "Halaster has been captured, and is being held alive. He is not too far from here, but a larger encampment of Drow, larger than the one you defeated, precedes them. You will have to find some way past them, if you want to go further."

"Hmm. Thank you for the information, Nathyrra, if it is accurate. I know a little about the Valsharess," Trey said, thinking of his dream back in the Inn, which felt like months ago. "But what's this about you and drow rebels?"

"Suffice it to say that not all Drow follow the Valsharess. She seeks to gain power, and it is to our mutual advantage to keep her from getting that. Soon all will be made clear," she added, seeing the suspicious look in Alain's eyes, "but for now a choice lies before you. You can trust me, or not."

Trey scrutinized her carefully, and after a few moments, Nathyrra felt distinctly uncomfortable under his gaze. Then he dipped his head in agreement. "We will trust you, as it is to our mutual gain. However, if we are double-crossed, it would be best not to approach us again." It was one of the most unremarkable threats Nathyrra had ever heard, yet she did not doubt that they would follow through with it, given the opportunity. What can you expect? Every Drow here has taken a swing at them, no wonder they're nervous. She nodded to them, before stepping back into the shadows, already casting another spell of invisibilty.

"We will meet again, on the other side, I hope." Her words seemed to fade with her form as she disappeared from sight, and Alain relaxed slightly. His student could not have sensed the presence of their tail, but to Trey, the aura of her Ki had made Nathyrra stand out like a candle in the dark. He had held off from taking direct action until there could be some way of ascertaining her motives. There was no way of knowing if Nathyrra was telling the truth, but… she could have attacked us at any time and has chosen against it. This speaks volumes.

"Well then." He stared into the dark for a few moments after the dark elf before turning his eyes to his student, who still looked a bit bewildered. "According to Nathyrra, another Drow camp should not be too far away— and Halaster with it. Let's try and find them."

"And if there are too many for us?" Alain questioned. If Trey trusted Nathyrra, then he would not, just to be safe. "What if she's a part of the camp she told us about, and we're going into an ambush?"

Trey actually laughed, and tipped his incredulous student a wink. "Come on, Alain. I would think that you of all people would be getting used to being ambushed. Third time's the charm, right?"