Graskmit- Abyssal for lackey, minion, or messenger.
Chapter 18
6:30 A.M., Morning of the Last DayAlong the lonely paths of the Underdark wilderness, all was quiet, almost unnaturally still. The crystalline silence seemed deafening in its perfection, carrying a foreboding quality with it, a subtle undertone just beneath the surface. This feeling invaded Lith My'athar like a stealthy predator, filling the space under the bed, beneath every rock, and behind every closed door.
The Seer, who had been kneeling before a makeshift altar to Eilistraee, abruptly broke out of her prayer. She rose warily and looked around the ruined Temple slowly, feeling strangely on edge. Faith in Eilistraee required complete, devout faith, and hardly anything really rattled her anymore. Being a Seer meant possessing a certain amount of composure, to be able to understand and accept the vision Eilistraee revealed to her. She had always believed that through belief in her Goddess, she could overcome any obstacle. Yet, there was no shaking the feeling of something being wrong this morning, some minor change in routine that had the potential to turn into a disaster.
Let go of your worry, she told herself, closing her eyes with an effort and resuming her position. She cleared her mind of all thought, trying to imagine a blank slate, smooth and completely unmarked. Falling into this state of mind seemed to create a clairvoyant atmosphere, she found, and almost immediately, she was granted a vision. Her neck lolled back, the whites of her eyes showing, and her hands clenched into fists spastically. A multitude of images flashed before her eyes, there and gone, before she could comprehend them. On some level of her mind, though, she did understand, no matter how quickly the mental images in her mind disappeared and reappeared.
She remained frozen in this position for perhaps thirty seconds, before snapping out of the trance. Vision returned slowly, as it always did, leaving her in a half-blind state, but she was too preoccupied to notice. Slowly, the images in her mind replayed, showing her a glimpse into the future. She was always reminded of peeking into a window when this occurred, and that was the truest way to describe it: an unblemished, unforgiving vision of what would occur, her gift and her curse. Blessed in the foresight of what happened around her, cursed only to watch and powerless to intervene. Now, she felt her own helplessness.
"Oh, Eilistraee, no…" the Seer whispered quietly, her skin paling, her luminous eyes envisioning what others would never see. Did that make her blessed, or cursed? On other days she would have referred to herself as the former.
In another part of the camp, almost at the same moment the Seer received her startling vision, Alain awoke with a vague feeling of loss and half-formed dreams fading in smoky interior of his mind. He sat up in his bed, kicking his feet out of the covers and onto the floor, wiping one bleary eye slowly. What had he dreamed about? He looked at the condition of the bed: blankets askew with one of the pillows on the floor, and concluded that he had been having some kind of nightmare.
Today's the day, he thought without realizing it; that thought was safely beneath the surface of his mind, floating in his sub-conscious. He got out of bed and dressed quickly, his mind focused on trying to recall the nightmare he had been having. He remembered being by himself in the courtyard of Lith My'athar, behind the second gate. The steel door had melted suddenly, and was replaced by a wall of green fire. A Balor Lord- he had never seen, and yet he knew that was what it was- had stepped through the flames carrying a large, bloodstained halberd. Just as the devil raised the polearm to strike, its stomach burst open, spilling its entrails out onto the stone. Kneeling in front of him, covered in gore, was an unarmed man. His body was almost engulfed with Ki, radiating out from his body. As the Balor fell to the ground, already in its death throes, the man's aura dimmed. The man had been Trey… and then he had awoke.
What did the dream mean? Alain was reminded of the dreams Trey had been having during their stay in the Yawning Portal Inn. Was this dream prophecy as well, or was it only his imagination running away with him? It could mean that I want Trey to rescue me from all of this fear, he reasoned, leaving the room and locking the door behind him. Or maybe I just saw the future… but why would that be important? What am I missing?
If Trey were here, he would tell him to disregard the dream. Dreams can be helpful, but more often they distract the mind at the most critical moment. How could one fight if they were worried about trying to avoid their own death? At the very least, if the dream was prophecy, then at least no one had gotten hurt in front of him. It was relatively harmless, as far as dreams go.
He climbed the hill overlooking the archery ranges, expecting to find Valen in his usual spot. The tiefling was an early riser, and he expected the troops to do the same. The hill was the best spot to get a view of everything at once, it gave one a feeling of control that Alain couldn't deny. But Valen wasn't there this morning. Alain watched the archers practice for a few minutes. One of the Drow missed his target by a hair, and the monk chose that moment to move on, the indignant cursing of Imloth fading into the background.
It wasn't until he wandered by the docks that he saw him. Valen was sitting along the edge of the pier, looking out at the water with an unfamiliar expression on his face. Was it… peace? Lethargy? His Devil's Bane lay on the pier next to him, the farthest distance Alain had seen it from Valen.
"What's wrong with you?" Alain asked, sitting down on the pier next to him and being careful not to allow his feet to carelessly penetrate the surface of the black water. The Dark River was aptly named; the only thing he feared more than what swam beneath the murky depths was taking a swim in them.
"Why does something have to be wrong?" Valen answered without looking at him. His eyes were faraway, staring into the darkness in search of a horizon. "Can't I just sit here without a care, minding my own business?"
"No, Valen. You can't."
Valen ignored the jibe, continuing to stare into the darkness. Alain focused, opening his mind's eye, and saw that his aura was a mix of colors, peace and melancholy and suppressed anger and something else: wanting. Valen suddenly locked eyes with him, as if sensing the monk's gaze.
"You feel it too, don't you?"
"Feel what?" Alain asked, startled, the aura fading from view as his mind's eye closed shut.
"The calm before the storm," Valen explained, his tone similar to one used speaking to a very small child. "The silence before the final plunge. The tension, the excitement…the fear. Everything. It hangs over this camp like a pall," he said in closing, looking out at the river again.
"No," Alain lied, amazed at how quickly the tiefling had picked up on his trepidation… which even he hadn't been aware of. Valen let the mistruth pass, and Alain hurriedly changed the subject. He may not see auras like Trey or myself, but he's intuitive all the same. "How is the transition coming along in House Mae'vir?"
"Surprisingly well. I believe that unknowingly, we may have made Zesyrr's dreams come true."
"Zesyrr? Myrune's daughter? Why would you think that? We killed her mother!"
"Drow think of their family a little… differently than on the surface," Valen said with a slight smirk. He had forgotten that Alain was still fairly ignorant of Drow politics. "Zesyrr was more than ready to fill in her mother's shoes. Their family house was burned to the ground yesterday, so for the time being, she is staying at the common house."
Zesyrr, and many of her followers, had been at the burning house almost instantly. As Alain and Valen escaped the conflagration, the treacherous daughter was already sweeping through the ranks of Myrune's old company like a deadly wind, cutting down those who did not change allegiances quickly. The work was done quickly and with little bloodshed.
"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to attack as we did…" Alain said, musing. Their assault must have seemed like a knee-jerk reaction; they had gone in without a definite plan, only raw emotion. Alain wanted to see the face of the female who nearly killed his teacher, while Valen felt that dealing with the traitor was part of his duty as General. If there had been a battle plan, perhaps Myrune would not have escaped.
"What's done is done. No use dwelling on the could-haves. "
"Do you think Zesyrr will be more loyal than Myrune?"
"For a time," Valen said softly. They stared at into the darkness, a light breeze carrying the smells of the river blowing gently into their faces. It was a surprisingly peaceful moment… for the Underdark, at least. Alain felt a sudden, unexpected twinge of longing for fresh air and a blue, clear horizon in front of him. Then something below them, beneath the pier, croaked hoarsely and the moment was gone.
"What do you think happened to Myrune? Where did she go?"
"I do not know. But I wouldn't worry about her coming back. I am sure the sight of you rolling about the floor, covered in webbing is enough to haunt her dreams for a fortnight," Valen said, his face refusing to betray a smile. Alain chose to ignore the tiefling, and for a few moments there was more silence. Then, in a halting voice, Alain spoke again:
"How did you know… about the quiet?"
Valen didn't seem confused by the question, instead he seemed to have expected it. "You forget, perhaps, that I was once a warrior of the Abyss? I have felt this silence pressing down against me, like a second skin many times before. But the difference is that I relished the quiet, unlike the atmosphere here." He gestured to their surroundings, referring to the entire camp. "Here there is… fear." His eyes took on that faraway look, but this time there was another emotion as well.
Was it scorn? Alain thought it might be. Scorn, because there was no one here who felt the same way about battle as he did. There was no anticipation for the thrill of battle. Only nervous, potentially traitorous Drow and a frightened human.
He is a tiefling, you know. What if he loses his cool during this battle? Alain tried to imagine a berserk Valen, his eyes glowing red and his flail flying, set loose on the battlefield like a wolf among cattle, and found it all too easy. When his strength was controlled, Valen was both brutal and swift, usually ending the lives of his victims with a killing stroke to their head.
It's a possibility, a voice in his mind said quietly. But if you still have to worry about at this point… then you're in even worse trouble than you thought. Place your trust in your friends. After all, who else can you trust?
"It will happen today," Valen continued, and for a moment Alain was confused, lost in his own thoughts before he picked up the thread of conversation. Valen's normally vibrant blue eyes had taken on a strange, glazed look. A trickle of doubt trickled into Alain's mind despite himself. "There's still much left to do."
"Right," the monk agreed quietly. He got up and assumed a military stance, at attention. Anything to change that dead stare in his eyes. "What are your orders…General?"
"Tell Imloth to gather the troops, and have them meet me in the War Room. Double-time, private!"
Alain gave him a mock salute and proceeded to sprint away, heading for the archery ranges. Valen watched him go, a bemused smile on his face. A few minutes later, he stood up and walked along the pier, headed for the War Room.
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7:30 A.M., Camp of the Valsharess
"Need something, Jarluk?" Tenari drawled. The commander was sitting at his desk, polishing the sword that he had received the day before. Inwardly, Jarluk noted that ever since that delivery, every time he had seen the commander, he had been holding the sword. No, not just holding- obsessing. Even when he giving orders, he would, every so often, put a hand on the sheath, as if confirming that it was still there. Who would dare steal the commander's sword?
"We've just received a message from the Valsharess," Jarluk said, holding up a piece of parchment. "Do you want me to read it to you?"
"Just leave it here," Tenari said, waving a hand at mass of papers on his desk. "I'll read it myself. And gather the troops together- I'll be out shortly."
"As you say, sir," Jarluk replied meekly, putting the paper on the desk before almost running out of the tent. If he had a sense of unease around Tenari before, that feeling had deepened into fear over the last few days. He noticed a strange look in Tenari's eyes whenever he looked towards the direction of Lith My'athar, something like longing… or was it loathing? If a soldier running drills happened to make a mistake in his presence, woe to him. Even the infernal among the army maintained a respectful silence when in Tenari's presence. That was the most unnerving thing of all: what do you think of a Drow whom even devils respect?
Even if Drow were the type to open up their feelings to another, (which they were not) Jarluk had no one to express his concern to. The strangest behavior he had ever witnessed: Tenari's reaction to the blade, his expression when he talked about the humans… the remains of Myrune Jarluk had the misfortune of cleaning up- had always been when the two of them were alone. Tenari might be crazy, but if he was, it was a careful crazy. He could only challenge the commander's authority with a valid reason, and presently, he had nothing.
"I want the troops lined up in ten minutes. The commander wants to make a speech, and he doesn't approve of tardiness." Jarluk said brusquely to a swarthy Duergar captain who was overlooking several soldiers in a sparring exercise. Several of the dark dwarves, carrying maces and large brass shields, butted and crashed against each other, trying to knock their opponent down with sheer momentum. Both the Duergar and Drow battalions would make up the infantry, and it was essential that they be strong enough for the upcoming battle.
"Yeah, yeah," the Duergar agreed, absorbed in the exercise. When Jarluk put a hand on the hilt of his blade though, he became a little more agreeable. "Righ' then… That's enough, you grunts! Line up!"
Jarluk moved away to another group of soldiers, just past a tent holding captured goblin slaves. This regiment was being lead by a scarred Drow carrying a bow. Jarluk approached him, eyeing the rest of the archers.
The Drow archers were shooting at an upgraded archery range, of sorts. There were the standard man-sized targets lined up some distance away, with markers indicating where an archer would shoot next. However, the Valsharess' wizards had bewitched several other targets to float and weave in the air, presenting a flying target. The archers were equipped with customized bows. The bowstrings were very hard to pull back, yet Jarluk saw that nearly all of the archers could maintain a steady rate of fire.
"Line up, commander's making a speech," Jarluk said, looking at each of the soldiers in turn. Something was wrong. "Looks like you're four Drow short of a set here, captain."
"Yes sir," the archer captain said, saluting. "Four archers missing by my count. I was just going to send out our trackers…"
"Don't bother," Jarluk replied, cutting him off. "The Underdark wilderness is hungry this day, and I'm sure your troop knows how to hunt, don't they? Just be sure to inform me if they should return."
"Yes, sir!" The punishment for deserters was harsh, and Jarluk knew the archers would not return. How many arrows did they bring with them when they fled? If the answer was many, than they could survive for quite some time, fending off predators and eating what they could. If not… well, what difference could four bows make in an army? One thing was certain, though: if the archers decided to return to the camp, then they would soon wish they had starved to death than face Tenari's wrath.
Jarluk steeled himself as he approached the noisiest section of the camp. As he approached, there were fewer and fewer Drow and Duergar tents to pass. No one wanted to move any closer than necessary to the infernal: pit fiends, abishai, gelugon andother denizens of the Hells claimed this corner of the camp. They were moody, unpredictable and extremely dangerous. Early on, Tenari had forced the camp to rest inside of a hemmed-in canyon, which caused the devils to set up much closer to the others in the camp. Ten Drow were found the next to day, their heads twisted so grotesquely that they faced the opposite direction and their dark skin burnt to a crisp. Two others were never found. Tenari had promptly ordered the army to break camp until they found a wider space to rest.
None of the devils were even bothering to run drills for the upcoming battle; most were lounging about, with their raucous laughter booming over the entire camp. A few were even fighting with each other, wrestling on the ground over some imagined fault, no doubt. A pair ofblack abishai, their wings flapping,rolled in the dirt a few feet away from him, while several more stood in a loose semicircle, cheering the fighters on.
Nevertheless, for all of their savagery, the devils had rough sort of hierarchy that they adhered to. The commanding devil was a particularly largePit Fiendby the name of Liskhakth't, also called Grimtooth by many of his lot. His bony head was pocked and scarred with the marks of battle, and his sinewy skin bulged and rippled when he moved. Around his broad waist he wore a belt made from the teeth of his enemies, which included whoever he felt like killing at the moment. Several teeth were the size of Jarluk's head.
Devils respect strength, and Grimtooth had decided to rule by that creed. Anyone who disagreed with his orders could challenge his leadership, and fight for his title. So far, no one ever had.
Grimtooth, along with several other devils, were laughing and shouting in Abyssal as they watched a pack of hellhounds wrestle and snap at each other over something in the middle of their group. As Jarluk approached the group, one of the hounds broke free and ran back to Grimtooth happily, a Harpy skull in its mouth. TheFiend took the skull out of its mouth, giving the hound a companionable pat on the head. Jarluk could hardly believe what happened next.
The devil leader dexterously twirled the skull on one huge finger, which glowed a baleful red. When the skull stopped spinning, Jarluk saw that the harpy's flesh had been restored. More than that, its eyes bulged in its sockets and its mouth gaped in a silent scream. Somehow, the harpy's head was alive, even without its body. Just as he realized this, Grimtooth wound up and heaved the skull, throwing the skull far into the distance. The hounds went tearing after it, barking and nipping at each other.
This is what they do for fun? Jarluk thought, astonished and a little horrified in spite of himself. He had seen some terrible things, being a Drow; one of the worst punishments he had ever witnessed was when an unlucky servant had been forced to drink oil, then have his stomach sliced open and his intestines set on fire. That, at least, had been torture. It was at that moment that Grimtooth turned around, sensing his presence, and Jarluk struggled to regain his composure.
"Well, well… we've got a Drow in our midst, boys!" Grimtooth bellowed, and the devils behind him laughed heartily, surrounding him on all sides. A lesser Drow would have be scared stiff, with the smell of brimstone burning his nostrils and angry, blazing eyes on all sides, but Jarluk feared failure rather than the infernal. He stood firm, refusing to look at any of the other Fiends.
"Commander Tenari humbly requests your presence, Captain-," Jarluk hesitated for a moment, hoping he could say the name correctly. You had to be careful when dealing with Fiends. "…Liskhakth't. He wants to make a speech."
One of theother devils, a cornugon,snorted angrily, his nostrils flaring. "Why should we take orders from the grashkmit of some damned Drow? I say that we've just found a new ball, Liskhakth't." Jarluk could barely make out his words beneath the fiend's voice, which sounded like a roaring inferno and the screams of those trapped inside it. What he did hear didn't sound promising. He swallowed nervously, envisioning his own head being ripped to pieces by those hounds.
Before he had a chance to interject, though, Grimtooth leaned over and slapped the offending fiend, hard enough to knock the devil to the ground. The pit fiend snarled angrily, but did not rise.
"Shut your mouth, fool!" Grimtooth growled, before lapsing into Abyssal. Jarluk didn't understand their foul language, but Grimtooth gestured towards the direction of Tenari's tent and made a curious gesture, forking his middle and index fingers into the air and slashing them downward. Jarluk didn't know the significance of the gesture, but whatever it meant, it caused the pit fiend to stand up slowly, not making eye contact with his leader. Grimtooth turned back to Jarluk, and his tone was almost polite… or at least, a tone suppressing his full malice.
"Understood, Drow. We will be present and accounted for, on my honor." Jarluk nodded, turning his back on them quickly. Trusting in the honor of a devil seemed a little foolish, but under the circumstances, what more could he say? He was clearly not safe here.
What was that argument all about? Grimtooth's reaction to the pit fiend had seemed rather harsh, considering it was Tenari they were talking about. Was Grimtooth actually afraid of Tenari? Why would he be? And what did that gesture meand?
Nothing but questions, and each seemed stranger than the last. It only served to strengthen his vague feelings of fear about Tenari. After all, what kind of Drow could gain the mutual respect- and fear- of a Balor Lord? It wasn't natural, wasn't possible for any ordinary Drow, Jarluk decided.
Our commander's a devil in Drow form. His speed, his brutality, his odd behavior… there's no other explanation. Oh gods, what is going to happen to us?
Jarluk walked back to his commander's tent, believing that he had the truth figured out. He would never know how close he came.
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6:50 A.M., Lith My'athar Gates
Alain walked outsides the outer gates with a speculative eye. Sergeant Ossyr followed him, though he was looking out to the horizon than the gate. They didn't know when the attack would come, only that it would be soon. The young monk was taking the opportunity to make one last check of the defenses.
"What would you say is our weakest point of defense here, Ossyr?" Alain asked, staring at the gates as if mesmerized.
"Well, if there were a way to scale the walls, then we would be in serious trouble. Thankfully, in case of such an event, we have our wizards to cast a few Grease spells on the outside of the walls, in addition to the protective enchantments already cast. In a pinch, we could also use a few caltrops, too."
"Could these spells be dispelled?"
"Every spell can be dispelled, sir. However, we compensated for that by having every wizard available casting and re-casting the spells. That way, even if one of the protections is dispelled, we have a similar enchantment set in place behind it. By the time the enemy realizes this, our archers should have picked them off already."
"Very good. Is the pit we talked about ready yet?"
"We're still in the process of digging. I would give it another hour before it could be considered finished. Would you like to see it?"
Alain agreed, and the two stepped back through the outer gate. Just a few feet away from the gates was a deep hole, being dug by several Drow. It was circular in shape, and the sides were composed of smooth, unbroken stone, achieved by having several wizards cast Stoneskin on the soft earth. When the pit was completed, caltrops would be placed along the bottom and an illusion spell would be cast to make it appear that the mouth of the pit was nothing more than stone.
"I should be getting back. I might catch the end of Valen's speech. Let me know if anything happens, Ossyr," Alain said, before heading back towards the camp. Ossyr nodded, and went back to supervising the construction of the pit.
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6:40 A.M., War Room
The War Room was a large circular room, shaped like an upside-down bowl. In the past, before Balinyle of House Kat'elz began her rise to power, the room had been used as a chapel, a room where all of a Matron's vassals could be gathered together for mass worship to Lloth. The sculptures and portraits of the Spider Queen had been torn down, but the rows of chairs remained, making it a perfect auditorium.
Valen climbed up to the stage, looking into the crowds gathered there. The Drow looked back silently, their gleaming eyes a bit unsettling in the darkness. He didn't see Alain in the audience, but it didn't matter. Valen would say nothing that the monk had not heard already. Only he and Alain knew all of the intricacies of their battle strategy: what he would tell the Drow today would be an abbreviated version, just the facts.
"The day is upon us! You feel it too, do you not?" Valen began, speaking in a normal tone. His voice, though, magically magnified, carried out to the crowd, so that everyone could hear clearly.
None of the soldiers responded, but some nodded in answer, and a few looked at each other knowingly. Tactics first, or morale? Hmm… maybe it would be better to leave the fighting to their imagination.
Valen knew there were two factors a soldier must conquer in order to fight: his body, and his mind. The body, because an unfit soldier is the first to die in any battle, either from the enemy or his own mistakes. But more importantly, the mind: the wrong mindset can destroy a soldier as surely as any blade or spell. It was just a matter or redirecting their mindset, turning their thoughts from the odds to their own strength.
Several times throughout history, an army superior in equipment and numbers was ultimately defeated by a lesser force. What was the reason? Strategy played a role, but no amount of cunning can make up for so many glaring disadvantages. An army will always fight harder if they have something to protect, such as their home, or their lives. If a soldier received the same type of wound, the soldier on the winning side is more likely to survive than the soldier on the losing side. It came down to belief, the desire to win no matter the odds, born out of desperation or righteousness or both. (Trey and Delion, having just encountered vampires, would have undoubtedly agreed with him on the power of belief.)
"Before I begin, I thought you might want to know what we are up against," Valen said, with the air of one conferring a great favor. "Pit fiends, elementals, cornugons, hell hounds, vampires, bone golems, countless more Drow and Duergar… each group highly trained and better equipped than us."
The crowd was almost stubbornly silent, but Valen thought he could sense an undercurrent of despair just the same. Everyone knew that the enemy force was great, but having it explained so was a cause for fear. Yet, Valen knew that describing the enemy army was the right move. The mind fears the unknown.
"You all have seen me in battle, how I have kept us alive and on our feet as long as possible. Perhaps some of you wonder why we simply cannot retreat yet again, abandon the camp and slip into the darkness?" He let the silence spiral on, allowing the question to mull over in their minds for a bit. Then, he went on, "There will be no retreat here. There will be no more ducking and hiding. We will face them head on."
"Suicide," muttered a voice near the back of the auditorium, just loud enough for Valen to pick up. The voice, belonging to a shorter Drow with untrustworthy eyes, began to go on but was silenced by Valen's piercing glare. The damage had been done nonetheless. An almost imperceptible ripple went out across the assembly, an aftershock of doubt originating from the speaker's words.
"Consider this," Valen said, choosing not to address the speaker in the back of the room. "There is no power greater than the Valsharess at the moment. The most powerful Drow families, I am told, have either fallen or joined in her cause. The beasts of the Underdark rally behind her. Perhaps even some of you might have joined with her, because it seems as if her conquest has been nothing less than the will of the gods."
He paused, attempting to sense the general mood of his audience. Then, he went on, his voice rising. Now, he would have to change the hearts of countless Drow, to remove the instinct for self-preservation and replace it with belief.
"But I must ask you this: if the Valsharess is so powerful, that her enemies fall before her, and all other races flock to her… why are we still here, a rag-tag band of rebels beneath her notice? Why is it that she sends so large a force to deal with so small an opponent? Why has she attempted to assassinate the Seer, whose visions cannot directly harm her?"
Slowly, the disbelief turned to curiosity. The question had honestly never occurred to them before, but once said, it could not be taken back. Why? It was a valid question, and soldiers looked at Valen expectantly for the answer. They were not disappointed.
"Everything she's done up until now reveals her fear. Alain snuck in quietly from the back entrance, taking a seat near the back. Heartened by his presence, he pushed on, "Something is driving her on. Perhaps we have the blessing of a God and do not know it (at this, several followers of Eilistraee looked almost hopeful). If that is the case, the only way we could forsake that protection would be to choose the coward's way, and choose to retreat yet again. Down that path lies destruction."
Valen did not consider himself a bard of any type, and if asked, would have flatly denied any kind of skill he might have in public speaking. True, there were inaccuracies in his speech: if a God was watching over them, then they would have made themselves known by now. However, his audience was desperate and cornered, and therefore more prone to persuasion. What was the harm in believing that you were fighting with the power of a God at your back? Even the subjects of Mae'vir, who followed no specific god with Lloth gone, began to look more confident.
"We must fight, and we must win. If not to save others from the Valsharess' reign of terror, if not to avenge the fallen… then to save our own lives." Valen's eyes wandered over the crowd, trying to look into every face there, and what he saw encouraged. Gone was the look of grim acceptance, the expression of pigs before the slaughterhouse. What replaced it was dogged determination. They would not die without taking someone with them.
"We will take no prisoners, we will fight to the last man. We will win because we have to." Others would have been screaming and shouting at this point, working their men into a frenzy, but Valen's tone was quiet, conversational. Devils were often worked into a rage before their battle, and he did not like the comparison.
"That is all," Valen concluded. "Keep your weapons close, and be prepared. I may call you at any time of the day, and you must be vigilant.
The soldiers slowly left the War Room, Valen's speech concluded. Alain caught up to Valen outside of the building.
"Wow… never would have guessed you could string that many sentences together at one time," Alain joked.
"I didn't see you up there on the stage," Valen countered. "Or did a cobweb slow you down this time?"
"Ha-ha, you should have been a bard," said Alain sarcastically. "Really though, I think your speech did some good. From what I heard, and what I sensed, I think that the group is feeling a little more confident."
"I hope so. They have to be."
"Do you really think we're being watched over by a God?"
"Absolutely not. A devil, more likely."
They looked at each other seriously for a moment, then broke into laughter at the same time.
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8:00 A.M. Camp of the Valsharess
There was no tent big enough to hold the entirety of the camp in one place, so Tenari settled for speaking to the commanding officer of each individual regiment. From there, the captains could relay his message to their own men. Drow, Duergar, several Beholder, and a few Pit Fiends (standing at the back) stood at attention. Jarluk stood in the back of the crowd, to make sure that none of the captains were up to foolishness, as well as to get as far as he could from his superior. Tenari surveyed the group slowly, a disinterested look in his eyes.
"I've received a letter from the Valsharess today. She will soon be beginning her move to take the surface, and wishes to know why we are taking so long." Tenari said in a conversational tone, and he rolled his eyes mockingly. Several Drow smirked at this gesture, though in the back of their minds they wondered if the Valsharess could see what they were doing even now, and was planning a punishment for it.
"Today we will move to crush the rebels. Our intelligence tells us that two thirty-foot tall steel gates protect the camp, with a small courtyard in between. The gates will be protected with the usual enchantments, possibly more. Beyond the gates lies the camp proper, and the Seer, who the Valsharess wishes to be taken alive."
"The enemy force is small and ill-equipped. If they were under siege, then their supplies would not last them very long, two or three weeks at best. It's almost funny when you stop to think how they've stayed alive for so long. Perhaps Lloth supports them."
Tenari stopped, allowing several of the Drow to laugh at his ridiculous statement. It is something to think about, though. Why have they survived for so long? Besides that tiefling, there's nothing outstanding about these rebels. If this Seer does have visions, she could do nothing to affect them, good or ill.
For the first time in many years, a small seed of doubt sprouted in Tenari's mind. This whole situation was beginning to seem wrong to him… almost familiar. Leading this army reminded him of leading the raiding party on the Undermountain… how he had expected to kill those humans easily, and instead…
The monk's in that camp too… one of them, anyway, a voice said in his mind. And once you have one, the other is as good as caught. Yes, that was true… it did not matter if he had failed once. He had been given a second chance, and he would not fail again. The odds were clearly in their favor.
"The goblins will be at the front of the force, in small groups of six. Every sixth goblin will have destructive runes painted onto their skin, which can be activated at a word from our clerics. In this way, we should be able to deal some damage to those gates without risking any lives."
"Next comes the Duergar infantry, with Drow archers covering them. The infantry should be able to break in the doorway with little trouble, and the archers will protect them from any arrow fire from above."
"Simultaneously, we will have our wizards teleporting our infernal allies inside the gates, two by two. This will take some time to set up, as we need to overcome the barriers on the gate, but once they are broken, the attack will progress more quickly. The fiends should either open the outer gate if it's not destroyed yet, or begin to attack the second gate."
"Once the gates are destroyed, there will be nothing stopping us from flooding the city and capturing the Seer. Feel free to do as you please with any prisoners of war."
One Drow in the front raised his hand, and Tenari looked at him, a little annoyed at being interrupted. "What is it, soldier?"
"What about countermeasures, sir?"
"Ah, yes. According to the late Matron Myrune (Jarluk shivered, seeing the smirk creep onto Tenari's face as he said this), the enemy plans to make use of underground tunnels below the battlefield wired with explosives, as well as the ceiling above. Since the 'goblin-bombs' are at the front of the force, any explosion they create can be countered with ours. The infantry will then sweep in and finish off the survivors."
"And the ceiling? What do they plan to do there?"
"Next time you speak out of turn, I'll slit your throat and pull your tongue through so that it flaps out onto your chest. Are we clear?" Tenari's tone was calm, composed, betraying no sign of anger, yet Jarluk was afraid. He remembered the gaping wound in the dead Matron's stomach with crystalline clarity… the horrified expression on her face, even in death…
The soldier must have felt something as well. He nodded quickly and seemed to shrink a little in place, as if trying to shrivel up and disappear under the commander's gaze.
"As I was saying… There's not much we can do about the cavern ceiling: no one can fly up there without being shot down, and there's no telling when it will be set off, anyhow. What can I say… be careful!" Tenari stated, a devious grin on his face.
"Couldn't we…" one of the Drow in the back began, before blanching under Tenari's eyes, remembering his threat.
"No, go on. Humor me."
"Well," the Drow said slowly, trying vainly to keep his voice steady. "Couldn't one of our wizards just cast some protective spell, or something? One that deflects stone?"
"Why waste the time? Whoever doesn't have the sense to dodge deserves what they get! This is war, soldier. If you want to fight like a human, then why don't you go knock on the doorway of the Seer? I'm sure she would agree with your loving, 'safe' way of fighting," Tenari said harshly, amid gales of laughter. The humiliated Drow muttered something and looked at the ground.
"Once again, I must stress: the Seer is to be taken alive. Do whatever you want to the rest of those soft fools, but whoever so much as splits a hair from her head will be flayed for 24 hours. Then they will be handed over to the Valsharess to be used as a personal plaything for her pet devil. Understood?"
Most of the soldier nodded their assent, but Jarluk noticed several of the pit fiends grumbling under the breath. Did they take offense that their master was being held under the sway of the Valsharess?
"Pet devil…" growled a voice a few rows ahead of Jarluk, from the mouth of a particularly muscular pit fiend. "Well, perhaps… but M will make his move soon. Then we'll see…"
Jarluk was so busy contemplating the meaning of the pit fiend's statement that he didn't even hear the rest of Tenari's speech. It wasn't until one Duergar bumped into him on his way out that he realized what had happened.
M? That must be…"What's wrong, lieutenant?" Tenari asked at the mouth of the tent. "You're looking a little pale. Doesn't battle excite you?"
"It's… I heard…" Jarluk began, before he looked up into the laughing eyes of Tenari and closed his mouth again. It didn't seem prudent to explain his fears of a rebellion to a man whom even the devils seemed to respect… or fear. Some warning bell was going off inside his head, and it never paid to go against instinct. So Jarluk shook his head and asked a question instead.
"Sir… you don't plan to go into battle yourself, do you? There's no need for it. The men are more than capable of fighting themselves…"
"What, Jarluk, you think I'm not capable?" Tenari took a step forward, driving him back a step. His laughing eyes seemed to mock his own powerlessness. "Of course I do. Can't let the grunts do all the work. Especially if there's a chance…"
He trailed off, stepping out of the tent abruptly and looking in the direction of the rebel camp. Jarluk hesitantly followed him, each step took more courage than he expected. It was like swimming into deep water, where just about anything could swim up… and attack.
"A chance for what, sir?"
"Clear off, Jarluk, I'm tired of looking at your face," Tenari snarled without looking at him. "Be ready to move in an hour, I'm tired of waiting."
"Yessir," Jarluk said quickly, grateful for the reprieve, and started towards his own tent. When he chanced a glance over his shoulder, the commander had not moved. One of his hand was rubbing the hilt of his sword almost lovingly.
Tenari was mad, he was sure of that now. He would be the commander of the army only until the time of the battle, where the opportunity for his revenge against the human monk would arise. Jarluk wasn't sure where the human came into the situation, but he was sure that the commander would do anything to get to him, objectives be damned.
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9:04 A.M. Gates of Lith My'athar
Bong. Bong. Bong. The steady drumroll came from off in the distance, like the beating a giant human heart, or perhaps the ticking of an enormous clock. It seemed to be getting louder between each pause, as the enemy drew closer and closer to their position.
About half of all battle-ready Drow in Lith My'athar were gathered in the courtyard between the two gates. The second half had fallen back in the city, organizing a tight circle of defense around the Seer's lodgings. The enemy was crafty, and Valen knew that attack from the underground was a possibility. Cavallas had disappeared a few hours ago, and no one recalled seeing him leave. There was nothing they could do about that, though. The boatman knew nothing of their strategy even if he was treacherous.
"Archers, take your positions. Infantry, fall back," Valen ordered crisply, and the group obeyed with military swiftness. The archers took their posts at the top of the gate, their bows at the ready, while Drow swordmen grouped together loosely, in front of the inner gate. There was an empty semi-circle of space left in the courtyard, where Valen and Alain stood.
Two large mounds of black earth were piled on both sides of the courtyard, looking like the handiwork of several busy moles. The pit that Alain had asked for was complete, as well as several burrows a few feet away. In front of each hole was a line of sand mines, one behind the other.
The reason for the silence which filled the courtyard was not because of the approaching enemy, but because of the strange creature among them, who had appeared from nothingness and made not a sound. Algaricciragla surveyed them with his strange, shifting eyes for a long moment, and only the staunchest Drow could suppress a shiver under that alien gaze. Then, the construct walked to the nearest burrow and looked inside, then at the sane mind, inspecting. Alain slowly approached him.
This will work, the construct said, though Alain had no idea whether he was talking to himself or aloud. The golem rolled one of the mines back and forth experimentally, before pushing it into the hole and pressing the small button on the top. The spines engaged, jutting out into the dirt and holding it in place.
"I just wanted to thank you for your help, Algaricciragla," Alain said softly, trying to keep the other Drow from hearing his words. "I thought it would be best to say it now, before the battle begins."
Don't mistake my help for generosity, the golem rumbled, and several of the Drow flinched in surprise. Obviously, the construct wasn't used to speaking in a whisper. You friend has spared me, and I owe him a debt. If it wasn't for the chance to feed during the battle, I still might not have come.
"Aw, you just don't wanna admit that you like hanging around with us, right? I understand."
Algaricciragla growled without turning around, and Alain backed away from him slowly. "This is just great," he muttered to himself. "One ally lives for the battle while the other hungers for it." If war is hell, then we already have our demons. Valen I just might be able to handle, but if this golem gets out of control…
"What did you say?" asked a voice from behind him, and Alain whirled around, nearly crying out in shock. The speaker was Valen, who had sounded curious but didn't really look like it. An indecipherable expression was on his face, and Alain didn't know what to make of it.
"Ah, nothing. Just talking to myself."
BONG. BONG. BONG.
Valen nodded and turned back towards the gate, his eyes intent, yet cloudy. His flail hung loosely in his hand, the heavy metal head barely touching the stone. Alain gave him a furtive sideways glance, then caught himself and felt disgusted. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the irrational, lurking fear in his heart. The upcoming battle was bothering Valen… perhaps he was wrestling with his demonic instincts?
"You've heard of the Blood Wars, haven't you Alain?" Valen asked, his voice soft. His gaze never moved from the outer gate.
"A little bit about them, yes. The eternal war fought between devils and demons across the Planes, over some reason that no one remembers," Alain recited, recalling the words that some drunk bard had muttered a tavern he could no longer remember.
"I was drafted into them long ago, when I was a child. I lost myself in battle, killed without thought or care." Valen turned to look at him, and Alain noticed that his eyes were shifting color right before him, stuttering from red to blue to red again. "I know this isn't the time or place for trading life stories, but you need to know just in case…"
"In case of what?" Alain asked as Valen trailed off. The tiefling shook his head resolutely, turning to face the doorway again. "Valen, in case of what!"
"In case I don't recognize you on the battlefield," Valen said, just as the beating of the drums sped up, quickening to a maddening pace. From far off, the cries of the slaves being urged forward and the harsher shouts of the infernal could be heard.
"The enemy is close, sir!" one of the archers atop the battlements shouted down to him. That's not what I want to hear right now… Not when I have this going on! There was no time for further conversation, though. Valen was already giving orders to the Drow behind them.
"Start, Algaricciragla!" Alain cried, though his thoughts were elsewhere. Trey, where are you?
The golem obeyed, raising both of his large hands high over his head and balling them into fists as he stood over the first sand mine. Then he swung downward in a double hammer blow, which sent the mine rocketing into the earth at a high speed.
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9:05 A.M. Outside of Lith My'athar
The army of the Valsharess was on the move, and the camp of the Seer was before them. All that stood in their way were the gates.
"Can't those slaves move any faster?" Tenari shouted to one of the Drow captains, his eyes searching the ground ahead and the ceiling above constantly. The Drow responded by dealing a few goblin slaves a savage lash with his whip, forcing the slaves on towards the camp. One of the goblins was painted head to toe in a strange pattern of letters and symbols that Tenari did not understand.
There it is, Tenari thought, spotting a slight indentation in the ground ahead. As he turned to shout a warning to those behind him though, a golden blur shot out from the tunnel unexpectedly. The commander was shocked by its appearance but still possessed enough of his reflexes to throw himself out of the way, and the golden bullet shot past him into the air.
What the hell was- Tenari had time to think before the sphere detonated in midair, erupting in a light so powerful that even facing the ground, his eyes smarted from the glimmer of light reflecting off of the quartz in the stone. A moment later, an incredibly loud humming sound filled the air, forcing him to clap his hands over his sensitive ears and clench his teeth. Pain so fierce that it seemed his head would explode gripped him, and the cacophony of noise around him ceased, replaced with a ringing in his ears. Thankfully, the ringing stopped, and he climbed to his feet, confused and a little frightened.
Tenari seized a cowering Duergar by the collar and pulled him to his feet, giving him a little shake. "What just happened!" he screamed into the soldier's face.
"WHAT!"
Deaf, Tenari thought bitterly, releasing the Duergar and pointing him towards the gate. The Duergar obeyed his command, though he went with a puzzled look on his face. He had looked as befuddled as Tenari felt. What the hell just happened here? Myrune said nothing about that.
Any vague hopes that the attack had been a fluke soon disappeared when a few feet away, another golden sphere burst from the earth, flying directly into the torso of an unfortunate Drow archer and ripping him to pieces. The spheres ricocheted away, coming to rest near the marching files of several pit fiends, before exploding. Tenari covered his eyes quickly, anticipating its effect, but instead of giving off light, the globe left behind a misty cloud of glittering droplets.
Tenari ran towards the cloud, already suspicious, but he was too slow. Several of the droplets came to rest on the skin of the devils, and almost immediately, began to sizzle and burn. The affected began to scream in anguish, furiously raking their burning skin with their claws, but the water only seemed to work itself in like acid, eating away at the flesh and bone of the devils. One of the Hell Hounds wandered into the cloud, and was immediately seized with a sneezing fit, first expelling mucus from his nostrils, then blood.
Some of the mist landed on his skin, and he tried to wipe the water away with the sleeve of his armor, frantic. That method proved no effective than the devils', but the water only irritated his skin, causing him to itch and leaving a slight redness behind. That only confirmed his suspicions: Holy water! Damn you Myrune!
At once, the scales from his eyes fell away and he could see in his mind's eye the extent of his enemy's trickery. The Seer had been aware of Myrune's treason and had used her to pass on false information to their foe. She had been right about the tunnels, but she had had no idea what was truly stored inside them. If only he had known…
"Those tunnels!" Tenari shouted, seizing the forearm of one of the few Pit Fiends unharmed and pointing to the original point of the golden sphere. "Destroy those tunnels, and do it quickly! Never mind what's inside!"
The pit fiend growled, jerking his arm away from the Drow, but moved to obey him nevertheless. He slapped the earth in front of him hard with his mace, collapsing the tunnel. Just as wet earth blocked the entrance of the burrow, however, another sphere crashed into the barrier. Blocked by the stone, the mine could not exit the tunnel, but instead, exploded immediately. There was an explosion of dazzling light that seared Tenari's eyes, and he fell backward.
There was no way to see the chunk of rock blown free from the blast come hurtling into him, knocking him unconscious almost instantly.
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11:56 A.M. Beyond the Battlefield
"What do you see?" Delion called, directing his voice to the top of the outcropping of rock that Trey had climbed atop of. The purpose was for Trey to get a better view, and to judge how far away from the camp they were, but the monk had not responded, only stood still, looking off into the distance. Reluctant to call out again, lest there were predators about, Delion began to scale the rock face himself.
They had been moving at a fast pace all day, walking as far as they could before exhaustion and hunger forced them to stop. The Underdark wilderness was no nature hike, and travelers needed to be aware of both their surroundings and the time of day. Certain predators came out at certain times of the day. The two had argued for five long minutes over whether to pass through a small cave, which Delion believed was full of Drider, or take a longer route. In the end, Delion had triumphed, though Trey grudgingly admitted that he had seen the dried husk of a Drider shell a few feet away from the entrance.
That was worrisome- that the monk, who was usually thoughtful and deliberate, would take such risks in a place he knew nothing about. Granted, he was glad that Trey had such faith in their abilities, but there was something more than just Lith My'athar that Trey was worrying about.
When Delion had questioned him about this, Trey had deflected his inquiries from the start. But, as the distance to the camp of the Seer lessened and the wilderness became rougher to navigate, he began to explain. His student and companion, a human named Alain, was on his own at Lith My'athar, doing his best to aid the Seer just as they had done.
"He's not a baby," Delion had reasoned, trying to comfort Trey, or at least to dim that anxious look in his eyes. "I'm sure he's doing fine without you."
"I don't doubt that. It's just a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach… Things are happening too fast!" With that, Trey redoubled his speed, disappearing around the next bend, and Tenari hurried to follow him. What had he meant? Did the monk receive some kind of premonition about the battle, and was now rushing to prevent it? Trey refused to say more, and Delion did not press him.
Now, as he clambered atop the rock formation, looking in the same direction as Trey, he could understand perfectly. The army of the Valsharess was here: swarming over the field like a mass of angry antlions. Yet, to his surprise…
"Do you see it?" Trey asked, and Delion nodded disconnectedly. Here and there across the field, the bodies of Drow, Duergar, and Balors lay strewn in piles. Delion could not make out the nature of their injuries, but he did notice that most of the skin on the devils had melted away, from some corrosive substance. He did not see the markings of the Seer's emblem on any of the bodies, so how could such damage have been done, if not by acid?
"I don't know how they've done it, but somehow they were able to hurt them even from inside the gates," Trey said slowly. "There…" he pointed at one of the mounds of carcasses on the east side- "there…" now he pointed to the dead bodies in the middle of the field- "and there," he pointed to bodies on the west side. "These attacks look coordinated, don't they?"
"Yes," Delion had to agree with that logic. "And the city has not fallen yet. There is still time." The first gate had fallen, had been reduced to smoldering wreckage, and for some reason, the corpses of goblins were numerous in that area, their limbs strewn all about. It was common to use slaves as fodder in war, but in a siege, there was little use for this tactic, as the defender could easily pick out Drow from goblin.
"Look," Delion instructed, pointing. "The second gate is stronger, and still in good shape. The Seer and her followers will be safe for a bit longer. Even when the gate does fall, they still have to go through our forces to come into the tent proper."
"Right then. We need to get down there quickly, so we can help them," Trey said, beginning to climb back down the cliff face. Almost here…
"No!"
"What is it!" Trey cried, fearing bad news. Had the gate fallen? But instead of looking at the field, Delion was staring at him with an exasperated expression on his face.
"Think clearly, Trey. What do you expect to do- come charging to their rescue? We have no resources, and no way to fight an army effectively. That won't work."
"What do you expect me to do- stand here and watch as the Valsharess' troops set fire to the city?"
"No," Delion replied patiently, "there's something else we can do. We're in the perfect position to act- undetected and behind enemy lines. Think of the damage we could do!"
Trey ceased his downward climb, thinking over Delion's words. "You're right- the enemy wouldn't expect an attack from behind. If we can take out their chain of command, then the army will lose direction."
"Cut off the head, and what use is the body," Delion explained, finishing the monk's thought. "We have to trust in the Seer, and help them the best we can here."
"Thank you, Delion," Trey replied, his voice weary. Suddenly, he sagged forward, the light in his eyes leaving him, looking like an old man. Delion became abruptly aware of the amount of white hairs in his stubble, and the sweat on his face. Just how old was this human? He had never asked.
"How are we going to penetrate the lines, though?" Trey asked, a desperate note creeping into his voice. "Even if most of the army is up ahead, they must have some guard left behind. How can we get in unseen?"
"We have to find a way, Trey. We've come this far- I won't let it end here." Delion said, trying to encourage him, hoping to see that same determination Trey had possessed in Drearing Deep. He offered his hand to the monk, who was halfway down the slope. "Are you with me?"
"I'm with you," Trey said, taking his hand and allowing a smile to fill his features. Delion pulled him back onto the top of the cliff, and he stood up. "As we surfacers like to say, where there's a will, there's a way."
"There is a way," said a gentle voice from behind him. Delion's eyes widened as he focused on the figure behind Trey, and even as the monk turned, he heard the Drow's stunned voice:
"Lavoera!"
A/N: The attack will be shown from the defenders perspective next chapter, during those two hours that you didn't see, so just sit tight.
Merry (belated) Christmas!