A/N: Whew! Sorry, I'm not dead. Inspiration took a vacation, leaving me high and dry. Eventually, she came back.

Also, I'm going to try and write smaller chapters, with more frequent updates. Hopefully, that will make sure such a long delay doesn't happen again. Enjoy, and sorry for the wait, those that care.

Chapter 19

10:00 A.M. Camp of the Seer

The bombardment had stopped, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. If this was a ploy by the enemy to lure them into a false sense of security, then it was ill-timed. Not a single person behind the gates of the Seer's camp was naïve enough to believe that the barrage of sand-mines had defeated their enemy. Slowed them down, yes, perhaps crippled them.

"Good job, Algaricciragla. Thank you for your help," Alain said gratefully, but the golem made no indication that he had heard the human's words. That was alright. Perhaps he wasn't used to receiving praise for killing- what he had been required to do in the Maker's service and what had become necessary for him to exist after leaving the Maker.

The quiet was soon dispelled by the far-off sounds of a flapping or slapping noise. Several of the Drow warriors looked at each other in confusion, but Valen stiffened, his eyes wide and his stance tense. One of the archers from atop the wall looked down at him, his mouth agape.

"General, I think you should see this," the bowman whispered, his voice barely audible. Valen didn't ask for an explanation and hurried to the tower, taking the stairs up two at a time. Alain followed behind him, concerned.

"There," the archer whispered, his face as pale as parchment as he pointed towards a group of creatures among the scattered ranks of the approaching army. The battlefield was in shambles from the explosions and numerous effects of the sand mines. From such a great distance, the group that the archer had pointed at looked like tiny black ants, steadily growing larger as they approached. There was one major difference this enemy had from ants, however.

These creatures could fly.

"Are they some kind of gargoyle?" Alain asked. For the creatures seemed to have large, greasy-looking wings which slapped at the air steadily, propelling them upwards. Each one seemed to be holding some sort of pronged weapon, but the distance was too great for further detail.

"I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps they are Drow, empowered by some magic that gifts them with the ability to fly…"

"They are abishai, not Drow. Baatezu," Valen said, his voice quiet and faraway, yet at the same time, edged with…hunger? Perhaps he was reflecting on his past encounters with them, bloody conquests that took place so many Planes away. Alain didn't care. A dull pain had began to throb in the pit of his stomach, and he blamed Valen for it. The tiefling had fought in other battles for the Seer- why was this the one that would drive him over the edge?

"There are five ranks of abishai, separated by color," the tiefling recited. "They serve the goddess Tiamat, and act as wardens and tormentors of the first two layers of Baator. It's not surprising to see them here on the field- they were most likely drafted for the purpose of attacking from above."

"So then we're at their mercy? We have to find a way to get them out of the air!" Alain cried, a little angry at how calm Valen sounded. He had never considered the possibility of an enemy with flight, and his tactics reflected that. Had he known, perhaps he could have concentrated the barrage of mines on them first… Cripple their airborne capabilities…

"Relax, Alain. All is not lost," Valen said smoothly, taking control of the situation. Still, his voice had not lost their quality of hunger. Somewhere within him, there was a growing lust for battle, blooming in size every second until it threatened to overwhelm him. "Captain- direct your archers to concentrate fire on the abishai. Aim for fleshy underside of their wings, not their heads."

The captain quickly saluted and began shouting out orders in Drow, beginning to walk along the parapet. Valen didn't halt to watch the effects of his command, instead returning back to the courtyard via the staircase, Alain at his heels. Calling one of the mages over to him, he quickly laid out a new plan of attack: to alternate airborne spells with ground-based ones, switching between the approaching abishai and Drow infantry.

"Sir!" A Drow scout appeared at Alain's elbow, his face flushed and his eyes wide and staring. Though his armor was unmarred, the expression on his face hinted at a more subtle scar. What kind of creatures had he seen? "The enemy is within sixty yards of the outer gate? Shall we fall back to the inner courtyard?"

"No. We gave them an inch, and they took a mile. That's how we got ourselves into this position." Valen's voice rose as the anxious Drow warriors, following both the Seer and Zesyrr, formed a loose semi-circle around him. Alain had no idea what the tiefling was up to- but he understood that it was a show of sorts, put on for the benefit of the Drow.

"We shall not run, we will stand fast. This ends today, here and now, and every one of you will play a part." Valen looked around, seeming to meet the eye of every single fighter in the group. All was silent in the courtyard, a genuine crystalline moment. "When those gates open, it shall be we who come through, not they who charge forward. Follow me onward, to freedom or death… the outcome depends on you."

"You must be joking, Valen," Alain said, trying to act as the voice of reason. Raising morale was one thing, but a suicidal attack was quite another. What was he thinking? "We need to concern ourselves with the abishai! We should fall back, try to come up with a plan…"

"I'll leave the planning to those who will stay behind! Just leave the fighting to those who will step up," Valen retorted, and even with his back facing him, Alain could sense the glare that must be in his eyes. Just that quickly, he had been dismissed- by Valen, and by nearly all of the Drow in the courtyard. Something was happening. Slowing his breathing, Alain focused, allowing his mind's eye to open. Gradually, the colors in the world drained away like water in a sieve. The Drow's dark skin color faded to grey. The smoldering torches stationed around the area, composed of flickering blue and orange, shifted to black and white.

New colors took their place in the form of auras, a frame of shifting light surrounding each and every person in the courtyard. And there were so many- it nearly dazzled him, to see so many auras shifting and dancing like a pyrotechnic lightshow. Valen's aura was bright orange-red, intermittently growing and shrinking every few seconds. From what he had seen before, Alain guessed that the bright red in his aura represented his demonic impulses, versus the lighter colors of his human mind. There was scarcely any blue in his aura now…

That wasn't all. The rebel army contained a great variety of colors, each emotion ranging from fear, hesitation, and anxiety to anger, bloodlust, and false bravado. Trey had once said that all auras have a current. New emotions flow in while others are expelled. In a group, auras can affect another, even if the organism is unaware of it. Compare it to the tides- the ebb and flow of life.

Alain hadn't understood at the time- seeing auras didn't come easily to him. Ki had to be channeled upwards, towards the optic nerve endings in the eyes. He wasn't always successful with such careful manipulation over the aural energy. Now, he could see the currents Trey had spoken of. It was as if there was a constantly shifting cloud of pure energy over them all, always shifting and reforming and fading, bright with color yet insubstantial to the touch. It was made up of Ki- Alain could see bright threads of energy flow away from the aura of the Drow, and joining with Valen's aura. Yet, at the same time, the tiefling's aura flowed out, feeding the Drow's aura in a continuous cycle. What did it all mean?

That same phenomenon occurs in many different ways, Alain would think later. A bard telling a harrowing tale in a crowded Inn- a group of men watching a fight start in a sleepy tavern- a musician on the streets performing for passerby. Their auras would have the same "feel" of give-and-take, drawing from one another's emotions and feelings without even knowing it. And then: What is Valen feeling?

As Alain snapped out of his reverie, Valen abruptly turned his back onhim and walked over to the front gates. Gesturing to the gate-keepers on the wall above, Valen turned around once more, facing the group of soldiers. As the gates slowly opened to the approaching horde, the tiefling pulled his flail from his belt. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, his face hard. His eyes seemed to glow faintly.

"There's a group of abishai coming this way, bent on killing us all. They'll enjoy, and they have wings. I know how to kill them. Who will follow me?"

At first no one moved, and Alain thought that for all that talk, all those auras, that the Drow thought Valen a madman for wanting to charge into the field. Hoped for it, in fact. Then, several Drow moved forward, their faces set. Alain saw that most of the group were Zesyrr's men, while those staying behind were followers of Eilistraee, looking disgruntled. Valen seemed to take in the faces of the Drow with one look, and nodded.

"Let's go."

Valen was already issuing orders as they charged into the field. Drow archers took aim at their flying foes, while the infantry unsheathed their weapons, looking both nervous and thrilled. Numbly, the young monk watched them go. Nervous, but excited as hell. Is that what all men look like- right before they head to their death? What do we do now?

You know what to do, a voice in his brain said. It was Trey's voice, the one in his head, which always spoke up when he was feeling overwhelmed. He hadn't heard his teacher's voice in so long that it almost made him jump now. Yet, even the comforting "sound of the voice didn't serve to help him now.

You have to follow him, if he is your friend, Trey explained patiently. You know what he will do. Right now, he is barely containing himself…out there, once blood is spilled…

Yes, Alain thought. That was right. If Valen was not his friend, then it didn't matter anyway. Through battle, they had forged a connection, the Ki-link. They had risked their lives together, and if nothing else, Alain was determined to help Valen keep his, if only for a little while longer. How do I do it?

The answer seemed to be staring him in the face. Valen, through persuasion or sheer will, had convinced a group of soldiers to face down Death. Alain would have to do the same. Slowly, purposely, the monk approached the followers of Eilistraee. Most of the warriors had gone with Valen- leaving many spellcasters and archers behind. They were ashamed of their "cowardice" and most refused to look at him.. Alain cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I- I'm not your general. I'm not the Seer, I'm not even Drow. But at this moment, we are all the same. Connected at the moment. Survival is on our minds. There are great forces swirling around, focused on destroying us here- and with that, your faith, and all you stand for. The Seer will be captured, interrogated, paraded through the streets, and who knows what else." Judging from their eyes, Alain saw that they very well could imagine "what else" would be.

The words seemed to be coming easier now, flowing like water from some untapped well deep within. "They say that those with faith need not fear- their God will protect them from evil. Though I follow no deity, I have found this saying to be true- but not without some action on our part. The odds are immense, yes, but if you trust in Eilistraee at all, and you follow me into the storm, then we can pull through. Do you believe this?"

Now he had their attention at least, by invoking the name of their Goddess. Still, he couldn't "see" it- the look that the Drow following Valen had in their eyes right before they left. They still doubt, that must change. And still another voice in his head, telling him to mind the time, mind the time…

"We're no warriors!" One wizard towards the back shouted. His cry seemed to surprise the group of Drow, as if they were in a deep sleep. "There's an entire army out there with enough weapons to take the surface, not to much the thrice-damned infernal! We don't stand a chance against them!"

"I'm no warrior either- have you ever seen me hold a weapon?" Alain replied, ignoring the muttering among the crowd. He held up his bare hands, making fists. "All I've ever used is what I've been given. But I can tell you as a fact- I've sparred with your General, and won. Would you say that I stand a chance?" There was no answer, but Alain read astonishment in his eyes- no disbelief. He went on as if he had gotten his answer.

"Valen is doing is best to save the Seer, your leader. Our job will be to save Valen. He may or may not be successful in luring those Abishai- but there's no way he can return once the main force of the Valsharess catches up with them. Whatever you're fighting for- whether it is for freedom, for your cause, for the Seer, for yourselves, or for your lives- now is the time to stand up for them."

The silence seemed very loud, drowning out the screams of fury and pain of the battlefield, and the more subtle scent of desperation exuded from the very pores of the rebel camp.

"Will you follow?"

There was no answer, and yet that was all he needed. Their faces were grim, and all of a sudden, Alain could feel it- that spark, the connection. If he could have opened his mind's eye, the eye that always saw the world in true color, then he knew what he would have seen now.

"We'll move as quick as we can to catch up to Valen. Once we get there, I want all archers to concentrate on shooting down all airborne Abishai. Once they're on the ground, we can leave them to the warriors. If needed, I want the mages to enhance your arrows to make them strong enough to punch through their wings."

The archers immediately complied, checking their quivers for ammunition and bows for any flaws. A few mages made preliminary hand motions, beginning to enchant the weapons as best they could.

"While the archers and warriors deal with the abishai, I'll take all available mages with me in order to run interference. We need all wide-area spells to lay waste to the field. Keep them off of us! Once you run out of this, switch to using enchantment and illusion spells. Hopefully by then, the abishai threat will be neutralized."

Alain took a breath, stopping to try and meet as many of their eyes as possible. Then, "Let's get moving. We have a lot of ground to cover, and Valen's ahead of us. Stay close." As he jogged towards the front gate, he could overhear several of the Drow muttering prayers to Eilistraee. The cold truth hit him then: I could die here.

Trey's voice again. So could anyone. The most important thing to ask is this: can you die satisfied, knowing the cause?

Alain slowed for a half-second. To the Drow behind him, it might have looked like he stumbled over a loose rock, but in that moment of hesitation, the enormity of the actions caught up with him. Was it really only a few months ago that he had envied Trey for being the subject of every bard whenever the subject of Undrentide came up?

You can keep the fame. It was never about that. It was about the choice, and coming to terms with it.

Alain passed through the gates into Hell, but his mind was at peace.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Humans are animals. They hide it well, with their tall buildings of stone and steel, with their art and their letters and their education, with their codes of etiquette and honor. If you could strip it all away, tear the thin fabric of civilization off of society, what would be left? Could you look at it without blinking, at the snarling beast that is pure instinct that acts unfettered of emotion such as pity and mercy?

Perhaps that is their strength, to be able to restrain the animal inside them all with the handcuffs of civility and society. Or perhaps that is their weakness, to deny their true nature, to cover up the purest part of their soul under the weight of self-control.

What do you think?

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

The first sign was always some base desire, some inner hunger that manifested itself from nothingness and demanded to be satiated. Sometimes, it was blind lust that awakened in him, seemingly for no reason at all, no matter the species of the female. Most of the time, though, it was a call for violence: a need to strike out at anyone and anything, a need to feel bones snap and blood spill at his hands.

Valen found he could separate his life into two categories: there was life before the Seer, and life afterward. There was blood and darkness and…impulses, in life before the Seer, but he had tried his best to block that out, to forget.

The abishai were numerous, foul creatures holding polearms. As Valen and his group drew near, the air seemed to be filled with the sound of their flap-flap-flapping wings, their screeching cries as they jostled each other midair. They descended at once upon the group, even though it would have been smarter to ignore the warriors and continue on. If Valen had been their commander, he would have slapped a hand to his forehead in annoyance. Perhaps they landed because of the confusion the sandmines had caused… or perhaps it was because they too, felt that same desire as him.

Whatever the reason, they came, and all the doubts and fears and musings were swept away in a sea of aggression. That in itself was worrying. Fighting with emotion was widely known as a bad move for any warrior, and Valen had made fighting calm one of his tenets in his life after the Seer. Now… he couldn't help himself. It was worrying.

"Attack!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, but his order seemed to fall flat, swallowed up in the sound of beating air. It didn't matter anyhow, the only option was to attack. A leering abishai, its long crooked snout bared in a snarl, jabbed a long spear at him. Valen parried the blow, smacking the spear head away with his flail. Not to be outdone, the abishai reversed momentum suddenly, swinging the end of the spear at his head. Valen crouched just in time to avoid being brained, then sprang backwards to dodge the devil's flailing tail. With the abishai's back to him, he wasted no time in taking the opportunity. His flail lashed out, swung from his shoulders, and crashed into the creature's rock-like skull.

He didn't stop to see the flash of red across the ground as the abishai's brain tissue spilled out like spoiled milk, he was already turning, moving to deal with the next threat, and the next. The abishai were numerous, but not the most skilled of opponents, being used to dealing unrepentant sinners and shades on their own Plane.

ZZIT!

There was a sudden thud behind him, and Valen turned immediately, painfully aware of his vulnerable blind spot. On the ground in front of him lay a particularly large Abishai holding a trident. An arrow poked through each of his wings, the head still glowing with magical energy. The tiefling didn't spare the devil another look, before bringing his flail squarely on top of its skull. Where did-

"Archers, fan out, catch them in the crossfire! Mages, with me!"

Valen's eyes widened in shock. He followed me out here? What is he thinking?

"Alain! ALAIN!" Valen roared, leaping over the carcass of a slain Drow. Too late. By the time he had fought his way out of the crowd of fighting Drow and demons, Alain was gone, backed up by a group of mages. A few moments later, he could hear the crash of explosions and magic from further north.

"Damn." He could feel everything pressing down on him- the heat of his armor, the sounds of the fighting, even the very air seemed to weigh him down. It was just too much. I can't fall to pieces now. I'll just have to trust that he does his side of the work as I do mine. Just have to keep it together…

He turned and charged back into the fray, his face composed but his heart disturbed.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Near the Drow Camp

Lavoera smiled, seeing the stunned expressions on their faces. Yet, it wasn't Lavoera in the flesh- she was covered in an unearthly green light that seemed to radiate from her skin, and Trey saw that she gave off no aura.

"Lavoera? Are you…" Trey's words trailed off, afraid to speak the worst aloud. The deva smiled and shook her head, guessing his words.

"I'm fine, my friends, safe and speaking to you from my home Plane. My superiors were pleased to see me return, even though I told them I could not find the person whom I was supposed to deliver the message." Lavoera shrugged, her calm face shifting to one of bewilderment. The expression was so perfectly… Lavoera that Delion felt like laughing aloud, his cares forgotten.

"So, they're allowing me to contact you, to help you. I have to say, after meeting you in the temple of vampires, I didn't expect you to make looking for trouble a habit. Willfully wandering into a war-zone- that must be fun!" Lavoera's face lit up, sincerely believing that such an act must truly be as wonderful as she thought.

"It's not like that Lavoera. I have to help, have to cross this field somehow." Trey quickly outlined their current situation as best as he could. They had climbed down from the slope overlooking the battle, and were standing beneath the shelter of a cliff. Further north, the battle raged on, and Delion could dimly hear the shrieks of demons.

There was enough new information to keep Delion interested, and Lavoera listened attentively. When he was finished, Lavoera's brow furrowed, thinking hard. Then, she brightened, snapping her fingers.

"I have just the spell!" Lavoera stepped forward, and placed a hand atop their heads. Under her breath, the deva began to chant words in another language. Delion, whose hearing was more refined, did not understand what she was saying, but it seemed to make his ears burn.

Simultaneously, both men felt a freezing sensation at the base of their feet and a gentle warmth on the top of their heads, where Lavoera was touching. The feeling slowly spread across their bodies, until they met in the abdomen, creating a sort of balance. Lavoera removed her hands then, satisfied.

"That spell should keep you safe from prying eyes, and allow you to move silently. No one can see you unless you wish to be seen. There is, however, a catch involved."

"What's the catch?" Trey asked, fearing the worst.

"Nothing to be worried about," Lavoera said reassuringly. "Like most divine spells, this is based off of faith. As long as you believe you are invisible, you are. If your belief wavers, though, the spell's effect is lost. You can understand how much concentration this would require."

"But, I don't follow any deity," Trey protested. "How..?"

"That doesn't matter. All you need is faith, and I can tell that your method of fighting requires plenty of belief- in yourself. As for Delion…"

"Don't worry about me. I'll believe in you," Delion said, before hastily adding, "that your, uh, spell is strong enough." Trey had never heard Delion sound flustered before, the Drow was usually very collected. Now, he saw that Delion was struggling to keep a straight face. I wonder…

Lavoera smiled, her face almost identical to Delion's. "..Yes, that should keep you protected."

Interesting, but still…no time for this. Do what you have to do.

"Lavoera, I don't know you developed such a good sense of timing, but…thank you for your help."

"Yes, time is of the essence," Lavoera said, turning to Trey. "I don't understand everything that's going on- not from where I'm standing- but I can sense a great shadow, and impending sadness. Still, nothing is set in stone. Go while you can."

Trey nodded, and Lavoera began to fade from view. The green light was growing dimmer, like the light from a candle as the wax runs low.

"Until we meet again…stay safe!" Then, she was gone. Trey turned to Delion, his expression speculative.

"Did you honestly expect to see her again?"

"Truthfully, no," Delion admitted. "In the Underdark, good-byes are usually final. Now, though…what would have happened if she hadn't come when she did?"

"I don't want to think about it. You shouldn't either." Trey turned his attention back towards the battlefield. Time waits for no man, some sage had once claimed. The monk set off at a jog towards the Drow camp, hoping in his heart that Lavoera hadn't made a mistake. There was only one way to find out.

They kept at a steady pace until they drew near the camp. A large boulder jutted from the earth, providing a perfect cover, and Trey drew up against it. Lavoera's spell might grant invisibility, but she hadn't said anything about sound.

"Delion," Trey said, meeting the Drow's eyes.

"Hm?"

"You have more experience with stealth, and you can recognize the higher ranking officers, can't you? I think it would be best if you sought them out."

There was more to say: assassinate them. It didn't matter. Delion understood at once and nodded. "Yes, that would be best, I think. I have more experience with those matters. What will you do?"

"If they hope to breach those gates, they must have brought some explosives with them. I'm going to find a way to set them off. That, along with the confusion in the attack on the chain of command, might give the Seer a chance."

"But how will you know how to work the detonator? Are you familiar with Drow equipment?"

"If I can't figure it out myself, then I'll find a way. Don't worry about me."

"Alright then. Let's get moving," Delion said, but in his heart, he hesitated. You saw how he was- who's to say he doesn't leave you here and head straight for the gate? It's possible- he could do it, certainly. Who's to say he doesn't abandon you here?

What saved him from doubt, and ultimately, death, was a proverb concerning war.

War must be waged within the mind before one can hope to fight without. Doubt is ten times more deadly than any blade, any spell.