Chapter Six
Flight Through the Wilds
1485 DR / Day 4
Time can be a difficult thing in a land without sun. But to those native to the Underdark, that was simply the way of life. Passing days were gauged by spurts of long rest unless there was specific means of measuring time, such as the great clocktower Narbondel in Menzoberranzan. Velkynvelve's escaped prisoners had no such luxury. For untold days to come, they would find themselves far from the comforts and ingenuity of civilization.
Fraeya rose from her reverie and began waking the others. She was eager to move on. A rock had dug into her back all night. And more importantly, any hope of distance that they had gained from their pursuit the day before could be cut short in an instant. For drow elves, like their surface counterparts, fell into a dreamless trance during rest instead of deep sleep. What might take a human eight hours or more, an elf could benefit from in half that. In short, Ilvara and her hunting party had every advantage. And the fleeing prisoners, who had only two true elves among them, had everything to lose.
Kazimir felt quite uneasy upon waking. While he had experienced the same ominous nightmares that had plagued him since he first found himself in the Underdark, one was different. Vivid and sharp, the wizard had seen himself, Zelyra, and Stool huddled upon a pile of rubble. When Sarith suddenly rushed them with his crossbow drawn, Zelyra threw up her shield to defend them from the attack. And then Kazimir awoke to Fraeya kicking him. It took a moment for the wizard to gather his bearings. Was it truly morning already?
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt your beauty rest?" Fraeya drawled with false sweetness.
"Must you do that every time you wake me?" Kazimir snarled while patting his sore leg. The rogue flashed a brutal smile that showed each of her pearly white teeth. She found it all too easy to get under the tiefling's skin.
Kazimir shook his head, internally acknowledging his distrust for the drow among them more than ever. Beyond that, however, the wizard did not know what to make of the strange vision he'd had. It was not the first. After all, glimpses of a great library filled with stone had been the catalyst that set him upon his journey to Silverymoon, which led to his capture by the drow, and consequently, put him on his current path. Visions guided him. To good or ill. This was the first time that any of his traveling companions had appeared in one, however. Kazimir did not know if that was significant or not. Regardless, he was not quite ready to share his visions with anyone just yet.
The party's marching order was much the same on their second day of travel as the first. Fraeya resumed her post at the head with Shuushar. Eldeth served as a guide to the blind Balasar while Prince Derendil dutifully carried Stool. Zelyra once again magically cloaked their passage, and Sarith silently brought up the rear behind her.
The druid did not know how she felt about that, to walk with her back to a drow elf. So far it only served to heighten her already paranoid senses. With a snap of her fingers, Zelyra summoned Peanut. The small grey field mouse appeared with a small flash of light upon her shoulder.
"Watch the drow," Zelyra whispered to her animal companion in Druidic. "Warn me if he tries anything."
Their trek was careful and quiet despite the sense of urgency. Most conversation was had telepathically through Stool's spores, to prevent their voices from needlessly echoing down the tunnels. It was a long, arduous march. Many were not used to walking such uneven terrain for hours on end. And yet, as the day before they could not afford to stop; not to rest or to forage until it was time for their evening's rest. They pushed on.
Around mid-day—or rather, what one could assume was the equivalent—faint tremors began to lightly shake the ground.
"Is that cause for concern?" Prince Derendil inquired through their telepathic bond.
Fraeya gave a short laugh. "Everything in the Underdark is a cause of concern, prince."
"What the drow means," Eldeth corrected with a stern brow. "Is that we should be wary, but such tremors are normal. I may not be familiar with the Northdark, but we dwarves are no strangers to a life lived underground. The rock constantly shifts and quakes when ye delve this deep. And I have no doubt we will go deeper still."
That last bit was true. For while most of the surface dwellers were puzzled by the seemingly endless maze of twists and turns that Shuushar guided them through, one thing was clear. They were going down. The air was disturbingly still, and the temperature steadily rising. Not uncomfortably so but enough that Zelyra had shed her heavy furred cloak some time ago. Most of the others had removed their cloaks as well.
"What causes the tremors?" Kazimir could not help asking.
"Many nasty beasties move through stone," Buppido answered with a cackle.
Jimjar clarified, "Earth elementals can pass through the stone without disturbing it but there are others—great worms—who eat their way through. They are the creators of these tunnel networks. Do you think the svirfneblin mined all this? Impossible!"
Kazimir took in the sheer size of the tunnel they currently walked down. This one was larger than most, well over ten feet wide. The wizard shuddered as his mind conjured the unsettling image of a worm that large. "I hope we never come across one of those giant worms," he replied.
"We would all be dead," Fraeya said with honesty. She could not resist adding, "But I bet that you would be the first one eaten."
Kazimir scowled at the rogue's back.
"I'll throw in a silver piece to that bet," Jimjar chuckled.
The ominous words resonated through the haze of telepathic spores as another tremor shook the earth around them. But this time, it was accompanied by a loud—crack—and a low rumble that rapidly grew louder and louder and louder. This was cause for concern.
Jimjar's mirth turned to terror. "Cave in!" he called out, breaking their silence.
True to the svirfneblin's warning, the ceiling began to collapse. Boulders and pebbles of all shapes and sizes, as well as deadly stalactites that took on the likeness of spears, rained down upon the startled party. Zelyra and Eldeth had the added protection of their shields, but the others found themselves pelted by the onslaught of stone. Some were quickly buried beneath it. Only Sarith managed to nimbly dodge out of the way of the falling rock as he had been the last in line.
When the dust finally settled, Zelyra found herself subconsciously counting those around her. Her body ached and there was a nasty cut on her eyebrow that she would have to deal with at some point. But those concerns flew out the window when the druid realized that a third of their group was missing.
Shuushar and Fraeya were mostly unscathed at the front. Sarith leaned against the cavern wall far behind her, catching his breath. Buppido squeezed through a tiny crack in the amassed pile rubble, coughing wildly. And Balasar blindly moved rocks around to free Eldeth who clutched her shield arm in pain. The bulk of the rock had fallen upon those directly in the center of their line. Prince Derendil, Kazimir, Jimjar, and Stool were nowhere to be seen.
Additionally, a foul stench now permeated the air. The druid could only guess that the cave-in had disturbed a natural gas pocket within the rock. Ignoring the smell, Zelyra frantically cried out, "Derendil! Prince Derendil? Can you hear me?" For some reason, his disappearance disturbed her the most.
"Help!" a faint voice came from meters to her right.
Zelyra slung her shield over her back and began climbing across the rubble on her hands and knees, following the voice. A hand suddenly burst through the rock near her. It was charcoal colored and humanoid with long fingers. Not Prince Derendil, but Kazimir. Zelyra pushed her worry for the prince aside. After pushing some of the larger boulders aside, she wrapped both hands around Kazimir's and tugged with all her might. Slowly the surely, the tiefling emerged from his rocky prison. Like Buppido before him, he sputtered and coughed, forcing dust from his lungs.
"Are you okay?" Zelyra asked, taken aback by the genuineness of her concern. While finding Prince Derendil might have been her first reaction, she was truly worried about the others as well.
Kazimir nodded, still breathless. "Where are the others? Stool?" he rasped.
"Still buried," Zelyra replied, biting her lip.
Balasar appeared over the druid's shoulder. "We need to dig the others out. Can you stand, Kazimir?"
The tiefling stood, brushed himself off and stubbornly replied, "Of course. It takes more than a little rock to put me down."
Balasar offered a toothy smile and clapped Kazimir forcefully on the shoulder. Only when the dragonborn turned his back to begin the daunting task of moving more boulders, did the wizard wince in pain.
No one objected when Kazimir summoned four floating globules of dim light that hovered over the rubble. Likewise, a small dancing flame appeared in one of Zelyra's free hands. Balasar was delighted to finally see properly. The search for Prince Derendil, Jimjar, and Stool fell into full swing. Nearly all the group aided in some way, though Eldeth's efforts were slowed by her injured shield arm. Only Sarith refused to offer his help. He sniffed the air and scowled. One hand fell to his sword belt as his silvery head turned to look back in the direction from which they had come.
Zelyra shook her head, both disgusted with the drow's lack of concern and yet, unsurprised by the behavior. Too bad it was not you, Sarith, who had been buried, the druid thought to herself bitterly. Would you then be so indifferent to our efforts?
With the group's combined strength, soon enough rock was moved to reveal all three missing party members. Balasar and Shuushar unearthed the prince, and it was Fraeya who found Jimjar. Both were conscious and unharmed, aside from heavy bruising and a few cuts. When Eldeth finally uncovered Stool, however, the shield dwarf immediately called for the healer among them. The little myconid was not moving.
Zelyra bit her lip with indecision. She felt drained. Most of her magic had been expended covering their steps earlier in the day, and they still had quite a bit of travel ahead of them. Was it wise to waste what little she had left? There were ways to revive unconscious individuals without the aid of magic, though it would take much longer.
Kazimir pushed by the druid and shield dwarf to kneel upon the rubble next to his unconscious little friend. As he gathered Stool into his arms, the wizard looked up at Zelyra with pleading silver eyes.
"Help them, please."
The plea resonated. Needing no further encouragement, Zelyra dropped to her knees beside the pair. She could spare a little more magic. Eldeth took several steps back to give them some space. Spectral vines began to tendril out of Zelyra's fingertips and reached out for the myconid. But before the spell fully took shape, Sarith suddenly came rushing at them. Zelyra gasped and instinctively threw up her shield.
Kazimir found himself back within a familiar vision.
But instead of attacking as the wizard had expected, Sarith pulled out the light crossbow strapped to his back and fired a bolt upwards towards the dark ceiling. "Above you," he growled in Elvish, the most universally shared language among them.
The travelers collectively glanced upwards and then instantly wished they hadn't. For watching them as it clung to the ruined ceiling was a four-foot-long, pale yellow centipede-like aberration. A carrion crawler. Wriggling, flat feelers protruded from either side of its head. And two obsidian eye stalks focused intently on the prey who lie in wait beneath it.
As the party scrambled to arm themselves or find cover, the carrion crawler scuttled across the ceiling and down the tunnel wall, heading straight for Zelyra, Kazimir, and Stool. The wizard cried out as he leapt to his feet with Stool clutched protectively in his grasp and ran in the opposite direction. Zelyra was left alone. She stared mutely at the creature of living nightmare. It was the kind of abomination she had only heard about in Laucian's stories. The druid came back to her senses a moment too late. As she raised a shaking hand to cast an offensive spell—any spell—the carrion crawler's poisonous appendages struck her.
Peanut squealed and delved into Zelyra's braid in fear but refused to leave her.
Within seconds of the feelers touching her skin, Zelyra felt pins and needles break out upon her entire body. Blood rushed to her ears. The intense throb of her heart blocked out any other noise. Everything went numb. She opened her mouth to speak, but foam poured out instead. As her vision went dark, Zelyra's last thought was that the creature's poison worked remarkably quickly.
Fraeya watched from behind her stalagmite cover as the group's sole healer fell limp in the carrion crawler's grasp. With Zelyra no longer resisting, the tentacles pulled its prey inward, towards an open maw filled with rows upon rows of tiny but deadly teeth. The drow felt a spike of dread course through her and then…another emotion she was less familiar with. Guilt? Sympathy? Zelyra had been the only one to turn back the day before. Zelyra had helped carry her.
The rogue did not enjoy feeling as though she was in someone's debt.
"Don't let the crawler get Zelyra in its mouth!" Fraeya called out as she loosened an arrow from her shortbow. It hit its mark, right between the chitinous plates of the carrion crawler. "If it does, she's dead!"
No sooner did the words leave her lips, did a crossbow bolt strike the same mark and split the shaft of her arrow clean in two. Fraeya turned to find Sarith gazing at her evenly with just a hint of challenge reflected in his crimson eyes.
Fraeya glared back and quickly signed in Drow, Challenge accepted.
Prince Derendil let out a roar that shook the already unstable cavern and echoed forebodingly down the winding tunnels. For the first time since meeting him, his traveling companions saw nothing resembling a prince in Derendil's countenance. The quaggoth charged and tore into the carrion crawler. Not with forged weapons but a frenzy of claws and teeth. This was a savage force of nature.
Though wary of the prince's strange behavior, Balasar and Eldeth still came to their companion's aid, longsword and battle axe drawn respectively. Eldeth's typical brutal precision was lacking due to her injured arm. But Balasar was there, making up for the attacks she missed and blocking the carrion crawler's returning blows. In her state, Eldeth was not so proud as to admit she appreciated the dragonborn taking many of the hits for her.
Buppido and Jimjar threw themselves into the fray as well wielding wicked knives stolen from the drow armory that looked more like shortswords in their small hands. Meanwhile, arrows and bolts fired from Fraeya and Sarith's weapons peppered the creature. Slowly but surely, they began to hack away at the carrion crawler. The aberration dropped its paralyzed prey and began a desperate fight of its life, but it was vastly outnumbered. Even it understood that death drew near.
From a relatively safe distance, Kazimir hurled bolts of fire at the abysmal creature with his crystalline staff. The wizard felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning his fellow spellcaster. But his gut reaction had been to get Stool far, far away. Shuushar had followed and took the sprout to free the wizard's hands. Kazimir had not objected. Especially when he realized that though Zelyra's spell had been cut short, enough magic had been spent to wake Stool.
"She saved me again. Help her," the sprout telepathically pleaded to the wizard.
"We will," Kazimir promised.
Prince Derendil pushed through the confusing bestial rage that had so wholly and suddenly consumed him. He pushed through the horror of blood and poisonous juices marring his fine velveteen robes. His current form, no matter how much he despised it, had the advantage. The carrion crawler's poisonous attacks had no effect. Thus, every return swipe of Derendil's claws and every gnash of his fangs brought him one step closer to Zelyra. Someone, he could in good conscious count as a friend, as she had been the first in a very long while to show him an ounce of kindness. Perhaps he would one day find the courage to tell her how much their initial interaction in the prison cell had meant to him. How relieved he had felt when she did not immediately scoff away his story. For she had been the first. No one else had believed him.
After all, why would they? It sounded like the tale of a madman.
Soon, Prince Derendil found himself before the creature's maw. Zelyra lay unmoving upon the ground before it, green eyes open and glassy, staring upwards and yet not seeing. The bestial rage welling within Derendil subsided. Dodging whipping tentacle attacks, the prince gently hoisted the druid over his shoulder and retreated with Eldeth and Balasar covering his escape.
Eldeth roared in pain as one of the carrion crawler's tentacles struck her injured arm. Her shield clattered to the cavern floor. Buppido and Jimjar's deft attacks waned as well. Injuries from the rockslide and subsequent hits from the carrion crawler began to take its toll on the drained party. Balasar's two handed longsword strikes against the aberration came twice as hard and twice as fast in retaliation, but he too was beginning to wear.
With the prince and Zelyra now clear of the creature, Kazimir saw his opening. "Give me some room!" the wizard called, raising his staff. The blue crystal at its head pulsed with ever growing intensity. "Everyone back!"
Though they had not known him long, Kazimir's companions could easily recognize the mad gleam that appeared in a mage's eye when they were about to unleash a great but deadly piece of magic. Balasar, Eldeth, Jimjar, and Buppido wisely disengaged and distanced themselves.
A five-foot sphere of swirling flame erupted from the wizard's staff. The sudden bright light had both Fraeya and Sarith shielding their eyes in pain. With his free hand, Kazimir made a precise gesture and hurled the sphere like a pseudo-battering ram towards the carrion crawler. As the flames swiftly consumed it, the aberration released one last screech of pain and then collapsed upon the ground, dead.
Their foe may have been defeated, but victory was not yet at hand. Prince Derendil gently lay Zelyra out upon the rocky ground and then turned to his companions, his expression one of helplessness. "How do we revive her?" he asked.
Balasar sheathed his blood-soaked longsword and approached. The champion fighter's knowledge of medicine was nowhere near on par with the druid, but he knew enough to keep himself alive. "Can you give me a little more light, Kazimir?" The dragonborn gave a nod of appreciation when Kazimir summoned a single floating orb of dim light. After a few moments of study, Balasar announced, "She's poisoned and paralyzed, but alive."
Derendil breathed a sigh of relief.
Balasar continued, "I believe it will wear off eventually. Maybe an hour or two?"
"We don't have an hour," Fraeya cut in. "We need to move before we attract the attention of something far worse than a carrion crawler. And cut out that light! That's what attracted it to us in the first place!"
The floating orb of light flickered out. The group was bathed in darkness once more.
"Does anyone have a health potion?" Kazimir asked, though he already knew the answer. Collectively, the group shook their heads.
Peanut cautiously appeared from his hiding spot within Zelyra's braid and scurried down her torso, towards her sword belt. Eldeth's sharp gaze followed the creature's movement. Clever mouse, she thought. "Perhaps there's something in that bag of hers that might help," the shield dwarf offered, pointing to a dark brown embroidered pouch that hung from the druid's belt.
"The berries!" Fraeya exclaimed brightly. The drow did not explain as she snatched the pouch from Zelyra's waist and began to rifle through it.
Jimjar elbowed Eldeth's waist. "Bet you she finds a whole lot of nothing."
"Ye might be surprised," the shield dwarf replied, hopeful for Zelyra's sake.
A menagerie of foreign scents struck Fraeya upon opening the pouch. Though strange to her senses, they were not unpleasant. Certainly, better than the stench of the carrion crawler at any rate. Inside was a bundled assortment of leafy greens, black and red berries, a few petals, golden feathers, minerals, and small crystals…but none of the bright purple berries that Zelyra had given to Fraeya the day before.
"They're gone," the drow whispered as realization struck her. Zelyra had used the last of her supply. Not just on a stranger, but a drow elf. Why? Selfless acts such as that were an abnormal concept to Fraeya.
"Told you," Jimjar said to Eldeth. His brow then furrowed, "Wait. What's gone?"
Fraeya shook her head and continued to stare into the bag, her face the picture of perplexity.
"So, what do we do now?" Kazimir asked when Fraeya did not elaborate. "It's not like we can haul an unconscious body around for the rest of the day."
"If the false elf is being a burden, then we leave her," Buppido grumbled.
"No!" the others responded simultaneously, Fraeya included.
"What? A healer is a great asset to us," the rogue rationalized in answer to the dubious looks she received. Though, she was uncertain if that was the entire truth of her motives.
With a frustrated growl, Sarith pushed his way through the group as he pulled something from his pack. His patience had reached its limit. At the rate that the fools were going, they would never move on. Were the voices in his head not torture enough? How did he get stuck with a group of such half-wits?
"Hey, what do you think you're—"
Before Kazimir fully finished his question, Sarith knelt and shoved a dark object into Zelyra's mouth. The group's adverse reaction was immediate. Kazimir grasped the back of Sarith's leathers and forcefully yanked him back at the same time Prince Derendil frantically flipped Zelyra over onto her side, hoping to dislodge the object.
"Hold up—what did you just give her?" Kazimir demanded, his staff pressed threateningly against the drow's throat. Sarith shrugged the tiefling's filthy hands and magic staff away and purposely did not answer. But Kazimir wouldn't let it go. He pointed an accusatory finger at the other male and hissed, "Answer me, drow! We don't just go around shoving random things into people's mouths!"
"Tell him, Sarith," Fraeya ordered, her tone leaving little room for argument.
"It will help her," Sarith spat, his face now hot with anger. The warrior defiantly held Fraeya's gaze and did not avert his eyes. If she was to show him such blatant disrespect, he was unafraid to return it. He had little else to lose.
Fraeya cocked a singular white eyebrow, not quite believing Sarith would do something so altruistic. But true to his word, Zelyra's eyes shot open not a moment later. Derendil sat back on his heels to give the half-elf space as she curled in on herself, coughing violently. Truthfully, Zelyra felt like death. Her head pounded, her tongue felt heavy, and her body ached, but she was safe for the moment.
"Water?" she croaked.
Jimjar handed her his waterskin.
Zelyra drank, letting the cool water coat her throat, and tried to make sense of the situation. She remembered the cave-in, remembered trying to help Stool, but then everything went dark.
"We were attacked by a carrion crawler that was attracted to the light you and Kazimir summoned," Jimjar explained, seeing the druid's mounting confusion. When the deep gnome gestured to the aberration's cooling carcass, Zelyra's eyes grew wide. Jimjar continued, "You were paralyzed and poisoned by one of its tentacles. We were discussing how to wake you when Sarith gave you some sort of antitoxin."
Zelyra found it impossible to hide her surprise.
"I suppose I should say thank you," the druid told him in Elvish.
"Let's just move on," Sarith sneered.
The male warrior spun on his heel and stalked off into the dark tunnel without waiting for the others to follow. They did not treat Fraeya with the same doubt or insult even though she was drow. What had he done, other than distance himself, to garner such suspicion? The unjust treatment infuriated him. And that was even more cause for alarm, for Sarith could not say why their opinion mattered to him at all.
Lead them to the Gift, the feminine voice in his head coaxed. Show them my unbridled joy.
Perhaps he would do just that.
I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on this chapter. I'm still not sure exactly how I feel about it. I've had very little free time since Thanksgiving but now that the holidays are just about over, things should slow down. I hope to update more regularly in the future and get back into reading other stories. :)
I realize there is a lot of hate on Sarith in this chapter. In our actual game, Kazimir's player got into an intense argument with our DM over what Sarith did. We gave his character a lot of flak at the beginning that may or may not have been deserved.
Another thing of note, in-game DM never told us what the object was that Sarith used to revive Zelyra. While writing this chapter, I asked the DM what it was. His response was, "No idea. I made it up." My headcanon is that it would be something like a bezoar from Harry Potter, smelling salts, or something of that nature. If anyone has any better ideas of something relative to the Underdark or Faerûn, I'm open to ideas.
Also, there is a nod to Kazimir's school of magic in this chapter, and no, it has nothing to do with his affinity for fire. I'm curious as to whether it came across or not. Feedback is appreciated.
Hope everyone has a happy and safe holiday!