Chapter Seven
Caught in a Web
1485 DR / Day 7
Every step the group advanced towards the village of Sloobludop filled Balasar with increasing anxiety. And yet, the dragonborn's kuo-toan friend did not seem to share his worry. While Balasar had not known Shuushar long in the grand scheme of things, the dragonborn could not help thinking Shuushar's character was changed from when he'd found Balasar along the shores of the Dark Lake months prior. Shuushar had been peaceful then, but now he was exceedingly so. To the point where Balasar feared nothing could pierce the kuo-toa's tranquil façade. Not the threat of advancing drow, not a storm of fire, nor attacking demons or aberrations.
Something very strange was happening in the Underdark, Balasar decided. Something that took a creature's ordinary quirks and amplified them.
Three days now had passed since the prisoners escaped Velkynvelve. Shuushar had promised that by keeping a fast pace, they would reach his village in that time. But the rockslide and subsequent encounter with the carrion crawler had cost them hours of travel. Even with the aberration's quick defeat, they'd still had to pick their way through the wreckage of the cave-in. At least one more full day of travel lay before them and it by far would be the hardest. The Silken Paths were an unavoidable obstacle. The name alone filled Balasar with even more trepidation. Hordes of orcs, drow, duergar, demons, you name it, the dragonborn would gladly face them. But spiders—
"Something troubles ye, champion," Eldeth's sudden voice came from the dark.
The hour was late. Around them, the rest of the group was lost to the world of dreams. Though the dragonborn could not see more than a foot before him, his other senses made up for the loss of sight. He heard Jimjar's quiet snores from paces to his left. Prince Derendil's were distinctively louder. Buppido muttered unintelligible phrases of Undercommon. Shuushar softly blubbered. He knew Zelyra was curled up in a ball with her back to the cavern wall. Kazimir lay near her with his precious spellbook tucked beneath his head like a pillow and Stool nestled up in the space behind his knees. Lastly, Fraeya and Sarith dozed on the furthest reaches of their camp, notably on opposite sides. Everyone was present and accounted for. But unlike the others, Balasar was unable to find rest despite his aching muscles and tired feet.
"Ye've been tossing and turning fer half the night now. Perhaps telling me what's on yer mind might help ye find rest," Eldeth tried again. She then muttered, "And then maybe I might finally find some shut-eye as well."
Balasar sat up now and squinted into the darkness. He saw only a vague outline of his shield dwarf companion. How much of Shuushar's warning did he wish to share? Was he overthinking the situation? Eldeth's insight surpassed his own. She also had the advantage of being able to see the person she was speaking to. Balasar knew she would know if he lied to her. Still, he tried.
"Nothing troubles me other than the damn rock digging into my back."
Just as he suspected, Eldeth saw straight through the lie. "Me grandfather always said not to go to bed with a worry on yer mind," she drawled.
"I thought the phrase was 'do not go to bed angry,'" Balasar countered.
"Anger and fear can incite similar turmoil," Eldeth shot back. "Such as the inability to rest."
"Touché."
Eldeth continued, "Me grandfather lived to be 405 and he was by far the most stubborn dwarf I've ever met. Passed just this last Summertide. He raised me and my sister, Mira, ye know? Our mother and father gave their lives to the cause of reclaiming Gauntlgrym when we were just young'uns. Grandfather Feldrun was all we had."
"Why are you telling me this?" Balasar wondered.
"If ye share something personal with someone, sometimes they'll feel inclined to share something in return," Eldeth remarked proudly. "Did it work?"
"Clever dwarf," Balasar grumbled for he did now feel obliged to share his thoughts.
The dragonborn missed Eldeth's smile of satisfaction in the gloom. "I get it from me grandfather," she cracked. "Now, share what's troubling ye so we might find sleep this night."
"Now that you've twisted my arm into it," Balasar muttered. At last, he admitted, "I knew Shuushar before the slave pens. He is different now than when I first met him."
"Different how?" Eldeth inquired, her interest peaked.
"He was always…" the dragonborn fished for the right wording. "Tranquil? Unbothered by the troubles of the world around him? And now, he is even more so. That nonchalance could lead us into trouble. Two opposing factions are at war with each other in Sloobludop and Shuushar is an exile. I fear neither he nor we will be welcomed there."
Eldeth thought on that for a moment before replying, "Well, I fear that even that be the case, we have no other choice. Ye heard the drow. Sloobludop is the closest settlement to Velkynvelve, and we are in desperate need of supplies."
Balasar rolled over onto his side and snorted. As he did, a small puff of steam left his nostrils, speaking to his draconic heritage. "You don't know the koa-toans like I do. They are a mad people."
"All of the Underdark races are mad people!" Eldeth exclaimed, her voice rising just the slightest bit. She lowered it again, however, when Zelyra stirred near her. "And ye know why? Ye spend yer entire life in a land without sun, without the notion of night or day, and ye might go crazy as well! Even we dwarves venture out of our caverns fer fresh air every now and again. Their seclusion is not healthy."
"I think it's something more than that," the dragonborn argued. "I've been having dreams—"
"Dreams?" Eldeth hissed.
"Yes, and they are very unsettling. They started just before my capture and only seem to grow worse the closer we get to Sloobludop."
"Do you dream of living shadow?" the dwarf asked, her voice now taking on a sharp edge. "Or tentacles gliding through murky water? Do ye hear continuous laughter that sends chills down yer spine and yet ye want nothing more than to seek it out?"
Balasar nodded. He knew Eldeth's darkvision would catch the gesture.
"I overheard Kazimir tell Zelyra that he has been plagued by similar visions to which she admitted she has them as well," the dragonborn revealed while Eldeth pondered their shared revelation. "So, tell me this, how is it that we all are sharing the same dreams?"
It took a moment for Eldeth to find her tongue.
"I have no answer for ye," she eventually said.
They quieted shortly after, feeling even more unsettled than when they first began the conversation. And they were not the only ones. Unbeknownst to them, Zelyra too was wide awake. She'd heard their every word. And if the disastrous encounter with the carrion crawler had not shaken her, their conversation certainly did.
The young druid pressed her back securely against the cavern wall and clutched her pack tightly to her chest. The soft material somehow still carried the scent of Neverwinter Wood, damp earth after a fresh rain. And yet, the familiar scent brought none of the comfort that it should have. The despairing atmosphere of the Underdark weighed on her. She felt utterly alone. And that was foolish, was it not? For she was surrounded by a group of people. Most of them she got along with well enough.
But Zelyra missed home. This night, more than any, questions threaten to consume her. How long before her pack lost its comforting scent? Would she find her way back to her village, her people? Where was Laucian? Would she ever again know the comfort of her father's strong embrace? And perhaps most troubling of all, if she did make it home, would Varan accept the apology that she justly owed him? For he had been right, after all.
The ranger's handsome but scarred face flashed before her eyes and only served to trouble her heart further. "Don't be a fool. Don't be like your brother." His angry words resounded in her memory as if they had been spoken just yesterday. "This is beyond you." They had struck like a whip just as Varan intended.
Zelyra knew that she was not like her elder brother, Zelphar. She would never dream of abandoning the people who took them in when they'd had nothing. But neither could she have sat back and done nothing while family was once again stolen from her. Were the first, or second times not enough? Why not try for a third, fate had viciously decided. When Varan informed her of Laucian's capture, Zelyra had made a choice. And no matter how wrong it may have been, she could not take it back. She made her bed. Now she was forced to lie in it.
The headdress, which Zelyra had not removed since retrieving it from the chests in the guard tower, became a sudden crushing weight upon her brow.
"Your people need you! Don't choose the one over the many."
She almost preferred the nightmares to memory.
—
"You're in luck, dragonborn," Fraeya announced through Stool's rapport spores not long after they resumed travel the next morning. "We're about to encounter some faerzress."
The unfamiliar term had Balasar at a loss. In all his time as a slave in Gracklestugh, he had never heard of faerzress.
"And why is that good news to him?" Eldeth cut in suspiciously.
"Faerzress emits dim light," the drow answered.
Balasar's maw curved into a smile. "I will be able to see!"
"Precisely. Now if my own eyes do not deceive me…" Fraeya continued, squinting to allow her light-sensitive vision to adjust. "The upcoming tunnel is almost entirely infused with it." Indeed, the tunnel they rapidly approached was not dark. Out of it spilled a warm orange glow akin to flickering candlelight.
"Faerzress is a type of fungus, I presume?" Zelyra asked curiously from the back of the line.
The drow carefully pondered her response. Faerzress was complicated. It was not necessarily a physical thing but rather a wonderous arcane energy that pervaded the majority of the Underdark. Eventually, she settled with, "Not exactly. Whatever you do, don't touch anything and for the love of your surface gods, do not cast any spells around it." Fraeya aimed the last part at Kazimir who walked behind her.
"Why do you look to me specifically when saying that?" Kazimir questioned, his white brow drawn in insult.
"Because I just know you're going to do something stupid," Fraeya sneered.
The wizard stuck out his tongue. "You obviously don't know me at all."
Their mental link fell silent after that. The party soon discovered that the faerzress did not just consume a lone portion of the tunnel. It continued for miles of their travel. For Balasar, this was agreeable as he was able to navigate without Eldeth's assistance for a change. But to those native to the Underdark, the faerzress's concentrated presence filled them with increasing anxiety. As beautiful and hypnotic as it was to witness, faerzress could be just as erratic and volatile.
Fraeya was correct. Faerzress itself was complicated. There were various legends of how it came to be. The most widely believed theory was that it was an unexpected product of the ritual that exiled the Ilythiiri dark elves from the sunlit lands of the World Above during the Fourth Crown War—the same infamous ritual that not only affected the Ilythiirians, but all dark elves. Various mages had tried to study faerzress over the years, but very few understood it. It affected areas in different ways. Faerzress was ultimately a wild card. To purposely harness or tamper with the strange arcane matter was left only to the bravest of individuals, or the most fool-hearted. [1][2]
By mid-afternoon, Zelyra found herself nursing a headache. She couldn't say if it was from prolonged exposure to light after going tendays without it or simply an effect of the strange faerzress itself. But as the group rounded a corner and the druid chanced a glance behind her at Sarith, she swore she caught a glimpse of shadow that moved independently of the drow. Fighting the pounding pressure resonating at the center of her forehead, Zelyra stopped and threw up a warning gesture in Druidic Sign.
Sarith froze, more disturbed by the druid's change in bearing than understanding her signal. The experienced warrior observed how her green eyes darted, panicked and unsure. With a vigilant hand on his sword belt, Sarith turned to look behind him. He saw nothing. Even in the glow of the faerzress, his vision was far superior to a half-elf's. Through their telepathic bond, he asked, "What do you see that I do not?"
"A shade follows us," Zelyra responded, holding a hand to her forehead. "It comes and goes. At first, I thought it was your own shadow but…it's not."
"Where?" the drow growled, his hands on the hilts of both short swords now.
Zelyra pointed with her finger, "Do you not see it? Just there?"
"I see nothing."
His response rang of truth. Sarith saw naught the shade that the druid saw clear as day. But to Zelyra's eyes, the shadow that had once flickered in and out of sight now appeared with terrifying permanence. It grew larger and larger until it extinguished the light in the tunnel completely. Zelyra drew her scimitar, Flameruin. As she did, a thin line of white-hot flame appeared along the blade in answer to its master's call.
Sarith tried to reach out with his mind to Zelyra's but found their telepathic connection inexplicably broken. "What are you doing?" the drow snapped aloud in Elvish. In a flash, his short swords appeared in both hands. Sarith did not believe Zelyra had any intention of attacking him, but there was no harm in preparing for any outcome.
"How do you not see it?" Zelyra waved Flameruin as she argued with the drow, fearful now for her sanity.
"Zelyra—there is nothing there," Sarith contended, his voice sharp.
Ahead of the pair came similar outbursts of confusion and disorder from the rest of the party. The rapport spores no longer linked their minds. Prince Derendil gently shook Stool but the myconid sprout was completely unresponsive. Then Jimjar let out a shout and took off sprinting down the tunnel, abruptly leaving the others behind in the wake of his panicked steps.
The idea of also running seemed like a brilliant idea to the cornered druid. Zelyra's expression crumpled as she sobbed, "I'm not going crazy!" Sarith stared back at her with an even but understanding expression. He knew that fear all too well. But before the drow could react, Zelyra turned and took off running after Jimjar. He and the rest of the party watched in bewildered silence as their svirfneblin and half-elf companions swiftly disappeared down the glowing tunnel.
"What on Toril just happened?!" Kazimir cried, his mind racing to make sense of the spiraling situation.
"No idea! But we can't just let them get away," Balasar roared, drawing his longsword for safety's sake. "After them!" The dragonborn couldn't say what affected his companions, only that a fit of madness had overtaken them. And in the Underdark, that could quickly get a person killed. Without waiting to see what the others would do, Balasar took off down the tunnel.
The rest followed. All, except for Fraeya.
Kazimir glanced back over his shoulder when the swift rogue did not immediately outpace him. What he saw appeared to be a statue frozen in place. "Mystra, help me," he muttered testily under his breath. "This drow will be the death of me."
Against his better judgement, Kazimir skidded to a halt and backtracked while the others continued after Jimjar and Zelyra. But the drow did not so much as blink as he came to stand before her. Kazimir dramatically waved his arms and said, "Hey! Aren't you coming? In case you haven't noticed, everyone is running." Still, Fraeya did not react. More unexplained and irrational behavior. The baffled tiefling rubbed at his temples, grumbling, "What is in the Nine Hells is wrong with everyone?"
Kazimir tried anything and everything he could think of. He even went as far as to attempt to drag the drow with him. But Kazimir was not the strongest of individuals. Fraeya was mysteriously locked in place. Fed up, he finally shouted, "Come on, move!" And then Fraeya took a single step forward.
Well, that was strange, the wizard thought.
He tried again, "Forward?"
Fraeya took another step.
"Back?" he said experimentally.
To his astonishment, Fraeya took a step back.
"You can only do as others command?" Kazimir breathed.
As he looked into the drow's silvery eyes, the wizard found he was correct. Reflected in them were fear and uncertainty. Fraeya was in there, trapped by an invisible force and unable to control her own body. The wicked part of Kazimir knew he could have fun with that. Fraeya took special delight in tormenting him for whatever reason. This was a chance for a little payback. But his rational side argued that two of their companions were currently running down a tunnel, overtaken by the same fit of madness that afflicted Fraeya. The rogue was the fastest of them all. If anyone could catch Zelyra and Jimjar, it was her.
Another time, Kazimir promised himself. Payback would come.
"Run after Zelyra and Jimjar," the wizard instructed. "Stop them."
The order snapped Fraeya into action. Her body acted on its own accord, muscles tightening and coiling before she took off like a shot down the faerzress filled tunnel. Her heart thundered, her legs ached from days of difficult travel and poor rest, but Kazimir's command took over all sense of thought and reason. Pain was irrelevant. She had to obey. The rogue easily overtook the rest of the group with her rapid strides, even surpassing Sarith and Balasar. There were cries of alarm and curiosity from her traveling companions, but Fraeya paid them no mind.
Run after Zelyra and Jimjar. Stop them. That was her task.
In what felt like no time at all, Fraeya caught sight of Zelyra's bobbing blonde braid several yards ahead. With a renewed burst of speed, Fraeya threw everything she had into closing the distance between herself and the half-elf. Stop them. There were many ways that Fraeya could stop her companion and not all of them involved the healer getting up again. But Fraeya had enough sense not to take that route. Instead, as the rogue gained on Zelyra inch by inch, she began to calculate just how much force it would take to tackle the fleeing druid. And when she was just upon Zelyra's heels, she reacted. The pair collided and tumbled down to the stone floor together in a tangled heap of arms and legs, leathers, and flame from Zelyra's burning sword. The sword clattered to the ground some feet from them. Its flames extinguished immediately upon leaving the druid's hand.
It was the pain that seemed to knock sense back into them. Then confusion set in. As the females separated and righted themselves, neither could recall what had led either of them to run in the first place.
"What was that for?" Zelyra shrieked.
Fraeya had no honest answer. "I—I'm sorry," she blurted.
The trivial phrase felt strange on the rogue's tongue. She could not remember the last time she apologized to someone. Fortunately, Fraeya was spared from overthinking that epiphany by the rest of the party's arrival. Fraeya and Zelyra were quickly surrounded by their menagerie of traveling companions who bombarded the pair with questions and concerns in a jumbled blur of Elvish, Common, and Undercommon.
"I think we're the ones who should be asking what happened," Zelyra replied in Common as she picked up and sheepishly sheathed Flameruin.
"What do ye mean?" Eldeth asked.
Fraeya shrugged, "We don't remember?"
"You don't remember screaming about a shadow?" Kazimir asked, pointing to Zelyra. He then rounded on Fraeya, "And you—you're telling me you don't remember standing still as a statue until someone commanded you to move? And neither of you remember Jimjar taking off down the tunnel in a panicked flight or Stool becoming unresponsive!"
Zelyra and Fraeya shared a dazed glance. They remembered none of that.
"Is Stool okay?" Zelyra asked quietly.
Prince Derendil still held the myconid sprout. He bounced them in his arms for a moment before saying, "I believe they are better, but it will be some time before they can mentally link us again."
The druid nodded, thankful that Stool was unharmed. Somehow the sprout had a bad habit of becoming the target of danger without even trying. "I just don't understand what happened to us," she said, her voice shaking.
"That's what faerzress can do," Sarith stated plainly. Hidden in his monotonous words was the underlying message, you're not crazy. But whether the others caught it was a mystery.
"We should leave this place. Quickly," Balasar rumbled, still clutching his longsword in one hand with an iron grip. "The faerzress's trickery is not worth my sight."
"Unfortunately, I don't see that happening anytime soon," Fraeya replied, staring hopelessly down the lighted tunnel. The faerzress showed no signs of thinning out. "Just…everyone keep your wits about you as best as you can as we go on."
"One still is missing," Buppido interrupted in garbled Undercommon. "The bartering gnome's nowhere to be seen." Those who understood him came to the same conclusion. Balasar translated for Zelyra, Kazimir, and Eldeth.
"Well, we know Jimjar's intended path. We can only follow and hope that we catch up with him," Kazimir said. He pressed a hand to his cramping side and took a deep breath. "I don't know about the rest of you but I…cannot run anymore."
"If you cannot run, then we walk with you. We stay together," Prince Derendil told the wizard with sincere steadfastness. "There is safety in numbers."
"Isn't that the very thing that has linked us all along?" Fraeya jibed.
And yet, the joke brought laughter to no one for the mass fit of hysteria had shaken everyone. The group continued after that, falling in the same marching order they'd used for the past three days—except now, one short. Jimjar's absence was felt by all. Even after such a short time of companionship, it was odd not to hear a quick quip or a friendly bet from the svirfneblin's mouth. Yet, there was little that could be done aside from moving forward.
As they walked, Kazimir could not resist poking Fraeya on the shoulder.
"You were wrong, you know," he told her.
"Hm?" the drow hummed absentmindedly.
"Earlier you said that you just knew I would do something stupid with the faerzress," Kazimir hissed, his tone as virulent as the flames he produced in his spell work. "But if it wasn't for me, you would still be stuck in a trance back in that tunnel. You would have been left behind."
The stunning truth of the comment forced Fraeya to falter in her a step and Kazimir found that it was precisely the payback that he needed.
More than two hours of travel passed before the faerzress began to give way. Fortunately, during that time, no other unexpected bouts of psychosis occurred. And with the faerzress's absence, the escaped prisoners found themselves plunged into darkness once more. Eldeth resumed her post as Balasar's guide.
The oppressive tunnel gradually widened before yielding to a chasm of untold proportions. The party had at long last reached the Silken Paths, a network of spider webs crisscrossing a 500-foot-deep, 2,000-foot-wide gorge that stretched for nearly five miles. The webs were ever-changing due to the spinning of the giant spiders that called the Silken Paths their home. This would be the escaped prisoners' greatest navigational challenge yet.
As they exited the tunnel and made for the crag's edge, the group realized that they were not alone. Upon the bluff were three short figures who appeared to be in deep discussion.
"Approach with caution," Fraeya warned the others first in Common, then Undercommon. The drow then added, "Quiet your step. Shuushar and I will go first."
"Bring me with you," Zelyra requested.
This, Fraeya agreed to. Now free from the chaotic influence of faerzress, the half-elf brought her hands before her and muttered a Druidic incantation under the breath. The group became encased within a shadowy dome of stealth and silence. It would not obscure them completely from the watchful eyes of others, but it would help them to be less conspicuous at any rate.
Quick and quiet, Fraeya, Zelyra, and Shuushar closed in on the three figures. The others would remain behind until Fraeya signaled to Sarith that all was well. Sixty feet. Forty-five feet. At thirty feet, the approaching trio got a more telling view. While they did not recognize two of the figures, the third was quite familiar to them. Shuushar smiled a sharp-toothed smile and silently pointed a fleshy finger at the third individual.
"It's Jimjar," Zelyra breathed.
Sure enough, there was no mistaking their missing svirfneblin companion with his bald head, bulbous nose, and cunning smile. In his right hand, he deftly flicked a round, shiny piece of metal—a gold piece. Where on Toril he had managed to find coin of that caliber on their journey was an absolute mystery. But even more peculiar were the two strangers whom Jimjar was engaged with—a pair of goblins. They were nigh identical except for their height. Both had flat faces, sloped back forehead, broad noses, long, pointed ears, and small, sharp fangs. Their skin color too was alike, a rusted orange, and their eyes glinted a bright gold. They were dressed in dark leathers soiled by poor hygiene and accented by tattered cloth colored in similar rusted tones to their skin.
Jimjar suddenly turned and looked at his companions, as if he'd known they were there all along. Perhaps he had. The svirfneblin called out, "There you all are! I've been waiting for you to catch up for over an hour! What took you so long?"
"What took us so long?" Fraeya exclaimed incredulously. "Where were you? You just took off!"
"I've been here," the svirfneblin replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Call the others forward. Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait mean no harm. I have arranged for them to guide us through the Silken Paths."
Goblins were known for their short tempers and sweeping sense of greed. Jimjar was quite brave to engage them alone and braver still to strike up a deal, even if he'd had no other choice. With only slight trepidation, Fraeya turned and signaled to Sarith.
When the two groups met on the crag, a ripple of surprise and greeting broke out amongst the escaped prisoners at seeing Jimjar unharmed. The deep gnome waved to his companions before gesturing to the pair of goblins, "Everyone, this is Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait. They call themselves Web Runners. Nobody knows the Silken Paths like they do, and they've agreed to guide us to the closest tunnel that will lead us to Sloobludop."
The taller goblin bowed, "I am Yuk Yuk."
"And I am Spiderbait," the squat one echoed.
Their voices were as pitched and squeaky as Buppido's but decidedly more refined.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Kazimir stepped forward and said politely. "What do we owe you for your troubles? I'm afraid we don't have much coin."
"Your friend has already covered our fee," Yuk Yuk answered, a sly grin forming on his lips. And as if to prove the point, Jimjar flicked the single gold piece in the goblin's direction. Yuk Yuk caught it with ease and said, "While we usually charge two gold per day, Jimjar tells us that you are on the run from the drow. We hate drow. One gold will do. For now."
Fraeya and Sarith both shifted uncomfortably.
"Is it a problem that two drow elves travel with us?" Prince Derendil inquired, having noticed Fraeya and Sarith's discomfort.
A ripple of surprise swept over Spiderbait's features at hearing a quaggoth speak so elegantly. This was a strange group, indeed. After a moment, the goblin answered, "Drow on the run from other drow. That intrigues us. There is a story there, I'm sure."
"Ye don't even know the half of it," Eldeth muttered under her breath.
Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait spent a few minutes explaining how to walk on the webs. It was difficult and hazardous but not impossible. The chasm had numerous passages and tunnels leading away from it, but most were not on the same level and there was not always a web strand leading directly to it. Sometimes, climbing and crossing over several different sloping strands would be required.
The goblins themselves carried gourds of grease with them that they applied to their feet to 'surf' the webbing. The grease allowed them to traverse the webs at twice the speed they normally could. However, as the escaped prisoners were only paying half the goblin's usual fee, they were not about to share any of their grease. And that was likely for the best. For someone not experienced, it would be quite easy to lose control and slip off the web. It was a very long fall to the bottom of the chasm.
"Exactly how long will we be on the webs?" Balasar asked, already dreading every moment of it.
"That depends on what we encounter," Yuk Yuk answered. "If all is clear we can get you to your desired tunnel before it is time for your evening's rest. If not, it's hard to say."
Balasar swallowed thickly. It was not the most reassuring of responses.
And then there was another problem. Balasar could not see. When the dragonborn brought up that concern to the rest of the party, Kazimir conjured four floating orbs of pale blue light. But as soon as the light appeared, the goblins began to panic.
"No light!" Yuk Yuk screeched.
Spiderbait likewise cried, "Put it out! Put it out!"
Kazimir immediately dismissed the orbs.
"Light attracts the spiders! We travel in darkness," Yuk Yuk insisted.
"How am I to traverse that if I cannot see?" Balasar asked, gesturing out to the darkened expanse. He then turned to Eldeth, "I don't think you can guide me this time."
Eldeth nodded, "I think yer right."
Zelyra removed her pack and began to riffle through it, searching for a special vial. One that she had vowed only to use in time of grave need. As her fingers closed around the smooth glass, she saw little other option than to offer it to the dragonborn. "I might be able to help with that," she proposed.
Balasar looked blindly in the direction of her voice. "How?" he asked.
Zelyra reached for Balasar's scaled hand and gently guided him over to a large rock. "Just sit here, please." Balasar sat. The druid then removed the stopper from the vial, poured some of the contents out onto a spare rag, and pressed the wet rag into the dragonborn's hands. "Place this over your eyes and hold it there for a few minutes," she instructed.
Balasar did as she bade but could not help asking, "How is this going to help?"
"I can give you darkvision to match ours," the druid replied. "Now, if I can just remember the incantation…"
"You've known this magic all along?" Balasar demanded, unable to keep the accusation out of his tone.
But Zelyra did not take offense. Instead, she sternly justified, "This water is precious. It comes from the blessed streams of my village and must be used sparingly. Until now, your sight has not been a necessity."
Balasar couldn't argue with that. If the water did indeed come from her village on the surface, the druid could not procure more. Eldeth could help him navigate through tunnels easily. But on the Silken Paths, his sight could be the difference between safely navigating the web and a very long fall to his death. "How did you come to learn this magic?" he then asked, effectively chastised.
"We…use this ritual on our human rangers and fighters during overnight scouting missions to give them vision equal to their elven counterparts," Zelyra explained. "Like a dragonborn, humans cannot see well in the dark."
There was a sadness that crept into her tone that was not lost upon the dragonborn. With the rag still pressed to his eyes, Balasar remarked, "You say that as if it's a bad thing."
"No, it's not that…" Zelyra chewed on her lip. "Thinking of the sentries, it is just a reminder of what I've left behind."
"How so?" the dragonborn pressed, his tone casual and conversational.
Almost absently, the druid admitted, "There is one ranger whose company I miss."
"The tales have always depicted Laucian as an elven druid. Like you," Eldeth cut in, appearing precipitously at Balasar's side. Zelyra startled. Though, she should have known Eldeth would take interest in anything related to the dragonborn. They seemed to be tied to the hip.
"He is," Zelyra sputtered after a moment.
"So, this is someone else," Eldeth pushed curiously.
Balasar found himself enjoying the fact that he was not the only one whom Eldeth could twist into spilling their guts. She was cleverly direct in that regard. "Who's Laucian?" he asked.
"Nobody," Zelyra stonewalled.
"What about this ranger?"
"A friend. I shouldn't have said anything."
But this time, the druid's reddened cheeks belied her answer. Eldeth chuckled lowly, "Ah, I see. Yer secret is safe with me—if it be a secret."
"And me," Balasar echoed.
"Just answer me this, is he handsome?" the shield dwarf drawled.
Zelyra wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground. "Well, I think so," she squeaked.
Balasar and Eldeth both laughed openly. After a moment, Balasar sobered. "All the more reason for you to make it back to the surface if you've got someone special waiting for you." Zelyra didn't have the heart to correct him. Given the way they parted, she very much doubted that Varan gladly awaited her return.
Eldeth mistook the druid's guilt-ridden face for grief—which it was, in a way. "We're just teasing ye. Have to get some laughs in this gods' forsaken place."
"Surely I am not the only one. You all must have family or friends awaiting your return to the surface," Zelyra insisted, eager to be out of the limelight.
Eldeth sighed, "Me sister, Mira. And a hearty band of other shield dwarves. What about you, champion?" she asked Balasar.
The dragonborn fumbled for an answer. "I was raised in the fighting pits of Gracklestugh. If I have family out there, I wouldn't know where to find them."
Zelyra inhaled sharply. Eldeth was more disciplined and quickly redirected the conversation. Turning to Zelyra, she calmly said, "So, ye are to give him darkvision. How long does he have to hold the rag there?"
Zelyra was thankful for the change of subject. It had not been her intention to drudge up bad memories. "Just a moment more," she answered and began to mutter the incantation under her breath in the language of her people. To the dragonborn and dwarf, who knew not Druidic, the foreign cadence was strange but pleasant to listen to.
At last, Zelyra directed Balasar to remove the rag.
"How be yer sight, champion? Can ye see?" Eldeth asked excitedly.
Balasar blinked. The world around him appeared in shades of grey, black, and white but he could see despite there being no light. Was this what the others experienced on a day-to-day basis? The dragonborn could not help but marvel at that. He saw clearly now the expanse of webbing that filled the chasm before him. It was just as terrifying as he'd imagined.
"Let's just get this over with," Balasar said, rising to his feet. "The sooner we make it back onto solid ground, the better, in my opinion."
Zelyra placed a hand on the dragonborn's arm. "Just…don't be alarmed here in a few minutes okay. I understand your unease with spiders."
Balasar narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning?"
"You'll see. Just promise not to scream, okay?" was the druid's vague reply.
Eldeth and Zelyra exchanged a knowing glance. The dwarf gave a firm nod of her head, understanding Zelyra's plan.
As the trio rejoined the group at large, they found Kazimir casually chatting up the goblins. "So, how exactly does one get into this profession?" the wizard asked curiously.
"It's a good way to make coin," Spiderbait answered as he patted the coin purse on his belt. "Not many know their way through. You'd be surprised what people are willing to give up to know they'll make it safely to the other side."
"Ah, but has anyone ever offered their firstborn?" Kazimir said with a comedic snap of his fingers.
Yuk Yuk tapped his chin. "Well, there was that crazy sorceress one time…"
Kazimir's eyes grew wide. "I was joking!"
The goblin grinned ferally and said, "So was I." And with that, Yuk Yuk slapped a bit of grease on the bottom of his feet and leapt out onto the webs. Spiderbait followed suit.
"I suppose that's our cue," Prince Derendil snorted as he patted the wizard amiably on the shoulder.
"That was a good joke. Wasn't it, prince?" Kazimir returned.
Prince Derendil shrugged. "I thought it was funny."
One by one, the escaped prisoners followed Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait, testing their balance out on the gleaming strands of spun silk. The goblins made it look all too easy. Fraeya and Sarith adjusted to web walking surprisingly well. But others, like Kazimir, took on the likeness of a newborn foal as they fumbled their way along on shaky legs. Despite their fragile appearance, however, the strands were remarkably strong. They easily held up to the combined weight of Prince Derendil and Balasar who both were well over 7-foot-tall and not so sprightly in terms of weight.
As the last one upon the crag, Zelyra watched her traveling companions take to the challenging terrain. She would be using a different method of web walking; one that she hoped might benefit the group. Zelyra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She imagined the form of a large eight-legged creature with pinchers for teeth and far too many eyes. Her bones then began to pop and crack as her half-elven form transmuted into that of a giant spider.
Already out on the webs, Balasar watched the transfiguration. He knew it was merely a trick of druid magic. But the dragonborn still could not hold back the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight. He now understood the half-elf's earlier warning and felt slightly demoralized that his fear was spiders was so apparent.
"Ye okay?" Eldeth called out from a nearby strand.
Balasar swallowed thickly. "As long as she stays far, far from me—yes."
The shield dwarf rolled her eyes but cracked a smile, nonetheless.
Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait sped ahead on their grease-slick feet. Zelyra, in her spider form, scurried on their heels and kept a keen eye out for danger ahead. Her spider form granted her the vital ability of web sense. Should any other creature come in contact with a web she was on, the druid would know.
Three hours passed. And in those three hours, the traveling troupe only trekked a mile of their three-and-a-half-mile long journey. Having already spent a good portion of their 'morning' to reach the Silken Paths, the escaped prisoners would likely have to push on past their usual point of rest. But the loss of sleep was worth it, in their opinion. No one, not even Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait, wished to camp out on the webs.
Around the five-hour mark, Zelyra felt a slight tremor on the web. It was a strange sensation, resembling the vibration of a tightly wound piece of string. At this point, she had traveled slightly ahead of the goblins and her traveling companions. Yuk Yuk and Spiderbait were perhaps thirty feet behind her, and the rest were another thirty feet behind the goblins. The transformed druid froze and concentrated on the tremor while peering into the gloom. There was active movement on the webs some forty feet ahead of her. Three giant spiders were hard at work, spinning their gossamer thread and cocooning…something.
Two somethings, if Zelyra's eight arachnid eyes did not deceive her.
One form was squat and stout with a shock of brown hair. A pair of strange, bulbous goggles covered his eyes. The other form was taller, lither, and distinctively female with dark auburn hair pulled back into a tight braid, not unlike Zelyra's.
And neither was moving.
[1] … the ritual that exiled the Ilythiiri dark elves from the sunlit lands of the World Above during the Fourth Crown War—the same infamous ritual that not only affected the Ilythiirians, but all dark elves.
I wanted to put a side note here for anyone not familiar with Forgotten Realms lore as this gets into some deeper stuff. For anyone who cares, I am paraphrasing from the history section of the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide.
The Crown Wars was a series of wars that broke out [some thirteen thousand years ago] amongst the ancient elven kingdoms of Faerûn—Aryvandaar, Ardeep, Ilythiir, Eaerlann, and Miyeritar. Lasting some three thousand years, it nearly led to the destruction of the elven race. The conflicts culminated with an event known as the Dark Disaster, in which terrible storms destroyed the kingdom of Miyeritar and left a wasteland that is in present-day known as the High Moor. Aryvandaar was blamed for the storms, though it was never officially proven.
In the wake of the Dark Disaster, [the vengeful dark elves of Ilythiir turned to corrupt and demonic powers and unleashed them upon Aryvandaar.] The elves of Aryvandaar prayed to Corellon Larethian and the gods of the elven pantheon for salvation. Corellon Larethian interceded. With the help of high mages and clerics of Aryvandaar, the Illythiir were ultimately [cursed so that they might never dwell comfortably under the sun.]
This led to an event known as the Descent of the Drow as the curse did not just affect the dark elves of Illythiir, but all drow elves. In less than two months' time, they retreated from the World Above to the darkened expanse of the Underdark. Betrayed by Corellon Larethian's hand in their curse, they abandoned all loyalty to the elven gods and instead turned to a bringer of chaos, Lolth, the Demon Queen of Spiders.
Phew. There's a bit of a history lesson for you.
[2] Faerzress. Holy hell is it hard to explain. I have found that there is very little information out there. Even the campaign module is vague, only stating that bad things happen whenever the characters encounter it. But what is it really? Is it something you just feel? Can you see it, touch it? The way we initially played it off in our game was that it was like a glowing radioactive fungus, but I don't know if that is correct. I hope I did an okay job explaining it. Feedback is appreciated!
A little slow going but a lot of conversation and character development in a decently long chapter. I hope it makes up for my lack of updating recently. Many of you have commented on my balancing of so many characters. Now you're probably thinking—my god, she's adding even more! Whoops. Such as the story goes.
Fair warning, the next chapter is filled with action. So, if this wasn't quite your cup of tea, I promise the next will switch things up.