Chapter Twenty
They took their time to study the group and devise a proper strategy to approach it, content to simply be able to watch from the shelter of trees at first; the Shaaryan woman looked a bit disconcerted by this detail at first, but then she just shrugged it away. The priests currently knelt on the ground in front of them weren't as numerous as Knave would have expected by the size of Amirah's band of brigands, although he understood why she had taken so many men with her as soon as he saw what they were up against. Eight of the priests looked like versed fighters, all wielding two-headed flails and wearing full suits of plate armor, as well as horned helms. It was only a natural conclusion to come to that numeric advantage was their only chance to win against a group whose members could easily heal each other or cast mind and movement affecting spells on their adversaries.
The ninth priest was obviously their leader; his armor's chest piece was decorated with the symbol of Talos, three bolts of lightning whose tips converged into the same point as they fell down upon a line supposed to depict the ground. Instead of a helm, his head was hidden in the deep cup of a pointed gray hood belonging to his heavy cloak, an item that obviously bore enchantments in the runes drawn on its back. He was holding his spear clasped between his hands in prayer, its tip aimed upwards, but he would no doubt be ready for combat at any point, just like the others; obviously, this last one was a Stormlord. If the legends were true, he would have been hit by lightning at one point in life and survived that unconceivable experience.
"None of that Magic Missile crap. I want you to cast powerful spells," Amirah explained to the three mages. "Spells that can individually kill or incapacitate one opponent. My men will keep them busy enough for you to work your way through those complicated incantations." She looked at them to make sure they had understood, and smirked. "If you're capable, of course."
"We might have a few," Knave shrugged innocently. "The great part is I might just miss and hit you instead... wouldn't that be a shame?"
"Don't push your luck, fool," Amirah snapped at him deftly. "Without me, whichever party wins will dispose of you, and you know that."
Knave only smiled to her with unaffected nonchalance. "Will try to," he corrected sensibly.
"Fine, boast away," the Shaaryan woman rolled her eyes at him, not needing to make it any more obvious she knew he was teasing her and wasn't impressed. "Remember: the leader stays alive, as our captive." She turned and began making for her own men, to place the last orders.
"Wasn't our situation hopeless enough without you doing that?" Xan asked the human a few moments later, when no other pair of ears could hear, except Nirra's. He sighed deeply; there had been no trace of reproach in his voice, only mournful regret for a life he was sure to lose soon.
"Trust me, my friend," Knave patted his shoulder sympathetically. "We're not gonna die."
"I wish I could tell you your hopes were well founded," the moon elf replied with a shrug. "But I would be lying."
"It's not wrong to hope," Nirra stepped into the conversation, as gentle as usual. "Hope fills the heart with strengths that otherwise wouldn't be there."
"And it also makes things worse when the expectations are not met," Xan replied hollowly, adamant about his view of things.
"Let's just concentrate," Knave ended the whole charade. "I'm sure having this dialogue is even less useful than hoping."
Indeed, when they looked back at the group of priests, they saw Amirah had given the signal and was now stepping out of the bushes and into the small clearing that hosted the Talassans. Her cohorts followed suit, in a way Knave wouldn't have imagined to be possible; they were actually being silent and stealthy. Trying not to stare in awe at the nearest pair of half-orcs, the three mages remained behind and were the last to approach. They kept to the shadows, waiting for whatever discussion appeared to be pending between Amirah and the Stormlord.
None of the clerics bothered to look at the arrivals at first and the Shaaryan motioned for her men to stop for the time being; apparently she knew better than to abruptly deprive Talos of his followers' prayers and risk the Strom God's wrath. Finally, when enough homage had been paid, the leader used his spear for support to stand up swiftly; the other clerics took his example one by one, in a very disciplined and well coordinated fashion. They all eyed the brigands quietly, while the Stormlord's eyes, a mildly electric shade of blue, shone forth from the darkness inside the hood and stared intently at Amirah.
"I was expecting you, young one," came the words from the hidden pair of lips; it was a strong voice, obviously versed in leadership, so unlike those of the good-aligned clerics of, per example, Ilmater or Lathander. "And where is your family, if I may ask?"
"Our interests... split," Amirah retorted coolly, though mischief was clearly a resident of her tone at that point. "And, how odd, it seems mine found it fit to involve you in their little scheme."
"Tell the mages to come out," the Stormlord skipped right to the point, though he was highly ironical. "Or, what is that?" Looks like you don't need to anymore."
As Amirah was vaguely turning to look behind, her features contorted with rage and frustration at her own self and the mistake she had made. A considerably larger group of priests came out from the trees and quickly encircled her own band; three of them were securely dragging the mages with them, strong arms easily managing to hold the spellcasters, whose physiques weren't fit for situations like that.
"I'm terribly sorry," the Stormlord excused himself mockingly when Amirah's bloodlust-filled eyes turned upon him.
"I will never surrender," the Shaaryan woman replied sternly. "Men, attack!" The very next moment, a dagger in each hand, she had leaped at the priest and tumbled him to the ground; clenched together, the two began a struggle for control, so balanced that it would have been impossible to predict the winner. All around them, battle cries flowed forth from the men as they lunged at each other in groups, each party, fighter or priest, fiercely determined to kill. Only the three clerics holding the mages remained in place to continue keeping their prisoners' hands immobilized as they watched the small carnage.
"Stop this madness!" Knave shouted at the battling groups in a vain attempt to contain them.
He cast a worried glance to Nirra, as they and Xan seemed to be the only ones noticing how fast the wind had begun to blow, and how the trees howled sinisterly in the background as they cast their leaves out to the currents in disarray. The three Talassans holding them were enjoying the battle too much to pay any attention to their dialogue or concerns.
"We are doomed," Xan declared. "The forest itself is rebelling; nature will slay us all for causing this disturbance."
"I wouldn't go that far," Nirra said frowning, although her elven spirit could feel the fury of the surrounding forest as well as he could. "But certainly some great power is stirring."
"What are you talking about?" Knave's gaze shifted from one to the other, demanding an explanation.
"I'm not sure what it is," Nirra tried to explain, while Xan just managed to look even gloomier than usual. "A presence... in the trees..."
The human mage did not look comforted by that and squirmed abruptly; the priest who had him captive, lost in the frenzy of watching bloodshed and wishing he would be taking part, was caught unaware and toppled forward, while Knave escaped his grip agilely. A Magic Missile erupted from his hands the very next moment, stunning the Talassan when it hit his armor.
Just when he thought he was safe, Knave felt a strong hand grip his arm and someone forcefully pulled him down to his knees. "What do you think you're doing?"the man asked. It had been easy for the cleric to clasp both Nirra's fragile hands together in the grip of just one of his clenched fists and use the other hand to retain Knave. The next moment, the former captor was back to his feet and did not shy away from applying a swift kick to the mage's stomach before taking him back from his comrade.
Groaning, Knave had no choice but to recover from the blow as quickly as possible, when the Talassan almost ripped his arm out of its natural place in an attempt to pull him back to his feet. The human stood, ignoring the pain, as fire blazed deeply in his eyes although the rest of him looked docile and regretful about his former actions. Nirra's concerned, but scornful look was telling him not to attempt anything like that again; he pretended not to notice.
And it was then that the greater, older trees on the clearing's edges shifted; the earth shook as they abruptly pulled their roots out of the ground and used them as whips, slamming them back down. All who were still standing collapsed to the ground and rolled about frantically, unable to control their directions as the thumping continued to pour down heavily. White mist flooded into the scene from between the attacking trees and only when the spirits had formed completely did the roots cease the ordeal, falling limply back to the ground.
"You have disturbed this sacred forest enough," spoke a mighty, wind-carried voice, and the greatest of of the mists, whose shape was that of a large eagle, shifted closer to the spot where Amirah and the Stormlord remained clinging to each other and waging a silent, motionless war with their glaring eyes.
Their bodies were still tensely clenched together, each of them holding to the other fiercely as they looked one another in the eyes, none willing to cede first. The spirit loomed about them, its faint shadow befell both and only then did they seem to notice their 'spectator'; both looked up at the same time and let go of each other dismally, to crawl away in the grass. The mist-form seemed interested in the Talassan alone, for it was him that it pursued.
All about the clearing, men from both warring sides were beginning to perk up from the grass, rubbing their temples and blinking their disbelieving eyes at the group of bird and animal shaped spirits flying above their heads. The three left behind with the mages had fallen as well, along with their prisoners, and all were now coming back to their senses in quite different spots than the original ones. Knave found himself looking at Nirra and Xan across the whole scene; the moon elf was muttering something and the human had little doubt it was a reference to how hopeless and doomed they were.
Just then, to the left, another figure made its way into the clearing, a slender, sliver-haired woman with a raven that came from above the treetops and settled upon her shoulder. Right behind, three more elves stopped to catch their breaths from so much running, and these Knave recognized all too well; Nirra and Xan did too, for they both startled and went through a quick exchange of words. When they had gathered enough breath, the three arrivals began scanning the place as well and it wasn't long before they had discovered their friends. None had any more time to react, though, for the greatest of the spirits spoke again.
"What have you to say in your defense?" demanded the angry mist eagle, towering above the stunned Stormlord.
"I..." the man replied and only those who were close, like Amirah and Knave, were able to hear. "I am unaware of my crime." A weaker mind would have given in faced with so much pressure, but not the priest who had theoretically survived a strike of lightning. Knave noticed his hood had fallen off in the struggle and he looked old and weary, though he knew that to be delusive.
"Your recklessly used magic has disturbed the forest greatly!" roared the spirit, as it turned and its oversized eagle head came to face the cleric directly. All around, his men were praying to their God for salvation, but apparently not even Talos would stand against nature's unleashed wrath.
"We were not aware of that," the Stormlord defended humbly, not taking too much pain to hide his fear.
"You shall suffer the consequences, as is rightful!" the eagle decreed. The other spirits shifted and all darted off at once, sweeping the clerics, dead and alive, off the ground in a single mighty wave, while the others were spared.
The terrified men screamed desperately, but they were all carried forth and lifted above the trees, and soon the whole group vanished from sight along with the spirits themselves. The rest were left sitting there, none daring to move as a rain of dislocated leaves poured down on them and covered the tumbled grass with a mantle of different greens.
Eventually, they all noticed there had been more witnesses to this last scene: two tall men, their skin the same color as Amirah's and their features similar to hers, identical with each other's. Standing between them, proud, though visibly shaken, was an aged woman wearing a long blue dress and holding a staff in one hand.
The first to move was Amirah herself. "Blast it!" cursed the woman as she darted to her feet. Furiously, she began to skip through the newly formed thickness of the carpet, kicking leaves away at every step; no doubt, she was searching for her daggers. In the unsuccessful process, she came to stand before the three new figures, casting hateful glances to all. "Why are you here?" she asked coldly. "The ring is mine!" A small gesture and, one by one, her hired hands began to stand up, forming a silent threat to any who would show they intended to stand against her.
"The ring is the family's, Amirah," the elder woman replied calmly. Her graying hair and weary body did not make her look subdued to her younger interlocutor at all.
"No, 'mother'," the Shaaryan leader made it quite obvious she disagreed, as well as how she loathed her relation with the other woman. "You fools are not conscious of the powers that reside within it. You are merchants. Go back to running our late father's business if you know what's best for you."
"We will not," one of the young men replied decidedly; obviously, the twins were Amirah's little brothers, although their height begged to differ. Only an experienced eye, who was careful enough to study their facial expressions, could have said that their sister was older than them, and Knave's was that eye.
"The gold elf has the ring at the moment," Amirah gave in with a sigh and pointed to Nirra. Then, she shook her head. "Fools!" she hissed, her anger flaring back up the next instant. She grabbed her mother's arm and ushered her three relatives into the forest; her men began to follow, but she waved them away, making it clear they should remain and guard the group of adventurers.
The family reunion's departure seemed to remind the companions, who were now standing, that despite how interesting the entire scene was, they had found each other again and were supposed to react. All three parties involved rushed to the center of the clearing, while the half-orcs and centaurs silently posted themselves at the edges, watching.
Nirra and Torri were in each other's arms in no time, and shared a brief, but enthusiastic hug. Then, side by side, they surveyed the others and each seemed to remember something in turn.
"Ivendil!" the gold elf cried in delight, darting away from Torri to throw herself into the archer's welcoming arms.
The wood elf, was, in turn, less surprised but not any less enchanted to see her and he received her warmly, stroking her hair gently as she clung to his neck. He smiled and whispered a few elven words to her, unheard by anyone else.
At the time time, the two moon elves stared at each other. "...Xan?" Torri asked incredulously, almost as if she was unsure of what her eyes showed her.
"Toreen," the purple-robed mage nodded, a bit less surprised, having in mind he had already known she was in the area. "You are... alive." One of his eyebrows came up with a bit of disbelief, and he glanced to the drow for a moment.
"As much an optimist as ever, mellonamin," Torri shook her head and grinned, perhaps at the happiest Knave had ever seen her. None seemed to notice they were, unlike Nirra and Ivendil, using Common, by reflex.
All in all, Knave was left with Solaufein. "Welcome back?" the mage smirked to the drow, nudging him in a friendly manner. "And ease away, you're safe now."
The drow attempted a brief, polite smile, although he still kept looking about, trying to find something that obviously wasn't there anymore.
"The silver-haired girl that came with you," the human understood immediately, driven by his own curiosity. "Who was she?"
"I'm not sure," Solaufein replied, turning to face him.
As the two pairs of reunited elves shared tales of their most recent whereabouts and each inquired of what they wished to know from the other, the drow took time to recount their meeting with the lythari to the human. Overall, they all had enough to discuss; just as much as the family settling their own problems some good feet away into the forest.