A/N: "Spiritual Wrath" and its visual description and damage are from the game Icewind Dale II and not Player's Handbook 3.5. No flogging please.

Chapter Five

Melcer and his two guards prepared for battle on the shore of Medelbar Lake—if such a small body of water deserved the title of lake. Two swans floated gracefully on the algae-tinted water, along with a flock of ducks which broke the silence with quacking. The scene should have evoked tranquility in Melcer's soul, yet he felt pure fear. What if he failed to capture the half elf? What if he let his brother down?

Melcer shook his head, picked up a smooth stone from the shore, and skipped it across the water. He couldn't afford such negative thoughts. While he'd used magic in direct battle only twice, he'd performed beautifully both times. Besides, he'd been practicing magic since age five, performing spells not only for Lander but also for their parents before they'd been killed. He had nothing to fear.

And yet the anxiety would not leave, twisting his stomach like a dishrag and sending live coals burning through his veins.

"Lander," he whispered, then glanced back at the two soldiers to see if they'd overheard. The men were sitting on a boulder further back form the shore, sharpening their blades. Satisfied, Melcer turned back around and stared at the swans bobbing on the lake. "Lander, how can I get out from under your shadow?"

Being Lander's brother had not been easy—Lander, the natural warrior, leader, and strategist. Their parents had been insanely proud since they were Zhent soldiers and spies themselves. They understood Lander, appreciated his prowess, which promised to surpass their own. They hadn't understood the book-obsessed Melcer, and he had resented that. Yet when they had died, Melcer was all alone in the world except for his brother, and he'd found himself taking care of his older twin, who had suffered nightmares as a child and fits of depression as an adult. Realizing his twin was not superhuman, Melcer's antagonism had faded, and he'd thrown himself into the role of protector and supporter.

But now he had momentarily traded roles with Lander, becoming the hunter and warrior—the one who had to carry out the centerpiece of their plan.

Melcer shook the thoughts away. There was only one option for this venture: overwhelming success. His talents as a wizard were equally useful, without a doubt.

"Are you ready, sir?" one of the soldiers yelled.

Melcer faced them and smiled. "Yes." His spells were prepared, his materials in his robe pockets, and his spellbook in his small pack.

"Then shall we attack them in Zelbross?" the man asked.

"No," the wizard said. "I've been scrying them, so I know they will not overnight there. We'll ambush them as they leave. Remember, capturing the girl without harming her is our main mission."

Both men nodded.

Melcer could hear his heart beat as though it were in his ears—a drum beating inside his brain. Now was the time. "Then let's go."

Tai glanced around the bustling inn said to be the best in Zelbross and realized with some mirth that everything was made of deer antlers: the chandeliers were many antlers wired together, the chair tops were capped with antler pieces, and deer heads hung on every square inch of the walls. Even the door handles were constructed from antler pieces. With the cedar walls, floor, and rafters, Tai felt like he stood in a massive deer coffin.

"Homey," Tai said as a waitress seated Miri, Darvin, and him.

The sarcasm was lost on the young woman. "Thank you, sir. Would you like ale?"

Miri ordered white wine instead, and Tai opted for fresh lemonade. Darvin, however, accepted the offer of ale, specifying honeymead.

"Lemonade?" Darvin asked, smirking, after the waitress left.

Tai blinked at him, unaware what fault lemonade could have. "Of course. There's nothing better at the end of a hot day than lemonade." He stopped to think about it. "Or lemon cookies. Or lemon meringue pie, lemon custard pie, lemon chess pie, lemon chiffon pie, buttermilk lemon pie . . ."

Miri laughed. "I guess I know what you'll have for dessert."

Tai smiled at her, painfully happy to have this one normal meal with her before they set out for Secomber. After much discussion, they'd decided to move on to a larger town than Zelbross, and one further away from the Stonars.

Darvin snorted. "Forget the dessert. Right now all I'm interested in is a fat steak with an equally fat potato smothered in butter. And perhaps some corn."

Miri shook her head. "I never have been able to get you to eat anything other than cheese and fruit for dessert." She stood. "Order the house specialty for me, gentlemen. We may not be staying overnight here, but I'm at least going to clean up while they prepare our food."

Tai and Darvin both stood.

"You shouldn't go alone," Darvin said.

Miri waved him away. "I'll let Stormrider in through the window. He'll guard me; don't worry." She turned away without further discussion and headed toward the stairs.

The men sat down again.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," Tai said, crossing his arms.

Darvin sighed. "I can agree with you on that."

The waitress arrived with their drinks and took their orders, leaving Tai to stare at Darvin. The sun was setting, throwing the tavern into partial shadow. One such shadow obscured half of Darvin's face, making him look extra sour. The half elf almost reminded Tai of Entreri, except the assassin's surly moods seemed to dwell in the pit of his soul, as though his entire worldview had been exploded at a young age. Darvin, however, seemed merely arrogant and petulant, like a child who had lost a piece of candy.

"What?" Darvin snapped, turning a sudden glower upon Tai. "Why are you staring at me?"

Tai took a deep breath, schooling himself to patience and beginning to form a polite response that would negotiate peace and understanding. Nothing would be gained from returning that anger; Tai's entire life was a testament to that. And yet, Darvin was just so hateful, Tai wished for once . . .

"Well?" Darvin demanded, still glaring. "Are you just going to keep staring at me?"

Tai exhaled in a clipped sigh and just glared back. "I'm attempting to figure out why you decided to instantly hate me."

Darvin blinked, as though he'd expected anything but this direct approach. "I don't need your help protecting Miri." He smoothed down his white robes—a second pair he'd been carrying in his backpack, given that his first pair had been destroyed in their earlier battles. "If anything, I think having you around makes us more conspicuous. We could have passed as husband and wife or as siblings without you."

That was the dumbest thing Tai had ever heard, and the image of Miri and Darvin even pretending to be married grated on his nerves. "What difference would that make? The Stonars know exactly what Miri looks like—you can call yourselves whatever you like, and it won't fool them."

"But they're not here," Darvin replied. "Only their soldiers."

"Who are no doubt guided by the Stonar who is the wizard, so once again we're back to the fact that they can find her no matter what."

Darvin pointed his finger in Tai's face with a look of victory. "In that case, we may as well have stayed home, and you should have never been hired!"

Darvin was pointing a finger in his face as though he were a small child? The audacity! "Master Brightwood felt that the further away she was, the safer she'd be. There is too much Zhent activity in your home town."

Darvin dropped his hand and sat back. "And what does Hoar tell you?" he snarled, the left corners of his nose and mouth twisting up.

Tai instinctively put his hand over the symbol of Hoar which was sewn on his royal blue cloak. Why was he asking such a pointed question about Hoar? "Nothing specific."

"Well," Darvin began, lifting his chin, "the Assurian Codex—"

"Is a fine collection of writings," Tai interrupted, instantly irritated. "But Hoar never meant for his priests and followers to obsess over each and every code and example recorded there. You sound like a Tyrist! Do you not see who our god is? Do you not realize it is possible to so overly focus on a code that you miss the whole spirit behind it?"

Darvin jumped to his feet, causing his chair to fly backwards. "Don't you dare preach to me, country boy!"

"Country boy?" How was Darvin's home any less rural than his own, and what did Darvin know about it anyway? Tai stood as well and faced down the arrogant priest. "Well, maybe what you need is a wake up call from a country boy. Do you even listen for Hoar's voice anymore, or are you just going through the ritual?"

Darvin's pale blue eyes seemed to darken into the electric blue of a candle flame. "Don't. You. Ever. Insult. Me!" He clenched his fists. "I am a far superior priest now that you'll be in fifty years!" He struck out, driving a right hook at Tai's jaw.

Tai hadn't even realized he'd shifted into a defensive fighting stance; the pure rage flowing from Darvin had triggered the response automatically. At the punch, Tai blocked with his left arm, but it was a fraction too late. Darvn's fist hit at an angle, skimming his jaw and throwing him backwards into the table. Tai steadied himself, but the drinks toppled over at the impact. From behind him, Tai heard a woman scream, and several men let out whoops.

Without even thinking, Tai struck back—after months of intense fighting at the sides of Nyx, Entreri, and Jarlaxle, he reacted by instinct. He jabbed Darvin in the jaw with a quick upper cut, knocking him into the empty table behind him. Darvin shook his head and vaulted forward, knocking Tai into the floor, then straddling him and grabbing him by the neck. The pressure against his Adam's apple tickled Tai's memory, and then suddenly, he experienced a mental flash of his rape, during which Mordecai had choked him.

Overcome with rage and fear, Tai grabbed a fistful of Darvin's robes, bucked up his hips, tucked one leg, and rolled. Darvin lost his balance, and in seconds Tai was on top. He hiked back his fist and slugged Darvin in the cheek with all his strength.

Darvin cried out in pain and forced them into another roll, which Tai immediately threw off. Within moments, the men had rolled across floor and hit the bottom step of the staircase, their entire fight egged on by yells and clapping from the other dinners.

Except one.

"Stop it!"

Tai, who was back on top, looked up to see Miri standing on the second to bottom stair. Both he and Darvin ceased immediately.

Miri stared down at them, her eyes hooded. "Grow up." She crossed her arms. "The whole point of civilization is that people don't act like animals. So quit your territorial marking and get up off the floor."

Without even replying, Tai and Darvin let go of each other and stood up. Darvin smoothed down his white robes methodically and stared at his feet.

Tai faired little better. His face burning with embarrassment, he straightened out his cloak and bowed deeply to Miri. "I'm so terribly sorry, Miri-sema," he said, defaulting to the highest honorific of his culture. "I didn't intend to insult or humiliate you."

There was a pause of silence, and then out of the corner of his vision, Tai saw Darvin bow slightly.

"Yes, I'm sorry, Miri. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I only forgive you on the condition that the two of you never fight again," Miri said.

Tai straightened and looked into her face. Her expression had eased, but he could tell she was both worried and angry. He would have to apologize again later when Darvin wasn't too close by.

Miri walked past them to their table, and Tai looked at the stiff and embarrassed Darvin. The half elf merely turned his back and trailed Miri.

Tai sighed. So much for a relaxed supper. And it was his fault. If he'd retained his patience, the fight likely wouldn't have occurred, and Miri wouldn't be upset. But the two impulses warred within him: the part that enjoyed punching Darvin repeatedly, and the part that knew violence wasn't the answer. Wrath and pride versus wisdom and maturity . . .

"No one said it would be easy," Tai muttered, and followed after the two half elves.

Entreri and Nyx surveyed the room of mirrors with unease, and Nyx ran her hands over the mirror which covered where the door had been. The glowing crystals in the ceiling were reflected all around the room, bathing the floor with a mauve, blue, and lavender haze.

"I don't like this," Nyx said.

Growling at the trap, Entreri unsheathed his sword, preparing to break the mirror, but the room began spinning around him, the mirrors twisting into a silver blur before righting themselves again. Suddenly, Entreri was alone in a box of mirrors, and Nyx was nowhere in sight. The mirror beside him glowed with a mauve light, and he was confronted with a scene: he saw himself as an eight-year-old child. He sat alone at the supper table, staring at the scraps of stale bread his father had left for him to eat, and his uncle had sat on the bench him.

"Be good now," he whispered, reaching out a hand to touch Entreri's leg. "You want to please me, right?" The hand continued to travel up his leg, and the emaciated child grabbed his uncle's wrist, trying in vain to halt the assault.

"Stop!" he screamed.

"Stop?" his uncle said. "Why? It's your fault this is happening in the first place. If you weren't such a bad child, I wouldn't be forced to treat you this way."

The scene caused a burning sensation, both steaming and icy, to pulse through the assassin's veins and made his fingertips throb. It was too real—he could feel the rough wooden bench beneath his thighs, smell the whiskey on his uncle's breath, and even hear the shouts of free, happy children playing in the streets beyond. Worst of all, he could feel the calloused hand stroking up his bare leg.

With desperation, Entreri mentally pushed the memory away, not wanting to see what would come next, not wanting to acknowledge what came next. Inexplicable shame burned his face—absolute humiliation. He hit the mirror with his open palm and twisted away, facing the opposite direction. His heart pounded in his chest, feeling as though it would break his ribs. "What is this?" he growled.

But the mirror he now faced also glowed with a mauve light, showing him another scene from his past: his father chased him through the dirty streets, screaming at him. Entreri's scrawny legs were coated in dust and were trembling with the strain of escaping his father's violence, but the man showed no signs of giving up. The boy ducked into a sandy alleyway, trying to hide, and his knees shook with the effort of standing. Sweat poured down his dirt-smudged forehead, and his small chest heaved with gasps he tried to silence. The stench of urine, camel dung, and sweat filled the air, tempting Entreri to choke on the air he inhaled. His father was only a few feet away, cursing and stumbling from his drunkenness.

Entreri growled at the image, disgusted by the small, weak child he had been—powerless and unable to control his own destiny, at the mercy of another's sick and violent whims. He had managed to outsmart the oaf at times; other times, however . . .

Clenching his fists, Entreri punched the mirror with a solid left thrust, but although the mirror cracked, it didn't shatter. He turned away again, and this time the mirror before him glowed lavender.

"Now what?" In his anger, Entreri felt as though even a slow, torturous death wouldn't be heinous enough to punish the Stonars for this particular trap.

The image in the mirror took form, revealing a present-day version of Entreri. The assassin's brow furrowed as the details revealed themselves, showing him as a blind and crippled beggar, his left leg withered and sticking out at an odd angle as he sat in the dirt grasping at a rich priest's robes. The sun beat down upon his head, scorching his skin, and flies crawled upon his flesh.

"No!" Entreri commanded, rejecting the image with his soul. "I will never be that man!" He would never be powerless, dying under merciless hands. He had built himself up to the perfect warrior to secure safety from that very fate.

The scene expanded, revealing that the priest was Tai, and walking with him were Jarlaxle and Nyx, both of whom ignored Entreri.

"Rubbish," Entreri snarled, holding out his gauntleted hand in an attempt to defeat the magic. He felt resolute. Tai would never be that kind of man anymore than Entreri would be the beggar in the dust. If Entreri had ever doubted otherwise, he would have never accepted the priest as an ally, for there was nothing he hated more than self-righteous priests who violated their own codes of honor.

The mirror's image vanished under the gauntlet's pressure, and Entreri turned to the final mirror with a growing smirk. "I know your game."

The lavender light in the final mirror rippled and brought into focus a grey-haired Entreri. He stood over a cowering boy, yelling.

"You exist to please me, you worthless brat!" the old Entreri yelled. "You may be too stupid to know it, but when I give you an order, you follow it!" He punched the child with a heavy right hook, shattering the boy's cheekbone. The boy shrieked as he fell, blood splattering upon the wall, but old Entreri didn't stop. "Now, for the second time, lower your pants."

"Never!" the assassin said, disgusted by the image. Acid from his stomach burnt his sinuses as though he'd vomit. "I will never be that man, either!" He would never become what he hated most. Enraged beyond thought and comprehension, Entreri let loose and punched the mirror with both fists, pouring a lifetime's fury into the slugs. The glass shattered, cutting his uncovered fist and his face, and the box collapsed.

Entreri bent double, propping his hands on his knees as he panted. Sick bastards. How dare they show him such a cursed illusion! He straightened when he caught his breath, and wiped the blood from his face. Only then did he realize he was standing in the middle of the room beside another box. The mirrors on the wall were reflecting the glowing crystals on the ceiling, aiming beams of light into the box.

"Nyx!" Entreri yelled, banging on the outside of the box. "Nyx? Break the glass!"

"Artemis?" came a strangled voice.

At the sound of her voice, in truly struck Entreri that she was being tortured as well. He yelled again. "Yes! Listen to me. Break the glass." He stepped away and shielded his face, not knowing where she would smash the mirrors. The back of the box shattered, and the monk stumbled out, her complexion having lost what little color it normally possessed.

Nyx staggered over to Entreri and grabbed him by both arms. "You— Tai— The blood . . .!"

Him? Not just Tai? Her comment made no sense. Was her alliance with him more than just the typical goodly fool's loyalty? Feeling a touch strange, Entreri snaked his arms under and through hers, gently pushing her elbows outward until he broke her grasp. "It's just an illusion, not a prophecy. Don't accept it."

She stared at him with eyes so wide that he grabbed her shoulders and squeezed. He felt a confusing mix of emotions—one that wanted to respond to the fact she cared, and the other to tell her to get over it. "Your loyalty is commendable," he told her, realizing that she'd probably seen his and Tai's deaths, "but do not let them use it against you."

Her brow furrowed, and Entreri felt as though he were seeing the illusion fade from her mind. "Right. A trap." She lifted a hand to her temple. "It was odd. I saw my father being killed, and I saw myself at the monastery being—" She stopped abruptly. "I saw the past, and then what looked like the future."

"Not a prophecy," Entreri reiterated.

Nyx nodded. "You're right." She frowned at him. "Are you okay?"

The assassin realized he was still holding her shoulders and let go. "Yes." However, the images seemed to squirm inside his mind even as he spoke, as though they would eventually force themselves free. Entreri clenched his jaw and swallowed the emotions. He had to hold himself together, even if it only lasted a few days.

"If Jarlaxle really did go through this room—" Nyx began, then paused with a frown. "What hides in the corners of a drow's mind?"

The question hit Entreri squarely, and he cursed. Turning, he strode toward the far exit. "The darkest of the dark, I'm sure. Let's go find him."

"How much further?" Darvin asked, his tone grumpy.

Miri laughed and took his arm. "Don't say that. You sound like a child."

Tai had rear point, so he watched their familiarity with a tinge of envy. He yanked his emotions under control, however. Jealousy was unseemly, and it was clear that Miri merely considered Darvin a friend. Telling himself to grow up, Tai glanced around their surroundings, checking for movement amongst the tree trunks and brush. They were taking a trail to Secomber instead of walking the main road, but it didn't make Tai feel any safer. Night was falling, and the shadows seemed to blossom from the forest floor like black flowers.

Stormrider, Miri's wolf, had front point as usual. He seemed uneasy, and that disquieted Tai as well. The night was silent—unnaturally so. The air should have been filled with cricket chirps and toad croaks, but all Tai heard was the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Without warning, black rubbery tentacles erupted from the ground, snatching up Tai and Darvin and wrapping around their chests and neck. Tai managed to get his arm up in time to protect his throat.

"Miri!" he yelled, struggling against the crushing pressure.

Two soldiers and a man in wizard's robes stepped out from the trees. The man propped one hand on his hip and cocked his head. His black ponytail bobbed to the side. "You've caused my brother and me a great deal of trouble, little half-elf," he said.

Miri backed up a step. "One of the Stonars, I presume," she replied, raising her arms in a defensive stance.

"Melcer Stonar," the man said with a slight bow. He straightened and snapped his fingers. Tai watched in horror as the two soldiers responded by running toward Miri.

"Stormrider!" Miri called, and the wolf attacked the first soldier, clamping down on his arm and jerking his head back and forth in an attempt to rip it off. The soldier screamed and swung his sword at the animal, driving the blade straight through Stormrider's spine. The wolf yelped and thrashed before collapsing and dying.

"No!" Miri screamed, and Tai could hear the tears in her voice. She jumped backward and threw her arms up to the sky. "Heavens, I call upon your destructive power! Anaman!"

Wind tore through the trees, whipping off leaves and tossing Miri's pale hair. The sky turned pink as bruised clouds formed, then suddenly hail fell from the sky toward Miri's hands. She threw her arms forward, aiming the ice stones at the soldiers and Melcer. The hail opened gashes upon the soldiers, but Melcer was unharmed.

"Child," he hissed. He pulled crossbolts from his pockets, holding them between his fingers. With the other hand, he took a piece of flint and struck across their tips. "Somer!" The crossbolts flared into fiery arrows that he threw at Miri, but the druid dodged each strike.

Meanwhile, Tai and Darvin fought the rubbery tentacles. Tai pushed the tentacle around his neck further away so he could speak better. "In the name of Hoar, I dispel your power!" he said, drawing a circle in the air with his free hand. Instantly, the black plant disappeared, dropping the priests to the ground. The two injured soldiers noticed them and began to close in on their position.

Melcer, however, was deep into spell-casting. He had pulled a small glass globe from one pocket and was holding it before him. "May Otiluke's power fill this vessel," he said. The globe expanded into a shimmering sphere and encased Miri even as she began to cast a spell of her own.

"No!" Tai rushed forward, blocking a sword strike from the soldier with the mutilated arm. He buried his enchanted dagger into the man's chest, expelling lightning bolts into his chest. The man jerked, spit flying from his mouth, and collapsed. Tai yanked his dagger free and charged Melcer.

Melcer had faced him. "Impertinent child." He raised his hands.

Tai reached into his soul and touched the thread that connected him to Hoar. "In Hoar's name, I summon my ally!"

A flash of golden light lit the area as though a sunbeam had penetrated the earth. The ray expanded in a globe, and a dark form took shape inside. A bass roar rent the air as a black celestial bear stood on its hind legs and bellowed.

Melcer took several steps backward.

From the corner of his vision, Tai could see Darvin grappling with the final soldier. Darvin reached out and touched the man's chest, and a brilliant silver flash erupted from his fingertips. The soldier screamed and fell backward, blood erupting from his mouth.

Assured Darvin could handle himself, Tai marched toward Melcer, the bear in front of him. Melcer, however, was holding his hands palm up and chanting. The bear's form wavered like a rippling pond, and suddenly it snapped from existence, apparently sent back to its natural plane.

"Enough," Melcer said, pulling a wand from his robe.

Tai experienced a moment of panic. If he lost, hundreds of monsters would devastate the land. But more important to Tai—more real and immediate—was the fact Miri would be killed. He couldn't stand the thought of her face pale and her lips blue, of her eyes staring into nothingness. He grabbed hold of his connection to Hoar with all his soul and jerked all the divine power he could through his veins. He clenched his fists before him, locked his jaw, and growled. His entire chest burned, leaving him breathless.

Four azure balls formed around him, one before him, one behind, and one to each side. The balls elongated into thin bolts, and Tai forced all his soul behind the front one, aiming it at Melcer. All four bolts fired like streaks of blue lightening, each bolt perpendicular the next. A horizontal cross formed through Tai's body as the divine energy raced through him.

The front bolt caught Melcer directly in the stomach, throwing him back a dozen feet. The left-hand bolt grazed Darvin's shoulder, and he jumped away with a scream. The final two fired harmlessly into the trees.

The sphere holding Miri popped, and she landed gracefully on her feet. "Tai! Darvin!"

Melcer sat halfway up and croaked several indistinguishable words. In a flash of orange smoke, he vanished.

Tai whirled to Miri and caught her as she threw herself into his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Miri hugged him tightly. "Yes! I am, anyway." She squeezed again and then let him go. She glanced tearfully at Stormrider, then turned her attention to Darvin and rushed to his side. "Darvin! Are you hurt? Let me see . . ."

Tai smiled faintly, attempting to calm his breathing and his heart beat. Stonar had been severely injured, perhaps fatally so. Perhaps they had stopped the prophecy and the danger to Miri, but it was too soon to tell.

All Tai could do was pray.

Jarlaxle stopped running, easing himself into a walk by reminding himself that the room of mirrors had been a trap. Such a trap couldn't summon Lolth or one of her servants or otherwise harm him physically. Inhaling deeply, the drow tried to calm his breathing and remember his path. He'd come across a fork in the hallway as he'd run and taken a right. He'd have to retrace his steps to find Entreri, which meant going through the mirror trap again. Perhaps the trap was the kind that didn't reset automatically.

Having gotten himself under control, Jarlaxle started to turn around, but a flicker of light at the end of the hallway caught his eye. An exit? This would be valuable information, if so. He sneaked forward, careful of more traps, until he reached a doorway. The room beyond was a small circular one with a crimson spiral pattern on the white marble floor; in the middle of the spiral was a black circle. Beyond the pattern was a single door with sunlight shining around its cracks.

Distrusting the spiral pattern, Jarlaxle eased around the edge of the room toward the door, wanting to verify that the door truly was an exit. However, the emblem reacted to his presence and emitted a crimson glow, pulling him toward the black circle like a Roper. The circle morphed into a hole.

Jarlaxle fought against the pull, trying to draw his sword and drive it into the floor like a pick axe, but he was caught. In his thrashing, he knocked his hat off his head, and his last sight was the hat flying away from him before he fell into the pit. He tried to engage his levitation, but it failed completely, shocking him and making him land at the bottom too hard. His ankle folded under him, causing pain to shoot up his leg. The drow recovered himself and looked upward, deciding to climb out if necessary. However, the walls towered above him, seeming to clench around him as though giant hands meant to choke the hole shut.

A blue light appeared at Jarlaxle's feet, swirling around his ankles and materializing thick mud in its place. Jarlaxle tried to raise one foot out of it, but the muck held his feet tight, and he was slowly sinking further into it . . . his ankles, his calves. Struggling made him sink faster, and his initial yell was swallowed by an unnatural silence.

Jarlaxle grew deathly still, which stopped his sinking. He was trapped up to his hips in the muck, which suddenly solidified. The opening to the pit closed over him, some fifteen feet above his head, leaving him in utter darkness. His darkvision kicked in, but it showed him nothing but the stone wall encircling him. He reached out and touched the walls with his hands, mentally measuring his space even as he brainstormed a way out of his situation. But the cold stone made him shiver, and he realized he was becoming quickly chilled.

To test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind, Jarlaxle yelled as loud as he could. Nothing. Just like the veil of magical silence he could lower on spellcasters, this pit neutralized all sound. Next, Jarlaxle grabbed one of his wands and tried firing at the lid which had formed over the hole's opening. Nothing.

The pit was a magical prison—defeating all spells, prohibiting sight, sound, and movement. The perfect trap.

"Great," Jarlaxle said, but of course he heard nothing even as his mouth formed the word.

What now? Jarlaxle considered the nonmagical items he carried; however, they couldn't help him either because his legs were trapped in a substance much like marble. He took a deep breath, but was distracted by the sudden awareness that the total silence was making him hear a faint ringing in his ears. He tried to ignore it, knowing it would irritate him, but once it was noticed, it was hard to forget.

What was worse, Jarlaxle couldn't even sit down because of the place the fake stone had stopped on his body. So he was trapped standing up in a tiny pit with magically enforced silence. The drow couldn't think of anything more boring—or dangerous. How would he escape this trap?

For an instant, the two visions of the future he'd seen crossed his mind: the beggar dying in the street and the madman trapped in Lolth's power. Alone. Would he go mad here, in the maze of torture devices?

Jarlaxle shook the thoughts from his head. They had been illusions, tricks based on fears he had buried deep inside. They wouldn't come true.

Would they?