A/N: So, last night I was wondering how much I had left to do with this part of the story, and I figured I had 8 or so more stages to go, which means between 8 and 16 chapters (or possibly less, but... well, I tend to waffle... :D ) So, yay, I think -- we might get to the end soonish!

And, may I offer my thanks to Kulyok for having a read over this to make sure Xan stayed in character enough:D

General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

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Suldanessellar

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Had it not been for the urgency of their task, Xan's heart would have lightened immensely just at the sight of the Forest of Tethir once again. He could sense the presence of the People as they approached Elhan's camp, an intense feeling that was only second to that which he experienced on his infrequent, and invariably short, returns to his home. As they rode on for the last leg of their journey, the air was still around them; quiet and peaceful, broken only occasionally by the twilight song of a bird, or the chirp of an insect residing in the deep undergrowth.

Even Jaheira seemed calmer here; gone was her almost permanent frown, replaced, instead, with a serene expression and a relaxed poise. She had been happier since their night in Trademeet, expressing her regrets only one that morning, before they began to ride.

"I only wish things could have been different," she'd sighed, her eyes moist but holding onto the tears that threatened to drop. She hadn't expanded overly on the topic, but Xan already knew what she would have said. If only Imoen had not been taken from them for so long; if only Maiyn had not run away; if only Xzar had not found them before they went to strike at Bodhi... If only Khalid was still there. Her unspoken words were louder and clearer than anything she could have tried to express, and for the most part Xan shared her sentiments completely.

But now they were almost at the completion of their own task, returning the Lanthorn to Elhan's safekeeping. Xan could see the tents rising ahead of them before he noticed the shadowy figures running along beside them; he had no idea how long the elvish scouts had been beside them, but he admired their skill and ability. The scouts escorted them into the perimeter of the camp before they disappeared once again, drifting back out to the forest to continue their patrols, and leaving Xan and Jaheira in the hands of Elhan's men.

Silently they dismounted, as General Sovalidaas emerged from his own tent, beckoning them to follow him as he strode along under the moonlight towards the centre of the encampment. One small flick of his hand was all it took for one of the guards at the entrance of the Prince's rather grand tent to dash inside, to give word to his liege that the strangers had returned.

Xan and Jaheira stood side by side, waiting patiently. The General said nothing to them, and he seemed to carefully avoid eye contact, though Xan caught him, more than once, stealing curious glimpses over. He wasn't the only one.

"You study me when I am not looking as if I was some unusual specimen," Jaheira noted dryly, directing her steeliest gaze at him. "I have a voice and would be more than happy to answer anything you wished to ask."

"You mistake my attention," the General replied stiffly. "I was merely curious as to your... lack of companions. But Prince Elhan shall wish to know what befell them, no doubt, so my wondering shall have to wait."

With that he averted his gaze, strolling a little away to be closer to his men as if he were averse to being so close to the outsiders. Even Xan's faintly glimmering moonblade didn't help to mask the slight distaste he seemed to regard them with. Fortunately, they did not have to wait much longer. A faint rustle and the flap of the large tent was brushed aside, a slightly dishevelled looking Elhan hurrying outside. Wordlessly, Xan held the Lanthorn out, watching as the elven prince slowly raised his own hands to accept the item, wonderment shining in his eyes.

"You returned... and you brought it safely home," he whispered in Common, his fingers tracing some of the intricate runes covering its surface. It seemed to glow slightly at his touch. "We were not sure if you would succeed," he admitted, his attention finally returning to the two companions. He looked at them both, frowning slightly. "But only two have arrived; the others... they are...?"

"Mostly alive," Jaheira answered curtly.

Xan cleared his throat. "One of our group fell, a kinsman at that. Kivan of Shilmista was his name."

Elhan bowed his head. "I am sorry for your loss," he said with genuine feeling. "These recent events have been the cause of too many deaths. But there were others in your group who have not returned here." He stopped abruptly, letting his unasked questing linger in the air.

"They had other business to attend to," Xan said quietly, his eyes never moving form the prince's own. Elhan held the gaze resolutely.

"I... see. It must have been something very... urgent, then. And yet, still the Lanthorn was returned, and the companionship was wrought in two? This is a most... strange development."

"You have your trinket back," came Jaheira's voice, causing the Elhan to jump slightly, the prying gaze he'd levied on Xan, broken. "I suggest you use it as it was intended before the drow have even more chance to wreak their havoc on your city."

Slowly, the prince turned to face the half-elf. He showed no outward signs of reacting to her race, but his countenance returned to the familiar haughtiness they'd first encountered, now increased by his possession of the elven artefact. "You are correct," he replied stiffly, raising his free hand and making some complex signal. Almost immediately, the camp seemed to spring into action around them as elves dashed here and there, fetching armour and weapons, General Sovalidaas calling out orders to the soldiers.

"We leave at dawn," Elhan proclaimed. "The march to Suldanessellar will commence!"

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Xan and Jaheira were shown to a tent not far from Elhan's own elaborate encampment. It was a modest affair with two makeshift beds with comfortable feathered mattresses and fresh rushes strewn across the floor. The druid wasted no time in settling down, wishing Xan only a brief good night before turning her back to him and the rest of the elven world around her. He sighed quietly, perching himself at the foot of his own bed, feeling strangely awake despite the long journey they'd taken.

It wasn't long before he rose, wandering outside and into the small glade. The moonlight streamed down, casting its pale light across the elves that were still busily ensuring they were well equipped for the battle that would invariably follow the next day. Elhan had decided to split his forces -- many of the elves were to stay behind and protect the camp at all costs from drow raiding parties, so it could also be used as a safe retreat for any survivors found in the city. The Prince was unsure how many, if any, they'd find, but he was determined to have somewhere for them to go.

Xan and Jaheira had been dismissed from his presence shortly after he barked out his orders and decisions. They were then left to wait as a tent was prepared for them, and except for the occasional elf bowing to Xan as they passed, they were acknowledged by no one. It had only served to seemingly irritate Jaheira and worsen her mood. Xan was quite glad she'd decided to rest; things would be hard for them both in the morning, and the added worry over Maiyn's own path were only serving to make them both stressed. But the enchanter knew he could not reverie; not until he'd asked some questions.

The elf guarding Elhan's tent hesitated for only a moment after Xan discretely showed his moonblade to him, a silent request to be admitted to seek an audience with the Prince. Then he was shown inside, where he managed to keep a check on himself and not start too obviously at the decadence surrounding him. Though many elves had fled Suldanessellar with only their lives, Elhan had managed to ensure a comfortable living here in the camps of Tethir. It caused some distaste to the enchanter, but he kept it hidden; this was not the time to question the priorities of one of his Princes.

Elhan was giving him a curious look as he rose from a large chair at the far side of the tent. He nodded his head respectfully enough and motioned for Xan to take a seat almost as luxurious as his own seemed to be. The mage nodded and sat, stiffly, waiting for the guard to be dismissed. Only when they were alone did Xan speak.

"When we last saw you, as we exited the Underdark… You said some things which caused me some thought."

"I did?" Elhan's eyebrow rose. "What is it, exactly, that concerns you?"

Xan leaned back in his chair, his fingertips coming together to rest lightly. "When you first told us that the Lanthorn had been stolen, I spoke a name, which my companions agreed with. You showed some degree of recognition of the name, yet acted as though you were oblivious to the motives and meanings of this attack on your city. I want to know what you are hiding from us."

There was a long pause as Elhan regarded Xan with a small frown on his face. The enchanter stared back at him, impassively. Eventually the Prince spoke. "Even though you are an elf -- even though you wield the most respected of our blades... you are an outsider. This should not be known to you, or anyone. It is a shame we had buried."

Xan sighed. "Before she died, Bodhi had many interesting things to say. She spoke of her... heritage."

Elhan tensed, and Xan saw the Prince's knuckles whiten as his hands formed tight fists, resting atop his beautifully carved oaken desk. "Anything said by her or the Exile, Irenicus, must be treated as suspect," he hissed. "You would do well not to repeat their tales to those that do not need to know them!"

"So Irenicus is now 'the Exile' is he? A strange title for one you insist you do not know, especially when his eyes... his eyes are so very blue."

Elhan brought his hand down on the desk hard, and then stood swiftly, pacing around the room in an agitated manner. His guard appeared, a look of concern on his face as the Prince waved him away tersely before turning back to the enchanter. "This is... This is not for you to know."

"My duty is to my People -- to our People," Xan replied calmly. "By hiding it from me, you hide it from a Defender of Elvenkind."

"You are no normal wielder of the blades!" exclaimed Elhan. "You travel with a creature that is not wholly mortal!"

"I travel with those who also were investigating the very incidents I was assigned to," Xan replied frostily. "It is not your position, my Prince, to question the objectives of my Elders."

Elhan wrung his hands. Gone was the self-assured posture, the haughtiness he carried in the presence of Jaheira. Instead, Xan was left to face a relatively young kinsman who was facing the very real destruction of his city and people. But despite this, he was unwilling -- or unable -- to tell Xan what he needed to know -- what he needed to hear being denied.

"One of our kin died returning the Lanthorn," Xan said quietly. "Many non-elves stood with us to ensure it found its way back to your safe hands. There have been sacrifices made, and Irenicus has taken many lives, not just those from the city. His role in this -- in my assignment -- is larger and more crucial than you can imagine, and the leader of my current group, though absent, suffers a fate worse than any you could imagine if she does not find him."

"She shall find him in the city, should she join us to fight within," Elhan replied wearily. "We will provide what assistance we can. He needs to be stopped for both of our sakes."

"I need to know what he is."

"No." Elhan spoke abruptly. "You are one of us, but... but you would not understand, and I am not prepared to make you. If you wish to know more, you'll have to talk to one of those involved."

"Then who?" asked Xan impatiently.

"Demin the high priestess," Elhan replied. "She will tell you. She is still within the city, though we have every reason to believe she lives. She cannot fall... it would be... it would place an enormous pressure on the survivors; I do not think they would be able to cope with it without her strength and faith. My sister… the Queen, certainly, would suffer, and I know not how she fares so far."

Xan nodded grimly and stood up. He placed a hand on Elhan's shoulder as he passed, pausing briefly. "We will do what we can, for the sake of our People," he whispered, before striding from the tent and back out to the moonlit night. Rather than returning to the tent he shared, he made his way to a fallen log, away from the limited activity still taking place, and his hands absently went to his components pouch. Before he knew it, he'd drawn out two rubies; the same two gems he'd been holding in the svirfneblin village all those weeks ago.

He watched them glitter softly in his hands, allowing the gentle lunar light to light up their surfaces. Then he placed them both into his palm, closing his hand tightly around them as he leaned forward, huddling over them with his eyes closed. A warmth began, growing until it encompassed his whole hand, slowly spreading to his wrist, his arm. Before long his whole body seemed to glow from the heat and the images began.

Misty at first, but slowly the cloudiness dispersed. He saw a heather covered hill, not too steep, dotted with fir trees. Several riders were slowly making their way down, and the sun was setting behind them, making their features had to distinguish. But one he knew almost instantly; causing his heart to lift with hope as he saw her, injury free and seemingly in good health. Four others followed her lead; one was unmistakably Minsc, his large frame hard to miss even in the failing light of the time-delayed scry. The others... Xan could make out little of them, but he was almost certain on the identity of one. The way the rider held himself, the hint of pointed ear, or painted face. Coran had found her, despite his pledge to not aid her on her quest with the Zhents. Xan felt himself growing cold inside.

The other two were not Zhents -- one would be the girl that had been travelling with the elf since his arrival in Amn. The other... Xan was unsure of the identity, though it did not appear to be a foe. He wondered briefly where the necromancer had gone and what had happened to the halfling; but then he realised the other two missing figures, and his heart lurched with sickness.

The vision faded with the warmth, and the enchanter opened his palm to find nothing there but the imprint of two small rectangular objects. What had happened to Imoen and Anomen?

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Jaheira followed the procession leaders quietly under the breaking dawn. She was fairly certain that they only allowed her to march so close to the front because she was in the company of one of their precious moonblade wielders; and unlike him, she could hold herself in hand to hand combat with relative ease.

Enough! she chided herself. Her patience had been tested since they arrived; the curious glances from the elves at her obvious heritage bordering on rude, and the dismissive glances and way she was spoken to had only reinforced her temper. Xan had pulled her to the side before they left, requesting that she let him do the talking. She'd shrugged with calm indifference, hiding the rage that was building inside. But it was not fair to levy it at the enchanter -- more than once he'd given her a concerned look, and he seemed to have much on his own mind, though he had obviously decided not to share it with her. Despite that, she was glad he was there; this was not a trip she would have wanted to make on her own.

The admittance of this only served to increase her anger, but this time it was directed at herself. Weak! When did she become so dependant? So needy for others to be with her? When Khalid... when Khalid had died, she had been left on her own. She was perfectly capable of being on her own. She stayed with the group because... Because she was needed, to look over Maiyn, and now Imoen too. They needed her -- her experience, her wisdom.

But if that was true, why hadn't she stayed with them? Why wasn't she in the north, travelling alongside them, no matter how misguided she believed Maiyn's intentions to be. The girl's words had stung, that much was true, but it wasn't enough to make her turn her back on them. Not even the intention to help the Zhents would have been enough.

What was enough was to face the choice; to stay with Maiyn and Imoen, or to follow the path that would take her to Irenicus. The man who killed her husband. The man who'd caused her world to collapse; who'd made her re-evaluate everything in her life. He'd never touched her while she was his prisoner; instead she'd been locked up for an undeterminable amount of time and left to wait. But despite this, Irenicus had hurt her more than he'd have ever accomplished with spells or knives. He'd taken away everything from her, and though she'd put it to the back of her mind, tried to go on for the sake of the others; she knew that she wouldn't be able to move on from it all until he paid. And he could only pay in kind -- a life for a life.

It would be balance. It would be right.

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When Elhan stopped, Xan's heart seemed to leap almost into his mouth. Almost cautiously, the elven prince moved forward a few steps, having signalled for everyone else to stay as they were. For several long moments, nothing happened; save for the cracking of twigs under his leather boots as he approached what looked like an inconspicuous glade. But then, dully at first before growing in strength and intensity, the Lanthorn began to glow, and a melodious, low hum emitted from it.

The air rippled, and the clearing disappeared to reveal something very different indeed. Many tall trees loomed before them, reaching up higher than the other trees of the forest. Intricate walkways, made from parts of the living trees, weaved their way around the immense trunks; one especially large platform sloped away from them, separating into several smaller routes through the trees, each leading upwards and further into the wood.

Jaheira was watching with a mostly impassive face, but Xan was sure he saw some wonder in her eyes. Even he hadn't been prepared for this -- but although he couldn't see the elven city yet, his heart was already heavy. With the illusion of the glade dispelled, the reality of the area had come into effect; and despite the grandeur of it all, the view was sullied by the faint noise of screams and shouts.

The battle was still raging for Suldanessellar.

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Xan and Jaheira ran along with the advance forces of Elhan's men, following the Prince himself as he navigated the twisting paths leading up to the true entrance of the city. As they approached the true levels of devastation began to hit home; smoke was rising from several different points, and bodies, both elven and drow, were strewn around the platforms linking the different levels of the city. Several golems could be seen nearby, terrorising some elves they'd managed to corner; their victims were cowering against the wooden wall of one of the homes, two adults desperately trying to shield what appeared to be a child. Xan felt a diverse mixture of emotions wash over him; anger, sadness, regret, dismay, nausea... he just looked around, his dark eyes taking in the fighting, the death... and then he laughed. It came from deep inside him, seeking a release, and soon he had no option but to give into the hysterical frenzy that overwhelmed him. Jaheira regarded him, her green eyes flashing with concern. Cautiously she reached out, placing her hand on his arm.

"This is not the time to lose control," she said calmly. "We are needed here, more than we could have imagined. Be strong, for your People, if nothing else."

His laughter stopped abruptly as he sobered at her words. Solemnly, he nodded, letting his hand drift down to his components pouch, thankful that he'd stocked up while in Athkatla and had not required to use many on their journey. Elhan was already directing his men, and General Sovalidaas had swept across and past them, looking to secure a way to the Palace. With a grim expression, the Prince turned to face them, an ornate blade resting in his hands as he pushed his regal-looking cloak behind his shoulders.

"Will you honour me by fighting alongside me for my city?" he asked Xan. Jaheira merely rolled her eyes at his failure to address her as well and waited for Xan to answer. It took the enchanter several moments to reply.

"We shall," he said hoarsely. "We... we will do what we can."

Elhan nodded his thanks and took one last sweeping gaze around. "We have some time left with the sun in our favour," he noted. "The drow will not support their slaves until the light favours them and it is imperative we make the most of the time we have to deplete their forces as much as is possible. The General will pass the Temple as he approaches the Palace in search of the Queen. We must head further in and try to locate our High Priestess."

Xan and Jaheira followed the group as they set off along one of the walkways, immediately engaging in combat with the golems that had been terrorising one of the families. When the last one had fallen, the elves were ushered towards the gate of the city, where Elhan had left many of his men, ready to usher survivors in the direction of the encampment.

As they crossed over a delicate bridge onto another platform, they were assaulted by a group of trolls who bore down on them with savage ferocity. Due to the skill of their fighters, Xan was almost completely surrounded by them as they fought, keeping him safe as he used minor fire and acid cantrips to bring the creatures down. One of the Prince's men, a young elf named Halin, had been quite seriously injured by the filthy claws from one of their foes, and Jaheira set about tending it while Elhan led the others on, past a small dwelling that was carved into the massively thick trunk of one of the trees.

"Things are worse than we could have imagined," the Prince noted grimly, looking around at the deserted and ruined buildings. Xan sighed; he could imagine how this place would have looked in times of peace, with its natural beauty and charm. The intruders had done all they could to despoil the elegance of the surroundings, with fire and brute force both. It dismayed Xan immensely that he had to see such a grand city as Suldanessellar was in such a pitiful state.

"We need to find Demin," he reminded Elhan. The Prince nodded absently, pointing to another home further into the trees. "Her home lies ahead of us, though... wait! Look, there!" He pointed to the walkways at either side of house and Xan immediately saw them.

"Drow," he said hoarsely, his resolve wavering slightly. If they were fighting under the gaze of the sun, then what hope was there to establish a control of the already razed and controlled city…?

"Only one," Elhan replied firmly. "And its pet nabassu... Eiros, Solen -- concentrate on the demon. Everyone else... we bring down the drow."

There were nods from the others, and Xan passed the message back to Jaheira as she approached -- she'd instructed Halin to return to the gates, to help the survivors flee the city, so she could preserve what healing she had left. He'd seemed reluctant to obey her order, but something in her tone, in her demeanour, had worked to make him listen, and she'd hurried along to the others, unwilling to be left far behind.

"Beware of him," she warned, her eyes narrow as she looked over at him, his back turned to their presence. "His robes are those of the first house of Ust Natha -- the insignia... it is the same..."

Her voice faded into nothing, but Xan felt her hand on his arm; felt the comforting squeeze. He nodded his head briefly, unwilling to have the moment dwelt upon in the presence of Elhan and his men, and the Prince was already looking at them curiously.

"Is there a problem?" he asked quietly.

"No," Xan replied quickly. "We are familiar with their power, however. I would second the call of caution from my companion."

Elhan nodded slowly. "Then it shall be as you say. We will make every effort to bring him down as quickly as we can. Is everyone ready?"

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They moved with an effortlessness that Xan remembered vividly from Evereska; the young fighters, eager to learn their ways with blades and blunts, showing their grace and elegance as they danced around the practice halls. To him, it had often appeared as more of a dance than a fight, a ritual conducted with the understanding of two parties who moved with instinct rather than thought.

He hung back, his hands trembling slightly as his fingers sought the correct components from his pouch. Eiros and Solen had managed to catch the nabassu by surprise, injuring it heavily before it was able to react, swiping back at them with its long claws. It was with its shriek that the drow had also been alerted to the attack; spinning around to grin manically at them.

"At last!" he exclaimed. "Guard duty grows tedious... Let's get down to killing you!" Then he paused, moving back slightly and offering a mock bow to Elhan, seemingly recognising the advancing Prince. "Oh, I suppose I should be official about this... You there! All citizens must stay indoors under threat of death. But since there is nowhere for you to go inside... let death await you all!"

A conflagration of fire surrounded him as a whole series of spell protections were triggered, and the elves and Jaheira had no choice but to draw back slightly, the ring of red flames dancing in a circle around their master. One of the elves immediately switched to his bow, letting his arrows fly at the dark mage, but none of them could pierce the protections around him. Stuttering, Xan began a breach spell, his hands shaking more now, as he desperately tried to sort through the dried leaves in one of the pouch compartments.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it all changed. The drow was still there, still protected -- but glowing an eerie blue colour in addition. And by his side was a massive pit fiend, its black, leathery wings stretched out, its salivating maw reaching forward to its prey. Xan felt sick and nauseous; the stop in time disturbed him from his spell and he fumbled with the reagents in his grasp, dropping them to the ground.

"Look out!" Eiros and Solen shouted their warning as they sprang back from the fallen nabassu, avoiding the large masses of flaming rocks that began to rain down on the others. Jaheira had quickly moved towards the limited shelter of the tree, distancing herself from the others as they pulled back hastily, the baatezu following their retreat as it hungrily lurched at them, looking for any weakness.

Xan had to reach out and steady himself on one of the few remaining balusters, his mind swirling and making him stumble. It wasn't just the effect of the change in time, he knew -- the drow caster they were facing was unpleasantly familiar to him.

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They called them the 'Lust Chambers'. He felt sick; sicker than he'd imagined possible, and more helpless than ever before. The priestess wasted no time in making it clear to him on exactly what she wanted, signalling for him to approach the richly furnished bed, to lie on the embroidered spider that covered the sheets.

Further fuelling his dismay was the realisation that they were not alone. A man and a woman stood at either side of the room; the girl appearing to be one of the handmaidens of the house, overseeing the event. A man stood at the other side, clad in dark robes that proudly displayed an insignia matching that of the priestess accosting him. Xan started slightly... the males they had encountered, so far, had been fighters -- the presence of this, a valuable mage of the first house, was both worrying and puzzling.

The man was watching him and smiling. Xan closed his eyes and groaned.

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"Solen! Try to get to her!"

Elhan's harsh voice snapped him back to reality, and he looked up to see the elves engaged with the fiend, carefully taking turns to exploit its weak and undefended sides as they evaded its own aggressive moves. Solen ducked under its snaking head, dodging its flapped wings; Xan looked ahead of him -- Jaheira was cornered by the drow, fighting desperately against a man she could not harm.

His hands dug back into his spell pouch, pulling free a variety of items as he quickly intoned the words to bring down some of the drow's protections. Orbs of violet and gold flew from his fingertips, stripping the effects painfully slowly as Solen tried, desperately, to take the attention away from the druid.

With a loud laugh, the drow pulled back his sword and lunged forward with it. Xan flinched openly, only relieved when he saw Jaheira parrying the blow and ducking around, escaping from the corner and gaining some freedom to manoeuvre in. With determination, Xan continued his casting, reciting the spells he knew, watching as slowly the drow mage became more and more vulnerable.

A roar signalled the falling of the pit fiend, and the other elves rushed to the aid of their companions just as Xan finished his final piercing spell. The ring of fire surrounding the drow disappeared, but his stoneskin stayed in place and the enchanter had no more conjurations to use. Instead, he altered his castings, sending arrows of fire and acid at his opponent, serving to distract the drow until his final protection fell and his death followed swiftly.

Quickly he made his way over to the rest of the group, looking over apologetically to Jaheira as she bent over, her hands on her hips, her breathing heavy. She shook her head slightly at him, offering the vaguest hint of a reassuring smile; no apologies. We survived. One of the elves was searching the corpse for any hint as to his role or purpose in the city while Elhan checked everyone was in good enough health to press on.

It was then that the ear-splitting scream erupted from the dwelling they stood outside.