Prologue
Blake Marsh swung the Sword of Gith, the metal of the blade passing harmlessly through the portal but the magic imbued into that metal reacting with and against it. This attack was finally enough; the portal vanished and took with it the tendril of dark energy that had been linking the King of Shadows to the Shadow Plane through it. Deprived of this support, driven back on his own intrinsic power, the King of Shadows staggered as he adjusted to the loss. The adventurers took this moment to gather their own breath and ensure they were surrounding their towering foe.
Neeshka quickly moved across to Blake's side, concern evident on her pretty face as she saw how weary her harbour-boy was. Blake saw this concern and made the effort to straighten and try to give her a reassuring smile. His beard and the cheekguards of his helmet hid his face a little, but at times like this he wished he had a full-face helm so he did not have to keep his expression confident. Especially since this was wasted effort as he did not think his smile would fool Neeshka even for an instant. Over the months since they'd first met, and through the adventures that had brought them here to this ancient Illefarn fortress, the bond between them had grown strong. It had been one of the worst moments of Blake's life when he'd realised that Neeshka had disappeared just after they'd teleported here.
However Tymorra had smiled on them with good fortune and victory and when they entered this great domed room and he saw Neeshka again Blake had thanked as many Gods and Goddesses as he could think of. He'd felt less thankful when he learned that while they were apart the corrupted mage Black Garius had been attempting a binding ritual on her through her Tiefling blood. The agony this had caused her made Blake regret he had been unable to honour Hoar, The Doombringer, with suitable retribution on Black Garius for this and his other crimes and been unable to kill him more slowly or more than once. However that regret faded to almost nothing compared with what he would have felt had Ilmater not blessed Neeshka with the endurance to resist and if he had been forced to kill her along with the two traitors.
It had actually been quite welcome having the chance to kill Bishop as the question with him had always been when rather than if he would betray them. His actions during the battle against the undead at Crossroad Keep were enough reason to have hunted him down so finding him here had saved that trouble. And it had been amusing to see his face when he tried to take control of the Golem the Gnome bard Grobnar had repaired, only to learn that even with Grobnar's trusting nature he'd judged Bishop well enough to install an override to the override after revealing those phrases.
What had been less welcome was having to kill the Elven Wizard Sand. At times it had been hard to tolerate the incessant arguing between him and the Sorceress Qara, her with her innate power and instinct, him with his meticulous study, and both of them without the willingness to control their scorn for the other. But despite the temptation to have them both removed from Crossroad Keep Blake had continued to try to play the peacemaker. Sand had earned some gratitude for his aid with the false murder accusations and very gradually, despite her impatience for the less talented, Qara had been becoming more willing to accept advice from Blake.
Those efforts had now been wasted; Blake had a great deal of respect for how powerful Qara was and had no problems believing the rumours he'd heard about when Sand had tried to confront, or at least speak to, her when she was alone. His scorn for her lack of control had turned to fear when she had wreathed herself in flames and incinerated the barrels whose remains Blake had seen the next day. It must have been a shock to find that what Sand had decried as major lapses had only appeared thus due to Qara's sheer strength making her minor slips seem more serious. But even with that demonstration of how much power she held within her slender frame it was still hard for Blake to understand why Sand had decided Qara was a greater threat than the King of Shadows.
If she ever learned the techniques to fully use her immense natural talent then Qara would be very formidable. Truly more formidable though than a creature of pure magic created by the combined efforts of the Archmages of ancient Illefarn? Sand had heard the tale of how they created a Guardian for their empire and how when magic failed and it turned to the shadow-weave to survive they feared it had been corrupted. How in this fear they attacked it and how it had defeated them despite all their skill and power and the aid of their ally the great Crystal Dragon Nolaloth. He'd also heard how Githyanki cities were ravaged by mere avatars of the King of Shadows and had seen that even the fraction of its power it had granted Black Garius had let him render an entire army of the Undead immune to sunlight. But Sand had still turned on them, had still decided allying with the King of Shadows to prevent Qara coming into her full potential was the lesser evil, and had now died for his mistake.
Wearily Blake dragged his mind back to the present as his instincts prompted him that the King of Shadows had recovered and adjusted. Without the link to the Shadow Plane he might now be vulnerable, but vulnerable was not the same as being an easy foe. His power was still immense and even if the Red Knight's blessing was upon their tactics there was still hard fighting to come. Glancing across past the King of Shadows he caught the eye of Khelgar Ironfist and tilted his head briefly to him. The Dwarf nodded and began shuffling to one side, understanding the subtle signal thanks to the rapport they'd built over the many battles they'd faced together.
Blake waved the Sword of Gith in front of him, letting what light there was glint off it and catch whatever the King of Shadows used for eyes. The blankly glowing spots beneath the bone helmet seemed to focus on him and on Neeshka who was determinedly and defiantly sticking to his side. Blake stumbled slightly and the motion of the Sword of Gith became less controlled, as if its weight was overwhelming his remaining strength and he had to fight to keep it in position. The rest of the King of Shadows face was as blank as his eyes but somehow that patch of darkness seemed to move into a predatory smile as it saw weakness.
The King of Shadows began to move. It was twice the height of a Fire Giant so one long stride would take it to Blake, but as whatever weight a creature of pure magic had shifted for this stride Blake also moved. Although he was grateful he'd found the Mithril Full Plate he was wearing, since this restricted his movements less than other metals would, with how heavy his arms felt as he moved them he still briefly wished he was not wearing quite so much armour. He had never been light on his feet like his beloved Neeshka though so he needed metal to take the blows he could not dodge and needed to use more power to overcome how this, especially his shield, interfered with his arcane skills.
Muttering the words of power Blake unleashed his last Isaac's Lesser Missile Storm, arcane energy gathering a moment in front of him between his hands before the magical missiles curved away from him and back in at the King of Shadows. Each missile was not strong compared with his target's strength, even weakened the King of Shadows shrugged them off like a man being pelted with pebbles from several directions but, like that man, he was distracted by the attack.
"Hold this ye bastard!" Khelgar roared, charging in from behind and swinging the Hammer of Ironfist into the side of one of the King of Shadows' knees.
There was not a crunch as the heirloom of his Dwarven clan slammed into its target, but that was only because the King of Shadows was a creature of magic. Rather than having bone and cartilage to be crushed by the blow what body it had was made of the stuff of the shadow-weave. It still reacted the same way to the blow though, the leg buckling beneath it and causing it to stagger in its stride.
Blake sprang forward with as much speed as he could muster after the lengthy battle. Even with the aid of his belt of strength, and having spent as much time on his martial as on his magical training, his full armour and tower shield seemed to drag him back. He'd learned from his beloved Neeshka though that subtlety could be worth more than brute force. Rather than strike square on instead he slashed the tip of the Sword of Gith across the calf of the King of Shadows' other leg. The King of Shadows fell as suddenly both legs hurt to stand on, swinging one massive hand at the retreating Blake.
The blow connected but Blake let his kite-shaped shield absorb the impact and let it propel him rather than resist. "Now," he called as he tottered back to sit down hard on his armoured behind with a grunt.
A fireball streaked across the room and into the King of Shadow's face as he tried to stand, followed closely by Eldritch Blasts that sliced into the arm he was trying to push himself up from the floor with. The shock and pain of the fireball and the pain and injury weakening his arm drove the King of Shadows back down and a peal of mocking laughter echoed around the curved walls. Though this mockery seemed not entirely directed at him.
"Getting old, getting slow," jibed Qara, glancing to her side, as she sent another fireball on its way.
"Idiot Child!" Ammon Jerro growled, the tattoos on his face glowing brighter with exertion, or anger, or both. "Look where you are aiming!"
"Disadvantage of being a Warlock," Qara replied in her typical condescending manner, sending a third fireball at the King of Shadows a moment after Ammon Jerro unleashed his second barrage of Eldritch Blasts. "You need to aim rather than having enough power."
A low noise escaped Ammon Jerro, but he did not give in to the temptation to demonstrate to Qara how much power he had. He had sacrificed reputation, home, and even family in his quest to destroy the King of Shadows so insults were not going to divert him now. Whether those insults would remain unavenged after the King of Shadows was defeated was another matter. Unlike that fool wizard Sand he needed no allies to kill this girl if he decided she was a threat as well as an irritant. He would use her in this battle and then decide whether poison, or a knife across her sleeping throat, or unwarranted mercy was the fate she deserved.
Arrows began to feather the King of Shadows as Grobnar saw an opening and brought his shortbow into play. These did not look as spectacular as the magic Qara and Ammon Jerro were continuing to hurl, but a skilled bowman, as Grobnar had become, could do a lot of damage in their unspectacular way. If nothing else, Blake mused, at least Grobnar using his bow meant he was not trying to play a tune on his Wenderkazoo, an instrument that was both invisible and sounded just like Grobnar humming.
Not to be left out Khelgar raised the Hammer of Ironfist and the electricity playing around it combined into a single bolt of lightning to link him and the King of Shadows. This would require the Hammer to be recharged, but as it recharged by being used to hit things this was no hardship as far as Khelgar was concerned. The King of Shadows convulsed, and then convulsed again as Blake regained his feet and chanted and cast a Disintegrate. His shadow-weave created body had no physical substance to tear apart but as this and the spell's magic from the weave met and consumed each other that almost seemed irrelevant to the pain it caused.
The King of Shadows appeared stunned but Blake was not sure how long this would last. It was likely some of the attacks had only worked because at its core the mind of the King of Shadows was still that of a man. A man would expect his knee to crumple when hammered and a man would flinch away from fire, so this was how the King of Shadows had reacted. Give him time to gather his wits though and he would heal, he would re-weave his shadow-weave body, and be only weakened rather than crippled.
"Finish this!" Blake called, staggering forward at top speed with a flourish of the Sword of Gith. Khelgar followed with the huge grin and seemingly inexhaustible energy any fight gave him. The Githzerai cleric Zhjave also moved in, as inscrutable as ever but ready to plunge her spear into this foe of her people. With a roar of rage the semi-prone King of Shadows swung again at Blake, but this roar became higher pitched as Blake let the Sword of Gith meet this swing and let the King of Shadows' own strength drive the edge of the blade through his hand.
Zhjave was the next to strike, flicking her spear forward into the King of Shadows' side, giving it a half twist in the wound, and then pulling it back before the shaft could be grabbed. Khelgar was less subtle and simply began hammering on the King of Shadows' spine like one of his clansmen would metal on an anvil. The King of Shadows twisted to try to reach- Khelgar but all that achieved was to move where the blows were landing from lower spine to where his kidneys would have been.
The Paladin Casavir and the Golem that Grobnar had imaginatively named "Construct" moved in together, divinely guided flesh and algorithm guided metal coordinated in their assault. The great blade that was one forearm of the Construct swung at the upper arm and shoulder of the King of Shadows while Casavir took advantage of the prone position of their foe to bring his hammer across into the King of Shadows' head. A slither of shadow-weave "flesh" peeled away from that upper arm while almost simultaneously there was a crunch as Casavir's hammer met the bone helmet and the latter visibly cracked, showing that though the King of Shadows was a creature of pure shadow magic that his accoutrements had some solidity.
Zhjave moved back in; she flicked her spear at the eyeholes of this helmet and caused the King of Shadows to reflexively flinch and try to protect his face. Its problem was what to protect it with. One arm was now badly wounded, first by the Sword of Gith and then the Construct, and the other arm was partially trapped where the King of Shadows had fallen back down onto it. The King of Shadows thrashed about as he tried to free his less wounded arm without using his other wounded limbs and tried to drive his smaller foes back with his flailing. He was incredibly tough but under their relentless assault this just made him die by smaller degrees.
Ammon Jerro had moved in with his own sword and joined in the Construct's attempts to, literally, whittle the King of Shadows down. Khelgar was continuing to hammer whatever part of the King of Shadows he could reach. Casavir was still concentrating on smashing the bone helmet, though it was doubtful there was a skull beneath it to also break the bone of. Grobnar had started singing encouragingly as it became impossible to use his bow. Qara meanwhile was just watching the others using physical force with a similar expression to a conceited aristocrat watching a ditch being dug, something they might concede needed to be done but not something they'd lower themselves to helping with.
Blake however was having problems; the Sword of Gith was incomplete and what shards they had found were held together by his will with only ghostly images of the missing pieces to join them. Years ago in the battle at West Harbour the Sword of Gith had shattered when Ammon Jerro used it to fight a mere avatar of the King of Shadows. One of the shards from it had sliced through Blake's mother and into him in her arms as she tried to protect her baby son and carry him away from the battle. It was doubly fortunate that Blake had been so young at the time. Fortunate for Ammon Jerro as Blake had no real memory of his mother, and so could only hate the Warlock for the evil he had done more recently, but fortunate also for the fight against the King of Shadows.
The shard had lodged within Blake and over the years since he was a baby, and as he had grown, a link had formed between him and it. As pieces of the same legendary sword, that of her who freed her people from the Illithid, the shards had maintained a link to each other. And with the ritual Zhjave had performed they had been able to use those links to let Blake's strength substitute for the missing pieces and allow the sword to be reformed. The cost though was the effort it took to maintain this, and the longer the battle went on, the more tired he became, the harder he hit the King of Shadows the more difficult this was.
Blake was not sure which deity he should thank that he had been able to continue to hold the blade together. He could thank Ilmater for endurance, Helm for helping him in his effort to protect those that this ancient creature threatened, Torm for helping him remember his duty and focus on it, there were many who could be aiding him. Finally though he saw his chance and staggered forward as the King of Shadows arched his back in his convulsing and exposed his belly, widening the gap between his belt and the other belts that criss-crossed his upper torso. The Sword of Gith struck home again, a long sweeping blow as Blake drew the strange multiple curves of its edge across the King of Shadows' "flesh". This would have disembowelled most creatures but instead of guts white light spilled out from the wound. Blake froze for a moment, surprised that beneath the skin of darkness there was still a core of light and the backlash through his link to the sword dazing him enough to pause in this surprise.
Suddenly he was flying backwards, cloth tearing as something yanked hard on his cloak and a last despairing blow from the King of Shadows passing close enough to him he felt the breeze. A firm shove between his shoulder blades helped him to stop falling and keep on his feet. Light erupted from the King of Shadows as his will finally faltered and his shadow-form tore itself apart and burst into nothingness. Blake blinked as this pure light dazzled him a little and then looked over his shoulder and saw an annoyed Tiefling.
"Think later harbour-boy," Neeshka chided him, smiling as her grin managed to break out again past the annoyance. Her sweetheart was far from being an absent minded professor like the Sage Aldanon but it did seem sometimes he did get too intellectually interested to pay attention to practical matters.
"Hrm," Blake replied, blinking a little more to clear his eyes and mind. There was a sudden grinding of stone around them and dust, and chunks of mortar, and even a few large stone blocks began to fall from the domed roof. Blake looked around with an irked expression at this further problem. "Think much later, run now," he agreed, then he looked around again. "Wait, where's Zhjave?"
"The Gith seems to have left your company with as much suddenness as she joined it," Ammon Jerro replied impatiently. "No matter, her choice."
Several rejoinders about showing concern for comrades came to Blake's mind but all were stifled by the fact that Zhjave had shown no concern for the rest of them by making her own independent escape. Instead he simply nodded and started moving towards the single exit. As they started upwards Blake glanced at Neeshka with a frown of concern.
"Problems, harbour-boy?" Neeshka asked, one eyebrow climbing towards a delicate horn.
Blake decided to not admit his concern was for her after what she had endured and instead pretended to be worried about the wider situation. "We could be in trouble," Blake said to her, and to the others who were listening, "our way here included entering patches of black mist that teleported us to another patch and those might have vanished with the King of Shadows. We may need another route."
"I might have missed that thanks to Black Garius," Neeshka replied, wincing in memory as she remembered the torture he'd put her through while the others were making their way through the fortress, "but I do remember that where we arrived was well inside this place."
"True enough," Blake admitted before adding, "as much as you disliked her Elanee would come in very useful right now, she'd be able to sense where stone ended and soil or air began."
"It was her choice to leave us at the Circle of the Mere," Neeshka said reasonably, before muttering with more venom, "and it took her long enough to get the hint and go."
Blake spared Neeshka another glance as they reached the upper floor, where they had destroyed the last Shadow Reavers before Black Garius himself. Elanee's departure was more complex than that. It had been obvious to Blake after they had freed Elder Naevan that Elanee was torn between her duty as a Druid, and to that Elder, and her desire to continue helping them as she had been. He knew he would not win any discussion involving Elanee with Neeshka however, and escape was more important, for now anyway. As Blake moved towards the single exit in this room and looked around for inspiration Grobnar tried to look as if he had not been making mental notes of the exchange for a song or saga.
"Besides," Neeshka continued, "you've got me!"
"And very grateful I am for that, but…"
"Buried tombs and labyrinths? Needing to be able to find your way in and out as well as avoid the traps inside?"
"Ah," Blake grinned slowly, "sounds like something someone with a pretty tail would know how to do."
"Better believe it," Neeshka grinned back as she stooped and grabbed a handful of dust from the floor. Releasing it gradually she nodded and then continued. "Draught seems to be in that direction, so we know where the air is going."
"Lead on then," Blake said, hearing some ominous groans from the walls around them, "I think that dust used to be mortar until a few minutes ago."
Swiftly they moved through the parts of the fortress that aside from Neeshka they had already seen. As Blake expected the black mist was no longer there, but thankfully neither were the undead that had slowed their progress before. Whether they had fled the collapsing fortress or been destroyed he did not know, but was willing to wait to find out until after they had made their escape and, hopefully, had a chance for a meal and some sleep. Soon they were into narrower corridors and Blake was feeling a little lost as Neeshka continued on, unhesitatingly leading them down one cross-corridor or another or choosing which corridor out of the occasional hall to take.
Finally Neeshka did pause though, her tail and head twitching from side to side as she looked either way down a T-Junction. Blake took the time to catch his breath as he had always had trouble keeping up with Neeshka. That the rest of the group, except Construct, seemed equally winded was some consolation. Khelgar in particular seemed grateful for the stop as Dwarven legs were not meant for long distance running and his bald head had developed quite the coat of dust stuck to the sweat on it. Seeing that Blake had noticed this gratitude though Khelgar straightened up.
"Come on Fiendling!" Khelgar prompted, pretending he'd not be thankful if she took a few minutes more over the choice. "Which way now?"
"We want to go straight on," Neeshka replied, too deep in thought to take offence, "but we only have left or right…" With that she bolted away, sprinting at top speed to the left. Blake hesitated a moment in shock before starting after her. "Back soon!" Neeshka called over her shoulder. "Just going to take a look."
Almost as she said that though the floor moved like the deck of a ship, rising and falling and corridor arches fracturing as they flexed. Part of Blake wondered how much of the lower levels of the fortress had just collapsed in on themselves but most of his attention was one arch. Its stones ground past each other out of position and before Blake could act or even shout a warning one block popped free and the arch and the ceiling it supported crashed down. Dust swirled back down the corridor towards them from the fallen section and past the staring Blake.
"It's okay lad," Khelgar said reassuringly, "she was well clear, and if it didn't collapse towards us it likely didn't towards her." Blake looked unconvinced so Khelgar continued. "Trust me," he added, "I may be more concerned with fighting than crafting, but I did grow up in underground holds and was taught and saw the dangers."
Blake nodded and then deliberately dragged his eyes away from the collapse. He had a responsibility to the others and Neeshka could move even faster now she was alone. "Looks like we only have one way to go."
"Perhaps not," Grobnar commented, "I could be mistaken, often I am, but the thought occurs that we can see a similar effect to that which…"
"Grobnar," Blake interrupted.
"Oh! Was I babbling again, I must apologise…but what I was going to say is that the drifting dust seems to be moving towards this wall? So there must be a crack in the wall and a space beyond it, perhaps a parallel corridor that would take us left."
"Good thinking, and well spotted."
"Thank you!" Grobnar smiled. "Construct, forward!"
"Wait!" Blake said, but too late.
Obedient to a fault, as was its nature, the Construct obeyed and smashed itself into the wall. Illefarn built Golem met Illefarn built wall and the former won as stone and brick and mortar crumbled and the Construct kept on going rather than being stopped. Blake glanced up at the ceiling, now lacking the support of the section of wall that had been reduced to rubble, and saw it already beginning to sag slightly.
"Everyone through", Blake ordered, "before we have another collapse."
"Another collapse, thanks to the Gnome," Ammon Jerro complained.
Grobnar ignored that complaint; he was already back at the Construct's side. The next wall, the far side of the corridor, had proved sturdier and, despite Grobnar's encouragement, was resisting the Construct's efforts to pull its blade from it. It looked to Blake as if the Construct had tripped and embedded its blade to almost its entire length while falling to one knee. Blake glanced up again as more dust fell from the ceiling and then looked back at Grobnar.
"We need to go."
"But Construct!"
"Is tough," Blake replied, "we can come back and dig it out to rebuild it, but not if we get buried as well."
"I don't like that idea," Grobnar mused, moving slightly down the corridor away from the Construct, "but…"
There was a crack of fracturing stone and Blake lunged to grab Grobnar and drag him out of harm, but Grobnar's reactions were even quicker. He flung himself across the kneeling form of the Construct, shielding seven foot of ancient magic metal with his own Gnome flesh. Blake stumbled forward half a step as he automatically tried to compensate for Grobnar's motion, and then stumbled even more as a rock thumped into the back of his helmet. Strong arms wrapped themselves around Blake's waist from behind and he found himself almost lifted off his feet as Khelgar picked him up like a barrel, leaning and walking backwards a few steps to get them clear. More rocks and then the entire ceiling over them dropped on Grobnar and the Construct and buried them.
Blake wobbled as Khelgar let his feet come back onto the floor, whether he was more stunned by Grobnar's actions and sudden death or the rock to the head he wasn't sure. For a second he looked at the burial before shaking his head. "Guh," Blake said vaguely, nodding to himself as he thought, "Them, dead? Yes, them dead…run not dig. Yes, run not dig."
"Aye lad," Khelgar replied, dragging Blake into motion, "run, not dig."
The others had been waiting for them further down the corridor, in the relative safety beneath one of the arches. Ammon Jerro looked as impatient as always and annoyed that they had wasted time on Grobnar. Conversely Casavir seemed calmly approving and glad that his faith in Blake's good nature was not misplaced. Qara however was looking bored, as if she was more concerned with having had to wait those seconds than with the danger or that Grobnar had died. As Khelgar continued to drag Blake along the ceiling sagged again and cracks appeared both sides of the arch.
"That does nay look good," Khelgar muttered. "We seem tae have drawn the attention of Beshaba rather than Tymorra the way our luck is going now."
"Tell us something we don't know," Qara sneered, the situation not affecting her manners.
"Do you know it looks like that arch is all that is holding this entire section of roof up?"
For a moment fear entered Qara's eyes and she looked worried, glancing at how far the cracks reached before she managed to reassume her normal disdainful expression. "Of… of course I knew that!"
Khelgar chucked to himself as he helped Blake stagger past the arch and Qara moved quite hastily on down the corridor. Ammon Jerro stayed closer; his attitude conveying that now his work was complete and the King of Shadows defeated that whether they survived or not was unimportant. They continued on several steps before Khelgar realised there were only the three of them, plus Qara, moving down the corridor. Turning to look back Khelgar also turned Blake around.
"Wha…" Blake said, looking at Casavir, "Wha' doing?"
"Aye, come on!" Khelgar called.
"If this arch is all that prevents a collapse," Casavir replied, one arm bending slightly before he rebraced himself, "then we need to prevent its collapse."
"Don't be daft," Khelgar replied, seeing the strain already starting to tell on Casavir as he struggled to keep the arch stones sliding any further out of position. "If you wait any longer then even if you run you'll never get clear."
"Yes," Casavir replied in his deep calm voice. "I know… So please, don't waste this. Go."
Khelgar nodded in understanding and respect. "Tyr go with ye then."
Whether Casavir's strength gave out or whether he simply let go once he saw the others had reached safety was not clear, even to Ammon Jerro who had been watching rather than staggering like Blake, supporting Blake like Khelgar, or looking impatiently onwards like Qara. All that could be said was that as soon as Blake and Khelgar were clear and had passed beneath another arch into a section that was still sturdy the entire corridor behind them collapsed from where Grobnar was already buried, past Casavir, and almost to their heels.
"This…bad," Blake commented, looking slack jawed at the fallen ceiling, "no friend get killed by King of Shadows, but then friends get killed by squish."
Urging Blake back into motion they quite soon reached a round hall where several corridors merged. More important some of those corridors were on the floor above, their entrances coming out onto a balcony that encircled the hall. Unfortunately the balcony had already partially collapsed with how the fortress had been shaking and the only surviving stairs up also showed signs of threatening collapse. As Khelgar steadied Blake, and peered down the corridor from which Neeshka might have approached, Qara looked at the stairs and then impulsively gathered her magic. A great wave of fire erupted from Qara and played over the stairs that began to glow cherry red after only a moment. The stairs sagged as their stone softened and their weight squashed the stones together like a mass of jellied sweets that had been sat upon. It was an impressive display of arcane might but only a brief one as Qara suddenly sagged and crumpled, exhausted, to the floor.
"Hrm," complained Ammon Jerro, looking at the stairs and making no move to check on Qara, "and now we are delayed by however long it takes her to recover, or for the stairs to cool, or both."
Khelgar spared Ammon Jerro a sideways look as he sat Blake down, propped up against some rocks well away from the heat radiating from the stairs, and then went to also move Qara to safety. She was quite awkward to move as although she didn't weigh much she was rather long in the limbs compared with him. "Seems a good delay," Khelgar finally said, satisfied that Blake and Qara were comfortable, "since we have nay seen any stairs for so long."
"Oh yes," Ammon Jerro replied sarcastically, "a very good delay indeed. Of course if Zhjave were still here then she might be able to clear our leader's clouded mind, take advantage that we are not moving for now. Or use her healing powers to help Qara recover faster. Or she might even have had some prayers prepared that would let us move over hotter rocks."
"Aye," nodded Khelgar, "I remember she did be able to protect us against Dragon Fire, so that last at least is true. But she buggered off."
"Which is no surprise," Ammon Jerro snarled, "she had a safe exit with her ability to plane shift and once she had used us to destroy the King of Shadows, destroy that foe of her people, she had no more use for us."
"Not… not got," Blake frowned, trying to follow the conversation and fixing on one thing, "not got enough spells against fire. Cannot protect. Maybe can speed cooling, got some icy spells, but still seeing double."
"Just relax," Khelgar reassured him, "but drink this first."
Blake took the bottle without curiosity over the contents and swigged back the potion before his eyes widened as if something as hot as the rocks of the stairs had been introduced somewhere he would rather not have such a thing. For a moment he sat bolt upright staring at nothing, and then he collapsed back against the rocks. Khelgar smiled and shook his head before looking back at Ammon Jerro.
"Old Dwarven recipe."
"You do realise he is not a Dwarf," Ammon Jerro retorted.
"Aye, but he's near as tough and even most Dwarves pass out. Not me of course, but most."
Ammon Jerro just nodded rather than dispute Khelgar's disclaimer and started looking around the room. A few minutes passed and there was a muted rumble from somewhere. Dust puffed from one of the corridor entrances, showing which of them had just suffered a collapse, and Ammon Jerro nodded sourly at this. "It would seem our options are becoming more limited the longer we wait," he observed. "At this room seems stable for now as somewhere to wait."
"Could be one of the oldest parts of the place," Khelgar supplied, looking round. "Walls are very thick, might be they dug this out as a shaft, dug corridors out from it, and then put the roof on and filled in the rest of the hole…or just let the mere mud flow back in on top."
"Indeed," Ammon Jerro replied, trying to sound as if this had been blindingly obvious to him. Then he paused, and tilted his head, as his Eldritch energy enhanced ears caught something. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Khelgar said, straightening from where he was crouching by Blake and Qara and moving one hand to the Hammer of Ironfist.
"Hear those!" Ammon Jerro growled as a monstrous form emerged from a corridor and onto the floor of the hall. He concentrated and gathered some power to shape and unleash and slice into this new foe.
"For Clangeddin and Ironfist!" Khelgar roared, happy to see something to hit and charging as he pulled his hammer from his belt-loop.
Ammon Jerro hesitated; Khelgar was in the way now and though he didn't care about injuring the Dwarf, and it would be his own fault, it would be a waste of power to hit him rather than the Gargoyle. The Gargoyle hesitated as it looked at Ammon Jerro and then the swiftly approaching Dwarf. Khelgar though didn't hesitate and as the Gargoyle retreated back into the shadows of the corridor Khelgar followed without breaking stride for an instant.
"Come back you damn fool!" Ammon Jerro snarled, trotting across to where he could look down the corridor.
Khelgar was already out of sight, though Ammon Jerro could hear the sound of happy Dwarf swearing echoing back from where Khelgar was trying to encourage the Gargoyle to stand and fight. Ammon Jerro took a few more steps and his expression soured even more as he saw the dark shadow of the mouth of a cross-corridor not far away. Whether Khelgar had kept straight on or turned Ammon Jerro could not tell. A tracker might have been able to read how the dust had been disturbed, but they had enjoyed the pleasure of killing Bishop and he'd been their only one of those.
Ammon Jerro glanced back towards where the unconscious Qara and Blake lay. It was tempting to bring some rocks down on the impudent Sorceress' head. Nothing in her arcane skills would protect her against having her skull split but, as clumsy as the armour he wore was, Blake's helmet had already saved him from that fate once. A few rocks scattered over them would be far more fatal for her than him and the Dwarf was not smart enough to realise it would have been no accident. With a growl Ammon Jerro put aside the pleasing image of a dead Qara, her insults repaid, and continued in pursuit instead.
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Blake had woken with his head pounding as if it was the morning after a party with a God of Alcohol, but between those waves of pain his thoughts seemed to be coming clearer despite how the room spun and blurred around him as he tried to sit up to look around more. If Khelgar had been there he'd have told Blake this, and your stomach threatening to show you its contents again, was normal. The longer you slept after taking that potion the better you felt on waking and Blake had barely slept at all. After blinking several times to attempt to clear his sight Blake tried to look around the room without moving his head too much. There beside him was Qara, still unconscious, and there peering out of a corridor was some sort of Gargoyle.
As carefully as Blake tried to move he again nearly passed out, and the groan this produced, though soft, seemed to reach the ears of the Gargoyle. It turned and looked towards where this had come from and locked eyes with Blake. As the Gargoyle started towards him Blake decided there was perhaps time for one spell and that he doubted he'd be able to concentrate long enough to cast more than one anyway, so this had to count.
'I'm sorry Neeshka,' he thought, accepting he was about to die and leave her, and then he chose his spell. Qara was around the corner of the pile of stones they were leaning against so there was a chance the Gargoyle had not seen her. Thankful that learning to not let armour affect his spells had meant learning to not have to move his hands as much Blake made subtle gestures with one hand around that corner as he tried to speak softly but clearly and without vomiting. Hoping the Gargoyle could not see his gesturing or Qara, or hear those arcane words, Blake cast a Greater Invisibility on the unconscious Sorceress.
The Gargoyle reached Blake and stood looking down at him. Blake glared with as much defiance as he could muster and waited for the attack. He wished he could gather enough strength to shift position and draw his dagger. With how he was lying and sitting the stones supporting his back were in the way of this and the weight of his shield over the left side of his body was enough, with his armour, to keep him pinned down. The Gargoyle seemed unusually apprehensive though as it hesitated rather than striking with the bloodlust of its kind's reputation.
Finally it moved and Blake swung his arm back from where he'd left it after casting the spell. This punch was even feebler than he'd feared and the Gargoyle ignored it as its taloned hands closed on him. To Blake's surprise rather than tearing at his face inside his helmet or these talons trying to find gaps between plates or push through chainmail links the Gargoyle just picked him up. Though this was quite gently done blackness crowded in from the corners of Blake's vision as this movement overwhelmed his efforts to remain conscious. The last thing he felt was as slight tug as his cloak snagged and the Gargoyle finished the job Neeshka had started of tearing it free.
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Ammon Jerro cursed as he re-entered the hall, saw the retreating Gargoyle, and saw what it was cradling in its arms. He'd been gone no more than a few dozen seconds and this had happened. Glancing to where Qara had been lying Ammon Jerro saw nothing and felt a grim satisfaction that whatever had taken her was already out of sight and so impossible to pursue. With luck the girl was dead and if he was ever asked he would say that, as he had been tempted to arrange, her skull had been split. Blake though had earned some minor effort to save him with his actions against the King of Shadows and his friendship to Ammon's granddaughter Shandra. If she had been willing to sacrifice her life to save Blake then Ammon felt he should at least make a small attempt. Drawing his sword and preparing his Eldritch powers he continued through the hall and after the Gargoyle, his tattoos glowing like a beacon in the dark.
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Cautiously Neeshka slithered through the gap between some fallen debris and the ceiling the incomplete collapse of the corridor above had left. She had been making good progress but had needed to circle around quite widely to get back on what felt like the right route. So it had been a surprise to hear Khelgar bellowing and realise this was coming from behind her as she'd been trying to try to catch up with the others rather than to get ahead of them. Sliding down the other side of the fallen debris and regaining her feet Neeshka hurried on. She almost instinctively kept her footsteps from making all but the slightest sound and this quietness let her hear heavier footsteps from ahead. Neeshka pressed herself further into the shadows as she approached the corridor junction and peered into the darkness ahead.
She would have done this anyway, but she could tell these footsteps were the slapping of heavy bare feet rather than the thudding of boot heels and she knew none of her friends were barefoot or weighed that much. A winged figure hurried across where the corridors crossed and then out of sight. Even that brief glimpse had looked ominous to Neeshka so she was not sure whether to follow and hope it would lead her to the others or not. The decision became easier though as another form crossed the same intersection, again little more than a silhouette but with a familiar pattern of light decorating it.
Neeshka felt her eyes narrow as she thought. Was the warlock to be trusted? He'd worked against them for a long time before they realised that despite the murders he'd committed and the confused stories from decades ago he was fighting the King of Shadows rather than being the King of Shadows. In his struggle against that foe he had made pacts with Infernals and had bound other Demons and Devils to his service. He could easily have abandoned the others and now be following a servant he had summoned to lead him out of here. Something about the way he and the winged figure had moved though suggested Ammon Jerro was chasing the other rather than simply following. Almost silently Neeshka slipped around the corner and down the corridor after them, ready to give Ammon Jerro either help or a blade in the guts depending on whether he had deserted her harbour-boy.
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Back at the round hall Khelgar plodded in, a little peeved that Ammon Jerro had not helped him in the chase. He'd not been moving that fast and going around that many corners had he? This slight self-examination ended as Khelgar realised both Ammon Jerro and Blake were gone, and the latter should still be sleeping and would not have left Qara behind if he had woken prematurely. Khelgar moved across to Qara who was stirring and, unknown to him, had only just become visible again. Stooping Khelgar picked her up again and started towards the stairs, hoping they had cooled enough. She shifted position in his arms and made a small noise before speaking.
"Watch…"
"Watch?" asked Khelgar, bringing one ear closer to her lips.
"Watch where you put your hands," Qara complained weakly, "or you'll find your beard burned off."
Khelgar chuckled for a moment, making Qara frown at him for being amused rather than scared, before replying. "Glad ye're feeling back to your normal self."
Of course the problem was, Khelgar thought as he continued to and up the stairs, that Ammon Jerro might also be back to his normal self. Back to being an evil bastard that would happily have double-crossed them. Khelgar vowed that he was going to get out of here and then he was going to remind Lord Nasher how much was owed and was going to get as many trackers and scouts and scrying-mages as he needed to find Blake. With that determination in his heart, and Qara in his arms, Khelgar plodded on.
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Ammon Jerro cursed as he saw a second Gargoyle had joined the one he was chasing. If the Dwarf was going to be so stupid as fall for a diversion and go chasing off the least he could do was keep up with what he was chasing. There was a slight shimmer ahead of the Gargoyles and Ammon Jerro recognised it as a portal. Eldritch energy leapt from his hand and into the back and wings of one Gargoyle, staggering but not felling it. This did at least show Ammon Jerro he had aimed for the wrong Gargoyle as it had grabbed at the wall to keep on its feet, something the other with its burden of Blake would not be able to do.
He was catching them and soon would be close enough to not need to shape his Eldritch Blast into a spear for extra range. Instead he could shape it into a chain that would jump between and stagger both Gargoyles at once. Then he could do this again and again and drive them to the floor. But Ammon Jerro snarled as he saw that soon was not soon enough as the Gargoyles shimmered and passed through the portal. This could be set to close the moment they were through so he plunged through after them.
Around him the world twisted and changed. He'd often used portals so this was not an unfamiliar experience, but before he could recover from the momentary disorientation he was already under attack. The flesh of his chest seemed to writhe like maggots as a Disintegrate struck him and the magic tried to tear him apart into dust. He was tough enough to resist but the effort still drained him and then magical missiles pelted him as his opponent followed up with a Greater Missile Storm. Even this extra attack was not enough to stop Ammon Jerro, but it was more than enough to drive him deeper into rage. Gathering his own power he glared at the red-robed woman moving back behind her Gnoll bodyguards and snarled as he recognised her.
"You! What business have you with this man?" Ammon demanded, gesturing towards where the two Gargoyles had retreated.
"That business would be… none of your business."
With that the Gnolls attacked and Ammon Jerro realised there had been others flanking the portal as well. The axe swinging in from ahead of him was easy enough to sidestep, and his own sword drove another Gnoll back as it had to parry, but then a hammer slammed into his back. Ammon Jerro felt a rib break, a feeling he had learned to recognise during the tortures he had suffered on the lower planes, and fell forward onto one knee. The pain was irrelevant to him but before he could regain his feet another Disintegrate struck and to his annoyance Ammon Jerro found the ground rushing up to meet him.
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Neeshka slipped through the portal just as Ammon Jerro made one feeble effort to push himself up onto his hands before collapsing back unconscious into the dirt. She could see her harbour-boy but she also knew how close she had been behind Ammon Jerro. He had not been far down the corridor when he vanished into the portal and she had only paused very briefly to use the Ring of Invisibility those Fey had given her harbour-boy, and he'd given her, to aid her own skills at remaining unseen. It was a shock how swiftly Ammon Jerro had been defeated, but at least their victory had distracted them and she wasn't unhappy to see him with his face in the mud. Neeshka moved away from the portal and around towards the Gargoyles, just in time to avoid being stepped on as a third Gargoyle came through.
The red-robed woman shifted her attention to Blake as the portal behind her vanished with the arrival of the Gargoyle that had provided the distraction. Neeshka had to restrain a hiss of breath from escaping between her teeth as even in the dark of twilight she recognised the robes and the bald tattooed head and realised she was facing a Red Wizard of Thay. The reputation of those wizards, plus the three Gargoyles standing there, and the Gnolls shuffling around, and how quickly Ammon Jerro had fallen suggested that even if Tymorra blessed her with luck and skill she'd not bless her with victory. Not if she had to fight alone at least and it did not look like either of the men were going to wake up any time soon.
"Hrhuuh, finish him Headmistress?" one Gnoll finally asked, waving one paw towards Ammon Jerro, as the Red Wizard continued to look at Blake.
"No," the Red Wizard said with a smile that Neeshka yearned to remove with her rapier. "The warlock may yet have a use, better to sacrifice him than someone more valuable." The Red Wizard spent a moment contemplating the unconscious Blake before continuing to speak. "Whether you like it or not you will also play your part. We shall give you no choices so everything you do will advance my plans and work towards freeing my love. First though we shall need to prepare you."
Neeshka did not like the sound of this and not just because that Red Wizard sounded so smug about her plans. One of the things she found most annoying about Blake, and one of the things she most dearly loved about him, was his willingness to help people. If this Red Wizard knew enough about him to have chosen him for her plans then she also knew she could have just asked. It could simply be that she was as arrogant as she looked and sounded and asking rather than taking had never occurred to her. Or it could be her plans were evil enough she had known Blake would refuse despite the gratitude opening a portal to let them escape the collapsing fortress would have earned.
"You," the Red Wizard ordered, pointing at a Gnoll, "and the rest of you. Take the warlock to the Academy."
"Yes Headmistress," the Gnoll replied, picking Ammon Jerro up without much gentleness.
Neeshka hesitated a moment as the Gnolls started away and her enemies split up. If she followed the Gnolls then she might be able to ambush them and if she could revive Ammon Jerro she'd have more chance against a Red Wizard and three Gargoyles. If she followed the Gnolls though she would lose sight of her harbour-boy. Cautiously Neeshka moved, making sure she didn't kick up any dust with her invisible footsteps, trying to keep everyone in sight and see how far this Academy was. If it was too close by there would be no chance of an ambush, but…wait, no!
Too late Neeshka realised the Red Wizard was making arcane gestures and another portal was shimmering into existence. Neeshka had barely started moving back when the Red Wizard and her Gargoyles stepped into the portal. Despair overwhelmed caution and Neeshka started almost running, not caring about stealth, but the portal dwindled behind the group almost the instant they entered. It took most of Neeshka's willpower to keep her cursing inaudible and for a minute all she could do was stare at where the portal had been.
A hard murderous look came in her eyes and Neeshka turned and padded after the Gnolls as silently as a cat chasing those dogs. Her lips, absent their normal grin, thinned further as she saw how close the Academy was. The Gnolls were already passing through what looked like the first of a series of gates set in high walls. Neeshka looked up at the hills overlooking these walls and then nodded slightly to herself. Silently Neeshka crept up onto the ridgeline to see if the Red Wizards had been stupid enough to build walls like that and not allow for them being bypassed.
They had not been that stupid, they had taken precautions, but the alarms and traps they had set were as obvious to Neeshka as if they were glowing in the dark. It still took her a moment or two to disable or move around each one however and it took a while to study the Academy buildings for vulnerable windows or doors. By the time Neeshka was creeping back to where the portal had been hours had passed and she was becoming worried the Headmistress might have returned during one of the short times Neeshka had been out of sight of the road.
Another bout of cursing almost escaped Neeshka as she reached where she could look down at where they had arrived. The portal was just shimmering back out of existence, the Red Wizard was a bare stride or two past it, and she was alone. Blake was not with her, so he was missing. The Gargoyles were not with her, so she'd have not had their protection if Neeshka had returned a few minutes sooner and been in a better position to pounce. Neeshka slid and clambered down the hill as fast as she could without revealing her presence but the Red Wizard was also hurrying. Before Neeshka was even halfway down the Headmistress was already around the corner and in sight of the Gnolls on the guard towers.
Neeshka paused a moment and then reversed her steps, first to the top of the hill and then back across to the Academy. Having gone that way twice, there and back, the third trip through and around the alarms and traps went a lot quicker so she was in sight of the Academy doors when the Red Wizard, with the escort of Gnolls she had gained on the short journey, entered the building. Neeshka thought and then looked at the tower jutting upwards into the night sky. They had called that Wizard "headmistress" and she'd probably want to look down on people physically as well as in all other ways. With a slight sigh Neeshka resigned herself to a long climb, glad that at least she was still carrying her wall scaling tools.
By the time she approached the top of the tower her muscles were really beginning to ache. There had been few buildings in Neverwinter this height, maybe none save the castle itself, so she had underestimated how hard it would be. If a light had not appeared in a window above her as she screwed yet another spike into the gap between two stone blocks Neeshka knew she might even have given up. Seeing that light and having it to aim for had helped a lot. Neeshka eased herself up the last few feet and could hear raised voices from within the room. Carefully she peered around the corner of the window frame and saw she was right, that light was coming from the room in which her prey was.
The Headmistress was not alone though. There was a second strikingly similar looking, though far younger, Red Wizard in the room with her who was protesting about how much work she had to do at the Academy while a trio of misshapen little things flapped around. Finally the Headmistress jerked one hand up in a silencing gesture and the other Red Wizard's flow of words shuddered to a stop.
"You are my daughter," the Headmistress said simply. "The only one I can trust with this. I know how busy you are, both as your Headmistress and as your mother, so I ask you to trust my judgement when I say this task is more important than your duties here."
The younger Red wizard nodded, reluctantly and slowly. "So what is it I have to do in this 'absence of a few days' then?"
"There…there will be a man," replied her mother, rather hesitantly, "he might be angry, he will be wounded, and you are to help him. You are to take him to Mulsantir and a woman called Lienna."
"Mulsantir? They hate Red Wizards there, what are you not telling me mother?"
"You will have a disguise, and I am not telling you a great many things. The less you know the more honest you can be when telling this man you do not know the answers to the questions he will have. Lienna will explain more to both of you, but this will be after you have had the journey to Mulsantir to convince him of your trustworthiness."
"I dislike being kept ignorant," the younger Red Wizard said flatly, "but I will trust your judgement in this as well."
"Good," said her mother with some relief. "I suggest you wear your robes and show your tattoos when you first meet this man. Let him know you are a Red Wizard rather than hide it and risk him realising this and start to wonder what else you are hiding."
Neeshka felt her eyes narrow as she heard this. It was a well-practised con, reveal some 'secret' that would be discovered anyway and use that revelation to argue that you had been open and honest. She'd tried to teach her harbour-boy to be less trusting but he'd never lost his willingness to take people at face value, though he had gained the power to make them regret betraying the trust he had extended.
"One more thing," the Headmistress said as she handed over a bag of supplies, "however angry the man is you should be patient, treat him as if you love him."
Her daughter glanced into the bag and then looked askance at her mother. "Why would I love someone who is a stranger to me?"
"Love can strike suddenly," the older Red Wizard replied with a strange distant smile, "but, to answer your actual question, you don't have to. Just treat him that way, please."
For a long moment mother and daughter looked at each other. The daughter wondering at the strangeness of that instruction and what had put that look on her mother's face and the Headmistress waiting to see if her daughter would ask rather than just look inquiringly at her. Finally the moment broke as the younger Red Wizard nodded once and closed the bag.
"A portal has been set to take you to Rashemen," the Headmistress informed her daughter, "you will arrive just outside the barrow of the Bear-god Okku, inside which you will find the man. I suggest you send two of your homunculi to Mulsantir ahead of you."
As the two Red Wizards started walking together across the room Neeshka looked back down the tower, judging where she could maybe shave a few seconds off her descent. It was going to be hard to get down the outside of the tower and through the hills before this younger wizard managed to get down the stairs and along the road but she had to try. She might be able to get a few seconds lead anyway as the pair of red robed scumsuckers were not heading towards the stairs, wait…why were they not heading towards the stairs?
Neeshka lingered a moment watching in through the window, hoping she was not wasting valuable time, and then the Headmistress returned alone. The expression on her face was pensive, as if she had committed herself to doing something and was now having the second thoughts and doubts that often came crowding in when it was too late to do anything about them. Neeshka realised there must have been another portal in that other room and for a moment her grip on the stonework weakened in her despair.
Nearly falling jolted Neeshka out of her thoughts and she began to climb down, blank faced and focussing only on the climb and then the escape back out into the hills. She looked around calmly, judged she was somewhere quite safe, and then collapsed into tears. She had not agreed much with the priests of Helm that had raised her in the orphanage but she hoped they were right. That the Vigilant One as God of Guardians would be watching over Blake and protecting him as Blake had protected her and then Neverwinter. Failing that Neeshka hoped that Hoar would bless her in revenge on these Thayans. They were quiet tears and soon over as releasing them let her determination reawaken. Even if she had to find some other way to follow she was going to find Blake, there could not be many Bear-gods called Okku or many towns called Mulsantir.
"There is actually only one of each," a voice said from the darkness, "but neither would you reach in time."
"Who's there?" Neeshka demanded, springing to her feet and adding after a moment, "and how in the Hells did you know what I was thinking?"
"Blood calls to blood and kin to kin," Mephasm said, stepping into the moonlight, "and your blood resonates more strongly since Black Garius' attempt at a binding ritual touched it. My congratulations, by the way, on your willpower in overcoming it."
Neeshka's eyes narrowed as she looked at Mephasm. His appearance was that of a rather mild looking Elf whose only unusual features were his blue skin and unusual eyes but she knew that was deceptive. Despite his lack of wings or talons or fangs and the absence of Infernal fires surrounding him he had been one of the most powerful and almost certainly the most intelligent of those of the lower planes Ammon Jerro had bound to his service. Neeshka trusted the timing of his arrival almost as little as she trusted Mephasm's references to 'kin' or the flattery of his congratulations.
"What do you want?" Neeshka asked, some slight hostility leaking into her tone.
"Revenge, but under laws greater than either of us I cannot act directly. If I aid you though then we both may benefit. I with my revenge and you in removing the man you love from the snare of his kidnapper's plans."
"And what," Neeshka said, suspicion dripping from ever word, "will that cost me?"
"A minor service," Mephasm admitted vaguely, "of no harm to you or anyone you love or even like. In return I will teleport you to Okku's burrow."
Neeshka wavered, there seemed no other way to get there in time and though she had been right Mephasm would require payment even for something that would benefit him this did not sound a vast price. To save her harbour-boy she'd have been willing to accept being harmed, but this deal sounded too reasonable. Was she going to have to sacrifice strangers that she didn't love or like? How would Blake react if she did something terrible even if she was doing it for him?
Mephasm watched the emotions play across Neeshka's face and hid his own smile as he gestured. "Here… as a gesture of my good faith, in this transaction at least."
There was a muted flash of light and a large chest appeared, then a second muted flash and a sword belt complete with scabbarded sword joined it. Neeshka moved forward both through curiosity and to steady the sword that was sliding slightly off the rounded top of the chest. She recognised it as she steadied it and turned slightly suspiciously back to Mephasm who was calmly watching.
"Where did you get this?" Neeshka demanded, glaring a little.
"It was on its way back to Crossroad Keep. When your lover reforged the Sword of Gith he realised such a weapon was not to be casually used and so rather than just set aside the sword he had been using he sent it to have the enchantments upon it strengthened. It served him well before and will serve him well again."
"And the chest?"
"From the same well guarded caravan. A gift from him to you which was delayed, along with his sword, by the chaos engendered by the march of the King of Shadows."
Neeshka looked at Mephasm a moment longer and then setting the sword to one side fiddled with the chest. It was locked, and with a very good lock, but Neeshka soon had it open and was looking at the set of armour within and the rapier resting on top of it. The same instincts that let her recognise what the best loot was from a haul were screaming at her about the quality of the workmanship.
"I suggest you take them," Mephasm prompted as Neeshka continued to just look at the items, "the magics on them cost him as much as rebuilding half his keep and will be most helpful in allowing you to achieve your goals so my goals can also be met."
Neeshka looked very unsure, if she took these then she was agreeing to the deal, but what choice did she have? She nodded and slung the sword belt over her shoulder before closing and sitting on the chest. Mephasm hesitated a moment, while Neeshka looked at him as if saying 'you expect me to get changed in front of you?', and then he smiled and gestured again. With another muted flash Neeshka and the chest vanished and Mephasm allowed his smile to grow now she was not there to witness this. Even if this was not to succeed the amusement was already worth the minor use of power.