Ryld stroked his uneven chin thoughtfully with his good hand, leaning on the polished stone table where he'd been eating his breakfast. The Yath'Abban's barracks included a room for general meals, though it was now deserted as usual. "Her rings contain powerful protective enchantments, at least one of which is against psionics. You're going to have to hit hard and fast, qu'essan."
Sabal nodded a little, buckling on her armor. "I expected that," she said, coolly. Her emotions were still in turmoil from her argument with Xullae. The inquisitor herself was absent, conveniently called out of the city to a small skirmish out in the tunnels.
"It is a dangerous move, attacking in the Fane itself. But bold. If you succeed, Yvonnel will approve. However, the risk is high," Ryld said cautiously.
"I will have the element of surprise. That is worth something," the girl said, buckling on her sword belt.
Ryld raised an eyebrow for a moment. This was not a Sabal he was used to. So far she had been hesitant about this endeavor, cautious. Now reckless seemed a more appropriate word. Like she had something to prove.
"Well, if you pull this off, I think everyone will be impressed," the scarred male drow said finally. He frowned slightly at the little flash on Sabal's hand. "Where'd you get that little trinket?"
"Xullae gave it to me some time ago. I don't usually wear it. Magic gives me a headache," she said with a sharp, almost feral grin.
"A ring of invisibility? You've grown up fast. I imagine it doesn't last too long," Ryld said with a little bit of a chuckle.
"Long enough."
"And you are ready to kill?" he pressed, acid-marred features twisting slightly. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. "This is not a training battle, Sabal. You will bring someone to their end. It is not going to be pretty. If you hesitate, you will die."
Sabal thought back upon her training matches with Xullae. She had learned not to pull her blows. To fight as though her life was on the line. And then there were those words. A sword does not make a choice. It does not decide who lives or dies. "Nhilae is already dead. She has been since the moment she betrayed the Goddess. I am only settling the matter."
Ryld's features contorted into an uneven grin. "Good girl, qu'essan. You have learned well from Xullae. Someday, you will be an inquisitor to be feared."
Yvonnel watched everything around her like a hawk as she stood at the altar near Nhilae, a silent assistant as the first ritual prayers began. Soon enough, a sacrifice would be drug in, but until then she had time to gather her thoughts. At least, for a moment.
Heretic...
The thought was a whisper in the thoughts of every priestess in the Fane, sending shivers up and down spines. Even Yvonnel froze for a moment before looking around. Nhilae stumbled over the words of the prayer and then lost her place, immediately pausing to twist one of her rings slightly on her finger and whisper an enchantment.
"Who dares intrude?" Nhilae barked, pivoting. "You-"
Everyone felt the sudden shift an instant before raw power seemed to explode from nowhere, flinging Nhilae against the altar and others to the ground. Yvonnel's head was ringing even as she tried to right herself. She had been around Xullae once in a battle, but this was beyond that. She was for a moment so terrifyingly aware of how fragile her body was, like a spider's web in the winds of a summoned gale.
Yvonnel sprang up and fell into a casting position, watching Nhilae clamber to her feet. The ring that she had used to protect herself was blistered and half destroyed, bubbling as it fused with the bone and flesh beneath it. The smell of seared tissue was a quick wake up call to the danger for the Reverend Daughter beside their traitor priest, however.
Does your Masked Lord protect you here, I wonder? Or are you putting your faith in House Baenre? They already have found the roots of your treachery. Soon they will know everything.
Nhilae glanced over her shoulder towards the darkening face of Triel Baenre and felt a shock of fear. If she confronted this accuser, it would be alone. And even if she won, she was going to be in one hell of a fix. But her confidence had carried her this far.
She looked back into feral amber eyes. A drowess, albeit a fairly young one, had seemingly materialized less than ten feet from her, blade already drawn. Beside her, there was a sharp and easily audible exhale from Yvonnel, who relaxed out of her casting stance. Nhilae hurled a bolt of crackling dark energy straight at her assailant who barely got out of the way in time, earning burns across one arm.
Sabal sprang like a cat, blade whipping up towards her foe's face. The parry from the dagger was feeble, but Nhilae managed to twist out of the way. Now the dance had begun, powerful divine magic trying desperately to disable the wilder who continued on despite everything thrown at her. Sabal was certainly not proof against the magic that was leveled against her, but she had come prepared after years of training.
Nhilae's grace shot was another bolt that scorched across Sabal's cheek, narrowly missing an amber eye. For a second, the wilder flinched back out of her assault, just enough to buoy Nhilae's confidence. It was not, however, enough to save her from the psionic strike that disabled her for just a split second. The amber-eyed girl twisted her hands and thrust from a high guard, point biting into ribs and slicing through bone with the force of a whole trained body behind it. Curses bubbled to Nhilae's lips, her hands glowing with withering energy as she grabbed for Sabal. The fingers that closed around the girl's arms burned, but did little beyond that. Most of the damage was soaked up by the extra pieces of armor from Ryld.
Blood was everywhere, on the blade, gushing out onto the altar. It looked black here in the low light of the braziers. Sabal wrenched back, her weapon sliding free neatly. The blood only came faster now, and she did the only thing she could think of. Sabal walled off her own mind, forcing herself to create distance as the mind she had been so close to for a few moments started to fade away with the sound of blood spreading across grooved stones.
"I suppose this has saved me some work," Matron Triel said, pulling herself up to her full height which was still markedly shorter than most of the other female drow in the room. She had done her best to compensate within House Baenre's compound itself, but here in the Church her less than impressive stature was obvious.
Yvonnel looked impressed despite herself. "You completed the task I set to you. Very good. Perhaps you would care to surrender the evidence here to the Church?"
Sabal wiped off her blade without looking at the body and then restored it to its sheath. As if on autopilot, she removed the sealed envelope from inside her armor with care, surrendering it to Yvonnel in silence. The culmination of all that careful preparation had been so fast that the young drowess felt a little stunned despite herself. Don't look at it. She would have killed you anyway. You did the right thing.
"You may go," Yvonnel said with a thin smile. "It seems you are worth the investment."
Sabal made it all the way back to the barracks of the Yath'Abban before being sick into a basin, her limbs trembling uncontrollably. She was still kneeling down and clinging to it in a haze when someone came in. No words were exchanged. Someone pulled Sabal up and gently wiped her face clean with a soft, damp cloth. She passed into nightmarish sleep, lulled only by the soothing hand stroking her hair.
"Amber eyes?" Quenthel said quietly, studying Triel's face. The two sisters had come together to confer upon the sudden absence of a powerful cleric in their House. It was always a cautious thing for them to meet, a pair of apex predators trapped in the same room. The game they played was subtle posturing, constantly measuring and evaluating for threats.
"Unmistakably so," the Matron of House Baenre said dryly. "You seem remarkably unconcerned about Nhilae's betrayal."
The Mistress of Arach'Tinilith rolled her shoulders in a loose shrug, fingers drumming a thoughtful rhythm on the surface of the elegant table between them. "We can always find another. Clearly she wasn't particularly useful."
"Didn't you know a male once with amber eyes?" Triel probed, watching her younger sister's expression with a patient care.
Quenthel arched an eyebrow delicately. "You expect me to remember them now? Perhaps. I cannot recall. It is an uncommon eye color, but not a particularly rare one."
"Yet it was the first question you had for me." Triel's counter was effortless.
"It merely seemed an odd detail for you to include. Still, clearly we will have to keep an eye on this one. I will not have Yvonnel parading this wilder around as her knife up the sleeve," the Mistress of Arach'Tinilith said. She was about as transparent as a block of granite, unfortunately for her older sister. Still, the Matron filed it away for future reference, banking on the fact that Quenthel wasn't telling her everything.
