Even through the lashing rain she could still smell the dried blood on Casavir's armour – and that which had soaked into her furs, too. Still, Isaviel was glad for the rain, which had come upon them suddenly, clouds gathering over the once perfect sky just as the stars had started winking into visibility. The cold, trickling droplets brought some relief after Casavir's tireless march through the mountains. They had strayed far from the path, leaving their packs behind in the cave , hidden behind a great boulder that had required uncomfortable teamwork from Casavir, Khelgar and Bishop, too.
As darkness had fully fallen Khelgar and Isaviel had been given the greater natural advantage – the Dwarf was of a race well adapted for the pitch black of underground caves, while the Moon Elf had been born with something better than the lowlight vision of her mother's kin. Elanee had been quick to change into the form of an owl, drifting almost silently above them from rock to rock, while Casavir led the way, his glowing hammer lighting the path with unsubtle blue radiance. It did not seem to be in a paladin's life code to be subtle. Karnwyr had taken to prowling in the gap between Casavir and Isaviel while his master brought up the rear of the group, preferring to carry a torch than travel in the paladin's blue light.
When Casavir stopped, leaning against a particularly steep section of jagged stone to peer around it to his right, and Karnwyr began to snarl quietly at the scent it caught from the Orcs below, the others were quick to join him. Khelgar was having trouble seeing over the rocks concealing them and Bishop had to put out his torch to keep their cover.
"Have you no way of covering up that light?" Isaviel demanded of Casavir, gesturing towards the glowing hammer he held. When he turned to her to respond, his smile was as unexpected as it was bright.
"'There is no, need, my lady, for no evil soul can see that light."
A little taken aback by the warmth of his words, Isaviel grew silent and the four stood and watched, Elanee perched on the boulder and looking down also, her owl's eyes large and reflective. In the silence Isaviel concentrated on the cold sting of the water to keep her alert. She felt somehow connected to her surroundings and safer for it, cooling to the temperature, breathing with the rhythm of the wind – which was not so bitter and violent as earlier in the day. Her hair hung in long dripping strands by now and droplets had collected on her long lashes, trickling like tears over her face when she blinked. The burn of her cut had returned and with it had come that ache in her chest where her scar ran.
"There are too many," Bishop stated darkly.
They all knew he was right as they watched scores of Orcs returning to the wide cave mouth below, almost as impervious to the weather as she felt, though their armour tinkled in the rain loudly enough to mingle with the similar sound on Casavir's steel plate. They carried torches, and most were large and burly, armed with a variety of more crude, Orcish weaponry and better steel, many with large upward jutting tusks rising from their prognathic jaws. A few were limping as if from battle, but they carried no wounded with them. Isaviel assumed they just did not have room for healing in their battle plan.
"We cannot turn back now," the paladin said firmly, not looking around.
"There are too many…here," Isaviel put in eventually, a slow smile growing on her face.
"What is your plan, my lady?"
"I'll tell you if you start admitting to yourself that I have a name. You can't bind me to duty with a false title."
"Very well. Forgive me…Isaviel. What do you have in mind?" Casavir corrected himself awkwardly, and Bishop chuckled to himself when the paladin stumbled over the Moon Elf's name for the first time.
"Good," she could not avoid her sneer, pushing back her hair as she considered her idea, "Have you noticed that the Orcs have human armour?"
"Yes, but we assumed they had simply stolen…"
"From the dead? Sir Callum told us they must be being supplied by someone before we set out, and that makes much more sense. They are too well armed to just be thieving. Someone has to be supplying them. And not through here, where all the clan can see. There must be a back entrance…"
"And those Orcs dig down, not across," Khelgar grunted in resignation – Isaviel knew that he would have much preferred to just try to storm the place, no matter how many Orcs they faced at the front entrance, "It won't be far – and it shouldn't be hard to find."
"This entrance you speak of…I believe I know where it must be," Casavir nodded, then paused, looking at Isaviel only, "Your deduction is admirable."
The Moon Elf grinned at Khelgar, who gave her the wryest look she could have believed possible from his outwardly gruff, bearded countenance.
"I could not have done that alone, Sir Paladin," she mocked.
Off to the side, Bishop watched them darkly for a moment longer before standing and stalked away back down the dark path with a grunt of disgust.
"You see."
Isaviel smiled triumphantly, brazenly stepping out into the narrow path as if to prove her point. From this remote, south easterly vantage point she fancied she would just be able to make out the bridge at which she had been ordered to meet Callum's men. Never one for following orders, it gave her greater satisfaction to not be able to see it than otherwise. Beyond it, beyond the great Sword Mountains that rose far higher than the comparative hills among which she stood, would be the distant gloomy grey-green swamp that was the Mere of Dead Men, Meredelain; the Slow-Marching Court. Its main town, its sole human settlement, was West Harbour, her childhood village.
"No point lookin' for home now, lass," Khelgar told her, patting her arm as he stepped out to join her, "We've a job to do."
Isaviel sighed and nodded, her large golden eyes meeting his deep-set brown ones. She had grown to trust the Dwarf for his great honesty, something which Neeshka sorely lacked, but she also wondered often why he favoured her so. At times it seemed like he had taken on an almost fatherly role despite his regular complaints about Elanee's Elvish ways, in spite of the druid actually being human. Neeshka had suggested flippantly that he was just glad to have someone around who was closer to his height. Isaviel had been quick to respond that Neeshka's view was clearly warped, as she was uncommonly tall and must have inherited her height from a pit fiend. The memory made the Moon Elf smile to herself.
"And we are finally here," Bishop sighed.
As the ranger reaching the Dwarf and the Moon Elf he brandished his brightly burning torch across the small tunnel entrance, roughly hewn out of the stone but evidently not natural, revealing only deep darkness. Boulders and stones reared up on three sides, barely parting to their left to allow the steep road they had just descended, while the path sloping drastically down behind them took an even more significant drop not far away.
The hoot of an owl quietened the group just as Casavir gained the broader, flatter path to join them, his armour screeching horribly against the stones as he took the last few steps down the incline followed by Karnwyr. Elanee dropped down, transforming with an eerie fluidity of forms into her human shape, feathers elongating to become her dress, large bird's eyes shrinking to a more human size and altering in colour as her face became clear.
"Greetings once more, druidess," Casavir smiled, and she nodded to him with a blush, an interaction which made Isaviel wince – were all paladin's taught to deepen girlish fancies aimed their way, or were they simply told to milk that issue for all it was worth? She wondered.
"And greetings to you," Elanee responded shyly, turning swiftly to Isaviel, "I have spied the Greycloak forces along the path to the front entrance of the lair, led by Callum himself and Lord Casavir's men as well. They will be upon the Orcs shortly – we must act quickly. I hope you know where to find Issani – and Logram, Isaviel."
"I am not certain," the Moon Elf admitted, "But I have a strong hunch."
The scar on her chest was aching horribly – it had done so both in the presence of the Dark Wizard, Garius's magic when he was consulting with Moire, just as it had for Bladelings and Giths. That would suggest then that within the lair awaited the cult's priests which the note left at the Thieves' Guild hideout had mentioned. What was more, she could feel the shadows, thicker than the darkness of the night, emanating from the tunnel in a way she had not felt so strongly at the front entrance. In all likelihood, either Logram or the emissary would be close to the priests or their activities – hopefully both. After a moment, the Moon Elf nodded.
"I know what to do."
"Wonderful. Are you ready yet?" Bishop demanded roughly, but Isaviel rolled her eyes and otherwise ignored him.
"Elanee – could you stay out here with Khelgar? I think a bear might be a little more useful than a scouting owl now, though."
"Yes, of course," but the druid looked uncomfortable, "Although I do not know how much more of Nature's magic I can call upon to maintain such a form."
"Well, we don't intend to be in there all that long. You can always pray to your Chauntea for aid, right?" Bishop mocked, which drew a hoped-for growl of chivalric warning from Casavir.
"And Bishop," Isaviel added pointedly, turning to the ranger, "Do you think you can control your wolf long enough to make him stay here with Elanee and Khelgar?"
The ranger just sneered at her, but a simple look between him and Karnwyr seemed to change the wolf's attitude. The animal realigned itself to face the way down the road, prowling back and forth across the path like a guard dog on a leash.
"Yer wantin' me to stay out here with a fake bear and a real wolf then, lass?" Khelgar asked softly, his eyes showing his disappointment in the dim light cast by Bishop's torch, its flames warring with Casavir's blue glow for dominance.
"I'm sorry, Khelgar," Isaviel told him, putting a hand on his broad shoulder and finding she did mean her apology, "But I need you out here, yes. You're the strongest fighter amongst us and I will feel safer in there knowing I have you as my guard."
"Well, that's true enough," he admitted with a grin now, his chest puffing out just that little bit more with the compliment, patting her hand, "Fight well, lass."
"Don't you doubt it," she laughed, then turned to Bishop and Casavir, looking at each sternly, "Now, do you two think that you can work together well enough to join me in there?"
"As long as I get to see some blood," Bishop snarled, unsheathing his longsword ominously with an impressive ringing sound.
"I am honour bound to see this through, my lady…Isaviel," Casavir half-bowed.
"Alright then," Isaviel shrugged, bringing her hands to the hilts of her kukris as she bypassed them all, heading for the tunnel entrance, "Let's go. Bishop, if you would be so kind…" she prompted, and the pair went into the darkness together, followed a few moments later by Casavir.
As soon as they stepped into the tunnel proper, Isaviel just a little ahead of Bishop, who had discarded his torch to risk the darkness, knowing the Orcs would have lights regardless, the Moon Elf could feel the strange shadows; she could see them dancing, darker than the blackness. Evidently magical for it. Neither Casavir nor Bishop seemed to see them though, which only made Isaviel more curious. As she pressed on, her feet perfectly silent on the uneven ground, seeing the broad flames of a torch in a rudimentary sconce ahead where the opening tunnel was intersected by a broad, better established one, she fancied she could feel her body linking to the dark as it had to the rain. She could feel herself calming, as she had taught herself to, her body lightening.
In the light of the flame ahead were cast the shadows of two sentries, barely three feet away. Isaviel paused, bringing a hand up against Bishop's chest to stop him walking into her as a third form moved along the broad tunnel beyond, carrying a torch of its own.
"What are you?" he mouthed suspiciously, seeing the shadowy insubstantiality of her fingertips deliberately curling over the rim of his tunic to touch his neck. It was the least of the tormenting he deserved after his earlier treatment of her. She pointedly did not answer, and looked back towards her prey.
Gesturing for him to wait, knowing he could see the confident smirk on her lips in the dim light, Isaviel crept ahead, unsheathing her kukris in one slow, silent motion. Dreading the moment Casavir's armour began to scrape horribly along the narrow opening passage, she knew she had to get there first before the sound alerted the sentries. In truth she would have preferred that Khelgar had joined her and the paladin had stayed outside, but she suspected Casavir would have been too stubborn about his duty, and that would have led to arguments with Bishop. She needed the ranger's stealth – and against the famed brutality of Orcs, she would need his bloody-mindedness, too.
Not giving herself too much time to think about her exposed position as she reached the mouth of the tunnel, the Moon Elf lashed outwards with both kukris, sending both Orc sentries to the ground. She was momentarily alarmed by her own action when one beast was decapitated, in spite of the vicious reputation of those weapons she favoured. Still, she only smiled sweetly at Bishop when he looked surprised by her brutal handiwork. And just that little bit impressed, too.
Sharing a vicious grin, they headed left quickly, the ranger almost matching her silence and not questioning how she knew which direction to turn. Hopefully Casavir would think to move the bodies –and have time to see in which direction they went.
This path was much dark than the alternative, where no torches were hung, the combination of hewn rock and thick soil dimly aglow with the eerie green radiance of underground lichen and fungi. Isaviel was acutely aware of the lack of guards along this route, as well as an absence of any new branching passageway. Why so linear? Why the shadows pulling her closer, and the ache in her chest only reinforcing her resolve? The silence seemed thicker somehow as she descended ever further. It seemed unnatural, like the place had been intentionally muffled. The darkness also felt…wrong, making her skin itch and crawl, whereas ordinarily she loved the concealing shadows. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she wondered if Bishop felt it.
When the opening in the tunnel came, and the bright lights too, revealing a large cavern beyond full of flickering orange flames, Isaviel was not ready for what she saw. Hundreds of bodies, of humans and Orcs alike, lay strewn in untidy rows, all in various stages of decay. The smell, perhaps previously shielded by the same power creating the silence on the way there, assaulted her and Bishop both. It was a dreadful stench that had the Moon Elf almost on her knees, gagging until she could wrest control of herself, pulled up by the ranger, who was also struggling, coughing, a sickened look on his face.
A lone Orc was making his way gingerly over to the door at the far side of the cavern, opening the wooden portal there and vanishing beyond. Isaviel and Bishop were quick to follow. The Moon Elf feared those surrounding shadows more than the unforgiving light. Sprinting to the door, she almost forgot to pause, or to wait for her companion, who pressed a hand to the wood firmly to stop her recklessness, leaning against it and listening intently before nodding curtly.
Through the grating she saw no Orcs, just a battered, terribly thin man dumped on the cold stone ground. Undoubtedly this was the Waterdeep Emissary, from the crest embroidered on his tattered, bloodied tunic. Seeing this, Isaviel pushed the door open slowly and glanced back, past Bishop, to see Casavir reeling at the sight of the dead bodies across the cavern. The ranger followed her inside, staying at the door when they entered the small, roughly hewn chamber and she knelt in front of the emissary's barred cage.
"Issani," Isavile hissed, and the quivering young man looked up with a confused, frightened sound to meet her eyes.
Upon seeing the beautiful, if dishevelled, Elf kneeling before his cage door, attempting to break its lock, he almost collapsed backwards in relief.
"You are sent by the gods," he gasped hoarsely, bloodshot eyes wide, stopping her efforts by placing one withered hand on hers, "Truly, a Celestial. B-but you must listen to me. There are priests of Shadow here. They talk of raising the dead to build an army and march on Neverwinter."
"Priests of shadow?" Isaviel echoed – although she had read of it in the note, the fear in Issani's eyes had the truth of it make her blood run cold and a chill fluttered up her spine.
"What in all the Hells have I got myself into?" Bishop growled from the door, "And that paladin is going to get us all killed, lingering to administer last rights to fallen comrades."
"You must stop the Orcs," Issani whispered quickly, imploringly, "Kill their chieftain, Logram Eyegouger, and they will attack Neverwinter's outpost no more."
The emissary fell silent then, gesturing for her to do the same and pointing towards the heavy door set in the wall to the right. Understanding, Isaviel crept closer to the iron portal, pressing herself back against the wall among the deepest shadows, listening intently.
"We supplied you to attack the humans, but instead you have suffered many defeats. Your Orcs are weak, Logram," a deep voice was growling menacingly. Human, as she had expected, with an accent that almost sounded like that of a Harbourman…
"If not for the Katalmach, your Shadow Priests would have more dead than they can count, but he strikes without warning or fear," a rough, ponderous voice was explaining – an Orc, "But I do not follow your master, this 'Black Garius', that self-styled 'Master of the Fifth Tower'. Our agreement was for my power over all the tribes and for we Orcs to be left at peace in the coming war…and when the time comes…"
Catching on to the importance of the conversation which the Moon Elf was overhearing, Bishop crept closer, daring to look through the gap in the slightly open door.
"In exchange for your tolerance of our presence," reminded a cold, almost metallic voice, thrumming with tainted power, "And to bolster our ranks of undead. So far you have only fully succeeded at one of these goals and have outrun our agreed time."
"I do not fear you, not you priests of Shadow and not your lord. Given more time…" the Orc was cut short by a cold laugh.
"Your time is up, Orc. Your Katalmach is here, his aura shines so brightly, casting away the darkness. Still," the voices seemed more distant, "Even the paladin's heart is heavy with shadows."
The low hum that had been growing stopped abruptly – and from the chieftain, Logram's hateful mutterings, his unusual guests had gone. His footsteps could be heard growing closer, and just before the door directly beside Isaviel swung open, Bishop moved swiftly, pulling her with him out of the way. He let go quickly, his longsword at the ready when they saw the massive Orc entering the room. Dressed in expensive hide armour and wielding a glittering greatsword, he was followed by several grumbling members of his kind. His blood red eyes surveyed the room, over every rough stone inch and empty torch sconce, passing over Isaviel to focus on Bishop.
Confused, the Moon Elf looked over at Issani to see him blinking about himself frantically, as if she had vanished. Come to think of it, she felt strangely light, and colder even than before. She could not feel the stone against her back anymore, or the ground against her feet. Looking down at herself as Casavir burst into the room, distracting most of the Orcs – including Logram – from Bishop, Isaviel saw that for the first time her entire body had become opaque, melded as one with shadows. Exulting in her success, she threw herself into the fray, startling both friends and enemies with her reappearance. But there was no more time for thought. They had an Orc chieftain to kill and an emissary to save.