Hello readers! Reviews would be most welcome, and I'd welcome constructive criticism as well as praise ;) - it would be nice to know what I'm doing wrong/right here...
"Oh, great," Isaviel groaned, "Just what I always wanted."
As soon as the companions had crossed through from the cavern a wall of flame had erupted behind them, stopping any retreat. This new, neatly panelled room bristled with about a score of Githyanki, armed in spiked leathers and vicious fury. And in their midst stood a huge glowing sphere, its power held by three rib-like arcs of stone. Within it stood…another Githyanki, this one somehow different. The placing of the leather clothing implied some kind of femininity, as did the narrower, less burly body. 'She' was glaring straight at Isaviel with malevolent yellow slit-like eyes set in a withered, wrinkled face. Her thick grey skin was mottled with a dim green, scraps of greyish hair pulled back in a topknot, much like the black ones of the warriors. Only beneath this rested some kind of shimmering silver coronet. Her hand was out as if to stop an immediate attack.
"Kalach-cha," the female Githyanki hissed, her rough voice echoing eerily through the portal and ringing through the blue tinted hall.
"Isaviel! Thank the gods!" Shandra's voice cried from a small cage at the far right corner, her figure just visible beyond the bars.
"Silence, prisoner!" the Githyanki leader exclaimed, and Isaviel could not help but hold back a smile of respect for Shandra's nerve – maybe there was more worth saving than a surname, after all, "And as for you, Kalach-cha, you were anticipated even if the Demons…and Devil…were not. I have seen you burning brightly in my visions for some time. How long did you think you could escape us? You have stolen our shards, defiled them with your touch. And now you will die, Shard-Bearer – Kalach-cha!"
"You attacked me first, before I had the shards. Doesn't that make all this your fault?" Isaviel's anger rose…if only to combat the agony tearing through her scar.
"No, you are a liar. You have always carried a shard with you, we have sensed it. I will enjoy killing you, just as I will leech the memories from the human woman's mind," the Githyanki spat.
"Wha…" Shandra gasped.
"We will save you, Shandra! Do not fear!" Casavir cried and Isaviel rolled her eyes, leaning back to whisper in Bishop's ear.
"If this turns into a battle, kill the paladin first, by all means," she told him and the ranger snorted.
"Your irreverence only makes the case for your death more solid," the Githyanki growled and Isaviel stood straight again.
"You seem awfully bothered about these shards, Gith."
"They are pieces of a broken silver sword, nothing more. You flatter yourself, humanling," but her demeanour seemed somehow less confident as she shifted her weight further back, glancing at her stoic warriors.
"Why don't you just give her the shards?" Qara groaned.
"Because they will kill us anyway. And I'm just too fascinated by what's so unique about this silver sword I'm getting together," Isaviel grinned when the Githyanki leader's expression flashed.
"I am Zeeaire, a Seer of my race. Your impudence is noted and will make your death all the sweeter. But I give you a chance to atone. My offer is this – I will grant you and your companions a swift death if you hand over your shards."
"I'm sure it will be your blood on this floor, not mine, before all my shards are in your possession…" Isaviel stopped abruptly as an odd coldness spread through her and Zeeaire laughed mockingly, a burst of blue fire flickering over the portal as the Githyanki raised glowing hands and the pouches for the shards clicked open.
"Did you really think that you could keep such relics of my people?" she cackled as the shards drifted through the air towards her, every one of the adventurers paralysed by some unknown spell. Then the Githyanki female's expression filled with cruel joy as she caught the shards and a look of understanding showed, "Odd. I have all those you carry and yet you still possess one."
A vicious swipe of one bony hand had Isaviel's slight form drifting helplessly up into the air, a scream tearing from her throat as her scar seemed to writhe and tear all the way to her heart. As battle erupted all around her, the paralysis of her friends wearing off, Isaviel became aware of a silver glow emanating from her chest, of blood soaking her tunic.
"Ah," Zeeaire's wicked voice carried easily over the sounds of battle, even as Bishop's swift aim took out a Githyanki running to Isaviel's floating form, shortsword drawn. That had been too close, "It seems you have a piece of the sword…inside you. Good. I shall tear it from your cold body!"
"By the Hells, you won't!" Isaviel cried, yelling through the pain of the shard in her body and the strength of the spells on her being.
It was with great satisfaction that the Moon Elf felt the spells receding with her pain and she landed easily on her feet in time to arc back, almost to the ground, to allow one of Bishop's arrows past, following its path with a back flip and dancing around the consequently dying Gith.
To her surprise, Isaviel saw Qara actually aiming her devastating spells – and at the pillars holding up the portal. Seeing Zeeiare's form flicker into greater solidity as the first stone arc crumbled under a blast of fire, Isaviel prepared herself to stop the Githyanki's first spell. And for recovering the shards. If only she could just live through this…
"I hope the pain you have brought here is revisited upon you a thousand fold," Zeeaire coughed, her body beaten and broken, a little singed.
The Githyanki Seer had finally slumped against the wall by the door, her pale eyes sweeping one last time across the room, at the many fallen warriors of her kind lying dead all around. At last she looked up at Isaviel, who remained standing over her, the shards already roughly taken, while many of the others had gone to free Shandra from her cage.
"But what comes for you is revenge enough," Zeeaire added weakly, "My people will no longer play a part in this."
"And what exactly is coming for me? Oh please, do tell," Isaviel enquired sarcastically, folding her arms and watching remorselessly as the Githyanki's blood continued to pool, the flow just that little bit slower now.
"In defying us you have only aided in harming all of your people – and all on your Plane. And most importantly for one so selfish, yourself."
"So I'm doomed. Enlighten me, Gith. Your life is fast running out, but I can still make it worse to endure."
"Evil wakes, Kalach-cha. A mist of blood and a storm of evil, coming for you," Zeeaire gasped, "And now you must stand alone against him, the Ancient Enemy, the Guardian, millennia old. You have felt few effects of his presence, but he is growing stronger. If he succeeds in his plan then your civilisation will become dust – as his once did – and all life will be consumed by darkness at the whim of this King of Shadows."
"Then I'll kill this 'King of Shadows', just as I killed you," Isaviel hissed, drawing one wicked kukri across Zeeaire's throat and seeing how its new magic burned at her skin.
During all of this Casavir, Elanee and Khelgar had been attempting to break Shandra's cell, and Neeshka had employed herself with looting Githyanki corpses. Grobnar looked quietly horrified by the death surrounding him, so only Bishop and Qara had borne witness to the curious conversation – and Isaviel's method of ending it. The Moon Elf caught Bishop's eye as she was cleaning her blade and he raised an eyebrow, 'tutting' at her and shaking his head teasingly. The others would not be so forgiving of such an act, she knew.
"Here, there's a key!" Isaviel called, standing as she retrieved it from a pool of Zeeaire's blood.
"Thank the Gods, get me out of this cage and let's be gone from this place!" Shandra cried as the others moved aside to let the Moon Elf try the key in the large, ornate padlock.
"There. It's done," Isaviel smiled in relief when the key clicked in the lock, pulling the hook aside and letting the cage door swing open freely.
"Hey! That's a good padlock, I'm keeping that," Neeshka insisted when Isaviel was about to drop it.
"Fine, I didn't realise you had a thing for such unorthodox decoration on your keys, though," the Moon Elf grinned when Neeshka winced at the touch of the sticky blood. But she kept it, stuffing it into her pack nonetheless.
"I'm getting so tired of this," Shandra sighed as she stepped gingerly out of the small space, but she was smiling genuinely when she looked at Isaviel, "You've got to let me save you sometime or else I'll never be able to pay you back!"
"Oh," Bishop laughed coldly, "There'll be plenty time for you to pay all of us on the way back to Neverwinter.
"I'm not paying any of you!" Shandra exclaimed, suddenly riled, pulling away when Elanee came over to attend to the bruises on her arms, presumably from where she had been tied with rope for the journey, "You all put me in danger."
"Actually, we've only ever tried to save you," Isaviel corrected angrily, "In case you've not been listening, it's your name and your blood they want. We'd rather have a nice chat with you by the fire to find out what you know – they'll just bottle or write down what they need and leave the rest for the worms. We've freed you from the Gith twice when they put you in danger. Better get used to it, looks like it follows you around."
"My lady, I'm sure…" Casavir began, but Bishop cut him off.
"If you're not going to pay me with money – and unlike our clearly virtuous leader there, I don't accept simple thanks as any form of currency – then you'll be paying me another way," the ranger told Shandra languidly, "My bedroll's a little cold at night. I'm thinking you could fix that…"
"I'd rather go and hand myself into the Githyanki," Shandra spat as Isaviel turned to glare at Bishop in a sick fury. He was already smirking her way, not even registering the human woman's response.
"Maybe ye should shut yer mouth, ranger," Khelgar warned, hefting his axe threateningly, "Ye words're starting t' anger me."
"Do not speak of Shandra in such a way, Luskan," Casavir agreed.
"Oh…really," Bishop growled, Karnwyr snarling at his side, "I'd like to find out what your anger amounts to one day, Dwarf. I doubt it would be over troublesome to…cut it off. And anyway," he looked to all of them now, "How'd you like if I just left you here in Luskan territory with your righteousness to keep you company?"
"Bishop," Isaviel snarled at last, trying to ignore her returning pain as she felt a horrid tear run down her scar where Elanee's more rudimentary healing spells had served since the battle, "If you don't watch your tongue I'm cutting it off."
"Objective reached," Neeshka noted softly from nearby.
Bishop just laughed then, but Isaviel did not hear his answer as consciousness left her and she crumpled suddenly to the ground.
Isaviel groaned as the cold, hard ground pressed against her back, but felt the relief from much of her earlier pain far more acutely. The discomfort associated with the shard by her heart had fled completely, and the area of her scar ached only a little, as if it were a healing surface wound. Shifting to sit up and feeling her two travelling cloaks fall from her – the fur one closest to her skin reserved for icy mountain travel – she saw her pack and belt lain neatly by her side. Listening only vaguely to the cheerful conversation of her companions, who were gathered nearby around a large camp fire, she noticed that someone had changed her tunic as well as cleaned and bandaged her wound. The work must have been Elanee's, though Isaviel wondered how she had not woken, but the tunic…it was far too large for her, made of linen with lacing from the chest to neckline. A man's shirt, then, one that smelled clean, and felt soft. The slight embroidery at the hem, a pattern of down-played opulence, spoke volumes to the Moon Elf, and surprised her not at all. It had to be Casavir's.
Rubbing at her eyes and, despite her better judgement, surreptitiously breathing in the scent of the shirt she wore, Isaviel moved to sit back against the stone she had been facing. Looking up, she saw that it was in fact a great cliff-face, while ahead lay a dark forest of many tall trees, obscuring the land beyond and much of the clear, starry sky. Closest to her, maybe only two or three feet away, sat Elanee and Shandra, Grobnar between them. He was looking from one to the other and excitedly talking at some speed but in a hushed voice, as he had no doubt been warned not to waken Isaviel. Casavir sat a little further around the fire, leaning against a rock and cleaning his armour, now dressed in just his shirt and trousers, his boots gleaming by the fire. The lacing on his shirt was mostly undone, displaying the beginning lines of an impressively muscled torso, his large arms flexing distractingly as he worked. He seemed intent upon his work, his brilliantly blue eyes fixed upon his metal armour, his hammer shining by his side. Was it just her, or did it look a little duller?
Across the fire from the paladin, clearly as far away from him as she could get when still wishing to keep warm with the others, sat Neeshka, trying to subtly quantify the value of all the strange trinkets she had managed to acquire on the journey. Qara was more blatant about her derision of certain members of the group, preferring to sit on a more distant rock, contemplating the summoned fires in her palms.
"Ah, lass, yer awake!" Khelgar acknowledged brightly, and she turned to see him approaching from a more distant point, "The paladin had to carry ye out o' those damned caves. Glad yer feeling better though – ye are, are ye not? Good," he crouched beside her now, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight as his expression grew graver, "I heard about that shard ye carry by yer heart. And I'm sorry we couldn't get ye to an inn to rest awhile, those ungrateful bastards at Ember flat out turned us away. Told us all that we were nothin' but trouble, and people like us don't deserve help. Not even you, bleedin' everywhere in Casavir's arms. That ranger, Bishop, cursed them right and proper for that, maybe the only thing I think he's ever done right in his life. But I've been trying not to explain them curses to Elanee all the way down the cliff path. That druid has far too much curiosity about foul language, if ye ask me."
"That wretched town. Did they blame Shandra, as well?" Isaviel asked, and sighed when the Dwarf nodded, "How long have I been unconscious?"
"A few hours," Khelgar admitted, patting her shoulder, "Ye woke when Elanee was dealing with yer wound, apparently, but the herbs she gave ye to ease the pain have probably dulled them memories, she said."
"He speaks truly," Elanee admitted, smiling over at Isaviel as Shandra was just standing, the latter looking over at the Moon Elf uncomfortably before heading for her bedroll, "I must retire to gather my strength, though I hope no more spells will be needed. Goodnight, Isaviel – I am glad you are feeling better."
"I…thank you," Isaviel managed to smile, and the druid inclined her head as she stood and moved away.
"I'm on first watch, lass. I'll see ye in the mornin'," Khelgar added, also heading away around the fire.
"Isaviel! You're awake!" Neeshka beamed, waving some gold items about in her hands, "Look at all the things I've found!"
"I'm sure you'll get lots for them," the Moon Elf smiled genuinely, feeling oddly at peace with all of those around her, and grateful for their company and support in a way she never had before that night.
At last she caught sight of Bishop, pacing back and forth in the shadows off to the left, back in the direction of the road she believed they must have come from. Karnwyr was asleep, curling near the Moon Elf's bed roll, and she almost tripped on him as she pulled herself stiffly to her feet, telling those who remained by the fire something vague about needing to stretch her legs before heading towards the ranger.
"I hear you championed me at Ember?" Isaviel asked him only half-sarcastically as she drew near, shivering in the cold wind and wishing she had brought her fur cloak.
Bishop stopped his pacing to turn around, and took two quick steps towards her, his eyes intense – if still rather openly mistrustful – before stopping abruptly only one more step away, seeing the shirt she wore and giving a derisive snort.
"Hardly," he denied, "The paladin carried you all that way, limp like a rag doll. I just supplied the…profanities. We were all thinking the same thing. We all wanted a warm bed at the inn. It wasn't…"
He stopped when she drew closer, running her hands over the fur lined edges of his cloak, and he brought up a hand to curve around the back of her neck as she looked up at him. She could not help but smile at the effect she clearly had on him – and at his willingness to show it, or his inability to deny it.
"A heart of silver," Bishop laughed softly, and patted his own chest, "It must be so cold in there," and his voice lowered, watching her darkly, "And the devil certainly had a lot to say to you. It seems like you know less of yourself than you think. Makes you dangerous to have around...even if you are the one who keeps getting hurt."
"Better me than you, right?" Isaviel mocked him, but he didn't seem to be listening, watching her lips as she spoke.
"I want to kiss you," he growled after a moment, his frown deepening, "But you wear the paladin's shirt."
"I would sooner wear my own, but I fear it is a little worse for wear," Isaviel shrugged, and felt a little rush of pleased surprise when the ranger, that brutal and rude gods-be-damned wretched ranger, undid the clasp of his cloak and pulled it off, fastening it about her shoulders.
"Better," he murmured, drawing her closer as he shifted the warm item around her, pulling up the hood and pressing his forehead to hers as he held its edges, "If you wear the paladin's shirt, you have to wear this tonight. He does not get to claim you. That's my job."
He stopped her inevitable objection to anyone claiming her by stealing her breath with a passionate kiss, making up for their all too brief encounter before meeting Zeeaire. He was not gentle, and his hands against her skin held her just a little too hard for one who was bruised from her undignified journey there. But he was warm and strong – and though she knew she should not, she felt safer for his hold on her. And that paradoxical memory, that he was dangerous, was all the more exhilarating… Suddenly, he broke off the kiss as her arms began to snake around his neck, leaving her gasping, pouting up at him.
"The Devil," he noted almost angrily, "What did he say to you…that we could not hear? And he kissed you," he took a hold of her wrist and looked at the offending hand, where a blistered mark remained.
"He was a Devil, Bishop. He promised me power and gold, trying to make me think I could trust him," Isaviel told him defensively, pulling her hand back and stepping away quickly, eyeing him incredulously, "Are you jealous?"
"You are lying to me. He wanted to seduce you. He wanted you. Just like the paladin does. Just like that wretched wizard Sand and…"
"Enough! You want to own me?" Isaviel demanded, unfastening his cloak and throwing it back at him furiously, "Well you can't! Is that why you suggested Shandra take to your bed? To make me jealous out of revenge? And what in all the Hells are you implying? You have never even met Sand…"
"And staying with him to drink wine does not suggest something…other than friendly intentions?" Bishop sneered, "Your naivety sickens me. I am not jealous. I am…"
"Then what are you? Sickened by how other men might see me? Offended that I spend time with people who do not answer to 'Bishop'?" Isaviel mocked, "Well, just so you know, that's jealousy. Better get used to it…"
She gasped when he pulled her back to him angrily, and for a moment she thought he had crueller intentions for her than he really did. Again he kissed her, though she fought him at first. A moment passed and she gave in, sighing against him and pulling him closer, feeling her back collide with the bark of a tree behind her. With her acceptance he grew gentler, his lips brushing against hers.
"Yes, I'm jealous," he admitted, pushing aside her hair to bend closer and leave a soft kiss on her neck, "Because I don't like having to compete with such paltry company."
"Ha! Really, you hold yourself in high esteem, ranger," Isaviel smirked as he ignored her, kissing his way back up to her lips, lingering there a moment before stepping back wordlessly, retrieving his cloak and putting it back on.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm saving your reputation, oh Lady Virtue," he grinned when she frowned at him, "For your band of fools is tiresome at best, and their glares and mutterings behind my back will just make me want to kill them more. Better run along back to camp before they notice someone's missing."
Without giving her a moment more to respond, he disappeared into the dark forest, leaving her to think on all those promises he had just implied with those words. But now he was gone, and she was walking back to the camp, glad that no one gave her a second glance as she settled on her bed roll again.
All she could think of was Mephasm. What had he meant about her father? Why did he feel so…familiar? And how did he know so much – even down to the certainty that they would meet again? He had not just offered her power and gold, it was true. He had tried to seduce her. Just as Bishop seemed to be doing, as well. And, she had to remind herself, she was not sure whose intentions were more devilish.