Alystin was the first to summit the hill, almost colliding with the celestial. She dropped to the ground to avoid a swipe of its shield that threatened to knock her back down. Then Sabal made it up onto the plateau at the top with Yvonnel and Lirayne lagging behind. The Revered Daughter was a little worse for wear if only because of the effort she expended to shield Siniira's daughter from the worst of it. "Goddess," Lirayne hissed, narrowly avoiding a blow from one of the angel's wings. They had just run from the frying pan into the fire, except the frying pan was also about to crush them. She slashed with her blade and knocked the spear's tip away from Yvonnel's throat. It missed by a narrow margin. "Sabal, break its weapon!"
Sabal knew she wouldn't be able to harm the head or break the haft with her sword. But maybe with her mind. She focused on the wood, felt the grain in her head. It was a brief surreal and serene moment in the midst of all the chaos, just the simplicity of what had once been a tree. She wrapped her will around the very heart of the spear-haft and wrenched as hard as she could.
The wood exploded into splinters and the fire of the tip was snuffed out as it lost angelic connection, clattering down the hill. Lirayne slammed into the creature with her shoulder, making it stagger back.
"You four are insane!" Siniira shouted, running up the hill behind them. Llolfaen seemed to be following of her own volition as the soldiers kept their backs to the wall and tried to fight off the enemy. The enemy, mostly aasimar soldiers, were separated from their commander and struggling to deal with a loose demon in their midst along with fighting the drow.
The angel drew its sword, fire bursting to life along the length of glittering metal. All of them cursed in response, either aloud or in their mind. "You have shown yourself," the creature said, advancing towards Siniira and Llolfaen. Lirayne charged it and the creature batted her aside like a toy with its shield. She went flying and tumbling down the hill, jarring her hip against the stone when she crashed into it. Her head cracked back against the ground and darkness almost swallowed her up. She clung to consciousness with stubborn will alone. And from where she lay, she could see her daughter and her mother from the corner of her swimming vision. "I am Elohis, champion of Torm. You will fall here!"
Almost at the same moment, a blast of dark magic hit Alystin from behind. It tore open wounds across her body as negative energy for a moment coursed through her veins. The mage managed an inarticulate cry as she dropped and Sabal whipped around only to see the last person in the world she'd expected. "Drisinil?" Sabal said, utterly lost. She stepped between the priestess and the mage, sword at the ready.
"Move, Sabal," Drisinil said, readying her spell. Something ferocious gleamed in her eyes, reflecting back the glow of the holy fire as it twisted into something much more sinister. "I have no wish to kill you as well."
"What are you doing? You serve Lloth!" Sabal shouted. She knew that Drisinil wasn't here with them, and she saw no forces of House Baenre. That meant something was going very wrong. They'd found their rot in the First House. Had her torment at House Kenafin's hands truly been so terrible that she was willing to throw away everything, from Lloth's favor to her own life, just to get her hands on Alystin? The enormity of the error almost stunned Sabal. The only reason the priestess probably wasn't a drider was the fact that she was clearly using the celestials for her own ends rather than even paying lip service to their gods.
"And She has promised me vengeance," Drisinil said. She smiled at the inquisitor. There was something almost disconnected about the expression, like her mind was well over the horizon of insanity and accelerating. "Is blood really thinner than water, Sabal?"
"We share nothing," the wilder said, lunging forward. Drisinil's mace almost slapped the blade right out of her hands. The ring of steel sounded out through the air and Sabal fumbled for a second to catch her sword in a solid grip. Then she brought it in a crooked strike down at the priestess's hands. The cleric nimbly pulled back, leaving only empty air for Sabal to hit. But this time, Sabal had anticipated the absence and twisted her body, driving the point through a vambrace to slice open Drisinil's left arm, rendering the hand casting spells useless. It was not the lethal thrust that Sabal had been hoping for, but it was at least something.
Now was no time to play games and try to spare the priestess. She needed to kill Drisinil as quickly as possible or the others would be alone in their battle. She knew one of them was going to have to die here.
"You're so very wrong, sister," Drisinil said, whipping the mace at Sabal's ribs. It hit her armor and there was an unpleasant crunch. Sabal choked a little bit in pain, a crushing agony burning through her whenever she went to breathe. That was probably not a good sign, the wilder decided hazily. The pain on top of her other wounds was ruining her ability to concentrate and stripping her of her most valuable power. "Oh, that's right, you destroyed the papers. But I found Baenre's copy of the spy's work. You threw away your House, but it didn't forget you. There's only one way to leave House Baenre, Sabal, and that's to die."
"I am Xullae's daughter!" Sabal snarled. When Drisinil caught her sword with the mace again, the wilder kicked out and caught the priestess in the side of the leg where a nerve ran along the side, dropping the cleric to the ground.
Alystin got back onto her feet unsteadily. As soon as she was up, there was a bright flash and a sudden smell of ozone as a lightning bolt from the mage's fingertips struck Drisinil. Mercifully, Sabal was spared the shock since their weapons had broken contact. Sabal staggered back, completely blind, but her foe was still alive. Drisinil didn't hesitate despite the pain spreading through her being, swinging viciously at the inquisitor. It caught Sabal in the knee with a horrible sound, destroying the joint there. Blind, amber eyes snapped shut in agony as she dropped. That was the kind of wound that rendered her useless in the fight, unable to stand and wield her sword. And that wasn't even factoring in the pain of a leg that had suddenly bent sideways as the kneecap smashed like a bone grenade. That would require a great deal of healing if it was ever to be whole again.
"Sabal!" Aly cried out, closing the gap between them. But before she could heal her lover or do anything helpful, Drisinil was there. Her vision had been left in tact since she was the one at the epicenter of the strike.
"I've waited so long for this, Kenafin," Drisinil said with a grin, lashing out with another burst of divine energy. "Just you and I."
"Do you want to talk or just die quickly?" Alystin said, narrowing her eyes. That seed of fire sprang to life in her hand again.
"First, I want you to understand pain," the priestess said. She struck with her mace, not at Alystin, but at Sabal's prone form. There was a sickening crack from the inquisitor's already injured side and a cry of pain. It was a foolish pettiness, however.
Aly didn't hesitate even as she felt her stomach and heart both twist in anguish. She hurled the fireball, knocking Drisinil off her feet and searing the priestess with heat. Drisinil's adamantine armor bubbled and snapped, cooling from its yellow color to a dull cherry red. Apparently she'd put a little more into that spell than she'd realized she even could. "Elg'caress!" Aly snarled, stalking forward. She crouched down next to Sabal, using a healing spell just to ease the inquisitor's pain and begin mending the most serious of wounds. Sabal struggled, trying to get to her feet even though one leg wasn't responding. Alystin kept her voice soothing even though there was blood everywhere and she didn't know the extent of the wilder's injuries. "Stay down, d'anthe. You're out of this fight."
Drisinil climbed back to her feet at the bottom of the hill, her face charred, just in time to be hit by another powerful fireball spell. She cursed, no longer feeling the burning to the right half of her face as flesh was eaten away and bone blackened. That eye was completely destroyed, cooked white from corner to corner like a boiled egg. "Kenafin!" she howled, rolling around on the ground.
Alystin didn't answer then, her thoughts completely focused on Drisinil. She had forgotten the rest of the battle. Now was just the time to finish this. She strode forward and felt the heat start to glow in her hand. "Burn," she hissed, letting loose with the inferno she had at her command. The shrieking and screaming filled her ears just as the smell of roasting flesh did her nose. Metal turned molten and clung to the body wearing it that writhed in the flames. Painfully slowly, the scrabbling and rolling grew weaker and weaker until finally it ceased all movement. Alystin didn't stop until there was nothing left but ash and bones.
That finished, Aly sagged in exhaustion. She was almost spent and they still had a battle left to fight. She took a breath, then rushed over to Sabal. The inquisitor needed divine healing now if she was to continue. Where the hell had Yvonnel gone?
Ilamin saw his chance, lunging for the wizard's back. Sabal managed to catch the flash of aggression and swiped her hand out, catching one foot and tripping him. The aasimar landed on top of her, sending shockwaves of pain through the wounded wilder. "Aly, go!" Sabal ground out even as she jerked her dagger free and went to plunge it into the aasimar's throat. But apparently she'd run into someone just as adept on the ground as she was, and one who wasn't injured at that. He slammed his knee into her wounded one, earning a scream of pain from the normally so tough wilder. Some wounds were just too agonizing to keep in.
Aly hesitated. She wasn't certain she could get him without getting Sabal as well. Fortunately, that decision was made for her when she felt something tug at her clothes and realized it was an arrow. She whipped around to see more forces approaching. They were backed against the chasm—there was nowhere to run now, and so she would have to make a stand until she could get Sabal up and moving. The wizard let loose with another bolt of lightning, this one leaping from body to body as it ran wild through the approaching ranks. There wasn't even a heartbeat of space before she let loose with a cone of fire from her hands. "Sabal, hurry!"
Ilamin had Sabal by her collar and was slamming her back into the ground, then jerking her up to slam her down again. She'd dropped the blade the first time her head cracked against the unforgiving stone. He just needed to kill her quickly, as nauseating as this battle was, and then he could take out that diabolist. Then something invisible slapped him across the face, almost with enough force to crack bone. It was nowhere near as powerful as Sabal was on top form, but it was enough to distract him so she could snatch up her knife and slash the back of one of his arms. It severed tendons and his hand reflexively opened, releasing her collar. He still had one hand on her, which he used to grab her wrist. He tried to slam it into the ground so she would drop it and he could take it. However, she had other plans.
Sabal lunged up, smashing her head into his face. It cut her forehead, but it smashed his nose flat and split his lip, blood spattering across her face. It was certainly satisfying. She clenched her fist around the knife's hilt, slipping one leg outside of his. She bucked up, throwing the aasimar off of herself. She rolled with him, lying above him and bringing the knife down. He barely blocked, his arm catching hers. The scrape of metal against metal was unpleasant for both of them as their armor collided. The agent of good grabbed her hand and twisted, almost snapping her wrist. She had to drop the knife, even as she punched him in the head with her other gauntleted hand. He snatched it up and tried to slash it across her throat, but she threw up her forearm to block it despite the fact that her wounded lung was screaming in protest.
If he could just get to her ribs, he would be able to drive the blade through the broken part of her armor and finish her off. The problem was actually getting there as she battered at his face and he tried to stab her. The drowess's armor with its interlocking pieces was giving him an inordinate amount of trouble. There were no good places to slide a blade through, so he had to just stab and stab in the hopes that his blade would eventually punch through the mix of leather and adamantine. "Just die, damn you!" he hissed out.
Sabal didn't answer, getting one hand around his throat and the other around his hand. She couldn't overpower him, as she was much more slightly built, but she could potentially crush his miserable throat. That was an area that remained vulnerable no matter how well-muscled or large one was. And Ilamin seemed to come to the same realization, because he started to buck and flail, further damaging her already broken leg. Sabal hissed in agony, but she tightened her grip all the same. It wasn't a good crush, but it was a slow strangle. She had to use her psionics to keep her hand clenched on his windpipe, slowly pinching it off as he flailed and tried to throw her off like she'd done to him.
It was not a quick or a clean death, but eventually Ilamin's struggles came to a halt. Sabal swore and grabbed the knife, driving it through his mangled trachea and separating vertebrae. He would not be coming back to consciousness now. This was a fight that he had lost and quite permanently at that. "Aly," she wheezed out, rolling off him and onto her good side.
The mage had cleared them enough of a window that she could reach down and help Sabal struggle upright. She had to serve as an awkward crutch to replace Sabal's useless leg. She was half carrying, half dragging the inquisitor as her lover tried to support some of her weight on her good foot to take it off of Alystin. It was a nice thought, but in practice it seemed somewhat ineffective. Aly dropped her staff and focused her whole attention on scaling the hill in agonizing slowness with Sabal even as the enemy host closed in on their heels.
Up at the top of the slope, Elohis raised his sword and it flashed with a brilliant light. Siniira was blinded, but Yvonnel had seen the movement and turned her face away. She looked back just in time to see the sword start to move in a strike against the momentarily sightless Matron of House Duskryn. Without thinking, Yvonnel threw herself forward and right into the way. The flaming blade sheared right through her own and bit deeply into her shoulder, snapping a collarbone and slicing through the top few ribs as well as muscle and arteries. Her sword dropped from nerveless fingers, arm and shoulder almost completely severed. The next strike hit her hip, breaking bone and sinking deeply into the head of her femur. Then the sword was wrenched free in another cracking of bone, leaving her to fall backwards into Siniira, knocking them both over.
"Cowardly, to hide behind your puppets," Elohis sneered, approaching Llolfaen. "You're fragile now in your flesh form. Weak."
"I will enjoy peeling your wings off, angel," the entity using Llolfaen's body hissed, smiling with a sort of smug satisfaction even at the thought. A dark aura had coalesced around the girl at least equal in power to the angel's. "This is just a piece, just a little piece of my power. Enough to gain a foothold. You will die here in the darkness. Everything you have brought with you will die. This is my world now."
The celestial being swiped with its sword, but the blow was caught in a metallic clash as she parried neatly and pressed the attack. The thrust slid down his blade and almost punched a hole in his breastplate. He barely caught it in time. The drowess was much smaller than he was and more fragile, but she was worked like a puppet by something far more powerful. His only solace was that, as she had said, it was a very small portion of the possible power. They were locked now in the deadliest of dances, spells exchanged along with a flurry of blades. If either one of them made a single misstep, death would be inevitable. The question remained who could last the longest.
"You idiot," Siniira whispered on the ground, holding onto Yvonnel. She let healing energy flow from her hands into the Revered Daughter's body to begin the work of mending what was a mortal, crippling wound. It wasn't enough—she hadn't prepared for extended healing, as she'd relied on the priestess now dying in her arms to handle it. Yvonnel's blood was everywhere, on her face and chest and hands. There was no answer, the priestess's head lolling about limply as if she'd given up control of her body completely. The Matron knew that blow should have been hers, and she wasn't wearing armor as heavy as Yvonnel's. It would have killed her outright. She cursed as the blood continued to flow, albeit at a much slower pace. She needed fabric to pack the wound and there was none of that to be had. It was fortunate that the blade had actually cauterized part of the cleaved flesh and bone. It left her with only one major artery she had to reach in and pinch off. Yvonnel's skin was starting to pale, turning from ebony to lighter shades of charcoal, slowly moving towards grey.
Consciousness slowly fading, the Revered Daughter saw flickering visions in front of her eyes. She could see herself from above, lying as a shield on Siniira. All she could taste was fire and smoke. For a moment, a vision of Siniira taking that blow and succumbing to death flashed in front of her, but then she was back to reality. The fate she had chosen, the swiftly fading pain that she had accepted instead of another. She could feel the Demonweb Pits beckoning her to their depths. Already she could feel the legs of invisible spiders moving over her body, crawling into her mouth and down her throat. She was powerless to move, limbs feeling as though they were thousands of miles away and shrouded in spiderwebs.
Below, the glazebru summoned by Aly had finally been brought down, flickering out of existence in the Material Plane as it returned to the Abyss. The battle was still even, balanced precariously on a razor's edge. It could go either way, likely depending on whose commander lived and whose died. Lirayne staggered to her feet and found her blade. She lifted it awkwardly, joints swollen and bruised, and started the climb back up the hill despite the chaos behind her. Arrows clattered against the rocks behind her and one even pierced her armor. It was fortunately stopped by her shoulder blade, which still hurt a great deal. She cursed and reached back, yanking it out whether it was wise or not.
Elohis found himself retreating at the top of the hill, hounded by the darting blade of the swifter drowess. Without a spear to keep her at bay, he had to use his shield to batter her back. And even then, hitting her was a challenge. "That's not fear I smell, is it?" the possessed Llolfaen taunted, batting his blade out of the way and slicing open the bronzed arm supporting the large, oval shield. The arm sagged and she lunged, driving her blade into his shoulder. The young priestess twisted it savagely and jerked it free. Blood surrounded by a soft golden glow seeped out through the destroyed section of that beautiful armor and the angel let out a cry of pain.
The angel found his second wind and charged forward, using his bodyweight rather than his weak arm to slam the fragile girl off her feet. Torm's righteous power flooded through him and he used it to smite the drowess with his shield. She stumbled back, bleeding from a broken nose and uttering curses in a speech that had existed before all the tongues of the Material Plane and even those spoken by the denizens of the planes. It seemed to corrupt the very air around them. "I do not fear you or anything that has crawled forth from the reeking pits of the Abyss. You have lost, Araushnee."
"That is not my name!" she shrieked, throwing herself at him again. Her blade skated across his armor and utterly destroyed an eye. Clear jelly leaked out with the glowing blood, splashing down onto the front of his armor. The gaping, ragged socket was horrifying to look upon, but Llolfaen's body didn't even hesitate. "How dare you!? A miserable little worm of an angel!"
Her anger was making her sloppy. Elohis almost smiled at the advantage, calling again on the god he served for a divine assistance. His sword slashed at his enemy's blade, trusting that the steel would give just as the priestess's had. A black, swirling power surged through the sword, meeting his holy light with a flash and a loud crack. Apparently he would not be so fortunate. The power of his foe was only growing as she became more accustomed to her vessel. He slammed and battered at her with his shield, relying on his raw power to beat her back. He was carefully maneuvering her back to a little, broken ridge of stone that would trip her and send her to the ground. It was a good plan.
"I have servants too," Llolfaen's body snarled out. Lower down the hill, Sabal screamed and Alystin almost dropped her as she convulsed.
Sabal felt the bonds around her mind grow impossibly tight and then shatter, nearly taking her with them. The sudden rush of psionic power that hit her was unbelievable. Was this her full potential off of her leash? She whipped it behind them, sending the first rank of their enemy scattering as if they'd been hit with a force spell. It felt so, so good to be free. She didn't even question why she'd been released—she just used it with abandon to protect the pair of them so they could get closer to the summit of the hill. Arrows exploded in thin air when they collided with the barrier she'd thrown up. The pain was growing, however, and she knew that even with her freedom she wouldn't be able to keep this up for very long.
Just ahead of them, Elohis and Llolfaen were still locked in mortal combat. Neither of them seemed to be outright winning, at least until he gave her a shove backwards and the jagged edge of rock poking up caught her heel. She tripped and stumbled back, then fell. She hadn't quite managed to catch herself. Elohis had won their little game.
He raised his sword to strike the killing blow on the momentarily stunned Llolfaen, just in time to feel steel bite through his armor from behind at the knees. The blow dropped him to the ground. Then three feet of blade sank into his torso at an angle as Lirayne shoved her sword down until just the hilt stood out. "No one hurts my daughter," she hissed ferociously. A wing lashed out and hit her as the celestial fell into his death throes. There was an explosion of light and holy flame outwards that burned everything in its radius, from Llolfaen to Yvonnel. Siniira was mostly shielded by the Revered Daughter's body. Lirayne had lost her sword and collapsed to the ground under the force of the blast. She heard Llolfaen cry out in pain, but could barely make out where it had come from. Unsteadily, the Matron's daughter climbed to back to her feet and ignored the sudden urge to vomit as the ache in her head redoubled.
"Faen?" she called out uncertainly.
Whatever compulsion had overtaken her daughter was dispelled by that blast of holy energy. Llolfaen felt hollow and as used as threadbare cloth. "Here," she croaked out as she heaved herself up. Her body didn't move right any more, almost like it wasn't really hers. The closest feeling she could come to was wearing clothes that belonged to someone else and fit in all the wrong places.
"Lirayne, take control of our forces!" Siniira shouted. "Take your daughter too."
Alystin crested the hill with a wounded Sabal supported by her shoulder. She laid the inquisitor down beside Yvonnel, who was beginning to look deathly pale. Siniira was struggling to keep the Revered Daughter alive. "Help the others. Can Sabal still use her psionics?"
"D'anthe?" Aly asked softly.
"I don't know," she hissed out through gritted teeth, thoroughly exhausted. Now that the pain had died down, she could think again. She just couldn't move or breathe or it would flare up again. Granted, it was more of a dull ache now as her faculties responsible for feeling pain started to shut down from overload. She reached out with her mind and found an aasimar's, shredding it with her power. He screamed like a banshee and dropped to the ground. "Still works."
The wizard conjured up another glazebru, though she was almost spent to the point of dropping. The demon howled and waded into the midst of their enemy. With Lirayne and Llolfaen reinforcing the troops, tired as they were, the tide of battle began to change. The loss of their commander had been a powerful blow to the forces of light and slowly but surely they were driven back to the portals to the Upper Realms that a few of the other angels had conjured. Finally, it became a full retreat.
"Let them go!" Lirayne ordered. "Regroup and tend to the wounded!" Then she turned and ran up the hill to her mother, saving her last healing spells for their two downed companions. Llolfaen tended to the soldiers even though she wasn't much of a healer.
The toll was a grim one. The dead outnumbered the living, even if barely. Sabal was easier to heal, even if she would still be sore and limping. As soon as the pain had faded somewhat, the inquisitor rolled onto her good side to look at Yvonnel. "How is she?" the wilder asked. The cold and calculating wheels had stilled enough to where she felt the absence. Not dead and gone, but very weak and very quiet.
"She's not going to be able to travel," Aly said, every muscle in her body burning with exertion. "Neither are you, Sabal. Siniira and I need to stay with you two. Lirayne, take the others and go back. Someone needs to make certain that Zesstra hasn't taken over your House. Between Sabal, the Matron, and I, we'll be quite safe."
"And if they come back?" Lirayne demanded. It was strange how small and fragile Yvonnel looked lying there still and quiet, face smoothed in unconsciousness. They'd bandaged her wounds and been working at healing them, but it was a slow and agonizing work. The holy flame that had burned her even as it cut through had left a lingering effect which seemed to repel their attempts at serious healing. Aly was having slightly more luck, but she had used the healing spells she'd prepared on Sabal.
"We'll handle it or die," Siniira said. She lifted the iron circlet of House Duskryn off her brow and held it out to her daughter with both hands. It was almost a relic, not one imbued with any powerful enchantment or magics, but one given power by symbolism. The reason it was iron and not silver or mithril or some valuable metal was because it had been forged from the metal of the slave collar Siniira had worn in her life before coming to power. It was a sign of how far she had come by Lloth's grace and her own tenacity. "In case they do return and we cannot keep them at bay. It cannot be captured by the enemy."
Lirayne's eyes widened, but she accepted it in silence. One did not disobey the Matron Mother of House Duskryn when something like this was on the line. "I understand, Matron. It will be yours again on your return."
"Your loyalty does you credit," Siniira said, giving her daughter a small, tense smile. She looked down again at Yvonnel. The Revered Daughter had taken those blows on her behalf and for the life of her, the Matron could not reason out why she had done it. Insanity? She felt responsible for it—Yvonnel had told her not to come. She had ignored the warning and this was the result. Had she stayed at home...no, if she had remained, Llolfaen would have been left in command of the troops all alone. She was too young and inexperienced for that, no matter how intelligent. The soldiers wouldn't respect her the way they respected Lirayne or the Matron herself. Besides, there was no room for regret now. She had a priestess to save.
Lirayne bowed to her mother and turned away, heading down to meet Llolfaen. "Faen, let's go," she said, wrapping the circlet in a spider-silk shirt before tucking it away in her satchel. She didn't let the men see it, lest they form the wrong impression.
"We're just going to leave them?" the girl demanded despite the fact that she felt almost too trashed to travel herself. They would not be moving at speed.
"Matron's orders," the cleric said, catching her daughter by the upper arm and piloting her gently towards their camp from the cycle before. "Everyone, move out! We head to the city at once!"
On the hill in the remains of the enemy camp, Alystin scavenged bedrolls so that everyone could rest a little more comfortably. They had to lift Yvonnel onto hers. "How long until she can travel?" Sabal asked, still watching Yvonnel. The priestess was burned from holy energy across every square inch of skin left exposed by her armor. It was largely superficial, except for that to her hands. It would probably scar, something Yvonnel's vanity would take as a hard blow.
"Two days, maybe three. It depends on how successful we are with healing. It may take even longer," Aly said, pushing Sabal back down. "Go to sleep. You've done everything you can. Leave this work to us." The wilder didn't have it in her to argue, but the pain was keeping sleep far from her despite her exhaustion.
"If she survives the night, she'll be alright," Siniira said, tension written in the furrowed lines of her brow and the set of her jaw. "Well, she'll live. She'll never gain back all of her strength. She's not as tough as your inquisitor, not by a long shot, no matter how much she talked as if it was otherwise. Even the Revered Daughter is not invincible. You need rest too, Alystin. I fought the least out of anyone here. Allow me to take watch."
Alystin wanted to stay up, but her eyelids had developed a mind of their own and sank downwards as she started to succumb to the siren call of sleep. "Let me finish with Sabal," she murmured weakly before turning around to heal her lover. She had to set the ribs with her hands before it was safe to mend them with a spell. Better that they not fuse in the wrong position. Sabal bared her gritted teeth rather than screaming, relaxing a little when the pain faded and warmth coursed through her side. Aly moved to splint her leg, out of energy to heal.
"You're the first wizard I've met who can do that," Siniira commented, trying to keep her mind focused on anything other than Yvonnel's condition even as she healed. She was almost finished for the night too, even if she wouldn't be sleeping well or at all.
"I had to design the spells myself, and it meant repurposing a lot of different elements on a very small scale," Alystin said with a sigh, using lengths of rope left behind to cinch together abandoned scabbards in a splint for Sabal's leg. The wilder was being a surprisingly good patient for her natural inclinations.
"If Druu'giir didn't have you, I'd take you over my son for House Wizard in a heartbeat," Siniira said at that revelation. She hadn't realized an arcanist could even do such a thing, but knowing now, she was almost tempted to request that her house investigate it. She made a mental note to cultivate a better relationship with House Druu'giir. It was a very normal thought in the midst of a very abnormal situation. "Let's hope they don't come back."
"If they do, it won't be here. They want Llolfaen," Alystin said, sinking down into the bedroll with Sabal. She was too tired to change out of her clothes dirty from the stones and stiff in places with blood. The inquisitor was still in her armor because neither Aly nor Siniira had dared try and take it off with her injuries the way they were. Yvonnel was much the same story.
Alystin wrapped her arms around the wilder, who had finally relaxed as the pain ebbed away. It would undoubtedly wake Sabal at some point, but until then she could and would sleep. She hid her face in Sabal's shoulder, hand protectively shielding her still-healing side as she succumbed to unconsciousness. The wilder draped an arm around the mage's waist, holding her close.
Siniira smiled despite herself at the open display of genuine affection, something so rare among the drow. It was like finding vein of gold in cold, dark rock. But after a moment of observation, her eyes were drawn back down to Yvonnel's pale face. Siniira used her last healing spell on that dreadful shoulder wound. The blood had stopped, but it still looked absolutely horrifying and one lung had been taken out. The other struggled to function without its partner. Siniira would have to stop and prepare more spells in prayer to Lloth. Yvonnel seemed stable, though that could be deceptive with this grave of a wound. Still, what else could she do?
The Revered Daughter's eyelids were flickering as though she were dreaming. Her lips moved too, but the words she was trying to say in her sleep were inaudible and completely unintelligible. Siniira leaned down to ask softly, "What do you see?"