Lost in Realm
22
Nhilva had been able to cast Sanctuary once. It was one of many un-drow-like spells she insisted on learning at Tier Breche, the area where all drow schools were located in Menzoberranzan. To her, it was useful in battle. She was able to shelter one person or creature for a small period of time, so they wouldn't get skewered or cursed to death.
Drow believed most of their members were expendable for the goodness of their houses and Lolth. Learning such a spell was a waste of time. She vividly recalled the arguments with the Head Priestess and her Matron Mother over that, and had to seek a special grant from the Dark Mother. She did not miss the days when she had to seek advice from the Spider Queen for everything. Actually, she did not miss her old host's behavior. It was her inside this body now. Coming from a world of modern science, seeing people put their faith in a deity this way - and an absolutely cruel, chaotic and wicked deity, at that â was ridiculous.
The spell could not ward off every attack completely. But as long as she stayed put and did not attack anybody, it would protect her for a certain duration. Sitting inside the small, invisible, spell-erected dome, she waited for her vision to gradually return whilst listening to the fights going on around her: sounds of clashing metal, whooshing spells, people shouting, ravens shrieking, and many objects dropping onto the ground with a thud. A few of them were pretty close to her, too. Daggers almost penetrated the magicked dome. Spells hit the barrier but were absorbed almost completely. Birds attempted to launch down through it, but their claws could not grab hold of her. Occasionally, some of them did get to her, but the protective ward took the brunt of the damage. She was able to handle the rest. By the time her vision returned and she was able to at least seeing some kinds of blurs, the fight was ended.
"Are you alright?" Bastian limped over and checked on her after the spell dissipated.
"Breathing," replied Nhilva.
Greg nearby snorted, but in a good-natured way. He was lying on the ground, catching his breath.
"She can't even do the simplest spell," Viessa also snorted, but not in a good-natured way. "Are you out of your mind? I doubt she can even hold a sword straight, too. Wasn'tâ"
Her word was cut short, for Nhilva had just tossed a dagger at her. It flew past her ear by an inch and cut off a few strands of her loose hair, hitting a dead raven not very hard behind. She did not carry on her unique compliment after that.
They took some time to rest, gulped down health potions and spells before carrying on their journey. Greg asked where Nhilva learned her melee skills and was shocked to learn it was from Jhalnin.
"That bastard?!" he gasped before letting out a long sigh. "All right, he does fight well. I will give him that."
"He was a weapons master." The drow female shrugged.
"Was?"
"Well, he's on the surface now, isn't he?"
"Ah."
"You were trained to fight with a melee?" Viessa, who was usually not one to chat, suddenly chimed in. Nhilva had no doubt she was still holding some kind of childish grudge that she could not cast spells.
"Our house made sure we all do that. There are places magic simply won't work, no?" replied the drow simply. Of course, there were more stories to that in the undercurrent. Such as the Matron Mother believed in setting up a Plan B, seeing as their house wasn't Lolth's most favorite and not every blessing was granted, should the house be under attack and the priestess somehow weren't protected at closer range by the guards. She had to thank her for that, for by having these contingency plans, the old matron had involuntarily prepared her own daughter to survive on the surface without spells.
Viessa didn't say anything else after that.