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Ceald Amothien	By : wanderingaddict Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 7243 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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So
I decided that the little Lyth Myather in the game was sorta puny to
warrant an Empress’s attention. My
Lyth Myather’s a little bigger. Not huge, but still sizable.

-----++------

At
least the fact that the city was built well over a mile from the
cavern that held the walls gave me time to think about what had
happened while I was in the grip of my lucid dream. I bounced as
Valen ran, still slightly annoyed by how he had rather
unceremoniously slung me over his shoulder and simply started running
at the news of the Seer in danger. I'd barely managed to tell
Nathyrra to stay at the gate, in case the retreating drow should
attack again. She'd shot me a deadly glare, but held back anyways
when it became obvious that Valen would far outpace her.

Of
course, I didn't really want to address what had changed inside me
when I first woke in the demon's embrace. True to the logic of the
mind though, the instant that I resolved not to think about it was
the instant my mind conjured
up the smooth slide of Valen's lips under my fingertips, the beauty
of his eyes, and, more disturbingly, how intimate
the moment during which I had known his face and name but not who he
was had been.

It
wasn't necessarily because he was male that I was so opposed
to it, but that he was, well, Valen.
A, a demon, and B, one who had more often than not stated his open
mistrust of my intentions here... ah, hell, what was I saying? I had
just taken a death
curse for
him, just stupidly ran out in front of it, saved his life, and woke
up in his arms. His arms, not on the ground, not in Nathyrra's, but
cradled in the demon's as he worriedly sought to save my own life. So
maybe he did care, at least on some level, and maybe he was an
excellent fighter and pleasing to the eyes
and funny and smart and all around amazing at everything he did and
maybe the warmth of his hand actually did feel quite nice where he
was cupping... my... ass...

Fuck.

I
really, really did not like the way this day was turning out, and I
most certainly
did *not* like the way I was being carried. Well, okay,
so I did like it a lit- NO. There's a proper way to carry an elf
slung over your shoulder, and this was definitely *not* it. I gritted
my teeth and tried to shift subtly,
work my way out from under his hand without too much motion and sling
myself across his back instead.

To
my surprise, the demon merely shrugged my weight across his shoulders
and caught my legs, not even slowing his stride. He
hadn't even noticed where his hand had been,
I thought, disappointed. I flushed red in embarrassment when I
realized exactly why I was disappointed and unthinkingly buried my
face in his thick braid. It was surprisingly coarse, not nearly as
silky as it looked, but I found I rather liked the texture, the way
it- fuck!

Even
redder now, I jerked my face away from his hair, desperate to think
of anything but him. 'He's
just a friend, if that.'
my mind told me. 'There's
not a day that goes by that you've ever gotten any closer, just
relax. Nothing will happen. Calm down, cast some spells.'
I took a deep, calming breath. Spells, right. Spells. In fact, I had
one in mind right now.

Mentally
turning the astral runes about in my head, I freed my left hand and
made
a flicking motion with two fingers, tracing as I murmured.

“Haste,”
I said softly, already reviewing the subsequent spells that I'd
likely be needing in the battle ahead. The sound of shifting energy
rang faintly as I felt Valen tense and his pace increase. The demon
just ran further through the long tunnel that led to the city proper,
no doubt filled with worry for the Seer, carrying me in silence.

That
silence stretched
on. I didn't feel the need to break it.

The
tunnel started to widen, and we passed the two guardhouses that
manned a pair of thickly bound iron doors, the city's last line of
defense against landbound invaders. They had been ordered left open
until it was sure the outer cavern would have to be abandoned. This
wasn't the first time that I silently praised the prudence of the
demonic weaponsmaster. I had put too much faith in the power of the
elements to protect the boundaries
of Lith My'ather. Fortunately, not everyone had made that same
mistake.

It
was always a disturbing
change, the passage through the inner gate, moving from the close
darkness in the tunnel to the huge cavern that housed the city. The
air suddenly opened up, a mimicry of the world above while still
underground. A thousand feet above us arched the cavern wall, losing
itself in a darkness so thick not even my keen darkvision could
penetrate it. Squat stone buildings, the merchant shops of the city,
stood flush against
the lower entrance of the cavern wall, gradually rising higher and
higher to culminate in the brilliantly shining tower of House Maevirr
standing guard on its plateau. The tower was a delicate mass of
arches and pillared balconies, each level glowing with faerie fire
and magelight.

The
standard sounds of the city were gone. The paved streets were empty
and near silent, save for muted sound of distant battle. We passed
abandoned carts and dark windows, the civilians already having
boarded their doors and hidden themselves away in their boltholes. We
couldn’t have been more than a couple blocks in to the city
when Valen suddenly slowed. I was about to ask why when a score of
drow charged out of the street ahead of us. Valen let me slip down to
the ground and, not even slowing, threw himself into the squad, his
flail crushing the red lacquered
shields of the invaders, smashing downwards through bone, men and
women screaming as the demon tore into them. They converged as a
group on him, seeking in the safety of numbers the might to halt the
wheeling angel of death in their midst.

“Cortano
verdigyama’h!”
I cried, concentrating as white runes flared and collapsed between my
fingers. A brightly spinning ball formed in my hands and erupted into
a storm of magical missiles, the crystalline balls speeding into the
circle of drow. They cried out whenever the energy seared their skin,
but most remained largely unaffected save for the burns. I cursed
mentally and readied another spell, this time preparing to take out
the magical protection surrounding the legionnaires. “Et
sei zi!”
I chanted quickly. There was no visible effect, but my mage’s
senses felt the arcane buffers woven about the soldiers bend and
break.

While
I was casting, the weaponsmaster slipped through the guard of a small
male, snatching his sword and smashing his mailed elbow into the
man's face. At that moment the legionnaires seemed to break,
retreating defensively, trying to lead the demon backwards into
something. Valen stood his ground, not chasing, simply dodging the
small poisoned darts that the furthest back shot at him from tiny
crossbows. He wasn't about to be baited into whatever trap the
Valsharess's forces had in mind.

His
intuition had proven
true. As the drow retreated over their fallen comrades, my mind's
eye could see the glow and flare of short-lived runes lining the
street, winking out as their power dissipated.
An elemental trap, designed to bind and break the bones of pursuers.
I doubted it would have come close to maiming Valen, but even he
would have at least sprained something charging after them. I ran up
next to him.

The
drow company reached the end of the street and parted more fluidly
than water about a man in dark, blood red robes. So, this was the
drow wizard who laid the runes. He grinned cruelly at us before
signaling his warriors to step backwards behind him. As he did so, I
closed my eyes and gave a mental tug at the runes that ran the path
of the street, essentially tearing them straight from their moorings.
Each sigil harmlessly broke itself apart after losing the strength of
the earth that served as its foundation. I opened my eyes in time to
catch the stunned expression of the wizard. I smirked at him before
turning slightly to catch Valen's eye.

“How
do you want to do this?” He looked about to answer when an ugly
barbed quarrel
sped through the air between us. He started, then turned to face the
enemy drow as another barrage of darts and quarrels
slipped around us.

Valen
scowled at the expertly fired arrows that seemed to divert course
just enough to miss us. He faced me with an arched brow. “Your
doing?” he asked.

I
shrugged and gave him a coy smile, not deigning to answer. It was
obvious enough.

Valen
smirked magnanimously and gave me a little nod. “Spellcaster.
Your lead.”

I
nodded and turned back to face the enemy. The wizard was fumbling for
some sort of material component in his robe, no doubt a bit of bat
shit or something equally disgusting. He pulled his hand free, and
with a sneer he started to chant, waving whatever it was he cupped in
hand in a circle.

His
words reached my ears. I strained to filter out the morphemes
of magic from his own tongue, quickly identifying the spell and
readying one of my own. The air around me tightened and coiled, my
ears ringing as the pressure built.

The
wizard's chant reached a sudden halt, his spell completed. A bilious
purple smoke erupted from his hand and poured down the street towards
us. Wherever it passed over one of the fallen soldiers, the body
hissed and dissolved, the skin melting off in patches, exposing bones
and organs that softened to goo at the touch of the gas as well. The
cloud billowed up as it gained speed, obscuring everything behind it
in a thick, violet haze.

I
raised my hand to my lips, and exhaled a long, slow breath, letting
it caress my bare skin, roll over my fingers, and travel onwards,
directly towards the caster of the deadly fumes. The breeze gained in
strength as it sped towards the vapors, colliding hard with them and
carrying the gas right back into the wizard who cast it. I doubted
that he had bothered to make himself immune to it. A deadly weapon in
the Underdark, where a breeze, much less wind, is nearly unheard of,
but easily a double-edged sword. No mage would have ever been foolish
enough to try that on the surface.

The
cloud passed the place we had last seen the group of drow. Eight were
still standing, hacking and coughing as the drow's innate magical
resistance
overcame the power of the spell. Only one had recovered enough to
turn and face Valen, just before the demon hit him with enough force
to take off his head. Valen darted off down the street, only glancing
back occasionally to make sure I hadn’t fallen too far behind.

I
followed him down the cross-street as quickly as I could, the sound
of swords and mail clashing all around us now. The demon set a brisk
jog until we neared the edge of the merchant quarter. Halfway to the
next cross-street Valen slowed and stood still, holding out his hand
in an indication to stop. I halted behind the demon and watched him
cock his head as he listened intently.

“Two
groups of soldiers are coming. On either side of this block,”
he said. It was all the warning I got before a host of the
Valsharess’s soldiers tore down the cross street. The quickest
had already drawn and fired their crossbows, while the slower ones
dropped to their knees and took aim. A second wave of bolts arced
harmlessly around us and clattered against the cobblestones. A shrill
horn sounded and the soldiers dropped their crossbows and drew their
swords. I thought I heard a second horncall in the distance and
paused to see if I could catch it again.

At
the sound of running feet from behind, I spun about to face the
second squadron of drow that had doubled back to flank us. We were
surrounded.
I pressed closer to Valen's back, searching for the presence
of mind to cast the next spell as quickly as I could. I knew that the
moment I showed signs of casting the drow would take no chances and
attack. I shut my eyes and called for the first instant-spell I could
think of.

“Cover
your ears,” I warned Valen, gathering my will into a ball of
blunt force, nestling it in my throat. The drow warily drew closer,
testing our limits. I coiled my power further, tighter, focusing on
casting as much of the spell through mental strength alone as I
could. I drew a deep breath, clutching the ball in my mind, seeding
it with magic. Entropic energy seeped into the orb, stinging the back
of my tongue as I rolled more yet more puissiance into it. It was
bursting, seething, seeking desperately to disperse. I managed to
hold it in long enough to draw the soldiers practically into striking
range before the spell nearly ripped itself from my throat. I threw
back my head, opened my mouth... and screamed.

A
huge, wailing cry erupted from my throat, shrill, keening, and
impossibly loud. A bubble of force emanated
along with the banshee cry, knocking the stumbling elves off their
feet, slamming more back into walls, their bodies striking with
sickening thuds before sliding down to the ground. They wouldn’t
get up again. Blood started to seep from between the fingers of the
drow where they clasped their hands over their ears in a desperate
bid to block out the terrible noise. The wail faded with the air in
my lungs, and I doubled over, hacking and spitting the vile residue
of the spell from my mouth. I was peripherally
aware of Valen methodically killing the remaining soldiers, easily
dispatching the incapacitated drow.

A
final dry-heave wracked my body before I shuddered and stood, wiping
the back of my sleeve across my mouth. Valen placed an inquiring hand
on my shoulder as I took a few desperate breaths. After a minute I
shrugged it off and nodded to him that I could continue. Valen eyed
me for a moment before turning to move down the street. He set a slow
pace at first, allowing me to catch my breath before I caught up with
him once more.

We
followed the same route the drow had used to delve so deeply into the
city. Cries often accompanied the sound of clashing metal now, along
with the same shrill horns that the drow used to signal troops. Valen
twisted and darted down a side street, I followed to find him
contemplating the battle that raged before us.

Drow
fought drow in the street as the followers of Ellistraee spilled out
of the surrounding alleyways, more often than not locked in combat
with the red-clad soldiers of the Valsharess. The battle had yet to
cross into the alley that me and the demon stood in, but that didn’t
stop him from shoving me into a defensive position against the wall.
I clenched my jaw as I peered over his shoulder and searched for a
group of red large enough to warrant a spell, but the forces of the
Seer and the invaders were locked too closely together. Both sides
were in constant motion, soldiers meeting in a flurry of blows then
breaking apart just as quickly to avoid a hail of quarrels and darts
that fell indiscriminately. Flashing spells and the flicker of
enchanted weapons striking enchanted armor emphasized the quicksilver
flow of both drow forces.

Valen
growled. “We can’t get to the temple through this,”
he said irritably. He pressed me harder into the wall as the tide of
red-armored troops increased, pushing the surge of white back. The
demon glanced up suddenly. “C'mon,” he said, scooping me
into his arms as he tensed and sprang. I yelped and clutched tighter
against him as he jumped from either wall of the alley, bouncing one
foot off each building until we had cleared the higher rooftop.

I
nearly gaped at seeing the skyline of the city from this vantage
point. As often as I had traveled through the Lith My'ather on my
adventures through the Underdark, I had never before seen it so
spread
out before me.

The
city of Lith My'ather was built roughly in the shape of a triangle,
the temple of Lloth by the docks, the corner of one point, opposite
the point where the towering spire of House Maevirr guarded the
cavern's northern entrance, and the south gates that made the third.
The tenements of the slaves and the poor were built along the black
waters of the imaginatively
titled Dark River. Though little light did indeed pass over the
surface of the water, it was much, much larger than any simple river.
It was dark and deep, its turbulent waters serving as a wall in and
of itself for the fact that almost no one could navigate them, much
less discourage the dark denizens that lived in its depths from
raiding the ship.

It
was represented by a powerful... thing... known only as Cavallas,
which had purportedly sided with the city in its defiance against the
Valsharess. Cavallas had introduced itself as “merely a servant
of the Dark River,” and had insisted that the Valsharess,
friendly, lovable woman that she was, had overstepped her bounds when
dealing with the elemental factions in the Underdark, and they too,
had turned against her. He... it, had spoken with such vehemence that
most of us had assumed that the natural border of the River itself
would be defense enough, although that no longer seemed to be the
case.

It
was to the closest riverbank that we headed. Valen leapt along
rooftops and over archways with a nimble grace I’d never have
suspected the big demon to posses. The streets he leapt over were
filled with mixtures of red and white soldiers, but as we got closer
to the docks the bands of white started to appear less and less. We
quickly left the houses of the merchant class and were soon in the
midst of the slave and warehouse district.

The
slave quarter had been built with maximum speed and minimum care,
meaning that the stylized and ornate roofs of the merchant quarter
were missing here. In fact, most of the buildings were missing any
sort of roof at all, although it did make a practical sort of sense.
After all, with no inclement weather, the only purpose a roof could
serve was as security, and who cared about the comforts of a slave?

We
were close now. The Temple of Lloth, abandoned in the goddess’
absence, was now the home of the Seer, and fortunately the base for
the rebel operations. The Seer would be strongest there. Only a few
blocks from the Temple the buildings suddenly shifted from the slave
tenements to opulent guildhouses with styled roofs and elaborate
towers. Though it looked different from this angle, I recognized the
blue-slate roof and curly minarets as one of the buildings around the
Temple Square. Warhorns blared and the sounds of battle were loudest
here. I could also taste the charge in the air, of magic both arcane
and divine. The demon easily cleared the last alley and charged
across the roof for the spire on the opposite side. Valen hopped up
the last couple steps to the peak of the minaret before kicking in
the door and striding over to the wide, low baloney at the end of the
room. There was a moment of quiet dismay as we took in the scene
below.

From
the docks to the temple, the streets were clogged with the
red-lacquered armor of the Valsharess’s troops. Beyond the
legions of drow, the entire river was alive with the Valsharess’s
transport ships.

It
was obvious that the attack on the gates had been merely a feint. She
was sending the bulk of her army across the river, and worse, it
looked like they were making it across completely unharmed. I dropped
to the ground and braced my arms on the railing, completely at a loss
for words. It wasn’t possible, couldn’t be possible. I’d
felt Cavallas’ power myself, any mage could have sensed the
elemental strength bound in the creature, which was only a fraction
of the power coursing through the river itself. To bind that would
require a city full of wizards- yet... somehow they had managed. The
invaders had bypassed Lith My’ather’s walls, the golems
and the tunnel, hell, even the River itself and without a scratch to
show for it.

Valen
leaned over my shoulder, peering intently at the Temple across the
square. I could see that he was working through battle plans again,
although if there was a quick way to turn this tide I couldn’t
see it. With her troops crossing the river in complete safety... that
was a major blow. Her army outnumbered the rebels nearly two to one,
and on top of that they were better trained, organized, and equipped.
It was stunning that the Valsharess could so easily remove the
linchpin of the city’s defense. I just couldn’t believe
it.

“Do
you think Cavallas betrayed us?” I had to know what happened.
Betrayal shouldn’t be possible, not for an elemental, but
Cavallas was unlike any creature I’d ever seen.

“No,” Valen said, dismissing the question. “The
Seer would have known.”

He
had a point. “Right,” I nodded. “Like she did with
Matron Maevirr.” The elder Maevirr woman had been cowardly and
weak, willing to accept slavery to the Valsharess in order to live.
The Seer had dreamed that she would betray us to the Valsharess on
the day of battle so Nathyrra and I helped her eldest daughter
assassinate her after the older Maevirr refused to listen to reason.
It wasn’t something I lost any sleep over.

If
not betrayal though, then what? I couldn’t figure out how
Cavallas had fallen. It seemed almost immune to physical harm, much
less the fact that I had never seen Cavallas leave the safety of the
River. Nor was it was a pure elemental, so that ruled out any sort of
binding, and since it- I paused. Cavallas wasn’t a pure
elemental. That allowed more than just bindings. It could allow
anything, from extortion to psychic... the illithid.

I
glanced up at Valen as he studied the movement of the legions in the
square. “Valen,” I said to catch his attention. “He’s
being mind controlled.”

Valen
turned with a startled look of disbelief on his face. “What?”

“The
illithid must have found some way to mind control him. Through that
they can calm the Dark River enough to keep their ships safe.”
I could tell that Valen wasn’t entirely convinced, but then I
wasn't sure myself.

“We
killed the illithid that sided with her,” Valen said, obviously
wondering where the other illithid came from if I was right.

“The
Valsharess- the letter we got from her envoy in the illithid colony.
It said she wanted more numbers, which means that there are some that
were with her the entire time. I’m not exactly sure how, but
with the right focus and proper incentive they could have the
strength to overwhelm Cavallas, and since he is bound to the Dark
River, they could manage some localized semblance of control over
it.” I thought for a second more, working out the magical logistics in my head. “It couldn’t last long, and their death would
be certain. The River won’t forgive nor forget, but like I
said... with the right incentive...” I trailed off, shooting
Valen a meaningful glance.

“Incentive
like avenging their colony,” he said, “and they only need
to hold him just long enough to overwhelm the city.” He glanced
away, his eyes flicking from the Temple to the docks. I could already
see him start to tear himself apart over the choice to be made. He
turned back to me again. “You’re certain?”

I
hesitated. I could simply lie, but there was always the chance I
could be wrong, and I didn’t want to lose Valen should anything
happen to the Seer while he was with me in the city. My conscience
won out. “Cavallas isn’t a true elemental, he’s
something like an avatar. That makes him different- he has his own
desires and will. He may have actually betrayed us.” I tried to
say the next part as delicately as I could. “She might have
been wrong about him Valen.”

He
didn’t flinch and glance at the Temple, but then, he didn’t
have to. I knew the Seer was perhaps the single most important person
in the world to Valen, more than a mother, more than a mentor. She
was the one who pulled him out of the madness of the Blood War, and
the reason he he strove so hard to escape the Abyss. If I was right,
and she was wrong about Cavallas’s betrayal, then there was no
telling what else she had misinterpreted or not foreseen. The Seer
could even be in mortal danger- well, greater mortal danger than she
was already.

I
watched Valen struggle to decide. His mouth was curled in frustration
and his eyes were narrow slits as he glared down at the forces in the
square. If Cavallas truly needed help, then that was the soundest
plan since freeing him would halt the tide of ships crossing the
river, but if he truly had betrayed us then returning to the Seer was
the better plan. Both options had equally important reasoning behind
them, and no matter the choice I knew Valen would wonder if he had
done the right thing. I felt my heart go out to him, knowing
full-well myself what it was to lose someone so dear to the heart.
Watching him clench angrily at the balcony rail, an idea of my own
flashed through my head.

“Go,
save the Seer,” I said softly, placing my hand on his wrist.
“I’ll head to the docks and find out what happened to
Cavallas.”

Valen
turned to give me a hard stare. “And just where’ll you
be?” he asked.

Taken
aback by his intensity, I licked my lips and took stock of the
buildings along the city’s waterway. “That one there, the
warehouse near the plaza. I’ll be there.” I pointed at
warehouse far along the docks, one that almost looked like it had
ramparts on the roof. Not hearing any opposition, I started forward
only to feel Valen’s hand close tightly around my elbow.
Surprised, I looked back up at him.

The
demon was glaring daggers, his bright blue eyes dark and stormy.
“Alone? I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he
growled, low and menacing. I was so startled that I tried to step
back, but his grip on my arm tightened almost harshly. That’s
when it clicked. The hard stare, the anger- this would be the first
time I left his sight since I arrived, meaning the perfect
opportunity to defect like the little spy I was. Any sort of sympathy
I’d felt for Valen shriveled up immediately and I coldly
ignored the sharp pang in my heart that he could still think so low
of me.

“You
know what Valen-“ I bit myself off before I simply swore at
him. I managed to change my words, but just barely. “Guard your
future traitor,” my tone saying clearly enough what I thought
of that, “Or save your Seer. I don’t care.” I
jerked my arm free with a glare and spun quickly, pulling a coin from
my sleeve as I stepped onto the railing. The coin was nothing more
than a crude hunk of metal with a child’s drawing of a winged
lizard on one side and a glyph of prosperity on the other, but it
still contained tremendous power. I flicked it into the air.

“Draconica,”
I breathed as I stepped off. I thought I heard Valen call my name,
but the transformation was already underway. It only took seconds for
it to finish. I stepped off the spire a hundred pound elf. I landed a
ten ton Dragon.

The
impact crushed whatever soldiers broke my fall. I rolled over to my
feet, momentarily adjusting to suddenly having four legs and a tail.
Other soldiers were already swarming into the dip my body had smashed
into the tiles of the square. Ignoring the chink of blades against my
scales I reared back, pulling at the liquid heat that bubbled in my
gut. I thrust my head head forward, mouth opened wide, fire pouring
out over the drow surrounding me. The closest fell to the ground as
charred husks, the furthest were living torches. I stomped out of the
square, moving slow enough that only the foolishly brave were crushed
beneath my limbs. A real dragon would be snapping and biting and
clawing, but I wasn’t big enough to simply crush everything
beneath me and I didn’t want to risk the possibility of a
stomach full of armor when I shifted back.

Behind
me, other soldiers were turning away from their assault on the Temple
and I could hear them charging after me. I casually swept my tail
from side to side, not really caring if I hit anything. My only
intention was create enough havoc to let Valen slip into the Temple,
and then get down to the waterfront to find Cavallas.

I
flinched as a hail of quarrels and darts were shot at my face.
Snapping my vulnerable eyes shut I lowered my head and dug my claws
into the street as I launched my great form into motion, galumphing
down the wide street in sinuous bounds. I could feel the crunch of
armored drow beneath my limbs, soldiers squashed like bugs as I
bounded along. It was exhilarating to feel the sheer physical
strength of such a powerful creature. I was bounding into a third
square, the drow seem to have a love for the open “outdoor”
spaces, when I smacked into something t hat wasn’t there. I
stumbled backwards, my wings flapping open and tail lashing wildly as
I struggled to regain control of my limbs. Once righted, I snapped my
attention to the center of the square, where a number of hulking
figures stood around tiny robed ones.

I’d
stumbled into a cache of sorcerers and devils.

They
reacted faster than I did. With remarkable unity the quickest mages
thrust their will out as one. I only had a moment to glimpse the
spiraling whorls of counterspells before there was the tear of
disjunction as my spell was torn apart. With a pop my spell was
shredded and I dropped out of the air, the faint clink of the coin
rolling away sounding an instant before I smacked into the ground.

“Cicanium!”
I called. Time froze with a burst of cerulean glyphs that arced
protectively around me. Safe within my orb, I quickly took stock of
the situation. The conjured creatures were already leaping to their
master’s aid. I could see four elementals and at least seven
visible slaadi. In the air two winged erinyes were poised mid-flight,
fiery swords raised high above their heads. An army of planar
creatures, which would be hard enough without a cadre of wizards and
mages behind them.

Right.
I couldn’t hold back then. Digging deep into the bag at my
waist I groped about for the feel of smooth metal. Upon finding it, I
grasped it firmly and started to pull, and pull, until I had the
entire rod out.

The
head was carved stone around glowing amber, and the base was polished
adamantium. The damn thing was top-heavy and awkward to hold, made
for a person much larger then I. Regardless of its impractical size
and limited charge, the fact that it was a Rod of Amplification was
still enough to make any half-decent mage drool. Activating the
appropriate runes along the shaft, I waited until the golden glow
spread halfway to the head when I hauled back and tossed it into the
air with as much force as I could. The rod flipped almost entirely
out of my time-sphere, freezing with the rest of time once all but
the last sliver of adamantium had left the orb. Focusing on that last
little tip, I brought my fingers to my forehead and concentrated.

“Onocomo,”
I chanted, activating the rod. “Anac-suna
verdig raunkin. Himilla Atune.”
I thrust both arms out, fingers pointed, at the rod. “Multicast:
Storm.” Purple glyphs and dark sparks flared through the air,
sank into the rod and froze part-way through as they froze with the
rest of time as well.

Breathing
deeply, I struggled to recover the strength a multicast took out of
me. Extremely conscious of the ticking cerulean runes starting to
spin faster, I slid to my knees and conjured the thickest, strongest
shield I could make. Humming softly, I pulled the golden orb as
tightly about myself as I could, closing my eyes and covering my
ears.

I
felt my Time Stop spell wear down. I felt it break.

I
felt the Rod erupt.

Wave
after wave of force crashed against my little haven. The shield bore
it mightily, not even weakening in the slightest. Crouching with my
eyes screwed shut and my hands over my ears I waited through the
spell. Only after I heard the clatter of the rod against the
flagstones did I dare to drop the shield, the barrier falling apart
in a swirl of gold sparkles. I stood and brushed the creases from my
tunic as I scanned the square. Bodies littered the area, haphazardly
tossed about by the conflux of spells. Some were baked and steaming,
others were twisted about like ragdolls. There was no sign of the
summoned creatures. Maybe they were released on their master’s
death, maybe they died with them, it didn’t matter. A glimmer
of light caught my eye. Stepping carefully over the sprawled legs of
a fallen sorceress, I found my little dragon coin laying untouched on
the ground. I quickly pocketed it and turned back for my rod.

Ignoring
the mass carnage and destruction that filled the square, I tucked the
amplifier away and sprinted off through a twisting alley. It took a
few turns to get to the warehouse that I had seen standing so proudly
against the skyline of the city, but when I finally found it I
decided that it was more than worth it. The building was tall enough
to command a complete view of the entire docks, and it was built
thick as a fortress. The roof even had battlements. I grinned at this
bit of luck. Gesturing swiftly, I mouthed a silent word and blinked
to the top of the warehouse I surveyed the roof and, not seeing any
obvious entrance that may cause a problem, walked over to the low
half-wall that ran along the length of the roof. I could see the
Temple still, in the distance, and vague thoughts of Valen flitted
through my head before I shook them out and turned back to the task
at hand.

I
blocked out the world and concentrated on myself. Like before, at the
gates, I dipped into the Weave, although this time I didn’t
search with any of the same desperation. My touch was spider soft as
I slid over the threads, flitting around the clumps that looks
nothing like what I was searching for and only briefly examining the
ones that had potential. After razing the mindflayer colony north of
Drearing Deep, I had a pretty good idea of what illithid magic felt
like. Some part of their psychic powers bled over into the arcane
powers they channeled or something, because the magic they touched
almost... quivered, reminiscent of something that lives in the murky
deep, or that slithers underfoot. It didn’t take long for my to
find a knotted mass of it. I carefully marked its location with my
mind and pulled myself free of the Weave.

Scrutinizing
the northern edge of the docks, I spied a light that looked different
from the lanterns of the boats and had a constant, pulsing glow,
unlike the flashes of magic that I saw flickering all throughout the
city. “Hawk
Eyes,”
I cast, the world blurring as my eyesight readjusted. My spell-gifted
gaze focused on the shadowy figures at the edge of the pier. In the
glow of the piss-yellow sigils, I could make out three cloaked
figures orbiting a limp fourth. The illithid, with Cavallas. Their
arms were spread wide and their heads bowed back as they channeled
their psionic powers into the avatar. The light from the runes of the
circle pulsed slowly with every wave of the mindflayers’ arms.

I
hoped there were only the three of them. Then this’d just be
easy. I slid Assanti off my back and ran my fingers over the worn
bone shaft. Testing the string quickly, I kept one eye on the distant
figures as I carefully placed an arrow on the string. “Servansos
mia elo’Muerta.”
My voice deepened and cracked as I spoke the rune-words. The arrow
darkened and an oozing black void poured from the tip. I drew the
bowstring back, sighted along the arrow’s point released. The
arrow left a trail of black sparks over the city as it shot straight
to the illithid wizards on the pier. They continued to orbit
Cavallas, until one passed straight into the arrow’s path. It
froze, its arms still outspread, then my dormant spell erupted. Red
and black energy swirled around the illithid wizard as the
necromantic energies tore it free from the focus-circle. It fell to
the ground, where it was ignored by the other two wizards.

I
pulled another arrow from my quiver and took aim. I inhaled deeply,
preparing myself for the next spell. “Servansos
Detenotĕ,”
I said as I released. One illithid wizard, sensing some some sort of
danger, winked out of being the instant before the arrow passed
though him. The arrow slammed into the focus-circle instead, both
spells flaring dangerously bright before the one stored in the arrow
detonated. The whole circle was torn out of the ground as flash-fire
filled the air above it. A loud, angry cry of rage boomed from the
circle as one cloaked, smoking figure emerged.

Blinking
rapidly, I was trying to clear the darks spots from my vision when I
was suddenly staring straight into the face of a furiously screaming
mindflayer. The illithid was just abruptly there.
It snapped one long claw-hand out and wrapped its fingers around my
throat, throttling me as I was lifted straight off the ground towards
its beak. It was a terror that broke my courage and I screamed in
outright horror. Dropping Assanti, I snapped my hand outward, fingers
spread, and called the first spell that came to mind.

A
sparkly rainbow shot out of my hand and swirled around the illithid’s
head. I only had one brief moment to think “Color
spray?”
when the mindflayer remembered itself and screamed in fury, its
tentacles spread wide the angry beak rushing towards my face. I
cringed, closing my eyes as I brought my arms over my face, expecting
to have my brain torn out through my skull. A minute passed. I
cracked one eye open to see that hideous beak snapping futilely
around the arrow buried in the illithid’s head. I glanced down
the shaft to find my hand clenching the wood, my knuckles bone white
with the force I was gripping it. Anger burned within, and I shoved
the arrow as deeply as I could. The mindflayer crackled and garbled
as purple blood gurgled out of his beak. Its strength failed and I
dropped to the roof, shaking as the illithid weakly struggled to pull
the arrow from its throat. The creature burbled as it died. I could
feel the psionic waves of shear hatred pouring off of the mindflayer,
see my reflection in its big black eyes as its tentacles flailed
about the arrow shaft. It gave one last hissing burble then fell
limp, the levitation spell leaving it hanging in the air.

Gasping
for air, still trying to shake off the sheer terror I had felt at the
sight of that screaming beak rushing towards me, I massaged my hand
over my throat, trying to get my wits back in order. The illithid’s
corpse slowly drifted away. I couldn’t get over the fact that
in my moment of terror, I had cast Color Spray. Color Spray.
Seriously, what the fuck was that? Last spell of my life and I cast
Color Spray. It’s a wonder I wasn’t dead yet. Of course,
the next thing I did was just as stupid.

My
shields were designed to simply divert projectiles subtly away, not
stop them, so when I stood straight up into a quarrel's path it went
right through me.

The
quarrel punched through my chest with a gory spray of blood. I
slumped sideways, clutching at where the arrow stuck fast between my
ribs, futilely trying to halt the flow of blood. It felt like it had
gone through a lung. It hurt to breathe, every second was agony. The
only thought that was on my mind was that I was going to die.
“Lavora!”
I cried in mental desperation. I thought I felt some bright presence
brush against mine, but it may have also been vain hope. A few
moments of agony passed as I futilely tried to staunch the flow of
blood. I was certain that I would die there when I suddenly felt that
same bright presence above me. I craned my head up to see my
salvation soaring through the air on bright white wings.

Lavora
landed beside me, a pretty white flutter of wings and golden skin.
Well, it would have been pretty, had she not misjudged her landing
and stumbled three steps before collapsing on me. While I wish I
could say that I bore it stoically, the sad truth is that I shrieked
at the top of my lungs and nearly sobbed into unconsciousness. The
pain passed and my vision returned. Lavora was apologizing profusely
as she pulled back to see what the problem was.

“Ceald!”
she admonished on seeing my chest, as though a quarrel
in my side were somehow my fault. The templar's hands probed around
the wound quickly, before she nodded to herself and bit her lip. I
had pulled enough arrows out of my companions to know what it was
that she had to do. She met my gaze a little slowly.

I
gritted my teeth, focusing on the wall opposite me. “Just do it
already.”

She
nodded solemnly, gave me a brilliant smile, and snapped the quarrel's
head off. My world misted to white as my scream caught in my throat,
an instant of agony before a wave of healing energy, the bizarre
tingle of mending flesh, rushed through my blood and left me awake
and whole. Slightly dazed, I reached up with my right hand and rubbed
the new skin, grimacing at the blood and holes in my tunic. Huh. I
hadn't even felt her pull the bolt out. I tried to give the deva the
best smile I could. I was about to thank her, but Lavora seemed to
already know what I was about to say.

“Forget
it,” she said with a small smile as she waved my thanks away.
“I already owe you mine right? Only fair to help where I can.”
She blushed as she said it, her golden skin a darkening flush that
stood out all the more for her silver hair.

I
smiled my thanks anyway. “So how does the battle look from up
there?” I asked as she helped me up.

“I
could show better than tell you.” Surprised, I brought my green
eyes to her violet ones. “Gift of Sight,” she clarified,
“share what I’ve seen with you.”

That
was a pleasant surprise. “Can you show me the Seer?” I
asked.

Lavora
nodded and brought her hands to her forehead, thumbs clasped in the
shape of an eye. She closed her real eyes and the eye between her
fingers sparked and then I was flying high above the city. It was
dizzying at first, and coupled with the fact that Lavora’s
darkvision far outshone mine I was disoriented for most of Lavora’s
flight over the city, but by the time she soared over the Temple I
had managed to adjust. The Seer stood at the doors of the temple, a
brilliant circle of golden glyphs hovering in the air around her.
Priestesses of Eillistraee surrounded her. A huge pulse of golden
light suddenly flowed out from the circle and over the faithful in
the courtyard, the square, and it looked like it spread beyond into
the city as well. I was startled enough to snap out of Lavora’s
spell. She looked confused by my sudden withdrawal.

“What
was that light?” I asked.

Lavora
grinned. “Wasn’t that neat? With me here the Seer says
that Eillistraee’s power is near doubled. Apparently I can act
as a focus for the divine. That light was the Goddess’s gift to
her followers. It’s really just a standard circle of healing,
but it’s so strong!” Lavora’s eyes glowed brightly
from the rush she must have gotten. “It was amazing!”

The
deva’s cheer was infectious. I sat there smiling, a little in
relief and a little in the joy that seemed to spread from her. Lavora
seemed pleased with herself. “Is that all you need then?”
she asked.

I
nodded, still smiling lazily. “Yes, Lavora, thank you.”

“Alright,
I better get back then. Be careful out there! I might not get to you
next time!” She waved cheerily and with a great swoop of her
wings, lifted off the roof.

I
was watching Lavora fly back to the Temple when I heard a noisy
clatter from behind. I whipped around, Assanti held and an arrow
drawn back before I even knew what it was. The trapdoor that lead to
the roof had been forced open. Two rebels clambered out and turned to
haul the heavy stone door shut. Once it was shut they spent a moment
panting heavily before realizing that I was standing there watching
them, and, more importantly, I had an arrow drawn. They both stood at
once, holding their weapons at-ease. I almost did a double-take as I
glanced from face to face, seeing the same delicate features and
dark, ruby eyes on each one. They were twins.

The
one on the left spoke first, a little uneasily. “Commander
Ceald,” he said, “Lord Valen sent us. We broke through
from the Temple.”

Two
rebels? Valen really sent just two drow as reinforcements? I didn’t
believe them. My eyes narrowed as I peered at them closely. It reeked
of a trap. Two lone rebels separated in the fighting I could believe,
but not some story that the rebels had actually managed to break out
of the Temple. I’d seen the horde of soldiers surrounding it
myself. Two drow breaking free and finding me exactly just didn’t
ring true. Two drow assassins though, clad in the enemy’s
colors and targeting the leaders seemed much more likely. “Oh?”
I said, a little sarcastic. “Two are better than none, I
suppose.”

Their
features hardened. “We were twenty when we set out,” one
said.

Oh.
Sometimes I wish I could jump back ten seconds, just ten, to cancel
out whatever stupid thing I was about to say. Though... they were
rather convincing. I eyed them carefully, still not quite willing to
trust them. “Recite the Seer’s Prayer,” I said.

The
twins shared a confused look, but seemed game. They kneeled, dropped
their weapons to the side, clasped their hands in prayer and started
to speak.

“Mistress,”
they intoned in unison, “I would sing to thee but my voice is
cold with fear. Even now I do shiver in what is to come and I am
ashamed for my weakness. I have tried to play, and I do appreciate
the gift you have bestowed upon me, but my lips quiver when the flute
kisses them. I pray I am still in your favor Dark Maiden, for I know
my position sits unfavorably outside the glade and beneath the ground
in the temple of your mother-“

“Enough.”
I said, cutting them off. “I believe you.” I lowered my
bow and sheathed the arrow. It was the prayer, word for word, which
the Seer had recited to the massed rebels before the start of battle.
I dug into my pouch for a quill. Finding it, I motioned to the two
drow that they should remain kneeling. “Hold out your right and
left hands.” They glanced at each other questioningly, and then
complied. I think it was then the right twin introduced the two of
them, but the moment he said their names I spaced out, distracted
from remembering their names by the spell I was casting. I carefully
finished drawing a glowing sigil on the palm of each hand. “Watch
these,” I said as I drew. “These are temporary wards that
will protect you from being accidentally hurt by my spells. If this
fades,” I said carefully, trying to convey the seriousness of
the sigil, “You need to get as far away from me as quickly as
you can. If I have to cast an area effect, you’ll be consumed
the same as any of the Valsharess’ soldiers.” I saw them
cast worried glances at each other then, and while I felt bad about
giving them only temporary wards I was also uncomfortable warding
them at all. It left me very vulnerable should they suddenly turn for
whatever reason. Of all the people I’d ever given wards to,
which weren’t that many to begin with, only Valen and Nathyrra
had copies that still functioned.

I
pulled a handful of arrows from the quiver on my back and gripped
them tightly as I channeled. “Servansos
mia elo’Hasu,”
I chanted briefly, before holding
out the arrows to the twins. “Here. Each will cause a volley of
arrows to fall wherever it strikes. Make them count.” They
hesitated. “What?” I asked.

The
one on the right spoke first. “Uh, we only have crossbows,”
he said as he lifted the one in his hands a little pointedly.

I
rolled my eyes. “They’re magic
arrows,” I said, hefting the
glowing shafts just as pointedly. “They’ll work.”

The
twins blinked at them. “Oh,” they said simply, dividing
the arrows between the two of them. Mildly amused, I simply watched
them as they started firing the arrows down into the street below.
When an arrow almost clipped one I realized they could probably do
with a set of shields too. I sank into my power, surrounding myself
with it as I concentrated on weaving a pair of fine-tuned shields
around the twins. They weren’t nearly as powerful as the ones I
had been able to cast at the start of battle, but every little bit
helps when fighting a war.

My
senses heightened from the magical charge that hung heavily in the
air, I felt a sudden premonition of danger. I pulled my senses back
in on themselves as the feeling grew stronger and stronger. All my
instincts were screaming in alarm,
howling and scattering my thoughts when the air in front of me
suddenly wavered and sparked, and a fireball the size of the
warehouse itself leapt into existence inches away.

A
half-formed shield snapped into place just as the roiling ball of
flame slammed full-force into the building, the heat and pressure of
the blast nearly driving me to my knees as I struggled to keep the
shield up around the three of us, the strength of the spell riving
the entire structure
from its foundation. Though I’d stopped the fireball in its
tracks, the warehouse still
shuddered and tilted, leaning dangerously far to one side, a long,
loud groan tearing out of the building as the walls below snapped and
buckled. The twins and I darted across the roof, desperate to
counter-balance the sway of the building. I could feel that it had
done no good, however, vibrations jarring my teeth as more of the
warehouse's
insides split. It was one of those moments where time seemed to slow
to a crawl as we stared at each other, horrified.

The
sound of splintering rock and mushroom-wood filled the air as the
last anchors suddenly gave way, dust and grit flying up in a choking
cloud as the whole building collapsed into its side, spilling the
three elves on its roof into the plaza beside it. We tumbled to a
halt, dazed but whole, through sheer luck more than than anything
else. For what seemed an hour we lay there in a stupor, before I
suddenly came back to myself. If the Valsharess' attackers had any
brains at all they'd immediately be swarming the area, searching for
survivors to kill or... worse.

I
didn't know how long we had lain there, but too much time had passed
already. I leapt to my feet, wincing at the screams from pained
muscles. Shit, that fireball must have had at least five wizards
casting full force behind it. It had been brilliantly cast, and I
wasn’t used to simply trying to counter a spell with the mental
equivalent of brute force. I quickly surveyed the ruined warehouse
before running over to my two guards, kneeling and lightly slapping
one’s face, then the other’s.

“Hey,”
I said softly, “Hey, wake up, we gotta move. They'll be here
soon.”

The
one I woke first groaned and rolled his head, his white hair spilling
across the ground as he rolled over and dragged himself
to his knees. The other one, who hadn't lost his helm, was clambering
to his feet already, tossing his broken crossbow to the ground and
drawing his sword, nervously
glancing at the five streets that lead into the square.

“I
think they already are,” he said quietly, with a gesture that
encompassed the three streets still clear of the wreckage. “Come,
they’ll be here soon.” He bent to haul his brother up,
taking care to keep his free hand around the unsteady drow. He guided
his twin over to the dry fountain set near the edge of the plaza. The
drow sat heavily, with a noise that sounded a lot like a whimper.

“Will
you be alright?” I could still call Lavora if he was terribly
wounded, though that would take her away from the troops that needed
her more.

“Yeah,
sure, just give me a breather.” I watched him take a couple
deep breaths and stand. “See?” he said, “Just
needed a minute.” He managed to pull a smile from somewhere and
drew his scimitar. He nodded over my shoulder. “He’s
almost done.”

I
felt a tremor of magic at my back and turned to see the helmed twin
with his fingers held between his eyes and his face a mask of
concentration. I shot the wounded one a questioning look.

“His
magic sight,” the other brother said by way of explanation. I
keep forgetting that most all drow had some innate talent for
spellcasting, although only the ones who honed it could do anything
with it. I felt the quiver of magic dissipate as the drow’s
spell ended. His big ruby eyes slid open slowly, then blinked a few
times to shake off the spell. He saw me staring at him expectantly.

“Six
elite squads are headed here through the Agora,” he said. “The
ones in red and gold.” The red and gold meant they were called
Seekers or something. Skilled assassins that hunted the enemy elite.
Rumor had it that they used powerful magic to track their quarry and
that they killed anything that came between them and their prey. The
helmed twin was worried. His eyes wavered, sliding to his brother and
back to me. I knew what he was thinking. His twin wouldn’t be
able to keep up if we fled, and there was little chance of the
Valsharess’ forces passing him by no matter how thoroughly he
tried to hide. Although I didn’t want to stay in the plaza, I
also abhorred street to street fighting, and I never lost one of my
command. I gave in to the twin’s silent plea.

“Get
in the fountain and stay down.” I said as I strode to the
center of the plaza. “Don’t move unless I fall.”
When I reached it I stopped and started to prepare myself, mentally
testing my shields and finding the important ones still at a
satisfactory strength.

“One
minute!” One of the twins called. I stretched my arms and
twisted, gently pulling at sore joints and wincing as my back
cracked. Then a rolling wave of black swept over the plaza. I felt
the hiss of enemy magic slide over my skin at the same time I heard
running footsteps and jangle of armor. Blind, surrounded, I decided
to fall back on one of the simplest yet ridiculously powerful spells
in the mage’s spellbook.

“Cortano
verdigyama’h!”
I cried, bringing my hands up to conjure a casting. Between my
fingers tiny white runes crackled and collapsed to form a glittering
ball of glyph magic. It was blindingly bright in the dark. Spinning
of its own volition, arcane missiles started to snap and fly off in
succession, each one disappearing into the darkness. I could hear the
cries of soldiers and the sizzle of flesh as they struck. I decided
to up the ante.

“Cortano
verdigyama’h!”
I screamed, “Cortano
verdigyama’h!
Cortano
verdigyama’h!”
A massive storm of magic missiles poured through the dazzling orb in
my hands, slamming over and over into the drow surrounding us. Waves
of soldiers fell as the arcane energy blistered flesh and tore
through limbs. At some point the darkness spells wore off and the
plaza blinked back into focus. With mental force I kept the
glyph-ball spinning and poured as much energy as I could into the
missiles spat out of it. The ball took to the energy as easily as
sand takes to water. It sucked at all I gave and tried to pull more.
Eventually I simply didn’t have the focus to keep the ball
moving though, and it cracked and broke into its separate runes.

I
held the slight flickering light of fading glyphs in my hands as my
mind spun, blinking at the fading orb and trying to remember what I
had just been doing. I glanced up dazedly to see a new contingent of
drow soldiers rushing into the plaza, except that this time they were
lead by two officers in red and purple robes draped over ceremonial
armor. The officers were in the forefront of the attack, chanting and
casting as they ran towards me. I idly tried to remember why it was
important that... something. Something. It was on the very tip of my
tongue, I just had to remember what I was doing. I had been casting
spells because... my eyes flicked to the glowing sigils wrapped
around the clenched fists of the male battlemage. I vaguely
recognized them as some variation of spell-mantle, but for him to
have those up would mean he was battling a mage or- battle. Battle.
Suddenly my mind started working again and I snapped into action.

I
thrust out my arms, palms open and fingers raised. “Eins,
Rho, Droe!”
it was nearly all one word. With droe a glistening shield sprang
forth just as the two battlemages unleashed their first spells. The
woman threw something sparkly that glowed for a moment as it slid
against my barrier. The man leveled a rod that shot some sort of
shadowy bolt or something, I wasn’t really paying attention.
This was bad, facing mages that had an army of reinforcements. All
they needed to do was get off a few good counterspells and I’d
be left at the mercy of the soldiers’ swords. I had already
used the Amplifier rod though and I couldn’t risk being pulled
out of the dragon form again. That left only a few options, some that
wouldn’t do much to even the odds and a couple that were just
distasteful. I grimaced as the pink and gold shield started to
tremble and bow in under the battlemages’ assault. ‘Fuck
it,’
I thought, squelching my moral qualms. I dug into my bag and pulled
out a little runed pouch with a drawstring tie. I pulled it open and
dumped the contents, a single obsidian ball, the size of a marble,
into my palm. I winced in disgust as the caliginous presence it
housed brushed my thoughts. It was pleased to be released once more.

“Das
Vedal Eske!”
I called, releasing the eidolon from its prison. I flicked the marble
into the air, where a porous shadow spilled out of the dark orb,
blackening as the phantasm inside gained power.

I
dropped the shield just as the nightmare emanation reached its full
snarling height. To my eyes, the emanation looked like nothing more
than a fragment of shadow. In my mind’s eye though, I could
picture exactly what sort terrifying abomination that I had just
unleashed. Yellowed rolls of fat dripping some moist fluid, a
dragon’s body with the limbs of birds and mammals, lumped into
a horrid amalgamation so twisted and terrible that it couldn’t
be possible for such a creature to exist. That wasn’t even the
worst part either. Its eyes, its eyes were so much worse. Its
hideous, hate-filled eyes that only when one looked deeper did he
realize that they held an underlying tone of raw sexual desire,
and... that’s when you realized what exactly all the oozing
protuberances along the creature’s limbs were for.

I
knew because I had faced one before. I prayed that I would never face
another again either. It took a powerful mind to escape the
nightmare’s thrall, and even then there was no telling if one
would make it out unharmed. I had been lucky, extremely lucky, that
first time. These drow weren’t fairing nearly so well.

The
shadow had grown quickly. A dusky curtain had spread over the
battlemages, their squadron, and nearly half the city block behind
them. The air inside the shadow looked gritty, like it was filled
with floating sand, and the drow it touched jerked about unnaturally
as their eyes rolled back into their heads, their mouths frozen open
in silent screams. Some struggled mightily, only half-caught, but
most were beyond hope of rescue.

Whatever
the nightmare was doing to the minds of the drow ended abruptly.
Corpses dropped to the ground with heavy thuds, leaving a faint hint
of... something behind, something trapped in the nightmare’s
grasp. Otherworldly screams sounded as the abomination’s
strength started to ebb. It pulled backwards, collapsing in on itself
in waves as a dark, swirling vortex started to form where I had
tossed the black marble. The last bits of grainy shadow coalesced
quickly, leaving only the black marble with the faint glow of
streetlamps reflecting on its obsidian glass.

It
practically oozed dark satisfaction.

I
hesitated a moment before bending to pick the marble up. Something
disturbing flickered beneath the surface of the glass as my fingers
closed about it, almost coming to life at the touch of my skin. I
could feel the delight of fresh blood, fresh screams and sweet
release pour out of it. I shuddered in revulsion and dropped the
marble back in its pouch, and pulled the seal tight as I tucked it
back in my bag.

The
drow that had survived had already fled. I was more than a little
relieved that they hadn’t continued to attack. My spells were
starting to become too taxing to cast. If I had an hour or two I
could rest and recharge enough that I wouldn’t be in danger of
using my reserves, but I wouldn’t get the time while the city
remained a battlefield. I gnawed my lip a little as I tried to recall
the quickest-but-safest path from here to the Temple. If we swung out
towards the Maevirr Tower, there was the double chance of skirting
past the forces surrounding the Temple and picking up reinforcements,
but that also meant that we’d have to retreat over the ruined
warehouse Surveying the heap of ruined stones that blocked the
quickest path to the Maevirr Tower, I was poised to haul myself up
over the first ledge when one of the twins gave a warning cry.
Twisting around, I glanced back to see a fresh wave of invaders
rushing full speed across the plaza. My first thought was something
akin to “fuck!” It was along the same line as when I saw
the harbor full of the Valsharess’s ships. This time though,
instead of “fuck!” being followed by dismay, it was
followed by anger. Blood-pounding, righteous anger.

I
stalked towards the charging drow, electric runes sizzling in the air
around me. I was tired of these waves of trash soldiers, of being
kept on constant alert, of having to cast every Tyr-damned spell at
full charge just to make sure there was no chance of resistance, and
I was absolutely sick of having being the target of an entire fucking
army while everyone else sat back and twiddled their thumbs. I
hunched my shoulders and as I braced my body for the spell.

“Verdig-raunkin,”
I said,
speaking deeply. “Gestro-Hiela.”
I drew my finger back to my nose and spun quickly, snapping my arms
out to match the flare of power. Huge helical glyphs whorled about
me. I drew the focus to finish casting the spell as I targeted the
fresh wave of invaders. We needed time to fall back, before more
spellcasters arrived to hamper my magic, and if I fought
conservatively the rushing troops would keep me in check long enough
for their mages to catch me. I intended to end this quickly. The last
glyph snapped into place. “Multicast: Sphere!”

Scintillating
spheres burst from my hands in concentrated waves. They lept across
the plaza to strike the rushing legionnaires, each sphere crackling
with electric might. One alone was not enough to kill, but with the
second and third spheres close behind the damage was too great to be
nulled by the drow’s innate resistance. Each electric ball
ricocheted from drow to drow. Those who weren’t caught by the
first were caught by the second, and by the time the fourth hit not
even the strongest were left standing. I straightened as the last of
the spheres petered out, swaying a little as my visioned darkened and
a wave of dizziness struck. Fuck. Two multicasts in the same day
really took a lot out of me. The wave passed and I could see again. I
worried my lip in thought, weighing the odds of whether I should try
to make it back to Valen at the Temple or Nathyrra at the gates. The
Temple was likely to still be surrounded, whereas it should be a
clear run to the gates. I thought of the clustered mass of soldiers
I’d seen in the square. Nathyrra might just be my best option.
The gates it was.

“We
should go,” I said, turning to clamber over the rubble of the
warehouse The ground rumbled. I froze. I glanced at the twins in
confusion. They hadn’t seemed to notice anything so I started
to climb up the rubble again. I could feel the tremor though my boots
this time. Rocks and dust stirred as the warehouse ruins shifted.
“Wha-?” I pulled back from the wreckage as debris started
to roll from the top. The ground rolled beneath my feet as something
huge dug past. I watched the bricks of the plaza crack and split as
three converging lines met by the fountain. Stones cracked and the
fountain basin broke and fell into the rapidly widening hole. Huge
chitinous arms clawed their way out to heave up the heavy umber hulk
bodies. I blinked in confusion as one tried to catch my gaze with its
myriad eyes. I knew there were only four, but one would blink and
then there were still four but-

A
shout startled me out of the umber hulk’s thought-quenching
gaze. The hulks were forced back as black-clad assassins lept nimbly
out of the tunnel the big creatures had dug. They had their weapons
drawn and were already raising their swords up to swing down when I
snapped my hands up and cast.

“Verdig-raunkin!
Souta!”
A searing circle of orbiting flame ballooned outwards from my
upraised hands, flaying the drow around us. Dying screams sounded
from their throats, an instant of pain before they were incinerated.
I fell to my knees, panting heavily, hardly able to keep conscious.
The world was blurring, the umber hulks before me doubling and
swirling
as I struggled to focus. My spell hadn’t had any effect on the
creatures. The twins were battling them, their short blades finding
the chinks and cracks where joints met beneath the chitinous armor.
No amount of skill could match the sheer size and strength of the
umber hulks though. It was obvious the two drow were trying to buy me
time, to escape or to save them I do not know, but either way their
hopes rested on me acting.

Aching
and tired, strained beyond reason from the constant spells, I
struggled to focus the energy for another casting. My mind was
screaming at me, thoughts slipping through my fingers as I strained
against the laws of reality once more. Ley strands shimmered into
life around the square, illuminating the hulks in a queer glow that
bathed the area in an azure hue. I called upon the last of my spells,
seeking the plane of shadow, calling out across the worlds for aid,
desperate for a response from any of the great planes-walking beasts.

I
was in luck. My plea was heard and answered joyfully. The lines
coiled about the six massive insects, spilling over them and melting
into the stones of the plaza. The creatures whistled and trilled to
each other, confused by the spectacle.
Then the swirling rifts at their feet tinged black. It had arrived
quicker than I had anticipated; an amoral, implacable force that
would devour all it could grasp, the air of the plaza itself
darkening with the creature’s malevolent hunger.

“Ge-,”
I choked, my throat dry and full of dust. I coughed and hacked,
gagging on the syllables I tried to force out of my throat. The twins
were still weaving through the snatching arms of the hulk, heedless,
or perhaps uncaring, of the danger they were in. I sucked in air past
my chapped lips. “Get back, move, please,” I croaked,
begging for Tyr, Mystra, Lloth, *anybody,* to hear and get them out
of harm’s way. I should have warned them that the glyphs
protected them from my spells, but not from the creatures I summoned.
I could feel the thinning of the air as my spell wound closer to
completion, the encroaching presence
of something vast, ancient, and terribly alien.

Shrill
screams, a thousand echoes of a single fluted voice, erupted through
the portals as grotesque black tentacles
poured out, curling
about the huge bugs so tightly that the chitinous armor started to
crack and burst under the strength of the Uldivian kraken.
The black ooze of the void dripped from the tentacles, hissing where
it struck the ornate stones of the plaza. Two of the hulks had
already been wrung and broken; the dexterous arms about them tearing
off limbs, feeding a great dark beak that still sounded its wretched
call. The other four hulks were struggling mightily with the
reaching, grasping arms, latching into the oily skin and burrowing at
the thick dark veins that coursed along each tentacle.

The twin drow seemed to finally realize that it
would be a very, very good idea for them to get the fuck away from
the probing arms that now searched the plaza for yet more prey. The
helmed one spun about and ran, quicker than his brother, who lagged a
pace behind.

They
were fast, but not fast enough. The Kraken had sensed their presence
and a host of thick, squirming tentacles broke from the umber hulks
to wrap around the fleeing twins. They had almost encircled the drow
when I finally mustered the strength to act again.

“Stop.”
I commanded, one arm outstretched, nearly collapsing as the force of
the order struck the tentacles closest to the elves. There was a
ripple in the air as the Kraken’s arms were halted mid-reach
for the twins, the leviathan mentally testing my resolve. Inside, I
tensed, praying that single command had been enough. It was only a
bluff; I didn’t actually have the power to stop it again. Right
now it was all I could do to simply hold the conduit between the
worlds open. The Kraken’s strength far exceeded my own, and if
it truly wanted, the Kraken could probably take me as well.

That
slight hesitation was all that was needed. The twins darted through
the last little gap in the tentacles and were beyond the reach of the
beast. The Kraken’s arms hovered in the air for a moment,
before a surge of drow soldiers on the other side of the plaza
distracted it once more. The Valsharess had skilled soldiers, to say
the least. They wove in and out of the tentacles, their enchanted
blades biting deep into the oily arms of the beast. Were it younger,
it would have almost been a fair fight, but with age came a
maturation of animal cunning and physical strength. This leviathan
knew that all it needed to do was focus on the arms and legs of the
drow, and once they were caught the Kraken never let go, despite
whatever damage it might sustain. It was a method that ensured no
survivors.

Distracted
by the Kraken’s rampage, it was already too late to fight when
I felt spellwarding bonds loop around my body. I opened my mouth to
call warning to my two guards, but as soon I realized I had been
enscrolled a beam of light fell from above. Blindingly bright, the
beam exploded when it struck the ground, tossing the twins back into
the rubble of the fountain as I felt the tattered remnants of my
wards dissipate beneath the force of the blow. With my concentration
broken, I could feel the last of the spell settle into place, feel
the bonds tighten and bridge the gap to the physical world. I was
trussed tighter than if they’d tied me up with rope, and there
was no hope of me breaking this spell anytime soon, not in the
drained state I was in. All I could hope for now was that the Kraken
would buy me enough time for reinforcements to drive the legionnaires
away.

“Stay
back you fools! You only feed it!” a woman’s voice
ordered, echoing out from beyond the Kraken’s arms. Most of the
attacking drow were already too deep in the writhing mass of
tentacles to escape, but a few near the rear of the plaza managed to
make it out past the reach of the Kraken. The soldiers still caught
screamed and writhed until the black arms had wrung all life from the
bodies, and the tentacles pulled the corpses through the gates to
feed the unseen mouth. At least, the lucky ones were killed. The
unlucky were dragged through the portals alive.

An
anxious standstill ensued as the drow retreated beyond the Kraken’s
reach and waited for the spellcaster with them to dispel the gate.
They needn’t have bothered. I couldn't hold it open any longer.
The Uldivian kraken, growing bored without anymore fleshlings to
consume, pulled its arms back through the rifts and released the
bonds that kept the portals linked with the world of its own,
withdrawing its indomitable strength from the casting. I grasped at
the fading strings of power but I may as well have been snatching at
shadows for all the good it did me. With one last, fluted shriek, the
long black tentacles slid back into the Abyss, leaving a clear view
of the contingent that stood at the entrance to the square.

My
last defense had just disappeared.

Nothing
stood between myself and the invaders save the two wounded drow,
crouched behind the rubble of the fountain’s rim. They could
hardly stand. I doubted that they would make it through the day. I
wasn't likely to either, for that matter.

The
attackers moved cautiously out of the smoky haze that drifted along
the streets. A series of drow thralls and female lieutenants,
marched out into the square, a precise order that must have been well
drilled into them. At some unknown signal they parted to either side.
A dark female figure strode confidently out of the haze. I’d
seen her like before, in the other Red Sisters I’d encountered
in the Underdark. The Sisters were the elite of the Valsharess’
army, powerful clerics who had rediscovered their divine powers
through whatever devil the Valsharess had summoned. I could tell that
this Sister here was the one responsible for the bonds around me now.
She walked with a loose-hipped swagger, her robe parting to show
stretches of long, dark legs and red heeled-boots.

She
halted only inches away, towering over me while I was still on my
knees. I couldn’t even manage a glare of defiance for the
red-robed cleric who stood haughtily, smirking in triumph.

“So,
this is the rivvel who would think to stand before the might of the
Valsharess?” she said in thickly accented Common. She bent to
tug my my head up towards hers. The cruel cast to her maroon eyes
darkened as her lip curled up in a sneer. The cleric harshly jerked
my face to either side, her lacquered
nails digging roughly into my skin. “Pathetic.”

I
almost laughed, despite my fatigue. As if the stupid bitch could have
ever stood a chance against me even when I had only the barest shred
of strength in my body. On the brink of death though I may be, I
wasn't about to go down without my pride. Had we faced each other but
ten minutes sooner, she would have fared little better against
me than the hulks had against the kraken.

She
seemed to sense my defiance through my mocking glare however, her
eyes slightly widening with fear before she caught herself and
snarled, snapping her hand back and striking my face. The blow drove
me to the ground. I barely managed to break my fall, my arms heavy
leaden weights the didn't seem to bend as well or as fast as they
should have. It was so damn hard to just prop myself on my elbows, to
simply turn my head to see the cleric still standing triumphantly
over me.

She
grinned, her teeth an ivory band against
her onyx skin. It could have been almost pretty, in a way, I suppose.
The drow behind her had fanned out around the square, sweaty and
dusty, looking all the worse for their battles in the city. It made
the Sister seem all the more surreal in her pristine robes. She must
not have done much fighting herself. Closest to me was another woman,
malice glinting in her eyes as she watched the cleric lord herself
over me. It seemed that not even her own ranks liked her. Funny the
things one notices
right before his death. The Sister crouched down, resting on her
heels. Her legs slid through the slits of her robe, her skin almost
glinting in the light of the two remaining streetlamps.

She
spoke again. “Why, male, do you not know your place? I would
think even surfacers,” she sneered at the word, twisting her
lips around it, “would know how to discipline their men.”
A slight chuckle ran through her troops. They seemed awfully sedate
and almost carefree. My eyes widened as a sudden thought popped into
my head. It couldn’t be possible, not after the loss of the
ships on the Dark River, not after I exhausted myself killing so
many, but... what if the Seer had already fallen? Tyr’s heart,
I hoped not. Please, no. I met her gaze again, more than worried. Her
face revealed nothing.

“Such
a pretty elf,” she said, adding a sadistic snarl to her voice.
“Such pretty eyes.”

She
strapped her mace and caressed
the blade at her side, making sure I could grasp the rather
unmistakable connection between her comment and the knife. “The
Valsharess shall reward me well when she finds out that it was I
who... cut them out.” She smirked vindictively. “You see,
rivvel, you’ve been more than just a thorn in the side of the
Red Sisters. You made us bleed. It’s time that the Sisters
return the favor.”

The
cleric caught my face in one gauntleted grip, and with bruising force
and wrenched my head up. “There will be no quick death. Nor
even a slow one. You, rivvel,” she said in a low, close
whisper, “Shall suffer a very, very... long... time. Years,
rivvel.” I could hear the vindication in her voice. She was
enjoying this.

My
resolve cracked as a tiny, fragile portion of my mind quaked at the
sheer force of malevolence in her gaze. She pulled the dark knife
from its sheath and slowly ran it underneath my neck, never taking
her red eyes from mine. I could feel the edge biting in as she drew
it along the alongside my jaw. I knew the cuts were shallow, but the
fear of where else that knife would go was starting to quake my core.
The cleric pulled it back then placed it almost gently on my lips.

“We’re
starting your training now, rivvel,” she said, “And this
will be your first test.” A dark grin spread over her face as
she examined me once more. “Just remember that things go easier
for those who cooperate.”

The
Sister loosened her grip and pulled my jaw open, setting the blade on
my lips. Her dark, hooded eyes swept over me once more. “I’m
only going to tell you this once, rivvel.” She rubbed her thumb
over the side of my mouth. “Kiss my blade.” A spark of
black humor shone in her eyes as her smile quirked. “To the
hilt, rivvel.”

I
slowly took the knife into my mouth, carefully settling it on my
teeth and pulling my tongue back from the edge of the blade. The
knife was cold and coppery with the taste of my own blood. If it
weren’t for the spell holding me still I’d have been
trembling, waiting for the moment that she’d viciously tear the
blade back out. She seemed contemplative as she gazed down at me.
“My, that was a quick surrender, pretty boy. Some mistresses
like pets that fight being broken. I am not one of them. Too much
trouble.” My gaze shifted from her hand to her face, suddenly
feeling a twinge of self-loathing and... shame that I’d given
in so easily.

“Such
pretty, pretty eyes,” she murmured again, almost to herself,
running her thumb softly over the right side of my face. The Red
Sister slowly slid the knife out of my mouth and licked it, grinding
her hips in erotic bliss as she ran her tongue over the blade. “I’d
hate to ruin a face like yours. Eyes like those. Never see them...”
she trailed off.

She
glanced down again and suddenly tightened her grip on my jaw, her
entire face lighting up with dark promise. “Maybe I’ll
just take one.” She grinned, bringing her knife back to my
face. My mind quailed and I even managed to cringe despite the bonds
of the spell holding me. The Sister dug her fingers into my cheeks as
I desperately tried to jerk free, my eyes locked on the point of her
blade as she brought it up to my left eye at a sadistically slow
pace. Inside, I cracked and started screaming, trying to jerk and
away and wishing with all my might that something would stop her,
something would kill her, *now*.

She
didn’t stand a chance.

Her
chest exploded in haze of blood and bone as something green and red
smashed into her with such force and speed that it was nearly a full
minute before my mind processed the fact that she was dead. The
Sister’s body lay in front of me, her eyes not even widened in
shock, ribs and bloody organs sticking out through her bodice,
rapidly spreading blood pouring out from the massive blow that had
carved out her torso. I dimly registered the sounds of battle in the
background and pushed myself up with agonizing slowness to see what
was happening across the plaza.

Gore
littered the area. Limbs were shorn clean where they were not
outright torn off, puddles of blood pooling among the broken tiles.
The mangled bodies of drow, hair pinked by their spreading blood,
were strewn about the square in a haphazard fashion. In the middle of
the avenue, a single storm of furious death was tearing through the
drow squadron.

Valen
had finally found me.

His
face twisted into a terrifying expression of rage, I watched,
enthralled, as the weaponsmaster brought his flail down on an armored
lieutenant, cleaving straight through her mace, her skull, and most
of her body. The demon dropped the handle of his stuck flail and
simply shoved his fingers in the mouth of the screaming swordsman
behind him and tore off his jaw. The man collapsed as blood gushed
from his mouth, but Valen was already twisting around and grabbing
the arm of the next attacker and snapping it in two, mail and all,
over his knee. I knew Valen was deadly, extremely deadly, but I’d
never seen him move so fast, or with such ferocity. The demon kicked
an attacker away and smashed his fist into the open helm of another
before spinning back to grab his flail and begin his assault on the
drow anew. He was more than just untouchable. He was like a god among
rats. Nothing could even slow him as slaughtered an entire squadron
by himself.

Then
there were drow in white among the drow in red, and the forces of the
Valsharess broke rank and started to flee. Valen slowed and stopped,
his chest heaving as the army of the Seer set to follow the invaders
down the streets. There was a stream of white pursuing red, parting
around the huge demon in their middle. The last of the soldiers
rushed past me, and I suddenly realized how quiet it had gotten
without the sound of blood pounding in my ears.

Valen
turned back to me, panting heavily and glaring, his fists clenched at
his sides and his flail covered in bloody pieces of drow. His eyes
met mine, and I couldn't help but smile from the depths of my soul at
him. The demon jerked, apparently taken aback for a moment, then let
his lips twitch upwards in a tiny little smile of his own.

A
flicker of motion broke my attention and I glanced to see a swordsman
in white tending to my dedicated guards over by the ruined fountain.
The swordsman knelt by the one who had struck the fountain as he
fell, pulling the unmistakable red vial of a healing potion from his
pouch. A sigh
of relief escaped my lips and I rolled over on to my back, a position
where the ground didn't seem quite so cool. The twins would be
alright.

Everything
would be alright. I could revel in the near quiet, bask in the moment
of stillness. I stared blankly up at the darkness of the cavern
ceiling, wondering idly what my savior was up to but too tired to
lift my head to look.

Valen
answered my question himself, slipping into my line of sight. His
hair had slipped from his braid, blood soaked his armor and soot
covered his face, but never had I seen a sight more beautiful than
when he looked down at me then. Well, perhaps, the way that he had
torn through those drow like a blender, but this was still at least a
close second. Truthfully, I was still in a state of shock. Death came
perilously close many times, yet it never seemed as personal, as
malicious as what that Sister had been about to do to me.

A
heady laugh escaped my lips. The demon glanced down at me, surprised
again. It was so strange, to laugh then, but I just couldn’t
help it. It was somewhat breathless and probably a tad hysterical,
but it felt so damn good to suddenly release all the tension I hadn’t
known I’d been holding in.

I
grinned, meeting Valen’s eyes. “You’re something
else Valen, you really are.” My voice was warm, though only
part from admiration. “I don’t think that I’ve ever
been more terrified in my life. Fuck,” a shudder ran through me
at the thought of the Sister and her... pets. “Scariest thing
that ever happened to me.” I laughed, a little
self-deprecating.

His
face fell slightly, a flash so quick that I'd almost thought I'd
mistaken it. Puzzled, but too tired to bother to think, I continued
to simply stare up at him. The demon shifted uncomfortably, before he
started and kneeled down beside me, pulling several small healing
vials from the pouch at his side.

“You
aren't injured, are you?” he asked, eying
the blood that had soaked the front of my tunic. I doubted that my
pants were much cleaner. I shook my head.

“None
of it's mine,” I said, “At least, none of the recent
stuff. Lavora caught me at some point.” Had it been only an
hour ago, or more perhaps? The battle seemed so blurry now.

Valen
was scrutinizing me again, that way that made me feel so naked
beneath his sight. Had I the energy, I'm sure I would have started
squirming. As it was I could only watch him, and silently wish that
the sharp pebble that was jamming into my side would somehow go away.
I held my breath for a moment. Nope, still there. I flinched as I
felt Valen's hands start to prod and poke, checking for injuries and
broken bones. Seemingly satisfied, he grabbed one of the smaller
potions from the ground.

“Can
you walk?” he asked, holding the little vial to my lips. I
dumbly opened my mouth and drank the elixir,
wincing at the tingle that shot through my body, repairing a myriad
of bruises and aches I hadn't even realized I had gotten. I'd have to
remember to thank him later. Tomorrow would have been an awfully sore
day if he hadn't thought to give me the potion.

But,
potion or no, continuous spellcasting of some of the most destructive
magic I knew had exhausted the nerves throughout my entire system. I
wouldn't be moving on my own accord any time soon. I gave him a wry
grin. “I doubt it... I think I was a little too zealous with my
spells.”

Valen
frowned worriedly. “You didn’t rebound did you?” he
asked. A rebound is what happens to mages who over-extend themselves.
It tends to happen more often to sorcerers than wizards, since all
they need is the will versus the focus to keep a spellbook memorized.
The mage essentially uses up too much energy, even on the most basic
level, the kind that keeps us conscious, and can spend the next few
days with anything from about a hangover to painful, nerve-wracking
spasms so bad most would rather die then ever go through them again.

“No,
‘m just tired.” I said, wracked by a sudden yawn. Shit, I
didn't even have the energy to stay awake, much less make it back to
the temple. Well, it wasn't so bad, I guess. The plaza tiles were
starting to feel mighty comfortable, even where sharp rocks were
pressing into my back.

“What,
are you going to just sleep there?” I heard him ask. Heh, I
hadn't even realized I'd closed my eyes. I opened them and stared up
at him, arching one blond eyebrow. Valen simply stared back,
unperturbed,
as always. It suddenly struck me then, just how... how *Valen*
it was to save me from the brink of a fate worse than death in a
whirlwind of blood, bone, and gore, then just nonchalantly act like
nothing much had happened at all. My lips twitched in a smile.

“Well,
unless you feel like carrying me, yes, I am.” I closed my eyes
again, dismissing him. The sooner I regenerated, the sooner I could
work out all that had happened today. Pointy rocks or no, battle or
no, Reverie was the only thing I could manage right now, and besides,
I was no use to anyone in this state.

Only
vaguely aware of hands slipping under my knees and back, I didn’t
even think anything of it until I felt a sudden rush of vertigo as I
was hauled up and tucked against a solid breastplate. I opened my
eyes and groggily glanced up at who had just lifted me.

“Valen?”
I asked, startled.

“What?”
He looked a bit sheepish as his face started to flush. “Did you
really think I was just going to leave you there?”

I
stared at the demon for a moment before suddenly I grinned at him,
ecstatic
joy welling upwards in my heart. It was stupid, there was no real
reason to feel so happy just because it was *Valen* who rescued me,
but... everything just was so much better now that I had him back.

A
part of me was startled by how quickly I sank into the shield of his
body, but I chose to pass it off as sheer exhaustion rather than any
sort of... you know. I buried my face into the slightly softer part
of his armor, the place where the plate jointed and padded leather
stuck out. Valen was talking to me, indistinguishable words in the
distance. I didn’t want to slip into Reverie so soon, not when
the battle had just been won, not when I was... in Valen's arms, not
when I actually wanted to enjoy this...

My
lids were just so *heavy* though,
and the demon had
such a wonderfully warm, comforting, heat that poured off of his
body, and the rhythm
of his stride was so soothing...

Asco's
blood, I could just sleep forever...

----++-----

“verdig”
is a power word, meant to give focus to a spell. It basically
augments it.

“raunkin”
refers to the elements. Any word after that essentially calls them
into being.

“servansos”
is the word Ceald uses to enchant his arrows. It’s not actually
a magic word, it’s just something he uses to focus.

The
Seer’s Prayer I got from LunarMynx’s “Prayer of the
Full Moon” at
http://frontier.nwvault.ign.com/phpbb2/viewforum.php?f=8
which is a list of pantheons and prayers to them. It’s pretty
cool.
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Ceald Amothien