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Judas	By : BronxWench Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights 2 and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 5
“Well, it seems I only thought he was big before,” murmured Grobnar. He patted his Construct distractedly. The palpable feeling of menace that hung over the room thickened, as shadows coalesced into the form of the Guardian. It drew upon the fell energies concentrated in the blackened statues. With an inhuman roar of pure rage, it turned to attack.
“Tyr's right buttock!” Khelgar swore, and spat. “What will it take to kill this thing?”
“We have weakened it,” Zhjaeve said, her voice firm. “Know this, and know that we will prevail.”
“The gith is correct,” Ammon said. “It's drawing power from the statues now. Destroy them, and we have a chance.”
“A chance?” Bishop stared at the warlock, incredulous. “Aren't you a bright ray of hope?”
“Enough!” Her voice was sharp. “Khelgar, you and Construct need to deal with the statues. Now.” Her eyes were almost as black as the Guardian's in the gloom, and Bishop's spine turned to ice. “The rest of us will draw the Guardian's attention.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Sand drawled.
She's nearly spent, Bishop thought to himself. She can barely raise her shield, and none of us can use that damned sword of hers. He was loosing arrows as fast as he could draw. Didn't think it would end like this. Time seemed to slow for him as the battle began to rage in earnest.
Just in front of him, Sand dropped a spent wand, reaching for another. It had been his last, and with a muttered oath, he began to pull together reagents. Elanee moved closer to the elven wizard, shielding him while he concentrated on casting.
Bishop watched as the Captain tossed her shield aside, its weight too great a burden. Neeshka sidestepped the spinning metal, her tail lashing in agitation. The rest of the party was fighting with desperate fury, each calling on their own skills as best as they could in the face of their implacable foe.
Casavir lay still and pale on the ground at the Captain's feet. Bishop couldn't tell if he was dead or just unconscious, not that he cared either way, until Grobnar used her rod of resurrection, and the paladin struggled to his feet.
Still caught in the odd time flow, Bishop saw the Captain release the individual shards from the sword, creating a hail of silver that sliced deeply into the Guardian's black flesh. Despite her exhaustion, she still moved with fluid grace, spinning away from the Guardian's attacks and making it look easy. Perhaps it was because she had cast away her shield, sacrificing its protection, that she looked so very vulnerable to Bishop. As she narrowly sidestepped a blow that would have crushed her, Bishop struggled to raise his bow with arms gone leaden with fatigue.
The last statue crumbled, and as Khelgar screamed his triumph, the Guardian let out a primal roar of rage and pain. It seemed to visibly diminish, growing slightly transparent before consolidating itself more compactly. Bishop's vision flickered, and time sped up once again.
“The portal!” Ammon shouted. “Use the sword!”
As she spun, she staggered and nearly fell. The Guardian swung a still-massive hand, and she tumbled across the floor. Ignoring the flurry of attacks from her companions, the Guardian lunged at her. She invoked the hail of shards again, and used the precious few seconds to regain her footing. The blow had cost her dearly. Talons had rent her armor, and blood seeped through the mithral chainmail in too many places.
“Hells take you, paladin!” Bishop shouted as he ran forward. “Get your sorry carcass between her and that thing!” He snatched his dagger from his belt, slamming into Casavir and shoving him at the Guardian.
“That's the spirit!” Khelgar roared. The Hammer of Ironfist slammed into the Guardian, slowing it. Casavir's warhammer crunched into the opposite side of the Guardian, spinning it back towards Khelgar.
Bishop skidded to a halt and reached for her, pulling her behind him. I have gone insane, he thought. Fumbling in his belt pouch, he found his last healing potion, and shoved it into her hands.
“Do you still have that thing from the devil? That interdimensional pebble?” he asked, urgency roughening his voice. “If it would work on a gith portal, might be worth a try now.”
“Are you mad? You will bring this whole place down around our ears!” Sand snarled.
“If you've got anything better, wizard, let's hear it, fast,” Bishop retorted.
Sand began casting, and the Captain was surrounded by a shimmering field that almost completely obscured her. She tossed the empty potion flask away, and headed for the portal. As she slammed the sword against the edge of the portal, she screamed in agony. Shockwaves of arcane energy rolled out from the damaged portal, and the sword itself shrieked in protest as the dissonance reached it.
“It's working!” Ammon called to her, and indeed, the Guardian had faltered as the sword bit into the portal. She struck, again and again, and with each blow that landed, the Guardian weakened. Blood ran freely down her chin from where she had bitten her lip as she fought the backlash of her attacks. She gripped the sword with both hands, and struck a particularly savage blow, shattering the portal in a burst of energy that sent everyone sprawling. She loosed a final hail of shards as she slid backwards, slamming into the wall with gruesome force. Light flared, blinding them.
The intense light faded after long moments, and the battered group looked around warily. There was no sign of the Guardian, nothing but the rubble of the shattered statues and the scorched and smoking ruin of the portal. Bishop struggled to his feet, his right arm hanging useless at his side. He gritted his teeth against the pain and looked around to see her slumped unconscious against the wall, blood pooled around her.
“Zhjaeve? Elanee?” he croaked. “The Captain...” He stumbled toward her, falling to his knees and checking for a pulse.
It was Grobnar who made his way to her side in answer to Bishop's plea. The Construct had shielded the gnome from the worst of the blast, and his bardic protections had absorbed any residual damage.
“Oh, my,” Grobnar murmured. “The Captain looks almost as bad as my third cousin on my great-uncle's side after a few months in that Luskan cell.” As he prattled, he was pawing through his pack, pulling out an assortment of objects that were mostly unidentifiable. “To tell you the truth, we did think he was dead for two days, and my great-great-grandmother still hasn't recovered from seeing him hop out of the sarcophagus.” Bishop clenched his jaw, ready to interrupt, when the gnome pulled out a flask. “There you are! I knew you were in there somewhere!” He uncorked the flask and gently held the Captain's head, feeding her a few drops at a time until she coughed and opened her eyes. “Hello, Captain!”
“Give her the rest,” Bishop snarled. Dismayed, he stared into her eyes, gone black as night, no trick of lighting darkening them this time.
“Oh, no! That wouldn't do at all, Sir Bishop!” The gnome looked horrified. “That much whiskey would give her a nasty headache!”
By now, Zhjaeve and Casavir had joined them. The githzerai cleric held a healing potion, and Casavir helped support the Captain while she drank gratefully.
“Let us collect whatever healing potions or kits we have between us,” Casavir said. “We'll decide who to treat first when we've an idea of our resources.”
“Not bad, paladin. Glad to see you're thinking.” Bishop winced as he stood, and reached his left hand out to the Captain. She grasped it and stood beside him.
“We need to make sure it's truly vanquished,” she said, pushing her hair back out of her face.
“The King of Shadows is gone, for good this time.” Ammon Jerro looked up from where he knelt by Elanee, examining her lifeless body.
“Ammon is correct. He is no more,” Zhjaeve confirmed.
“We're not out of the woods yet,” Neeshka said grimly. “Hey, Stumpy, do you feel it too?”
“Aye, fiendling. This place is about ready to come down around our ears.” Khelgar looked around. “We need to find a better place to stand, that's for sure.”
Sand dusted himself off, frowning. “I hate to agree, but Khelgar is right. We do not stand a chance of making it back to Aldanon's portal, assuming it is still standing, in the shape we are all in. I do have a few potions of healing left, but not enough for everyone. And do we leave Elanee? I am a wizard. We do not resurrect the dead as much as merely reanimate them, but I feel quite obliged to do something, since she died defending me.”
“Well, why didn't you say so?” Grobnar said. “Captain, you gave me that rod that Lord Nasher gave you, so you could resurrect anyone who needed it when you were fighting on the wall. I only used it once, on Sir Casavir, so I'm sure there are some charges left.” He dug enthusiastically in his pack again. “I'm sure it's here somewhere.”
Zhjaeve leaned over and tugged it free from his belt.
“Know that I will attend to Elanee. The rest of you should find a more sheltered spot, and we will join you.”
Casavir turned to Bishop. “You have had more opportunity to explore this place than any of us. Is there an alcove or chamber that might be better able to withstand collapse?”
“I think so,” Bishop answered. “There's a room off to the side, sort of an antechamber where Garius told me to wait.” He turned to point the way, and hissed as he jarred his right arm.
“Then let us go there, and we'll combine our resources in relative safety. I can attend to your arm there.” Casavir looked at Bishop gravely. “You fought bravely beside us. I owe you my thanks.”
“Don't get all sentimental on me, paladin,” Bishop retorted dryly. “We're not out of here yet. Plenty of time to find a reason to smite me.”
The companions made their way to the antechamber, all except Grobnar. The Construct was unable to move, too heavily damaged by the death throes of the King of Shadows. The gnome was busily tinkering and frowning. He waved them away, absorbed in his repairs.
Once in the antechamber, everyone placed whatever healing supplies they had in a pile.
“There is a rare bit of luck,” Sand drawled. “It seems we will be able to deal with most of the damage we have accumulated, although I do believe my robe is a total loss.” He sighed dramatically, and Bishop was pleased to see the Captain smile slightly. Sand began handing out flasks and kits briskly.
Bishop growled as he felt the healing magic begin to knit his shattered arm. He flexed his fingers a few times, and grinned wolfishly. Around him, there were similar expressions of relief.
“Well, we've got a better chance of getting to Aldanon's escape route now,” Bishop said. “Still, it's going to be rough, especially if this place starts to crumble. I found a few shortcuts, but we're going to have to watch every step, and right now we're all too exhausted to do that.”
“Do we dare risk resting?” She frowned slightly.
“I think, my lady, we risk more by not resting,” Casavir said slowly. “If we rest, we can recover spells and pray for healing, and as Bishop pointed out, we'd be more alert to any pitfalls.” He nodded to the ranger, who merely chuckled. “How long has it been since you rested, my lady?”
She raised her hands in surrender. “The many blows to my head have definitely addled me, because I do believe Casavir and Bishop are in agreement. We rest, then, my friends, and afterward we make our way to safety.”
The sound of metal grinding against stone made her look up abruptly.
“Oh, no, no, NO!” shouted Grobnar, his voice shrill with panic. “Construct, not that column!”
Bishop darted to the door, in time to see the Construct trying to pull itself erect. As it struggled for balance, it was using one of the central columns for support, a column that was already severely fractured. Looking up, he spat a fast curse. The column ended at a part of the vast dome, marked by a fissure that was widening visibly as the Construct fought to stand.
The Construct managed to rise to its full height, and Grobnar tugged at it. “There's a good Construct. Let's just go this way to Sir Bishop now, and we'll work out those nasty kinks back home at the Keep, won't we?” It turned to follow the gnome, its bladed arm slamming into the column and shattering it. The upper portion fell, and as Bishop stared in mute horror, Grobnar flung himself on the Construct just as the massive column fell across them both. Without the column's support, the ceiling began to collapse. Clouds of dust and powdered stone rolled into the antechamber, choking off breath and vision.
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Judas