by Sarah Hawke
They took a quick trip down to the bathing pools, and the attendants brought them soap, towels, and a fresh tray of fruit. Selvhara still seemed a little mesmerized by everything, but once they were in the water she retracted her magical druidic armor and slipped into the pool alongside them. Her ageless elven figure was every bit as tantalizing as the first night they had met, and when she relaxed in the water she always seemed to keep her perky, youthful breasts just above the surface where he could see them…
“Everyone who was willing to speak with me relayed mostly the same story,” Selvhara said once they had settled. “Your suspicions about the collapse of Highwind’s institutions seem correct. There is an ongoing scramble for power, and few people believe the city can endure a siege for long.”
“Disappointing but not surprising,” Jorem murmured. “Did you learn anything specific about who is actually in charge?”
“The people here believe that the Black Mistress is advocating on their behalf, and they anticipate an arrangement that will allow them to live on the surface in exchange for their aid against the Inquisitrix. But other than that, no one had any specific details.”
“Still, it suggests that Solemi isn’t calling the shots yet,” Valuri said after she dunked and shook her black hair. “Someone important must be opposing her.”
Jorem nodded idly. “Anything else?”
“No one mentioned anything about any of you,” Selvhara said. “I do not believe we are in any particular danger, though the people here do strike me as almost fanatically loyal to their mistress. Some view her as a savior figure who will finally allow them to return to the city and avenge the perceived injustices committed against them. They are eager to fight the Inquisitrix, largely due to her hostility towards magic, but many of them see Highwind’s leadership as a far more pressing threat.”
“A power-hungry leader with cultish followers…that’s definitely not dangerous at all,” Valuri muttered. “It sounds like Vorsalos a few decades ago.”
Jorem nodded grimly. “It’s all pretty much what we expected, though. And it’s all the more reason why we need to reach out to General Serrane as quickly as possible.”
“Once you have mastered the secrets of draconic ascension, you will be able to defeat the Conduit with or without anyone’s assistance,” Selvhara told him. “We should remain focused on unlocking your ancestral memories.”
Jorem glanced around just to make certain no one was close enough to overhear them. The bubbling water masked their voices pretty well, but he still didn’t want to take any chances…
“No one asked you for advice, wolf girl,” Valuri said. “You don’t get to tell us what to do.”
Selvhara leaned back against the side of the pool. “I am sorry, I merely wished to help.”
“Don’t worry, you never need to apologize for Val being a bitch,” Jorem said. “Evidently they never taught her manners or basic social graces at the Castarium.”
“The point stands,” Valuri said. “She doesn’t get to boss us around just because she has a nice body and perky tits.”
“I would never presume to give orders to a sorcerer,” Selvhara said. “Especially one with dragon blood.”
The Huntress rolled her eyes so hard she fell over and sunk beneath the water. Jorem snickered and splashed her in the face the instant she popped back up.
“The reason I brought it up,” Selvhara went on, “is that the Black Mistress’s dark elf attendant relayed an unusual message to me while I was out on the streets.”
“Varassa?” Jorem asked, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly tingling. “You spoke with her alone?”
“She sought me out. At first she only seemed interested in expressing her displeasure at my heritage—your dark elves really do seem to despise those born on the surface.”
“The hatred goes both ways, believe me. But what else did she say?”
“She mentioned that her mistress had recently discovered a way to open a drow city that was abandoned several years ago,” Selvhara said. “She called it ‘Vel’shannar,’ and she claims it is not far from here.”
Jorem turned and shared a suspicious glance with Valuri. “A few years ago we heard rumors about a great drow civil war,” he said. “Allegedly, the city was completely destroyed. Groups across the Northern Reaches were desperate to take credit.”
“Evidently the city endures,” Selvhara said. “Varassa implied that the drow left behind a great repository of magical arms…and knowledge.”
Valuri’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why in the bloody hell would she tell this to you of all people?”
“She recognized that I was a druid. The Sarodihm are the keepers of the Old Ways…she likely assumed that I would be particularly interested in preventing dangerous knowledge from falling into the wrong hands.”
“That’s still damn suspicious,” Jorem murmured. “She’s barely spoken a dozen words to us, and we’ve been down here several times over the past few months.”
“I am not certain what to make of her motives,” Selvhara admitted. “But if she is telling the truth, the Black Mistress is already attempting to salvage the city and reclaim its power.”
“Uh…that’s not good,” Valuri said.
“Definitely not,” Jorem agreed gravely. “Did Varassa say what’s actually in the city?”
Selvhara shook her head. “Not specifically. She seemed hesitant to provide many details, as if she were afraid that someone might overhear.” The druid reached up to her herb pouch on the side of the pool and withdrew a small silver pendant shaped like a spider. “She gave me this…and she said that if I presented it to her allies, they would know what to do.”
The tingle in the back of Jorem’s neck transformed into a full-blown shudder. “That’s a drow holy symbol,” he murmured. “An icon of the Spider Queen.”
“Yes,” Selvhara confirmed. “I am not certain what to make of it, but she strongly implied that not everyone here in Darkwind serves the Black Mistress by choice.”
Jorem shared a concerned look with the other girls. As if the situation weren’t already bad enough with the armies of Vorsalos threatening to conquer the whole damn region…
“As I said, I don’t know what to make of this woman’s motives,” Selvhara went on, “but if Vel’shannar is intact its archives could possess a great deal of useful knowledge. The original Vaetharri elves who settled here in Torsia were powerful channelers who fully embraced sorcery. They were also fastidious record-keepers, and I would not be surprised if their archives contain information on draconic ascension.”
“Bloody hell, that’s what you’re concerned about?” Valuri asked.
“It is the reason I am here,” Selvhara replied matter-of-factly. “When the Vaetharri first separated from Avethian Empire, they were every bit as obsessed with dragon magic as their Avetharri cousins. I do not know when they started worshipping this ‘Spider Queen,’ but their histories could still be invaluable.”
Jorem frowned. “Sorcery is far more prevalent in Varellon, right? What could the drow possibly know about dragon magic that Vin Aetheri like you don’t?”
Selvhara shrugged. “A great deal of knowledge was lost during the Dragon War, and our understanding of Avetharri channeling traditions is far from complete. It would be a shame to let an opportunity like this go to waste.”
Valuri snorted. “Highwind is under siege, and you want to waste time combing through books?”
Selvhara shrugged. “I want to help Jorem with—”
“Someone is coming,” Kaseya warned, nodding with her chin towards the cavernous chamber. “They have guards.”
“A half-orc and several humans,” Selvhara confirmed, “along with someone who is wearing perfume.”
Jorem glanced back at his clothes outside the pool. As nice as it would have been to get dressed, there was obviously no point in that now. Not that it really mattered—their hostess had seen them naked plenty of times before.
A tall, brutish-looking half
-orc rounded the corner a moment later, and several other armed and armored men took up positions nearby. They kept a respectable distance, thankfully, though that didn’t stop the girls from tensing up. Valuri looked like she was just about ready to vault out of the water and grab her crossbow when a beautiful, scantily clad half-elf woman finally appeared.
“It is good to see you all again,” the woman said, a bright and cheerful smile on her lips. “Thank the gods you made it home safely.”
The Black Mistress was every bit as elegant and gorgeous as Jorem remembered. Her shoulder-length hair was about three-quarters silver and one-quarter blonde, and her green eyes were as bright and piercing as Valuri’s. Her figure was a stunning testament to her mixed heritage: she had the willowy frame and limbs of an elf with the plump, perky breasts of a human. Her black silken bra and panties were barely concealed beneath her shimmering diaphanous robe, and the stiletto heels of her thigh-high boots were so long it was astonishing she could even walk straight.
“I apologize for not having the chance to greet you sooner,” Solemi went on. “As you can imagine, the current situation in Highwind is chaotic, to say the least.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re doing everything in your power to stabilize the situation,” Valuri replied, not bothering to hide her obvious scorn.
“Yes, I am,” Solemi replied evenly. “The city is in desperate need of aid, and my people are eager to help.”
Kaseya glanced off towards the Darkwind army even though they couldn’t actually see it from here. “Then why aren’t your men on the battlements?”
“They will be, once the Council ensures their fair and equitable treatment. It’s probably difficult to understand since none of you were born here, but my people have many, many reasons to distrust Highwind and its leadership. Until those concerns are properly addressed, I cannot ask them to put their lives on the line for a city that hates and fears them.”
“That would almost sound reasonable if not for the fact that Darkwind will be next on the chopping block,” Valuri said. “Trust me, the Inquisitrix will not allow a rogue sorceress to flourish right beneath her feet. She’ll dispatch a dozen Huntresses to flush you out if she has to.”
Solemi smiled again. At a glance it was pleasant enough, but Jorem could see the veiled malice behind the woman’s eyes. “I understand the nuances of the situation,” she said coolly. “And I trust that the Council will do the right thing sooner rather than later.”
The anxious tension in the air became so thick Jorem could almost taste it. He should have stuffed Valuri in the closet if he had wanted to keep this diplomatic.
“We all hope so,” Jorem said, hoping she couldn’t sense his tension. “Once again, we appreciate your hospitality. I doubt we could have gotten into the city without your tunnels.”
Solemi held her eyes on Valuri for another second before she turned to Jorem. “You and your allies are always welcome here in Darkwind,” she told him. “And speaking of, I don’t believe I met your new friend here…”
“This is Selvhara,” Jorem said, gesturing at the druid. “She helped us escape the chaos in Ostvara and Riverbend.”
The druid lowered her head and curtseyed. “It is an honor to meet you.”
“Elu shala, desh'iriai,” Solemi said. “You are a long way from home.”
Selvhara’s cheek twitched. “I-I am, yes.”
“Travelers from Varellon are rare in Highwind these days. What brings you to these shores?”
Jorem glanced between the two women, wondering how in the bloody hell Solemi knew that Selvhara came from overseas rather than Nelu’Thalas. Perhaps her spy network was even more extensive than he realized…
“Portents of this crisis have echoed across the world,” Selvhara said. “I came here to aid your people in any way I could.”
“Of course,” Solemi said, her eyes glimmering far too knowingly for Jorem’s tastes. “Well, I was hoping you might be able to tell me what you learned on Nol Krovos. Dark rumors have spread like wildfire, and the people are terrified. Many are convinced that the gods themselves are punishing us somehow.”
“The short version is that the Inquisitrix destroyed the magical fount beneath the island,” Jorem explained before anyone else could pipe in. “This ‘Shattering’ seems to have collapsed the Three Corridors, and she is convinced that she is now the only source of true power in the region. We’ve encountered several channelers who are drawing their power directly from her. They call her ‘The Conduit.’”
Solemi pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. Jorem couldn’t read her face well enough to discern if she already knew this, but he wanted to be cautious about what they told her. She didn’t need to know the full story—and she definitely didn’t need to know anything about Selvhara’s true purpose or his dragon blood.
“So it is true, then,” Solemi whispered. “The Corridors are gone.”
“And as far as we can tell, they’re never coming back,” Jorem said. “Among other things, it means that the Inquisitrix and her forces now have a decisive advantage. These channelers of hers are quite powerful, and we have no idea how many she has empowered by now.”
“All the more reason why Highwind will need your armies to survive,” Kaseya added.
“From what we have already seen, a few more men on the walls will not be enough,” Solemi replied. “I’ve no doubt you saw the many wyvern riders in the sky on the way here.”
“You could say that,” Jorem murmured.
“Highwind hasn’t needed to repel an aerial force that size for generations, and I’m afraid the Duskwatch Rangers are no longer up to the challenge. A few hundred soldiers with bows will barely slow those beasts down.”
Jorem swallowed anxiously. “What happened to the Duskwatch? Is the Ranger-General still alive?”
“Yes, thankfully,” Solemi said. “General Serrane returned to the city a few days after the Shattering. She and a Knight of the Silver Fist were captured by a Senosi Huntress in the hills, and they learned a great deal about the Inquisitrix and her plans.”
“They escaped from a Huntress?” Valuri asked. “I knew I liked her.”
“She claims it was merely good fortune, but I believe she had help.” Solemi paused for a minute and seemed to consider something. “My sources in the Silver Fist inform me that General Serrane also rescued an Eternal Priestess.”
Jorem frowned. “One of those crazy cultists from the mountains?”
“Yes. Normally the good general wouldn’t waste her time with something so trivial, but I have reason to believe that this priestess may have powers similar to those of the Inquisitrix.”
Jorem turned and shared a confused glance with the girls. Kaseya and Valuri mostly looked confused, but Selvhara inhaled sharply like she had just spotted a ghost.
“What do you mean?” the druid asked.
Solemi’s eyes flicked between the four of them. “I am not yet certain, but this priestess may be able to empower channelers of her own. There are those among the Silver Fist who now see her as their salvation.”
“Another Conduit…” Selvhara breathed.
Jorem stared at her for a long moment, wondering if she might elaborate. But from the way her eyes were flicking back and forth she was obviously trying to sort out a hundred questions of her own.
“If that’s true, it could change everything,” Valuri said. “How sure are you about this?”
“Not at all—yet,” Solemi replied. “My people are investigating, however, and I hope we will learn the truth soon.”
Jorem nodded absently. If what Selvhara had told them about the Fount was true, then Inquisitrix Marcella had acquired her new abilities from absorbing the essence of an imprisoned god—a so-called “Godsoul.” He didn’t understand how anyone else could possibly have this power, especially an Eternal Priestess. He had only heard wild rumors about their religion, all of which involved orgies and fertility rituals that seemed too absurd to be true.
Judging fr
om her reaction, Selvhara clearly knew something the rest of them didn’t, but Jorem didn’t want to ask her in front of Solemi. Hopefully the druid just stayed quiet for a while…
“In any event, I’m sure we can all agree that we can’t afford to wait for miracles to save us,” Solemi said after a moment. “Ranger-General Serrane has been attempting to convince the rest of the Council to go on the offensive and slow the enemy’s advance, but they are hesitant to risk men and supplies when the city is under siege.”
“I doubt that a small force could accomplish much anyway,” Jorem said. “We saw what the Inquisitrix unleashed on Ostvara. Between the fleet and the wyverns, the city didn’t stand a chance.”
“There may be a way to delay both, at least for a while,” Solemi said. “Ever since the attack on Icewatch, my operatives in Vorsalos have been searching for any and all information on the enemy’s wyverns. Yesterday, I finally received news: the Inquisitrix has a secret outpost where she is breeding these creatures in great number.”
Kaseya practically vaulted out of the water. “Where?”
“High enough in the Shattered Peaks that the location is nearly impassable on foot,” Solemi said. “An army could never reach it, but a handful of experienced climbers—especially ones with magic—might have a chance.”
“Oh, gods,” Valuri muttered. “We are not going back into the bloody mountains, not after what happened in the north.”
“I have not shared this intelligence with General Serrane yet—I feared that she would act upon it whether the Council approved a mission or not,” Solemi told them. “She is a brave and powerful woman, but most of her rangers have been crippled by the Shattering.”
“In other words, she could use some help,” Jorem said, biting down on his lip. He had no particular interest in climbing more mountains either, not after their experiences with the Roskarim and Zalheer, but they had already been planning on meeting with Serrane anyway. And if there was even an outside chance they could neutralize the Inquisitrix’s wyvern riders…
“Why are you telling us this?” Valuri asked, her eyes narrowed skeptically.