Storm of the Dead зкp-2

by Lisa Smedman

  "Of course. That was a clever ruse you pulled."

  She didn't look angry, so Q'arlynd did his best to recover. "Qilue… told you about… that?"

  Leliana smiled. "She also swore me to secrecy. But now that we're alone…" She glanced back the way they'd just come. "I can thank you. For saving Rowaan."

  To Q'arlynd's utter surprise, she stepped forward and clasped his arms. She was strong; her hands pinched as they squeezed. Then she stepped abruptly back, as if embarrassed by the show of emotion. That figured; she'd been raised in the Underdark, after all.

  "I'm surprised Qilue confided in you," Q'arlynd said, relaxing at last. "But I welcome the opportunity to boast. That switch I pulled was rather clever, wasn't it?"

  Leliana's eyes glittered. "How did you ever trick them into reversing the spell? They were Nightshadows-didn't they see it coming?"

  "Apparently not," said Q'arlynd. Nor had he seen this coming.

  "I still can't quite believe they're part of our faith now, that they chose redemption," Leliana continued. "I thought them too steeped in lies and deceit to stick with it. But some did, amazingly enough." She paused. "I'm glad to see you still serve Eilistraee, as well."

  "Of course." Q'arlynd waved a hand. "That's why I'm here." It was a conversation he didn't want to get any deeper into than he had to. "But you haven't answered my question. How is Rowaan?"

  Leliana smiled. "She's well. After I was promoted to the ranks of the Protectors, she took charge of the Misty Forest shrine." Her voice deepened with pride. "There were other, more senior priestesses who could have been named its head priestess, but Qilue chose Rowaan."

  Of course she did, Q'arlynd thought. The appointment would have ensured that Rowaan kept her mouth shut about what had really happened, that night in the dark-stone cavern.

  He realized why Cavatina had failed to point him out during the briefing at the Promenade. She didn't want to run the risk of him contradicting the official version of what had happened. She wanted her priestesses to believe that Eilistraee was stronger than Vhaeraun-that she had defeated the Masked Lord on his home turf.

  Q'arlynd wondered how closely held the true story was. Qilue knew it, of course, and Cavatina-as well as the priestesses whose souls, together with Rowaan's, had been drawn to Eilistraee when the gate opened. Q'arlynd supposed those priestesses had been bought off, too. And that Valdar, the only Nightshadow to have survived the casting of the gate, had been tracked down and killed to ensure his silence.

  The ranks of Eilistraee's faithful had come to include more than one assassin, after all.

  "We should get moving, if we want to catch up to the others," he reminded Leliana.

  "Yes." She touched a hand to the Faerzress. "Too bad we can't teleport. You'd have us there like that." She started to snap her fingers, then touched the Faerzress again, as if caressing it.

  The gesture disturbed Q'arlynd. He'd felt a similar urge himself. The soft hum of the bluish glow called to him. The Faerzress was beautiful, just like faerie fire, but what he felt went deeper than that. It drew him like…

  He realized he was touching the wall. He jerked his fingers back.

  Leliana's eyes met his. She looked as uneasy as he felt. "You're right," she said. "We should get moving."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Q'arlynd saw a slight motion farther down the tunnel. A patch of wall dimmed and brightened again, as if the Faerzress had momentarily been blocked. Something was slowly creeping away from the spot where Q'arlynd and Leliana stood-something with an outline so blurred it was almost impossible to make out. It was the size and shape of a child.

  We're being watched, Q'arlynd warned. He raised his chin slightly, indicating the tunnel behind Leliana. By a svirfneblin.

  Our guide?

  I'm not sure.

  Leliana turned and spoke aloud. "There's no need to fear us. We're the ones you came to meet. If we'd meant you harm, we'd already have-"

  She suddenly reeled back and groped for the wall. "Mother's blood," she cursed, her voice overly loud. "What did you do that for?"

  Q'arlynd understood at once what had happened. He too knew magic that could render someone blind and deaf. He shouted a word and flicked his fingers, triggering a ripple of energy that radiated from him, dispelling the effect. His spell revealed two svirfneblin standing only a pace or two away. One cradled a strongbox; the second held a hooked hammer in one hand, an egg-sized, blood-red gemstone in the other. The instant this fellow was revealed, he hurled the stone. It thudded into Q'arlynd's chest. Q'arlynd jumped back and tried to raise a hand, but couldn't. His arms felt weak, soft. He watched, horrified, as the skin shriveled on his hands and his fingers curled like dead leaves. He tried to cast a spell, but his fingers wouldn't move. His arms hung limp and lifeless at his sides.

  He felt his eyes widen. Death magic! How in all that was unholy had the svirfneblin gotten hold of that?

  He could think of only one answer.

  Leliana, able to see again thanks to Q'arlynd's dispelling, touched the holy symbol that hung against her chest and sang out a word. The svirfneblin who'd thrown the gemstone froze in place, held fast by her prayer. She whirled and began singing a second prayer-still not drawing her sword.

  "Leliana!" Q'arlynd shouted. "These aren't the-"

  Though he spoke the word "guides," he never heard it. Suddenly blinded and deafened, he stumbled about, desperately trying to cast a spell-one that didn't require gestures, a touch, or the tossing of spell components. That left precious little.

  He felt someone jostle him-Leliana, at last come to her senses and skewering the deep gnomes with her sword? He hoped so. If it weren't for the damned Faerzress, he might have conjured an arcane eye to see what was going on. Instead he did the only thing he could that would put him in the clear. He shouted the word that activated his House insignia, still not hearing his own voice, and felt himself rise.

  A hand yanked him down again. The instant it touched him, he shouted out a spell. Whichever of the deep gnomes had just grabbed him would be blind and deaf, too. That should even the odds a little.

  Suddenly he could see and hear again. Leliana lay on the floor, unconscious or dead from a wound that had bloodied her scalp. Her sword lay nearby. The deep gnome she'd immobilized a moment ago stood over her, his hammer dark with blood. A second deep gnome stood just behind him, glaring at Q'arlynd.

  Q'arlynd tried to draw his ice wand from the sheath on his belt-if his useless hands could just lift it, he might be able to blast the svirfneblin-but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur to his right and behind him: the third svirfneblin moving in. Q'arlynd at last fumbled the wand out of its sheath and turned. He struggled to point it at the blurred gnome.

  The two svirfneblin behind Q'arlynd moved right and left, flanking him. Backing him against a wall. Q'arlynd shifted his arms, trying to menace them with his wand. It fell from his withered hands and clattered to the floor. The svirfneblin who'd felled Leliana raised his hooked hammer, but the blurred gnome raised a hand.

  "Hold," he told them.

  Q'arlynd stared at the blurred gnome but could make out no details. He was like every other svirfneblin Q'arlynd had ever seen: mottled gray skin, bald head, just over half Q'arlynd's height, and wearing clothes the color of stone. Why had he just called off the attack?

  "Flinderspeld? Is that you?"

  The svirfneblin dropped his blur, revealing himself. It wasn't Flinderspeld. He had a wider forehead, one ear that cocked at an odd angle, and his hands were more heavily mottled than those of Q'arlynd's former slave. The deep gnome glanced at his two companions and said something in the svirfneblin tongue. They nodded and visibly relaxed.

  "I not Flinderspeld," he told Q'arlynd, speaking in the pidgin language the races of the Underdark shared. "But I know him."

  "Who are you?"

  "Name's Durth."

  "How do you know Flinderspeld?"

  "Do business with him."
r />   "Gems?" Q'arlynd guessed. Flinderspeld must have reentered the gem business after settling in Silverymoon. Q'arlynd wondered if the gem that had withered his arms had been destined for him. He shook his head, not quite believing the odds against this most unlikely of meetings. It made him wonder if Eilistraee really did watch over him. Or maybe she was just watching over her priestesses, he thought, glancing down at Leliana. Either way, Q'arlynd was thankful for Eilistraee's mercies. He shrugged his arms and nodded down at them for Durth's benefit. "Can you heal these?"

  "No." Durth shrugged. "Maybe priestess can, if she wakes up. But she be mad at you for blinding her, I think."

  The other svirfneblin laughed.

  Q'arlynd silently cursed as he realized it had been Leliana who had yanked him down after he levitated. He added a silent prayer that Leliana would wake up-and not just because he needed healing. To his surprise, he found he actually cared whether she lived or died.

  Durth turned to his companions and motioned for them to get the strongbox, which lay on the floor not far from Leliana. The lid hung from a single hinge and was split nearly in two-probably the result of one of Leliana's sword blows. Inside the box, Q'arlynd could see a fist-sized lump of utter blackness that made his eyes ache whenever he looked directly at it. The thing hovered at the exact center of the strongbox, not touching any of its interior surfaces.

  Q'arlynd had seen something similar years before the fall of Ched Nasad. It had been housed in the Arcane Conservatory in a room with walls several paces thick. Great care had been taken so that, like the object in the strongbox, it touched neither walls, nor ceiling, nor floor: a levitation spell, made permanent and backed up by contingencies.

  One of the svirfneblin picked up the strongbox and tried to force the lid shut. Q'arlynd took an involuntary step back.

  "What?" Durth asked.

  "That's voidstone," Q'arlynd croaked.

  Even without eyebrows, Durth could still frown. "So?"

  Q'arlynd was horrified. The deep gnomes obviously had no idea what they were carrying. "It's a solidified chunk of the negative energy plane," he told them, trying to quiet the inner voice that demanded he run screaming from the deep gnome who so casually held the box. "Anything that touches voidstone is instantly destroyed. If that 'rock' falls out of the box, it won't be pretty."

  The deep gnome holding the strong box looked uncomfortable. He stopped fiddling with the lid.

  Durth glared at his companion. "We not afraid to die," he told Q'arlynd. "Callarduran Smoothhands will-"

  "No he won't," Q'arlynd interrupted. "Voidstone destroys both matter and spirit. If that chunk spills from the box, there won't be any souls left for your god to claim."

  The deep gnome holding the box turned a lighter shade of gray.

  Durth glared at him. "We are paid for the risk."

  "By Flinderspeld?" Q'arlynd asked. His former slave should have had more sense than to handle the stuff. "I hope, for your sake, it's some serious coin he's promised you."

  Durth's smirk confirmed it.

  Q'arlynd nodded at the box. "Is Flinderspeld buying or selling the stuff?"

  Durth's eyes narrowed. "What business is that of yours?"

  "None," Q'arlynd said. "I just… hope he knows what he's dealing with, that's all."

  Durth scratched behind his cocked ear. He glanced down at Leliana. "She mean anything to you?"

  Q'arlynd kept his voice completely neutral. "She is the only one who can heal my arms."

  Durth said something in his own language to the deep gnome who was holding the hooked hammer. The other gnome grunted. Leliana had just been granted a reprieve.

  Durth glanced furtively around and crooked a finger at Q'arlynd, inviting him to bend down to ear level. Q'arlynd did, and the deep gnome whispered in his ear. "When you get close to Acropolis, hang back a little." He raised a hairless eyebrow. "Got it?"

  Q'arlynd did. "The Crones," he whispered back. "You warned them Eilistraee's priestesses were coming."

  Durth nodded. "Drow against drow. Seemed fitting then, but I regret it now. The priestesses don't know we play both sides, right?"

  The other two gnomes shifted restlessly, as if bored with the conversation and ready to move on. The one who wasn't holding the box twirled his hammer back and forth on the cord that bound it to his wrist.

  Q'arlynd suddenly realized what was going on. That last question had been the key-the reason he was still alive. He played dumb by answering it. "That's right."

  "Too bad. But a friend of Flinderspeld…" Durth shrugged.

  Had Q'arlynd been a surface elf, he might have been caught off guard. But Q'arlynd was a drow, born and raised in Ched Nasad. Treachery had been in the very air he breathed. The hammer twirling had been intended as a distraction; Q'arlynd had seen the svirfneblin's other hand slide stealthily into a pocket. When the deep gnome flicked a gemstone at him, Q'arlynd was ready. His cantrip required only the most basic of gestures; the caster had only to point. Q'arlynd flopped one withered arm in Durth's direction, guiding the gemstone to the deep gnome's chest. Durth's eyes widened as it struck him. Then he collapsed.

  Q'arlynd lashed out with a foot. It sank into the throat of the deep gnome who'd just tossed the gemstone. The svirfneblin gasped and staggered backward. Q'arlynd twirled, causing his useless arms to windmill. He shouted out a spell as his left hand slapped the head of the deep gnome holding the box. Suddenly both blind and deaf, the deep gnome jerked in surprise. He backed away and halted. He carefully lowered the strongbox to the floor.

  Q'arlynd, meanwhile, snapped a second kick at the other gnome-one that slammed the little male's skull into the wall, cracking his head against stone. The deep gnome slumped to the floor, unconscious. Meanwhile, the blinded svirfneblin blurred himself. He backed up the tunnel, trying to escape, but Q'arlynd's foot swept out, tripping him. A kick rendered him unconscious, as well.

  Q'arlynd stood, panting. Durth lay on the floor a short distance away, snoring. The second gemstone, Q'arlynd realized, had contained nothing more lethal than a sleep spell. Harmless enough, but Q'arlynd was certain they'd intended to slit his throat the moment he was down.

  He didn't have much time; magical sleep didn't last very long. He fell to his knees beside Leliana to listen to her breathing. It was regular enough, but she showed no signs of regaining consciousness.

  "Leliana," he said, nudging her with his shoulder. "Can you hear me? Leliana, wake up!"

  She didn't stir.

  Q'arlynd stood. The strongbox had been knocked over in the scuffle. Fortunately, the voidstone hadn't spilled out; magic held it in place. Gingerly, he touched his foot to the box and rocked it upright. Then he noticed something. The spot where the box had just lain glowed slightly brighter than the rest of the floor. Curious, he used his foot to ease the box to a different spot and tilted it until the open top was close to the floor. Once again, the Faerzress brightened to an eye-hurting hue.

  He rocked the box upright again. With a thought, he summoned up faerie fire, clothing his body in a sparkling violet radiance. He lowered one of his withered hands to the box-taking great care not to actually touch its contents-and saw the violet glow intensify.

  He straightened and nodded to himself. Qilue had been right about who was behind the augmentation of the Faerzress, as well as the involuntary manifestations of faerie fire by Sshamath's mages. Whatever the Crones were doing with the voidstone that the deep gnomes were supplying was causing both effects.

  He stared down at the strongbox. The chunk of voidstone it held would be the expedition's way in. They could disguise themselves as deep gnomes, carry the voidstone to the Acropolis, and learn what the Crones were up to. Put a stop to it. End the crisis and ensure that the College of Divination would not fall.

  Q'arlynd smiled. "Thanks, Eilistraee," he said, only half-jokingly. He nudged Leliana again with his foot, glancing warily at the prone bodies of the deep gnomes. "Now if I could just ask one more favor of you…"

&
nbsp; Leliana, however, remained unconscious.

  Durth snorted in his sleep and rolled over.

  Q'arlynd grimaced. Then he remembered what Cavatina had told him, during the briefing. Perhaps Qilue would know what to do.

  He whispered her name. A heartbeat later, her voice filled his mind. Q'arlynd? What is it?

  "The svirfneblin," he said aloud. "They betrayed us. They're trading with the Crones. Supplying them with voidstone." Swiftly, he summed up what he'd just learned, capping it with the fact that he and Leliana were alone-and in trouble.

  I will tell the others.

  "They're too far away to get here in time! And these svirfneblin may wake up at any moment. Leliana's unconscious, and my arms are withered. I can't very well drag her away. We need your help. Is there anything you can do?"

  No. But there's something you can do. Pray.

  With that, the communication ended.

  Q'arlynd raged at the high priestess's sudden dismissal, even though it was to be expected. He was expendable. Despite his vital discovery of the voidstone.

  He stared down at Leliana, then at the slumbering and unconscious svirfneblin. The answer was simple, of course. He could just walk away and leave her there. It was the logical thing to do. The only sane thing to do.

  Instead he fell to his knees. Pray, Qilue' had said. He snorted. As if Eilistraee had time to listen to him. But he was willing to give it a try. If it didn't work, he'd go. At least then, if the deep gnomes killed Leliana, it would be Eilistraee's fault.

  He flopped one arm toward the unconscious priestess, moving it until his hand touched her holy symbol. Resting his useless fingers on it, he mumbled a prayer. "Eilistraee, it's uh, Q'arlynd. I pledged myself to you a couple of years ago. I need your help. Leliana needs your help. Heal her."

  Durth stirred again. Still asleep, but starting to wake up.

  Leliana remained unconscious. Q'arlynd's prayer hadn't worked.

  He stood. That was it. He was out of there.

  Leliana's eyes fluttered. "Q'arlynd?" She winced, as if speaking had hurt. One of her hands lifted slightly from the floor, grasping weakly.