by Lisa Smedman
"Right," Leliana said. "Let's begin."
They sang, each keeping her attention focused inward, on the energy they were summoning into themselves and channeling to the center of their circle, where Q'arlynd and Eldrinn stood. On the song's second verse, a glimmer of moonlight blossomed around each priestess. Slowly, the circles of light expanded into the center of the circle. Each left a patch of shadow in its wake: shadow that obscured the glow of the Faerzress.
"It's working!" Eldrinn cried. "I can feel it!"
Q'arlynd grasped the boy's wrist. He raised his free hand; it hovered just over Leliana's shoulder. She felt the positive energy fill her, a sense of warmth and well-being as soothing as a soft hymn. She nodded at Q'arlynd: the signal. He snapped out an incantation and slapped his hand down on her shoulder.
Her stomach did a flipflop as the floor lurched sideways under her feet. Suddenly, she was standing with the others next to a building that loomed darkly beside them. The temple atop the Acropolis! Startled Crones whirled to face them, shrieking in anger. The Protectors' swords replied with a gleeful peal.
Just as Q'arlynd had instructed them, the Protectors held the final note of their song a moment longer. Q'arlynd's hand lifted from Leliana's shoulder. His eyes met hers, and his expression seemed strangely apologetic. Then he and Eldrinn disappeared.
Leliana blinked in surprise. Had something gone wrong with his spell?
"Cowards!" Gilkriz shouted at the empty space within their circle.
The Crones surged forward, hands raised. Fell magic crackled from their fingertips. At Leliana's shouted order the Protectors whirled to face outward, raised swords pealing as the priestesses cried out their battle hymns. Then the Crones were upon them.
As the Protectors fought with song and sword, Brindell slipped between the combatants and ran toward the temple, her sling whirling. She must have spotted something within the building. A moment later, a monstrous figure, twice the height of a drow and with spider legs protruding from her chest, burst from the doorway.
"Halisstra?" Leliana gasped. "But how…?"
Brindell hurled her stone. It struck Halisstra's chest dead center, between the scrabbling spider legs. Halisstra skidded to a halt and shouted something, but her voice was swallowed by the silence that clung to her.
A hand raked Leliana's side, tearing open an bloody wound-a Crone, taking advantage of the distraction. Leliana slashed, her sword severing the Crone's arm. The Crone reeled away, howling.
Leliana chanced another glance and felt the blood drain from her face. A ghostly form had risen out of solid stone directly behind Brindell-the translucent image of a Crone. The spirit they'd been warned about! The halfling had her back to the thing; she'd never see it in time.
Leliana dodged between two Crones and rushed the spirit, singing a battle prayer that made her sword shimmer. But even as her weapon swept down, the spirit threw back her head and wailed.
The sound stabbed into Leliana like an icy finger, breaking her stride. Her sword connected with something-a glancing blow, struck a heartbeat too late. Leliana staggered past the spirit, her heart fluttering in her chest. All around her, she saw her companions turn an ashen gray as they sagged to the ground. Leliana and Tash'kla remained on their feet, but only barely. Tash'kla was bent over nearly double, arms clutching her chest, her sword limp in her hand.
The spirit gave a ghostly, laugh. "Finish them," she whispered.
The Crones closed in.
*****
Cavatina stared at the spiderlike figure up ahead. Large as an ox, it stood at the end of the thread-thin path of moonlight she'd been following. She'd seen its kind before: retrievers often ventured into the prime material plane to hunt down those who had drawn the ire of a demon lord. She wasn't surprised to find one guarding the portal.
What was surprising was that the retriever hadn't moved. She'd observed it for some time, and it hadn't so much as shifted a leg. It stood, rigid as a statue. It might have been poised there for a day, or for a millennium, waiting for someone to approach the portal.
Cavatina took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. The battle with Wendonai had left her drained. She was naked, armed only with her singing sword. She would have to be careful.
She approached the retriever warily, sword in hand. The portal was a hole in the ground a pace or two from it, a round pucker in the hard, cracked soil. Next to this opening lay a huddled body. As she drew nearer, she recognized him by his robe: Daffir, the human diviner.
Even from several paces away, she could see that the human was dead. Fire had burned away his hair and crisped much of his scalp, revealing charred bone. The lenses that once hovered in front of his eyes lay on the ground nearby. His robe was a shredded mess, soaked with blood. He lay with one arm thrust stiffly forward, the fingers of that hand curled tight around a small silver disk. Sunlight glinted from it.
Cavatina crept closer. The retriever remained motionless.
She stepped around Daffir's body, close enough to have touched the demon. She leaned forward and prodded one of its legs with the point of her sword.
The blade clinked against solid stone.
She glanced back at Daffir. "So you managed to turn one of its rays back at it, did you?" She raised her sword in salute to the dead male. "Well done." She sang a prayer, asking Eilistraee to claim Daffir's soul, should it not already be spoken for by some other deity.
Her feet were sore from her long walk across the hard, salty plain and she was tired of having to constantly carry her sword. Daffir had boots and belt. She took both. She hacked off the bottom of the leather sheath that held his dagger, modifying it to accommodate her sword. Then she cinched the belt around her waist. The wizard's clothes were a ruined, bloody mess, so she left them on his body. She picked up his eye lenses and mirror and tied them into a piece of cloth, then knotted this around his wrist. If the priestesses back at the Promenade succeeded in reviving Daffir, he would need them.
These preparations made, she seized Daffir by the ankles and dragged him over to the portal. Rolling him into it wouldn't be a very dignified way to get him back, but she couldn't very well carry him. If there were hostile creatures on the other side of the portal, she'd need both hands free to fight.
With a grunt, she rolled Daffir into the hole.
His body vanished.
Cavatina drew her sword and held it in both hands. "Watch over me, Eilistraee," she whispered. "Guide my steps."
She leaped into the portal.
"Down" was suddenly behind her. She landed flat on her back on a cold stone floor, knocking the wind from her lungs. She scrambled to her feet and whirled, her sword humming a deadly warning. She was in a room, next to a quicksilver pool-a room dominated by a goat-headed statue twice her height.
A statue of the demon prince Orcus.
"Eilistraee!" she cried. "Shield me!"
Moonlight streaked with shadow erupted from her skin, washing out the fainter light of the Faerzress-impregnated walls, ceiling and floor.
The statue didn't move. It was, it would seem, mere stone. But appearances could be deceiving.
She stood directly in front of an arch that led into darkness, and a second arch stood on the other side of the statue. Across the room was a slab of studded iron that looked like a door. She backed away from the statue, half turned to the door, and searched for a handle with one hand.
There wasn't one.
"Looks like there's only one way out of here," she whispered, speaking to Daffir's corpse as much as to herself. "That other portal. I just wish you were still alive to tell me where it leads."
She dragged his body in front of the second arch. She lay her sword on the floor, tucked her hands under his body, and started to roll him into the portal. Before she could finish, she felt something tug on Daffir. Alarmed, she yanked the body back-hard enough to reveal hands clutching Daffir's robe. Each of the dark fingers was adorned with a silver ring.
A Crone!
&
nbsp; Cavatina snatched up her sword. As the silver-ringed hands yanked Daffir back through the portal, she thrust through it, aiming for the spot where the Crone would be. The sweet peal of her sword was muffled as it passed into what lay beyond. She felt the weapon strike home. She yanked it back; the blade was bright with blood.
"Eilistraee!" she cried.
Sword singing, she charged into the portal.
*****
Q'arlynd landed on a stone floor with an ankle-jolting thud. Thick, hot smoke surrounded him, blown by a roaring wind. Beside him, Eldrinn staggered sideways, his hand tearing out of Q'arlynd's grasp. Q'arlynd heard the clatter of the staff falling and rolling away. He could see nothing, however. The smoke was too thick, and it stabbed into his throat and lungs each time he breathed. Tears streamed from his eyes.
"Eldrinn!" he coughed. "The staff!"
He heard more rattling.
"Got it," the boy wheezed back.
Through the smoke, Q'arlynd saw a blue-green glow that shone brightly from the floor and walls. Faerzress? Worry flooded him. Had he landed off target? Or had the Faerzress there simply grown that strong?
"Someone's in the corridor," a husky female voice cried from somewhere to Q'arlynd's left. "Inside the smoke!"
"Alexa?" Eldrinn shouted back. "Is that you?"
"It's Eldrinn! He's back!"
More voices were talking, but not loud enough for Q'arlynd to make out the words.
"And Q'arlynd-I'm here, too!" he shouted. He didn't want anyone blasting him with a spell. When no one did, he let out a sigh of relief-which quickly turned into a rattling cough.
Eldrinn bumped into him from behind, and Q'arlynd grabbed the boy's piwafwi. Dragging Eldrinn in his wake, he fought his way toward the voices, forcing himself sideways through the howling wind.
They were out of the smoke. Kraanfhaor's Door was just ahead, and so were Alexa, Baltak, Piri, and Zarifar. Q'arlynd's teleport had been precisely on target, after all.
"What in the Nine Hells…" he coughed, "… are you apprentices…" he coughed again, "… doing?"
Piri crouched, holding a rod that extended into a hole he was busy burning in the stone beside the door. Heat waves danced above the rod. But for his demon-skinned hands, Piri's skin would have blistered away. Smoke billowed past him, out of the blackened hole.
Zarifar stood next to him, twiddling his index fingers, directing the smoke away down the corridor Q'arlynd had just teleported to. He stared dreamily at the fierce horizontal tornados his spell had turned the smoke into.
Baltak and Alexa stood next to a pile of gear. Bedrolls had been spread out on the floor. Alexa hurried forward to help Eldrinn, who'd doubled over in a coughing fit. Baltak remained where he was, hands on his hips. He'd abandoned his owlbear accoutrements for something new. His muscular body bore a layer of coin-sized, ice-white scales. The dragons carved into the door's surface had probably inspired his latest shapeshift.
"About time you two got back," he bellowed, his voice reverberating in his chest. "We're almost through."
"Let's see if you're right." Piri eased the rod out of the hole, hand over hand. Metal scraped against stone. A spent stonefire bomb pot was attached to the end of the rod, and the metal just below it was white-hot. The light of it lent a garish sheen to Piri's oily, green-tinted skin.
"How was Sschindylryn?" Alexa asked.
Eldrinn straightened. "Huh?"
"Knee-deep in travelers, as usual," Q'arlynd quickly answered.
"And the trade mission?" Baltak asked.
"It's drawing to a successful conclusion, even as we speak," Q'arlynd said, catching Eldrinn's eye.
"That's right," Eldrinn said. "Successful. No need for us there, any more. The negotiations were going so well we were able to leave early."
Q'arlynd hid his wince behind a nod and a smile. The boy's fumbling words sounded suspicious. But at least Eldrinn had stopped protesting. The boy had taken some convincing, but he'd eventually come around to Q'arlynd's way of thinking.
Neither of them, Q'arlynd had explained to Eldrinn before they'd teleported, knew a spell that would channel positive energy. They would be unable to help destroy the voidstone. Once Q'arlynd teleported the priestesses to the Acropolis, their part in the expedition would be at an end.
In the meantime, there was Kraanfhaor's Door to worry about. The staff had to be used before the Faerzress grew so intense that it blocked divinations altogether. Had Q'arlynd and Eldrinn remained at the Acropolis and waited for the priestesses to finish their work, it might have been days before they could return to Kraanfhaor's Door. By then, it might have been too late.
Thanks to Q'arlynd's teleport, the priestesses had sprung a surprise attack on the Acropolis. Even then, those singing swords of theirs would be making short work of the Crones. And Leliana and her priestesses would deal with the voidstone. All according to plan.
Q'arlynd had no reason to feel guilty.
None at all.
Piri let the rod clatter to the floor and waved his hands back and forth, cooling them. He could feel heat, even if it didn't harm him. "I hear Sschindylryn is having problems with their Faerzress." He nodded at the walls. "It's getting worse here, too."
Q'arlynd gave a noncommittal grunt and walked over to the door. Smoke curled from the hole beside it, though not in the dark billows it had before. Zarifar was still playing with the wind he'd conjured up, so it was hard to hear what anyone said above its roaring.
Q'arlynd caught his arm. "Stop that."
Zarifar lowered his hands and blinked. "Oh, hello, Q'arlynd. Where did you come from?"
Q'arlynd crouched and peered into the hole. Though the stonefire bomb had blackened and melted the stone next to it, the door itself was unblemished. Not so much as a streak of soot marked it. The hole was about ten paces deep, the length of the rod Piri had just hauled out of it. Kraanfhaor's Door, Q'arlynd saw, was just as thick.
He touched the front of the door. The stone under his fingers was cooler by far than the hot air that filled the corridor.
Q'arlynd nodded down at the stonefire bomb. "That isn't going to work."
"That's what I told them," Baltak boomed.
"We've proved one thing, at least," Piri said. "The stone that makes up that door exists in some sort of extradimensional space. Each time the stonefire started to reveal the far side of the door, it extended farther."
Alexa picked up a wooden tray and began sorting through the glass vials it held. "I tried several different acids on the door itself, but none made even the slightest mark."
"Frost won't crack it, either," Baltak boomed. He slapped a hand against the door. His fingers ended in claws, clear and glistening as ice. They scritched against the door as he drew them across it. "The stone can't even be scratched."
"There are patterns," Zarifar said. "I tried to identify them, but I can't quite…" His fingers traced lines in the air. "They seem so familiar, and yet…" he shrugged and let his hand fall, "they elude me."
"Excellent!" Q'arlynd announced.
The others stared at him blankly.
"Listen to you-you're working together. Well done."
His students glanced sidelong at one another when he said that-wary that he'd been talking between the lines. Had they let down their guard, shown some vulnerability, done something wrong?
Q'arlynd chuckled. "Well done," he repeated. "And I mean just what I say."
It was the truth. Leaving his apprentices on their own had been the best move he could have made. Had he remained there, he would have directed their experiments, led them along by the nose like rothe. Instead they'd tried to come up with solutions on their own. Fruitless attempts, but attempts just the same. Their initial decision to work together might have been motivated by a desire to keep an eye on each other, but that didn't matter. They'd become a team.
And since Q'arlynd knew how to open the door, they'd reap the rewards.
The anticipation nearly made Q'arlynd giddy.
He realized he was smiling. He set his face in a more serious expression. A smile could be an unnerving thing, to a drow. It usually preceded some sort of painful punishment.
"Eldrinn," Q'arlynd said, "your staff. It's time to open this door."
"You really think the staff is the solution?"
"We'll know that soon enough."
"I can't believe it!" Baltak shouted. "Q'arlynd knew how to open it, all along."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Piri asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
"It was a test," Q'arlynd answered, "of your willingness to work together. You passed."
He took the staff from Eldrinn. As the others crowded around, he closed his eyes. It took a moment to block out the rustles of their clothing, and their rapid, anxious breaths, but soon he achieved full concentration. He drew the staff toward himself and touched his forehead to the crystal at the center of it, just as Daffir had done.
"Show me the past," he whispered. "Show me how the Miyeritari opened this door."
Despite Q'arlynd's concentration, he heard Alexa's surprised murmur, "It can do that?"
Q'arlynd waited several moments, but nothing happened. No visions popped into his mind, no voices whispered in his ear. He tried for several moments more, with his eyes open. Nothing.
Heat prickled his cheeks. Daffir had never uttered a word when using the staff, but perhaps there was some silent mental command that was required. Eldrinn had assured Q'arlynd there wasn't, but knowledge of the command may have been stripped from the boy's mind by the feeblewit spell.
Q'arlynd felt a mind tickle his-probably Baltak. Q'arlynd pushed whoever it was out. "Don't distract me," he growled. "I'll show you how it's done in just a moment."
He decided to test the staff. Silently, he implored it to show him a vision, from just a short time ago, of the arrival of himself and Eldrinn. A vision instantly coalesced in his mind: the pair of them, stumbling out of a thick pall of smoke. Elated, Q'arlynd banished that vision and concentrated harder, trying to force his mind back to the distant past. Centuries ago. Millennia. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a brown-skinned elf, standing in front of the door, hand raised. Then the Faerzress crackled across the vision, obscuring it in a blaze of blue-green light.