The woman bowed. “As you say, Neifion. I can see just by looking at you that you’re nearly back to your old self. You’re in my debt.”
He laughed. As he did, the haze of bats surrounding him screeched in accompaniment. The hound’s ears lay down at the volume.
When his mirth subsided, Neifion said, “Yes. I have nearly regained my full vigor. I am the Lord of Bats once more, in more than just name. All that once was mine is mine again, save for my lesser skin. Which is not far from here—I’ll have that back soon too.”
“Have it back from the warlock Japheth? Is he nearby?”
“Yes … but where is your ally Behroun Marhana? I have a score to settle with him too. He should have been the one to sunder the pact stone the moment he stole it from the warlock, as he swore!”
“Forget about that scrap of mortal flesh. I left him bleeding on your castle floor. When you return home, he’ll be waiting. Rather, let’s speak of Japheth. Where is he?”
The lord of shadow-mantled Darroch Castle smiled. He fastened the full intensity of his gaze upon the eladrin. An envelope of shrieking bats flowed from him to her, instantly surrounding the woman. She was buffeted by dozens of leathery wings.
He said, “If you’ve broken your alliance with Behroun, why do you still care about the warlock’s whereabouts? Why so interested, Malyanna?”
The woman raised a hand. The flapping creatures surrounding her frosted over and scattered away on their last trajectories, clearing the air around her. “Don’t do that again, or you may anger me.”
The Lord of Bats snorted. “Perhaps I’d like to see you angry. It would bring color to your ice white cheeks.”
The shadow hound growled, baring teeth the size of Neifion’s fingers.
He glanced at the canine. His eyes became pools of night. The mastiff’s growl choked off, becoming a whimper. Like a beaten cur, the dark beast sank to its belly and crawled toward the man. Its demeanor was that of a dog hoping for forgiveness but fearing a cuff.
“Do not,” thundered Malyanna, “play with the loyalties of my servitors.”
She snapped her fingers. An unseen force struck Neifion. He spun under the blow, but he did not lose his feet.
Instead, his cape flared outward, transforming into great wings. His limbs lengthened, and his pale skin sprouted ratty fur. The Lord of Bats called back to himself his greater shape of old. Energy raced through his expanded stature. He was a hybrid creature whose leathery wings stretched from one end of the balcony to the other. He shrieked, baring teeth far larger than the hound’s.
He swept one enormous wing down. Its leading edge struck Malyanna’s midsection, and she spun off the balcony, windmilling into the open space beyond the curb. She fell out of sight a moment later without making a single sound of pain or protest.
“Too easy,” he rumbled. His massive head scanned the balcony. He huffed, then took a step back toward the tunnel entrance. He regarded the hound as it retreated, its eyes wary.
The mastiff shook its head violently, as if trying to clear its ears of water. The Lord of Bats nodded and said, “Still ensorcelled—it is only a stupid brute.” He stepped past the canine.
Neifion reached the balcony exit. The trek bell partially blocked the tunnel, making the opening awkward to pass through at his current stature. Well, perhaps he could squeeze—
A cold wind blew on his neck. He turned in time to see an explosion of ice crystals spit an enraged Malyanna onto the balcony.
She reached up to his much larger shape before he was ready and placed her palm on his sternum. Where she touched, winter sprouted.
The Lord of Bats screamed. The pain shocked through him, making him clumsy. His unfurled wings snapped him forward and up, away from the exit and over the eladrin’s head. He twisted in midair so that when he lighted on the balcony’s edge, he faced her. Icicles draped him, and a rime of frost coated his fur.
He pushed through the frigid torpor and called on the essence of the Feywild, whose power reached into the world even there on the doorstep of Xxiphu.
Malyanna began to countercast, but before her slashing gestures concluded, thick vines burst from the floor and seized her. The vines were studded with long thorns that wept poison. She shrieked—not in pain, but rather in full-throated rage.
“You’ll regret crossing a priestess of the Sovereignty!” Her voice was the harsh roar of the blizzard. Even as the vines struggled to twine her tighter and puncture her white flesh, she crooned a new series of syllables, more a song than a spell.
The eladrin’s melody was not a call to winter. It was an obscene mantra whose words were each corruptions of sentient language. The lilting music fell from Malyanna’s mouth and stained reality with its mad juxtaposition of pitch, tone, and melody.
Neifion fluttered his massive wings. For all his power, the strange energy rippling from the eladrin ruffled him. It was utterly alien to his experience. He wondered if she really was an eladrin noble at all, or something that wore the fey flesh as a guise.
Malyanna’s song was answered. From the dark entrance that framed her came a flicker of purplish light. A sliding, muddy rush of noise murmured from the opening. The sound suggested to Neifion a stampede of worms, if those worms were the size of bulls.
Neifion took in the iron flinders of the trek bell. He darted a glance down the troubling sides of the edifice on which he perched, then up, looking for other exits. He couldn’t immediately detect any. Finally, he looked past the vine-wrapped eladrin. Unwholesome shadows swarmed in the tunnel behind her.
Neifion decided to chance another tactic.
He allowed his greater form to lapse. His leathery wings folded away and his bulk deflated. He melted into the suited, caped, pale-skinned version of himself that most creatures found more amenable to conversation.
He raised his hands and said, “I believe we started off on the wrong foot, Malyanna. What did you say you wished to learn from me? Japheth’s whereabouts? Perhaps we can come to an accord. I don’t really wish to fight.”
Though his words were calm and measured, the Lord of Bats ground his teeth between each sentence.
He waved a hand; the vines holding Malyanna withered and became dust.
The woman ceased her sick tune. When the last note died away, the garish light from the corridor failed too, and with it the disquieting shadows the light had thrown. She shook out her garments. Residual dust from the Lord of Bats’s clinging vines scattered.
“I would prefer feeding you to those who inhabit this relic of a failed promise,” Malyanna said. “But I find myself pressed for time, after all these long centuries. So I ask you once again, where is Japheth?”
The Lord of Bats replied, “Let us throw in together, you and I, Malyanna. What say you? I can lead you to the traitor warlock easily enough. All I ask in return—”
“All you’ll get in return,” interrupted the woman, “is your life.”
Neifion’s brow darkened. Did she seek to provoke him? “You are a formidable creature. I admit you surprised me just now. You have more resources than any eladrin, noble or otherwise, should have claim to. But do not make the mistake of underestimating my power. I doubt you know its full extent. You might find yourself slain in turn, were I to loose it. Do not forget I am a lord of the Feywild itself. I number among the archfey.”
The woman snorted, but then scowled as she considered the man’s words.
Neifion waited.
“You seek one last alliance, Neifion?” she finally said. “Fine. Let us work together until we find the damned human. I presume he is somewhere in Xxiphu. I could locate him, given time. But if you can lead me directly to him, I am ready to follow. You can kill him, and I … I will take back something he once promised to deliver to me.”
The Lord of Bats grinned widely, as if all their former strife were forgotten. He said, “The Dreamheart? Of all the lies you told me, that one thing remains true?”
She shrugged.
“Accompan
y me, then. I sense the pact breaker is this way.” He pointed past the shattered bell into the corridor beyond. The sounds and the strange light the tunnel had emitted were now absent.
He continued, “You obviously have a way with the natives. Together, we can corral Japheth relatively quickly. Without my powers to give him teeth, he is like a babe out of his crib.”
Malyanna said, “I can command some of the lesser creatures that reside here. The greater ones may, against all reason, begrudge my presence. We may have to fight our way forward, if so.”
The Lord of Bats grinned. “I look forward to slaking my thirst before the main course.”
“Be careful of what you eat here. It may give you indigestion.”
The two passed together into the narrower corridor. Neifion glanced with barely concealed disgust at the layer of slime that coated the rounded tunnel. He noted the deep breaths the eladrin took of the briny odor suffusing the place—and her satisfied smile.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Year of the Secret (1396 DR)
Green Siren,
Beneath the Sea of Fallen Stars
Raidon directed the ship downward, piercing Faerûn’s rocky foundations. He concentrated upon the needs of each moment, finding that the deeper Green Siren descended, the more difficult his task. The thread connecting his symbol and the city of Xxiphu remained constant, but the “terrain” through which they traveled grew ever more treacherous.
On several occasions, the ship’s path intersected air-filled hollows. The first time, Green Siren lurched and fell several man-heights before Raidon realized the danger. He yanked the mental reins yoked to the gleamtail jacks. Instead of smashing into the floor of the unexpected vault, the ship descended as gently as a petal. He had dealt with several such hollows since the first one. However, each time they pierced a new kind of environment, the ship reacted unexpectedly.
He started upon finding Seren and Thoster standing near him, trying to get his attention.
“Uh, yes?” said Raidon.
Seren said, “Thoster’s suffering from poor parenting. How long before we arrive at our destination? I think I can … ameliorate the affliction of his birthright if we have an hour to spare.”
The monk shook his head, feeling dim-witted. He didn’t have the first idea what the wizard meant. He said, “What are you—”
A knot of harder mineral bumped the whole ship to starboard. Green Siren threatened to keel over, but Raidon’s quick adjustment brought the deck level again.
The captain had grabbed the mainmast, but Seren had toppled over.
“What was that?” Thoster said.
“A symptom of your interruption,” said Raidon.
Seren picked herself up. She said, “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were being petty. Now, do we have an hour?”
“Probably,” said Raidon. “Now leave me. I’m sure you can handle whatever it is.”
Thoster grinned and doffed his hat. Seren opened her mouth as if to argue, but then said, “Very well.”
Raidon closed his eyes and instantly dismissed them from his consciousness.
They had already spent the better part of a day descending. His constant adjustment of the gleamtails was having an effect. Several of the tiny fish summoned from the Chaos had fallen from the school and gasped out their last on the planking. Seren had said the protective aura generated by them would last a tenday before it dispersed. Raidon was certain they had about half that much time, given his direct experience.
Thankfully, he sensed that the aberrant taint he traced was close. Perhaps only a few hours to go.
The sound of Angul groaning brought Raidon back to the moment. He’d lost himself in the mesmerizing descent. The Sign burned with proximity. Xxiphu was nearly close enough to touch!
He called out, “Captain Thoster! Seren!”
The wizard was seated on a pile of coiled hawser that lay on the deck along the railing. She closed a slender tome, then stood and slipped the book into a haversack. She said, “Are we there?”
Raidon said, “Close. Where’s the captain?”
“Thoster’s closed in his cabin with the ship’s healer. After our session, he required a few stitches.” Seren turned to a nearby crew member and said, “Go tell your captain we need him.”
Raidon slowed their descent to a crawl while they waited. “Your session?” he said.
Seren sighed. “It’s not important, Raidon. I handled it, like you asked.”
The monk nodded, recalling the one-sided conversation. Something about the captain needing some kind of affliction removed?
When the captain showed up on deck, he was shrugging into his coat. The left sleeve of his linen shirt was pulled back, leaving room for a wide layer of bandages around his forearm. Blood marked the bandages. In his hand dangled a leather cord.
“Feeling better?” said Seren.
The captain scowled and said, “I suppose, but no thanks to you. I didn’t know you’d be taking a sample!”
Seren said, “Remember to keep that amulet close. It’ll keep your change in check. Probably.”
Thoster just shook his head.
“Prepare yourselves and the ship,” Raidon said. “The aboleth city is moments away.”
Thoster nodded. He slipped the amulet around his neck. Raidon noticed a fan of fish scales hanging at the cord’s end. There wasn’t enough time to pursue the questions that sprang to his mind.
The captain turned slightly to address his crew. “Listen up! Get this tub shipshape! Prepare to ram and to board! It may be some godsforsaken alien temple we’ll find, but by Shar’s black heart, I guess monsters bleed the same as men and elves!”
Green Siren plunged through the ceiling of a massive vault half drowned in an oily sea. The cavern was pierced by an obelisk wider than several city blocks and ten times as tall as it was wide. Its foundation was drowned in murky fluid, and the upper end was jammed into the ceiling. Rookeries, balconies, inscriptions, runes, and other features gaped like hungry mouths all across its face.
“Impossible!” said Seren. Her face was slack with incipient terror. The wizard moved so she actually stood next to the monk, inside the ritual circle. Raidon was relieved she didn’t try, unconsciously or not, to wrest control of the gleamtails from him.
The half-elf concentrated to slow Green Siren’s descent. He saw a gallery high up along the face near where the obelisk plunged into the ceiling. The opening looked wide enough to hold the entire ship.
But Green Siren was heavy, and he’d learned the gleam-tail jacks were least adapted to air. The deck sawed left, then right, as Raidon tried to stop the craft’s downward trajectory.
“What’re you up to?” said Captain Thoster from his left. “Trying to shake me off my own ship?”
Raidon glanced at the man. The privateer had both hands wrapped around the railing. His wide hat tipped over and began to fall. The captain released one hand and snatched it before it descended more than a couple of feet.
Then Thoster’s eyes grew round in surprise as he gazed into the abyss.
“What is it?”
“That damned kraken!” said Thoster. “It’s down there in the water!”
“Gethshemeth?” said Seren. “How can that be?”
“Damn your spells, how should I know? I ain’t a wizard! I …”
The captain gasped. He smashed his hat down on his head, then snatched his sword from its sheath.
“It’s coming up to give us a kiss,” Thoster yelled. “Our little gleamtails ain’t the only thing that’s learned how to swim in air.”
Angul released a howl of fury from its sheath on the monk’s back. A couple of nearby crew looked around for the source of the atonal noise.
Even without touching it, Raidon sensed the sword urging him to confront the kraken. But if he released the leashed gleamtails, the ship might fall out of the air.
“Seren, take over,” he said. The wizard’s pale skin had taken on a greenish cast
at the news of Gethshemeth’s presence. But she nodded and stepped nearer.
The monk released control of the ritual even as Seren took it up. Green Siren jerked down and to port, then hovered, slowly turning in place.
“Do you have it?” Raidon asked.
Seren nodded.
“Make for that gallery,” he said, pointing toward the high cavity he’d spied. “I’ll deal with Gethshemeth.”
Raidon leaped from the circle to the railing in one movement. He kicked one foot between the spars to anchor himself.
He dragged Angul from his sheath. The sword exulted, catching fire immediately. A pulse of certitude surged into Raidon’s blood.
He leaned over and saw a monstrous thing approaching from below. It was a creature meant for watery abysses, but Gethshemeth hurtled up through moist air as if born to it. Tentacles slapped and grasped upward, pulling the scarred bulk behind. Eyes like twin fire pits burned with mad hatred. Raidon saw the stump of the tentacle he had severed when he’d fought the creature tendays before, the one that had held the Dreamheart.
Something had grown back in its place. It was an irregular, splotchy globe sprinkled with a dozen tiny eyes, all blinking stupidly. Even through the unyielding conviction Angul woke in Raidon, the tumorlike growth brought a taste of bile to his lips.
Angul, seeing what Raidon saw, screamed his outrage against the insult to the world’s natural order. The blade’s fire leaped higher, and the symbol on Raidon’s chest burst into flame. Its hue alternated between the lighter cerulean hue of the Sign and the darker blue fire of a spellscar.
The display didn’t slow the approaching creature. In moments, the rising kraken’s tentacles would wrap around Green Siren.
Raidon knew, from the time he’d spent in the ritual circle’s center, that the gleamtails could not hope to hold aloft both the ship and a kraken of Gethshemeth’s size.
“Knowing is dust unless action follows after,” Raidon muttered, one of the proverbs of Xiang Temple.
He grabbed one end of the hawser Seren had earlier used as a stool. The other end of the coiled rope was tied to a stanchion. Good. He dived off the side of the ship. A line of blue fire traced his path downward.
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