Mud and Magic Ch. 14

"Then I will make haste and introduce myself," Carver said. Despite the sudden appearance of his forces, blinding light from the portals and all, the battle wasn't turning into the headless rout he had hoped. The goblins and orcs screening the dark elf troops died in droves but the invaders' momentum seemed still to be intact. Depriving the enemy of their leadership quickly would minimize losses both for him and House Dree'vex.

Marissa stretched out her hand and fired off a thin beam of destructive energy, aimed directly at one of the surviving Living Remembrances. The spell hit the creature right between the eyes, blasting apart the malformed dark elven visage. The rest of the body crumpled to the floor in an ever-expanding cloud of white, dandruff-like dust.

"Why did you use one of your most potent spells on that?" Carver asked, preparing a spell of his own. Again, he brushed his fingers against the hard scar tissue on his sternum, shrouding himself and Marissa in a cocoon of enchantments. For the next few moments, they would be both invisible and weightless, allowing them to fly across the battle without anyone seeing them.

"I hate those spider-things," Marissa spat. "Especially after what Jhaless made us watch the night before I killed her." Her fingers closed around his hand.

Carver pushed off the roof and guided his flight in a curved path past the battle. From his lofty vantage point, he could see that his own forces had ground to a halt. The dark elven invaders had dropped numerous globes of inky blackness over the battlefield, nullifying the glaring sunlight pouring through the portals. A broad wedge of huge, towering shapes was lumbering towards the front, consisting of ogres and minotaurs, the subterranean equivalent of heavy shock troops. Should they manage to penetrate the defenders' formation, his forces might suffer heavy casualties.

Let's show them some shock and awe of our own, Carver thought, digging his fingers into a belt pouch. He unearthed a rough-hewn piece of obsidian which was uncomfortably hot to the touch. Muttering a quick command word, he tossed the sharp-edged stone piece into the maelstrom of bodies below. Pushed by an unseen force, the warriors on both sides of the battle withdrew as a fiercely glowing circle of magma appeared on the ground. A moment later, a mammoth pillar of flame roared upwards. It scorched the roof of the cavern before collapsing in on itself again. Instead of disappearing, the roiling flames formed into a vaguely humanoid shape, nearly sixty feet in height.

"Smite my enemies," Carver ordered, barely audible over the din of battle below. But the enormous fire elemental heeded his call. A cone of red-hot fury erupted from its chest, immolating dozens of dark elves and ogres. The screams of the dying and the stench of cooking flesh wafted upwards.

"That should give us the time we need to deal with the enemy command," Carver said, resuming his path beyond the compound's edge. Thick fog shrouded the area around the battlefield, shielding most of the attacking force from prying eyes.

"They are using an awful lot of magic down there, Morgan," Marissa muttered into his ear. She tried hard not to retch. "Right about there, by the statue on the plaza." He couldn't see her invisible, pointing finger but the statue of some imposing, bare-breasted figure making a grand gesture with her sword easily poked through the fog.

"Can you dispel their enchantments from up here?" he asked, slowly gliding closer.

A soft chuckle answered him. Marissa smoothed her curvy body against him, snaking an arm around his waist for support. She gnashed her teeth and tensed up, forcing her will upon the magics at work below. Suddenly the fog was gone, leaving a small huddle of figures visible to the naked eye. Three priestesses, garbed in spike-adorned plate armor, looked up in surprise while the warriors around them, bearing a blazing red "X" on their breast plates, brandished their weapons and formed a defensive circle around their leaders. An ornate pedestal bearing a gleaming crystal ball stood between the females while a fourth female had been leashed to the statue's shapely leg. Her body had been viciously ravaged. Carver wasn't even sure if she was still alive.

He alighted within the circle of warriors and ended the spell. Marissa moved swiftly, covering his back.

"I think you should call off the attack," Carver said amicably, hefting his mace. "The battle is lost. You might salvage some of your forces if you leave quietly."

"And who are you?" one of the females snarled. Her hair was of a striking copper color, an oddity among the dark elves.

"I am an ally to House Dree'vex. My men are busy slaughtering yours. Also, one wrong move and everybody dies," Carver threatened. Blistering radiance flared up behind him as Marissa readied some fiery combat magic.

The priestess barked a laugh. "My losses are insignificant. The only one losing troops here is House Dree'vex." The other priestesses joined in her mirth. "You should have chosen better allies, Morgan Carver. House Dree'vex no longer has the Chaos Queen's favor."

"You seem to know more about them than I know about you. Who are you and what is your stake in this?" Carver asked.

"I am Irian, Matron Mother of House Xalaari, blessed and beloved of the Chaos Queen."

"Xalaari?" Marissa asked quietly. "They are the sixteenth House in Nardur. A few rungs beneath Dree'vex."

"No longer! If their own priestesses are betraying them in droves, what value can that cursed House have? Ally with us, Morgan Carver, and I shall grant whatever you wished from them." Irian cooed.

"So the poor wench over there is Xalyth," Carver observed, indicating the whimpering dark elf bound to the statue. "Not her night."

"Never trust someone eager to betray their kin, adopted or not," Matron Xalaari intoned. "She may have delivered House Dree'vex to us but she will never be part of ours -- except to pleasure my warriors if they so desire."

Carver had heard enough. Arguing with deluded dark elves would only cause the battle to drag on unnecessarily. He had no intention to sacrifice more of his men than necessary and the Xalaari woman didn't have anything to offer him. He called upon Desire's might.

Three lances of stone shot up from the ground, impaling the priestesses before they even knew what happened to them. Blood, gore and brain matter fountained. Marissa added her own touch to the devastation, firing off fiery lances from both hands which immolated half a dozen dark elven warriors. The others turned and ran. Carver strode to the pedestal. The crystal ball showed a bird's eye view of the courtyard. Without guidance from the priestesses, the invaders' formation was crumbling under the pressure of the combined defending forces and the furious fire elemental. Somehow his and the Dree'vex soldiers were fighting side by side, mercilessly slaughtering whoever didn't flee. Tanith did an admirable job of guiding their disparate forces. No wonder, considering they are dealing in mercenaries and slaves.

Carver turned away from the scrying device and inspected the belt pouches of the impaled Matron Xalaari. He found, among a smattering of other things, an elaborate scroll. He intoned a quick prayer, asking Desire for enhanced understanding. Before his eyes, the angular dark elven runes resolved themselves in legible writing. He beheld a contract between Houses Dree'vex and Xalaari for two regiments of battle fodder, a squad of ogres and one elite squad of siege-trained minotaurs, signed by Xalyth and paid in advance, almost a fortnight ago. He chuckled softly. Dark elves were known for hatching elaborate schemes. It was rare to see one backfire so horribly.

"What about Xalyth?" Marissa asked, warily eyeing the handful of alleyways leading off the plaza. Her hands were sheathed in flickering, destructive energy.

Carver removed a small sack from a pouch on his belt and threw it over the crystal ball. "I think she will have a bit of explaining to do to her 'sisters,'" he said quietly, tying the pouch shut.

"Please, kill me already," Xalyth whispered. Close up, she looked horrible. One eye was swollen shut and her lips were shredded while the jaw sat an unhealthy angle. Her naked skin showed numerous bruises and lacerations. Xalyth's body was caked with ejaculate and she stood in a puddle of her own blood. Whatever the warriors of House Xalaari had done to her must have been worse than anything the ogre did the night before.

"Shhh," Carver muttered, casting a strong Healing spell. "Everything will be fine."

Xalyth gasped in terror as her flesh knit and her face mended. Chuckling, Marissa caressed her spine, muttering the Cleansing spell as she did. A fresh, unspoiled robe settled around Xalyth's shoulders and Marissa lovingly tied the sash around the priestess' waist.

The bound dark elf spat at his feet. "I knew it. You humans are worse than any of my kind. At least we are honest in our cruelty."

Carver undid the bonds holding Xalyth upright. She slid down the statue's leg, crumpling into an undignified heap. "You know," Carver said mildly. "I have no quarrel with you. If I had any say in this, I would have Marissa teleport you to a place of your choosing. But delivering you to the Dree'vex sisters for sentencing will make sure I get what I want. Nothing personal, really. Now come. See what you have wrought for yourself."

* * * * *

Blurry images, sensations and sounds managed to filter through the cacophony of pain. Flashes of sunlight, the howling of wind against sheer cliffs, the grinding of rigid plates against his tortured flesh. Muted voices. The clacking of hooves on stone.

Am I dying? Is this how souls travel to Plenty's domain? Rhys wondered.

Suddenly, the pain, the noises, the nausea-inducing swaying were gone, replaced by a feeling of serenity and weightlessness.

"Thank the stars this still works," Haloryth said, hovering close by. "Rhys? Can you hear me?"

He drew in a deep breath and realized it didn't send spears of anguish down his back. Looking around carefully, he noticed his body hung a good six feet off the ground, as if he was carried by someone tall. The floor below was a mass of indistinct, foggy grayness.

"I'm on... what did you call it? The Ethereal Plane? Why?"

Haloryth hung her head, face hidden by a cascade of golden tresses. "I'm trying to ease your suffering. Maybe you are not as powerful as I hoped."

Rhys concentrated and rotated his levitating body into a sitting position.

"What exactly happened back at the shrine? I asked for your help and the next moment, I'm overwhelmed by Sorcerer's Burn." He reached behind himself but there was nothing to touch. "Was there no other way? Your spell nearly killed me."

"You asked me to help you, remember? The situation required an approach which would - at the same time, mind you -- require the means to halt the shadows and make sure your friends wouldn't die. A Time Stop was the first thing which sprang to mind." The elf girl raised her head and fixed Rhys with a steady gaze. "I'm sorry you are badly hurt but, in the end, it all worked out. Your friends are whole and you managed to obtain the artifact."

Rhys groaned softly. "And now you've pulled me into the Ether while my body is carried away," he said, pointing towards two shadows walking side by side through a narrow valley. Each had an unconscious bundle slung over their shoulders.

"We won't be long. Again, I'm sorry to have hurt you. I really am."

"Next time, before you unleash a potentially lethal spell, please tell me what you're about to do so I can at least prepare. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

Haloryth crossed her arms in front of her chest. "We might not have the time to spare. Even at thinking speed, every moment wasted could be what separate life from death."

"And look what that got us. Now Elara and I are badly hurt and Borna and Chassari have to find a place to hunker down and put us back together. What about Celeste? Every hour we waste could be her last!"

"Would you have preferred if your whole party got slaughtered instead? I'm not sure if you have your priorities straight, my stubborn apprentice." Haloryth made a large, heaving gesture. "I have tried my best."

"I never doubted that." Rhys snapped, slightly irritated. "I'm just questioning your methods. Am I not allowed to do that, after you nearly killed me?"

"I did not nearly kill you. Yes, your body is in pain but you are a long way from dying. Give yourself some credit. You are tougher than you think."

"Many thanks," Rhys snarled. "I think we are done talking. Please let me get back to my body now. I'd rather prefer to be alone with my pain."

Haloryth shot him a hurt glare. The ghostly elven girl raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

A breath later, the agony was back. The peaceful nothingness of the Ether made the return to his ravaged body twice as painful. Muffled voices made soothing noises but they were way too faint to be heard above his own ragged, moaning breaths and the thumping of his pulse

The voices went back and forth. Rhys tried to follow the conversation but staying alert was much too taxing while his body screamed, drained almost beyond saving. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how much power Haloryth's spell had used. The pain arcing thorough his head and limbs meant he was alive. After all, the dead feel nothing. Wasn't that the old saying? Trying to open his eyes proved too much of a challenge and his consciousness faded.

When next he came to, there were the smells of old wood, goat cheese and stuffy blankets. Am I... coming home? Rhys thought. No, can't be. The village... destroyed by Faedal. The pain had lessened somewhat, from all-encompassing to merely a minor inferno, concentrated on his head and lower back.

A flash of blinding light was painful even behind his closed lids, then a disappointed sigh next to him.

"Well, the wounds are gone," Borna said. "But my body is the same monstrosity it was before."

"At least we know now the item isss not cursed." Chassari. Her lisping voice came from across the room. She sounded tired but whole. Rhys breathed a small sigh of relief. "Now for our elven princesss."

Another flare of brilliant light. Rhys groaned. Strong, hard fingers closed around his hand and squeezed gently. Close by, he heard a long, drawn-out gasp then the rustle of fabric.

"I'm amazed you can actually use the item," Borna said softly. "I think Rhys is coming to."

"Jussst another of my many talentsss. Magical itemsss are easy to fool, you know?" There was the tinkling of metal against metal.

Rhys forced his eyes open. They were no longer at the shrine. Instead, he looked at a sharply angled ceiling and beam work of a thatched roof. The rays of the setting sun slanted through a small window. An often-patched and itchy blanket had been draped over his naked body. Haloryth was nowhere to be seen. I hope she's not too mad at me, Rhys thought, remembering the things he had hurled at her on the Ethereal Plane. Since she's bound to the ring, she couldn't have gone that far. I'll apologize when I see her.

He looked around. Elara sat on the bed next to his, amazement in her eyes as she looked at Chassari kneeling beside her, the brightly glowing Hand Of Life in the serpent-headed envoy's hand. A golden necklace with the Lifegiver's three-pronged leaf symbol dangled from the fingers holding the idol.

"How...?" the elven druid gasped, gently touching her own forehead. "I... the pain is gone!"

"Finally some good news," Borna said. "How about you take over from Chassari and treat Rhys? He's in bad shape and I don't want our feathery friend downstairs to come looking for him."

"Of course." Elara swung her legs out of bed. Chassari passed her the Hand of Life, which she took reverently.

"How come I'm naked and she's not?" Rhys rasped.

"If that's your biggest problem, it can't be that bad," Elara said, chuckling. She sat down on the edge of Rhys' bed and closed her eyes.

"You bled through your damn clothes, that's why," Borna said. "Had to make sure you're not leaking all over this fine inn's bedding." She squeezed his hand again. "Healing first, questions later." There was concern in her voice.

Elara clutched the Hand of Life against her bosom. The idol was a life-sized recreation of a slender elven hand, with its index and middle fingers extended in a blessing motion and it shed a golden halo which outlined the elven druid's breasts with stark shadows. Elara touched Rhys' forehead in much the same way the fingers on the Hand were set and a jolt of energy tore through his body, painful in its intensity. It raced from his head to his toes, taking every ache and niggle with it. There was the horrible sound of bones breaking and reshaping as his knee mended itself.

Rhys forced breath into his lungs. "That freaking hurt!" he gasped, sitting up. His hand went for his knee. The patella felt ... normal again, not like the strangely misshapen lump of bone it had been ever since his last encounter with Faedal.

He pulled Elara into an exuberant hug. "Thank you!" he said. Elara cooed in his embrace and stole a kiss from his lips.

"And what about me?" Borna asked. "After all, I carried you for most of the day across some horribly dangerous goat paths to get here."

Rhys turned towards the crimson-plated woman and hugged her as well. "We should stop that particular thing from becoming a habit," he said, breathing a kiss onto her lips, causing Borna to sigh. Her fingers caressed along his back, coming to rest just above his butt crack. "Even your scars have receded somewhat," she said. "Next time, tell me how I can pry the healing potion off your damn bracer. I hate to see you suffer."

"Only the wearer can accesss the items," Chassari said, joining the huddle on the bed and stealing kisses left and right. "It would be really ssstupid if sssomeone else could snatch the thingsss in the heat of battle. Sssorry."

Rhys sighed. "Listen... Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. We didn't even make it to our main objective and I almost got everyone killed."

"Nonsense," Borna snapped. "If anyone should apologize, it's Elara."

"Me? What did I do?"

"Besides punch me halfway across that bloody chamber? What exactly happened down there?"

Rhys raised a hand. "Wait a moment. You said 'feathery friend'. What... or who are you talking about?"

"That Ulrich fellow. Saw him in the taproom while we carried you two up here. He can wait. So, princess... spill it!"

Elara met her gaze defiantly. "I didn't do anything. I got possessed." She bared her teeth. "Sadly, the thing which came for me wasn't a handsy undead elven mage."

"What wasss it then?" Chassari asked. Rhys plucked her questing hand off his nethers and squeezed.

"I'm not sure. Some corrupted force of nature. And it was very mad at us."

"Usss? What did we do in the firssst place?" Chassari wondered, extricating her fingers from Rhys', placing her palm on Elara's thigh.

"Us as in 'us, the elves.'" Elara said. "While it was busy abusing my body and spawning its shadowy progeny, it raged and screamed about how we neglected our duties as guardians of Nature's sacred sites." Her eyes met Rhys'. "I can't even blame it," she said softly. "We are lousy guardians, much too preoccupied with our own struggle."

"That'sss why it went ssstraight for you when you entered the chamber," Chassari muttered. "You think being touched by the Hand kept it at bay?"

"When Rhys touched me with his weapon, the spirit was driven from me. I figured if it can't touch the Hand, maybe the idol would keep it at bay."

"Please tell me you're not possessed," Borna growled. "One haunted friend is more than enough."