Shilana's Trial

So we decided to take the other alternative open to us -- escort Gheeran back to his fellow Trickster believers and hope that all the talk about a cure was not just a ruse to secure our help.

Davec proved to be a selfless friend that day, offering supplies so that we could start our trek the following morning. He also tried to chase the dark mood away by entertaining us in a small back room of the inn, sharing stories of the time when he was still travelling the Western Continent. His tales went from sober to frivolous quickly, both thanks to Arach's constant teasing and the amount of drink we all had, but it became too much for me. I couldn't stop thinking about Leo, about the horrible things I had said when last we were here.

"Hey, where are you going?" Tear asked softly when I rose from my seat next to her.

"I... need some fresh air. Don't mind me, all right?"

"Are you all right?" she prodded, taking my hand into hers.

"Just leave me be, damn it!" I snapped, pulling my hand free. She looked hurt, but I really couldn't care less right now. Then I left the room, closing the door behind me. A few moments later I was in the yard. The occasional snorting from the stables and the constant singing of crickets was a welcome change from the laughing and jesting. I took a deep breath, trying to chase the cobwebs from my mind, then I made my way into the vault, a combination of storage area and trophy room. I didn't need a torch, my elven vision made the best use of even the little light filtering down from the yard. And there he was, safely tucked away between a solid weapons rack and a huge barrel of ale, secured with several ropes, to keep him from toppling over. I forced myself to step closer, until I could lean against him.

"How are you doing, my friend?" I whispered, raising my hand to caress his lifeless features. "I wish you could hear me in there."

I laughed bitterly. Who was I kidding? For all I knew, Leo was dead, turned into a lifeless piece of rock. Why talk to him? He wouldn't hear me anyway.

"Giving up on him already?" a little, mean voice inside of me hissed. "A fine friend you are. No wonder he chose Arach to be his first."

My hand slammed solidly into the barrel.

"Shut up!" I snapped.

"Oh, but it's true, isn't it? There is still a chance, but you're behaving as if he's already six feet under. You only fight tooth and nail if it suits your own, little crusade."

"I said 'shut up'", I snarled, at no one in particular.

But that insidious voice wouldn't stop. "And here you are, wallowing in self-pity instead of looking into every chance to get your precious, precious Leo back. Oh, but now I get it. You don't want him back, because he hurt you?"

"I'll show you," I growled. I didn't know which part of me was speaking, but I hated it with an intensity that surprised me. And I vowed then and there that I would shut it up for good.

I leaned against Leo's chest plate and caressed his face with my fingertips.

"I promise, Leo. I will find a cure for you. And then I'll apologize, come whatever may."

Standing on tip-toes, I brushed my lips against his, shivering as I kissed the cold, unflinching stone.

"Just wait for me, and don't you dare shatter while I'm away."

Strangely, I slept soundly that night, for the first time in ages.

* * * *

The next morning, we were off again. Another teleport brought us back to the deserted village. Sadly, Tissana the medusa hadn't returned, so we couldn't finish our business with her. From there, we had to trek several days through the wilderness, until we arrived at an old monastery, the pitted stone building overgrown with ivy, the tower of the temple half-collapsed.

"Are ye sure this is the place?" Zentam asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I may be blind, but I'm not stupid. Your compass does work, right?" Gheeran snapped.

"O'course, it's of the finest dwarven making!" Zentam boasted.

"Well, there you have it, straight from the pack lizard's mouth. Gimme a second," the dark elf snickered, before putting two fingers into his mouth, giving a trilling whistle that reverberated shockingly loud off the walls. As one, we drew, or in my case, summoned, our weapons, my staff feeling reassuringly solid in my grasp. And then I saw them, like shadows rising from the thickets and underbrush, almost two dozen dark elves, assorted weapons at the ready. Most prominently their signature armament, a small crossbow, strapped to the forearm, loaded with sleek black darts. And without preamble, they opened fire.

* * * *

By now, I was really sick of losing consciousness. The darts hadn't killed us, thankfully, their tiny points not enough to inflict lasting damage. But the sleeping poison on those darts was potent enough to even knock out our stalwart dwarf. Zentam was happily snoring next to me on the floor when I came to. Our captors seemed to have experience in handling spell casters. Not only did I sport a gag that stopped my mouth from moving, but my hands were expertly tied up, fingers tied together in twos, to foil any idea of silent spellcasting. As if that wasn't bad enough, the wrists were bound together, crossed on my back. My ankles didn't fare much better, although the rope binding them had some give, possibly to allow walking. All in all, my situation was extremely uncomfortable. All I could see, apart from a well-cleansed tile floor, were assorted boxes and barrels. There wasn't much light, only a sputtering torch afforded some reddish illumination.

I wriggled around until I could see the rest of our small band, equally well secured. Tear and Arach also were gagged. Our captors sure didn't take any chances. The only one missing, not surprisingly, was Gheeran. Arach's eyes opened, then narrowed as she realized the situation she was in, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in her throat. I saw her neck muscles flex as she tested her bonds, then she sighed in annoyance and rolled her eyes at me. Despite all my pent-up anger, my frustration, I felt a smile tug at my lips, which wasn't really helping. The gag nearly was choking me, the clump of fabric already soaked through by my spit, but the wide leather band holding the thing in place made it impossible to dislodge it.

Then I heard it, steps coming closer. A moment later, a key turned in a lock, obscenely loud after all the relative quiet.

"I guess they should be awake by now," a gentle male voice I didn't recognize said.

Arach gave a muffled snarl, writhing on the floor, fighting to get in an upright position.

"Relax, I am about to unbind you," came the voice again. "We just had to make sure you were no threat to us. I am sorry."

A shadow loomed over me, then I felt long, soft fingers brushing over my hand. In no time flat, the wrist bonds were undone, but I noticed that whoever was fiddling with the bonds didn't touch the finger restraints. The fingers travelled higher, it almost felt like they were caressing my spine. I let out a warning growl. I was so not in the mood. With the clinking of a metallic buckle, the gag finally fell away and I could spit out the clump of fabric.

"We will talk," the voice said, beating my insults to the punch. "But let me first deal with your companions here, all right?" Then he stepped over me. I could only see his silhouette, picked out by the flickering torch. He was thin, almost emaciated, but he moved with the fluidity of a dancer. Or a highly trained killer, something that more often than not was eponymous with dark elves. He again bent down and I could see his face in profile as he undid Arach's bonds, silver hair pulled back into a low, tight ponytail, his nose a slim, sharp sliver. Before he could even reach for her gag, Arach used her now freed arms to quickly roll to her back, her bound feet coming up in a wicked arc aimed at the stranger's crotch. I never blinked, but I almost missed his evasive step, the arm flicking out to deflect the kick. A moment later, he had Arach turned back onto her belly, both legs bent and tucked under one shoulder, his weight leaning on the shins, keeping the struggling drow priestess in check while his free hand undid her gag.

"I wish you no harm, yet. There is no reason for these hostilities," the stranger said conversationally.

"Oh, I have more than enough reason to be pissed at you. Is that the way you treat people who bring strays back into the fold?" Arach snapped. "Shooting us? Locking us up like fucking cattle? And then you're wondering why I'm mad?"

"As I have told your beautiful elven friend here, I needed to make sure you were no threat to us or Gheeran. And you have to admit, armed Surface dwellers and priestesses of the Moon Maiden, walking up to our home. Very few possibilities on how that may play out."

"Fine. But one wrong move and I'll remember my upbringing," Arach hissed.

"Oh, I love freshly converted priestesses," the stranger chuckled, undoing Tear's restraints and gag. Then he pulled her up to her feet, openly admiring the slender woman. "She is your ward, I presume?"

"Yes," Tear sighed, breathless.

"What's wrong?" Arach asked, coming to her feet on her own.

"I think Gheeran... is having sex. I can't think like this!" Tear snapped.

The stranger shook his head and tsked softly, "And I told our healer to keep his ministrations to a minimum. After all, I need Gheeran's report. Well, what do you know. Did you, by any chance, take the Blood Oath with him?"

Tear blushed and bent her head low, squirming, her hands on her thighs clenching and unclenching.

"I am impressed that you would go that far to secure his compliance. But let us take this conversation somewhere more comfortable." Without bothering to unbind Zentam, the stranger turned on his heels and left the room, waiting for us outside.

"What about our friend?" I asked, rising slowly. Having two unwieldy nubs of silk-corded flesh for hands wasn't exactly helpful. I followed the stranger outside, into the somewhat brighter corridor. Two guards waited to the left and right of the door while the stranger leaned against the far wall. His eyes were strange, and as our gaze met, I realized why. Instead of normal pupils, he had flat gold irises, without any obvious pupil.

"I think I prefer a soon-to-be-furious dwarf behind lock and key instead of at my throat. I'm somewhat paranoid," he admitted with a shrug.

"I hope the rest of the ropes goes as well," Arach snarled when she and Tear exited the room. A guard leaned in and closed the door, turning the key.

"Follow me. The quicker we get to my study, the sooner your bonds are off," the stranger promised.

A few minutes later we were comfortably sitting in high-backed leather armchairs, completely at odds with the usual austerity of the place. A fire was crackling in a large brazier, bathing just one quarter of the spacious room in a golden illumination, while the rest of the room, including the place where we were sitting, was shrouded in twilight. True to his word, the stranger had personally undone the rest of the ropes hindering our movement.

"And why did we have to hobble all the way here? Did you get a kick out of parading us in front of your henchmen?" Arach spat.

"It's easy, my furious spider. This room is warded. Only certain spells work here, and I didn't particularly enjoy our small parade. But enough with that. My name is Ya'tyrr, leader of this little group of misfits and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for returning my favourite student back to me." He sounded surprisingly sincere. "Too bad someone thought it a good idea to gouge his eyes out."

"So you're gonna kill him? After all, that's the way of our people," Arach hissed.

Ya'tyrr leaned forward and fixed her with a hard stare. "No, for two very obvious reasons. First, as long as he does not undo the Blood Oath, killing him would also slay this beautiful being," his hand flicked Tear's way, "and even blind, Gheeran is a valuable member of my group and a friend besides. It may take some time to overcome this handicap, but with effort and some magic, I think he will be as good as new."

The silver-haired drow took a cup of wine from the table besides his armchair, sipped at it and sighed contentedly. "Now that this is out of the way, it is my turn to ask questions. Who are you people, and what do you want from me?"

"Didn't Gheeran tell you?" Tear softly asked. She had been even quieter than usual, trading meaningful looks with Arach.

"No, I sent him to the apothecary straight away when we took you in. So, in his stead, you could tell me," Ya'tyrr grinned.

I knew enough about dark elves to easily see that Ya'tyrr was bluffing. It was painfully obvious that he very well knew already, despite his claims to the contrary. He was just making sure we didn't try to squeeze more out of the bargain we made with Gheeran than initially negotiated.

"Let's make it quick, then," I said, taking the reins of the conversation. "We found Gheeran in Miller's Crossing, as a medusa's personal pleasure slave. We freed him and as thanks he promised you would look into a cure for petrification."

"Oh? I don't see no statues here, apart from the obvious ones," Ya'tyrr grinned, his hand encompassing the room we were in, remnants of the monastery's prior affiliation still visible in alcoves and frescoes all around. With a start I recognized the imagery -- balances, shields, stern-looking men interposing themselves before the weak. This must once have been a home to the followers of Lord Justice. My thoughts flicked back to Leo, locked away in a cellar under the Bored Basilisk, like some piece of luggage, and I had to fight to keep my composure.

"One of our band has been petrified, and there's the matter of the villagers," I said. Focussing on the task at hand helped, but my stomach still fluttered when I thought about the man I hurt so badly.

A slow, sad smile spread across Ya'tyrr's features. "That puts me in a rather uncomfortable position. I know about a cure for the ailment, that is true. But the ingredients are costly and it is quite an involved undertaking. I happen to have a little of it here, enough to fully restore a grown man, but enough for a whole village? That is testing the limits of my generosity."

"You greedy bastard!" Arach snapped, jumping to her feet, about to charge at the male.

"Excuse me? You were the ones asking for enough medicine to cure a whole village. Even if I had enough at hand, it would be staggeringly expensive, and even the lives of three of my people may not be enough in exchange for it."

Tear looked up and stopped squirming. "I do hear a 'but' somewhere."

"Do you now? Hmm. You're such a gorgeous woman, and your senses are sharper than the tongue of the fiery one here," Ya'tyrr purred. "Maybe we could come to an agreement?"

"You tell me. But I will not bed you. Being tangled up with Gheeran.... is taxing my patience. What are you doing to him anyway?" Tear gasped.

"Oh, a little reward for his loyalty. Our deputy healer and his nurse should be taking care of his every need. Want to join them, perhaps? That might lessen the strain, poor thing."

Tear vehemently shook her head 'no'. "My heart is already taken and your games won't change that. Damn," she hissed, closing her thighs around both hands pressed against her sex.

"I am sorry if I my generosity is causing you any kind of distress. Maybe we should continue this once Gheeran had his fill of cock?" Ya'tyrr snickered.

Tear bit her lip, her eyes focussing at the pain. "This is taking too long already. What do you want of us?"

"You see, Gheeran and his squad were not the only ones we lost recently. My second raiding team failed to report back a few days ago and I fear for their lives," Ya'tyrr explained. "I'd like your band of stalwart friends to go out and rescue them, or at least the two most valuable members of that band."

"Oh, how generous of you to sort your subordinates in order of usefulness," Arach hissed.

"Well, a fully-trained battle-mage and a priestess of the Moon Maiden are hard to come by, won't you agree? Especially a priestess who is sympathetic to our cause. My master can only grant me feats of skulduggery and legerdemain, but healing is beyond his abilities," Ya'tyrr admitted.

"Why are you chatting with us then instead of chasing after them?" I asked.

Unperturbed, Ya'tyrr counted off the reasons on his fingers, "First, I have no magic to help in tracking them, since my wizard is one of those who is missing. Second, seeing that you are three spellcasters, you probably would have some means of travelling great distances in a hurry, something my lizard riders are hard-pressed to do. And last but not least, you won't get attacked for just poking your head out of the woodwork. It only makes sense for me to ask for help, especially since I have something you desire so much."

"How do we know they're still alive in the first place?" I had to ask.

"We don't. But we can find out easily. Does any of you know scrying magic?" Ya'tyrr countered.

I nodded. I used it sparingly, but I knew my way around a scrying pool, crystal ball or even a mirror.

Ya'tyrr's grin was eerily infectious. "Splendid. I so do love good news. How quickly can you begin?"

* * * *

The ingredients were easy enough to get a hold of. A wide bowl, enough water to fill it up, a bit of chalk from my component bag, something that belonged to the subject in question and finally, a scroll with the words to the formula on it. Drawing the involved symbols took quite some time, but after about an hour, Ya'tyrr handed me a piece of fabric, a small triangle of some silky, purple material, long strings dangling off each end. Tear and Arach started laughing at my puzzled expression.

"What's so damn funny?" I hissed at them.

In their stead, Ya'tyrr spoke up. "You asked for something Jhaelra treasured greatly. I hereby present to you a piece of her fabled spider silk lingerie." With a huge grin, he dropped it into my palm. "And it's the most interesting piece of them all," he whispered, caressing his crotch.

"Very comfortable, once you get used to it. Much less drafty than your loincloths," Tear said with a smile. "I sometimes wish for drow tailors on the Surface," she added.

"What a lucky coincidence. I have just one such craftsmen with me. Maybe you would like to order some garments? I will make sure he grants you a fitting discount," Ya'tyrr offered. Both women looked tempted.

"Can we please get back to the task at hand?" I snapped. All this chatter was making my job needlessly difficult. Taking a deep breath, I tried to focus. Unrolling the scroll, I called upon the mystical energies enveloping our world and began to coax the information I sought from the ether, forcing my way along the trail of convoluted syllables constituting the spell. My hands hovered over each symbol in turn, causing them to flare to shimmering life as the spell went on. And then I was done, the reflection of the ceiling had vanished from the bowl. In its stead, we all saw the ravaged body of a drow female, curled up in a ball, to protect herself as best she could from the stinging lashes of a whip. Her back, shoulders and arms already were lined with bloody furrows, but her assailant seemed unwilling to stop. I altered the view so that I could see who was tormenting her like that. To my surprise, it was a naked drow male, tears streaking down his face as he mercilessly whipped the prone figure. Ya'tyrr inhaled sharply.

"Do you know these two?" I asked. I didn't know why, but the way these two were behaving was odd, even for dark elves. My eyes darted back to the scrying bowl and I met the gaze of the woman, her purple eyes clouded with pain, her hair a caked, badly trimmed rat's nest plastered to her skull.