The Dark Flower, Book II - Chapter 4

[Mikayla]

Chapter 4

Sheyreza Auvryndar fought madly amidst a swarm of sword spiders on the steps of the temple. She stood alone against the onrushing arachnids like a rock against the waves of a rising tide. Her long black blade thrust into the attackers and was answered by flailing sword-like legs from all directions. The slashing attacks of the sword spiders could not tear the mithril plates of Sheyreza’s armor but the blows did not go unfelt. The lithe priestess was buffeted about, barely able to stay on her feet and keep hold of her sword. She screamed the words to a prayer barely able to hear herself over the screeching arachnids all around. The adamantine blade of her sword, Lil Jurson d’Lolathanon, the Wrath of the Dark Flower, burst into violet and mauve flames. Unable to swing and slash with the weapon under the press of the spiders, Shey thrust the weapon at her enemies. Each thrust elicited black ichor and anguished arachnid screams, but the swarm would not be so easily defeated. Blow after blow pummeled her armor, helm and shield. Though imbued by spell with divine strength and endurance, Sheyreza was being pushed aside. The sheer weight of numbers and the chaotic ferocity of the assault forced the besieged drowess from the steps.

Almost growling, Sheyreza started another prayer to her goddess, this one to bolster her protections against the maddening cascade of sword-legs that fell upon her like a torrential rain. One of the sword spiders choose that moment to leap forward, thrusting with its long, sharp legs. One deadly appendage slipped under the skirt of the priestess’s armor and into her soft flesh. Sheyreza’s prayer spell was lost as she screamed in pain. The spider took advantage of the moment and climbed over her. In flash it sunk its fangs into the gap between her armor plates at the armpit.

Desperately, Sheyreza spun and twisted her body. The sword spider slipped off and she slashed at it, her long flaming blade cutting through one of the arachnid’s legs. Other spiders quickly crawled over their wounded comrade and resumed pummeling Sheyreza. The priestess fell back under the relentless, phrenetic assault, slashing wildly at the blade-legs all around her. Long ago, Sheyreza had seen Shyntlara, her Matron Mother, raise a wall of magically conjured blades that whirled about, tearing apart all who might dare cross the line of the enchanted barrier. Now Sheyreza felt as if she faced the same threat, only the barrier of blades she faced moved with her as she danced.

As she fought, pain spread like fire through Sheyreza’s arm and shoulder. Her sword seemed heavier, her armor seemed more confining and her feet seemed leaden. Her breath started coming in ragged gasps. The spider’s fangs had managed to deposit their venomous payload and she had been poisoned! Sheyreza winced as she tried to fend off the furious assault that was pushing her back, away from the temple doors. Fear overcame her resolve and she withdrew from the tide of flailing, screeching spiders. The deadly swarm tried to pursue but Sheyreza made herself invisible. Quickly, she quaffed healing potions from the vials she stored in her sash. As she drank the magical elixirs she felt pain turn to itching as her wounds began to close. The pain of the poison remained, however, and she had no potion to cure it. She would simply have to bear whatever effects the venom might bring.

Having lost contact with their now invisible prey, the sword spiders turned on the temple itself. With their blade-legs they hammered on the great double doors. Arcs of energy from the temple’s barrier of light answered the blows. Sword spiders were burned in place or blasted from the temple-mound altogether, but the swarm did not relent. Furiously they attacked the door and its glowing barrier.

Sheyreza watched for a moment, fascinated. The temple was defending itself. Had the Chosen’s defense been a foolish vanity? Why had they sacrificed so many lives defending a barrier that could defend itself? Then Sheyreza noticed that with each arc of energy the barrier let loose, the barrier as a whole dimmed. Apparently its ability to defend itself was a finite resource. Given enough spiders or other attackers, the barrier would eventually fade to nothing and that, Sheyreza presumed, would signal the end of its defensive and protective abilities. She realized now that the barrier’s energy was a last line of defense. If it should fall, the temple would be open to attackers.

The pain in her arms grew and Sheyreza knew the poison was weakening her. Her sword arm felt stiff, her armor tight and she realized she was swelling up. She could not simply stand by and watch the temple fall, however. Though the barrier seemed perfectly capable of killing sword spiders, it had become obvious the barrier would not last forever. Sheyreza picked up her sword again, struggling with the weight, and rushed into flank the attacking monsters.

In just moments the arachnid tide, which had seemed unstoppable, was broken. The few sorely wounded spiders left alive fled west across the Cavern of Song into the dark like a receding wave. Once again Sheyreza stood alone on the steps of the temple, though now she stood amidst not just the smouldering bodies of her fellow Chosen, but amongst the remains of the sword spider swarm. All about her giant arachnids lay still, their once deadly legs curled up in death, their bodies smoking from where the temple’s energy had burned them or dripping black ichor from where Sheryeza’s blade had found its mark. The swarm had been defeated.

Sheyreza examined the barrier. It had lost some of its brilliance, but it was still glowing. Though familiar with spellcraft, Sheyreza could not determine to what extent the barrier had been damaged. She would have to trust in Qilue’s magic. All things considered, there were far worse things to trust in.

A lone figure walked out of the darkness to the west. Sheyreza could see it was a male drow, but she did not recognize him. He carried a staff, so it was easy to presume he was a wizard of some sort. Given that he was walking openly towards the temple-mound, it was also easy to presume he had come to parlay. Though Sheyreza was not a true student of Savva, like most drow raised in her world, her mind was prone to quickly analyzing situations and possible courses of action and reaction. It would then, just as quickly, act upon that analysis. At the moment, Sheyreza could not imagine what there might be to parlay about with this male. The enemy clearly wanted into the temple and they were not likely to settle for anything less. This meant the only thing they might offer the temple defenders is a chance to escape. Abandoning the temple was simply not an option however.

The lone male smirked as he approached Sheyreza. “Stand aside or die.” He opened his mouth to say something more, but Sheyreza had, like a good savva player, already thought out all the possible moves, countermoves and scenarios. She had determined there was nothing to be gained from talking to this man so she answered him with a blow from her sword.

The blade slashed the man across the face. Only the male’s protective spells saved his life, reducing what would have been a fatal blow to a simple wound. Eyes wide with shock, he quickly intoned a spell and a ray of arcane energy fired from his hands but he missed Sheyreza’s dancing form. The nimble priestess pressed her attack and the mage began running. He stopped long enough to cast a spell and Sheyreza felt a wave of magical energy pass over her. Like all drow, she had been born with a natural resistance to spells, and now that resistance saved her. The magical energy passed her by without harm. She swung on the mage again and he ran.

Still weak from the poison, Sheyreza could not keep up with the unarmored mage. With some distance between them, he turned and cast another spell. Again magical energy washed over Sheyreza and again it passed her by harmlessly. She smiled as she ran at the male, her sword swinging into him. His defensive spells saved him, but both of them knew those spells would not last forever. A spray of magic missles leapt from the wizard’s hands and struck the priestess but they passed through her without effect. Sheyreza smiled and attacked.

“Bitch!” The mage snarled as he turned to flee from her blade.

The poison kept Sheyreza from keeping up the chase. She paused to down a potion of speed and then resumed her pursuit. The mage had run past the two gazebos and had reached the cluster of buildings on the western side of the cavern. There, he turned south and ran down a narrow street. Sheyreza followed.

Turning the corner she saw the mage standing a few yards away casting yet another spell. A small ball of fire appeared in his hands and then shot towards her. It was the same kind of fiery ball whose explosion had claimed the lives of so many of the temple’s defenders. Sheyreza’s eyes went wide. There was nowhere on the narrow street to hide and no way she could out run the spell. Instinctively, one hand slid to her sash and palmed a healing vial. With a growl she grit her teeth and charged headlong into the approaching ball of fire.

The flaming spark of arcane energy struck her and blossomed into a raging inferno. The blast easily encompassed the building fronts on either side of the street and set them alight. For a moment it seemed as if the mage had called down the sun itself onto the streets of the Promenade and Sheyreza was lost in its fire.

***

The mage allowed himself a smile. That dancing, moon-worshipping bitch might slough off his other, lesser spells, but there was no way she would simply walk through the hell he now wrought. As a student of the metamagic arts, the mage knew how to empower a spell to make it deadlier, larger, and simply more powerful. The fireball that had consumed the ranks of Chosen upon the temple-mound had been such an empowered spell, and so too was the blast the mage now unleashed upon Sheyreza. If it was good enough to kill a dozen, it was good enough to kill one.

His smile was short lived. As the white hot flare of the fireball faded from yellow to orange he could see the silhouette of a figure running out of the flames. Eyes wide, the mage watched in disbelief as the slender, seemingly delicate, drowess emerged from his spell-wrought inferno with her sword in hand. The words to another spell were already forming on his lips and his fingers moved in sequence, but fear now gripped his black heart. The bitch, with her wild, mismatched red and blue eyes was still coming despite receiving half his arsenal of evocations.

A spray of magic missles fired from the mage’s hand and struck the charging priestess to no avail. Her sword came down and the mage took the blow hard, nearly coming off his feet. He knew the only things saving him were his protective spells which made his skin as hard as stone and resistant to the darkfire on her blade. Still, each blow hurt and he this one drew blood. How? Her blows were not that strong but they wounded him none the less. He had no time to ponder the mystery. The blade-slinging bitch was all over him.

He backpedaled and cast another spell, this one summoning forth a ray of fire. It struck the prietess but failed to penetrate the spell wards she had in place. Her sword came down upon the mage again and he realized he was growing short on spells and his protections were weakening. Someone else, or something else, would have to kill this stupid whore. The mage turned and fled, Sheyreza’s sword at his back. He was deep into the passages outside the Cavern of Song before he realized she was no longer chasing him.

Yes, that stupid whore had to die, but he might have to leave that pleasure for the Yathtallar, the high priestess, as much as that galled him. The thought of what his mistress had in store for the Promenade made him smile and gave him some comfort. How he would love to see that stupid moon-loving whore’s face when she saw the Yathtallar’s surprise. That alone would alleviate some of the injury his pride had just suffered. Of course, if that whore could be taken alive, then he could alleviate all the indignity she had caused him to suffer, and then some. With a barely audible chuckle, the mage walked back to where his mistress was waiting for him. Perhaps he could, indeed, arrange to have that bitch taken alive. The thought pleased him to end.

***

Sheyreza staggered into an empty doorway and quaffed another healing potion. Between the magic elixirs and her own divine spells she had been able to heal the burns the mage had inflicted. None of the healing, however, alleviated the weakness she was suffering as a result of the sword spider’s poison. She cast another spell, this one calling for more divine strength. It worked to a small extent. Though not as strong as she was when healthy, she was strong enough to move normally under the weight of her armor. She stayed still, waiting, her ears straining for any noise that might betray the return of the mage or of his allies. Minutes passed and she heard nothing but the soft crackle of flames from down the street.

Resting in the door allowed her to catch her breath if not her strength. Her throat burned with thirst. When was the last time she had any water? Before she entered reverie? That must have been twelve hours ago at least. Since then she had fought in battle, run through fire and was now choking on the smoke of the fires lit by the mage’s spells. She remembered she had food in her satchel. One hand slipped into the soft leather bag and felt around for her rations. Her fingers found something springy and tough; a strip of dried rothe meat. She pulled it out and began gnawing on it desperately. She had almost no saliva making swallowing difficult and painful. Still, the meat restored some of her energy.

Waiting in this dark doorway forever was not an option, however, as much as she might like it to be. Simply hoping the enemy would pass her by was foolish to say the least. The temple might be the enemy’s focus now, but as soon as it fell, all those remaining would be hunted down and slain or enslaved shortly thereafter. It was time to make her way back.

Slowly, she leaned out of the doorway and peered down the ruined avenue. Bright orange flames licked up the sides of building fronts near where the mage’s fireball had exploded. Thick, sooty smoke decorated by tiny glowing embers rose from the fires and blocked out sight of the cavern roof. Sheyreza knew the portals to the plane of elemental air would eventually allow the smoke to escape, but for the moment, it was choking her down here in the street. She coughed and spit out a mass of blackened flem spreckled with red blood. There was no sign of the enemy in either direction. She faded back into the doorway and cast another protective spell. Raising her sword she then sang out a prayer to Eilistraee to ask the Goddess’ blessing and she felt a bit of the Lady’s power surge through her.

Bolstered with the favor of her goddess, Sheyreza emerged from the shadows and made her way past the burning section of street. From there, she headed towards the two gazebos. She watched every window, every door, every ruined wall and every shadow along the way. Though she had driven them off, both the mage and the black clad archer had escaped her sword. Either could be hiding along her path, and both were deadly. If they were together and found her alone she doubted she would last very long at all.

No spell or arrow interrupted her movement past the burning buildings and down the otherwise abandoned streets. At the gazebos she turned to look back on the approaches she and Gryndal had watched earlier. Poisoned and alone, Sheyreza did not linger as she had when Gryndal was by her side. Cautiously, she made her way across the Cavern of Song.

To the east Sheyreza could see movement atop the temple-mound. Her sight was partially obscured by the smoke rising from burning bodies and the glow of the great statue of Eilistraee. She moved faster now and tried to discern who was standing before the temple. Had Akordia returned with reinforcements?

A bulbuous, eight-legged, black shape topped by the torso and head of a drow appeared through the sooty haze answering Sheyreza’s question. These were not reinforcements, these were driders and they were undoubtedly tools of the enemy. They had slipped into the cavern through the north entrance while Sheyreza had lingered near the south one. Three of the half-drow, half-spider centaur like creatures stood before the glowing doors of temple. All of them faced the cracked and besieged edifice. From her vantage point below the temple-mound, Sheyreza could not tell precisely what they were doing but she could guess just the same; they were trying to breach the barrier. Sheyreza broke into a trot as she headed for the base of the mound. There was little left in her arsenal but the same twist of fate that allowed the driders to slip past Sheyreza unseen was also allowing her to catch the monsters by surprise. With her off hand, Sheyreza pulled her holy symbol out from under her breast plate. She had a little surprise for these abominations.

She came up behind the center drider and struck at its spinnerets with her sword. The black blade bit through the spider-creature’s carapace with a sickening crunch and foul ichor flowed from the wound. The wound was not a large or deep as Sheyreza would have liked and the spinneret did not look as damaged as she would have hoped. Despite her spells, she was still weak from the poison.

Silken webbing fired from the creature’s spinneret. Sheyreza had not disabled it. She was prepared though and dodged easily, letting the stream of sticky webbing pass over her shoulder. She struck again at the monster but it spun away, its eight hairy legs moving with obscene speed and dexterity. The drow head atop its elf-like torso let loose a stream of heavily accented curses, catching the attention of the other two driders. Seeing an immediate threat they left off their attack on the barrier and descended to attack Sheyreza.

Perfect. She held forth her holy symbol and called down the strength of her goddess to strike these horrors like a hammer. As the mishappen monstrosities rushed towards their diminuitive prey, they did not realize they were rushing right into the area of her spell. A bolt of divine light, sound and force struck the temple-mound from the ceiling above. One drider managed to quickly scuttle aside but the other two were caught in the blast. Sheyreza could see the drider on her left staggering, blood flowing from its nose and ears, its eyes dialated and wandering. The center monster immediately before her was bleeding from its ears as well, but its eyes were focused and filled with murder. It came at Sheyreza with a longsword, slashing wildly. Sheyreza turned the creature’s blade out and struck back cutting a gash along its elf-like abdomen. To her right, the creature that had dodged her blast conjured a spell and let loose a blast of arcane energy. There was no time to figure out what the creature was casting, so Sheyreza just dodged.

The wounded drider before her began scuttling sideways, angling for another attack. Sheyreza had taken the creature’s measure now. It was big, fast and strong, but it was not skilled. She shifted her feet, feinted left then ran up the slope to the right. Just as she made the crest of the mound she jumped, spun half left and brough her sword around in an arc. The blow took the drider’s head off and its decapitated corpse rolled down the mound, its grotesque spider legs curling up beneath its disgusting body.

Sheyreza’s attack had left her open, however. The second drider rushed her and she found herself fighting desperately. Suddenly a bolt passed through the creature’s neck. It staggered for a moment, a look of utter shock and disbelief crossing its face. Both elf-hands reached up to the wound but there was nothing it could do to stop the bleeding. The wound was fatal. Couging up black blood, it fell amidst the smouldering bodies before the temple steps. As it fell, Sheyreza saw Gryndal standing behind it, crossbow in hand, smiling. His nimble fingers were already loading another bolt. His eyes met Sheyreza’s for a moment, and then looked to her left with a slight nod.

The third drider was just now recovering from her spell. It summoned a torrent of magic missles but Sheyreza resisted them and set upon the beast with her sword while Gryndal fired crossbow bolts into the drider’s bulbuous belly. The monster scuttled backwards trying again and again to bring down its attackers with magic. Sheyreza, using no finesse at all, simply hacked the horrid abomination to pieces and sent its ruined, bolt-riddled corpse sliding down the blood slickened slope.

Gryndal and Sheyreza stood before the temple’s steps, weapons in hand, and looked for more enemies. There was nothing but the smouldering bodies laying all about the temple and the distant fires in the ruined buildings. Shereza pulled a rag out from her satchel and wiped the black drider ichor from her blade.

Gryndal looked back at the temple, but Sheyreza was more worried about her sister. “How is Butterfly?”

“She is resting.”

Sheyreza could see the concern and confusion on Gryndal’s face. “Gryndal...each wave attacks the barrier.” She pointed to the glowing wall that enshrouded the temple doors. It was still dazzling, but its power had clearly diminished since the driders attacked it. “We must not let them bring it down.”

Gryndal’s brow furrowed. “But there was fighting inside.”

“If there is anyone in the Promenade that can handle themselves, its Qilue and Iljrene.” Sheyreza looked the temple over. Glowing red cracks covered its once smooth stone surfaces like some sort of abyssal marbling. Clearly the temple was under great strain, and just as clearly, Qilue had done everything she could to see to it the temple was not breached. “I do not think we need to get in there. I think we just need to defend the temple.”

Something on the ground near where the driders had been slain caught Sheyreza’s attention. It was a partially burned scroll. Carefully she picked it up and examined it. Though the exact spell was unfamiliar to her, the nature of the spell was clear.

“They are each equipped with dispelling scrolls.” She announced. “But they are more powerful than I can master, or possibly just alien to me.” She looked out at the cavern. If more came, how long could they hold? Her strength, physical, mental and spiritual, was nearly drained. “I do not have many spells left. We must do the best we can to hold out.”

Gryndal said nothing. He simply held his crossbow at the ready and scanned for the enemy across the smoke filled cavern. What else was there to do? Sheyreza sheathed her sword and readied her own bow. Her right shoulder was still swelling from the poison and felt ready to burst from her armor. She bit back the pain and forced herself to move the arm around in circles. A bow was useless if she did not have two working arms.

From the north a line of figures emerged from the smoky gloom, snaking their way between smouldering drow corpses and curled up drider bodies. Sheyreza saw Akordia at their lead. Reinforcements had finally come. A line of a dozen protectors and acolytes scaled the slope of the temple-mound to reach its two remaining defenders.

Sheryeza looked to the new arrivals and waved her hand across the crest of the ridge. “Spread out. There is a mage fond of fireballs out there. I chased him off, but I was unable to finish him.” She knew she should have offered something more uplifting, but simple directions to save their lives would be more useful. And Sheyreza was just too tired to try and inspire them.

Akordia approached her. “This is all we can spare.”

What a ridiculous sentiment. Sheyreza thought. “All we can spare? If the temple falls, we all fall.”

The young, pretty acolyte blinked at Sheyreza’s rebuke but kept her composure and held her ground. “The rest of the caverns have been atatcked. Just enough to keep the rest of the garrison at the other points.”

“Without the temple and its High Priestess, the rest of the garrison will get mopped up.” Sheyreza felt as though she was talking to a child. Could this girl not see the reality of the situation?

“We cant just abandon everyone else! Everyone we can is being moved to the Hall of Healing.” The strain of the battle was audible in Akordia’s voice as it rose. Sheyreza knew this was not a situation the young acolyte had been trained for. She was clearly doing the best she could under difficult circumstances. Unfortunately, she was a kind soul with a good heart and her thoughts, even her battle plans, were tempered with mercy. Akordia would spread the remaining warriors about in an effort to save everyone, and in so doing, save no one. The prudent thing to do would be to mass the remaining warriors for a defense of the temple. Yes, the wounded would be left defenseless, but if the temple and Qilue fell, everyone would die anyway.

Of course, sacrificing the wounded to save those who could be saved required a sense of purpose, a ruthless determination to survive, and a cold heart. Sheyreza could do it, but she could clearly see that Akordia could not.

And perhaps that was for the best.

Death was ultimately inevitable. Had Sheyreza not been taught that how she died was everybit as important as how she lived? Though she served Lady Silverhair now, not the Spider Queen, did Eilistraee care any less about how Sheyreza chose to meet her doom? Was it not better to go to the afterlife in pursuit of those ideals your goddess held dear rather than to sacrifice everything necessary to scratch out another day in this life? What was the point of that? Death was inevitable. Scratch out one more day in this life, and in one more day death will be coming for you. Eventually, everyone had to take that next step. Best to do it in the manner your goddess wished.

Sheyreza looked away from Akordia. “If the temple falls, everyone else will be killed shortly thereafter, but yes, consolidate all the others in one place and guard them as well as you can.” She looked back to Akordia and smiled slightly. They would not leave the wounded unguarded.

The acolyte’s voice was small now, weary. “All the civilians,” she paused and looked out on the burning buildings to the west. “It’s hard, they’re attacking them specifically.”

The enemy knew the folk of the Promenade well. Attack the civilians of Menzoberranzan or Ched Nasad, and all you do is waste time and energy. Attack the civilians here, and you force the defenders to spread themselves out too thin. More importantly, you also break their hearts and maybe their morale.

She pointed to the west. “Evacuate all the homes, move everyone to one place that can be defended.”

Akordia headed west with one of the protectors, traveling quickly to deliver Sheyreza’s orders. All the wounded, all the civilians, all the guests, everyone, would be gathered in the Hall of Healing save for those who defended the temple. These would be their two strong points; the Hall of Healing in the northwest part of the cavern, and the temple-mound in the east. Sheyreza was well aware that the two positions were too far apart to easily support each other but there was no option. The wounded and the children could not be easily moved and there was no better place for them to go anyway. Indeed, perhaps the distance between the Hall of Healing and the temple would actually work to their advantage by keeping the wounded and civilians out of the line of attack.

Sheyreza knew they could not hold out against this enemy forever. While the temple was now defended by a dozen protectors and acolytes, more than three times that number had already fallen in battle. The enemy, on the other hand, had lost mostly spiders. A few driders had been killed as well, but not one enemy drow had fallen beneath the Chosen’s blades yet. The enemy was not through with them, and Sheyreza knew the worst was yet to come. Though they could not hold out forever, perhaps, Maiden willing, they would be able to hold out long enough for Qilue to finish doing whatever it was she was doing inside the temple and then join the fight. With Qilue behind them, the Chosen could face almost any enemy.

If Qilue did not return soon, however, they were not going to last. Half a day had passed, maybe more. Another 12 hours like this and Sheyreza doubted anyone would be left standing to guard the doors. Another whole day like this and Sheyreza knew there would be no one left standing. Qilue had to return soon, or the Promenade was going to fall.

[Killthorne]

Love it Mikayla!!!

~Killthorne~

[Zakharra]

Very good Mikayla.