“So. Let me know if I got anything wrong.” Uther said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His heart was pounding, his mind racing. “A squad of drow assassins struck in the early morning, kidnapping Lyssia.” He shouldn’t have left. Or he should have taken Lyssia with him. Or made sure she had people guarding her. “Eyla got injured, and Freidrich took his squad with him into the underdark with meager supplies and no way of knowing how to find his way?” It was madness. Maybe if- If Anders had been here, he could have done something.
“That’s pretty much it, yes. I wasn’t informed they’d set off in pursuit until it was too late to talk them out of it. I’m sorry, Uther, but it’s a labyrinth down there. You know how it is. If we ever broke out into one of the tunnels down in the mines-” Johann placed a hand on Uther’s shoulder. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, Uther knew, but in these circumstances it didn’t really help.
“I’m going after them.”
Johann flinched slightly. “Uther, you can’t be serious. You know as well as me how many people have been lost down there.”
“All due respect, Johann. We aren’t the same people we were back when the emperor had collars around our necks. We have friends now. People who can do Magic. We aren’t helpless slaves anymore.”
Johann nods, slowly, his doubts plain on his face. “True, but we don’t know the layout of the deep, and as far as I know we don’t have anyone with some sort of navigational magic.”
“We don’t need one. Anders can have his undead scout out the tunnels. With help from Yvonne, we can explore the underdark rapidly.”
Johann sighed. “Uther, it’s madness. We’re grasping at straws here.”
Uther looked the regent straight in the eyes.
“I’m going. I’m not leaving her down there, no matter the cost.”
“That was what I was afraid of.” Johann nodded. “Well then. Go talk to Fidget and Carl in the workshop. I hear our little genius has made progress regarding the dwarf’s blasting powder that may come in useful to you down there. Just promise me one thing. Bring our people back, and for goodness’ sake don’t die.”
“You have my word.”
Lyssia stood with her back pressing towards a cold, stone wall.
She hadn’t been discovered yet, but even then her progress was hampered. Her foot pulsated with pain, even after she had removed the worst of the glass and wrapped a ripped-off sleeve around it as a makeshift bandage.
And to make matters worse, the exertion from moving around so much had her mind spinning. She now knew for certain that she was ill. She hadn’t noticed until now, but it was flaring up and getting worse as time passed.
She needed to get out of the temple and find shelter fast. It had been about fifteen minutes since she had killed Drada, and she didn’t expect it’d take this long for alarm to be raised.
She pressed herself back onto her feet, and limped onwards. This was not a time for breaks.
Just before turning a corner, she paused for a second. She could hear feet drawing closer from the more well-lit corridor she was about to cross.
She pressed herself firmly against the wall, rendering herself as flat as her current state would allow, and held her breath, praying that she’d go unnoticed.
Then she could see her. It was the damn matron.
The old woman stepped out into view, walking on through the well lit corridor, completely ignorant of Lyssia’s presence in the shadows.
Lyssia’s hand moved down to her belt where drada’s dagger hung.
It would be so easy, sliding out behind that old witch and slitting her throat. Even sick and pregnant, the old crone couldn’t possibly have enough strength left in those withered old limbs to stop her.
She slowly drew her dagger, the curved steel sliding soundlessly from its’ scabbard.
She pulled it up, and was just about to commit to the attack when the old woman was followed into the light by a… human?
Odd.
The man was dressed in a ceremonial robe, but still wore the collar of a slave.
That wasn’t the only oddities. The inner chambers of this temple was only meant for the sisterhood, which meant males were very strictly forbidden entry. And then there was the fact that the man was human, of course, but he also looked very well fed and dressed.
All very… unusual.
And after him, another.
Eight human slaves passed by the corridor as Lyssia lurked in the dark.
She re-sheathed her dagger. She wasn’t intending to murder the old woman when there was such a major wild card in play.
What if the humans were loyal to the crone? Or if they’d attack Lyssia seeking the favour of the old wretch?
Either way, as much as it pained Lyssia that the old woman would live to see another day, she let the procession pass her by unharassed.
With all nine of them gone from view, Lyssia inched her way forwards, peeking around the corner, watching the backs of the humans as she listened for more potential threats.
Nothing.
She slipped through the lit corridor as swiftly and silently as her feet would allow, once more dipping into the shadows on the other side.
It wasn’t far, now.
If there was one thing helping her, it was that this building was old.
Very, very old.
There were hidden passages, escape routes, forgotten store rooms to be utilized if only one knew where to look.
She entered an old library.
Rows of musty tomes sat forgotten on several lines of bookshelves.
She remembered this place.
She had studied poisons in this hallowed hall of deadly knowledge. Learned of herbs to slay and cure.
And, her hand sliding along dusty books until she felt the leather-bound tome she sought, she had found much that few ever had known about.
If one was to pull, the book would come out and seem like any other musty book, but if one pushed… Click.
The book slid inwards just an inch.
Lyssia stepped back, and pulled on the corner of the bookshelf.
It slid out soundlessly, on ancient masterwork hinges.
She made way through the narrow gateway, pulling the bookshelf back into place behind her.
She finally allowed herself a breath of relief.
No one should know of this place.
She looked around. Dust lay undisturbed on the ground.
Good.
No one had been here, as she expected.
She pressed onwards, past the bones lining the walls. The entire passage was covered in the bones of its’ builders. It seemed whomever had commissioned the tunnel’s construction had gone to great lengths to ensure its’ secrecy.
Lyssia found the spiral staircase leading downwards, and held on to the old, rusted handrail that lined the left wall of the narrow descent.
The air grew humid, and Lyssia could hear the pouring of water further below.
Her escape was so close, now.
So close.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, and she felt the ground becoming cold and wet beneath her feet.
Everything was exactly like she remembered it.
The room she was standing in now had a low, vaulted roof, and most of the floor was made up out of a stream flowing in from the left, and onwards, out on the right side of the room.
It was an underground river.
Now all that remained was to let the river carry her out of here.
She strode into the water. Even if this failed, she at least denied those bastards the pleasure of taking her life, themselves. And spared her child whatever horrors to come after her passing.
The water was cold, and the current was strong. She started to shiver as she submerged more of her body, but she didn’t resist the water, letting go of the ground.
She took a deep breath, and swam with the current.
It was fast – very fast. Even though she could see perfectly clearly in the dark, she could tell that there was a complete absence of light down here. She was completely surrounded by stone and water.
Her lungs started to burn with the strain of holding her breath, and she had to fight the reflex of exhaling.
She was so close, now.
She had to be.
It couldn’t be long…
She felt her body being flooded with adrenaline, her muscles burning with desperation.
She had made the right decision, right? She hadn’t just condemned herself to a cold, airless death?
Her vision started to go dark.
Where was the end? Where was it?
Bubbles started to escape through her nose and corners of her mouth.
She had to be so close now, where was it? Where-
It was well past midday as Anders could see the outskirts of the city. It was a good thing neither he nor his mount had any real need of sleep or food or rest, else it would have taken maybe a day or so more to reach his destination.
He could see quite a few frightened people clearing the way for him as he came upon the streets of the city, though he was pleased to see that there was no real panic among the people.
Well. He could assume that the obviously dead state of the Dragon was a great boon. After all, it still had a big hole in its’ head, the wings were ripped to tiny chunks, and parts of its’ gut had been cut away to serve as emergency rations.
He could see Yvonne waiting for him in the city square.
The elven archmage smiled and waved at him, even if she seemed a bit nervous at the sight of his mount.
It felt good to have someone who seemed so happy to see him.
He could feel the gentle ‘knock’ of her powers, as she requested entry into his mind.
Anders nodded slightly, and then the connection was there. He could feel her warmth in his mind. It was a pleasant sensation.
”Welcome home”
Her words flowed into his mind.
”Thank you, Yvonne. What were the news on Lyssia and Eyla?”
A series of images and sensations, memories, flowed through their connection. Anders could remember it all as if he had been there.
The bloodshed on the streets of the city… The smell of infected flesh, the sensation of touching Eyla’s fevered forehead. Of Johann, and lastly of the conversation between the regent and Uther. Of the plan.
Anders nodded.
”Of course I’ll help.”
He could see Yvonne’s lips perk up in a small smile. ”And what of your hunt for the dragon? I can see it was successful. Can you show me what happened?”
Anders sighed, and recalled everything that occurred on the journey, leaving nothing out.
As he was done, Yvonne stared at him, pale and wide-eyed.
“Gods…”
Anders nodded. What he had remembered… about his past.
It was not good.
“I’m- I’m so sorry, Anders. I didn’t intend to-”
”No. I understand. I am not sure how to cope with it myself. Will you help me?”
“Of course. No matter what, I’m here for you.”
Anders nodded, letting her feel his relief.
He had been afraid she’d hate him for what he had been. For what he had remembered. But he wouldn’t lie to her. Lying would only serve to make everything so much worse.
“Whatever you were, you’re not that person anymore.”
”But what if I become him again? What if I remember everything I used to be, and who I am will turn back into that… beast?”
“No. I won’t let that happen.”
”If it ever comes to that, I hope that you can stop it. Thank you, Yvonne.”
He slipped off the undead dragon.
”Now… what does Uther need of me?”
Uther looked over his expedition. It was significantly larger than Fredrich’s had been, he knew.
Freidrich had taken his own command of five men with him down into the darkness.
Uther had nearly a hundred soldiers, several wagons, mules, an undead dragon, and two powerful mages. And nearly three dozen undead.
“Anders. I’ll be relying on you from now on.”
The necromancer nodded, and by an unspoken command his undead minions rushed ahead, to serve as scouts and as a vanguard for the Ashenvale force.
Uther nodded to them as Carl came down from the city.
The big blacksmith had a surly expression on his face as he sat at the head of a wagon filled to the brim with barrels.
“Well then. Let’s move.”