In the Failing Light

Good writing, Kally. You really know how to evoke visual and tactile senses. Not to mention my stomach is heaving in sympathy. Poor Sel.

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Arbrah Taughe, 82 drakkin druid - EQ Luclin
Rayha, 43 ratonga necro - EQ2 Guk (retired)
Raydiance, 57 high elf templar - EQ2 Guk (retired)

www.fantasyfic.com

Poor Sel...Hope Kally con save his hide soon.

Wink

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"Love makes the wildest spirit tame, and the tamest spirit wild."

Mistress Freahya DeKurgan
67 - "The Warrior Goddess"
The Rathe Server - EQ
*sig thanks to Xenith*

"Do you know what to do, Kally?"

"It's not that difficult a concept, Lore." She craned her neck back as far as she could. The massive spidery automaton before her had no eyes that Kallysti could find, especially not in the darkness of the underground. It also didn't help that her own disguise was a mere fraction of his size. "I'm the distraction. I got it. I go out first and make my way as far from Drath's old home as I can. Then I sound the alarm. Um." Something did suddenly occur to her. "I just do that by screaming and it'll make the right sound?"

"That was my original concept behind the watchers," Drath answered. "Scream as loud as you can. Er, once you're in place."

Kallysti nodded, then she wondered if they could tell she nodded. "All right then, I'm ready."

"Ladies first," Drath said.

The going was slow. As she left the dark tunnels became washed-out sunlit grass, Kallysti looked down at her feet. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. Though in her head it felt as if she walked normally, the illusion showed her multiple needle-like legs moving in a blur. Her stomach flopped over inside and she had to pause. If I throw up will it look like little springs and gears? She almost laughed at the thought and, feeling a little better, decided that she was just going to pretend she was walking and not look down again.

As she made her way towards the caved-in valley to the Lesser Faydark, she looked around the broad mountain valley. Shapes and forms were different under this illusion; they were more vibrant, more detailed. Drath had called this mechanism a "watcher" and the name seemed to fit. She felt like she could see everything at once if she tried. It was the same type of little clockwork device that their party had first encountered at the Steamfont druid rings. According to Drath, her scream, the scream of a watcher, would bring every clockwork within listening distance running to her.

"What happens when they get to me?" she had asked.

It didn't matter, Drath had explained. He said the other clockworks would get to her and swarm around until they found something to destroy or until another alarm sounded. Loreat and Drath intended to be the source of a second alarm.

As she neared the pile of rocks that blocked the path leading beyond the Steamfont Mountains, Kallysti's super-powered clockwork eyes saw something out of place: a mess of footprints and there, half buried in the dirt...Swiftwind. The lightning that usually crackled down the longsword was gone, disappeared without its owner's grasp. Sel...

Kallysti screamed.

Poor neglected little forum...I'll post for you! Very Happy

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Drazharr dumped his prisoner beside a charred stump near the Knowledge portal. Damned wood elf is heavier than he looks. He took a deep breath; the charnal scent of the Faydark's foggy air tickled in his nostrils and reminded him of his home in Nektulos.

"Teeni, I want you to..." He looked around. There was noone nearby, not even the warty bulk of his troll accomplice or her pet alligator. Drazharr cursed, soft and colorful, in the Dark Speech. Reaching into a pouch at his belt, he pulled out a handful of bone chips. He threw them onto the ground and chanted an animation spell. The skeletal construct that emerged was much weaker than Teeni's animal companion but it would have to do. He pointed to the ground beside the prisoner. "Guard."

"Yes, Master," the skeleton replied.

Untying the rope from around the ranger's neck, Drazharr whipped the burlap sack from his prisoner's head. "Welcome home," he said, watching his prisoner for any flicker of emotion. Nothing but a burning hatred to rival his own stared back at the shadowknight. Perhaps Selquinn needed more time and a tour of the area to better feel the full effect of Kelethin's blackened remains. Warily, Drazharr watched a moment longer, noting with satisfaction that the bonds held, even as the cords of his captive's neck stood out in strained effort.

"Hey, you there!" Drazharr turned to see the flapping robes of another dark elf running towards him. By the twisted, yellowed staff and stained garments, he guessed the man to be a necromancer. "All prisoners must be taken to the front. Now."

"No. This one is..."

"No exceptions." A fearsome spectre appeared out of the mist behind the man.

So, not just a necromancer, Drazharr thought despairingly, but a powerful defiler of Innoruuk. He sighed, sensing his argument would be futile. "But you don't understand..."

A sharp screaming, almost too high-pitched for normal hearing, severed their conversation like a razor sharp blade. "What was that?" Both Tier'dal spun around, searching for the source. A second scream, twin to the first, answered them. This one sounded much nearer. Drazharr winced.

"Felwithe," the necromancer whispered. He took the shadowknight by his armor-plated arm. "Come on."

Drazharr's eyes flicked to Selquinn, still bound and gagged on the forest floor. "But..."

"Leave it. Someone else will take care of him."

Drazharr shook his head. True, he felt the pull to aid the dark elves. As one of Hate's sacred knights, it was his duty but if he left the ranger here, he felt sure he'd never see him again. Not to mention he'd been charged by the Dark Prince himself to... Something jabbed at him through the neck joint of his armor. He turned to see the necromancer's spectre construct hovering above him. "Leave it," the man repeated.

Muttering through his gritted teeth, Drazharr followed the other dark elf. At least his own skeletal pet would stay behind, following its last command until either it died or its master did. But even in his weakened state, the prisoner could probably still dispatch the construct with his bare hands. All Drazharr could do was pray the bonds held until his return.

When they reached the path leading towards Felwithe, Drazharr and his "escort" encountered several other dark elves running in the opposite direction.

An elder Tier'dal in pristine blue robes stopped them. "Where are you going?"

"We heard the call, Mistress," the necromancer answered. "Felwithe..."

"It isn't Felwithe that attacks."

"Then what..."

She pointed towards the Steamfont Mountains. Following her finger, Drazharr saw the flickers of fire and the multi-hued shimmer of spellcasting. "The clockworks have broken through..."

Selquinn couldn't move. The moment the dark elf whelp had removed the blindfold from his eyes, an impotent, crimson rage had built to overflowing, rendering him blind as well as immobile. Not even the death of his parents, killed before his eyes as a child had impacted with as crushing a force as the destruction of his home.

Home. Home was not a strong enough word for the shelter, the comfort, the warmth of the second mother that the Faydark had been to him all his life. Boiling wrath bubbled over, its fire coating his skin. The desecration of this, the sacrosanct temple of the Fier'dal, would not go unanswered...

His eyes narrowed. Remaining frozen on the ground like a startled deer was not going to accomplish anything. The dark elf boy was gone, leaving him under the laughable guard of his fragile pet. Selquinn took a deep breath, the fouled air coating his lungs with its liquid stench. The familiar chittering of the clockworks had grown nearer. Time grew short. The ropes at his wrists were already pulled taut in his fury, it was only a matter of rubbing them against the rough root of the charred tree at his back until enough strands split. The bonds gave out quickly.

As he stood, the first of the clockworks came racing out of the mist and into view. He backed up against the massive tree trunk, rubbing at his bleeding wrists. Damned if he was going to die here, now, like this! His vengeance hadn't even begun...

The sea of automatons swarmed over the shadowknight's guarding skeleton, turning the construct to bone dust in a heartbeat. Then every last one scuttled past the slender figure of the ranger, pressed against the rough tree bark in fighting stance. Stunned, he turned to watch them disappear in the direction of Felwithe.

Something tapped at his foot. Looking down, he saw that not every one of the clockworks had passed him by. A tiny metal creation like the one they'd seen at the Steamfont druid rings seemed to be staring up at him, the disks atop its head spinning madly. Another, about Selquinn's height, suddenly appeared beside him. As he watched, both shimmered and transformed before his eyes.

"Sel!" Kallysti wrapped her arms around him tightly.

He returned the embrace as if in a dream. "What...what is this?"

"My army," Loreat replied from his other side. "Well, mine and Drath's. Hold on a minute." The enchanter muttered a spell under his breath and both he and Kallysti's forms shimmered once more, settling into wood elves. "Safer this way," he said. "The clockworks are under orders to destroy any Tier'dal in the vicinity, don't want them getting confused. Plus, it'll help at our next destination."

"Where's that?"

"Felwithe." Loreat grinned, the effect was not entirely sane. "You want this island liberated or what?"

Selquinn nodded, the eradication of Innoruuk's forces was only the beginning, though. "You have no idea," he answered.

"Then let's get moving."

Drazharr drew a deep, hitching breath and shifted the heavy greatsword into a slightly more comfortable position. His shoulders ached. A small pile of metal limbs and bodies lay at his feet and he kicked the latest casualty towards its base. The groans of the injured and dying drifted on the air as a nearby cleric scrambled amongst them.

He and about a dozen others had been instructed to fight their way through the pass to Steamfont and hold off as many as they could on the other side. They were the first line of defense. The most expendable, he thought bitterly. He lost track of how long they'd been fighting, of how many metallic constructs he'd engaged while hundreds more swarmed past him and into the Faydark.

Now in this, the first lull since this insane battle had begun, the young shadowknight finally had time to think. Why had the clockworks decided to suddenly break through, here and now? And, by Innoruuk, how could there be so many? And that damn ranger has surely escaped by now. He snarled in frustration.

"Get ready," someone said behind him. The cleric muttered an arcane word and a renewed vigor energized Drazharr's tired limbs.

"Oh, gods, look at that!"

"That last wave must have just been their quicker forces. These are..."

"...huge."

Drazharr grunted. "They're only clockworks, they'll..." He trailed off as he saw what the far-seeing spellcasters had. A wall of churning limbs filled the washed-out valley and reached up into the pale sky. It amost seemed one impossibly gigantic entity but his mind would not accept that. The rumble of their (its?) approach rattled the teeth in his skull. No way could they ever survive this. Even Innoruuk's elite would be hard pressed to...

He tightened his grip, raising his massive sword and readying a spell to drain his first target's lifeforce into him. It wouldn't be enough but it was all he had. The shaking in his arms was now more than the vibration of the earth under his feet.

There was a panicked cry in the Dark Speech followed by an intense flash of light and the clockworks were gone.

Drazharr blinked. The deafening silence and heavy serenity that suddenly spun around him brought the shadowknight to his knees. "What..." He looked around. A calm sea reflected the stars above and the...Norrathian planet? Were they on Luclin? Somewhere else? "Where am I? What in the name of..."

"Not very familiar with evacuation spells, are we?" a scathing female voice asked from behind him.

An evacuation spell, of course. He sheathed the greatsword in the scabbard on his back. Heat rose to his cheeks and he answered, "No." There were only a few places an evac could have taken them, too. Most wizard portal spells were much more complicated.

"We were about to be trampled into the dust. A trip to the Twilight Sea seemed most prudent. Now," the wizard stepped forward, "to Nektulos."

"But what about Felwithe?"

The elder Tier'dal stopped in mid-cast. "Would you like a translocation - just yourself, mind you - back to the Greater Faydark? I can do that. It would be suicide but that's up to you. I'd rather we all went back to Neriak to get this reported as soon as possible, before all of Faydwer is lost."

"Yes, I mean...no, I don't want to go back to the Faydark. Not yet."

She nodded. "This invasion will most certainly be addressed. We will return. At most, it will only be a minor set back." Her casting resumed.

Drazharr gazed into the night sky, its peace in direct opposition to the turmoil within him. No, we won't lose. I can't allow it...

The tiny fire in the bedroom fireplace popped softly, the wood settling with a low, relaxed crackle. The cold, alabaster walls of the Felwithe castle reflected its peaceful glow. Kallysti stared into the sedately dancing flames; she'd lit it for comfort after she'd awoken and been unable to fall asleep again.

On the bed nearby, Selquinn slept like the dead. The destruction of his home had taken a terrible toll on the ranger, she could see it in his eyes ever since they found him. The sight, the very thought, that this blackened wasteland had once been the verdant home of his youth had shattered something deep inside him, she thought sadly. He was almost like the old days, when they'd first met: all he could talk of was vengeance and destruction, of meting out his returning gesture on Neriak. Though exhausted near collapse, still it had taken quite some time - and no small amount of Kallysti's coaxing - before he'd allowed himself to rest. And even more time after that before the nightmares had quieted...

She sighed a long, pent up breath. Today's victory was merely a skirmish won but at least they'd won. In fact, she wondered as she continued to watch the low flames, what was this blow doing to Innoruuk's hold? How strongly did an effect such as this one in the mortal realm have on the higher planes? Was Tunare feeling this somehow?

Meditative trance began to wash over her slowly, gently numbing the flesh and sharpening her mind. All clerics - all priests of any kind - learned how to do this early on in their training and even though Kallysti no longer called herself one, this lesson could not be unlearned. If nothing else, it eased her strung nerves.

All priests also learned how to call to their deity, to send a message. These messages were rarely answered but all petitioners believed themselves heard, they'd hardly be priests if they believed otherwise. This gave her an idea. She let the trance deepen; while she definitely didn't want to call to her own former deity, perhaps she could reach another. Surrounded so completely by Tunare's followers, perhaps the goddess would hear her. Holding her spirit by an unbreakable string, the way she'd been taught so long ago, she cast her thoughts to the Mother of All...

Almost immediately, she felt a shocked response but the presense was not one she expected.

"You. What brings your spirit here to my realm, Tier'dal?" The hushed baritone voice was cautious but accusation threatened beneath his curiosity.

Flustered by the unknown entity, Kallysti only stammered within her own mind, "I...I don't...I was trying to reach another..."

"Your god is not hidden, nor is he difficult to reach. Yet I sense you are avoiding him, that you are not among your own kind but disguised amongst mine. This is why I chose to answer." His voice had grown stronger, disgust and anger no longer hidden.

"I..." Kallysti hestitated. "I was searching for Tunare. To tell her that..."

Further surprise pressed down around her as he answered, "Not even I can find her anymore. She is unreachable." The pause weighed heavily before he added with greater revulsion, "As I have been for far too long. Begone, Tier'dal. I do not trust your presense here any longer."

The push he gave might as well have been physical and Kallysti felt herself tipped sideways. Spinning nausea gripped her but she was caught before she reached the floor.

"Kal," Selquinn whispered, "are you all right?" She nodded, sitting up and holding her head with both hands. Fortunately for her, the god had been greatly weakened. That could have been much worse. "I tried to wake you. I know it's dangerous to do that when you're like that but..."

"I'm fine." She turned to face him. Heavy shadows gave him a haunted look as he studied her in return.

"You know, I really don't like this wood elf illusion on you. Is that good or bad?"

"Good," she answered, smiling slightly. "Because I hate it. Sel," she swallowed thickly, "Sel, just now? I tried to reach Tunare."

His brows knit together. "And?"

"I couldn't. But another reached me."

"Another? You don't mean..."

Taking one of his hands in hers, she shook her throbbing head delicately. "No, it wasn't Innoruuk. It was...well, in this place, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but Sel, I think...I think I reached..." She couldn't say it: racial instinct screamed that she would be immolated for even speaking the god's name...as she'd heard stories of shadowknights bursting into flames when they foolishly tried to touch his blessed weapons.

"Kally, are you trying to tell me that...that Mithaniel Marr spoke to you?"

She winced at the name of the paladin god but nodded. "And I think I have an idea what we were sent here to do..."