Bladesinger

Chapter 22

The Year of Wild Magic

(1372 DR)

She was gone.

Taen knelt on the hard stone floor of the bridge and wept silently. Tears just barely held in check glistened wetly around eyes red with grief. He had failed once again. His own deficiencies had once more caused harm to someone for whom he had cared deeply. It hadn't mattered that the Song had come to him like an old friend instead of a bitter enemy, strengthening his arm and bolstering his swordplay, rather than stealing his strength with the fear of its presence. The half-elf knew that he had stood on the threshold of everything that he had trained and striven for in his life-and it hadn't been enough.

He hadn't been enough.

Marissa was gone-likely dead-and their mission in shambles. The knot in his chest confirmed what he already knew in the cold, dispassionate part of his mind. It was his fault. He should have seen the danger from above, should have anticipated the attack. Instead, he had allowed himself to get so caught up in the joy of finding the doorway to his art that he hadn't even heard her scream for help.

Taen saw her in his mind's eye, her skin sallow and puffy from the spider venom, withdrawing into the darkness. In that moment, Marissa's face blurred, became the face of another woman, wrapped in burial silk instead of spider webbing-but just as dead.

He felt a hand rest gently upon his shoulder. "Borovazk is sorry, little friend," the ranger said, and Taen could hear the grief hanging heavy upon the Rashemi like a great gray burial stone, "but we must push on. Is not safe for us to remain on bridge."

Taen looked up at the ranger and felt himself nod at the warrior's words. The action felt foreign, different, like the movement of a stranger. It was as if the half-elf gazed upon his body from across a vast chasm, so that he was at the same time within and without himself.

A sound caught his attention-high pitched and pitiful. It took his divided consciousness a few moments to recognize that someone else was weeping. Surprise turned to anger as he turned to face the source of the sound. Yurz lay on the ground, rolling across the uneven stone and wailing. The goblin's spindly arms flailed in every direction as he gave voice to his grief.

Taen's grief transformed into rage at the sight of the pathetic creature. "You," he shouted, leaping to his feet. "You did this!"

The half-elf crossed the distance between them quickly, almost pouncing on the bereaved goblin. Grabbing Yurz by the scruff of the neck, he hoisted the goblin up in the air. The creature shouted in fright as he hung above the bridge, kicking his bare, misshapen feet in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Tell me why I shouldn't throw you off this bridge," Taen shouted. "Tell me!" He dangled the goblin over the black mouth of the chasm below. "You led us into a trap, you filthy spawn of a dung troll, and now Marissa has been taken."

"No!" the goblin screamed shrilly in protest. "Me no hurt Pretty Lady. Me friend. Not know why tribe here. Ugly One must have known." The goblin shook his head piteously.

"You lie," the half-elf hissed between clenched teeth.

His anger rose like a tidal wave within him, threatening to sweep away the last vestiges of his reason. Part of him knew that his rage at the hapless creature was misplaced, but he couldn't stop it; it exploded out of him like the fiery breath of a red dragon.

"Taen," he heard Roberc call out to him, "we have to go… now!" the halfling shouted.

He turned, still holding Yurz over the edge of the bridge, and saw both Borovazk and Roberc running toward the open door to the citadel's undertomb. They were right, of course; he didn't have time to vent his anger and grief on the treacherous goblin. If there was any chance of rescuing Marissa and making it out alive, they had to push on, yet he wanted nothing more than to slake his need for revenge. It would be so simple to just open his hand and watch Yurz tumble into the abyss below.

Taen knew that he wasn't thinking clearly, knew that at some level, he also hung over an abyss-one of his own making. At that moment, Yurz and he were linked. If he tossed the goblin into the chasm, he, too, would be lost forever.

What did it matter, Taen thought bitterly. Marissa. Talaedra. He always ended up destroying the very people whom he loved the most. Let the abyss take him. Perhaps he could find in the depths of its unending shadows an end to his heart's fierce burning, a final rest from the pain that had plagued him each moment of his adult life.

"Don't hurt Yurz," the goblin cried, glancing wildly at the chasm below and back to Taen. "Me like Pretty Lady. Me help find her."

Caught between his rage and despair, it took a few moments for the half-elf to process the goblin's words. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Me find Pretty Lady," he repeated, desperation causing the goblin's voice to squeak even higher. "Me know where Ugly One keep prisoners. Me lead you to her."

Taen thought about it for a moment. How could he trust this creature? Even if Yurz hadn't betrayed them- which was a big "if"-Yurz was still an evil, cunning little monster. Enchantment or not, he was loathe to trust Marissa's life to his fickle sense of loyalty.

Yet how could he squander any chance that he might actually be able to save her, to rescue her from the fate that his failures had brought upon her. He stared at Yurz, his limbs frozen with indecision.

"Taen… now!" he heard Roberc's voice again, this time much closer.

A sharp tug on his arm ended the paralysis. The half-elf blinked slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep. Roberc stood at his side, sword in hand. He could see Borovazk standing at the entrance to the undertomb, gazing into the darkness beyond.

Taen dropped Yurz unceremoniously on the stone floor of the bridge. The goblin quickly got to his feet and danced around him.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," the creature gibbered almost unintelligently, his eyes agleam with emotion. "Yurz lead you to Pretty Lady, you see. Yurz friend to Pretty Lady's friends-"

The half-elf reached out and stilled the whirling goblin with a harsh grapple. "If you so much as think a betraying thought in that ugly head of yours, I will separate it from your body so fast that you won't even know you're dead until you watch your headless corpse tumble to the floor," he said menacingly. "Got it?"

Yurz gulped audibly. "Yes," he replied in a frightened voice. "Yurz hear what bald elf say."

"Good," Taen said and pushed the goblin toward the open door to the undertomb. "Then let's get going."

The ghoul fell back against the wall.

Taen withdrew his sword from the creature's chest. The monster slid down the smooth stone of the tomb wall, the gleam fading from its undead eyes. To his left, Borovazk crushed the last two creatures with one mighty swing of his warhammer. Dried bones snapped as the weapon slammed the hapless ghouls against the ground.

"How much further?" Taen asked their goblin guide.

"We not too far away," Yurz replied. "We almost out of the undertomb."

"Good," the half-elf replied, wiping the slime and congealed blood from his sword. They had spent a long time traversing the cramped passages and chill crypts of the citadel undertomb, dodging more goblin patrols and a seeming horde of skeletons and zombies. Several times they had entered a seemingly empty room only to be beset by ravenous ghouls and even the occasional wight lurking in the shadows. Taen's arms ached with fatigue, his muscles long since pushed past the point of exhaustion. This last battle had nearly undone him. He sheathed his now-clean sword and rested briefly, his breath coming in great ragged gasps.

"Friends rest now," Yurz said, shooing Taen and his two companions to the center of the crypt. "Me search for secret way up into citadel." It was a testament to their fatigue that no one attempted to gainsay the anxious creature.

Taen dropped to the floor and massaged his sword shoulder. Borovazk and Roberc did the same, though the halfling spent most of his time cleaning the blood from Cavan's matted fur. The ranger looked around at their surroundings, unease written clearly upon his face. This room was larger than most, its smooth stone handsomely decorated with fading murals and elaborate stonework. Two of the walls were filled with human-sized horizontal alcoves, each occupied by a skeleton bedecked in ancient armor. Several sarcophagi sat in the center of the room, their heavy stone lids shattered by the force of the ghouls that had poured out of them.

"What's the matter, Borovazk," the halfling asked, "besides the fact that we're trapped in an undead-infested tomb trying to rescue Marissa from the clutches of a powerful hag?"

Taen found his temper rising as the halfling's acerbic comments filled the silence of the room. Fatigue won out over anger, however, so the half-elf bit his tongue, grasping the hilt of his sword as he did so and cursing the necessity for rest that caused them delay. Besides, he knew that Roberc would fight through every layer of the Abyss to rescue Marissa.

For his part, Borovazk ran a meaty hand through his sweat-soaked hair before answering the halfling. When he did finally speak, his usually resonant voice barely filled the chamber. "This is great resting place of heroes," the ranger said hoarsely, pointing to the walls of the crypt and beyond. "Borovazk feel sad to fight Rashemi whose bodies have been corrupted by the foul work of the hag and her witch ally. Is not right. The dead deserve honor." This last he nearly shouted.

Taen looked up and cast a measuring glance at the ranger. The skin beneath Borovazk's eyes sagged, bruised and nearly black with fatigue. The human's normally irrepressible smile had faded-when that had happened, Taen hadn't noticed-replaced now by a wide-mouthed frown. Dried blood and thick black patches of congealed slime marred the normally pale hue of his face.

At that moment, the half-elf realized that he wasn't the only one who blamed himself for Marissa's capture. Both Borovazk and Roberc held a haunted look in their eyes and a grim cast to their features. That fact unaccountably lightened his own heart, and he recalled something that his father used to say: "A burden shared is a burden lightened." He was so caught up in his own misery that he hadn't realized how deeply his companions grieved for Marissa. The half-elf began to understand-in the way that one does when light first shines in a dark place-that perhaps this was the root cause of much of his problems: he was always focused inward on himself, on his own guilt and misery.

"Don't worry, Borovazk," he said at last, resting a hand upon the ranger's shoulders. "We will find Marissa, and when we do, we shall make the witch and her hag minion pay for what they have done here."

Borovazk looked Taen in the eye, and the half-elf could see the Rashemi's desire for that revenge. "Is good to hear, little friend," the ranger responded. "Borovazk think that he is done with this little adventure soon, and he will be glad of it."

A shriek erupted from a shadowy corner of the crypt, followed by the sound of Yurz's cackling laughter. "Me find it!" the goblin proclaimed loudly. "Come, friends of Pretty Lady! Yurz find the door. We not far now!"

For what seemed like the first time in quite a while, a smile split the grim terrain of Taen's face. "Perhaps," he said to Borovazk, "our adventure will end sooner than we had hoped!"

With a grunt and a sigh of effort, the half-elf pulled himself to his feet, gathered up his gear, and strode toward the now-open secret door. Without a second thought, he walked through it.