Memento Mori: 15

Getting the sword, or rather the key, to Aerie's chains was the easiest work the quest had yet given them. At their approach, the beautiful human couple leapt up from their cushions, the man with the sword in his hand. The languid disdain on their faces disappeared as their forms shimmered and transformed into two hideous, snarling orcs. But what had been an improbable task for a 10-year-old street urchin was no great challenge for a master thief, a very motivated Rashemi warrior and a veteran hunter of the dead. The orcs were dispatched in mere moments, and Rakeh snatched up the fallen sword and delivered it to Aerie.

She took the sword and prodded at her ankle with its tip. A locking mechanism released with a loud clatter as the chains fell to the floor. Aerie's ogre form shimmered and shrank, and she became a frail-looking elven woman with golden tresses and tears in her huge blue eyes. She lifted her trembling hands and stared at them.

"My ... my hands ... my skin, it's real again!" She ran her thin hands over the porcelain skin of her face. The tears poured down her cheeks as she laughed and swept Rakeh into her arms and peppered him with kisses, heedless of his spider's form. "Oh, thank you, thank you! And thank Baervan!" she cried. Rakeh struggled out of her embrace and stepped back to hide behind Minsc.

Linvail looked over Aerie, his eyes lingering on her back. "I thought you said you were a winged elf."

Some of the elation faded from Aerie's face. "I-I am. I mean, I ... I was." She lowered her head and said in a soft, pained voice, "My wings were cut off a long time ago." Again her hands twisted before her, as if to prevent them from touching her body again and finding something unwanted. Or missing.

Linvail shook his head slightly without bothering to hide the mistrust on his face. “Pattrihishi diktuti," the Hunter said to him softly, "can tut dikava imenoch, tom dikame cheya tacho trupos?" (This illusion you saw, can you see it still or do we look upon her true form?)

"Jin nanti,” Linvail replied, his unpracticed accent making the Hunter wince. "Ako. Chirmishi mit chir chinavree si xonxano baro, cheya pooker hockaben tai pachiva man dinilo, tom cheya pooker tachiben. Imenoch, gro provtra tuti kenensa tai te na le yakensa. (I don’t know. Maybe. A winged elf with her wings cut off is such a tall tale, she’s either lying and thinks I’m a fool, or she’s telling the truth. Still, keep your eyes and ears open.)

"Mandi tool tache imenoch, ale man thav tutlesa,” (I’m inclined to trust her now, but I’ll do as you say) the Hunter replied. She tightened her grip on her bastard sword and smiled sardonically. "Man cacimos, tshorave narkano, tute pakiv for me sasti si xarica guli.” (I must say, Shadow Thief, your concern for my health is almost touching.)

Linvail chucked the Hunter under the chin with his free hand. "Don't take your knickers off for me just yet, mula," he said, switching back to the common tongue. "My concern for you is purely mercenary. You still owe me Irenicus' head on a silver platter."

"Beng!" The Hunter snapped, slapping away his hand. "Do not call me this. And it has been decided that task of yours, it cannot be done."

"You decided, not me. You owe me a boon of my choosing, and you'll fulfill it. Or you can keep arguing with me and find yourself the prey instead of the hunter. Your choice. Or your funeral." Without waiting for the Hunter's reply, Linvail turned to Aerie. "Are you of any use at all?" Aerie looked at him blankly, so he explained, "If you joined us, could you help us against this 'Kalah'?"

"You would let me join you?" she asked, her eyes darting from him to Minsc, then to the Hunter. "Al-alright. I, um, I have some magic. Just a little. N-nothing spectacular."

"That'll do," Linvail said. He bowed before the Hunter and gestured toward the doorway at the other end of the room, a wide gap between two ornate columns. "After you."

Wishing that looks could, indeed, slay, the Hunter glared at Linvail as she passed him. He fell into step behind her, followed by Aerie, with Minsc hovering over her like a mother hen, then Rakeh, still trapped in his spider's form, clutching the Hunter's wooden short sword.

The moment the Hunter's boots crossed the threshold of the doorway, the room behind them vanished. They found themselves in the corner of a room similar to the one they had just exited, though it was more plainly decorated. A fountain was the only object decorating the marble floors, and the high columns ringing the room supported a ceiling of blank plaster. A tall staircase formed the small alcove in which the group stood, though it also blocked their view of more than half of the room. Waving at the others to stay back, the Hunter sidled to the edge of the staircase wall and peered around it.

She looked directly into the smoky face of a shadow beast, its opaque features twisted by a murderous grin.

"'prey trashar!” the Hunter yelped in surprise, reflexively slashing her sword in an arc through the shadow's form. It fell back with a ghostly scream of more anger than pain. As the Hunter danced forward, she saw the the shadow was not alone; four more were skimming across the room toward them. And mingling with the shadows’ breathy curses was a cacophony of unearthly howls and snarls that could be made by only one thing.

"Wonderful," Linvail muttered as the four hulking hairy beasts tore across the room toward them. "They've got werewolves."

The Hunter gripped the bastard sword in both hands and shifted her feet to the proper stance for the single-weapon attack. "Attend!" she shouted to Linvail, who had started forward to fight at her side, "let the shadowed ones come to me! They cannot do harm to me!" She swung her blade around and caught her shadowy opponent just as its claws struck her shoulder. It did not tear the leather, but the blow smarted enough to numb her arm. The shadows could hurt her, yes, but she would heal, and because of her diabolical heritage they could not drain her of her strength as they could to mortals. She wished heartily for her short sword, for its enchanted wooden blade would have done them mortal injury, but Rakeh was too far away for her to take it from him, and she would not leave him defenseless merely to make her own battle easier.

However, the small magic inscribed into the blade of the bastard sword was enough. The first shadow fell before her onslaught and was replaced by three others that surrounded her, hissing every time she struck at them, cackling madly when their blows snaked past her whirling blade to reach her. But their haphazard attacks made it evident that they were clearly unaccustomed to foes who kept their strength during battle, and they fell, one by one, to the Hunter's skill.

"I won't let my friends be hurt!" Aerie's cry pulled the Hunter's attention away from the last shadow threatening her. It clawed her face, tearing a jagged slash across her cheek and knocking her scarf askew. The Hunter gritted her teeth against the pain and danced a half-skip to the right to spit the shadow on her blade. It screamed as it lost its cohesion, melting until it was nothing more than an inky black mark staining the floor. Finally finished with battle, the Hunter now looked across the room to see what had drawn Aerie's cry.

Three of the four werewolves surrounded Minsc and Linvail, who were bruised and battered, though it was evident that Minsc had taken the brunt of the attacks. Before the Hunter could move forward to help, a glimmering ball of magical energy left Aerie's hands and landed on the werewolves. The creatures disappeared into faint puffs of wispy smoke.

Rubbing the blood away from her already-healing wound, the Hunter scanned the room for the missing werewolf and the last shadow. The shadow, beside the fountain, was not alone, and the sight of it nearly made her heart stop. Rakeh, armed with her short sword, was trying to fend it off, but the blade was too heavy for him. Hardly pausing for breath, the Hunter sprinted across the room so quickly she nearly slipped on the slick floor.

The shadow struck Rakeh again, so hard the sword fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor. The boy stumbled backward and fell, now so pale his green spider's body was nearly white. "Khelipenensa, narkano," she spat, catching the shadow across its middle with her blade. Khelipenensa tai dade!" The shadow screamed and clawed at her, catching only air as the Hunter ducked and took up her fallen short sword in her right hand. She dodged its next blow and lunged forward too far, landing on her knees as the wooden blade penetrated the shadow. It screamed piteously as the magic in the blade disrupted it, and it fell apart into a smattering of dust on the floor.

The Hunter dropped both swords and crawled to Rakeh, taking him up in her arms and turning him over. He lay limp, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. "Rakeh!" she cried, shaking him slightly. Cursing the illusion that would not let her see his features, the Hunter stripped the glove from her left hand and felt around for his head and torso, checking him for other wounds. When she lifted her hand, she found her fingers covered in his blood. "Rakeh!" she cried again and had to bite her lip to keep from shrieking in frustration. He cannot die, he is naught but a boy, and he has not yet lived! Ray baro, please, she prayed desperately to Kelemvor, if it is your will to take him, then it is your will, but I beg of you, grant him time to become a man!

"H-here, let me. I think I can, I-I can help," Aerie said, kneeling beside the Hunter. She murmured a short prayer and put her hands on the boy's head. Rakeh's body warmed as the healing magic flowed through him, and after a moment he sighed. "I've healed his wounds, but I can't restore his strength," she said apologetically.

"That, he will regain with time and rest. If we may rest." The Hunter shook her head, for she knew they could not. "It is enough, and for it, I thank you. And for the magic by you which caused the wolfmen to be banished. You speak of yourself too modestly."

"Oh, that." Aerie blushed under the Hunter's compliment. "T-that was n-nothing. I realized when M-minsc hit one and it disappeared that they were nothing more than illusions. I just dispelled them. It's a simple sp-spell."

Rakeh stirred in the Hunter's arms. His many spider's eyes blinked, each independently of the others, then opened. "Wha' happened?" he said weakly. "I feel like horse ran over me. Wha' happened to you?" He reached up and gently touched the healed slash on the Hunter's cheek, which was now a livid scar. Instead of a spider's hairy leg, the Hunter felt the sticky, grubby fingers of a little boy.

"What was it that you were thinking, attempting to do such a battle?" she scolded as she helped him sit up. She she could not keep from smiling while she did it, which ruined the effect. Rakeh ducked his head and mumbled something that sounded somewhat like an apology, but he did not sound truly sorry. Grinning fondly at him, she bonked him lightly on the head with her fist. "Me tshoravo. Rest a moment. Much still must be done before we leave this place."

The boy sagged against the fountain's wall, and the Hunter stood and followed Aerie to the bottom of the staircase, where Minsc sat while Linvail, whose hands were pressed against the big warrior's torso, examined him. At the Hunter's questioning look, Linvail looked up and rolled his eyes. "He's broken a rib," he said.

"That's all right," Minsc wheezed, "Minsc has another one."

"L-let me try healing you. I th-think I can heal a few more times today." Aerie moved forward and stood between Minsc's knees, praying over him with her small hands resting on his forehead. Standing beside Minsc, she looked even tinier than she was.

The Hunter felt a slight jealousy stirring in her breast but let it pass away without regard. It was not the first time in her long life that she had longed to feel the intimate touch of her god, to use his power to heal or do works in his name. When she had changed her allegiance from Lathander to Kelemvor upon the new deathgod's ascension in the past year, she had hoped that perhaps he would accept her fervent prayers and allow her to become one of his priestesses. But such things were not allowed to one such as her. The foul taint of her undead sire was too strong within her. Without thinking, she brought her left hand up to her lips to lick the blood from her fingers but caught herself. Self-disgust chased away the jealousy, but it faded quickly. She was what she was, and she had lived with it too long to shed tears over it anymore. She saw Linvail watching her, a cynical, knowing half-smile on his lips that widened when she wiped her fingers clean on her pants.

"Don't let me stop you," he said softly. "You do look a little peckish."

The Hunter scowled. "It may surprise one such as you that I would not take of my friends without asking their leave."

"How noble. It’s just what I’d expect from you.” Mocking laughter laced his words, which in another’s mouth would have sounded admiring.

Instead of turning away from her angry stare, he met it as if to challenge her, locking her gaze to his in an subtle contest of wills that would have lasted forever if not for Aerie’s timid interruption. “I-I don’t think I have any spells that can heal left,” she said. “I think, I think we should rest until morning, so I can pray again. Although I’m not sure anymore when morning is, really.”

The Hunter felt a small glimmer of stubborn pride as Linvail broke his stare to address the elf. “No,” he said, “we’ll continue on.”

“B-but, I think we should, we maybe-”

“We either stay here and wait for the next battle to come to us,” Linvail’s curt reply made Aerie cringe, “or we take our battle forward to this Kalah. I’m not giving him another chance to send his minions at me again.”

“There lies some wisdom within such thinking,” the Hunter said reluctantly. She returned to Rakeh and took up her fallen weapons and her discarded glove. She sheathed the weapons and pulled the glove onto her hand, then offered it to the boy, who rose to stand shakily by her side.

Minsc also rose and stretched his arms, holding his greatsword easily in one hand. “Minsc is feeling much better since pretty Aerie gave him her prayers. The butts of many of our enemies will be swollen with the kicking we will give them!”

Without waiting for Aerie’s agreement, Linvail started up the stairs. The Hunter and Rakeh followed, though Rakeh stumbled on his first step and would have fallen to his knees if the Hunter had not caught him. “I’m all right, I can walk,” he said testily before the Hunter could question him, but then grumbled, “but if you guys fight again, maybe I’ll just watch this time.”

Still holding his arm, the Hunter steered up him the stairs, suddenly conscious of what they must look like -- a vampire taking her pet spider for a walk. She grinned. “You speak with the wisdom of a serpent, bar.”

Once again, the moment they crossed the threshold into the next room, the one behind them vanished and was replaced by a entirely new setting. The marble floors remained, though a large green, slimy puddle at its center spoiled its perfection. Now the walls were red stone, the ceiling plated in gold. More overstuffed silk cushions lined the floor, surrounding an opulent brazier painted with gilt being tended to by the most powerful-looking man the Hunter had ever seen. Muscles so large they seemed almost ridiculous rippled across his frame. His long, lush blonde hair spilled over his broad shoulders. His only garment was a stole of white ermine wrapped around his tiny waist, as if to keep from spoiling the view of his perfect body. He did not seem surprised by the group’s sudden appearance into his sanctum and instead smiled seductively. “Ah, my beast, you have led them here nicely,” he said, his voice as melodious as Aerie’s, but a trumpet chorus compared with her birdlike twitter.

Linvail swore softly under his breath as Aerie cried out, “What? I'm not-”

“You're not what? You're not my beast?” the man tittered and shook a scolding finger at her, then spread his hands apart to include them all. “Oh, but you are, all of you are, don't you see?”

“Little Aerie! Aerie!” The green puddle quivered as it, quite impossibly, shouted for the elven girl, whose eyes became so wide they nearly bulged from their sockets.

“Wha-” she gasped. Fiery indignation darkened her face, and for the first time since meeting her, the Hunter did not see a scared little child, but a woman ready to do battle. “What have you done to my Uncle Quayle?!”

“Aerie!” the mustard slime screamed again. “Is that you? I have no eyes! I have no eyes!”

The man laughed, a cruel snigger that infuriated Aerie even more. Making the rudest gesture the Hunter had ever seen in a magical incantation, she spat out a spell. Four fiery missiles flew from her fingers to strike the man’s chest. He screamed a curse in gnomish, then imperiously clapped his hands. From the room’s corners an army of shadows emerged, hissing madly as they sped across the floor. Another clap of his hands, and more werebeasts appeared from the air. “At them, my shadows!” he screamed. “If they be fools, my other beasts shall strike them down. If not, the task shall fall to you, my shades. The circus now truly begins!”

The Hunter quickly handed Rakeh to Aerie and drew her swords. “Protect him!” she shouted as she moved forward with Minsc at her side to meet the shadows. Aerie immediately pushed the boy-spider behind her and drew something from her robes. Linvail was nowhere to be seen. Likely he had vanished to let them finish the battle alone, and she silently cursed him as a selfish bastard as she faced her foes.

Perhaps the shadows had taken note of the previous battle, for they gave her a wide berth, half choosing to set upon Minsc, the others moving to surround Aerie and Rakeh. Minsc yelled in shock and pain as they shadows struck him, draining him of his strength and driving him to his knees. The Hunter struggled to fight her way to him, to dispel the shadows, but her movements were blocked by the illusionary werewolves surrounding her, attacking her. Though she told herself repeatedly that they were not real, it was difficult to believe it when their spittle coated her leathers, when every blow from their claws stung, every bite of their fangs tore. Around her the blinding flash of magical missiles flew, not from Aerie but from the man, who ruthlessly directed them at the poor, trapped mustard slime that was the elf’s Uncle Quayle.

Minsc’s greatsword must have had some magic within it, for some of the shadows died after a few cuts of his blade, which he wielded with great effort now. Bruised, battered and torn by the werewolves pouncing upon her one after the other, the Hunter had all she could do to keep herself alive to help either him or Aerie and Rakeh. She heard Aerie shriek, “I-in the name of Baervan, I ... I ... oh, just go away!” Frustrated, hollow cries filled the air as the shadows were forced to turn away from their prey and destroyed by the strength of her faith.

As one, the werewolves leaped upon the Hunter, burying her under their monstrous weight and pinning her weapons to the floor. They snarled and snapped at one another as they dogpiled atop her, fighting each other to get at her, leaving her to fight only the two nearest her as she struggled to breathe. She rammed her fist into its back of one’s throat to keep it from biting her and held the ears of another, keeping its jaws a fingertip’s width from her ear. It is not real, it is not real, go away then if you are not real, she thought desperately, her arms shaking with the effort of holding them back.

A shriek literally split the air around them, for as it grew in pitch the room’s walls and ceiling shuddered and melted away to reveal the canvas walls of a circus tent, and the floor under the Hunter’s back turned from white marble to brown dirt. The werewolves lost their corporeality and faded into nothing, leaving the Hunter struggling with nothing but air. Shaking with exhaustion and too relieved to stand, the Hunter let her arms drop onto the earth and lay back, trying very hard not to faint and enjoying the sensation of her wounds regenerating without new ones being acquired.

“Uncle Quayle! You’re all right!” Aerie cried. The Hunter opened her eyes and rolled over. Aerie’s uncle turned out to be a wizened little gnome who looked definitely worse for the wear. However, he looked much better than the gnome who lay beside him, the hilt of a short sword protruding from his back between his shoulders. Linvail stood above the mortally wounded gnome, dusting off his hands.

“Kaj keres kana ame tut avel”? the Hunter asked wearily as she sat up.

“Where do you think? In the shadows, of course. Never play a king when a six will do, dhampir” he said, giving her a smug grin. “Looks like that’s two you owe me.”

---

Glossary, Romany:
mula -- vampire
beng -- devil
'prey trashar -- beware, look out
ray baro -- great lord
Khelipenensa, narkano -- Dance with me, shadow
Khelipenensa tai dade -- Dance with me and die
Me tshoravo -- my little thief
bar -- brother
Kaj keres kana ame tut avel -- Where were you when we needed you?
dhampir -- half-vampire