Quote the Drow Nevermore

by Martha Carr

  Puffing out a sigh, she knocked once, and a blast of orange light flared between her knuckles and the metal door. A fiery jolt raced up her arm, and her drow form took over before her back hit the far wall of the bottom stairwell. “What the hell?”

  The door shimmered with orange light again and jerked open. Corian’s wide silver eyes stared at her from the foot-wide opening. “Cheyenne,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

  She lifted the legacy box in her hand and scowled at him. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  “What?”

  “Your door’s a giant electrical socket.”

  The Nightstalker rolled his eyes. “I’m beefing up security around here, okay? Told you I had to put up some wards.”

  “Then you need to beef it up even more.” The halfling shook out her hand. “That hurt, but I’m pretty sure I could have knocked the door off its hinges if I’d really wanted to.”

  “Yeah, well, the wards aren’t for you.” Corian leaned through the door to peer up at the top of the stairwell. “And if you’d told me you were coming, I would’ve taken them down until you got here.”

  “Oh, sorry. Did I need to schedule an appointment with your secretary?”

  He met her gaze again, his tufted ears twitching where they poked up out of his messy brown hair. “You’re pricklier than normal. What’s going on?”

  “Messed-up day, and it only got worse when I checked the forum about forty-five minutes ago.”

  Sucking his lower lip, the Nightstalker wrinkled his nose and stepped away from the door. “At least come inside before you start talking about it. Come on. Hurry up.”

  Cheyenne slipped through the door, careful not to brush the metal, and stood in the unfinished basement while Corian shut it again. He cast a spell in a few quick gestures with both hands, and the orange light rippled across the door again. Then he turned, looked her up and down, and walked past her toward his laptop on the cheap card table. “Heard about the kids, huh?”

  “Yeah. Before anyone else. Probably even before their parents.”

  “What?” He stopped with his hand on the back of the chair and cocked his head. “You know something about this?”

  “Those kids were taken this morning by the same assholes selling all that black-magic crap. To kids.”

  Scratching behind his ear, Corian gestured toward the other chair at the table. “Have a seat and tell me what you know.”

  Slowly, the halfling walked past him to pull out the other chair.

  The Nightstalker sniffed the air and frowned at her. “You smell like blood, fellwine, and…”

  “Spices? Yeah, I know.” She sat and thumped the puzzle box onto the table. “Long story.”

  “Okay.” He raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands in his lap. “I’m listening.”

  “I went out with some people this morning.”

  “I know you’ve been playing special ops with the FRoE, Cheyenne. You don’t have to talk around it.”

  The halfling blinked and had to try twice before she could swallow. “And you’re not freaking out about it?”

  He snorted. “Please. Those people think they know what they’re doing. Sometimes they get lucky, and it looks to everyone else like they know what they’re doing too. But they’ve only been around for two or three decades, and that’s nothing compared to how long some of us have been laying low Earthside.”

  “Like you.”

  “Yes, Cheyenne. Like me.”

  “It’s not gonna be an issue if I’m working with those guys?”

  Corian shrugged. “I couldn’t care less, honestly. The only thing that matters is if it’s an issue for you. Seeing as the FRoE has L’zar, and that’s how you got into Chateau D’rahl to see him, I’m guessing they’re still useful to you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Look, my advice would be to keep using that connection until they don’t have anything else to offer you. Then drop ‘em.”

  “That was kind of the plan.” Cheyenne leaned back in the chair and stretched her legs out under the table, careful to move them aside so she wouldn’t touch the flimsy table legs or the Nightstalker’s shoes. “Right now, they’re pretty useless.”

  “You’re talking about the kids.”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “We went out this morning to go after the magicals selling that crap. The FRoE had a tip about where to find them, but when we got there, the place was empty except for crates of supplies those assholes apparently didn’t need and a—” She forced back the tears threatening to build up behind them. “A pile of clothes.”

  “Clothes.”

  “Kid’s clothes, Corian. Backpacks. Shoes. All their stuff. And I saw a goblin kid the other day dressed in some stupid black robes. He was already gone by the time we got there, but I’m pretty sure there was some kinda sacrifice or something.” Cheyenne rubbed her forehead. “I know it sounds crazy—”

  “No.” The Nightstalker’s gaze was as steady as his voice when she looked back up at him. “It’s not crazy at all. It’s been a long, long time, but I’ve seen something like this before.”

  “With kids?”

  The Nightstalker dipped his head. “Ambar’ogúl is rife with black magic, Cheyenne. It’s always been there, sure, but the last century or so, things really started to get out of hand.”

  “You’ve been here longer than that, though.”

  “That doesn’t mean I haven’t heard stories. And you know the Border crossings aren’t one-way trips.”

  “Are you trying to tell me everyone on that side practices black magic?”

  “Not everyone, no. Not yet, anyway.” Corian pressed his lips together in a grimace. “Why do you think so many O’gúleesh are making the crossing, now more than ever?”

  “To get away from it.”

  He nodded. “And now it looks like someone’s trying to push it Earthside, too. Or maybe some displaced and bitter magicals gave up on trying to make things work the way they were supposed to after they got here. Who knows? It’s easy to turn to black magic if you think you’ve run out of options with everything else.”

  “That’s no excuse.” The halfling folded her arms.

  “I agree with you there, Cheyenne.” The Nightstalker closed his eyes, then crossed one leg over the other. “It wasn’t supposed to take this long.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  He stood abruptly from the table and scanned the metal shelves against the wall. “You’re not ready for that.”

  “That’s also not an excuse.” Cheyenne nudged the copper puzzle box across the table. “And I’m more ready now than the last time I was here.”

  “Yeah? How’s that?”

  “Solved another line of the legacy box.”

  The Nightstalker stiffened before slowly turning back toward her. His gaze traveled slowly from the box to Cheyenne’s face. Then his hand lashed out toward her, and a crackling bolt of silver magic streamed toward her. The halfling leaped out of her chair, sending it to the cement floor, and raised a shield. Corian’s spell crackled across the surface of the translucent black field, then fizzled out before the shield disappeared.

  “Hmm.” Corian cocked his head. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “Yeah, bar fights are good for that.”

  “That’s good. One more ability mastered, and you’re closer to solving that Cuil Aní.” He turned back toward the shelf and started rummaging through the piles of junk there. “But it’s not good enough.”

  “You know, I’m really getting tired of people telling me I’m not ready, or it’s not good enough, or I need to wait and just do what I’m told.”

  “Whatever anyone else has told you, Cheyenne, trust me. You’re not ready to face this until you’ve completed the drow trial and come into your own. You’re not the only one affected by this.”

  “Really?” The halfling folded her arms. “It’s supposed to be my legacy. What do you get out of it?”

  Co
rian sighed and kept digging through his things. “It’s not just about me either, but I get out of it what the rest of the Earthside magicals will get out of it, and if everything works out the way it’s supposed to, you’ll be changing things for O’gúleesh across the border, too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That doesn’t matter. What matters is you mastered another ability and locked another section of the box into place. You’re getting loud and bright now, kid. Like a comet.”

  The guy’s lost his mind.

  “Please tell me something that makes sense. I’m sick of riddles and analogies everyone thinks I’m supposed to understand.”

  “You’ll understand eventually. When you’re—”

  “Ready. Yeah, I get it. Look, I’ve had a seriously messed-up day, and I thought I’d come over here to try not getting my ass kicked again so we can speed this thing up. Are we gonna go through another portal to train some more, or what?”

  “Not tonight. Ah.” Corian removed a small tin box from beneath a pile of unfolded clothes and set it to the side on the shelf. Then he jiggled the lid until it came free with a metallic squeal and pulled out a long, thin silver chain with a round pendant dangling from the end. “But this will help.”

  “You said it was your job to train me,” Cheyenne muttered.

  “I did, and that’s true. But I have other things to take care of. One of those is trying to maintain a speck of sanity in this town with all those missing kids.” The Nightstalker whispered something unintelligible, gestured with one hand while the chain dangled from his other fist, then lifted the pendant to blow on it. Then he flicked the pendant with his finger, and a burst of silver light flared in a bright circle around the necklace before quickly fading. “If you saw what’s happening on the forum, kid, you know how precarious things are. If magicals over here start freaking out about their children or trying to go find them? Well, that’s a whole new can of worms, isn’t it?”

  The halfling stared at the pendant dangling from the chain as Corian brought it back to her at the table. “I don’t need any more jewelry.”

  “No. You need protection.”

  “The kind that fires off spells for me? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind taking a little break from having to fight off all those idiots wearing bull’s-head pendants.”

  Corian stopped and swung the pendant just out of reach with a frown. “Were you attacked again?”

  “I mean, technically, yeah. It wasn’t that big a deal.” The halfling rubbed her lower back and grimaced. “Just left bruises.”

  “Well, this should help with that, too. The attacks. Not the bruises.” He finally handed her the necklace.

  Cheyenne took it from him and studied the round charm, which was the size of a quarter. The black gem set in the tarnished silver setting flashed in the yellow light of the bulb hanging from the ceiling. Glimmering specks caught the light here and there, with streaks of silver barely visible through the center. “What kind of stone is this?”

  “It’s called the Heart of Midnight. Used for a lot of drow spells in Ambar’ogúl. Powerful magic needs a binding agent to focus it. The stone was rare before I came Earthside. I don’t know if there’s any left now.”

  “Just like the Nimlothar trees, huh?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Sounds like somebody got pretty greedy over there.”

  The Nightstalker grunted. “You have no idea.”

  “Does this thing come with instructions, or…”

  “Just wear it, Cheyenne. When you do, you should start having a lot less trouble with those idiots wearing the bull’s head.”

  “How’s that?” She unclasped the necklace and reached up to settle the chain around her neck. A wave of cool energy bloomed across her chest and filtered into her limbs. With it, her drow form melted, and she stood there in the basement looking like her regular human self. “An illusion charm?”

  “Not quite. I told you that you were getting bright and loud. The stone is a…sound-proof booth, if you will. Almost like you never started the trials in the first place.”

  “So, those magicals wearing the bull’s head are coming after me because I started solving the puzzle box?”

  “That’s part of it. I’d say to wear it as much as you can. The minute it’s off, those trying to find you will pick right back up on the scent.”

  The halfling blinked up at him. “What did you say?”

  “About what?”

  “My scent. Is that some kinda weird euphemism from the other side, or what?”

  Corian shook his head. “I don’t…”

  “You know what? Never mind. I can handle being a scentless drow for a little while.” She peered down at the stone and shrugged. “At least it’s my color, right?”

  “Yes, Cheyenne. That’s the most important part.”

  She smirked and wagged a finger at him before tucking the copper puzzle box beneath her arm again. “See, I can tell you’re being sarcastic there.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried you’d take me seriously.” He went back to his chair and sat down, tapping his mouse to wake up his laptop again. “I have a lot of things to take care of tonight, but assume we’re good for another training session tomorrow unless I tell you otherwise.”

  “Or unless I’m out getting those kids back.”

  Corian turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. “That’s the only priority that tops your trials for the short-term. And don’t forget about the second visit with L’zar, if you can swing it. I know a lot about how this works, but not nearly as much as he does.”

  “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe.”

  “Mmhmm.” The Nightstalker had stopped paying attention and was furiously typing on his keyboard.

  Cheyenne reached out to open the door, and another electric burst of orange light flared at her fingertips and up her arm.

  “Oh, come on.” She shook out her hand and shot a glare at the back of Corian’s head, gesturing toward the door. “Is there a secret password or something?”

  He snapped his fingers without turning around, and the orange light fizzled across the door one more time.

  Oh, sure. Just a snap. Good to know.

  She opened the door and turned back to ask, “Is there anything else I should know about this necklace?”

  “Just wear it, Cheyenne.” He gave her a dismissive wave before lowering his hand to the keyboard again. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

  “What sage advice,” she whispered, stepping through the door with a wry chuckle. It closed behind her, and the halfling headed back up the stairs toward her car. I’ll stay out of trouble once we find those kids.

  Chapter Thirty

  When she got back to her apartment, all her pent-up energy was gone. Cheyenne closed the door behind her, stepped out of her shoes, and dropped the legacy box on the counter. She braced her hands against her lower back and looked up at the ceiling with a grimace. Of course, the end of the night is when everything really starts to hurt.

  In her bedroom, she pulled out her personal cell phone and stuck it on the nightstand, then peeled off her jacket and dropped it by the closet. A line of discarded clothes followed her from her bedroom to the bathroom; she was naked by the time she stood in front of the mirror. “Oh, boy.”

  Her ribs had started to bruise from the orc trying to turn her into a drow sandwich against the tavern wall. Wrinkling her nose, she turned and studied her lower back, but the troll she’d fought hadn’t left much of a mark. Guess I won’t know ‘til something stops working.

  With a sigh that somehow turned into a yawn, the halfling turned on the shower and waited thirty seconds until the water was nice and scalding, then stepped into the tub to wash off the day and loosen her tight muscles.

  The first rinse through her hair made a pool of dark red-brown water at her feet, but by the time she’d gone through two rounds of shampoo, the water was clear. Note to self: pull up yo
ur hair before a bar fight. She prodded the back of her scalp and winced at the soreness, but at least her hair was still attached.

  When she’d toweled off and brushed her hair enough times to be sure it wouldn’t fall out, she slipped into an oversized black t-shirt and crawled into bed. Cheyenne sniffed, wrinkled her nose, and pressed a handful of hair to her face. I need stronger shampoo. Her alarm was set, the lights were off, and she rolled over before yanking at the chain and the black stone pendant around her neck. I’m gonna choke myself sleeping in this thing.

  The halfling’s tired fingers fumbled with the clasp, then she dropped the whole necklace onto the bedside table beside her phone and rubbed her neck with a sigh. Dropping off to sleep wasn’t nearly as hard after that.

  Cheyenne dreamt about the meadow where she’d trained with Corian. The same creepy portal was there, whispering in some other language and pulling all the trees in the forest behind it. Only this time, her dreams had started melting together. The meadow was studded with fallen drow bodies in a messy circle around another figure crouching in the center. The whispering grew louder as the portal sparked and crackled with electric purple energy.

  The ground trembled, and the portal grew to twice the size she remembered it.

  When the figure in the black cloak kneeling in the center of all those bodies lifted its head, she recognized the bone-white hair and the purple-gray skin beneath the hood. But it wasn’t L’zar’s face when the hood slid back.

  It was hers.

  Her burning golden eyes shone like beacons in the darkened meadow. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Just as the words boomed across the meadow of the halfling’s dream, a dark figure snaked through the portal. It wore the same black, shimmering cloak as the Cheyenne in her dream, and pitch-black fingers reached up to pull back the hood. There was no face beneath it—only a hollow darkness that hissed out the growing whispers. Then the language shifted, and the faceless figure made of nothing turned to face the real Cheyenne.