Lady of Poison

by Bruce R Cordell

  Finally she turned and said, “Ectoplasm. It is ephemeral and harmless. I am not sure why it has been drawn into this space; it is normally a purely astral phenomenon.”

  Marrec was not familiar with astral phenomena, but he thought that the milky strands and gossamer draperies lent the path a dreamlike quality. He motioned for the rest of the group to follow behind. As they moved forward, the geode-like quality of the path become more apparent. He decided that the mist and the crystal were associated. The buzzing grew louder.

  “Be alert,” called Elowen from behind. “That noise has a predatory sound to it—it is something a hunter might make to flush out prey or freeze it with fear.”

  Marrec sighed but managed to get Justlance from its sheath on his back with one hand while maintaining a grip on the horses, and not a moment too soon.

  A white-bodied creature punched through the mist from above, its buzz becoming a roar of rapid-beating wings. It was like an albino wasp, though a wasp grown as large as a man. Its wings, stinger, and even its eyes were milk white. It almost seemed a sculpture of purest ivory, though animate and hungry. As it stooped on Ususi, Marrec cast Justlance.

  His spear leapt at the swooping monster; the creature broke off its dive seconds before striking the mage to avoid the spear. Justlance continued its trajectory into the void. Marrec felt a moment of disquiet, watching his spear drop away; he didn’t fully understand the properties of the artificial space. What if … Justlance slapped back into his grip, and he stopped worrying.

  He could hear Ususi muttering,” … should have discorporated long ago—what could allow a construct to persist so long? Maybe it’s newly constructed …”

  “Heads up!” shouted Marrec.

  The white wasp returned for another pass. He worried that it didn’t have to bring its stinger to bear to make a lethal attack. It only had to knock one of them off the path.

  Two arrows, one following the other by only a few hands’ breadths, hissed into the beast’s abdomen. Elowen’s work. The creature wavered, but it didn’t squeal or even bleed. He made a new conjecture—the monstrous white wasp was composed of compacted white mist, the ‘ectoplasm,’ that surrounded them.

  The arrows hurt it. Its buzzing was erratic. Emboldened, he threw Justlance straight into the creature. The shaft of the spear continued through the creature’s body, exiting the other side. Apparently that was too much disruption. The buzz of its rapidly beating wings ceased, and it dropped like a stone in a well, striking the stone path hard. The slap of impact was loud and ultimately lethal. The creature misted away, evaporating into so many disconnected milky strands. Marrec’s intuition had been right.

  “Interesting ‘astral phenomena’ you have here, Ususi, but let’s go,” he decided. “There could be more.”

  They began to move again but were still hindered by the uneven footing. Not more than twenty paces further along they discovered the source of the milky haze.

  Ususi stood before a sort of outcropping on the path, or perhaps it was more like a gargantuan sculpture had fallen upon the path. It was a sculpture of real stone, too, unlike the wasp formed of clingy mist. The force of the sculpture’s fall had apparently broken it in two, for only the upper half of the figure, which resembled the rough form of a muscular man, remained; the midriff and lower portion must have dropped away in the darkness. The interior of the split sculpture was hollow and truly resembled a geode with its rough crystal coating. The hollow was large enough that two people could walk abreast into it. Purplish light was strong within that cavity, but it was impossible to see what generated the light without entering.

  Ususi made as if to do just that, an eager expression animating her normal placid features.

  “Ususi!” exclaimed Marrec and Elowen simultaneously.

  The mage paused, her gaze sweeping across the group before finally coming to rest on Ash. She had the grace to look just the slightest bit guilty.

  Marrec said, “That’s right. We’re not here to explore. We need to get Ash out of here. We’re putting her in jeopardy by our mere presence. We’ve already faced more threat than you indicated was possible here.”

  Ususi didn’t move, torn between her task and her urge to explore.

  Elowen coaxed the mage, “You can explore later, after we’ve gotten through to Yeshelmaar. Leave the exit open, and you can return on this very route.”

  “Very well,” sighed Ususi. “Of course you’re right. Even after the Nentyarch relieves me of the Keystone, if I leave the exit open, any of us could return along this path.”

  They marched past the enigmatic half-figure, its interior glowing with mystery.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Great Dale is a long, fertile vale running three hundred miles east from the town of Uthmere, a port city on the Sea of Fallen Stars. The Great Dale divides the Forest of Lethyr from the dark and deadly Rawlinswood, two of the greatest forests of Faerûn. Governed by a council of druids, the independent clanholds of the Great Dale stand amid the ancient ruins of old Narfell, a demon-haunted realm whose dark legacy still threatens the surrounding lands even a thousand years after its destruction.

  Near the center of the Great Dale, a great rocky tor rises from Lethyr forest. A pristine lake of clear, cold water stands at the foot of the hill. Carved into the tor is an old wood elf stronghold known as Yeshelmaar.

  A hole opened in empty air near the tor. From it issued several travelers and their mounts: Two women (one an elf), two men (one dressed quite barbarically), and a child on a pony. They travelers walked their mounts out of the dark into the grass. Horses and people seemed relieved to have reached the end of their journey.

  Marrec studied the great fortress of natural stone and fitted blocks that crowned the great tor. “Yeshelmaar?”

  The elf woman, Elowen, nodded confirmation. “The Nentyarch’s seat-in-exile, if Briartan was right. Look,” she gestured to the top of the natural fortress, where great green banners cracked and blew in the wind. “The banner on the right signifies the Circle of Leth, the one on the left, the Nentyarch. It is true; he is here.”

  “This place looks old. What was it before the Nentyarch took over?” wondered Gunggari.

  Elowen responded, “This fortress was built in the days when the Lethyr elves were faced with destruction at the hands of the Empire of Narfell, a sinister force to the north, but such battles are long past. The threat of old Narfell is long gone, but so are the elven-folk of Lethyr. Of the wood elves who once lived nearby, only a few small villages survive. The Circle decided the fortress would make an ideal base. When pressed, I guess the Nentyarch did, too.”

  “Where were the Circle and the Nentyarch before?”

  “The Nentyarch and his High Druids formerly dwelled together at Dun-Tharos in the Rawlinswood,” said Elowen in a low tone.

  Before she could say more, several elves issued from a low gate on the hill and moved forward. They were dressed in the colors of the Circle and wore leathers, bore equipment, and were branded with insignia not dissimilar to Elowen’s. All had bows in hand but refrained from nocking arrows.

  Elowen moved forward waving, and called, “Hail, hunters. I’ve returned with important news for the Circle and for the Nentyarch himself.”

  The approaching elves stopped short, grins breaking out on many of their faces. One who seemed less pleased continued forward, a man with darker green leather armor and a silver leaf-shaped pin clasping a sea-green cloak on his back. He eyed Elowen and the rest of the group carefully, paying particular attention to Gunggari, before returning his gaze to Elowen.

  He said, “So the lone hunter deigns to return to the fold, after an absence of over two years.”

  Elowen flushed but said calmly, “You know why, Fallon. I promised the Nentyarch that I would discover the origin of the blighted volodnis and what they sought to the south. I have discovered an answer to both of these questions, though more questions have surfaced. I have come to speak to Nentyarch.”

  Th
e other elf frowned, “Reports are customary during the interim of so long an absence, I need not remind you.”

  Elowen’s chin jutted forward, “Let us see what the Circle has to say about it; such matters are not for a hunter to determine. As far as I can see, you are still a Nentyar hunter, Fallon.”

  Marrec cleared his throat, interrupting what may have been a heated response on Fallon’s part, and said, “We seek an audience with the Nentyarch. We have information that bears directly on his governance of the forest and the movements of his enemy, the Rotting Man.”

  The elves all blanched at that name. Fallon said with ill grace, “The Nentyarch does not turn away those who seek him. However, his Spring Court has concluded for the day. He will receive you tomorrow.”

  “Hold on,” began Marrec, but Elowen laid a restraining hand on his arm.

  She looked at Fallon and said, “Tomorrow is fine.”

  Fallon turned, saying, “Then follow me. We can put all of you up tonight in guest quarters. You can freshen up, visit the Yeshelmaar market, small as it is, and restore yourselves before you see the Nentyarch, tomorrow, but,” he paused before forging ahead, “Elowen must come with us. We must take her before the Circle of Leth. It is they whom a hunter must answer to, and it is from the Circle any admonishment shall come.”

  Gunggari had moved up to stand abreast of Marrec and Elowen as they spoke with Fallon. He said, “We would not stand here were it not for Elowen. Make sure your Circle knows that.”

  “Don’t worry, Gunggari, “said Elowen. “I’ll be fine. After the Circle hears my report, I’ll come find you all. We shall meet the Nentyarch tomorrow.”

  They approached the fortress.

  The fortress of Yeshelmar was built originally as a simple keep on a hilltop. During the course of the wars with Narfell, it grew, both higher and deeper into the rock of the tor. Stonework piled on brickwork as roofs became balconies for elevated watch posts, as walls became foundations for higher walls, and as basements became the origin for yet deeper halls and armories cut into the earth.

  Each addition added new spires and pinnacles, chimneys for fireplaces, and vents for the deepest chambers where golden lamplight was the only hope of illumination in otherwise tenebrous halls. The congestion of construction thrust aloft a mighty work of stone; it was difficult to pick out where the natural stone of the hillside let off and the handiwork of elves picked up. Slender walkways threaded the tallest spires, while curling stairways provided external access to many of the towers and lower balconies. In many places, actual trees rooted in great earth-filled stone planters rose, providing soothing breaks in the otherwise stern stonework. Green ivy grew over the sides of many of the walls. Despite the clutter and age-worn look, and even despite its military feel, Yeshelmaar yet retained a feeling of an elven holding.

  The travelers were led past the great valves of iron and stone that served as the main gates of Yeshelmaar into a wide, square-cut tunnel flagged with granite. The tunnel sloped steeply upward, but the flagged floor provided exceptional footing. Many small side tunnels on either side opened into unguessed chambers, hidden in darkness, but the main passage was lit with great lamps. Ahead and above, the light of day also leaked in. After ascending the slope over the course of a minute, the group of travelers and their escorts left the tunnel, entering a wide courtyard open to the sky but enclosed by the towering walls and spires all around. The travelers’ mounts were stabled at that level, after which they were finally shown to their quarters.

  Marrec’s room was high up on the south side of the fortress, and overlooked the lake and road below. His chamber opened onto a rooftop garden, which was filled with greenery and flowers right up to the edge of a sheer plunge down the stony walls of Yeshelmaar, all the way down to the pristine surface of the lake and the hard cobbles of the road. Marrec and his friends had been warned not to venture too close to the garden’s edge.

  His friends, all except for Elowen, were given rooms off the same hallway where the elves had put him. In fact, his and Ususi’s rooms shared the same garden. She walked about it, apparently taking a mental inventory of the types of plants and flowers she was unfamiliar with.

  Marrec joined her in the garden. He would try a friendly gesture and attempt some small talk with the mage. “What are you looking at?” he asked, coming up beside Ususi.

  “Flowers.”

  Marrec swallowed. “It is certainly a pleasant evening.”

  “I suppose.”

  Silence interposed between them and grew to a span Marrec found uncomfortable.

  Marrec said, “You seem a bit short in temper this evening. Perhaps you would prefer that I leave you alone to your observations?”

  Ususi shrugged then surprised Marrec with, “No. Stay. I have few conversations with people, and even less with those from so far to the west. Please, tell me of the lands from which you hail.”

  “Very well,” Marrec said with a smile.

  See? He thought. Reach out a little, and you shall be rewarded.

  Marrec continued, “What do you know of the Sea of Fallen Stars? You’ve heard of it, then? How about fabled Waterdeep?”

  Later, his conversation with Ususi concluded, he returned to his room. The mage proved to be a good listener, which was a trait rare in Marrec’s experience. Usually, in purely social situations, it was he who listened and the other who talked, telling Marrec of himself, his triumphs, his children, or the happenings in his day. When Marrec did get a word in edgewise about himself, it was clear that many people used that time to formulate what they would say when they next had their chance, instead of listening in return and showing that they had listened by asking a question related to what had just been said.

  Ususi wasn’t like that. For that matter, neither was Gunggari, probably why he and the Oslander had struck up a friendship and traveling arrangement.

  Of course, when it came to listening, none could top the ever-quiet Ash.

  Marrec was Ash’s putative guardian, and she shared his room. She sat on a small bed brought up to the room by a servant after Marrec inquired if something more accommodating to her small frame might be had. Marrec studied the girl, looking for any changes. As always, no expression crossed her face as she stared without sound out the open door opening onto the garden.

  He sighed and seated himself next to her.

  “Well, girl, here we are, and I don’t know if we’re any closer to finding out your role in all this.”

  He held up a small, delicately carved stone vessel for her to drink from. When she was finished, Marrec continued, “You and me, we’re a lot alike, you know.”

  He wondered if he had told the same thing to Ash before. Probably. Undeterred, he continued, “I was a foundling, same as you, and like you I was not … am not … entirely human.”

  He stopped, studying the girl’s face for any hint of surprise. Nothing.

  “I’m not a healer like you, though. My ability … is more destructive. It’s a burden. I’ve done things that I’m ashamed to admit.”

  He sighed. Thoughts he had tried to bottle up over the last few years began to bubble to the surface of his mind, and his lips.

  “I can’t help but wonder if my past … crime … is somehow responsible for Lurue’s disfavor with me? Maybe this is all some sort of test, or quest, for me to finally cleanse the monster that lives within me, finally repudiate it once and for all.”

  Ash began to trace the lines of stone faintly visible behind the wall plaster. Her wide blue eyes reflected a gulf of emptiness, or Marrec dared hope, acceptance.

  “If you are somehow connected with Lurue, then you know what I’ve done. You know my vow, too; that never again shall I call upon the power of my heritage, lest ill once again befall me or befall those I hold most dear.”

  Marrec cleared his throat, and went on, “That vow sustained me in the early years of my service to the goddess. All seemed well. I thought it was all behind me, but with this gradual quieting, and my loss o
f contact with her divine spark, I just wonder …”

  He whispered, “Is it my crime? What more must I do to gain forgiveness?”

  He reached forward and touched Ash’s brow with a finger. The girl turned, gave him the tiniest of smiles, then went back to tracing mortar lines.

  Marrec spoke no more, but the memory of what he had done would not be bottled up.

  The ranger Thanial’s revelation was nothing short of a life-altering shock. Could young Marrec really be born of creatures he’d been taught to fear and despise all his life? How could he deny it? His memories were proof enough, not to mention the power of his gaze unleashed. The power to replace flesh with unmoving, unliving stone …

  “It is an evil thing you tell me, Thanial.”

  “Can knowledge by itself be evil? Only the use to which we put it. Not telling you about your parentage—that might be considered evil. When you know the truth, you are free to make the best decisions possible. With the time we’ve spent together, I’ve come to know your character, and you are good.”

  Someone pounded on the exterior of Thanial’s cabin door. The grizzled ranger gave Marrec’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze then saw to the caller.

  It was a boy from the village, babbling of another attack. The ogre raiders had returned to the village, vengeful and more cruel in the wake of their ignominious retreat months earlier. Worse, a truly abominable ogre, nearly double the size of the others, led the raid. The boy said the village elders had sent him. He pled for Thanial’s help in driving off the threat, not recognizing Marrec, who was older and attired similarly to the ranger.

  Thanial grunted, “I will come.” He glanced at Marrec. “And my apprentice, too.”

  The ranger shrugged into his leathers; Marrec did the same. His leather armor was another gift from his benefactor. Thanial grabbed his sword, Marrec his wooden spears, and they were off through the forest. Thanial told the boy from the village to stay in his cabin. The young villager was too exhausted to protest.