The Drow Hath Sent Thee

by Martha Carr

  Great. I bet this is the part where he tells me his plan to take the Crown and tries to kill me. I’m only half-joking.

  As soon as he removed his fingers from the ceiling, shuddering green light raced over the stone walls, spreading quickly from his touch to the walls of the huge chamber beyond. The green streak branched off over and over, illuminating an intricate root system running farther ahead of them than Cheyenne could see.

  Every few yards, the green-glowing veins gave way to clumps of purple light. Once they lit up, they pulsed slowly the same way the last Nimlothar had pulsed with its own living light. A plume of green flame shot from a crevasse in the wall, followed by another, and another farther down the cavern. The green fire flickered in and out of existence from one geyser after the next, along the ceiling, then on her right, then from the cavern floor twenty feet away.

  Cheyenne pressed her lips together to make sure her mouth hadn’t fallen open. “What is this?”

  “You know what it is.”

  “I don’t.”

  R’leer pointed at the stone floor at her feet. “Watch yourself.”

  She stepped aside before a plume of green flame leaped into the air as high as her waist and settled back down. Cheyenne stared at the ground, searching for a hole in the stone that didn’t exist. R’leer’s soft chuckle made her look quickly up at him with a scowl. “That’s funny, huh?”

  “A little.” Clasping his hands behind his back in a way that reminded her way too much of L’zar, R’leer gazed at the ceiling illuminated by veins of green and purple that no longer required his conjured light to see. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for what you already understand, Cheyenne. It is not my responsibility to explain it all to you, nor does that appeal to me.”

  Oh, sure. He thinks I give a shit what appeals to him.

  With a deep breath, she studied the pulsing purple veins stretching across the cavern walls between sprays of green fire. “If we’re farther from the capital than Hirúl Breach, this magic isn’t coming from the Nimlothar forest.”

  R’leer reached out to brush his fingers along the closest purple vein. It shuddered under his hand and flashed brighter before dimming again. “The Nimlothar are not relegated to one place.”

  “Are you telling me the trees can move?”

  “At one time they did, yes.” He narrowed his eyes. “Does that surprise you?”

  She snorted. “Not really, I guess.”

  “Their residual magic still runs through the heart of these mountains. And the Outers. And the plains of Lefhaim. Through Hangivol as well.”

  “Leftover Nimlothar magic.” Cheyenne swept her gaze over the cavern again and blinked when a particularly large column of fire sprayed straight out from the wall. “Why is there fellfire under the mountain right next to what’s left of it?”

  “Not fellfire.” R’leer took a deep breath through his nose, his golden eyes reflecting the intermittent bursts of green. “This is the deathflame running beneath the world. Through it. And we’ll use it to heal the forest.”

  “Wait a minute.” She spun quickly toward him. “This wasn’t a ‘we’ kind of deal, R’leer.”

  “Ah.” He grinned and didn’t bother looking at her. “So I took time out of my night to bring you here without purpose. Because of course, you would have found your way to the portal and to Agalyse’s side without my guidance. And you do speak O’gúleesh.”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

  “Like what?” He stepped slowly over to her, eyeing her with an appraising smile that made the tips of her pointed ears burn hot. “Does it anger you to consider that you may need me, Cheyenne?”

  Jesus Christ, he’s laying it on thick.

  “I don’t even know you.” She lifted her chin again to stare him down as he got closer. “And you don’t know me. Not well enough to tell me what I need.”

  “But enough to tell you that you cannot fulfill your promise to the Nimlothar in the Heart on your own.” R’leer leaned toward her, tilting his head to study her like some kind of specimen again. “You’ve taken on so much, thinking the entire burden had to be yours alone. It doesn’t.”

  “Maybe.” Half of her wanted to shove him away, and the other half wanted to see what he meant to do by standing so goddamn close.

  “I said you haven’t had the right guides to show you what’s truly important, did I not?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “In this, I can show you.”

  Cheyenne narrowed her eyes, ignoring the stuttering bursts of green deathflame shooting up around them at all angles. “So, what? We go back to Hangivol, gather all the drow, and take everyone out to the Nimlothar forest with a bunch of deathflame torches?”

  “Something like that.” R’leer bit his bottom lip and glanced at hers. “Ambar’ogúl must burn to free itself from what it has become.”

  “See, that’s what I’ve been trying to avoid this whole time.” She’d meant to turn away from him, but for some reason, she couldn’t move. Instead, she lifted her chin even higher and leaned forward until only inches of space existed between them. “I’m not burning down anything.”

  “Then you’ll be consumed with the rest of us.” He shrugged slowly. “That is your choice.”

  Then he stepped past her, his fingers brushing hers, and headed to the other wall of the cavern to study the pulsing Nimlothar magic that hadn’t been destroyed with the trees.

  Cheyenne blinked furiously, and a hot and cold flush washed over her. What the fuck?

  “If the Nimlothar are not restored, Cheyenne, our race will perish. Not immediately, but we drow tend to take our time, don’t we?”

  She turned and tried not to look as confused as she felt. “Is there some kind of hidden message in there or what?”

  R’leer ran his hand along the wall, trailing pulsing purple light behind his fingers. “Do you know how many drow in Ambar’ogúl have yet to pass their trials?”

  The sudden turn in the conversation made her frown, and she thought of the girl Ki’zi and how badly the young drow wanted to step into her power. And her parents are holding her back, with good fucking reason now. “No, I don’t.”

  “It used to be only the young, those with hundreds of years of preparation ahead of them.” R’leer turned to face her again, and his smile was gone. “Now, it’s more than half. Drow who spent their formative years under the Spider’s rule have lived far past the time of their trials and still cannot fully tap into who they are. The younger ones are fortunate. They don’t remember the days of Ba’rael’s treacherous grasp on what makes us mór edhil. They never knew what it was to stand before her in the Heart, desperate to draw strength from the Nimlothar seed they were given that had less than what was required to complete their trials. They didn’t see their kin fall beneath her spiteful control. Many of us perished because of what was made of our union with the Nimlothar. A deadly farce, Cheyenne. Nothing more.”

  Cheyenne swallowed and clenched her fists at her sides. I don’t need to hear this.

  “If the Nimlothar fall, if we fail, no drow will pass their trials. Our entire race will come crashing down on itself with nothing and no one left to raise us up again. You may believe healing this world from the poison Ba’rael created is the final step, but can you honestly say you’ll be satisfied with that victory if there are no more drow to celebrate it?”

  Fuck. Why does it have to be this guy?

  “I get it, okay?” She gazed at the seemingly endless expanse of cavern in front of them, flickering with green and purple magic. “We need the blight gone and the forest saved. I need to figure out how to get both those things done with what I’ve got.”

  R’leer spread his arms. “You have me.”

  She cocked her head and shot him a sidelong glance. “Fantastic.”

  Ember was totally right. I’m the bridge to get magical A to location B, and now it looks like I’ll be running around Amba
r’ogúl with a pyromaniac drow who may or may not be seriously into me.

  “Fine. You can help me.”

  R’leer grinned. “Yes, I can.”

  “Under one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  Cheyenne pointed at him. “Don’t lie to me about what has to happen. That includes giving me straightforward answers I don’t have to dance around to find out what they mean. Deal?”

  “Agreed. Ask me anything, Cheyenne.” He looked at her again and blinked slowly. “Even if I wanted to lie to you, I’m not sure I could.”

  “Right. First, do we have to climb all the way back up that hole in the wall, or is there another way out of here?”

  His chuckle echoed through the cavern as he turned back the way they’d come. “You told me you could climb.”

  Cheyenne said, “Yeah, I can climb.”

  Chapter Eighty

  Agalyse hadn’t moved an inch when they shinnied up the crevasse and hauled themselves back up over the edge. Cheyenne dusted her hands off and studied the pile of ancient drow as they walked, her footsteps whispering across the dusty stone floor in rhythm with R’leer’s. At this point, I should always expect something to jump out at me at any minute.

  But the sleeping drow remained still and silent even after R’leer led Cheyenne back down the twisting corridor and into the much larger cavern on the other side. The portal powered by some nightstalker’s magic from a bajillion years ago still shimmered at the far end, waiting for their return. Cheyenne forced herself to keep up with R’leer’s swift gait when they stepped through and returned to the dark staircase beneath the darkseller’s shop.

  With a quickly cast spell and a series of taps on the contraption built into the wall, R’leer closed the portal. The machine of old-school O’gúl tech whirred and spun, hundreds of parts shifting and clicking into place before the stone walls slid closed in front of it again. The sound cut off abruptly, and Cheyenne cocked her head.

  That’s gotta be a seriously powerful sound-proofing spell if I can’t hear what’s behind those doors.

  R’leer headed back up the staircase without a word.

  Cheyenne pushed her exhausted body to follow him, steadying herself once again with a hand against the wall. “Okay. I have another question.”

  He looked over his shoulder with a tiny smile. “You’re more curious than I realized.”

  Yeah, not that curious. “Why are you down here in the bazaar? With your shop and all this dark stuff that no one else wants to dirty their hands with?”

  The other drow didn’t say anything as they climbed the staircase.

  Cheyenne gritted her teeth. “We made a deal. Straightforward answers or I’m burning down the forest to save it by myself.”

  R’leer spun around on the top step, and Cheyenne nearly launched herself back down the stairs as she reeled in surprise. She caught herself, hissing in frustration, and glared up at him.

  “Our agreement didn’t include a timeline for forming my answers.”

  “Oh, great. You know, I didn’t have enough extra-literal drow in my life as it was.” She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to step aside so she could finish hauling herself up the last few steps.

  R’leer took off through the smoky back room, where Ur’syth the wrinkled old Oracle hadn’t moved either since their last encounter. Cheyenne’s nostrils flared, and she forced herself not to breathe through her nose until they were moving through the main part of his shop again.

  “In case you weren’t aware, I’m one of those drow who took Agalyse’s words to heart when she told us what was coming.” He stopped beside one of the display counters to pick up a glowing lump of fossilized something, studying it as if he were a browsing customer instead of the shop’s owner.

  “You mean, random drow don’t find their way down to that portal and into the caves?”

  He ignored her sarcasm and continued along the closest shelf, running his hands over the displayed items. “When the Cycle turned for Ba’rael, many things changed in this world. Hangivol specifically. I merely chose to rely on what allowed our race to thrive at no expense to others.”

  “Drow used to be the only darksellers. I know.”

  With a surprised hum, R’leer turned to her. “Then why are you trying so hard to fight what you are?”

  Cheyenne cocked her head. Not sure how much I can say without causing a whole different kind of shitstorm. “If you knew what I am, I don’t think you’d have to ask that question.”

  “Because your mother is human?”

  A lump formed in her throat, and she forced it back down with a rough swallow. “Would it make a difference if she was?”

  “Hardly.” He walked slowly over to her again and pulled a long strand of clicking beads and bones on his weird headdress away from his hair, then snapped off one of the bottom bones and turned it over and over in his fingers. “I think our agreement should go both ways, Cheyenne. Straight answers. No lies.”

  So, either everyone in this world knows I’m a halfling, or I’ve got some kinda stalker. I guess Ur’syth could’ve told him.

  “Okay.” Cheyenne nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Great. How’s your mother?”

  She almost choked on her next breath, and R’leer chuckled. “I’m not standing here in your shop to talk about my mom. Got it?”

  “You agreed.”

  A growl of frustration burst from her throat before she had the chance to pull it back. “She’s fine, okay? Doing much better, so thanks for fucking asking. How did you even know?”

  “L’zar isn’t the only drow who can read the Weave.” R’leer shrugged. “I may not see it as clearly or succinctly as he does, but I see it.”

  “Huh. And you didn’t run off to a Sorren Gán for that kinda thing, right?”

  A surprised laugh escaped him. “Is that what he did?”

  “Yep.” Not like L’zar’s coming back anytime soon to find his secret’s out.

  “Leave it to the Weaver to walk the most treacherous path.” R’leer glanced down at the bone in his hand and shook his head. “I hope his daughter doesn’t follow too closely in his footsteps.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Take this.” He extended the bone to her, and she wrinkled her nose at it.

  “Not ‘til you tell me what it’s for.”

  “I’ll need more time to prepare for our mass drow exodus to the forest.” R’leer jerked his head at the back of his shop and held her gaze. “I could walk straight into the fortress of the Ironbreak and fetch you, but I’d rather not.”

  She snorted. “Smart move.”

  “I know. Take it, Cheyenne. When it’s time, you’ll know where to find me.”

  Cheyenne slowly accepted the hollow yellowed bone and studied the runes engraved on the side. She looked at him and tilted her head. “So, which poor bastard’s fingers are you wearing in your hair?”

  He gave her a crooked smile and leaned toward her. “My father’s.”

  “Damn.” With a surprised chuckle, she stuck the bone in her pocket and didn’t try particularly hard to wipe away the quick image of her wearing L’zar’s bones like this. “I have to make sure my mom’s taken care of before we can do whatever this is. Probably a few days.”

  “I may be ready sooner.”

  Cheyenne frowned. “Well, I might not be. I know what we have to do, and thanks for the help, but I’m putting her first.”

  “Suit yourself.” R’leer stepped back and raised both hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Until you can accept that you belong exactly where you are, I don’t see any reason for you to stay here.”

  Everywhere you are is exactly where you belong, Cheyenne.

  Those were Neros’ words, and only now did they make the first hint of sense.

  “Wait. R’leer!”

  Violet light burst from his hands as he clapped them together with an echoing smack. Then he thrust them at her, and all th
e wind was knocked out of her without the darkseller making contact. She felt her body separate from the rest of her again, the part that could think and still see R’leer grinning at her as her incorporeal form rose three inches from the floor.

  Cheyenne glared at him and spread her arms. “Are you fucking serious?”

  The darkseller winked, then whatever spell he’d cast on both her forms jerked her across Hangivol, through countless walls and floors and ceilings, and blasted her back into her body lying curled up on the raised mattress in her O’gúleesh apartment.

  A heavy weight pressed her down into unconsciousness, and across the entire city and far below it, she thought she could hear R’leer laughing.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Cheyenne woke with a pounding headache and a disturbingly dry mouth. With a groan, she pushed herself up off the mattress and almost dropped to the floor five feet below her before remembering the platform bed had stairs. Okay, not the worst dream I’ve had in the last few months, but definitely the weirdest.

  The muscles of her arms and legs ached, but she brushed the pain aside and went to the far side of the bedroom to pull up something reminiscent of a sink with her activator and a brief swipe on the metal wall. Two metal panels slid aside to reveal a shallow basin and a spray of cold water from a hidden faucet. “Sure. That works.”

  She splashed water on her face, then held her hair back and stuck her mouth under the gushing stream for a long drink. Without a handle to turn, she had to swipe the wall again in the prompted sequence to turn the whole thing off before the basin disappeared. Then she walked stiffly out of her room and found Ember sitting on the boxy couch.

  “Morning.” The fae smiled at her friend, then cocked her head. “You know, for someone who just slept for fifteen hours, I’d expect you to look at least a little better.”

  “Thanks.” Cheyenne ran a hand through her hair and blinked heavily as she scanned their empty living room. “Fifteen hours, huh?”