The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2

The company had reached the outer edge of Ched Nasad. From ahead there came a faint, far off foul smell and they felt a chill fog hover over the ground. They went slowly, walking along the highway. This place was barren, void of all life.

The highway steepened. They were headed downhill. The city of Ched Nasad had once been suspended from the cavern’s ceiling above them by calcified webbing. But Vhaeraun’s drow Jaezred Chaulssin assassins had cut those supports, and the city had collapsed and all within it killed. The ruins now lay in the chasm’s bottom.

Many houses were there ahead, mostly restored by Vhaeraun. They saw windows, chambers, and halls, a city meant for thousands, but nothing moved in the rubble. Here and there, a dark shape lay on the ground.

As the company drew nearer to the ruins of Ched Nasad, a chill fog of desolation blanketed the ground. This fog, like a cloud of despair, lay wrapped around the empty streets, echoing the sorrow and devastation that now reigned.

They next passed drow weapons lying along the roadway, as if hastily discarded. There were swords, daggers, and drow helmets, some close together, some far apart. And there were stains of blood upon the highway, revealed by their elfish lanterns.

They reached the gates of the city. Someone had broken them in from the outside as the company passed through. Now there were many drow bodies beyond it, hurled to the ground and left twisted there, lying in ruinous heaps. They bore the symbol of the House of Jaezred Chaulssin. Their weapons were broken. Most had been killed from behind while running away. Dead they were and most completely so, their broken bones now only the twisted remnants of ambition.

Nothing moved within.

There was not a sound or a whisper.

The place was in utter ruin. Dead drow lay in their doorways, treasured chests and casks still in their dead hands that they had tried to rescue in fleeing. Doors were broken in and windows smashed.

“These people are dead,” whispered Sar. “By what means were they overthrown? I see not the dead bodies of their attackers.”

“They died by Black Dragons,” said Graybeard, “or so the evidence shows.”

In the mist ahead stood two figures, evidently waiting for them. One was a drow male and the other a drow woman in full battle gear.

“The enemy?” asked Sar.

“No. Friends,” answered Graybeard. “They would be our Black Dragons.”

“Welcome to Ched Nasad,” greeted the woman. “We feared you would not be coming.”

“A fear we had also, Shinayne,” said Graybeard.

Now the boy too recognized her as Shinayne, the leader of the Black Dragons and, beside her, was Kreel.

“You left us as seven,” noted Kreel, “but now I count eight. Has the Elf Keeper duplicated himself?” he asked, noting the second keeper.

“This is Sar, keeper of the Satyrs,” said Graybeard. “We thought we should bring him along.”

“That is good news,” replied Kreel. “I know of two thousand satyrs who shall be overjoyed to hear of it.”

“You have them?” gasped the boy.

“But of course,” said Shinayne. “That was our bargain, was it not?”

“How did you achieve such a sweeping victory?” young Joe wanted to know.

“Better armor, better blades,” said Shinayne, “For which we have Kreel here to thank for that.”

“Let us not also forget,” added Kreel, “that the Jaezred Chaulssin are assassins and do not fight well in defense. Attack by stealth is more their style, but Shinayne here took them out of it.”

“Where are my satyrs?” asked Sar.

“Not far,” answered Kreel. “But neither is Lolth’s army far behind you.”

“And Vhaeraun?” asked Graybeard. “What of him?”

“He does not dwell here,” said Shinayne. “He has escaped us. Which means we shall also have to face his full army of half-orcs when he sends them. That monster, General Ab’shialaa, commands them.”

“Come!” offered Kreel to Sar. “See the satyrs for yourself!”

Sar came forward and, ahead of himself on the grounds beyond, he saw a great many satyrs training with weapons under the teachings of the Black Dragons.

“Too long have I not seen my satyrs,” said Sar in pleasant memory. “For a dozen years I have been only seven days away from them and yet I could come no closer. I thought I would never see them again. To be so near and yet so far away left me hopeless. And yet here, now, all are alive—and practicing with weapons! Where did they come by satyr spears? I am so overcome that, if I do not burst, it will be a marvel!”

“We have made them weapons,” Kreel replied. “I copied the spears the boy in your company had.”

“They are perfect,” said Sar. “They handle them well.”

“And they are of keen tips,” said Kreel. “Vhaeraun and his half-orc men shall wish they never met them. For not only do they have superior adamantine spears but, after so many years underground, the satyrs can now see better than expected.”

“You’re telling me I have an army?” asked Sar.

“One that only awaits your command,” bowed Kreel.

“To what do I owe you for this pleasure?” begged Sar.

“Passage for us to Moon City,” replied Shinayne as a reminder.

“Moon City?” gasped the keeper. “Of this, I did not know!” And he turned to the others. “Why have I not been told?”

“We did not tell you,” said Graybeard, “because we did not know what we would find here when we arrived.”

“But Moon City?” asked Sar. “Do these Black Dragons know what awaits them there?”

“I never asked them,” said Graybeard.

“The drow have tried to reach Moon City before,” Sar stated. “But they were all killed when they reached the surface. The races of men, elves, and dwarves kill them on sight. How can I lead them to certain death?”

“By providing them with a safe escort to Moon City,” answered Graybeard. “Surely your satyrs would be willing to provide that?”

“That we will do, most assuredly,” said Sar. “But what happens to them when we leave them in Moon City? Granted, it lies in an isolated forest, but who shall look after them there?”

“They have their keeper, Eilistraee, to look after them,” said Graybeard. “For that is where she lives.”

“Eilistraee is on the surface?” asked Sar in much surprise.

“That is what these Black Dragons tell me,” said Graybeard.

“I should like to meet her,” Sar said. “Is she as kind and beautiful as they say?”

“She is without equal,” Kreel assured him.

There came the answering sound of Leradien’s jealous claws sharpening themselves upon the rocks. The boy cast her a look of warning, but the red-eyed drider woman did not even look his way. She was incensed bthat any other woman could dare be compared as her equal in beauty.

“Well!” Ronthiel quickly reminded them. “Let us not forget Leradien.”

“Ah!” Kreel noted of her, “no insult intended. Present company excluded, of course.”

Only at these words did Leradien’s claws cease to sharpen. Evidently, his reply satisfied her—for now.

From the Demonweb Pits of the Abyss, Vhaeraun, the keeper of both the House of Jaelre and the House of Jaezred Chaulssin, had learned his male drow priests of Ched Nasad no longer answered his commands. Their last communication was that they were under attack by the dreaded Black Dragons. Guessing it was lost, he changed command channels to his House of Jaelre, currently based in Minauthkeep, an abandoned Elven fort in the forest of Cormanthor on the surface world. These were the drow he had been preparing to capture the surface.

At the hour of midnight, on the night of a full moon, he made contact with his surface general there. Vhaeraun himself had a drow’s appearance; slim, graceful, and with a well-toned physique. Wearing a dark mask and a long cloak, he spoke to his general via his reflection off a water pool.

Vhaeraun spoke with red eyes of anger, “I command you now to obey me. The House of Jaezred Chaulssin has fallen and scattered to mark the rise of your own house. The time of your importance is at hand. Those Black Dragons whose hands slew the House of Jaezred Chaulssin did so to free the satyrs. The Black Dragons would only free the satyrs to use them to reach Moon City. A great army of Man-orcs I shall send against them at Thera Pass under General Ab’shialaa that they may not reach the surface but, if they do, you shall dispose of them there. You shall avenge my fallen followers. Also, prepare my way to Moon City that I might get there before them and assassinate my sister, Eilistraee, for her part in this. Her Black Dragons shall drink deep from the cup of defeat and know the bitter taste of hopelessness. You shall be my right hand.”

With that, his eyes turned a triumphant gold, as his eyes changed color with his mood.

“By which way do they come?” asked his general.

“They arrived here by the Deep Hai,” replied Vhaeraun, whose eyes now turned blue. “But my mother has cut off that route of escape and looks for them from that direction. They should make for Ridder Mark Cavern and the Three Candles. But they could also escape by Perilous Passage. Do not try and cover both. Let my General Ab’shialaa and my mother do so. Instead, march on Moon City. That way, you will be headed where they are headed in case my mother fails. In which case, you will kill them. If my mother is successful and kills the Black Dragons, you will still be in a position to help me carry out my sister’s assassination in Moon City. Either way, you’ll be where you’re needed.”

“I shall serve you, my keeper,” vowed the drow general.

“See that you do not fail.”

The mystic channel between them faded and failed.