50: Endings

[Start from the beginning]

The city was beginning to return to normal after the horrific recent events. Little, it seemed, could subdue the people of Haredil for long. Commerce was essential, and the city's inhabitants had lives to lead, even after the temporary inconvenience of a plague of zombies. The market was open again, sellers hawking their wares, and, for the most part, there had been very little structural damage.

And yet, if you knew the city as well as Almandar did, you could tell that it had not yet quite got over the shock. It had been only two days after all, and, if you looked carefully, you could see the haunted expressions on some of the faces, the nervous glances that tried to remain well-hidden. Trade might be going on, but it was a little less raucous than usual. Many had lost loved ones or friends, and much of the previous day had been spent cleaning bodies from the streets. That was something that nobody could forget in a hurry.

Of course, he was one of the few who had any idea what had really happened. For the rest, there was no clear indication that the undead would not return. Last night had been quiet indeed, everyone barricaded inside, lest it should all happen again. A few pointed to the double Lunar eclipse, saying that that had somehow magically caused the dead to rise, but others pointed out – quite rightly – that they didn't really know that. Nobody was even sure quite where the dead had risen from, and there was no good explanation as to why they had vanished so suddenly.

45: Portal

[Start from the beginning]

The fireball had had the desired effect, sowing confusion among the cloaked figures conducting the ceremony. Calleslyn had, at least for the moment, saved the intended victim from her fate, but that hardly meant that the danger was over. As she had said to Dolrim just moments before, there were too many of them, and it was likely that at least some were capable of fighting back. Valmor certainly would be, and it was unlikely he was alone.

She had had no choice but to attack when she did, but she and Dolrim were heavily outnumbered. She just had to hope that the sudden explosion and magical assault had evened up the odds a little.

"I'm going to try and protect her," she told the dwarf. After all, the conspirators were surely still desperate to complete their ritual, and that would mean taking their sacrifice back. The woman was a nun, helpless against them at the best of times. Even if she tried running, the building was surrounded by a ring of undead, and that wouldn't end well. So Calleslyn had to do something.

44: Ceremony

[Start from the beginning]
Lady Tarissa bit back the angry words she had been planning when she saw the desperate look on Almandar's face. She had specifically told him to be quick when he went to talk to the bard, Yarai, and yet he had, in fact, been some hours, leaving her on her own back at the villa waiting for him. She could guess what he had been doing; she wasn't that naïve. Yet it looked as if something really had him worried, and her recriminations could wait. No matter his peccadilloes, he was an experienced adventurer, and he wouldn't look quite so rushed without good reason.

"What is it?" she asked curtly, instead of delivering her rebuke.

"It's tonight!" said the magician, somewhat breathlessly, "and the sun is almost set now! That's when they're starting it!"

"Explain," she snapped, "what have you learned?"

He visibly steadied himself, clearly flushed from having run most of the way here from… well half-way across town, presumably. "There's a ceremony that somebody has to conduct to summon this thing called 'the Presence'… I'm still not clear what it is, but it's something very powerful and demonic. It's been here since before the city even existed, and tonight, somebody is planning to summon it. It will give them power over demons, or something… Hell on Earth quite literally, or something much like it."

"Where is this ceremony? Who's behind it?"

41: Sceptre

[Start from the beginning]
Zarenis sat on the bed in her tiny apartment room, thick curtains drawn against the morning light outside. She had handed over the censer to Lady Amloth – or at least, to her manservant, for she felt reluctant to meet the drow herself now. She had been invited in, which indicated that she was expected, but had declined the offer. She had fulfilled her mission, and was now rid of the infernal artefact that she had been hired to collect. In return, she had a large payment of gold coins, enough to keep her in relative comfort for a while.

So it should all have been over. That was it, mission accomplished, her part in Lady Amloth's schemes completed. Except, of course, that it wasn't.

She looked at the sceptre she held in her hands. It was made of a bluish-black metal, either crafted with some sort of pigment worked into it, or perhaps made of a substance she could not identify. Its tip bore a set of three sharp spikes, arching around a clear crystal with a slight tinge of yellow. Those spikes had proved deadly when she had used the thing as a weapon, making it almost as much a spear as a sceptre, although it was a little cumbersome to be used as a true weapon of war. The shaft was hexagonal, engraved with writing in what she could only assume was an infernal script unknown to her.

The sceptre had much the same effect on her as the censer, or perhaps the latter's effect had not faded. Either way, while she had the transformation under control, it took an effort of will to maintain her normal form, keeping herself from being more noticeable among normal humans than she already was. In that form, she looked even more demonic than her father had, and the tainted blood had run stronger in his veins than it did in hers. She wasn't comfortable with it, preferring to vanish into the background… but the problem was, the sceptre spoke to her.

31: History

[Start from the beginning]

“I hope you know where you’re going,” said Nyvara, as the three of them trod the branching passageways beneath the city.

“I know the direction,” replied Zarenis, “I can feel it. This thing,,, the Presence, whatever you want to call it… it shows me images sometimes, but mostly I just sense the way I have to go. All I have to do is work out the details.”

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring,” complained the sorceress, “how do we know it isn’t lying to you?”

“It has no reason to. It wants to be released, and my demonic ancestry is the strongest link it has to this world.” She didn’t add that the Presence had already shown her that it had been responsible for her own birth, through a lesser demon. Since she had touched the censer, it could send her visions while she was awake, and she had experienced first hand its ability to manipulate the infernal taint in her blood, tying them together.

At least, she had now been able to gain some measure of control over the new powers in her blood. She was able to suppress all the transformations it wanted to make in her body, restoring her eyes and horns to their usual forms, and now looked as human as any tiefling should do, not like the hideous half-demon she had been at risk of becoming.

21: Break-in

[Start from the beginning]

Zarenis tightened the cords on the leather jerkin she had put on over her regular clothes. If she got into a fight with the adventurers, it would make very little difference, but against anyone else it might at least help a little. And hopefully, she would not be facing the adventurers themselves at all. In and out, as quickly as possible, while they were away from the villa – that was the plan.

She pulled a chest out from under her bed. Made of a plain dark wood, it was exceptionally sturdy, the place to keep her most important possessions. It took a little while to disarm the traps and open the locks she kept on it, but soon she opened it and removed the items she would need for the mission.

First came a pair of boots made from a pure black, felt-like material. She pulled them on, savouring the softness against her skin, wiggling her toes against the fabric for a second. Comfort was not the purpose of the boots, of course… but that didn’t stop them from feeling good. She pulled a pair of fingerless gloves on next; they were made of especially supple leather, and their contact made her fingers tingle for a moment as they adapted to her hands, working their magic.

Then there were two rings, looking much like regular jewellery, although they were anything but. Onto her right ring finger went a band of silver clasping a small sapphire, and onto the other hand a plain, but slightly heavier, golden ring. A small ceramic vial went into a pouch at her belt, along with the greyish wand that she had recently bought from Nyvara. Neither was a regular part of her equipment, but both would be needed for the approach she had in mind.

17: Preparations

[Start from the beginning]

The little alley was always quiet, and was even more so at this hour of the early morning, after the last of the prostitutes and drug peddlers had departed. Above, the sky was a clear dark blue, already lightening on the eastern horizon. The lesser moon was just visible above the rooftops, a small, baleful, yellowish half-disc, insignificant in the pre-dawn twilight.

Only creatures of the night were active at such a time, but Zarenis was hardly the only such person in the city. Another was the woman she had come here to meet, Nyvara. Even so, the tiefling hoped that she had not arrived too late, for Nyvara was human, and even she had to sleep at some time.

There was only one other person in the alley, a skinny and sallow-looking woman sitting hunched on a doorstep, lank and unwashed hair framing her thin face. The stranger did not acknowledge Zarenis’ presence, looking away with disinterest. It was always unwise to pay too much visible attention to passers-by in this part of the city, for few people here wanted attention.

13: Demon

The rosy dawn light outside could barely penetrate the thick curtain that Zarenis had placed over the window to her one-room garret apartment. For her, whenever possible, the day was a time for sleeping. She pulled the thin sheets around her body, resting her head on the pillow and closing her eyes to shut out the view of the little room.

One day, perhaps, she could live somewhere better, but for now this dismal little hole would have to suffice. She spent as little time here as she could, using it only for sleeping and washing. And for now, after a long night of activity, sleep was all she required.

It came quickly, enfolding her in its peaceful arms. And soon, Zarenis began to dream…

The city was spread out below her, stars twinkling in a night sky above. She seemed to be flying, a cool breeze ruffling her hair as the city slowly moved by beneath. She was fully dressed, she realised, not in the sleeveless nightdress that she had worn to bed.

There was something odd about that, wasn’t there? Before her train of thought could follow that idea, she noticed something else strange: the city was not quite right. Some of the buildings were different, with less stories or newer roofs. In fact, newer seemed to be the right word… this was the city as it might have been years ago. Quite when, she had no idea, but supposed that it must have been before she was born.

8: Spying

[Start from the beginning]

Zarenis woke up as the sun began to dip in the sky, casting its orange light through the narrow window in her garret apartment. She had slept through much of the day, which was not unusual. She preferred the night over the day, when harsh sunlight could make things all too visible. At night, she could see better than humans, or even elves, could, allowing her to see without being seen.

That much was practical, especially given her chosen stock in trade, but there was also, she thought, beauty in the night. Haredil’s skies were often clear, an advantage of its arid environment, allowing the stars and moons to shine brightly amidst the velvet blackness. And darkness was so much more beautiful than harsh light. The way things shrunk into the shadows made them somehow cleaner, purer, than they were when their reality was exposed by sunlight.

Her diabolic heritage might also have been relevant, of course.

She slipped out of the bed, pushing the thin sheets back into place, and quickly dressed. She did not have a wide range of clothes, just enough spares to ensure that some would always be clean, and her tastes were simple – and practical – enough. Perhaps if, one day, her job should take her to some high class party in disguise, she might have to buy an expensive dress, but the thought held no attraction for her.

4: Hiring

[Start from the beginning]
Soft soled leather boots made little sound as the dark cloaked figure strode along the back street. The houses nearby were large, some of the more opulent ones in Haredil, many of them lit by lantern light from within at this time of night. Even were it not for the darkness outside, little would have been visible of the figure’s features, shrouded beneath the long, hooded cloak. The figure glanced about, to make sure that no one was watching, but the street was otherwise deserted. It stepped up to the back door of one of the homes, and knocked softly.

After a long pause, the door opened slightly, and a human face peered out. Apparently satisfying himself as to the identity of the visitor, the man opened the door further, and the figure disappeared within.

The room within was gloomy, lit only by the candelabrum that the manservant held. Zarenis pulled back the hood on her cloak, revealing a pretty, yet serious face with pale skin and shoulder-length brown hair. However, her heritage was immediately apparent, as was, perhaps, her reason for concealment. Just peeking up from beneath her hair were the tips of two tiny, black horns, and her eyes glittered in the candlelight like two dark garnets, the reddish tinge decidedly unnatural.

“I will inform her ladyship of your presence,” said the man, not reacting at all to her appearance, “please wait here.” With that, he was gone, taking the candle with him, and plunging the room into near-total darkness.