Imryne, of House Melrae: When Hope Dissembles (Part One)

[aithne]

(Stone Sky Dramatis Personae)


Imryne, of House Melrae Book Three: Stone Sky

Chapter Nine: When Hope Dissembles

 

     Our name the night may swallow,
     Our lands the churl may take:
     But night nor death may swallow,
     Nor hell's nor heaven's dim hollow,
       The star whose height we take,
     The star whose light we follow
       For faith's unfaltering sake
       Till hope that sleeps awake.

     Soft hope's light lure we serve not,
       Nor follow, fain to find:
     Dark time's last word may smite her
     Dead, ere man's falsehood blight her,
     But though she die, we swerve not,
       Who cast not eye behind.

     Faith speaks when hope dissembles:
       Faith lives when hope lies dead:
     If death as life dissembles,
     And all that night assembles
       Of stars at dawn lie dead,
     Faint hope that smiles and trembles
       May tell not well for dread:
       But faith has heard it said.

     Now who will fight, and fly not,
       And grudge not life to give?
     And who will strike beside us,
     If life's or death's light guide us?
     For if we live, we die not,
       And if we die, we live.

--Swinburne, “Jacobite Song”

 

 

(Imryne, in the deep)

There had to have been less pleasant awakenings in Imryne's life than this one, but she was hard-pressed to think of any.

She was lying on cold stone, naked, her hands bound behind her back and her ankles bound and secured to the same chain that held her hands. Her shoulders and hips were already crying out in pain to her, and she was so cold. From other places on her that hurt, her captors had not been gentle when they had dragged her to wherever she was.

It could be worse. They could have killed me.

She could hear the crack of a whip hitting flesh nearby. She opened her eyes and saw Tar, Sabal, and Nimruil next to each other on the ground, all tied in the same manner as she was, and all evidently still unconscious. Their things were piled against the wall. This was a large room, probably still inside the temple. Rolling slightly, she saw Jevan, naked, hung facing the wall. He was being whipped hard by a lean warrior who was stripped to the waist and sweating. Jevan groaned as the whip bit into the flesh of his back, and Imryne gasped. There was hardly any skin left on his back from shoulders to buttocks, and only a bit left on the back of his legs.

Alystin was nowhere to be seen. Imryne wondered if they had killed her. There was a dead Noquar guard near Jevan; the wound that had killed him was a small hole in his head that appeared to start right under his chin and exited out the top of his head. Jevan's doing? she wondered.

"She is awake." She heard footsteps, and rolled back to the screaming protests of her shoulders. Noquar Phyrra came into view. "Matron Mother Imryne. Good to see you survived. You wouldn't have if it weren't for this problem we have, and Jevan has been most uncooperative."

A flash of utter rage shook Imryne, an unreasoning shock of killing anger that came from deep within her. She let it burn for one glorious heartbeat, then shuttered it. "Which is?" she asked, her voice flat.

Phyrra frowned. "The liquid we need seems to be guarded by something we can't see. How do you shut it off?"

"I need more information than that. And I will need more incentive to talk than you're currently giving me." Calm was descending over her. This was a situation, to be sure, but she knew Phyrra. It was that knowledge that gave her any hope at all of surviving this.

"I will spare a few if you cooperate," she said with a bit of a sneer on her lips. "There is something that, when we attempt to get the vial of liquid out of your cloak, seems to kill our guards. Now, that is some sort of trap you have laid. How do you shut it off?" Realization of what Phyrra was talking about washed over Imryne. Despite herself, she chuckled. "Something funny?" Phyrra asked sharply. She turned to the guard that was whipping Jevan. "Bring him down. Tarithra is awake, let's see how she does on the whip."

That killed any thought of laughter in Imryne. "There is. Because it's not a trap, and it can't be shut off."

"Then how do you have it?" The guard dropped Jevan in a heap next to Imryne. He was bleeding badly, and she felt the pooling blood touch her where her body rested against the stone. He was conscious, but only barely, and his breathing was ragged.

Imryne looked up at Phyrra. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that I do only on the creature's sufferance."

The guard, the shirtless one and another who was stockier than his fellow and fully dressed, picked up Tar. One undid the chain securing her ankles to her wrists, while the other one let his free hand wander over Tar's breasts. Imryne bit back another flash of rage. "Can you mix the two without harm to yourself?" Phyrra asked.

"I'm talking to you, don't hurt Tar." Imryne's fear surfaced in her voice, and she knew her skin had gone sallow.

"She is unharmed for now." She looked over her shoulder. "Just in case, hang her on the wall."

"I could probably mix the two, yes. But I don't think you'd want me to." Imryne's breath was coming hard to her. "That potion is not what you think it is. Well, it is, but the side effects are rather disastrous."

"What are they?"

She wished she could come up with a convincing lie. She would have to go with the truth. "Lloth will turn her face from the one who takes it, and kill everyone around the subject. And when I say everyone, I mean a whole city's worth."

Phyrra sneered. "Nice lie. Chaulssin was destroyed in an earthquake. Nothing more."

"There's an immortal matron mother who could argue that one."

She saw just a slight faltering in Phyrra. Good. She was getting to her. "Why would Lloth not want our matron to be immortal?"

"Because of the price you pay for immortality. You become half elven." She looked Phyrra in the eyes.

A familiar presence brushed the edges of her mind. Noquar has attacked us. Are you still alive?

Ryld. By the Goddess. It was Ryld! She almost lost her composure, and then his message sank in. Attacked. Goddess. Phyrra took a step towards her. "Impossible, why would Lloth do that?"

Silently, to Ryld, she said, I am, but captured by the Noquar. I'm still trying to figure out how to get out of this. Is everyone all right? Do we know why Noquar is attacking? Aloud, she said, "You're making an assumption that this potion was created by Lloth."

So far the family is alive, Ryld said. We have lost guards. Noquar says we stole Ulitree and want her back.

"It wasn't?" Phyrra asked.

The doubled conversation was making Imryne's head hurt even more than it had. "No, it was not," she snapped. "As Matron Mother Chaulssin discovered, to her sorrow. She was trapped in the ruins of her city with no magic, nobody to talk to, and unable to die for almost a grand cycle." They can't have her. Are you prepared to leave the house if need be?

"Hence the reason that we can't touch it, some Ellistraee trick, but you can. Interesting. The rumors are true." She glanced at Jevan. "But that is pretty obvious from the husband you keep."

Faeryl has a transport spell ready.

Good, and Challay has contacted the other houses? Are they lending support? Imryne rolled a little bit to her back. Jevan's blood against her bare skin was sticky, and cold already from the floor. "Like I said, I carry it on the creature's sufferance. This was a fool's errand for you, Phyrra. And for me as well, it seems."

Yes, she has, Ryld said. So far, they have not arrived. But it's only been about five minutes since we contacted them. Ulitree offered to call the drider.

She tried not to let her horror show on her face. Phyrra, fortunately, seemed to be oblivious to the fact that Imryne was carrying on two conversations at once. "We will take you back, then. You can carry them to Miz'ri."

"Only if those with me come along and are kept alive." That's a last resort. If Ulitree calls the drider, we're going to have to deal with Vandree. Play a delaying game until the other houses show up, if you can.

I understand, Mother. I love you. The sense of Ryld's presence faded from her mind.

"That's fine," Phyrra said. "If Jevan twitches wrong we will kill him, is that understood?"

"Understood," Imryne said. She looked around, still seeing no sign of Alystin. "Where is Alystin?"

"She is a Lloth priestess serving the house of blasphemers. She is being punished."

Imryne's eyes narrowed slightly. "She does not serve our house. She merely repays a favor she owes us."

Phyrra shrugged. "She is still working for a house of Ellistraee. She should have killed you, not helped you."

"That wasn't her decision," she said, her voice chill. There was a coldness burning inside of her, a contrast to her rage. She welcomed it; it made thinking easier.

The Noquar nodded to her guard. The whip flicked out, and Tar screamed when it cracked into her flesh. "Keep arguing, if you want. You only hurt Tarithra."

She bit the inside of her cheek, and tasted blood. "You need me, Phyrra. And you need me cooperative. I ask very small things of you in return for my help, and one of those things is Alystin alive and not being tortured. And my wife alive, and also not being tortured."

"She is alive, have no fear of that." Phyrra smiled thinly, disdain on her features. "Were she Ellistraee she would probably be enjoying her--ritual. That is what you call it, is it not?"

Imryne realized what Phyrra was talking about, and it solidified the chill within her. A crime so terrible, so unthinkable, that it was punishable with death by torture in every corner of drow society. Goddess. Poor Alystin. "That's petty, Phyrra. That truly is. Like I said, you only have to do very small things to keep me cooperative. One of them is stopping hurting Alystin. I don't want to carry the goddess-damned potion into the city. But I will, if you stop harming those with me."

Phyrra smiled. "Guards, bring Tarithra down, get Alystin dressed. In chains, no clothing." She turned away, satisfied.

Behind her, Jevan's voice was very quiet, but still strong. "Sabal?" he murmured to her.

She looked over at the far wall and saw that Sabal and Nimruil were awake now. Nimruil struggled at his bonds, testing them, but then subsided. Sabal simply lay bound, looking afraid--and watching Imryne's face closely. "At the right moment."

Phyrra undid the chains that were binding Imryne's ankles and hauled her to her feet. She was surprisingly strong, and her hands were hard. "You make a single wrong move, and all of your companions die." She released Imryne's hands from their bonds, and she gasped as her hands, starved of blood, felt briefly as though they were burning from the inside out. Phyrra handed Imryne her light cloak, not bothering to disguise the evaluative gaze she passed over Imryne's naked skin as she did so. Imryne hid her shudder. "Put it on and pick up the vial."

The stone vial was lying near the hand of the dead guard, having rolled away from his fingertips when he had evidently dropped it after death. That explained the neat hole that had been drilled through his head, at least. Imryne bowed her head and stepped forward.

Doing so dropped her gaze past Phyrra's face, to her waist. She sucked in her breath. On a belt that hang around Phyrra's hips, over the plain dress that was almost practical for a long walk through the deep, was a stitched leather vial holder. There were three empty slots in it, and three full.

One of those three vials was a familiar stone vial, capped with lead and with midnight-blue wax atop that. Phyrra had the other via. She had expected as much.

Phyrra, you will die for this. And soon.

But for now she kept her silence, and reached for the vial.

(Challay, in House Melrae)

Ryld raised his head. "She lies," he said quietly, in his oddly accented voice. "Mother is alive. I just contacted her. They are captured, but still alive."

Lesrak said, "That's it, they've broken through the last door. Looks like the door wiped out about fifty of them, but they're through. Noquar is in the inner house."

Relief and terror shook Challay. She drew a long breath in, and felt Kethan and Lesrak's hands tighten on her shoulders. "There's hope, then. I just have to keep the house from falling." She pressed her lips together, and then an awful realization caught her breath in her throat. Imrae. This is Imrae's doing. A test. "Ulitree, Mother was right. Don't contact the driders. Don't give Vandree the excuse they need to slaughter us all. I don't think Noquar did this on their own." Another explosion shook the walls. "Now what?" she cried, alarmed.

Phaere was staring at the section of wall that showed the front gates. "That went up much farther back. Dear Goddess. It's Xalyth."

"They actually came through," she said, amazed. "The last house I was expecting." Behind Xalyth came forces from more houses--T'sarran, Aleval, Naerth, and a contingent of mages from Oblodra, fanning out from the tight group they had been clustered in. Around her, Challay could see the Noquar forces pulling forces from the inner house to meet the new threat. Challay fisted her hands and began pacing again, tense and helpless. The walls showed her that a force was still inside the walls, and they were bringing a stout battering ram to the doors of the matron's apartments.

The ram hit the door with a slam as loud as an explosion, and the wood and metal bowed inward. "Faeryl, transportation spell, now. The door should take a few more of those hits, but we should go now." Faeryl’s transportation spell took only a few seconds to set up. "Guards and children first," Challay said. "Kethan, Lesrak, both of you, go. Ryld and Ulitree, you too."

Quickly, the room began to empty through the magical door. The ram pounded again and again against the physical door, the metal bars wailing in protest as they bent and deformed. It burst in far less time than Challay thought it should have, and she stepped back and watched in satisfaction as the wards on the door burned the four warriors holding the ram to smoldering corpses as they passed through. She turned to the magical door, ready to leave--

It winked out of existence as Noquar Miz'ri stepped into the room, eight guards behind her, gesturing sharply. The family resemblance between her and Ulitree was distinct; it was impossible to look at her and not be convinced that Ulitree had been birthed from her womb. Challay gritted her teeth. Ulitree was gone and away; remaining were Chaulssin, Urlryn, Phaere, and the illithid. At least Mother won't return home to find all the family dead, she thought, and opened her mouth and began to shape her will into a spell.

"Did you come to talk, Matron Mother Miz'ri?" Challay demanded.

"No," Miz'ri said, and on that word the guards behind her raised their crossbows smoothly and opened fire.

Beside her, she saw the others dive away, and tried to drop to the floor. The concentration she was spending on her spell made her reflexes dull. Slow, too slow--

Then in front of her was Chaulssin, her arms spread, and there were five crossbow bolts in her chest. She made a surprised noise and stumbled back to collapse against Challay, bleeding. She was too startled at still being alive to react for a heartbeat. Then she was on her feet, unleashing a bolt of lightning from her fingers at the matron mother and her guards. Around her, the others were climbing to her feet. Phaere had a bolt through her leg, Urlryn was bleeding where one had passed all the way through her bicep, and the illithid had one lodged in its shoulder.

The illithid made a gesture with one hand, closing its eyes and then opening them again. Like a ripple of heat, a nearly-invisible wave washed over the Noquar people, and almost as one the warriors crumpled and collapsed. Miz'ri looked behind her, startled, then narrowed her eyes.

Into the silence Phaere called fire, wreathing around the matron mother, burning her skin, hair, and clothes. Four knives buried themselves in Miz'ri's abdomen, thrown by Urlryn almost faster than sight, and the matron mother fell. When she sat up, Challay was already there. She grabbed Miz'ri's hair and held a knife to her throat, hoping it would stop Miz'ri from trying to kill them.

It did, for the moment. Miz'ri's eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. "Do you need her?" Urlryn asked.

Challay glanced down the hallway. It was empty, except for bodies. "I was thinking she might answer some questions. But she'll just lie."

Urlryn nodded. "I think you are right. It's more demoralizing to the fight to see you walking with her head."

With one smooth motion, Challay slit the matron mother's throat, releasing a spray of arterial blood. "Good idea," she said as she released Miz'ri. Miz'ri's hands went to her throat, trying in vain to stanch the blood that spilled over them, then she went limp, her breath rattling in the wound. A few moments later, the pumping blood stilled, slowing down to the sluggish flow of veins draining.

Challay knelt in the pool of blood and cut off the matron mother's head. It was harder than she thought it was going to be, especially when it came to finding a path between vertebrae for her knife to travel. Phaere, nearby, knelt next to Chaulssin. She looked at Challay, and shook her head.

Dead, Challay thought, and sliced more savagely. She died to save my life.

The illithid approached, its gait unsteady. Mistress?

She finished her last cut, and Miz'ri's head came free from her shoulders. "Yes? Oh, goddess, your shoulder. We should get the bolt out."

It shook its head slightly. That's not it. What I did drained me. I need to eat. These guards are not dead, just unconscious.

She sucked her breath in, realizing what it meant. "Oh. Mother said you don't like eating sentient beings. But--if you can stand it--we were going to kill them anyway..." She realized she was babbling. "How many do you need?"

Probably all of them. It will be unpleasant for them and you, if you stay.

Her gorge attempted to rise, and she looked away from it. It had saved her life at considerable danger to its own. "We can go. Do we need to bind them for you?"

It spread its hands, gloved and three-fingered. No, they will not wake for many minutes. When I start feeding, then they will wake one by one for a minute or two before death.

"Oh." She straightened. "All right, then. We should go show off this thing, anyway." She lifted Miz'ri's head, the matron mother's bloodstained hair tangled in its intricate braids, askew. "Urlryn, Phaere, with me?"

They came with her, and silently they paced the width of the inner house, to the outer. Challay lifted Miz'ri's head high, and by groups the nerve of the warriors broke, as they realized there was nothing left to fight for. Commanders called for retreat, and allied warriors fell on them, slaughtering. Xalyth colors were everywhere. So many. I hope Mother is home in time to deal with the fallout from this.

She ended up in the courtyard in front of the outer gates with Greyanna, Pellanistra, Naerth Akordia, T'sarran Jhulae, and Aleval Filfaere, third daughter of Tallerene. She acknowledged them all with a slight bow. "Thank you very, very much for coming."

Greyanna took a half-step forward. Challay tried not to flinch. She had only rarely been before Xalyth Greyanna, but she knew enough to mistrust the light in her eyes. She was wearing what looked like well-worn leathers, fitted to her tall, lean frame. "It's our alliance, we come in need. Is your mother alive?"

"As far as I know, but captured. So I'm not sure how long alive will last." She glanced around the loose half-circle. "She's in the deep. I know the general area she was going to, but not the location."

"Too far for us to be of any real help?" Greyanna asked. "If we can, we need to liberate her."

Challay wondered if Mother would find Greyanna's sudden concern for her health amusing. "Days away. I need to see if I can find out exactly where she is, and whether she's being brought back and how. If those who captured her are simply going to transport back, we have a problem."

"We need to deal with Noquar," Greyanna said confidently. "Nothing we can do for your mother. You can contact her if you can and find out the situation, but Noquar's house needs to fall. It's very weak. Lost their matron mother, and now all of their lives."

"Noquar left several Melrae direct line daughters alive. By Vandree's own rules, their lives are ours, so there should be no problem there." She turned slightly, surveying the courtyard. "I need to find Omareth and see how many guards we need to remain here."

Greyanna tilted her head slightly. "Leave your guard and send a token force. The rest of us have few losses. We can take what is left of Noquar." She paused, and smiled thinly. "In your name, of course."

Challay glanced at Urlryn. Her mother's wife nodded slightly. "Very well. Let me round up that force for you. Pellanistra, can I speak with you a moment in private, since you're here?"

"Certainly," Pellanistra said. She allowed Challay to draw her off to one side. Challay had never gotten comfortable with the Oblodra matron mother, despite occasionally having had lessons with her for the past few cycles.

Right now, if she had to choose between Greyanna and Pellanistra, she knew who she would choose. "Could your people keep an eye on the Xalyth forces and try to make sure they don't try their usual tricks?" she asked quietly. "Greyanna is being suspiciously helpful."

"We will, but this is not too out of character," Pellanistra said. "She loves blood, the more spilled the better. And a house dying provides her with entertainment. Oblodra will not participate in Noquar's destruction, if you don't mind. I would rather seal these walls and the underground tunnel. We can re-ward them for you."

"That would be very, very helpful, thank you. I can concentrate on seeing if I can find my mother." She rubbed her forehead, and pulled her hand away bloody; she had gotten a cut above one eyebrow, from the way it felt. She hadn't noticed. "She was captured by Noquar. I don't know who they sent to get her."

Pellanistra looked over her shoulder, and gestured at a knot of mages wearing Oblodra robes. "Do what you do best. Seal this place up tight." The mages nodded and moved almost as one, picking up their kits and walking towards the walls. Pellanistra returned her attention to Challay. "Probably one of the daughters. I wouldn't worry too much. The Noquar daughters here are dead, if I know Greyanna. Your mother, if she is alive, will kill any out there."

The Oblodra matron mother's voice was utterly confident. Challay wondered what side of her mother she knew to make her so convinced that Imryne would kill anyone in her way, who attempted to keep her from her home and her family.

Then she remembered all the things that Mother had taught her, endless discussions about her steps in the council. Yes. If Mother is alive, there is no force in this earth that will keep her from us. Pellanistra turned away abruptly, the conversation over, and went to join her mages. Challay went to find a message potion to call Faeryl and the children back home, and to find Urlryn.

Mother would be home soon. There was work to be done before she arrived.

 

(Imryne, in the deep)

Noquar Phyrra was watching Imryne very closely as she tucked the vial into a pocket of her cloak. Imryne felt her nakedness acutely, shifting the cloak so it covered most of her. The guards moved again to bind her hands behind her back.

After being released for a moment, her shoulders felt a little bit better as her hands were once again bound. Across the room, four guards brought in Alystin, her hands bound tightly and chains hobbling her ankles. “Up, the rest of you,” Phyrra growled. “Guards, get all of the prisoners on their feet.”

Imryne took the opportunity to look over Alystin. Her skin was mottled with bruises, her hair disheveled, and she looked around her with a defiant stare. Her mouth was swollen as if with kisses, though Imryne doubted very much that any kissing whatsoever had been happening. But the thing that made Imryne wince for the Lloth priestess was how she walked. She betrayed pain in every motion, and her thighs were covered in a sticky substance, drying to a sheen in the dim light.

The rest were being hauled to their feet, the bindings on their ankles linked with hobbles. She looked around, trying to determine her next move. Jevan gave a groan as he was pulled upright, a sound of deep pain. She looked over at him and bit her lip. He was still bleeding from deep gashes, the skin on his back nearly gone, and he was pale as paper. If the bleeding didn’t stop, he was likely to go into shock before long. Then, without tending, he would likely die. Walking would only make it worse. 

There was nothing for it but to speak up. “Phyrra.”

The Noquar daughter turned to her. “Yes?”

“Jevan is badly hurt, and walking is only going to make it worse. He needs treatment or healing if he's going to survive.”

Phyrra sneered. “He’s an elf.” She paused, and Imryne kept looking at her steadily.   “Fine, bind him up. You, free her hands.”

The guard who was sticking close to Imryne unbound her hands, removing the chains. She stretched and then knelt next to Jevan, tearing strips of cloth off of her cloak to use as bandages. She could bind up the worst of the wounds, stop most of the bleeding, but it was so little. She had nothing of magic to give him, since losing consciousness like she had meant that she would need to clear her mind and meditate to get in touch with her magic once more.

She wrapped the cloth around his torso, and though what she did must have hurt immensely, he did not make a sound other than his harsh breathing. “This is the best I can do for the moment,” she told him quietly, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from his face.

He was so haggard-looking, his skin drained of all color and his eyes looking sunken. But he looked up at her, and his eyes were still the same, though filled with pain. “Thank you, love.”

She bent forward, dropping her voice low. “If I can speak to the creature, it might help.”

Jevan smiled, just barely. “Throw the vial to Phyrra. Sabal can do the rest.”

Imryne struggled to keep a grin from spreading across her face. “Have I ever told you you’re brilliant?”

“That’s why you love me.”  His voice was unsteady, but there was a small smile on his lips.

Imryne sat back on her heels, one hand slipping into the pocket that held the vial. “Phyrra?”

Phyrra turned. “What now?” she asked, exasperated.

“Catch.” Imryne threw the vial at Phyrra, hard.

Phyrra’s hand darted out to catch the vial, seemingly without volition.   She looked down at her hand, a confused expression crossing her face. Then she dropped the vial.

It clattered on the ground as holes began to open in Phyrra’s head. Starting as red pinpoints and quickly expanding, they quickly overtook her surprised face. A few seconds later, her head was more hole than flesh, and a moment after that Phyrra’s headless body began to fall to the ground. She had not had time to scream.

“Sabal, now!” Imryne cried.

Sabal’s head snapped up, and he jerked his hands apart, snapping the chain like he might a thread. The guards were still goggling at Phyrra’s headless body when Sabal began to move, and their stunned stupor was deadly. In Sabal’s hands, the chains that bound him became weapons.

Fifteen guards fell in twice as many heartbeats. Sabal beat heads in, ripped out throats, and in one memorable moment wrapped his chain around the neck of a guard and used it to rip the warrior’s head off. For a few long heartbeats after the last fell, he stood still, the feral beast in him that was so like his father’s alive in his eyes, that empty animal gaze that made the hair on the back of Imryne’s neck stand up.

Then he blinked, and Sabal was back in those blue eyes. He dropped the chains he had been holding and broke the rest of them free, including Alystin. “Thank you, Sabal. Very, very well done,” Imryne told her son.

He smiled a little, and ducked his head. “Thank you, Mother, how is Father?”

“Hurt, but I think we can patch him up enough that he’ll survive the night, especially if we don’t go anywhere,” she told him. “And in the morning, we can get him healed up better. Go ahead and help Nimruil find our clothes, Sabal. Tar and I will tend your father.”  Tar was already kneeling next to Jevan, a healing kit open next to her. Together, she and Imryne used all of the bandages in the kit and made makeshift ones out of the clothes of the dead drow scattered around them. 

Imryne accepted her shirt and trousers when Sabal handed them to her, once Jevan was no longer bleeding as badly. “Let’s move to another room,” she said quietly. “I have something to tell all of you.”  Sabal scooped his father up, and they went and found a nearby room that was empty of death. “So. Ryld contacted me when I was talking to Phyrra. He said that Noquar had attacked Melrae.”

Tar gasped. “Goddess!  Are they alive, or did our house fall?”

“I don’t know. He contacted me only minutes into the attack. He said that they had claimed I was dead. I haven’t had a chance to try contacting him again, but I will now.”  She had her staff in her hand, and seated herself next to Jevan, who was prone on the stone floor. Tar came to sit next to her pressing herself against Imryne. Sabal and Nimruil clustered near, as well. Alystin held herself apart, sitting with her back to the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest.

Imryne closed her eyes, and concentrated. Ryld? Are you alive?

The feeling from him was massive relief. Yes, Mother, obviously you are too. Are you still captured?

No, Phyrra and the rest are dead. Your father is badly hurt, but we think he’ll make it. How is the house? Did it fall?

There was satisfaction in the way his mind brushed against hers. The house didn’t fall. Our allies turned them back. Challay killed Miz’ri. All the family is alive, we lost a lot of guards and Chaulssin. Noquar is gone.

Imryne’s breath was sharp in her throat. Chaulssin. Ah, no, she was safer where she was. Who killed Noquar? Was it us?

Xalyth did, mostly, but T’sarran, Naerth and Aleval helped. Oblodra is here repairing the wall breach and the tunnel breach. We sent a token force. Xalyth took the house in our name.

I’m sure that thrilled Greyanna to her very toes, she said dryly.  She probably doesn’t get her fill of blood very often these days.

She was quite pleased. Are you returning soon, Mother? Ryld asked urgently. We all want you to come back.

She rubbed her forehead, thinking. I should be up to a transport spell tomorrow, so I’ll be home either tomorrow or the next day. I may have to send Alystin home first.

Mother, that may be unwise.

Why?

His voice was cautious. Ulitree was a secret that we have kept successfully for many years. Miz’ri asked for her by name. How did she know?

Do you think Alystin betrayed us? she asked.

I don’t know, but the circumstances seem to point her way. She arrives and days later, while you are far away, we are attacked and so are you.

Imryne sighed. True enough. I’ll bring her back with us, then. If she refuses to talk the illithid can find out more. I’m glad all of you are all right.

Ryld’s presence was warm, almost physical as Tar leaning against her. And we you. I love you, Mother. I am sure that goes for all the rest of here too.

I love you, too. Tell Challay we’ll be home in the morning.  She felt Ryld’s presence brush by her and then vanish. For a long moment, she stayed where she was, feeling her heart beat, listening to the blood in her ears.

She was alive. They were all alive. One more day. We have won one more day together.

Then she opened her eyes and began to tell her family the news.

 

(to part two)