The Night's Companions

 

he thunderous roaring echoed distantly in helm's ears as he slowly approached the swift-running River Rega. The river's banks were high due to spring flooding, thus the greater than normal sound. After leaving the Dual Cities of Dettirn, Helm was headed south toward Stronghold to buy provisions and then turn on to Dwarves' Den where he would sell his services as a mercenary fighter. It was rumored in the north of the Vale that the dwarves were having problems with the orcs of the Wetlands, who were also said to be preparing to finish the dwarves conclusively. Helm also knew that the dwarves would pay a higher price for a larger group of mercenaries than for a single one, especially if the group had worked together in the past. Hopefully, Helm thought, I'll find some friends on the way to Dwarves' Den and talk them into coming with me for the greater silver to be gained.

Helm looked ahead on the trail he followed upon hearing the sound of heavily sodded feet coming from ahead up the trail. There are two forms of heavily soled boots: those of the Dark Ones (ogres, orcs, goblins, etc.) and those of the dwarves. Helm knew that he could get along with the dwarves (being a dwarffriend)--unless they were gray dwarves, the evil duergar. The Dark Ones were the problem, he would have to fight his way past them if they were encountered. Well, whoever they are, they're just around the next bend in the trail and by my guess aren't in any great hurry, Helm thought. He checked his bastard sword to make sure he could ready it easily, then he fitted his wooden shield to his right arm, and checked the clasps on his banded mail. He knew his shield being readied would pose no threat to anyone, even to the most untrusting folk.

As the owners of the footsteps grew nearer and cleared the bend, Helm whispered, "The Dark Ones always seem to find me!" Helm's bastard sword seemed to fly into his hand as he raced toward the oncoming hobgoblins. The first hobgoblin didn't even have time to touch his morningstar before he was falling backwards with Helm's blade in his throat. The second, taller hobgoblin tripped over the body of his companion, and Helm's heel quickly found this hobgoblin's throat, crushing his windpipe and thus choking and killing him. After pulling his blade from the smaller one's spinal column, he searched both bodies. He found only five copper pieces and a moldy loaf of bread, which he promptly hurled into the forest for the birds. Then he paused to pray to Tempus, God of Battles, and to Helm the Everwatchful, his namesake, thanking them for his luck with the second hobgoblin.

After covering a few miles unmolested, darkness began to thicken in the east. Helm soon found a small glade just off the trail to make camp. He set only a small, smokeless fire--making sure no Dark Ones would see its light or the stars blotted out by its smoke. He rose with the sun the next day and began traveling early, so he could reach Stronghold by late morning.

Traveling took a turn for the worst when the sky grew dark and then opened up in huge torments of rain and lightning. After many hours of slow travel, Helm came upon the Rega, which because of the storm was even higher in its banks than earlier. He traveled south along the Rega until he reached the regular crossing point. There was a barge here which Helm paid the regular three copper pieces crossing fee and went over upon. The thick, stone walls of Stonghold were visible across the swiftly moving water. Thank Helm, Helm thought as the walls grew nearer and a warm bed tempted him onward.

In a half-hour's time, Helm passed through the first of four alternating gates on his way toward the free soldiers/hirable mercenary barracks of the South Quarter. Helm went along the stone-paved street toward the Barracks Master's office where he would arrange a bunk for himself and ask around to see if there were any mercenaries willing to join him in his voyage to Dwarves' Den.

"Master Dritus! Are you awake, old friend? It's Helm, I'm looking for a bunk," Helm yelled as he pounded on the door of the Master's office and bedroom.

A very small, mouse-like man wearing red-stained leathers opened the door and peeped around the edge. He looked about 60 years old with his blonde-white, unkept hair and squinting eyes. Upon seeing Helm, Dritus instantly changed to a man early into his forth decade and obviously one of the best impersonators and disguise men alive. Dritus knew Helm from his own youth as a brash, over-eager mercenary-adventurer, whom the fighter/thief took under his wing to teach him patience and timing (and women but Helm tries to forget most of those events). "Well, youngster, I would ask for your credentials, but already knowing their lack, I'll show you to your bunk," this in his best, raspy, old-timer's voice followed by a smile from a mouth which held better teeth than most courtiers.

The sleeping lodge that Dritus lead Helm to was the best allowed mercenaries--contrary to what Dritus said but usual procedure between the two friends. The lodge was spartan; holding a full twenty bunks, ten on each side with a partition in the middle (to divide the men from the women) each was equipped with a set of wool blankets and a clean, straw-filled mattress. Dritus lead Helm to a bed in the far corner near a window--his logic being that security never hurt. Helm agreed knowing that Dritus was still alive after his 34 years while leading a life as wild and varied as his had been (and still was when the fancy took him).

"Master Dritus, in one week I plan to go to Dwarves' Den to see if the rumors of the invasion are true and then hire myself, and any others that I can find before leaving, to the dwarves to expand their ranks. Who are the reliables that I could count on to stand with me, preferably those that I know or at least know of already?" Helm asked knowing that Dritus was a good enough judge of character to give dependable advice.

"The Godeyes of the street," Dritus said with a wink and a smile making play at the followers of Helm the Everwatchful, "agree with the rumors that you've heard and also according to Everwatching Eyes the Orcs are already on the move. You only have about three days, maybe four on the outside, before you have to leave. Now the adventurers will be an easier manner, there are many staying in this barracks who are known to be dependable and I know of an old thief that would be happy to act as company scout."

Helm only smiled to himself and was glad that Dritus decided that he needed a little excitement in his life. It was known that Dritus was one of the better thieves and also a dependable fighter which complimented his thieves' skills completely. At the same moment, Dritus was thinking how much Helm had grown as a fighter and especially as a leader in the years since his self-appointed position as Helm's tutor. I'll be glad to serve under him, Dritus thought, and he probably still needs advice every now and then anyhow.

"Well, how do you want our company to be composed, youngster?" the thief asked.

With a startled look for the more experienced man, Helm said what he had been thinking about on the journey here, "We'll need at least one, but preferably two more warriors, we already have a scout, an adventuring priest would be a great help but I think we could probably survive if we had several skilled in herbal healing and some potions for emergencies, and finally knowing how both the dwarves and most of the Dark Folk distrust magic I'd like to have a wizard, even the simplest mageling would give us at least a small advantage. Any additions that you'd like to add?"

"I think the cleric is something that we will have to have and another thief is always a good addition to any group, especially if skilled in many different fields at a time. I'll pass the word to those I think will try this venture with us and have them meet tomorrow morning outside this barrack at first light. You'll be able to look them over yourself then and we can probably leave before midday."

As Lathander's glory spread its pink glow in the east at the start of the following day, a man of slight build and small stature moved along a side street alley on his way to the meeting at the barracks. His step was measured, holding a sort of controlled grace that was spawned more from an economy of motion rather than fluidity of step. His eyes wandered the same as any other travelers but in the mind of a drunk in the alley it seemed that this man still watched you after passing out of sight.

The small animals of the alley didn't seem to sense this though, and the drunk was amazed to see the young fighter followed by a total of three alley cats and an underfed wolf-hound. Before reaching the end of the alley the warrior turned and tossed a piece of what must have been his breakfast to each of the creatures and whispered something which caused the cats to turn quietly and leave with their meal, but the dog only came closer. The warrior began looking the dog over, checking its teeth and a number of scars, some of which only looked a few days old, on the sparse hide. Amazingly enough the half-wolf showed no alarm and just stood under the intense scrutiny, even opening its mouth when its teeth were being looked at; seeming to understand the youth's intent. The previous whisper discarded, the fighter said, obviously to the stray, "I don't know why you've been following me for the last hour but you seem set in your ways and to be fairly intelligent. Let's hope that this Helm doesn't have any problems with pets."

After exiting the alley with the wolf-hound at his side, Visten Asari, the half-elven ranger-mage, headed along the street toward the described barracks for the appointed meeting. Upon discovering that he was the first there (not a surprising fact, he usually was the first up and around in the morning), he sat down beside the door with the dog at his feet and turned to face the continuing majesty of Lathander, the Morninglord. Visten soon heard the distant rattling of someone approaching in chainmail armor. For practice, he didn't look up and measured the approach using only his hearing and soon the faint scent of rose soap. The footsteps slowed as they came within about three paces to the west of Visten.

A soft voice cleared its throat before speaking, "May Selune ever guide your paths stranger, I assume you're here for today's meeting?" Visten looked up to see a woman even younger than himself standing near him. She wore well-oiled chain, carried a mithril-silver shield with Our Lady of Silver's symbol--a pair of stylized eyes encircled by seven stars--emblazoned on its face. She wore only a plain silver circlet on her head to hold her hair out of her face which still allowed her brown rivulets to stream down around her shoulders causing a clash with her white, hooded cloak. She looked harmless except for the way she carried the smooth-headed mace at her left hip. This type of mace, known as the moon's hand, was especially potent in the hands of a Selunite priest or priestess.

"Yes, Priestess," was all Visten said as he turned his attention back to the rising sun.

Seeing no conversation from the man, Sulatha Whitehood moved to sit a few paces down the wall from where he sat. The wolf-hound rose and padded over to where she sat, sniffed her hand, seemed to decide she was acceptable, and moved back to his companion's feet.

"He seems to like you, Hand of Selune, have you seen him before?" Visten asked, now interested.

Happy to have something to occupy herself, Sulatha answered, "I've seen him around the womens' barracks begging for handouts, but usually not getting any. Please don't call me Priestess or any other formal title, my name is Sulatha Whitehood."

"Does he have a name, Sulatha? He seems to have followed me after a miscasting of a find familiar by another mage last night in the bunk next to me. He's intelligent enough and also understands what I say sometimes, at least that's how it seems." Visten was immediately more interested in this cleric, "I'm Visten Asari."

"I never heard anyone call him anything, but he did always seem to understand a person's basic meaning when people spoke to him. Are you going to name him?" Sulatha said as she moved to the dog at Visten's feet and began pulling the snags out of his fur.

"I hadn't thought about that, but I can't keep calling him just 'Dog.' I think I'll name him after an old mentor of mine who taught me the joys of spellcasting after my mother's skills in that area gave out. Nyramir died while protecting my village in my youth. Well, is that alright with you, my friend?" Visten asked the wolf-hound who answered by cocking his right ear toward the barrack door. Both young adventurers looked up as the door swung open to reveal a tall, dark-haired man wearing banded mail with both a shield and a bastard sword strapped to his back. He looked them over appraisingly and then as if approving he spoke.

"I see some of you have already gotten here. I'm Helm Dwarffriend. If you'll wait until everyone gets here I'll give all the details of the trip then. I'd also like to know the extent of your training and experience along with any extra skills you have at that time."

Another figure then entered the small courtyard outside the barracks. He was a large man, clanking along in a suit of field platemail and carrying a huge, two-handed axe. The red-haired Northerner smiled and placed his great axe into a back hanger before he spoke.

"Helm! Me old friend, how has life been to ya? When Dritus told me o' yer comin' journey, I came quick as me legs could carry me, bein' at th'North Wall Inn an' all." His bearish grin and pound on the back for his friend Helm--which almost sent him tumbling face first onto the dusty roadway--were all normal in receiving a greeting from the tundra fighter, Grud Treeslayer.

After straightening himself and adjusting the shield on his back after the overzealous friendly pat, Helm introduced Grud to the younger companions. "This son of a winter wolf and a tundra yeti is Grud Treeslayer, an old friend and an experienced warrior in his own right."

"May Tempus always let ye strike true," Grud said with a solemn bow.

The growing company turned as two more members walked into the courtyard; an elf from the east and a heavily cloaked figure entered by the same northern alley as Visten. The green-robed elven female reached the group first, her staff tapping along with each step. "I'm here for the meeting. My name is Illana Meszia, mage, healer, and adventuress for hire. Which one of you is Helm?" she spoke in a nervous, business-like manner.

Helm stepped forward and bowed, "I am Helm, Priestess. Would you please wait until our final two members arrive before asking more questions."

Nyramir began sniffing the air, looked at the second approaching figure, and then emitted a low, deep-chested growl. Visten was on his feet with a shortsword in each hand before anyone else moved. Helm moved to block Visten's path to the robed woman. "It's alright, I summoned her," but at the same time Helm thought, This one is at least as quick as Dritus.

To the stranger Helm said, "Gods favor your journey, Lizardress Misitha."

"Let's make that our journey," came the answer in a warm, female voice. To the others, "I am Misitha Danarbi, who some call the Lizardress." At this, her grey-gloved hands reached up to the sides of her hood and pulled it back revealing two golden, vertically-pupiled, reptilian eyes peering from a face covered with minute, emerald scales. Visten lowered his swords and an undisguised look of interest came over his face before he nodded and sheathed his blades. Sulatha cautiously smiled at the newcomer and gave a clumsy bow herself. Illana stared closed-mouthed and unspeaking at the strange mage. "Now, as always I must tell my tale," Misitha said with a sad, bored smile.

"I've been an adventurer for two years now. In the course of these adventures, I went on hire with a group who was assigned to guard a troop of workers building a village near a branch of jungle along the Sword Coast. After several weeks of fighting off beetles the size of horses and several other monsters, we came upon a greater challenge: that of a green dragon known as Fanabelliondracomanthus or Fan. As the youngest member of the group, I was overcome early in the battle by the dragon's foul breath. Tymora's luck was with me and the cleric of the party had a scroll which held a spell of reincarnation. Thankfully, he deemed me worthy of the life-giving spell. I awoke several leagues into the jungle in this body and wandered back to the village naked and horrified at my new form. The cleric found me and explained what had happened. After a month, I learned to accept my new form and even to like it. I researched what I now was, and after a visit to a sage, I learned that I was now a member of an evil race of snake men known as the Yuan-ti. My thoughts of going to live with my race vanished at the thought of their worship of evil Gods. I have been traveling incognito and doing my job with any who will take me ever since." Her story finished she removed her gloves to reveal green scaled hands which faded into a pale, yellow-green in the palms which matched the color of her throat.

"Have you explained anything before I got here, Helm?" Dritus asked after slipping from the shadows at the edge of the barracks (where he had been watching since the before Visten arrived).

"I think you know the answer to that already, oldster. So now that we are all present, I can begin with a simple explanation of our situation. The orcs and maybe other Darkling races have been massing in the Wetlands for months, and very soon plan to lay siege to Dwarves' Den. The dwarves have sent word that they are willing to hire any adventurers and mercenaries willing to fill out their ranks so that there may still be some dwarves to work the mines and the forges. The payment is usually higher by group than by individual and I would like to leave for Dwarves' Den as soon as possible. We can learn more of each other along the way. Any questions?" Helm's eyes scanned the group and found no questions. "Alright, we will meet back here before eight bells, so if you need anything you should get it now."

Sulatha and Illana moved off toward the Womens' Barracks together and Grud moved away mumbling something about needing the little barbarian's room which caused grins and stifled laughter from the remaining companions--followed by a glare from the huge man. Visten began to arrange his pack for overland travel. The Lizardress went through several small and one large pouch behind her back.

"Looks like I'm ready to leave," Misitha said putting on her gloves and pulling her hood low over her face, "if anyone has certain spell components that I need." She gave a purposeful glance in Visten's direction.

"I have a spell that can conjure minor spell components for the caster, but they must be within a certain range and more or less naturally occurring. What do you need? I memorized the spell last night."

"I need a small piece of ivory for Snilloc's snowball," Misitha said, "and later I think we should compile spellbooks when we have a free moment."

Visten began whispering to himself and then reached out into the air and seemed to pluck something from it. At the same time, a carver in his shop a block away was carving a small statue out of ivory; he didn't notice the three small pieces of ivory disappearing from his pile of shavings. Likewise, the flowers in the small pot of fine, sandy soil didn't mind at all when a thin layer vanished from the top of pot. Visten then held out his right hand out to Misitha palm upward and Misitha picked the three small pieces of ivory out of the surrounding sand. Visten then delved into a small pouch and produced an even smaller drawstring pouch into which he put the component for a sleep spell, which he didn't know but figured someone did.

Before eight bells, the seven members of the mercenary band were again assembled in front of the barracks. Helm then assigned duties to each member and set the marching order: Dritus would range ahead to the left of their path with Visten doing the same along the right both acting as scouts, Helm took the lead, Grud took the rear, and Sulatha and Misitha more or less flanked Illana who, being the weakest, logically stayed in the center for protection. They left by the Southgate and then traveled east to cross the Rega well before noon.

By midday, they entered the giant plain, known as the Battled Flats, because of its location between the ever-battling dwarves and Darkkin from the northern Wetlands. To the south, the single granite spire, known as Lone Peak, jutted from the plain to stand alone, holding the dwarven home safe in and under itself. But when they looked over to the north, they saw great billowing gray clouds of smoke rising from the plain. Without speaking, the whole company increased their eastward pace and traveled several hours into the night. Helm and Dritus set a five part watch that night excluding only the scouts who needed rest after ranging ahead of the main party all day.

During the third watch, the company was awakened by a shout from Sulatha who luckily had been alert. Dritus was the first up--followed quickly by Visten. Both men rushed to Sulatha's aid as she battled two orcs. Dritus' blue-edged shortsword made short work of the left orc as Visten melted into the night to surprise the four orcs that could be seen as faint shadows against the star-filled sky. As Sulatha's mace crushed the skull of her attacker, Grud swung his axe horizontally taking the head off one of the new group of ogres who had advanced into the north of the camp. Helm and Illana stood together to the south of Grud's attackers, Helm fired quarrels into the midst of the three remaining ogres and the small iceball of a Snilloc's snowball burst into the chest of one ogre after leaving Illana's outstretched fingertips. A small pearl disappeared from Misitha's hand and a swarm of snowballs smashed into her group of oncoming kobolds who immediately were stopped dead from the multiple blows. In minutes, Visten had finished off the remaining orcs and turned to watch the final ogre fall under the heavy axe of Grud.

Helm waited until the company had gathered before speaking, "If there are no objections, I think we should travel on until first light and sleep most of the day, so at least the light sensitive Darklings won't bother us while we are stationary." After breaking camp, the group continued east toward Dwarves' Den for the remaining hours before dawn. At dawn, they ate a cold breakfast of trail rations and set a new watch before lying down to sleep.

Dritus awoke them at midday to eat a cold lunch and then continue east. After this short break for rest and a meal, the face of Lone Peak took up half the sky and the company adjusted their course to the south-east. By midnight, the company could see the watch fires of two of the four dwarven outposts in the distance. All the companions felt a sense of relief over the closeness of their dwarven allies, but then Visten returned from his latest patrol with a strange look in his eyes. Nyramir had his ears plastered backward onto his head and kept looking around and sniffing the air.

"Helm, I have this feeling that there's something out there following us. Please trust me, I've been known to have a way with these things." Visten looked up at Helm's face with a fierce seriousness.

"Visten, I've heard of your feelings before and the dog seems to agree with you. I'll pass the word to rest of us, if you get any more feelings or some trace of this stalker get word to me and then we'll decide what to do next." As Helm turned away, he thought, Something's definitely following us. From what Dritus says Visten is never wrong and this time he's shaken up pretty bad. I'll send word with Dritus when he comes back to report.

As Helm thought this, Visten slipped back out into the plain moving low and using his natural proximity sense as a pointer and he then moved off the west of their group. I have to find this hunter or I'll become completely paranoid, Visten thought and grimaced to himself. Nyramir's ears soon perked up and he started following some new scent in the tall grasses and headed south knowing that Visten would follow. Visten concentrated on staying low and fading into the grasses and also made certain he made no noticeable noises that might alert his stalker soon to be prey.

In about quarter of an hour, Visten knew the enemy was close and again began concentrating on his internal pointer to show him the direction. Soon, he knew his enemy was stationary and probably waiting for him somewhere. Visten knelt down and leaned close to Nyramir's head and whispered, "Flush it out for me." The wolf-hound slipped silently as a shadow into the high grasses in the direction of Visten's internal pointer. Visten moved in a circle to the left to take his prey by surprise from another angle. He heard a low growl issue from a stand of tall grasses to his right and strangely received a vision obviously from a dog's point of view of a tall, reptilian, demon-like creature whose claw was coming toward Nyramir's face...and the vision abruptly ended. Visten waded into the stand to see Nyramir leap to his left and take a shallow cut along his right flank. Visten's blades appeared in his hands and he threw himself with savage fury at the winged creature's wet-looking, ash-colored flank--knocking the seven-footer flat. As Visten rolled into a low crouch, Nyramir's jaws clamped into the creature's forearm causing a piercing screech to erupt from its throat. Visten darted in for a quick thrust at the creature's open maw which only served to cause the demon-spawn to retaliate with a sidearm cut to Visten right shoulder. That'll hurt later, Visten thought as his brought up his left sword and made a shallow cut in the creature's mid-section. The demon-kin began flailing his right arm, trying to dislodge the half-wolf--forcing Visten into his earlier crouch for safety. He then slipped in under the windmilling arm and slid his left sword--his right arm didn't seem to be cooperating--to the hilt into the overgrown bat-thing's torso. The strange creature immediately vanished into nothingness. As the apparition disappeared, a scream of pain and oncoming death was heard for miles echoing down the sides of Lone Peak as the berbalang's true form died. Visten, unhearing, collapsed into an exhausted heap, his shoulder throbbing painfully.

After having heard the first cry, Dritus was surprised at the location of the second echoing screech and paused, but kept his heading in the direction of the original. "Tymora help us!" Dritus gasped as he finally came upon Visten's pale form soon after. Dritus looked over the barely breathing young ranger's body and removed a small jar of healing ointment from a small pouch at his side and rubbed the sweet-smelling cream into Visten's torn shoulder. As this was done, the unconscious Visten moaned and the bleeding immediately was stopped, but the cuts still looked raw and needed further attention. Dritus then looked to the wolf-hound to find him curled into a ball licking his injured side. "Well, looks like you need some salve, too. Let's see that cut, Nyramir," Dritus said softly to himself as much as the dog. When Dritus leaned down with the salve, Nyramir moved his head and watched out of the corner of his eye as the ointment was applied. The cut completely sealed itself and Nyramir went over to sit next to Visten to watch over him protectively. "You can handle him without me, right? I'll leave you with him and go get Sulatha." Dritus looked at the dog who appeared to agree with him before starting out toward the campsite.

Dritus moved north-west at a fast walk reaching the campsite in about a quarter hour. "Sulatha, Visten's been hurt. We're going to need help from Selune for this one," Dritus said calmly.

"Where is he, Dritus, and did you do anything for him?" Sulatha asked, acting the proper cleric. Then she went to her blanket and picked up her small pouch in which she kept all her healing implements.

Dritus followed saying, "He's about a half-league away to the south-east, I'll lead you there myself. I used some healing ointment I have to stop the bleeding and I left his dog with him. I have to go tell Helm what happened."

Helm, standing by his shoulder, said, "I'm right here, I'll go with the two of you."

The three headed south-east to the stand where Visten had fought the berbalang's projection. Sulatha went to him and removed a crescent shaped, silver amulet from her pouch. She held the amulet to Visten's chest and whispered a prayer to her Goddess. The amulet glowed a blue-white and the light spread over Visten, reviving him and sealing the wounds on his shoulder completely. "Our Lady of Silver, we thank you," Sulatha whispered as Visten awoke and explained what had happened.

"I used my instincts and Nyramir's nose as a guide and found the monster that was tracking us. It was a creature about seven feet tall with dark-gray skin and bat-like wings on a humanoid frame. After defeating it, it vanished as if it was only an illusion and then there was that scream from the Peak. I collapsed after that, I guess that hit I took in the shoulder was worse than I thought." He then knelt down and looked at Nyramir's flank where he had been cut.

Dritus thought for a moment and said, "I've heard of such creatures, called berbalangs if I remember right. They live in a secluded cave in a trance, but they send a projection of themselves out to hunt for them. It is said that if you kill the projection, the creature itself usually dies. That must have been that second cry from the mountain."

"Tymora's luck was with you, ranger. Let's head back," Helm said while thinking, I'll have to remember Visten's prowess in battle, I think I can depend on him.

They went back to the campsite where Visten told his tale again and then fell into an exhausted sleep with Nyramir at his feet. Grud shook his head and grinned, "Tha'un's got more skill than any I've seen of th' same age."

"I'll agree there, my friend, but still watching him will do some good. He might be skilled, but he's still inexperienced," Helm said seriously and then set a new watch while the young ranger slept.

It took only three uneventful days to reach the gates of Dwarves' Den. After meeting the present rotation at the nearest dwarven outpost, the Night's Companions (Misitha's idea after Grud's complaints about traveling at night.) were escorted to Dwarves' Den by the patrol rotating out of the outpost the following day.

The gates of Runedarmorndin--meaning 'Haven under the Mountain' in dwarven--loomed before them majestically, the white marble shining orange with the setting sun on the Western side and fading into shadow to the east.

"I assume you know your way from here, Helm Dwarffriend," the patrol leader smiled before turning to leave.

"Thank you, Ranithar Axeforger," Helm said to the retreating dwarven fighter.

The company entered the heavily guarded Firstgate, which was used for defense, where Helm told the guard captain that he needed to see King Nuarim about a mercenary proposition. He was directed to the Nuarim's forge area where he was presently working. Helm led the way down the dark, smooth-walled passages, past several branchings, and to an open cavern that held several dozen small, stone forge areas. Helm led the Companions to a far corner where he knocked heavily on the stone archway to get the attention of a black-haired dwarf in normal clothing and a heavy, leather work apron. At the knocking, the dwarf, pounding on what was beginning to look like a dagger, yelled over his shoulder, "Enter, give me a minute. I'll be done in no time." Helm and the Companions waited until the dwarf dipped the red-hot dagger into a nearby bucket with a hiss and a cloud of steam. The dwarf turned around and a smile appeared on his weathered visage at the sight of Helm.

"Helm Dwarffriend, are you here for pleasure or profit? I would guess profit by the look of your friends. Greetings, Grud Treeslayer, how's that axe working out?"

The big man took the axe from its back harness and held it before the dwarf, "Heartsong is yet me pride and joy, Little King."

Nuarim gave a half-laughing scowl and turned to the younger Companions, "The barbaric ox and I have known each other since we were less experienced than yourselves, so don't mind his mouth--it's been that way for as long as I've known him. Well, Helm, I assume you're here because of the orcish threat. What are you calling yourselves so I can have the contract filled out properly?"

"We are called the Night's Companions, dwarven King," Misitha said with a low bow.

"I have heard of you, Lizardress Misitha. I am glad to finally have met the person behind the name," and to all of the Companions, "I'll set you up with the rest of the sell-swords in the Mercenaries' Quarters, Helm knows where it is." At this, Nuarim turned, pulled a whetstone from an apron pocket, and began sharpening his newly forged dagger.

Helm lead the company back through the forges and back toward the entrance to a large open corridor with rooms opening up at equal intervals along the walls. Helm went to the nearest stone door on the right where he stepped in and asked which rooms were empty. Helm took them to a room five doors down the left side, and opened the door to let everyone in. The room had seven mattressed, sleeping platforms and a large fireplace opposite the door where a giant blaze was already burning.

"We'll be put out on patrol tomorrow, so let's get some rest," Helm said choosing the platform closest to fireplace and setting out his blankets. The rest of the Companions chose their bunks and everyone except the three mages and Sulatha lay down to sleep. The mages gathered on one platform and compared and memorized spells for the morrow. Meanwhile, Sulatha was kneeling beside her bunk praying for her spells from Selune. After a few hours, even those four lay down to sleep.

The next morning, the Companions were awakened by the distant poundings of forge hammers and mining picks reverberating through the stone. They got up and began their normal morning camp chores. This morning Sulatha boiled water for herb tea while Dritus blackened wild boar--he never had gotten the hang of cooking throughout his years as an adventurer--and Visten fried some wild tubers for breakfast. Everyone ate everything--including the meat after scraping off the black crust--and soon after breakfast, a gray-bearded, platemailed dwarf knocked and swung the door open.

"Daramith Hearthstone, I'm to guide you out to the territory that you're to protect. You'll be expected to defend this area when the invasion occurs, that is unless you're forced to pull back. You're assigned to a patrol area out past the forth outpost on the north-eastern outcropping of the Single Spire. That patrol contains a wide range of territory, there's a small area of the plains to north-west, the flat of the Spire to the south, and a forested region along the edge of the flank continuing up the slope and down onto the plains. There are some craggy regions that extend deep into forest, I'll show you the major avalanche prone areas when we get out there today."

The dwarf left through a different series of tunnels, through a secret door and into a cavern that was partially water-filled. After the door, the tunnels became natural-looking. Though Visten, knowing nature's fickle ways, noticed the faint abrasions along the upper walls of the tunnels. He caught up with Daramith and walked next to him, "How long did it take your people to make these tunnels?"

The old dwarf looked surprised, but when he turned to Visten he smiled, "You must be either a druid or a ranger. They're the only ones I've ever seen who can tell the difference between this and the real thing. As you probably have guessed, this is one of our escape routes, but your small party will be using this as your entrance and the spring room as your base of operations. How did you notice the difference?"

"The roughness along the upper walls toward the ceiling, they're small, but in a real water-carved tunnel the walls are smooth all the way around and in the more recent tunnels the walls are almost glassy. I am a ranger, but I think there are others who could guess this as well as I; such as a dwarf skilled in mining." At this last comment Visten smiled in Daramith's direction and received a similar smile in return. He then stepped over to the side of the tunnel and waited until Sulatha passed slipping into his place in the line after her.

Following another ten minutes of walking, Daramith led the Company out into the early morning daylight. "This is your patrol area, the rock face off to our right is landslide prone, but we have shored that up some and it should stay if nothing happens to the shoring or moves a lot of those boulders near the bottom. There are three or four caves in this area; one above the treeline to our left and two or three down below in the forest. They vary in size from a small one that needs to be crawled into, to the largest one above the treeline that overlooks most of the patrol. There's enough room for two people to sleep inside and it's a good place to station a spotter. Well, you can explore your patrol now and set up any guards or spotters that you think are needed."

"Thank you for your time, Daramith Hearthstone, and may Clanggedin always guide your hammer," Helm bowed to the experienced dwarven warrior.

"May Helm keep you under his eye, Helm Dwarffriend," the dwarven patrolman said and then turned to the others, "Let your individual Deities be at your sides in the times ahead. And let Mielikki guide your keen eyes, Ranger Visten. Now, I have other business to attend to, farewell." At this he turned and returned the way they had come.

"Okay, let's get started; Visten and Misitha take the forest, Grud and Sulatha take the plain, Dritus and Illana set up that large cave, and I'll go back to the spring cavern and to begin camp." The Companions paired up and went to their assigned locations.

Dritus and Illana turned to the left of the water tunnel exit and headed toward the large cave that the dwarf had described there. The cave entrance was about six feet high and wide enough for two men to walk comfortably abreast. Inside the cave, the ceiling expanded up to seven or eight feet and the cave was about six feet in diameter. The entrance looked natural, but inside the cave was a perfect, smooth circle with a sleeping platform on each wall. There was even a small hearth and chimney that extended back into the wall of the cavern. "Looks like the dwarves have been busier than we thought," Dritus said with a small smile. And as usual Illana said as little as possible in return, "Yes."

Dritus, a little taken aback by a close-mouthed elf (something unthinkable), frowned and said, "We'd better start setting up." All Illana did was nod in agreement, her gray boots causing little clouds of dust to rise as she moved to the hearth and began sweeping. Dritus went back outside and began picking up deadfall to use as firewood.

Meanwhile down on the plain, "I thin' tha' some stakes hidden in the grass would be best, only a ranger like Visten would b'able t'notice 'em and I'm positive that Those Who Travel the Paths o' Darkness don't have rangers," Grud planned out loud for Sulatha's sake.

"Speaking of Visten, what do you know of the Lizardress? He seems to have taken a liking to her," the concern in Sulatha's voice was evident.

"I've known Misitha Danarbi for a long stretch now and I think she's as taken as she can be with him. Y'know she was young before her reincarnation and that slowed her, if ye git me meaning, but I try ta stay out o' others' affairs when it comes ta such matters." Grud answered with a wink and continued, "Now, let's stay with th' subject at hand. Durin' th' battle we should have our magicians and bowmen here for th' first assault an' then fall back ta th' trees."

"We'll have to talk to the others about getting some stakes set up soon--we certainly can't do it by ourselves. From what the dwarven scouts say and what we've seen the invasion should be soon, but I still don't understand what's holding the Darkkin together--they're usually so tribal that they fight among themselves as much as they fight with the goodly races." Sulatha had been wondering this for a long time and all it helped to do was irritate her and make her wonder more.

As Sulatha contemplated, Visten--followed by Misitha--had entered the forest and found the actual outpouring of the stream that started from the spring room. "Well, there actually is a stream," Visten mummered, smiling to himself.

"What did you say, noble ranger?" Misitha said and thought, He seems distant, though, I've noticed his looking at me and then turning away and I must admit that I've found myself doing the same thing. His grace is incredible and he's intelligent and witty with the others. So what's wrong with me? What am I saying? I'm a lizard! She frowned sadly to herself, wishing he could see past her exterior.

Visten turned back to his companion, thinking, What should I say? I still can't talk to her; she's just so beautiful and kind. I lose myself around her. And he said, "Nothing, Lizardress."

They then fell into an uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say, but both feeling things that were unfamiliar to them. He must think I'm ugly, a cross between a lizardman and a snake. I wonder if I would get his attention better if I was in my old human form. I do have that Alter Self spell that I use when I'm forced to blend into a crowd for a short time. After thinking this she asked, "Do you want to know what I used to look like...um...before I was changed?"

"No...uh...you're fine as you are...I mean I like you the way you are," Visten tried to look nonchalant as he turned, his face warming and walked further along the shallow stream. Hope danced at the edges of his awareness along with the doubts that he had been harboring about Misitha's feelings for him. Misitha hid her surprise and felt the touch of Lliira, Goddess of Joy, I have to say something or this'll pass.

"You're the first person I've seen who wasn't horrified by my appearance. Why is that?" Misitha knew it wasn't what she had wanted to say, but it had kept things moving.

"I'm a ranger, which in some ways means I extend friendship to animals as easily as people. I try to see what's inside a being, by learning who they are, before passing judgment." Visten kept walking down the slope and praying to Sune Firehair, Goddess of Love that he had said enough to catch her interest.

"So how do you find me?" Misitha said after pausing on the path and bracing herself for what was to come against a small tree, its solidness helping her watery knees.

Well, this is it, "I find you...well...attractive." Stumbling all over myself wasn't planned. The nervous ranger paused on the path and turned to see a happily smiling Yuan-ti reincarnation.

"I feel the same about you." The Lizardress walked toward Visten, who took her gloved hand before leading her further along the brook.

They decided later to separate to explore the forest more thoroughly and planned to reconnoiter in an hour. They found a total of three caves, only one of which was large enough to let a man walk into, but was only a tunnel that ended after about six feet. The other two a man could crawl into: one looked like it had been used as a den for a family of lynxes in the recent past, but the other opened into a cave that a man could stand or lie down in. Misitha thought that the second smaller cave could be used as a storage place for arrows and other needed items (it was close to the plain).

Misitha came to the same tree near the stream that she had leaned against for morale support earlier that morning. Without a sound, Visten moved behind her and pulled the hood backward uncovering her face. She spun quickly and embraced Visten, who returned the embrace without comment. Misitha whispered, "Thank you for being open-minded," before laying her head on his shoulder and sighing. Visten looked down at the head on his shoulder watching the play of light across the scales as if the sun were setting over the ocean and thought, Sune smiles on us this day, my lady. After standing together a few minutes, they began to walk hand in hand back to the upper forest line talking about the landscape along the way, but paying much more attention to each other. Neither noticed a certain grinning half-wolf watching from behind a nearby bush.

Helm had been setting up camp in the spring cave; he gathered wood, some stones for a firepit, he used these to build a fire, and started to cook some stew for lunch. While he was cutting up dried meat and tossing it into the boiling water, he heard a faint grinding sound from the back of the cavern. He glanced back to see a very young, beardless dwarf dressed in the leathers of a runner. He was breathing heavily and Helm had to wait until he caught his breath before he spoke, "May I see Helm of the Night's Companions, sir?"

"You've found him," Helm said as the runner walked into the smooth-walled chamber.

"I have a message for you from Scoutmaster Haragis Firehammer," the dwarf moved into a schoolboy's reciting stance and began to speak, "The Dark horde has been spotted from the Ruins of Battlekeep. It is estimated that it will reach Battlekeep before the next dawn. It is also estimated that the horde will reach our outposts in three days. It is planned that both Battlekeep and the outposts will be evacuated at least two hours before the horde reaches these points. The horde should reach the outer gate within four days. The horde numbers close to ten-thousand, about twice what was estimated. The Scoutmaster thanks the Night's Companions for their services and may Lady Luck and the Lord of Battles watch over you in the following encounter." The scout bowed, turned, and walked through the secret door, hitting the lever that operates it before running down the passage for his next duty. Helm went back to his stew where he sat troubled.

After surveying the surrounding country, the Companions returned close to noon to find Helm sitting next to a pot of hot stew which had obviously overboiled at least once because of Helm's preoccupation. Helm turned as they entered, "We have three days to prepare, four at best. The Darkkin horde has been spotted outside of Battlekeep. They number close to ten-thousand. I doubt we will be able to hold here for too long, we'll have to fall back into the mines and fight a holding battle in the tunnels. The force commanding the horde and forcing them to congeal isn't known yet, or at least I haven't been told." Helm's voice was strong, but without inflection as if he was reciting something that he had said many times before.

Work started that afternoon (after a lunch of slightly burnt stew) with everyone working on the lower plains pounding sharpened tree limbs and small saplings into the grass. The spikes were cut about three feet long and buried until only two feet showed above the ground, all were leaning outward from the face of the slope at about a 45 degree angle. They were separated by about three feet and a trip-wire was strung along the whole line about one handspan above the ground (Illana's idea surprisingly). They finished carpeting the small section of the plains and did their best to cover their presence. Darkness came on quickly soon after and they went back to the cavern to make dinner and finish setting up camp. After studying or praying for the few spells used during the day, Helm set the watch schedule with one person going out to the large cave at a time.

In the blue light before dawn, Grud looked out of the watcher's cave in the direction of Battlekeep wondering if Cyric's dark hand had reached there as predicted. As Lathander's glow brightened in the east, he saw the black cloud of the Darkkin horde's watchfires drifting in the early morning breeze. The large Northerner then followed the leeward side of the cloud where it separated into indistinct streamers, then wisps, and finally vanished altogether. If anyone besides the early morning birds had seen him, they would have seen a hardened warrior weeping silently to himself. After a few minutes, Grud wiped his eyes and went to make breakfast as the others were getting up. Only Illana noticed the redness of their largest member's blue eyes and thought: He's more than I ever expected. Obviously, she said nothing to anyone as was her way--keeping Grud her own personal secret.

That day Helm went into the dwarven city and requested three dozen arrows and two score crossbow quarrels. It was difficult to find the arrows in a city where only a handful used the longbow at all, though he did find some of the best quarrels he'd ever seen. They would put all of these into the weapons cache in the cave at the lower edge of the forest along with many daggers for general use, four shortswords, two scimitars, a bastard sword, and six hand axes. Visten and he would be the bowmen defending the slope, he would have liked more, but only the two of them knew how to use any long reaching missile weapons. The others could use hand-thrown weapons, but they couldn't be hurled more than thirty yards to have any effect. The spellcasters would cast their attack spells as soon as they could during the battle with Misitha coordinating the spellcasting. I hope Visten doesn't do anything rash if Misitha gets into trouble, Helm thought, or vice versa. Helm continued to walk down slope carrying the equipment.

"Helm, stop!" Sulatha yelled from a her position setting snares (taught to her by Misitha who surprisingly knew more about hunting than anyone else). After stopping, Helm realized what she was doing and asked:

"Where's the clear aisle?"

"It's along the streambed until you get to a stone marker then it's clear anywhere," Sulatha explained before returning to her tripwire.

"Thanks."

Helm went back up the slope the same way he had come and then went along the forest awning until he came to the brook. He walked along the bank following an animal track, until reaching a small cairn made of water-smoothed stones. Passing the cairn, he walked into the woods toward the weapons cache. Visten sat on a propped-up log next to the cave entrance checking over a beautiful, bronzewood composite longbow with a finely braided, steel string. As Helm approached Visten looked up and saw that Helm had his arrows. Standing, Visten said, "Could I see one of those arrows?"

"Sure, I wanted to look at the quarrels they supplied anyhow." Helm took the three quivers of arrows and the two of quarrels off his shoulder and handed the arrows to Visten. Visten pulled out arrows two at a time and examined the shaft for straightness, the heads for weight and sharpness, and the fletching for any folds or bends that would cause poor accuracy. After finishing his scrutiny, he found three arrows that didn't meet his standards: all of which were the smaller headed flight arrows. Next, he chose one flight and one sheaf arrow out of their respectful quivers and picked up his bow. Fitting the lighter flight arrow to his bowstring, he sighted along the shaft, pulled back, and released: sending the arrow a handspan into a fallen tree over 100 yards away. He picked up the broad-headed sheaf arrow, fitted it to his bowstring, cocked his arm back, and let the bow's tension release itself on the heavy battle arrow. The arrow flew straight into a rotten treestump about 75 yards away and buried itself up to the fletching.

"They're better than most arrows I've used, but I still have to repair the fletching on these three, if they were sheaf arrows I would leave them, but the flights have to be more accurate over greater distance. I'm glad that I won't have to use my own arrows unless I have an emergency, it takes me four hours to make just one of them." Visten sat down again and systematically ripped the flawed feathers from the three arrows.

"I've never seen a steel bowstring before or for that matter a bronzewood bow, where did you find a bow like that?" Helm asked Visten as he began refitting the arrows with some feathers he produced from a pouch at his side.

"I made it myself," Visten said with no little pride, "It took me almost three weeks to make the bow itself and the bronzewood alone cost me 500 gold, not to mention the fine-link steel bowstring (made by some light-fingered elven smiths) for another 500 gold and I had two of those made. Though, I did make up the cost plus labor when I sold a similar composite shortbow using the extra bronzewood and having another string made. These bows will use the strength of the welder to their advantage and will fire on the average ten yards further than a normal bow. The bronzewood bow and steel bowstring make it almost impossible to break or to allow anyone to cut your bowstring. I must admit that I've seen better magic bows, but this one serves my purpose and I must admit I put a lot of work into it."

Helm looked surprised at this unknown talent, "I never knew you were a bowyer, Visten. I have to say that I've seen no more than a handful of magic bows, but none of those had a metallic string. It's a good idea. Are the elves beginning to use metal strings now?"

"No, I truly think that the elves were surprised at the difficulty of the forging and I had to do a little arm-twisting to get the shortbow string made for my customer."

"My crossbow is lightly enchanted and finely made because of that, but it's only oak with a normal string. I think a wizard would pay many times more than just materials and labor if they could enchant a bow like yours. You should think of hiring yourself out. You spoke of your arrows, how are they different?"

Visten removed three arrows from the quiver attached to his oiled-leather bowcover, "I have three different types of arrowheads: steel for normal use, silver for lycanthropes and undead, and iron for creatures like jackal- and wolfweres. I've made both sheaf and flight arrows for all the types of arrowheads. It took me about one day per arrow because I made sure of a near-perfect shaft and perfect fletching for higher accuracy, but I would have had to pay more for the better arrowheads for more damage so I decided accuracy was enough." The arrows that Visten held were straighter than the best arrows that Helm had seen and the fletching wasn't only straight and placed perfectly, but were stiffer than normal fletching. After handing them to Helm, who looked over them quickly, he returned them to his quiver.

"I know you men love to talk weapons," Misitha walked over to put her hands on Visten's shoulders, "especially Visten with his bow and arrows, but that cache needs to be stocked and you seem to be doing nothing of great import. So please, Honorable Leader and My Sweet Lord, could this lowly lizard dare to ask you to put those weapons in that cave?"

"I suggest that we should do as the lady says, Visten, or we might end up trying to escape through a certain trapped forest." Helm immediately picked up a bracket of six daggers, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled into the cave with them. Visten stood and kissed Misitha before choosing the four scabbarded shortswords and followed suit. Misitha rose and returned to her snare and tripwire checking long before the rest of the daggers, the scimitars, the handaxes, the bastard sword, and the missile weapons went into the cave and were stacked along the walls.

"That's the first time I've crawled on my hands and knees for a woman," Visten said sarcastically.

"Take my word on it, it won't be your last, especially if you're very attached to her." He laughed, but when he turned to his other duties a faint wistful look flickered in his eyes before being dismissed by a shake of his head.

The next afternoon found them idle near the mouth of the entrance cave with Dritus having volunteered for the watcher's cave that afternoon. They had agreed to post a watch because of reports of other sectors being attacked by single beasts who seemingly appeared out of nowhere or flew in to attack the patrol stationed there. Usually, the beasts hadn't been anything truly terrible (like a dragon) but were formidable enough to inflict some casualties. There was a report of a night-attacking mobat, the giant bat wounded two dwarves before having one of its wings torn causing its crash and subsequent death by dwarven axes. Another monster, a displacer beast, appeared out of nowhere to attack a band of mercenaries in broad daylight. The tentacled panther was dispatched quickly by the mage on watch with a lightningbolt and a series of magic missiles (he was lucky enough to escape with the hide--tentacles included--and no wounds). The final encounter reported was of a huge skeleton (again appearing out of nowhere--Sulatha and Misitha agreed that it was probably teleported) who killed all but three of the dwarven and mercenary mixed patrol before a wounded dwarven fighter threw a dead human cleric's satchel of holy water vials and a flaming sack of vials of oil at the creature, who melted and burned to death in the throw. (The dwarf was magically healed and given the command of the reformed patrol for his ability to act under pressure.)

They had rechecked the traps during the morning, finding that one had been sprung during the night by a rabbit who had escaped before morning. After eating a small lunch, the company moved to the entrance, all of them telling themselves that the outside air and sunlight were better than the stuffiness of the cave, but in reality because they wanted to keep an eye open for teleporting monsters. Throughout the day everyone would glance in the direction of the approaching black cloud of watchfire smoke wondering what the next two days would bring.

The Night's Companions each did their own personal chore to prepare for the upcoming invasion. Visten sat next to Misitha (who, to Visten's original startlement and later resignation, had her snake-like tail wrapped around his waist) remaking the arrows he used in his earlier test firings. Misitha herself was using this time to study two scrolls, using a read magic spell, that she hadn't had time for before. Sulatha was organizing her root powders and poultices and adding some roots and fungus she had found that morning to help with her with her healing. Grud lay on his back and snored contentedly. Helm was practicing his two-handed bastard sword technique which he planned to have perfected in the coming weeks. Dritus was on watch in the watcher's cave following the movement of the black cloud which was now much closer. Illana was copying a spell that she didn't have from Misitha's spellbook so her variety would be greater. The afternoon proceeded at a leisurely pace and soon only Helm, Illana, and Dritus were still up and around the rest had taken Grud's example and fallen into a light slumber.

Their only warning was a low rumble coming from the ground beneath them before a huge mound of earth erupted outward right below Grud's sleeping form. A huge, brown-skinned, wide-bodied creature came upon the resting companions facing away from the main group in Helm's direction. Before anyone realized what was happening, Helm was hit with a claw to the upper chest and a bite to the left shoulder. Helm retaliated with an upward cut of his bastard sword which only scraped along the burrower's scaled hide causing only minimal damage. By this time Dritus, having heard the commotion, had run to the scene and was slashing with his faintly glowing shortsword and longsword. Visten finished mumbling to himself and the huge fan of a burning hands spell seared part of the creature's back. Sulatha broke from her shock and swung her moon's hand at the creature, receiving only a shock running up her arm as a reward. Grud decided to stumble into the battle at this point, but his lethargic movements and his recent fall caused him to swing without even making contact. Illana and Misitha cast their spells almost simultaneously, a small snowball smashed into the creature's mandibled maw and Misitha's magic missiles hit it in the right side after leaving her wide-spread fingers. Helm then brought down his bastard, cleaving the creature's head in two, after which it fell twitching to the ripped earth.

Sulatha grabbed her healing pouch where it had fallen and applied an herbal powder to Helm's wounds to stop the bleeding. She followed by removing her silver crescent moon from the same pouch and praying to Selune for aid. Helm's wounds then sealed quickly, but were still raw and red. Illana, who had been treating Grud's bruises from he fall (and his bruised pride) came over and cast a healing spell to quickly erase the redness completely.

After stretching his slightly stiff chest and shoulder, Helm said, "Sulatha could you tell the nearest dwarven fighter you find in the tunnels to get his commander and come out here so that we can make a report?" Sulatha hurried off into the cave and through the passage. "Do any of you know what that thing was?" he continued. After seeing a general shaking of heads and shrugs, he said, "We'll wait and see what the dwarves have to say about it."

A few minutes later, Sulatha came back followed by Daramith Hearthstone and a young dwarven warrior. "An umber hulk," Daramith shook his head slowly, "I wonder how that slipped by without us knowing, we usually can feel the approaching vibrations. Hard enemies, but slow, I see that you didn't have much trouble slaying it. How did it get here and when?"

"It dug up through tha' hole--about a quarter hour afore now--right beneath me and threw me ere I did a thin'." Grud said, quite disgusted with himself.

"It seems that it was one of those advance attacks that have been hitting the mountainside patrols since yesterday. I'll let the watch commander know," Daramith said turning, "I would rebury the body if I were you; after a while dead umber hulks let off a nasty smell." Daramith left with the other dwarf in tow.

Grud walked to the creature's body and, muscles bulging, pushed it back toward its own hole. "Ye're a weighty beast, I hav'ta say," he grunted as he shoved the body into the hole. Everyone then pushed the earth back over it and Visten and Dritus replaced the ground cover as best they could.

Misitha and Illana were conferring over to one side and motioned for Visten to join them when he had finished. Misitha started speaking when he arrived, "We should memorize only combat spells for tomorrow. The two scrolls I was reading today have some good attack and defensive spells on them, I'll use the enlarge on Grud to increase his already great strength, and the others I'll have to use when I can. We need to slow and hurt as many as we can in a short time, so choose area attack spells over single individual attack spells if you can. Visten, I know you'll mainly be using your bow, save your spells until they're needed--Illana and I can handle that department for a little while without you. Illana, you and I have to take separate positions along the front to cover the most area, but the spells cast are up to you. I don't know much about clerical magic, but if possible more attack spells would be nice."

Helm called the group over, "I was going to wait until the morning to start the barrier, but I think we better get it done before dark--Dritus says the cloud is moving faster than before." At this, the seven friends moved down the stream trail to the edge of the forest, where they gathered deadwood and some trees Grud cut to make a barrier about three feet high extending from the landslide prone right flank to the rocky hill at the left where luckily there was a rock-face that was nearly impossible to climb. As evening settled, the last logs were added to the barrier and they returned to the entrance cave to make dinner. (Misitha took dinner out to Visten--feeding some of it to Nyramir--who started watch as evening fell.) The mages memorized their combat spells and then Sulatha and Illana spoke about their clerical spells, deciding on cure light wounds and any combat spells their individual deities would allow. After a few hours, the watch cycle continued and the others slept. The spotters saw the cloud blotting out stars ever closer and close to dawn Helm watched as the watchtowers were set aflame allowing him to see the undulating sea of Darkling bodies moving toward them. They're moving faster than we'd hoped, Helm worried, They should be here by tomorrow afternoon at the latest--more likely by late morning, but I'll wait until first light to pass judgment.

At dawn, Helm knew that his estimate had been correct. He returned to the cave where he woke the others and told them the news. They all went down to the barricade soon after breakfast, choosing their positions and waiting for the advance scouts to approach. Visten went to the storage cave and got his arrows, Helm's quarrels, and some daggers for Dritus to throw.

"Leave the orcs and orogs, if any, to me, I have a special place in my heart for them," Visten announced with a sad smile of remembrance and hatred. "Nyramir," Visten faced the now well-fed wolf-hound, "stay near Illana, she'll need you more than I will." The wolf-hound turned and went over to Illana's side to lie down, understanding perfectly.

The waiting was the worst. Fidgeting was everywhere: Helm changed the position of his bolt quivers more times than he cared to remember and Misitha checked where Grud was and where her enlarge scroll was at least a half-dozen times. The wave of Darkkin moved closer as the morning progressed. They ate an early, cold lunch in case they didn't have a chance later. Just before noon, the Night's Companions ducked down behind the log barrier to be out of the Dark horde's vision until they were close enough to attack. "May Selune, Light in Darkness, be with us all," Sulatha whispered to herself.

Visten was the first to rise and look at the advancing horde. It was rank upon rank of Darklings, if any fell they were soon trampled to death by their comrades. There didn't seem to be any distinction between the races, they were only an unorganized mob bent on the death of the dwarves. Visten waited with a strange calm as the front ranks of the horde grew close enough, then he lifted his nearly indestructible bow and fitted an arrow to the gleaming string. Before releasing, he heard Misitha reading from her scroll and saw Grud almost double in height out of the corner of his eye. When he released, his arrowhead sparkled slightly before burying itself two handspans into the chest of one of the lead orcs, if the arrow itself didn't kill him, the heavily booted feet of his comrades did. Helm stood about ten yards down the barricade from Visten, and for every quarrel he fired at the oncoming kobolds and goblins, Visten dropped another orc or larger and brighter orog. As the horde reached the trapped area of the plains, stakes, tripwires, and fallen bodies slowed their advance and some scattered Darkkin arrows began to fly before a large orog began pushing them forward again, stopping the bow-fire.

"Visten, th'large orog's fer me," the extra-huge Grud bellowed over the horde's screams and battle cries. Soon, the orog leader had led a small contingent of ogres, bugbears, and his own fellows past the trapped region and up to the barrier itself. Visten's arrows ripped into the ranks of the advancing orogs except for the orog Grud had chosen. Grud stepped over the barricade and in two steps was before the leading orog who quickly attacked with his flaming sword, hitting the giant Grud squarely. Grud looked surprised and stumbled backward from the strength of the blow until he noticed the girdle the orog chief was wearing; Giant Strength. Grud swung a two-handed downward cut quickly reversing it into an upward swing, causing the orog to stagger back bleeding heavily. Grud continued his advance and planted his axe into the head of the chieftain. After pausing to hurl the orog's broken body over the barricade to save its magic, Grud waded into the remaining ogres and bugbears swinging from left to right. Helm paused just long enough to take the flaming bastard sword for himself and tossing the girdle to Visten, before continuing to fire. Visten donned the girdle and began firing, his bow using his enhanced strength to hurl arrows with enough force to pick up and throw the largest ogres.

Meanwhile, after casting the enlarge on Grud, Misitha began casting spells of her own. As a band of kobolds entered the trapped area they were suddenly enveloped by a swarm of snowballs felling all of them. Magic missiles flew from her fingers into the advancing hobgoblins, as several of the Darkling fell into a deep slumber caused by Illana's hand to be trampled to death by the following ranks. Sulatha caused the armor of two bugbears to grow searingly hot, broiling them alive. As Grud threw the orog's body, Misitha read from a different scroll, this time a confusion spell making a section of advancing Darklings begin to wander about or attack one another.

Soon after Helm ran out of quarrels, he picked up his new bastard sword and fought his way to Grud's side. Dritus had given up throwing daggers long before, and was now keeping several goblins and hyena-faced gnolls from Sulatha and Misitha's position. Before the barrier further down, Nyramir was tearing the throats and bellies from the advancing kobolds attacking there to protect Illana.

After another ten minutes of continuous fighting, the Darkkin who could fell back and made room for the advance of group of ten verbeeg and troll shock troops. The smallest of the giants, the verbeeg let the stronger, regenerating trolls take the lead. The verbeeg and trolls attacked Grud and Helm forcing them back over the barrier before one of Illana's snowball swarms slowed their ranks. Misitha quickly read a slow spell from her scroll, making most of the shock troops move at a snail's pace. Illana then realized their chance and yelled, "Fire! Burn the plain!" Visten quickly followed her suggestion by casting two burning hands spells: one into the field and one onto the barrier itself. The fire spread quickly over the dry timber of the barrier and out into the plain. Helm ordered them all back to the cave entrance before it spread into the forest ahead of them. They turned and raced up the brook path to the cave entrance, Illana casting the clerical produce flame spell and hurling it over her shoulder to explode on an unburned part of the plain behind her.

Upon reaching the cave, there was a pause as the horde navigated the burning plain and barrier; the companions used this time to heal their wounds. Soon screams were being heard from the forest below caused by the tripwires and snares placed there. It was a few minutes before the lead Dark Ones approached from out of the forest--and stopped short. A path of falling trees was the first sign of the approach of the monster, that and a deep-throated cheering from the remaining members of the horde.

The hydra first showed its twelve heads just east of the streambed and advanced on the companions. Arrows began flying in a more organized fashion from the Darklings at the forest edge, forcing the seven mercenaries into the cave. The giant, twelve-headed lizard walked to the cave entrance and thrust its heads inside, where Helm and Grud were found side by side in the cramped quarters to be the first line of defense. They soon retreated, not being able to fight off twelve heads at once with their slow, heavy weapons. The next line was Dritus, now wearing the girdle of giant strength, and Visten, these two surprisingly held their own (and removed three heads) due to their speed until Visten was unable to parry a combination attack and was knocked into the wall--sustaining two bites. Dritus was forced to fall back while Helm dragged Visten to the relative safety of their camp. That was enough for Misitha, who threw six daggers over the retreating Dritus' shoulders, tossed her scrolls to Illana, and pulled her scimitars to help Dritus, Grud, and Helm at the spring room's entrance. Even with four of them defending the larger cave's entrance, the nine remaining heads outmatched them causing them to lose a few feet every minute.

"Everyone into the passage!" Illana yelled and began reading from Misitha's scroll. The four cave defenders turned and ran for the corridor, just making it into the darker tunnels before the brilliant flash of a huge lightningbolt lanced into the small cave crushing the hydra and the ceiling in the same instant. Illana was pulled into the tunnel by Grud's strong arms an instant before being crushed by several large boulders. After a shocked pause where Illana and Grud stood holding each other and Sulatha administered to Visten and the newly wounded Dritus, Helm said, "They won't be coming in through our patrol area. Let's go report and see if we can get something to eat."

At this, the Night's Companions turned down the darkened passage and headed toward the main dwarven city-complex.

After an hour-long report and a quick meal at the mess near the Mercenaries' Quarters, the excitement of the day wore away to nothing and exhaustion caught them with its all-encompassing hand. Helm arranged a room near the mess with the quartermaster and the friends collapsed onto their separate platforms without even taking off their weapons. During the night a slim, dark shape pushed the door open with a faint scrape (as if anything could have been heard over Grud's snoring) and scanned the sleeping forms, its green eyes pausing briefly on Helm, then faded into the darkness of the corridor, closing the door quietly behind it.

Morning came as the young, dwarven torch-bearers went about the tunnels and passages relighting or replacing extinguished torches--the Morninglords of the deep. It wasn't until the room-keeping staff entered to replenish the firewood and restoke the fire that the heroes finally awakened.

"What time is it? I feel like I only just lay down," Dritus mumbled discontentedly at the sight of the light streaming into the room.

"It's just past mid-morning, sir. The mercenary bathes are still warm if you would like one," a dwarf-girl supplied politely.

"I think that's a good idea, thank you," Dritus got up as the others began to stir, "I'm off to the bathes, anyone else coming?" The rest of the men dragged their aching bodies out of bed, and followed him out--Visten pausing to wake Misitha with a kiss. The three women and the dog sat staring at their departing backs. "What ever happened to manners?" Sulatha scowled. Then to one of the departing maids, "Are there any other nearby bathes that we could use?"

The kind, bearded maid answered with a devious glance, "No, but we can have three tubs brought in here and a guard stationed at the door to keep the menfolk away."

"That would be lovely, thank you," Sulatha said with a smile, "and make it two guards if possible--Grud can be a little pushy." The maid left with a shallow bow and a smile and hurried to organize the in-room bathes. A few minutes later, six dwarf-maids carried three large washbasins full of steaming water into the room and set them on the floor next to the hearth. Next, each produced a bar of scented soap from her gown and took the towels from their shoulders.

"There are three female guards stationed outside the door to delay any onlookers friendly or not," the helpful dwarf-maid said after handing her soap to Misitha without as much as a second glance for her scaled appearance. "The infirmary has asked if any clerics from your company could come down and help with any healing?"

"I'd be glad to come," Sulatha said. And Illana only nodded her agreement with a smile before beginning to undress. The dwarf-maidens left the room and the three women undressed and slipped into the hot water each with their own individual sigh. They washed themselves with the flower scented soap, none of them recognizing the smell of the crushed flowers used. Illana (being very loose-tongued in the relaxed atmosphere) finally decided that it was a subterranean breed of rose. About half-way through the bath, they heard a commotion outside with Grud's voice the only one penetrating the thick, stone door, "Can't come in me own room? What d'ya mean by tha'?" The yelling disappeared and one of the guards slipped into the room to explain.

"We sent them to breakfast, if that's alright with you, my ladies?"

"That's fine," Illana mumbled from her restful bathing, then smiling to herself she said, "Grud needs his food before becoming civil." The other two looked at her almost-sleeping form, then at each other before deciding to ignore her previous statement.

After toweling off, the three women put on their spare clothes: Sulatha in clean, clerical vestments edged with silver, Illana wearing a finely woven, green silk robe similar to her traveling robe but obviously for special occasions, and Misitha put on a blue, cotton, hooded robe and her gray gloves. They then washed their dirty clothes in one of the washbasins and Sulatha slipped out the door to tell the guards that they were finished and going to breakfast.

Breakfast was served in the mess two doors down, where the three women went over to sit with their friends after picking up their meals. The men also were wearing their non-combat attire: Helm, Visten, and Dritus in normal trousers and tunics, but Grud in his native, still-furred, leather garments. The men were finishing breakfast (except for Grud who was on his fourth helping and still going strong) but decided to stay to keep the ladies company. After breakfast (Grud was the last to finish), Sulatha announced her intention of helping out in the infirmary with Illana, and asked Helm if he could have the kinks taken out of her chainmail during the day. Helm said he would--having planned to do that for everyones' armor anyhow. They got up from the table; the clerics asking a dwarven cook where the infirmary was and the rest returning to their room.

The infirmary contained just less than three score of wounded, mostly mercenaries. Sulatha asked who the worst cases were and went to attend them while Illana took out her herb pouch and Sulatha's borrowed one to see if they had any herbs or powders that the dwarves needed. Illana then proceeded to cast her healing spells on the less life-threatening cases until they had run out on her. Illana and Sulatha decided to take a shift in the infirmary to help the already tired dwarves and herbal healers working there. They sent a messenger to tell Helm that they would be back before eleven bells.

The messenger hurried down the now-bright tunnels to find Helm out of the room carrying a load of armor to the forges with Grud's help. The messenger told Dritus the message and departed quickly. Dritus then went back to sharpening his new, non-magical daggers. Visten was sitting across the room next to Misitha working slowly on one broad-headed sheaf arrow, still having close to three hours of work on this single arrow and wanting to do two more after this to replenish those used at the barricade. Misitha was next to him, her tail wrapped about him comfortably, sharpening her dulled scimitars and six daggers the dwarves had supplied. An hour passed before Grud, followed by Helm, returned with their first load of repaired armor and left for the second one after hearing the message from the clerics.

By the time Helm and Grud returned with their second load, Visten had finished his sheaf arrow and starting his second. The clerics had just sat down to rest after being on their feet for two hours taking care of the wounded. The wounded defenders were now coming in as a continuous stream as the battle progressed through late morning. Helm and Grud laid out the armor for the rest of the group, and then waited for lunch with the rest of them. Visten worked until twelve bells had sounded, then he stopped and everyone left together for their midday meal.

On their way to the mess, Dritus noticed that all the dwarves he saw were wearing battle armor and carrying weapons. "Has something come up that we haven't been informed of, Helm?" he asked at the mess door.

"Not that I've heard, but a runner at the forges told me that we have an audience with King Nuarim at two bells this afternoon. That's where I plan to learn what the new problem is."

"I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that we'll stay to defend the dwarves now, Helm Dwarffriend," Sulatha said seriously, getting nods from the rest of the company.

"Thank you, I'm sure Nuarim will be glad to hear that," Helm stated showing less pride than he actually felt. I think he'll be more than just glad, Helm worried, I think he has something special planned for us. Then they went in to eat a delicious roast boar for lunch, only the ever-watchful Nyramir noticed the slim, dark-cloaked figure eating quietly in one shadowed corner while watching them out of the corner of one green eye. Nyramir didn't bother alerting Visten about the dark watcher knowing that Visten would know of any danger before he would anyhow.

They returned to their room after the large lunch and rested or worked on anything that needed doing. Visten finished his second arrow while the mages and clerics memorized and prayed for their spells. When two bells sounded, the echoing ring found them outside the King's Audience Chamber, still without armor, waiting to be announced.

The wait hadn't been long when Patrol Leader Daramith Hearthstone opened the chamber's large portal to let in the seven mercenary-adventurers, saying, "King Nuarim will see you now." Upon entering, the companions found the room strangely empty of people and dark; Scoutmaster Haragis Firehammer, Patrol Leader Daramith Hearthstone, and King Nuarim Mithrilforge were the only dwarves present. All were in full battle dress; both Daramith and Nuarim wearing platemail and Haragis wearing the leathers of the scouts and runners under his command. Their weapons were equally impressive; Daramith's warhammer and Haragis' broadsword both glowed brightly in the dark chamber while Nuarim's battleaxe shone as if a star had been captured in its fine-honed, mithril arc.

Nuarim started without any prelude, "I have heard from Patrol Leader Daramith that you held your slope for almost the full afternoon before being forced to retreat and even after this you blocked the passage into our halls. This is much better than the other mercenary companies. Most of them were forced to retreat much earlier and more than one gave up their escape tunnels to the Ones in Shadow. I had to send dwarves and excess mercenaries there to repel them. This comparison alone puts us in the debt of the Night's Companions and I've found them deserving of great reward. As we gave to the other mercenary companies, we give you a choice. You may stay here and fight with us or you may escape through one of our still-hidden tunnels to the outside. If you stay here you will have a hard battle ahead of you, but if we survive the day your payment will be increased. What is your choice, company of the Night's Companions?"

Helm stepped forward and bowed before speaking, "I, as the leader of the Night's Companions, will pass on the decision of the company. We have decided to stay and defend our dwarven friends for as long as is possible."

The three dwarves were visibly relieved by this (Haragis even released a slight sigh of withheld breath). The King of Clan Mithrilforge smiled warmly, "Well, now that the formalities are over with, we can get down to the real business at hand. The three of us were depending on you to stay and help us. We know that we can't hold out against the horde for more than a few more days without being forced back into our halls, fighting in small groups with very few of us escaping at all. The key is the force holding the horde together as a whole: if that can be destroyed the horde will soon disband because of tribal and racial clashes. We would like to send you to find and destroy this central controller. Will you?"

After receiving nods from his company, Helm agreed, "Friend Nuarim, we'll do it, but I need the full details before going."

Nuarim nodded to Haragis who began to speak, "From my scout reports, every enemy group has stopped at Battlekeep before continuing on here and thus, we believe whoever is guiding the horde is working from there. From Daramith's recommendation, we decided that you would be good for this encounter--anyone who can destroy an umber hulk and the next day a twelve-headed hydra after fighting several hundred Dark Ones at least has a chance with this.

"The problem is the only way into the ruins is through long-unused tunnels dating from the time before Battlekeep was first taken over four centuries ago. Not many know the way through these tunnels, but we have found an ancient engineers' map and a guide who traveled the tunnels once, whom we will introduce later," this was said with a quick look at Nuarim before continuing. "The tunnels have been locked and closed from this end since the guide came to us and it is known from various reports that the tunnels are occupied by many types of monsters. The tunnels connect with the lowest level of the dungeons of the keep itself, which have been inhabited by monsters since the last days before the keep's first overtaking and then sealed off along with our connecting tunnels."

Nuarim continued as Haragis left off, "We will supply you with any material requirements that you need; including healing potions and the best mithril weapons for those without magical weapons already." After a small pause, followed by a glance to both of the other dwarves, who nodded, the dwarven king continued, "Now the guide; Miera, would you please step forward."

Helm, Dritus, and Grud looked stunned, while the others looked confused as a black-cloaked, green-eyed figure stepped from the shadows of one corner and uncovered her raven-black hair and elven features. She stepped forward until she was about three paces away and then stopped to speak, "To those of you who don't know me, I'm called Miera Verte," her feline voice carrying well in the silent chamber. Helm walked to her with tears in his eyes and embraced her, followed quickly by both Dritus and Grud, who was also crying silently.

"We thought you dead, my love. How did you survive? Why haven't you contacted me?" Helm's pleas were truly heartfelt, drawing embarrassed looks from the dwarves, knowing looks from Dritus and Grud, and surprise from the rest of the companions.

"My lycanthrope abilities saved me with the help of my fickle, new Goddess, Selune, Lady of Silver. I see that you have one of her chosen with you--we must talk later, sister. And to your second question, it took me a long time to finally find my way to the dwarven end of the caves and then make my peace with Selune. Also, you are not the easiest person to find and I still stick to the shadows when I can. But I knew that you would be here when your dwarven friends were threatened, so I came as soon as I could as a mercenary." Grud and Dritus had moved back now to allow the embracers more room. Miera's strangely reflecting, cat-like eyes were crying now too and she hugged Helm closer.

"When would you like us to leave, Little King?" Grud asked with his version of politeness.

"I'd like you to leave tomorrow at dawn. You may return to your room now. I'll send a dwarf to write down your equipment needs in a few hours." Nuarim smiled stiffly as they left and then whispered sadly to his two friends, "They have the best chance, I hope that they make it--for all our sakes."

Back in the barracks room, Helm sat with Miera on his sleeping platform and told his part in Miera's story. "It began about three years ago, just before the Time of Troubles. I was with an adventuring group led by a human ranger known as Steffen Longstrider, both Grud and Dritus were in this group also. We decided to do a little adventuring in the dungeons and catacombs of Battlekeep, but the four of us didn't think we could make it on our own, so we asked around and found a beautiful thief," a smile to Miera, "and a competent cleric of Tymora, known as Keller Dymsworth. Not much happened in the first few weeks, and the adventure went very well; we had few foes and a lot of gold. That's when I found this first bastard sword.

"Then the Godswar occurred, a huge storm raged outside the keep, so we moved to a hidden sanctuary we had secured in the dungeons below. Strange things began to happen then; Tymora didn't grant any but the weakest spells to Keller--though he prayed almost continuously, strange energy storms raged across the land at times changing people and things in their wake, and there were the rumors of the Avatars of the Gods themselves walking Faerun. That was when our trouble started; the creatures in the dungeons below started coming more frequently for some reason and with Keller's limited abilities we were all but magic-less. The magic items we had didn't always function correctly--sometimes to our favor greatly and sometimes against us with equal intensity.

"Then the magical storm came. Miera was caught in it and returned as a werepanther--she is what is called a true lycanthrope, being natural and not infected--and we stayed with her through her troubled times at the beginning and I began to love her dearly. Soon after, we were attacked in mass by Darkkin forces and had to retreat down into the dungeons. After only a few hours, we were lost and attacked at every step of the way. We lost Steffen along the way to a miscasting of a simple spell by an orcish witch-doctor and were forced to continue without an experienced dungeoner.

"Then the time came when we were trapped in a narrow passage with hundreds of kobolds to either side of us. We thought ourselves lost until Dritus found a hidden passage along one wall, the only problem was it had to be closed from the outside. Miera volunteered to do it, knowing that she would be fairly safe in her less-vulnerable half-humanoid/half-panther form. We went through the passage, thanks to Grud who had to carry me himself or I would have stayed with Miera. The passage closed behind us as Miera pushed it shut and the last thing I heard was a panther's roar.

"For the next few days, I wandered in a daze and fought like a madman in battle. After some uncalculated amount of time, due to the darkness and the state of being lost, the Dark Ones again were more few and far between, and Keller began receiving his more powerful spells much to his own great relief. We found our way out after what must have been about a week or two. I waited for Miera to come out for two weeks after we reached the surface--if she was alive she could have followed our signs of passage--at least that's what I thought until now. Grud had to manhandle me the first five leagues even then before I would walk on my own. I gave up hope after a year without word." He then turned to Miera, "What happened after you were shut in the passage?"

Miera wiped her eyes and continued the story from her point of view, "I closed the secret door and then changed into my full panther form to guard it. I fought the kobolds until a huge burrowing worm came and destroyed the kobolds and most of the passage--including the secret door. I only had one way left to go; that was downward. I went that way and became more animal than anything else; I stayed in my panther form as much as possible and only switched to my hybrid form when there was a lock that needed picking or a steep wall to climb; I never used my elven form.

"As with you, I never knew how long it took, but I was going down until I found several passages leading what turned out to be south. In the state that I was in I only followed them because there was the scent of fresh meat in the these tunnels and none in the tunnels I had come from. The fresh meat turned out to be several freshly slain orcs that were being eaten be a few ghouls. I killed the ghouls, but when I went to the bodies to devour them, I changed. A silvery light surrounded me, and a beautiful woman, who called herself a shard, appeared and spoke to me, saying, 'You are not only an animal, panther-girl, you are many things--an elf among them. Don't lose your other selves and follow the re-arisen Lady of Silver.' I didn't realize what was happening until I found myself unclothed and shivering in my elven form on the cave floor. That's when I began to think again, not just feel and act on instinct. I had no other way to go, so I kept following the passage I was in. Eventually, I found myself in a tunnel that hadn't been occupied in many years. Soon, this led to a heavily locked door, which took me many hours to pick. That's how I entered the dwarven halls of Clan Mithrilforge.

"I wandered these deserted passages for what seemed forever, until I came upon one of the forge areas and was spotted by the smiths there. At first, I was afraid and ran, but they searched me out and I came with them peacefully, babbling in the common tongue. I was taken to King Nuarim who outfitted me and heard my story, well, as much as I could remember at the time, which consisted of my name and this tale from the visiting of the shard onward. I went out soon knowing that I was searching for something or someone, but not knowing who or what. Then, the first night fell and a perfect crescent moon rose into the night sky and I fell to my knees before the glory of Selune. Every night of this first journey outside, I prayed to Selune and begged for forgiveness from her for ignoring her gift for so long. I was out doing this many months and I slowly regained my past and full identity.

"That's when I went searching for you, Helm. I went everywhere, but you always seemed to be one city ahead of me or you had just left the inn a week ago. I needed money, so I began hiring on as a thief again with various adventurers. I kept my other abilities secret, but still used them as Selune wanted and as I needed them. After a year, you disappeared and I almost gave up searching completely. Then, I heard of the rumored Dark horde invasion of Dwarves' Den, and feeling I had a debt to pay the dwarves and hoping you would be there, I came and hired on, but was put on duty before I could look for you. After the first assault, the dwarves and mercenaries of my patrol had to retreat and then I was asked to lead a group back to Battlekeep. When I learned it was a group under a man named Helm, I had to see if it was you, and I've spied on you for the last two days until I was positive. It was Grud who gave it away--he never seems to change. I barely could control myself, but the dwarves said that it should wait until today, so here I am after three years." When their stories had ended there was a moment of silence and then Helm and Miera held each other tightly as if each finally believed the other was truly there.

A faint knock sounded on the door, and a middle-aged dwarf walked in carrying a few sheets of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. "I'm here to scribe your equipment needs. We can start by having everyone who doesn't have magic weapons say so and I'll write down the needed mithril items." He then went about the room going from person to person and taking down the needed weapons. When he finished, he recited the list, "Alright, this should be the complete list: six daggers for the thief, two shortswords and four dozen arrowheads for the ranger, two scimitars and six daggers for the Lizardress, a special, smooth-headed mace for the Priestess, and two dozen light crossbow quarrels for Helm. Could I have your mace so that we can duplicate it, Priestess?" Sulatha passed the moon's hand over to the dwarf and sat back down. "The rest of the list was compiled earlier by King Nuarim and several others. I'll pass it on to you now: five potions of healing, three jars of healing unguent, one magic item that cannot be used by dwarves still to be chosen, one scroll usable by mages only, and enough regular field rations and water to last one ride. I'll return before supper with the weapons and items of healing, but we'll need your help to choose the magic item after the meal." At this, he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

"There are still two hours before dinner. I suggest we discuss what we are doing tomorrow," Dritus said looking to the others for agreement. After receiving nods all around, he continued, "I don't remember much of Battlekeep's dungeons, other than the upper-most level and we never went below the second level down--except when we were lost. Helm, Grud and I can compile our memories, but I doubt it will lead us anywhere further. Miera, you might know more than us, and you have the engineers' chart, could you continue?"

Miera reached into a small pouch at her side and pulled out a recopied piece of parchment. She unrolled it and began speaking, "This is the tunnel complex in its original draft--thus it's incomplete due to changes after this draft. The dwarves have marked the tunnels that would most likely have been kept in place without modification, including the one I entered by over two years ago. We'll exit by the same door and hopefully find our way to the dungeons of Battlekeep in about twelve hours without any major problems. The real problems will begin when we actually get to the dungeons themselves--none of us know how to get up to the upper levels. I hope none of you have offended Tymora recently because at this point we'll need all the luck we can get. No dwarven scout could get within five leagues of the keep itself, so we don't even know if the controlling force behind the horde is there, much less if we will be able to defeat it. Any questions or suggestions?"

Illana spoke, "Tonight I can enchant some small stones with continual light spells for permanent light sources."

"How many can you enchant in one evening?" Helm asked.

"No more than four or maybe five, can anyone else cast a continual light?"

Misitha said, "None us can cast it now, but if Visten and I learn it we can cast as many as are needed this evening."

"Alright, we'll need at least eight, but I would prefer ten in case we have problems," Helm decided. The three mages then got together to share Illana's continual light spell, while Sulatha chose stones to be enchanted. By the time the mages began memorizing their spell, the dwarven scribe returned carrying several sheathed weapons, a satchel of potions and unguents, another large sack with iron rations, and eight empty waterskins.

"In exchange for these new weapons we would like your old ones to use as scrape," the dwarf said without even a greeting. He then commenced to move around the room handing out the exceptional mithril blades while checking his list to be sure of the people receiving them. Afterwards, he again made rounds, this time collecting the older, normal quality steel weapons. "You can divide the rations, items of healing, and waterskins yourselves. King Nuarim will meet you in his Audience Chamber after you have eaten and take you to the treasury." He left the remaining sacks and waterskins on the floor near the doorway, hoisted the weapons, and clunked out.

The new mithril weapons reflected the firelight as well as any silver ever smithed, and held an edge longer than the finest blue steel. These in particular were of extremely fine dwarven make: the blades were perfectly balanced with the edges hone to a razor's sharpness and the moon's hand held an oak haft with a mithril head which was close to impossible to dent. Each one of the companions who had received a new weapon tried its balance and strength after the dwarf had left. Soon, the air was alive with the flashing reflections of silver streaming along the walls and ceiling. After many ooo's and ahhh's, the weapons were stowed and the food and waterskins divided. The potions and healing ointments were found to be in steel flasks to prevent breakage. The three jars of ointment were given to the principle warriors in the group: Helm, Grud, and Visten, while the others took one healing flask each.

At six bells, Grud led the now eight-membered group to the mess, where he ate more than any of the others ever could singly in one day, much less one meal. After finally dragging the living pit away from his meal, Helm led them to the King's Audience Chamber, where they found the armored Nuarim sitting outside on a small wooden stool, fingering an unadorned, mithril key. He stood at their approach, "We don't have many items that we can't use because we trade or sell them, but I hope we can find something for you." He led them down the passage to a strong-door made of mithril-bound bronzewood with a small lock. He slid the key into the lock and twisted it with a faint click. The door swung open at the touch of his hand to reveal a well-organized chamber with felt-covered tables along the three walls which didn't contain the door. The items lying on the black felt were what caught the eye: a star sapphire the size of a man's head, a fair-sized collection of black sapphires (among them a fist-sized black, star sapphire) many other gems of more hues than could be imagined, a large, golden crown from the horde of some long-dead king, an adamantite staff topped with a glowing sapphire, and one table containing several wands, scrolls, and other items usually attributed to mages.

Nuarim led them to this last table where he stopped and said, "Many of these items we don't even know how to use or what their abilities are. The wands in the front row are known to us: a wand of magic detection, a wand of size alteration, a wand of wonder, and a wand of fire. We need the wand of magic detection and won't let anyone have the wand of wonder, but the others are yours to choose from. We've already chosen the scroll for you, it contains some of the most powerful spells--according to a well-paid apprentice mageling. Which wand would you like?"

Misitha stepped forward, this being her specialty, "The wand of fire will due more than nicely, Dwarven King." The broad-shouldered king picked up the wand and a scroll from the third row and passed them into the Lizardresses' hands. She perused the scroll quickly before placing it into one of her pouches for a true reading, using read magic later on. The wand she handed to Illana, who looked at the command words inscribed on the end near the butt, closed her eyes a moment to commit them to memory, and put the wand away.

The dwarf glanced sadly from side to side as he led them out, his gaze lingering on the riches lying on the tables, I hope that the next few days won't find orcs in this chamber and eight friends dead in ancient tunnels. After waiting until all the companions had left, he exited and locked the Treasury behind them. He turned around after placing the key on the gold chain around his neck and letting it slip down into the mithril collar of his platemail, and regarded the semicircle of friends, old and new, waiting for him. "Are you still planning on leaving at six bells tomorrow morn?" after seeing confirming nods, he continued, "Well, I can't say that's especially good, but I'm glad that you still are planning to try and help us. May Tymora pave your path with her blessings, Night's Companions." At this he turned, and left them to find their own way back to their room.

Nyramir perked up from his resting place by the fire and wagged his tail as the companions entered. This was quickly lowered and a more concerned expression surfaced when he sensed the tension from Visten and the same less distinctly from the rest of his companions. After getting none but the most passing glance from Visten, he lay back down to sleep again and prepared in his own way for the journey he knew was ahead. Visten looked at the almost sleeping dog strangely, swearing he heard a clearly disgusted "Well" before Nyramir had returned to sleep. Shaking his head, Visten went over to the platform where Illana and Misitha were memorizing continual light and joined them.

After a few hours, ten glowing stones were placed into a pouch for safe-keeping and the companions extinguished the torches along the walls before readying themselves for bed. Without comment from anyone (except for a smile of remembrance between Dritus and Grud) Helm lifted Miera and carried her to his platform to get "re-acquainted" while they still could in the semi-privacy of a warm bed. Visten and Misitha tried to ignore covert, meaningful looks cast in their direction, but they were too much and after a stammered good-night followed by a quick kiss, both went to bed, extremely embarrassed. (Both would have blushed, but Misitha's scaled flesh didn't allow for it--Visten turned red enough for both of them anyhow.)

Only Nyramir had enough courage to take the initiative for the abashed couple. As the others were finally asleep (minus Helm and Miera) Visten felt a tug at the bottom of his blanket and awakened to see Nyramir staring up at him. The sleepy ranger whispered, "What do you want?" A voice brushed aside the haziness of sleep and echoed in his mind--not his ears, "Master, go to Misitha." At this Nyramir went back to the warm hearth, curled into a ball, and slept. Visten's first thought was astonishment, then he thought, Maybe that find familiar spell was more potent than I first thought. That half-wolf gives good advice though. He got up and slipped silently to Misitha's platform. As he was nerving himself to crawl in with her, he heard her whisper, "I'm glad you came, my first love." At that Visten moved to her side and understood for the first time how powerful love could be.

The bell tolled five times, echoing down through the dwarven city to the Mercenaries' Barracks where Dritus awoke as he had planned the previous night. The first thing he noticed was the lack of an occupant on Visten's platform, not surprised, he got up silently and softly walked over to wake Visten. After shaking the half-elf awake, he whispered, "Embarrassing situations aren't good for a scout's reputation, my young friend. Get up and help me light the torches." Visten smiled at the thief's kindness and quickly dressed. His gaze lingered on Misitha's sleeping form before lighting the torches on the opposite side of the room from Dritus.

All were up and dressed soon after the two scouts finished. Packing began afterward; each packing his or her own pouches and packs, then taking a share of the communal supplies. A full company of dwarf-maids came to the door carrying breakfast and water for the trip. The water was put into the provided waterskins. Breakfast was eaten in silence, with each centered on his or her own thoughts (except for Nyramir who went from person to person begging for as much sausage as possible). The maidens cleared the dishes away just after Haragis and Daramith entered the room to lead them to the exit tunnel.

"Good morning, Helm Dwarffriend and company," the aged scoutmaster said to break the silence, "I hope you have prepared light sources for your journey to the old tunnels--the torch brackets aren't filled regularly anymore. Gather your things and follow us."

The passages he led them through took them across the city proper to unfamiliar corridors and concourses winding among old mining shafts and unused chambers. After almost a half-hour of walking, the tunnels became dark and the companions took out their lightstones. The tunnels grew thick with cobwebs and dust that showed no trace of passage in recent years until reaching the passage that Miera had first followed and even these tracks had over a half inch of dust covering them. The door came into the edge of the first sphere of light and the company slowed to a stop.

The door was black onyx bound in steel, over six feet high, four feet wide, and over a handspan thick. A single, glowing topaz a full inch across was inset in the center of the door, Daramith removed a twin golden stone from his pouch and brought them together causing them to glow brightly. The glow diminished and a sharp click resounded through the passage as the bolt retracted. Daramith pushed the door gently and it swung open with ease, revealing a smooth-hewn, darkened tunnel extending beyond into blackness. "We changed the locks on the doors after Miera came through to these magical versions. They will allow entry to those of clear conscious from the outside, but only those with a keystone may exit from within. This is where we part company. Let the Gods guide your steps and bring you back to us safely." He bowed to each in turn and waited as Haragis did the same before speaking quietly, "We will shut and lock the portal after you."

The door made a resounding ring as it closed tightly behind them cutting them off from everything but the eternal night of the underworld, where only the evil nightbringers of Shar, Mistress of the Night, were truly comfortable. They turned from the door and looked into the black maw of the tunnels. Here, they knew, anything could lie in wait beyond their meager circle of light. Helm began quickly so as to leave the silence undisturbed, "Let's hope the name, the Night's Companions, will help us where the darkness never ends and the stars never shine. I still can't understand how dwarves' live their lives in these conditions. Let's get on with it. Spread out and only every other person carry an uncovered light." He waited for Miera to come up from where she had been reviewing the map to let her lead. He carried his unsheathed, flaming bastard sword to light the passage instead of a lightstone. Grud and Illana followed about two paces behind with the slim elf carrying the glowing stone. Sulatha walked next to Misitha, the lightstone reflecting off the reptilian eyes of its bearer. Dritus, Visten, and Nyramir took up the rear-guard position with the thief using his glowing longsword as their light source. The darkness and oppressive silence forced talking to be subdued to a low whisper and then only when necessary due to the faint, revealing echoes it caused.

Helm put his flametongue to good use, burning cobwebs and their clinging dust from their path. The webs flared quickly before disappearing completely under the touch of his blade. Miera led onward tirelessly only stopping after several hours of travel. The stopping point was an alcove created by the dwarven stonemasons for just that purpose; it contained a wide, open space with a bench along one wall and a ceiling which extended beyond the reach of their lights.

Due to the unlit, high-arched ceiling, none of the companions noticed the dark, chitinous-shelled creatures until four thin strands of adhesive filament shot down out of the murkiness above. Dritus, Miera, Illana, and Misitha where caught in the almost-invisible ropes and immediately were lifted off the bench where they had been sitting. Dritus immediately pulled his enchanted shortsword with his only free hand and cut the cable, falling to the floor a few feet below. Only Miera reacted with similar speed, using the time to change into her hybrid panther-human form as she twisted her wrists in a way to bring two glowing daggers snapping into the palms of her hands from the hidden spring sheaths on her forearms. She swung into a better position and launched the two heavily enchanted daggers of throwing along the line toward its source. One dagger went wide and was heard to hit stone on the far upper wall of the chamber, but the other scraped faintly as it passed between two shell plates and her assent stopped abruptly. Misitha, with only her left arm free, cut at the line holding her--the non-magical blade bounced along the adhesive strand doing no damage at all. Illana, hanging by her booted feet, struggled ineffectively against the upward pull.

Visten, knowing that they were effectively blind while assaulting the creatures along the shadowed ceiling, cast a continual light spell into the air high up in the alcove. Sulatha's produce flame spell flared to life in her palm and she sent it flying toward the cave fisher that was drawing in Illana's wiggling form. The small ball of fire exploded into a small sphere an armspan across burning the creature badly and slowing Illana's assent. Helm dropped his flaming sword, cocked and loaded his crossbow, and fired it at the cave fisher above the wildly slashing Lizardress. The well-aimed bolt sank deeply into the lobster-like hide of the fisher causing three of its legs to go limp on one side. Grud had reacted slowly, but still managed to unlimber his handaxe and send it whirling uselessly into a collection of webbing on the far side of the chamber.

By this time Dritus had pulled himself to his feet and was unsuccessfully trying to pull his arm free from where he had been struck by the filament against his side. The werepanther was swaying slowing in an ever-increasing arc toward Illana's inverted form. She had been able to get her enchanted shortsword free from its scabbard, but was wondering if the fall of thirty feet was worth cutting Illana free if she got there. Visten unlimbered his bow and fired two steel-tipped, sheaf arrows at the cave fisher above Misitha's slashing body. One arrow missed by a handsbreath, but the other sank deeply into the creature's eye causing a convulsion throughout its body and stopping his lover's climb. Sulatha raced to help Dritus remove his stuck arm, knowing she couldn't help against the creatures above them. Another mithril quarrel left Helm's magical crossbow to pin Illana's creature to the webbing behind it and dimming its compound eyes forever. Grud, his girdle of giant strength in place, hefted his great axe one-handed and hurled it with all of his magically enhanced strength at the remaining fisher. The axe whirled crescent-blade over haft and then sliced through the creature's body and into the stone behind. Nyramir soon stopped his useless darting about after this.

The blood of the slain cave fishers dissolved the adhesive along the cords letting the three women fall, Illana caught by Grud, Misitha by Visten and Helm, and Miera landing on her feet like the panther she was akin to. Dritus used some of the alcoholic blood to release his arm and began searching the piles of fallen webbing for any valuables. After a short search he came up with several skeletons of bats--both normal and giant, three bodies of small Darkkin (probably kobolds or small orcs) and the body of a single druegar dwarf. He extracted a total of five silver pieces from the Darkkin bodies, and five gold and three gemstones from the gray dwarf's body. The stones were nothing to scoff at: a cut gem of the smoky, star rose quartz, a small piece of durable, brown rusteen, and a polished sphere of olive-green peridot.

After retrieving their lost weapons, the Night's Companions (who were all wondering if their name had been the right idea) decided to rest for the midday meal. Even Grud complained at the tastelessness of the iron rations the dwarves had provided. After the cold meal, they checked the engineers' map and continued along the same passage. Only Visten felt the presence of a watcher, but unable to locate its source decided to ignore it--thinking it due to nervousness or possibly his recent encounter. Because of this, none noticed the faintly shimmering form of the aerial servant watching from a shadowed corner of the passage behind them. As the company progressed, the nearly invisible servant flew through the darkness behind them until coming to a branching where it took the lesser side corridor and continued on alone.

The aerial servant hovered before an imposing figure in black, red-shimmering field platemail. "Ah, my scout has returned. You have seen someone?" the servant's head nodded, "In the passages from the dwarven fortress?" another nod, "You are dismissed." The aerial servant's gleeful spin carried it in a tight assenting spiral, vanishing before it reached the ceiling to return to its own plane. Stupid creatures, but useful, Arik, priest of Cyric (known as The Dark Sun) thought before turning to a lizard-like underling. He switched to the language of the troglodyte before speaking. "Rasstin, step forward!"

A steel-adorned troglodyte seemed to appear out of the rock wall itself and stepped forward. "I await, Darklord," chameleon-skinned chieftain rasped.

"I would like you to gather a war party in the passage from the dwarven fortress. There is a group of humanoids there, you and yours may have any steel they carry and their bodies. Go arrange this." Arik's deep baritone echoed away to nothingness after completely filling the large cavern.

"Think it done, Darklord," the raspy voice said with the troglodyte equivalent of glee.

Now I must tell that dark-witch Delim of the intruders, Arik scowled to himself, if she wasn't the only intelligent company down here I would have done away with her months ago. Then I must inform the Highlord of this threat, the high priest shivered at this final thought.

The companions traveled on for the rest of the "afternoon," such as it was. Miera hoped to rest and eat at a large cavern, listed as a supply area on the map, which was ahead about one league. Everyone was tired and edgy after their close call at the alcove, and were looking forward to the break.

According to the map, the cavern grew closer, and about fifty paces from the entrance Nyramir began growling. A horrible, unmistakably reptilian stench filled the cavern, and the company covered their noses, but the scent still made Miera, Visten, Misitha, and Helm feel faint and weaker. Huge, steel darts flew from the outstretched hands of troglodytes, who had used their chameleon-like skin to conceal themselves along the walls. Everyone was hit by a javelin, except for Illana and Helm whose magical armor and enchanted bracers protected them respectfully. Miera was also hit, but her enhanced healing in her hybrid form sealed the small wounds instantly.

Dritus began his combat run down the left side of the passage, swinging his weapons at anything that moved along the walls. Grud reacted quickly and sent two of the smelly lizard heads' flying before any could react to stop him. Visten's mithril shortswords cut shallow troughs across the throats of two troglodytes and skidded along the scaled chest of a third as Dritus impaled another on his longsword. Illana pulled out her wand and spoke a quiet command and a pea-sized ball of fire flew from its tip into the mouth of the cavern, bursting into a huge fireball. Misitha had pulled out her old scroll and read a spell causing a cloud of stinking vapor to expand ahead of her in the passage. The stinking cloud spell didn't seem to have any effect on the already strong smelling reptiles. Miera and Helm, standing side by side, fought an advancing front against an oncoming wave of clawing and biting troglodytes; her glowing shortsword and dagger moving almost twice as fast as his flametongue, but for each of her weak thrusts a lizard fell to his blade. Nyramir stood by Sulatha's side using his powerful jaws to support the arcing swing of her mace.

Soon over half of the troglodytes had fallen to the Night's Companions, who had only sustained minor wounds. Rasstin, the troglodyte chieftain, led a final charge against the now solid line the company had formed. The huge reptile, leading his six loyal guards and several well-trained subchieftains, crashed into the center of the line. Grud lashed out at two of Rasstin's minions at once cleaving one in two and seriously wounding another. Dritus spun into the lesser guards, killing one with two lightning thrusts and wounding another before being forced to defend himself. Visten and the now spell-less Misitha worked in tandem against another flank of the guards felling one each with their flashing mithril blades before being forced to slow. Helm threw himself at the subchieftains beside Grud, cutting one to ribbons in the process. Miera transformed to her full panther form to confront Rasstin himself, ripping wide trails down his chest with her claws. Illana fired her final memorized spell--the small ball of frozen water crashed into the already hurt subchief at Grud's flank, knocking him backward into those that followed. Nyramir, still guarding Sulatha, ripped the throat from a guard as the Selunite smashed her mace into another's shoulder.

The still-capable lizards pressed quickly, trying to regain their previous advantage. The chieftain swung his heavy mace at the crouching panther; hitting her, but only knocking her sideways--the wound closing as it was made. The remaining two subchieftains attacked Helm and Grud, their weapons only scraping along the warriors' armor. The futile blows of the guards were parried by the faster blades of the defenders.

After regaining her balance, Miera launched herself at Rasstin, knocking him down and raking her claws along his abdomen until he was still. Grud killed the remaining subchieftains before Helm could react, cutting the first in two from head to toe and sinking the axe into the other's chest. Meanwhile, Dritus was pulling the glowing blade of his longsword from the wound in his dead troglodyte's chest. Visten and Misitha whirled toward one of the final unwounded guards cutting it several times in an instant--it was dead before it hit the stone pavement. Sulatha and Nyramir let the last wounded guard flee with its kin out of the tunnel and through the cavern.

The companions entered the cavern with their guard still up--only to find that it was empty. Here, they rested, memorized and prayed for spells, and used some of their ointment to heal their wounds before eating another hard-to-stomach meal.

The last surviving troglodyte subchieftain (now chieftain) walked meekly into the presence of his Darklord. The Darklord heard his servant's entry and spoke with his back still turned, his baritone echoing eerily from the depths of his helm, "Your report."

"We attacked as was planned, but were defeated, Darklord. Our tribe had to abandon our traditional grounds for fear of the invaders," the cringing lizardman rasped.

"How many intruders?" his voice was calm, but his anger was boiling within.

In an almost inaudible voice, the troglodyte hissed, "Eight, Dark One, . . . Eight and a wolf-like dog."

The carefully crafted barrier burst inside Arik. The red-burning light of his longsword flashed from its sheath as Arik's silver-shackled hand removed it. The whimpering troglodyte was only beginning to turn and run as the blade severed his head, the blood boiling away to a fine, magenta steam where it touched the searing blade. The Burning Hand of Cyric then spoke, his voice again calm, his anger having boiled away with the lizard's lifeblood, "Your people failed me, I'll not allow that to happen again." Then, the face within the helm turned pale as a cold, emotionless voice pounded within his skull, saying: "You have failed to stop them, Arik, Lord Cyric would not be pleased. Next time carry out his orders yourself, not through weakling cave-dwellers."

"Yes, Flare of the Dark Sun," was all Arik could stammer before the presence left him alone in the room. Shaking, Arik picked up the blade from where it had fallen from his nerveless fingers and resheathed it. After composing himself, he walked from the room to summon his minions, preparing for battle.

He didn't notice the figure in the alcove behind him who had watched the proceedings with merriment. Nightbringer Delim smiled to herself before following the figure through the exit arch, Looks like our 'Darklord' isn't looked upon with the full favor of his God. May Shar bring eternal darkness upon him through me.

The companions' march began with a new state of observation and caution. The tunnel branched both to the right and the left at the far edge of the chamber. This fork was not listed on the engineers' chart that Miera carried, so Helm decided that Miera and Dritus would scout out both branches for the first hundred paces and then return to report any similarities to the known mapping.

Dritus moved off into the right branch with only a non-glowing, magical dagger readied and returned long before Miera. "The right branch leads to a natural passage and chamber complex that must have been home to that troglodyte hunting party--if the dirtiness and humanoid remains show anything. I suggest we take a detour and search that place for anything of value. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes at most."

"We can do that as soon as Miera returns," Helm said pointedly to the eager thief and with a stern look to the rest of the company. As Helm finished, Miera walked back into the cavern.

"This passage looks like all the others that we've been in, so I can't guess if it's the correct one," she said looking worried.

Dritus spoke quickly, "The other obviously isn't our path, but the treasure of the under-lizard clan is lying around to be taken, and we've decided to make an unscheduled stop to collect it." Miera, a thief to the core, was the first into the chamber out-racing even Dritus.

The cavern complex that they entered was large, stunk of troglodyte musk, and had many side passages and alcoves. The floor was covered with bits of bone, shards of skulls, and useless pieces of clothing and leather goods. There was no treasure here or even any useful weapons and armor, but as they explored they came upon a side cave containing an archaic smelter and several empty, clay molds for forming troglodyte javelins. The droplets of steel along the floor told where the armor and weapons had gone, but there was no sign of other metals being molded here.

Dritus thought that the under-lizards had taken everything of value with them, until Sulatha yelled for everyone to come from a large crack along one wall. When Dritus got there, he saw the lithe Selunite squeezing into the crack without difficulty. Soon, copper pieces and small gemstones began coming out by the handful. It turned out that treasure to the troglodytes was the steel of the armor and weapons and the gems and coppers were put here so that they wouldn't get in the way. After dividing up the treasure in equal amounts, the companions returned to the previous chamber and took the left branch to continue their journey.

King Nuarim stood above the great gates of his kingdom upon the battlements, looking out over the sea of Darkling invaders. Day was just being covered by night's heavy cloak, and the dwarven watchfires were being ignited on the corners of the battlements. The time for us is growing short, the dwarven king thought with worry, we've already moved any too weak to stay and fight to the far tunnels. May any Gods who are listening allow the Night's Companions to succeed in their mission. He stood until the golden disk of the sun passed beneath the Western horizon, hoping to see an unconquered Runedarmorndin at this time tomorrow.

A clattering sounded further down the smooth-cut passage ahead of the companions, setting them on edge instantly. Visten felt a tingling at the base of his skull. "I smell the death that lives," Visten heard from Nyramir. He looked at the half-wolf still surprised by his telepathic prodding.

"Helm, Nyramir and I agree that something's not right up ahead. My familiar just told me that he smells 'the death that lives.' And I feel like we're being observed somehow," the ranger said in a guarded whisper.

"Ready your weapons everyone, I think we'll be meeting some undead," Helm ordered quietly as he fitted his arm into the heavy leather straps of his shield.

The rattling was now accompanied by the shuffling steps of someone hurt (or already dead). The company moved forward cautiously, forming a tight circle around the two primary mages and the Selunite, who was readying her shield to use as a holy symbol in turning undead. Visten cast a continual light he had memorized on an arrow and fired it ahead. The glowing arrow flew in a low arc along the ceiling of the passage, revealing a small army of undead advancing toward them. The arrow buried itself into the chest of a decaying ghoul, and caused one undead who was obviously sensitive to light to race for the shadows.

"Watch th' wight tha' just ran inta th' shadows, it can suck th' life from a man," Grud said while gesturing with his axe. Suddenly, a shadow came into the edge of the light and latched itself onto Grud's right shoulder, seeming happy to receive a scream from his victim. Grud twisted his axe into a two-handed swing, cutting the shadow's insubstantial form in two--forcing it to evaporate and find eternal rest.

The skeletons were now close enough to see through their ribs to the ranks behind them and Illana held up Azuth's holy symbol, which glowed a steel-gray light as she spoke, "Begone animations in the name of Azuth the High One, find your final rest." The light streamed out and spread making several skeletons stop in their tracks and move toward the wall--unable to move nearer. Sulatha held her shield high before her, and spoke clearly, "By the glory of Selune, may your unlife be broken!" Again several skeletons stopped and moved away from the blue-white glowing shield to join their turned comrades. In total, almost two score of skeletons had been turned by the two priestesses, still leaving more than that number to advance onward.

The companions then began more common forms of attack. Dritus and Miera moved side by side into the first ranks of clattering skeletons, cutting right and left and mainly doing very little damage because their blades would slip between the ribs or only lightly scrape along a bone. Visten, having repacked his bow, cut into the ranks of skeletons with his shortswords, downing two before having to parry attacks from many more rusting swords and spears. Illana moved next, pulling her wand from her pouch--only to have it cut in two by an advancing zombie. She stumbled backward and cast the first spell that came to mind, causing the zombie and some of its companions to be buffeted by many small snowballs. Misitha finished casting her new fireball spell (that she had finally been able to understand after long months of study) into the rear ranks of zombies and the front ranks of ghouls. Sulatha swung her mace beside Nyramir, it doing better damage than the bladed weapons of the others. Nyramir cracked hips of skeletal attackers next to her and got about equal success. Helm's flametongue seemed to be made to destroy undead, burning as he cut.

The skeletons and zombies kept coming, with both Visten and Illana being wounded before having a chance to retaliate. Dritus spotted something out of the corner of his eye along the wall and yelled at the werepanther beside him, "Miera, I see the wight. Guard my back." He moved into her lee as she attacked and threw all the mithril-silver daggers in his possession, with the first four he destroyed the energy draining creature and the last two felled an advancing ghoul. Visten, favoring the wound on his abdomen, was able to finally cut down one skeleton and wound another. Illana summoned the power granted by her deity and threw a small ball of fire into the nearby zombies, burning one badly. The Lizardress spread her fingers into a wide arc, releasing a small swarm of snowballs into the oncoming zombies. A score of pummeled undead collapsed and found eternal rest in the slush created. Nyramir's jaws ripped the arm from one skeleton, as the silver arc of Sulatha's moon's hand shattered the skull of another. Helm swept into the ranks of the remaining zombies and cut into their rotting flesh like a wedge; his blade's blazing death sending two into the great beyond. Grud, now recovered from the shadow's touch, fell in beside Helm, cutting down the last two zombies with one strike and smashing a ghoul with another.

As soon as Misitha had finished reading the scroll from the dwarven treasury, hundreds of rats swarmed into the undead ahead of her; literally biting the skeletons and ghouls to pieces (including those that had been turned) but she lost her concentration due to the surprising spell effect and the rats mainly disbursed with only a few remaining to chew on the carrion remains.

"That will be enough!" a resounding baritone sounded from the shadows ahead. A man in red-glowing field plate seemed to materialize from the shadows of an alcove burnishing a red-hot longsword. Following on either side of this figure and slightly behind, two large gray-skinned zombies stood, but unlike normal zombies these two showed a cruel spark of intelligence in their pale, yellow eyes. The priest began casting and eleven zombies arose from the dead again from his multiple animate dead spells. Chanting was heard from behind, and the companions turned to see a darkly dressed priestess raising another nine zombies behind them.

"Come, favored of Selune, Curse of Darkness, and feel Shar's nightbringer," the dark-robed figure spoke in a musical voice after casting her spells. A globe of magical darkness then appeared around the woman and began moving in Sulatha's direction. Three stinking ghasts slipped into the globe with her as an honor guard.

Miera leaped to Sulatha's right side opposite Nyramir on her left as the orb of darkness enveloped her. The darkness completely obliterated normal sight and infravision (the heat seeing sight used by many creatures which Selune granted her priestesses) but the stench of the ghasts led Nyramir to them unerringly. The strong wolf-hound leaped toward one of the stumbling shapes, latching his jaws into its decaying shoulder. Miera, who had been trained in the skill of blind-fighting (using hearing and other senses to make up for eyesight) swiftly struck out at another ghast, cutting off one arm with her shortsword and sheathing her dagger in the undead creature's chest. Sulatha was the worst off, she only could trust in her Goddess to help her against Shar's minion. She swung her moon's hand wildly, hitting nothing except empty air.

A trill of rich laughter filled the air as Delim saw the "horrible" attack upon her. Her Goddess granted all of the nightbringers the ability to fight exceptionally under the warm blanket of darkness. A thin smile creased her pale face as her black morning star swung downward, smashing into Sulatha's chainmailed shoulder. The unharmed ghast moved toward where he thought his one-armed companion was and swung at the shadowy figure before him, missing with both of his clawed hands and with his ever-hungry bite. The one-armed ghast swung at Miera's small form, missing completely. The final ghast spent his time ripping the dog from his shoulder and dashing him on the floor.

Miera again attacked her single-armed foe, her dagger skidded along the creature's tough hide, but her shortsword cut a deep trough along his stomach destroying it instantly. Nyramir got himself up and lunged at the ghast--who batted him away with its outstretched arms. Sulatha swung her mithril-headed mace at the invisible Delim, deflecting its head off the nightbringer's enchanted shield.

As the first three companions moved into the world of darkness, Visten, Illana, and Misitha advanced on the score of zombies. All three casting as they approached: a Snilloc's snowball swarm from Misitha, a Snilloc's snowball from Illana, and a last minute burning hands from Visten. The majority of the zombies collapsed in the cloud of iceballs and two more fell to the fan-spread of the burning hands; leaving only two standing. The two zombies moved to attack Visten; the first missing, but the second one hitting hard enough to dash him against a nearby wall.

Both Misitha and Illana cast spells at the remaining zombies to help the hurt Visten. The bright streaks of three magic missiles flashed into one and another iceball slammed into the other; both spells destroying the two undead.

On their way toward the menacing priest of Cyric, a faint shimmering figure appeared out of the shadows and struck at Dritus; clenching its hands about the thief's throat. Dritus was able to twist in the aerial servant's grasp and attack with his shortsword and longsword; hitting him three times and doing massive damage. "I can handle this--get going!" the thief grunted at Helm and Grud as they turned to see what was happening. Dritus attacked again; hitting only once with his longsword. The aerial servant began to throttle the smaller man with its hands, causing Dritus' eyes to widen in pain. Dritus attacked with greater fury (but weakening strength) at the almost insubstantial form; wounding it again. The sparkling hands grew tighter around the thief's neck; forcing Dritus to stumble backward, but still attacking again. The hands still clenched, but the grasp was weakening, this still forced Dritus to his knees. A burning darkness was approaching from the edges of Dritus' mind and knowing if the servant didn't release his grip he would lose consciousness and die, he lashed out with his swords one final time. The aerial servant faded into a faint mist, then disappeared completely, leaving the unconscious, but still living thief, collapsed in a heap where he fell.

Helm advanced on the two ju-ju zombies guarding Arik and swung quickly at the nearest as Grud advanced on the High Priest himself. As Grud moved to within fighting distance of Arik, he was suddenly overcome with the feeling that goodness was foreign to this place and that he should not be here. The Searing Hand of Cyric laughed at the confused barbarian and attacked with his super-heated blade, burning through a section of the barbarian's platemail. Grud staggered back and retaliated with his axe. The blow that Arik received was incredible; forcing him to stumble backward several paces. Now, Arik waited patiently as the barbarian moved in for his second strike, and as the huge man closed the High Priest brought his shield up to smash into Grud's broad chest. Sensing Grud's goodness, the evil shield released a blue-white flash of electricity; shocking Grud in addition to the force of the blow.

Helm was in among the two ju-ju zombies--the two huge zombies flailing wildly at him with their outstretched arms. Helm was able to dodge clear of the first zombie's attack and the second's bounced off his armored side. On the offensive again, Helm lashed out with his flaming bastard; a forehand cut deep into the closest one's midsection and a following stab into the second's thigh.

Grud recovered quickly from the small electrical shock, and attacked again; missing badly. Arik, now firmly upon the ground, launched another attack; again burning the big barbarian. Grud swung again to no effect and received a charged shield-bash to complete his humiliation. Meanwhile, Helm had cut down the first zombie, but was hit heavily from behind by the other as Grud regained his balance. Another blow came down from the searing longsword, as Grud twisted to face the Priest, only to be rebounded by Grud's platemail. Arik stood under the enhanced barbarian's swing and could only touch his shield to Grud's plate; shocking him, but with no force behind it. Grud missed his second swing because of the protection from good field around the Priest's armor.

Helm concentrated on the backstabbing zombie, sinking his blade into its rotting chest, but receiving a blow in return. Helm twisted his blade--enlarging the wound and destroying the zombie. Arik was the first to recover from the previous blows and attack. Grud grunted under the pain of the blow and swung only to be stopped by the enchanted plate of his enemy. The shield-bash and the second axe attack occurred simultaneously with both men receiving blows. Arik, hurt badly, then turned to run--escaping Grud's wrath, but not that of his Highlord.

A booming voice came from the air of the chamber itself, "You have failed, Arik. Lord Cyric is not amused. You will return what was given to you." Then the searing sword in Arik's clenched fist pulled free, floated into the air, and vanished in a burst of black flame. The High Priest's fleeing form then screamed as the armor his was wearing melted to liquid around him, killing him. None in the chamber saw Arik's tormented spirit ripped from his body by a large, claw-like hand and carried away.

In her orb of blackness, Delim only heard Arik's scream, but knew who caused his demise. Knowing she was no match for the remaining heroes she fled, taking her sphere with her. The two ghasts, now in the open, were crushed before the combined force of the companions before even having a chance to flee.

The companions used all of their knowledge of herbal healing, Sulatha's crescent of healing, all of the dwarven potions of healing, and emptied their jars of unguent, all for healing themselves. Still Dritus, Visten, Helm, and Grud were not completely healed. Next, the spells of healing were cast by Illana and Sulatha. Not even these were enough to heal anyone completely, but all were now in fighting condition if needed.

Helm spoke when they were finished, "I would have liked to reach the entrance to the lower dungeons before resting for the night, but I think the priestesses need to regain their spells and finish with our healing before continuing."

As the clerics began praying (along with Visten and Misitha's memorizing) Dritus and Miera searched the surrounding area for traps, remaining undead, and treasure. Only the treasure did they find in abundance. Several large chests were found full of coins and gems. One smaller strongbox contained six potions, one of which proved to be a potion of extra-healing. Another coffin-like chest held a suit of blue-glowing chainmail and a now-rusted longsword. A large, ornate, silver jewelry box was found to conceal a pair of bracers, a pair of supple leather gloves, and ten arrows with silvery-glowing tips. In a chest among platinum coins, a small, bejeweled platinum box was found containing a single dagger which glowed a brilliant amber.

The magic items were tested and distributed among the members. The chainmail going to Sulatha, the bracers of archery, gauntlets of dexterity, and magic arrows going to Visten, the potions of speed and invisibility going to Dritus, the potions of super-heroism and invulnerability going to Helm, the potion of extra-healing going to Grud, the oil of agelessness going to Miera, and the amber-glowing dagger to Misitha. Illana made due with every gem she could find.

The Night's Companions unpacked their trail blankets and set up camp. The bodies of the undead and of the High Priest were put in a nearby chamber, blessed, and burned. The watch was set in eight shifts of one hour each. Sleep came quickly to all and the night went uneventful.

The siege was not going well for the dwarves of Runedarmorndin. The Darkkin horde had launched several attacks during the previous night. All were unsuccessful, but the dwarves had been beaten badly and now when Lathander's radiance was beginning show in the east, it illuminated the skeleton crew that remained to guard the battlements. King Nuarim stood among these remaining fighters along with Scoutmaster Haragis and Patrol Leader Daramith, who acted as his personal guard. Nuarim knew the fray would breach Firstgate soon and they would be fighting in the cavern before Secondgate.

Nuarim looked about the battlements in sadness, their white marble stained a deep red from the blood of Darklings and dwarves alike. Only twenty dwarves were left at their positions after the assaults of the previous night. One more day, Nuarim thought, but the battlements will probably fall after dark tonight.

Visten sighed as his wounds were finally healed by Illana's spells. He was the last one to be healed that morning. The others were breaking camp and preparing to reach the dungeons. "According to the map the lowest dungeon level should be only a few hours journey ahead," Miera informed the others after repacking everything.

"Let's make haste," Grud said, "ere th' Dark Uns take th' dwarves."

Thus began their march, everything went fine and they reached the lower levels only pursued by their own echoes and an occasional rat. The entrance to the lowest level was a rough-made wooden door bound with rope and was open. The door was only one hundred paces behind them when the first vision came. A sudden chill enveloped them, and a voice whispered inside their minds, "Weaklings, why do you even think to destroy the emissary of the Dark Sun? I, the Highlord, will crush you like the vermin you are." It was only a whisper, but it gave the listener a great feeling of dread.

"Let us be, solar of Cyric! You will fall as did your High Priest!" Sulatha screamed at the vanishing presence.

They walked for two hours through the empty, crumbling corridors before finding the stairs to the next higher level. All the way, Visten felt a presence watching them, following their every move as they progressed upward. He became nervous and irritable until Misitha moved to walk next to him and her attention calmed him. The entire dungeon was vacant with all the Dark Ones attacking Dwarves' Den, so their journey was easy and the only thing they had to do was find their way upward.

The levels began to fly by after they found a main staircase that continued upward level after level. Another four levels passed away beneath their feet and Helm, Grud, and Dritus began recognizing the area. "We're near the keep itself," Dritus said, "This is the level that we had an outpost in." Grud and Helm nodded agreement and the three led onward. The now-familiar passages were navigated with little trouble by the two fighters until a large, unknown cavern was found.

"I don't remember this being here," Helm said to Grud as Dritus approached from his position as rear-guard.

Their conference lasted only a few short minutes as the flapping of large, bat wings sounded from the cavern. Soon, hundreds of pairs of wings were flying their owners onto the ledge at the edge of the cavern where the adventurers stood. The werebats attacked in a mob--forcing the companions back into the tunnel from where they had come. Misitha quickly passed the dwarven scroll to Illana and cast a fireball herself while the elf read from the scroll. Misitha's fireball exploded into a huge orb of burning death at the center of the werebat swarm, destroying many and causing others to crash to their deaths. A cone almost thirty yards long and just short of twenty feet diameter shot from the scroll Illana was holding and swept the chamber, destroying more of the evil creatures than even the fireball. The remaining werebats and their giant bat servants retreated to the far side of the chamber.

"A spellcaster! Come forward, whelp, and feel my wrath!" a huge werebat yelled from the far end of the cavern. Soon, he was chanting quietly, and a trio of magic missiles smashed into Misitha's body, forcing a screech from her serpentine throat.

A small piece of ivory disappeared from Illana's hand as she whispered an incantation. The snowball flew straight at the spellcasting werebat king, bursting into small fragments as it hit his chest. Visten made motions as if he were drawing a bow as his screamed the words to his spell. A liquidy arrow formed in the imaginary bow and launched at the winged rat, splashing into his midsection--the acid burning into him.

Misitha looked at Visten and Illana saying, "Thank you, but this is my fight." As she ran to the edge of the ledge prepared to jump down to the cavern floor, Visten ran next to her and jumped with her, speaking one syllable as they leaped out over the cavern. They floated toward the floor as if each was as light as a piece of down because of Visten's feather fall spell. Upon reaching the floor, Visten drew his matched shortswords.

"Good luck, my love," the ranger cried as he cut into the first of seven remaining werebats.

The Lizardress cast a magic missile spell at the werebat noble and the three shining streaks jumped from her outstretched fingers to the overgrown bat's body. Unable to concentrate on his spellcasting and the acid from Visten's Melf's acid arrow spell still burning, the werebat king advanced with his shortsword. Swinging from left to right, cutting into Misitha's right arm at the elbow. With her good arm, she drew one of her scimitars and with her weakened right arm she drew her glowing dagger. As she attacked, the werebat leaped back dodging her attacks.

Visten, engaging two werebats at once, was glad to see the missiles coming from along the ledge to support him; Dritus' daggers, another snowball from Illana, a handaxe from Grud, a bolt from Helm's crossbow, a small ball of fire from Sulatha, and Miera's magical throwing daggers. Four shapechangers shifted into their human form upon their deaths because of these new attacks. Visten attacked again, killing his first opponent and wounding another.

Misitha struck again with only her dagger slipping past his well-trained defenses. The werebat lashed out with his shortsword, but strike was wide. Misitha's scimitar finally made her mark, and ended the creature's life. After pulling her curved blade from the now-human chest, she slumped to the floor exhausted.

Another quarrel flew from the upper ledge, followed by another ball of fire and two magical daggers, destroying the remaining werebats and a large bat. The rest of the over-sized bats escaped after having seen their masters fall.

Visten rushed to Misitha's side and helped her walk to where the others were making their way down the cavern face along a rope. Sulatha was the first healer to reach bottom, where first she applied an herbal poultice to Misitha's arm then used her healing crescent followed by one spell. She then smeared some foul-smelling herbal concoction into Visten's small wound and passing the rest to Illana to use on Helm and Grud.

They next searched the cavern and the bodies for valuables. The king werebat had worn a magical ring for greater protection which Misitha took as her own. A dwarf-sized hammer was found with inscribed runes covering its mithril head. "A gift fer the Little King," Grud said as he slipped it into his belt.

"Thank you for clearing the vermin from my dungeons," a cold voice sneered from every direction, "I am will be happy to reward you." A charred dwarven axe-head appeared in a circle of black flames and then fell to the floor, accompanied by an evil chuckle which faded away.

The companions decided to rest and re-memorize used spells and then eat a quick meal before continuing upward toward the diva.

The sun was high in the sky as Nuarim looked out at the losing battle being fought by his brave dwarves. The Darkkin horde was still being held back, but only barely. Nuarim looked to his two friends, both Daramith and Haragis nodded, and pulled his star-lit axe from the loop at his belt. He ran to the front ranks of the dwarven warriors joined soon after by the Patrol Leader and Scoutmaster. His glowing battleaxe brought spirit back into the defending dwarves and the assault of the Dark Ones was temporarily halted and then pushed back to the base of the walls.

A small blazing dot appeared from the direction of the Ruins of Battlekeep and soon grew into a blazing chariot carrying a man in crimson armor. The orcs and goblins below let forth a rallying cry as their Highlord joined them in battle and charged the walls of Runedarmorndin with renewed fury. As the solar approached another light was seen; this coming from a huge dwarf as he teleported into the air above Firstgate. The armored dwarven avatar swung a huge battleaxe in warning as he spoke in a stern voice, "Begone creature of darkness or face the wrath of Gorm Gulthyn."

Before the chariot turned back to Battlekeep, a cold, penetrating voice spoke, "Lord Cyric will remember this day, Gorm Fire-eyes."

The dwarven guardian's brow furrowed briefly at this, but this worry disappeared quickly. Then, the dwarven God incarnate waved his hand over the assembled dwarves, healing them and protecting them from evil. This done there was a flash and he was gone to help other dwarves in need. There was a yell among the worshippers of Gorm echoed by the rest of the dwarves and the Dark horde was pushed back one hundred yards before the gate. Here they stopped and held their ground before the dwarven advance.

Nuarim turned to the awe-struck Daramith, "We might be able to hold a little longer with Gorm's blessing."

The white dragon, known as Frosadamious (or simply Frost) lay sprawled upon his bed of silver and platinum coins (and an occasional copper coin, gem, or magical item) watching the return of his lord and master, the Highlord. The arctic dragon watched as the burning dot grew out of the south until the Highlord landed his chariot and stepped off dispelling it as he did so. "Did all go well, Highlord?" Frost asked politely.

"No, it didn't, stupid beast! That meddler Gorm Fire-eyes forced me to return! But no worry; Lord Cyric will occupy him the next time. Where are the Night's Companions now?"

"They are still within the same cavern, Lord of Flame. They haven't moved since you left," the snow-white dragon answered obediently.

"Tell me when they move," the Highlord said sounding uninterested, but underneath he was planning the tortures he would use against them when he defeated them.

The Night's Companions, fully enspelled (and also full of food) walked to the far wall of the cavern where the continuing passage upward was along the upper wall. Both Dritus and Miera climbed the wall free-hand and then tied and passed down ropes for the others. The rest of the journey was easy now that they knew where they were going.

The final stair led to what used to be the interior of the upper stockade, but its walls had fallen and it now was open to the courtyard like much of the rest of the keep. The companions walked up the stair with their weapons readied and spells upon their lips. When they reached the top, they found that even these precautions might not be enough.

Standing next to a huge white dragon, was a man in silver-bracered, blood-red field platemail carrying a royal purple shield both emblazoned with Cyric's symbol--a bleached, jawless skull with red, burning eyes surrounded by a star-like, ebony sun. He carried the longsword that he had retrieved from Arik's body and wore a concealing, closed-faced helm. The only ways he differed from a normal man were in the black, flaming nimbus that engulfed him and the yellow, burning eyes that flared from within the closed helm.

The white dragon beside him was equally menacing if not more so. The beast was covered with coin-sized, flat-white scales that could withstand many strikes without giving way. Both claws and the fangs within the leering maw were red-stained from multiple kills. Being a white dragon, everyone knew that it wasn't the most intelligent of dragon species, but also well known was that its hunting prowess and cunning were the equal of anything on Toril.

"Greetings, Night's Companions, I am the Highlord, Solar of Lord Cyric, Flare of the Dark Sun. I give you a choice: bow before me in life or in death which will come extremely slowly. What is your verdict?" The diva's voice brought a sharp stab of fear into every soul who heard it.

Dritus, who seemed as untouched as ever, replied, "We would see to our own destruction before we met either of those terms, slave of darkness."

"Very well, you will be first to see the face of Cyric."

After speaking, a bolt of black flame shot from the Highlord's pointed fingertip and hit Dritus squarely in the chest. Strangely, Dritus seemed unfazed by this flaming attack and in the surprised silence that followed casually pulled the potion of speed from his right boot and quaffed it. His now-accelerated motion doubled the speed he could move and the number of attacks he could make. He took advantage of his new speed by drawing both his longsword and shortsword and charging the dragon. He was under the dragon before anyone reacted and began to cut upward. Only a few of his many attacks actually penetrated the dragon's natural armor but these were painful enough. Miera's daggers of throwing snapped into her palms and flew at the powerful reptile, one clipping a wing and the other deflecting off the scales.

Visten decided the Highlord was his primary concern and fired two of his newly found, enchanted arrows at him, both striking him in the chest. Illana cast a Melf's acid arrow spell at the Highlord which missed and began burning the ruins behind him. Misitha cast her fireball, which the Highlord stood against as if it wasn't there at all, but the dragon was scalded. Sulatha threw the ball of fire created by her produce flame spell and hurled it at the dragon, which hit but did only minute damage.

Helm attacked after drinking both a potion of super-heroism and a potion of invulnerability. He felt as if he had fought in hundreds of battles throughout a life much longer than his own and he knew that he could withstand almost any attack. He drew his original bastard sword and attacked the dragon, killing the beast before it ever could attack. Grud ran at the Highlord swinging his great axe. The Highlord skillfully dodged the first swing, but Grud reversed his momentum and sank the axe into the solar's side. Nyramir was still chewing on the dragon scales he had been unable to penetrate when he had assaulted them earlier.

The Highlord called upon the power granted him by Cyric and out of the flames of Misitha's fireball rose a blazing humanoid shape--a fire elemental. The elemental attacked Grud savagely with its flame appendages, burning him and knocking him backward with the same blow. A ball of flame appeared in the diva's hand and he hurled it at Misitha, stopping her casting and making her lose the spell she because of her wound.

Dritus, still moving faster than the eye could follow, slammed into the elemental's flank, this time his shortsword and a rarely seen dagger leading the assault. The elemental's flame body hissed as if ice had been dropped on it as the dagger penetrated. Miera attacked the Highlord to no avail and was swept away by a blow from his arm. Visten fired another two arrows one went wide, but the other slipped between two armored plates. Illana launched one of her Snilloc's Snowballs at the elemental, the ice melting on contact. Sulatha swung her mace at the elemental only to have it harmlessly pass through the fiery creature. Helm turned to the Highlord, his attacks being brushed away by the solar's red-hot blade. Grud slashed the creature from the plane of fire with a two-handed blow of his great axe. Nyramir useless against these extra-planar creatures just stood ready to guard any who needed it.

The Highlord then launched a fireball of his own--the ball's explosion including everyone, even the elemental and himself, both of which were immune to the blast. Every one of the companions was wounded in the blast with Illana, Visten, and Nyramir unconscious and close to death. Dritus attacked the elemental again after the blinding flash had passed, hitting it six times before it dissipated--sending it back to its home plane of elemental fire. Miera struck out at the crimson-clad minion of evil with her dagger and shortsword, with only her shortsword penetrating the armor. Misitha ran to the dying Visten's side and held him to her, moaning. Sulatha rushed to help the closer Illana with spells; healing her most horrible burns and letting her hold on to life. Helm exchanged blows with the Highlord, getting one and giving one.

Grud, tears streaming down his face, swing twice, screaming his anger with each blow. The first passionate swing hit the diva's shoulder; knocking him off balance, but not hurting him in the least. This is where Grud saw his opening, and he screamed with the passion of kin fallen and friends killed and every other bit of sadness and anger he had ever felt toward the Darkkin and their evil Gods. The horizontal blow was perfect in its aim--right where the helm met the breastplate of his foe--his magically enhanced strength allowed him to cut through the already weak link in the Highlord's defense, followed by the throat and spine of his enemy and out the back of the armor. The yellow-burning eyes of the decapitated head flickered angrily once before dying out completely.

Visten's spirit looked down at all that was occurring from a point above his body. He looked up once, seeing a white light approaching from the distance. As the light grew nearer, he made out two distinct forms somehow so linked that they seemed as one: that of a unicorn and that of a beautiful woman. Lady Mielikki, Visten's spirit said, I am ready to leave with you.

No, my loyal ranger, The Lady of the Forest said, I have come for another. Besides there is someone who would never let me take you. The woman/unicorn smiled as she looked down upon Misitha's weeping form. She then moved toward the form of a wolf-hound floating near his now-dead body and reached down to stroke his translucent fur.

The wolf looked at Visten with his almost-grin and said, Get back to your body, Master, or Misitha will find a way to kill me again. I'll wait for you. At this, both Mielikki and Nyramir faded away. Visten felt a pull from his corporal self and didn't resist its warm embrace.

His eyes flickered as he came to, and he looked up to see two faces looking down at him; one of a young, dark-haired priestess and the other a scaled, serpentine one that he found more beautiful than any other he had ever seen (including one belonging to the beautiful Goddess of the Forest).

"Thank Selune! That was my last spell," Sulatha's tired voice said.

All Misitha could do was hold onto her love tightly and smile.

The remaining dwarves stood in a defensive line before Secondgate (a band of hill giants having breached Firstgate and allowed the horde entry). Their line was sparse at best with only enough able-bodied dwarves to make the position one dwarf deep across the large, double gate. Nuarim stood at the center trying his best to keep the dwarven spirits up and swinging his glowing axe with the best dwarves who had ever lived.

As the head of the Highlord fell to the crumbling granite pavement of Battlekeep, the Darkkin assaulters felt the power that had been driving them onward fade suddenly and disappear. At first they remained continuing the fight, but one by one the tribes of the Dark Ones knew it was over and their leaders called them to a hasty retreat.

As the enemy's ranks thinned, the dwarves formed themselves into a giant wedge with their king at the point. The dwarves hammered this great nail into the demoralized enemy again and again, finally breaking the horde's spirit completely. The dwarves stood smiling as they watched the retreating backs of their eternal foes shrinking with distance. Every one of them knowing that it was a group of eight dwarffriends who had saved them.

"Well, let's get Runedarmorndin cleaned up--along with ourselves," Nuarim shouted as Secondgate was opened and a dwarven runner sent to inform the rest of the dwarves of their victory.

It had taken three days to completely heal Illana and Visten, but they had been happy days. Visten had risen at midday on the day after the battle and with Misitha's help had buried Nyramir's body. This parting was only temporary and only Sulatha, who had fought beside the loyal hound, had cried.

On the morning of the third day, the Night's Companions, still eight members strong, packed their belongings (including a fair-sized dragon horde) and headed south to Dwarves' Den. They were slow and leisurely--taking two days to make the overland trek that usually only took one. Along the way the escaping Darkkin did not bother them and stayed away, somehow sensing that this wasn't a group to bother.

They arrived at Firstgate (which was already being rebuilt) in the late morning. The dwarven king himself was summoned to meet the heroes. "I'm glad you all made it through alright. We were worried--it took you so long to reach us. But tonight we shall celebrate!"

The celebration of that evening was a combination heroes' welcome and victory feast which lasted long into the night. By the time the companions went to bed in their old room in the Mercenaries' Quarters, everyone was exhausted and sleep came quickly.

Before drifting off, Visten turned to Misitha, who was in his arms, and said, "Will you join with me, my love?"

"Only if you'll take me," Misitha replied. Visten, knowing that no answer was needed, kissed her and collapsed into a much-needed sleep.

A similar act had occurred without anyone's knowledge the previous evening under Selune's silver light. Helm and Miera were planning on having Sulatha perform the ceremony the next evening, but decided not to tell her until morning.

Lathander's glory had spread its rosy glow several hours before, but the tired companions had missed it; all of them had still been asleep. By mid-morning everyone had arisen, and were headed for the baths (ladies first this time). But before Sulatha had left, both Helm and Visten confronted the Priestess at the same moment (both more than a little nervous and excited). Helm got there first and said formally, "Priestess, I have a request for you. Would you join Miera and me under the Light of Our Lady this evening?" Visten walked up at this moment and his prepared speech crushed, said:

"Hand of the Lady, could this be made a double joining?"

Sulatha smiled at both of the fidgeting men and replied, "Yes, to your question and I know that can be arranged to yours. We'll start soon after the Night Lantern rises. Invite whomever you want and dress for the occasion." After finishing, the smiling Selunite left for her bath.

Preparations were underway before the ladies returned; Nuarim, Daramith, and Haragis were told by runner and informed to invite any who would come, and the rest of the companions were told. Nuarim had the kitchens informed of the coming event and invited every dwarf who was able to be there to come. Then he put on his leather forge apron, took a small bar of mithril from a hidden drawer, and went to the forge. Using the magical hammer that Grud had given him, he forged four rings (all secretly measured to fit) on two he inlayed two identical crescents of moonstone and on the other two he inlayed a small unicorn's head made from white onyx. Two for Selune and two for Mielikki, the dwarven King thought satisfied. Next, he put the four rings through the everbright treatment process, which gave them an everlasting shine and kept them from ever tarnishing.

The day progressed quickly for the adventurers and the dwarven clan, all of whom were busy in preparation for the wedding set for that evening. By the time evening had fallen everyone was outside waiting for the moon to rise. The stars appeared one by one, each seeming to outshine the last in the darkening sky, and soon the full orb of the Lady of Silver showed itself, lighting the countryside with its soft, silver radiance.

Sulatha began the ceremony, "Our Lady of Silver, we have gathered under your light to see these two pairs joined in life and love forever," she turned to the two couples, "Helm Dwarffriend and Miera Verte, Visten Asari and Misitha Danarbi, do any of you have any doubts about this joining?" None of the lovers had any objections. The Priestess continued, "Since there are no objections and all have declared their devotion, may the rings be a reminder of your promise." Nuarim, stately in his gleaming mail, passed out the rings--those with the crescents going to Miera and Helm and those with the unicorns going to Visten and Misitha. After placing the rings on the fingers of their new mates, the two couples kissed. At the instant of this kiss, a bright silver light shone about the four seeming to come from the air itself and the clomping of hooves was heard from the nearby forest signifying the consent of the two witnessing Goddesses.

A great celebration was held afterward under the stars (Grud was extremely joyous at this because he hadn't had any dinner). The couples slipped away early to confirm their love in private, but the rest of the Night's Companions stayed up to keep the night company until the Morninglord began a new day.

 

The End