Jaleigh Johnson - Spider and Stone

“Thought you were going to sleep the winter away,” he said gruffly. “Are you all right, then?”

“I’m fine,” Icelin said, “just a little bruised.” Ruen, Garn, and Obrin stood off to the side, behind the council members. She nodded to father and son. They acknowledged her by lifting their weapons. No words needed.

“My thanks to you all,” Mith Barak said, directing the words to the council. “You know what to do, and I trust you to do it.”

“My king,” the council murmured. One by one, they bowed low and left the hall. When the doors closed behind them, Mith Barak said to Garn, “Well, old friend, I’m leaving you a fine mess; that’s certain.” The king held out a gaunt hand to the runepriest. “I wish it could be otherwise. I truly do.”

“We’ll be all right, my king,” Garn said roughly, clasping the king’s forearm. “When you reawaken, the city will be built anew.”

“You’re going back to the stone,” Icelin said. Of course. Magic had exacted its own price from the dragon. Mighty Mith Barak would have to sleep a very long time to recover from the battle. Longer than her life, and Ruen’s, maybe longer than Garn’s. Judging by the look on the runepriest’s face, he knew it too.

Mith Barak turned when Icelin spoke. “The sphere is gone,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Icelin nodded. “I’m sorry.”

The king waved her off. “It’s for the best,” he said. “It’ll find its way into better hands than the children of Lolth.” Mith Barak beckoned Icelin closer and leaned in to speak. “Will you think less of me, girl, if I admit to being afraid?”

The statement surprised her, but Icelin immediately said, “Not at all. I understand.”

“Do you? I’m afraid for my people, but it’s more than that. I haven’t felt safe in so long, and I see an uncertain future before me.” Mith Barak smiled ruefully. “You’d think, at my great age, the fear would go away.” His voice dropped. “But it never does. It shames me to say it, but it never does.”

Icelin hesitated. What could she possibly say to him? She reached out to touch the king’s shoulder. If he was surprised by the gesture, Mith Barak didn’t show it. Icelin remembered her dream, the voice in the dark. “You have to let go,” she said. “No one can be certain of the future. Trust in your people. They will watch over you and think of you every day of their lives.”

Mith Barak looked at her for a long time in silence. Slowly he nodded. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to be so young, to have so much faith,” he said. “My thanks.”

He turned to ascend to his throne, and Icelin could bear it no longer. She looked at Ruen pleadingly, and he nodded. Together, they and Sull left the chamber to give Garn and Obrin one last moment of privacy with their king.

Outside the hall, the three of them stood silently in the middle of the ruined plaza. Icelin felt as though she’d just attended the first of many funerals for the days ahead. She wiped her eyes and tried to smile, but she couldn’t manage it. She found herself thinking of the library suddenly. What would happen to the seneschal while Mith Barak was gone to the stone? Would she carry on, alone, guarding the tomes of dwarf lore? How many of them had been lost, damaged beyond repair in the explosion?

“They’ve lost so much,” Sull commented, echoing Icelin’s thoughts. “Is it worth rebuildin’?”

“It’s worth it,” Ruen said.

This time Icelin did manage to smile. “Don’t tell me you’re becoming an optimist. I’ve had one too many shocks today. I might expire from this one.”

She’d intended it as a pure jest, but she hadn’t thought about how the words might affect Ruen. Glancing uneasily at his face, she saw humor alight there. He tipped his hat to her. “Being in your company as long as I have, I suppose it was only a matter of time,” he said.

He smiled at her, and Icelin’s heart warmed.

It’s going to be all right, she thought. We will heal from this.

“We should be leaving soon,” Icelin said. “I’m ready to see the sky again.”

“About that,” Sull said, clearing his throat.

“You have a destination in mind?” Ruen said, raising an eyebrow at the butcher.

“Well, I’m all for this adventurin’ life, but I’m goin’ to need to go back to Waterdeep at some point to replenish my supplies and check on my shop,” Sull said. “In the spring, maybe?”

“I think that can be arranged,” Icelin said.

“Adventurers, then?” Ruen said. He looked at Icelin. “That’s what you want?”

“I think so,” Icelin said. “My parents embraced the life, and it brought them happiness. In truth, I think it doesn’t matter where I go or what I do. I have what I want most right here, within reach.”

THE UNDERDARK

Zollgarza emerged from the shadows of the tunnel, past the last remaining outpost of Iltkazar. No one hindered her. No one was left alive to do the job. Still, she moved cautiously, using instincts honed from years of stealth training-training that had happened only in her mind. Zollgarza’s lips curved. Even a false personality had its uses.

Those false memories slipped into her conscious mind, whispering to her, trying to assert themselves over the other, true memories that were just coming back to her. Zollgarza leaned against the wall and pressed her forehead to the stone, concentrating. Suddenly, she slammed her head against the stone on a curse.

Pain erupted behind her eyes, and Zollgarza slid limply to the floor. Shivering, Zollgarza clutched her shoulders as if she could hold herself together by sheer force of will.

“I am Zollgarza,” she whispered to the darkness. “I am Zollgarza.”

The vast expanse of the Underdark loomed before her, but it offered no answer. She’d considered going back to Guallidurth. With Fizzri gone, she could assert a place for herself in the temple of Lolth. She’d once held great power in the city. Whatever story Fizzri had made up in her absence could easily be denied or altered. If she wanted to, she could …

Inside her, the Black Creeper reared up in denial. I will not place myself at the mercy of the priestesses. Those bitches that look at me with contempt. Never!

“Be silent!” Zollgarza cried aloud. She forced herself to stand even as a wave of dizziness clutched at her head. “I will master you, devil. I will. I will.” She chuckled at the way her high-pitched voice echoed in the tunnel.

Mother Lolth, I will master this. Watch your broken one. I will master this, and I will return .

She looked down at the Arcane Script Sphere clutched in her hand and laughed again.

Zollgarza shuffled off down the tunnel, into the depths of the Underdark, still uttering that hollow laugh, until the darkness swallowed her.