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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2813633" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 564This time, his return to consciousness was both more gradual, and more painful. “Wake up,” came a voice, insistent and demanding compliance.  There was magic in that voice, and he wanted to obey, but his battered body was resisting. Benzan could only dimly feel his body, but suddenly the tension holding his arms against the rack disappeared.  He fell forward, and would have fallen except for the fact that something caught him, holding him more or less upright.  “Wake up,” came the voice again, accompanied by a flash of pain as he was slapped—hard—across the face.  Summoning a fierce effort, he opened his eyes.  He was still in the torture room, being propped up by the succubus.  Looking down, he caught sight of an ugly red and brown heap of disgusting wreckage that he realized was Yeela, or rather what was left of her.  After what he’d been through, the sight should have been a pleasant one, but he had to fight down a sudden surge of bile that threatened to rob him of what little equilibrium he’d been able to retain.“You need to get ahold of yourself,” the succubus said.  “This bitch is done, but others may come by at any minute.”His gaze traveled upward, and as he met her eyes, he thought he saw something there, through the fog that was still clouding his senses.  “Dana?”The succubus laughed, but it was a cruel, harsh sound.  “If you can think that, you’re more damaged than I expected.  No, my little tiefling, I am not your lost love, and while I might enjoy the chance to scour her from your mind and body, you must get up and move, if you wish to survive.”  He flinched as she lifted her hand, holding the bloody hook-knife that Yeela had used to much effect upon him, and slammed it into the wooden rack an inch from his bare thigh. Benzan grabbed the weapon and tugged it free, with some effort.  He felt weak, his muscles strained from hours upon hours of being lashed to manacles, or this rack, or any of the other instruments of torment located in the room.  He had experienced too much to be anything but suspicious of the succubus’s motives, or even the veracity of this entire episode.  He was all too aware that the very substance of reality as he perceived it was mutable in this place.  But he was still who he was at the core, and he would not pass up any opportunity, however slim. He had to saw at the bonds holding his ankles, and nearly fell as he staggered forward off the rack.  He had to steady himself against Yeela’s table, but did not relinquish the hook-knife as he turned to face the succubus. “Why?” he asked, glancing down at the mangled corpse of the lamia. “There is no time for idle chatter,” Kireen said.  “The window of action is extremely limited… we must move.”“So… you’re saying to trust you?”The succubus laughed again.  “You’d have to be a truly incredible fool to believe that.  No, Benzan, I ask not for your trust.  But you are free of your bonds; trust that.  Your torturer is dead at your feet; trust that.  And your freedom is a tenuous thing; you can trust that, indeed.  Now, let us go, and swiftly.  Be silent, if you do not wish to be returned to your former condition.”He tried to walk, and found that he could, with difficulty.  His legs were stiff, and the little pains that shot through his body with every movement were almost nothing in comparison to what he was used to from Yeela’s hands.A hangover’s never going to feel quite that imposing, after that, he thought to himself grimly.  But despite regaining his mobility, he knew he was far from being at his best. “Wait,” he said, his eyes turning to Yeela’s red satchel, and the injection capsules he knew lay within. “I would not recommend that,” Kireen told him.  “The drugs restore, but the side effects will impair you significantly.  I need you with your full wits about you, such as they are. You are not as harmed as you feel yourself to be right now; Yeela had instructions to keep you mostly intact.”  As she spoke, she turned to the door, and pulled it open slightly.  “It’s time to go.”“I suppose clothes would be too much to ask?”Even in her agitation, the succubus mananged a lascivious glance that slid up his naked body.  With his bones jutting from his lean frame, and his skin covered with a slick of old sweat and dried blood, he knew he had to look almost as frightening as some of the demons he’d seen in his time here.  “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep myself in check,” she said, dryly. Grimacing, his hand clutched tight on his makeshift weapon, he followed her. Chapter 565The succubus Kireen led Benzan out into a corridor of bare stone, fashioned from massive blocks of rough-hewn black rock.  His bare feet felt like they were being stabbed with tiny needles with each step, but he forced himself to ignore the pain.  The place was as quiet as the grave, and he neither saw nor heard the faintest hint of activity in the first few rooms they passed.  “Where is everybody?” he whispered, when they paused at a junction.  “Quiet,” she hissed, drawing him hastily into a side corridor a moment before Benzan heard guttural voices from the corridor ahead, and saw shadowy figures appear in the distance, coming their way.  Despite his earlier concerns he now had to trust her, as she led him around a bend, and then into a side room that opened so suddenly off the twisting passage that he nearly ran into the door as she slid it open and ducked inside. The chamber behind was extremely small, and Benzan found himself pressed close up against the succubus in a way that was decidedly uncomfortable for him.  She gave off a heady scent that affected his body despite himself, and he drew back, nearly knocking over a black crystal decanter that rested on a narrow table along the left wall. “Careful, you fool,” she said.  “We will need to move quickly.”  She took something out of a cabinet of black wood—the color seemed popular in the décor—and handed it to him.  It was a compact package of garments apparently fashioned of dark gray woolens.  He unfolded the clothes, a simple sleeveless robe with a pair of matching boots and fingerless gloves, and pulled them while the succubus watched without comment. “I could use a real weapon,” he said, when he was done.  The clothes had been designed for someone of slightly larger stature, and the robe scratched painfully against his abused flesh, but he still felt better for having at least some form of protection upon him.  “If it comes to swordplay, then it is already too late for you,” she said.  But she made no move to divest him of the small blade he carried.  He held it now at his side as he came up to her again, meeting he cold eyes with a determined stare of his own. “I think it’s time you told me what your game is here.  I’m grateful for being let out of Yeela’s cell, but I’m not going to follow you blindly into another one of Graz’zt’s little mazes.  I’ve played his sport before.”For a moment he thought she would refuse to tell him anything again, but then she leaned against him, catching him off guard as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Ah, but you are still playing, Benzan,” she said, her lips mere inches from his.  “It is just that your piece has been upgraded, and moved to a different board.”He poked her slightly in the gut with his blade, enough to get her attention.  “And Malad?  Is he another piece on this board?”The succubus chuckled.  “I can see why Graz’zt is so perturbed with you,” she said.  “And why Athux took an interest in you, after your arrival here.  There is not enough time to explain the rules of the game fully, my dear.  But let it suffice to say, that if you are returned to the list of active players, it may advance my interests in the game.”“Did Delem know the rules?”“Delem thought himself a mouse, but a raging fire burned in his veins,” the succubus said.  “That fire burns on in Malad, who is not corrupted by the weakness that you mortals instill in your young, by the pathetic ideals you espouse: mercy toward the weak, tolerance, benevolence.  He has come into his power, and he knows it.  His day has come, and he will finish the work that his father started.”“You demons are all alike,” Benzan said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Can’t wait to turn on each other, can you?”She shifted slightly, and he suddenly found his hand caught in hers, pressing the blade between them.  The way it was situated, he could not withdraw it without catching himself on the hook-end of the device.  She ran her other hand through his hair, her nails scratching his scalp hard enough to bleed him.  Her scent was intoxicating, and he found his body responding to her despite the revulsion that twisted in his gut.  “Don’t be so judgmental, Benzan.  You are, after all, one of us, no matter how hard you try to deny it.”She held him for a moment to show that she could, reveling in the effect that she had on him, and then released him.  He staggered back, upset at himself for his own weakness.  His emotions were a storm that threatened to overwhelm him, and which he barely was able to discipline.  “Use it,” she suggested.  “The anger and the despair, and yes, even the lust… that may help you get out of here alive.”  He had no reply to that, and she moved to the far wall, where a low-handing buttress provided a shadowy nook.  Her hand darted in along the wall, and a small portal opened. The secret passage was narrow and low, forcing Benzan to shuffle forward awkwardly.  The succubus seemed to have no difficulty, but she was probably used to sneaking around in these kinds of hidden tunnels, he thought grimly.  In a way, it was a relief to be able to press up against the adjacent walls to steady himself.  But there was no chance to rest; Kireen moved swiftly ahead of him, and after a few sharp turns she paused to open another doorway in the side of the passage. “Come on, come on,” she said, holding the door for her.  Benzan sensed the change in her demeanor, and his hand tightened on the handle of his weapon. The room was the largest one he’d seen yet, thirty feet or more across with a high vaulted ceiling that rose up at least twenty feet above.  The chamber was irregularly shaped, with deep alcoves and uneven nooks that were lost in shadow.  The place was lit by a half-dozen glowing red globes that appeared to be cemented into niches in the walls; each shone with barely more light than a candle’s flame.  There were a few exits, doorways warded by tall arches, but it was immediately clear why the succubus had brought him here. The secret door opened onto a black alcove.  The adjacent wall to their right was dominated by a massive gatehouse, a tunnel twelve feet wide and fifteen feet tall, flanked by a large winch apparatus that appeared to be linked by thick cables to the two black iron portcullises that blocked the passage.  Benzan did not have to advance all of the way into the room to know that the tunnel led outside; he could feel the subtle shift in the air.  “There should be guards,” he whispered, as Kireen closed the door and came up behind him.  “Do you think that I would not have made preparations for your escape, before releasing you from Yeela?” she said, taunting him, but also finally acknowledging what he’d not been able to believe until now, that he was going to get out of here.  What would come next was still unknown, but at the moment he considered that it had to be better than enjoying more of Graz’zt’s hospitality.  “The citadel is nearly empty, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t eyes watching.  This is a secondary entrance, but a patrol may be by at any moment.  Come, let’s go.”She led him over to the winch.  The device looked to be too large for even the two of them together to manipulate, but she ran her fingers along the rim of the mechanism, muttering words of commands in the Abyssal tongue.  The thing creaked to life, twisting the cables around it of its own volition.  The portcullises creaked slowly upward, making a noise that wasn’t especially loud, but which sounded cacophonous to Benzan’s hyperalert senses.“What happens after we get outside?” Benzan asked, while they waited.  “Someone will be waiting for my signal,” she said.  “You will be delivered to…”But Benzan never found out the identity of Kireen’s co-conspirator.  Facing toward the back of the chamber, he caught the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye; the faintest warning that would not have been enough to save him, had he been its target.  He stumbled back as a fiery beam of red-hot energy struck the succubus square across her back, splashing out in a spray of eager tongues of flame that transformed her wings to blackened char, and roasted her soft flesh.  She screamed and staggered, but recovered quickly enough to lunge for the exit, still mostly blocked by the portcullis.  Benzan, overcome, lost his balance and fell, the hard stone jolting him roughly, and could only watch as his “rescuer” abandoned him. But the dark shadow that had lurked in one of the alcoves near the ceiling above was quicker.  Even as the succubus started to dive forward, her body jerked roughly to the side, and her forward motion was immediately arrested as she was sucked back into the air.  Benzan could only stare in stunned terror as she was lifted into the grasp of a huge black thing that clung to the arch above the exit.  The succubus, impaled upon one of the creature’s long limbs, struggled feebly, then was ended as several more of the creature’s limbs stabbed into her, piercing her torso and rending her organs.  Blood exploded down from her savaged body, splashing crimson upon the iron gate, the bare flagstones, and on the wide-eyed tiefling who watched as his prospects took a sudden and decisive turn for the worse. Chapter 566Cal folded the little book in his hands, leaned back in the plain stone chair, and closed his eyes.  For a moment it looked as though he intended to drift off to sleep, then he let out a loud breath and looked back down at the book in his hands. It wasn’t his spellbook, but a much more compact volume bound in blue leather, just the right size for a large pocket.  It had the look of a book that had been lovingly prized and read for decades, although it had only been in Cal’s possession for a little over a tenday.  His fingers passed over the binding, which felt as familiar to him as if he’d owned the book all his life.  As he’d done a dozen times already, he opened the cover and looked at the message scribed therein, in an elegant script that was both quick and efficient in its march across the page. Archmage Balander Calloran,I have been following your efforts for some time.  Your pursuit of the higher talents of the Art we share has been admirable; for a time I too had to address how to balance the demands of magic with the needs of the practitioner. I am sure you do not need any accolades from me to know that you are among the ten foremost students of the mysteries of the Weave extant upon Faerûn.  From this point on, your perceptions will continue to expand outward, into new realities that are both fantastic and basic, in a core elemental sense.  You will learn much about yourself, but never forget who you were; keeping yourself grounded will help anchor you when the flux of new possibilities threaten to tear you asunder from yourself. I know that this is not the most convenient time to explore your transfiguration; like many who have journeyed into the realm of the epic, you face a tumult of danger. I do not imagine that you will have the time for study and contemplation that you would desire.  I, too, lacked this pleasure when fate took me into her less than tender embrace. Likewise you do not need me to tell you of the true nature of your foe.  I offer this book as a gift, to ease your way.  It is not a book of answers, nor is it a key to the dilemmas you face.  Rather, it is a guide, to help you to develop that which you already know lies within.The message did not have a signature at the end, but embossed into the fabric of the parchment page was a sigil, marked in silver filigree so faint that the slightest movement of his eyes from it caused it to fade from view, as if it had never existed.  He knew the symbol, had carried it with him long before he had come to own the book.  One finger held up, as if to assert that there was only one truth, at the center of it all. The book had come to him through mysterious circumstances.  He had been studying in the library of the Guild in Waterdeep.  Cramming, really, in the manner that young students had pursued since time immemorial.  He was no longer young, but the threat that he and his friends faced from the dark Prince of the Abyss drove him more than any mere professor’s final examination could.  He still remembered those spells he had forced… yes, that was the only word for it, spells that he’d jammed into his mind, until their formulae popped into his mind during sleep and wakefulness, pushing out more mundane thoughts like the needs of the body.  He’d paid a price for those spells, indeed.  But even in the short time since then, he’d already grown beyond the power that had seemed so incredible at the time. He tried to call up the man’s face, but still could not.  Perhaps someday, when he had the time for contemplation cited in the message in the front of the book.  All he remembered was soft blue robes, a voice that seemed to radiate a calm competence, and the book.  Left for him… he must have taken it, and while he remembered reading through it on several occasions, he could not recall actually thinking consciously about it, until very recently.  Perhaps he had just not had the time… or maybe, he had not been ready for it, until now. He turned the pages swiftly.  The few spells within were almost absurd in their power.  Several already burned within his mind, awaiting release.  And there was much more… formulae that he knew he would spend the rest of his life delving, and probably only to understand a small fraction of them.  Other bits of lore, fragments, really, each promising more knowledge if he could only tease them together to reveal their secrets.  Just skimming the book, he had to fight the urge to fall into the pages again, only to rise many hours later, as weary as if he’d spent a day in hard march.  He did not have many hours, of that he was certain, at least.  He closed the book with some reluctance, and set it upon the desk before him.  Like the chair and the bed, it was plain unadorned stone.  The Bastion was a stronghold in truth, but it lacked much in the way of amenities.  Fortunately Mole had dug out—of all things!—a down pillow from her bag of holding, and since she’d barely spent ten minutes here before slipping out to explore the citadel, Cal had made good use of it.  The candle upon the desk burned very slowly, but Cal judged that they’d been here at least a half-day, as they judged the passage of time.  He’d spoke to Dannel briefly a short while ago, long enough to learn that their situation had remained unchanged.  For now.  The demons continued pressing their assault, but as long as the Warder remained intact, the fortress was probably secure.  But Cal knew that the demonic horde gathered in the canyon outside represented only a small fraction of the forces brought here by the Prince.  And he knew that while the magic Graz’zt had wrought had to have taken a lot out of him, it was only a matter of time before he unleashed his final assault upon this final safehold.Their situation here was extremely tenuous.  Saureya had known it as well as they; Cal had seen that the minute he’d seen the once-fallen deva.  Or was he still fallen?  Saureya occupied a unique position that defied classification.  Morgan had given over leadership to him, or at least that was how the other celestials perceived it.  The deva seemed to accept that role with the same resignation that he regarded the battle for Occipitus.  Cal knew, of course, that Saureya had suffered in a way that he could not even begin to comprehend. He sighed at the memory of it.  They had not gotten off to a good start.  Saureya had greeted them within a few moments of their arrival, once the hordeling and his weird passenger had veered off from their diving attack.  They had the Warder to thank for that; the statue, barely identifiable as anything other than a rough-hewn pillar, was the source of the golden light they’d seen from the far end of the canyon.  Cal had not had time to study it long.  The figure occupied the rear of the cavern formed between the shield wall and the overhang from the mountain behind, thirty feet tall, a massive warrior whose features had to be left to the imagination.  But the glow coming from it was real, as was the potent antipathy effect that blanketed the Bastion, driving away all that was chaotic and evil.  After what had happened in getting here, Cal might have hoped for a general mood of relief, but Beorna had immediately challenged the deva.  “I am surprised to see you here,” she had said.  “I would have thought that you would have turned your cloak again by now.”Cal had winced, although the gesture had not been obvious in the silver dragon form he’d polymorphed into.  But the deva had not responded to the dwarf’s challenge.  He’d merely nodded to himself, as if noting their presence on a tally sheet in his mind, and then handed them over to his adjutants for assignment to quarters within the citadel.  Even the dwarves had been too stunned (and beat up) to react before the deva departed with the Voice, the latter delivering his report as they left.  Everything after that was sort of a blur.  They’d been fed, bland but nourishing food that satisfied the needs of their bodies.  Then rest, at least for him; Mole had headed off almost at once and he suspected that Lok, at least, had probably spent most of the last half-day helping the defenders on the wall.  He hoped that Umbar and Beorna had at least had the good sense to get some sleep; they would need the spells of the clerics before this was done.  The demons were probably suffering heavy losses in their ongoing low-intensity assault upon the fortress, but he knew that they were just marking time until the main force of Graz’zt’s armies reached them. At least in that sense, Graz’zt’s lock gave them some respite; if the demons could have teleported, the battle for Occipitus would have been over in a matter of minutes.    Of course, this way it was just a delay of the inevitable.  Given the current odds, Cal could not see how it could turn out any other way.  With that assumption, there were only a few options left to them, none of them very pleasant.  He had some ideas, but he wanted to speak to the others before he made any commitments, even in his own mind. His musings were interrupted by a potent thrumming, a vibration that momentarily shook the very core of the mountain in which the Bastion lay.  So much for the lull, he thought, leaping up and reaching for his gear.</blockquote>

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