Mordrayn stared at her new commander a long time, flexing her talons as she pondered his proposal. Not a sound broke the stillness. Finally, she nodded in assent. Plan wisely. Use the drow slaves as you see fit. And if you fail, pray that they kill you..

The magical gate reappeared. A moment later, the archmage was gone.

Immediately, the commander spun to face the seated figures. "Get up, you maggots! Get moving! You-get everyone in here…"

Kestrel backed away from the doors and returned to the others. "We've found the baelnorn-the cult is holding him captive here." As she described the scene she'd just witnessed, the sound of an enormous bolt sliding back indicated that the doors now indeed stood unlocked. "We haven't much time. They're mobilizing quickly."

Corran leaned on his sword, frowning. "How many are there?"

"Hard to say-I could see only shadows. A dozen, perhaps more. I suspect at least some of them are sorcerers, as the captain was one."

All eyes turned to the paladin, including Kestrel's. She'd never been involved in an out-and-out battle against an organized military force. For once, she was happy to let Corran take command. Was this the confidence Ghleanna had described?

Corran rubbed his temples, then mumbled a brief prayer to Tyr. "Okay, here's what we do."

The cult forces were still organizing when Kestrel and her party burst into the room. The element of surprise won them a momentary advantage-long enough for Ghleanna to launch a fireball at the living warriors and Jarial to use the Staff of Sunlight to weaken the enthralled drow assembled in the chamber. The combined effect created a burst of light so bright that even the surface-dwellers blinked.

The enslaved Kilsek staggered under the visual assault, cringing and covering their eyes. Kestrel picked off two of the weakened dark elves without even a struggle, slipping behind them in the bright light of day and sinking a dagger between their shoulder blades. Faeril sent two more to their final rest in the shock of the initial onslaught, her new blade glowing with holy fire.

At the sight of flames dancing around the steel, Kestrel glanced at the cleric in surprise. "I didn't know that was a magical weapon."

Faeril regarded the sword in awe. "Neither did I." She celebrated the discovery by plunging the blade into another dark elf.

Ghleanna had been assigned the task of subduing the commander, at whom she immediately launched a second spell. They'd all hoped the lieutenant would prove the only sorcerer among the cultists-the party had entered combat under the shield of protective spells, but their magical defenses couldn't hold out forever. Soon, Kestrel saw a sorcerous battle unfold out of the corner of her eye, with Ghleanna and the lieutenant launching magical volleys at each other.

Corran, once again cloaked by invisibility, was to help the half-elf slay the commander, applying steel to supplement spells. Kestrel saw no sign yet of the paladin, but her attention was focused on another drow opponent. The soulless dark elf moved his hands in the gesture-language of Razherrt and his followers. At the last second, she realized he was casting a spell. She dropped to the floor and rolled, trying to dodge his aim, but to no avail. A fan of flames burst from his hands, searing her side.

She yelped in pain but got to her feet, more determined than ever to save Nathlilik the trouble of releasing this particular Kilsek into true death. She hurled Loren's Blade at him, catching him in the throat. Beside her, Faeril's flame blade dispatched the last enthralled drow.

Meanwhile, six cult fighters charged Durwyn. Jarial appeared to launch a spell at them, but Kestrel saw no visible effect. She soon realized, however, that the fighters moved more slowly than they had before. Faeril rushed to fight beside Durwyn, while Kestrel maintained her position and sent Loren's Blade flying once more.

As Ghleanna unleashed a series of fire bursts, a cry of "Death to Tyr's enemies!" revealed Corran's whereabouts. Pathfinder penetrated the cult commander's defenses, striking a blow at the evil sorcerer's back. The combination of Ghleanna's spells and Corran's sword proved the mage's undoing, and before long he lay on the floor with the dead drow.

Ghleanna, however, suffered serious burns on her arms and face from one of the cultist's enchantments. Faeril, having just dispatched her opponent with a fatal strike to the chest, disengaged from combat to attend the half-elf. Durwyn had defeated two foes, leaving just three cult fighters blocking the entrance to the baelnorn's cell.

Kestrel noted the situation with cautious optimism. They could handle the remaining cultists-Corran and Jarial had already weakened two of them. Victory was all but assured.

Until the reinforcements arrived.

Without warning, a gate opened in the corner of the room. The additional forces the lieutenant had summoned earlier spilled out, surprised to find a battle in progress but ready to fight nonetheless. Cult fighters and countless enslaved drow entered the fight filling Kestrel with despair. How could they possibly prevail against these numbers?

"Close the gate!" Corran shouted.

"How?" she shouted back. Even if she knew a way to physically shut a magical portal, too many foes stood between them and the opening.

Jarial darted off to the side, positioning himself directly across from the gate. He unleashed a forked lightning bolt straight at the portal. One branch stopped the flow of cultists streaming out by electrocuting those hapless individuals immediately within. The other branch hit the gate itself, sending a crackle of electrical feedback racing through the very fabric of the portal. The gate snapped and wavered and popped. Random zaps of energy ricocheted within its walls. In a great burst of light, it collapsed.

Kestrel had no time to appreciate the fireworks-too many cultists and drow swarmed the room. Three soulless dark elves had her backed into a corner from which she feared she would never emerge. She found herself unable to land a single offensive blow on any of them-parrying their strikes was the best she could do.

Another burst of sunlight issued from Jarial's staff, causing Kestrel's opponents and the rest of the Kilsek to stagger under the sudden brightness. She seized the advantage and brought her club down on one foe's skull with every ounce of strength she could muster. He slumped to the floor, but another dark elf took his place. The new opponent crippled her left arm with a retributive strike. Moments later, one of his comrades cut her legs out from under her.

Kestrel fell hard. She tried to push the pain from her consciousness, but it clutched at her mind like dark tentacles wrapping around her every thought. Her arm hung limp at her side, the broken bone protruding through her skin and armor. She transferred her club to her right hand and prepared to hold out as long as she could against the swarming dark elves. She called out, trying to draw someone's attention to her situation, but with their whole party so severely outnumbered she doubted anyone could help her.

This was it, then, the place where she would die-beset by undead drow in the bowels of Myth Drannor. She had always wondered.

She fended off two more blows but could not block the third. It slammed into her head, knocking her flat and blurring her vision. Did she still face three drow, or did six now surround her? Through the haze overtaking her awareness, she heard Faeril's voice rise above the din of battle. "By the grace of Mystra, I command thee to fall back!"

They were the last words she heard.