To an unschooled observer, it would look like nothing more than a playful dance, a choreographed piece of theater with no application to the real world, but Marissa saw within Taenaran's flowing movements the deadly art of the bladesinger. She'd seen the half-elf use his training in battle before but never like this. Marissa knew the shame that he carried within him, knew that such a burden often caused the young half-elf to fight his trained battle instincts. The result was usually a stilted attack, something that resembled the art she had seen a few times before in her life-like a pseudo-dragon resembles a full-grown wyvern-but never quite matched its purity.
Something had clearly changed for the half-elf-had been changing ever since they started off on this journey, if Marissa was honest. In combat, at least, he seemed no longer to be two persons-a gifted acolyte of an ancient and revered art, and a dishonored exile struggling to find peace-inhabiting the same skin. The druid saw in his uninhibited sword work what he must have been before tragedy and guilt had crippled him. The vision made her smile-not for the destruction Taenaran wreaked, but for the healing that so obviously had taken place.
A furtive movement off to her side caught Marissa's attention. She spun to face it just as a swarm of giant spiders dropped down onto the bridge from the darkness above. The druid cursed as the fat-bodied arachnids scuttled forward on long, spindly legs. She had been too busy focusing on the battle in front of her, not paying attention to any danger which might present itself from above.
She called out a warning as the bloated spiders attacked. One of the monsters leaped toward her, attempting to knock her down with its thick body, which looked to be nearly three feet in diameter. Marissa spun out of the creature's path and brought her staff down on its head. Blood and gore sprayed the bridge as her mystic weapon struck the spider with a meaty thump. The wounded monster let out a horrifying screech and scuttled backward, spinning madly in pain.
Another arachnid darted forward quickly, nearly tripping the druid. She dodged wildly out of the way, breathing a quick sigh of relief as it bit nothing but the air, mandibles clacking together harshly. Marissa's celebration was short lived, however. Two more spiders crawled over the side of the bridge. The druid managed to call fire down upon one of them. It shrieked and died almost instantly, its long legs curling inward as its body smoked and smoldered on the bridge. Its companion, however, scurried around the corpse, finally interposing the bulk of its body between her and her companions. Before she could react, three more of the creatures followed suit. She called out once more to her friends, but the press of the remaining ogres and goblins pinned them to their own defensive ground.
As one, the spiders attacked.
Two of the creatures scuttled forward and caught the druid's staff in their barbed mandibles. Desperately, she tried to shake them off, but their arachnoid strength was too much for her. The remaining two leaped forward. This time, the druid could not avoid them. One of the spiders bit down hard on the flesh of her neck. She screamed once in pain and felt the beast's deadly toxins flow, mixing with her blood. Fire burned within her breast.
Immediately, her vision swam. Horrified, she could feel the poison sapping her strength, sending shuddering spasms like shockwaves through her muscles. Dimly, she recalled the words to a spell that would burn the toxin from her system. Marissa called out the words to the spell just as another spider bit down hard upon her thigh. The fragments of her spell blew away like a candle snuffed by the wind.
"Taenaran," she managed to cry out before the darkness took her in its shadowed arms.
Taen heard Marissa's cry.
The half-elf ducked beneath the club of the last remaining ogre and looked behind him. He was horrified to see the gathering of spiders surrounding the beleaguered druid. The shock of it shattered the strains of the Song. Energy fled from his arms and legs. They felt heavy, weighed down by fatigue and fear and sorrow.
"See to her," Borovazk shouted and barreled into the lone ogre, forcing the creature back a single step.
Taen gazed at the battered and bloody Rashemi ranger just for a heartbeat before running toward the druid. Even from here he could see the angry purplish-red tracks wending toward her heart from the wounds on her chest and leg.
Poison!
Taen knew that he had only moments to scatter the spiders and let the druid drink from one of the potions he had with him. Pushing his body beyond its limits, the half-elf leaped into the air. He sailed in a wide arc, one that he knew would carry him over the menacing bodies of two spiders.
Only to rebound off of an invisible barrier.
The half-elf fell to the ground at the same moment that he witnessed Marissa do the same. He would have screamed her name, but the fall had sucked the wind out of him. Desperately he pounded against the wall, using both sword and spell, hoping to bring it down, all the while watching the spiders cover Marissa's body with their disgusting webs. Though the invisible barrier flickered and flared several times beneath his assault, the mystic wall held.
Within moments, the spiders had secured Marissa and began to scuttle up in to the shadows, crawling quickly up their nearly invisible strands of web. Taen shouted separately to his companions for help. In silent accord, Borovazk and Roberc plunged their weapons into the remaining ogre. It fell to the ground, shaking the bridge. At its demise, the few remaining goblins shrieked in fear and fell back into the undertomb.
Quickly Borovazk dropped his weapons and drew his curved long bow. With surprising speed, he loosed two arrows. The feathered shafts hissed into the shadows, pursuing the retreating spiders. Taen watched them cut through the air like hunting falcons-only to veer quite suddenly to the left, as if swatted by an invisible hand.
Taen cursed and fell to his knees.
Above him, spiders carried Marissa's web-covered form into the darkness.
Chapter 21
The Year of the Serpent
(1359 DR)
Thunder rumbled among the storm-wracked sky.
Chill rain fell like a hail of arrows upon those tael still battling in the forest clearing. The senior apprentices fought hard, their bodies carried forward in a complex dance of deadly steel. Loud gasps of breath echoed in the clearing, cutting through the silence left behind by the harsh clamor of blades, the ring of steel upon steel.
Despite a bone-deep fatigue that threatened to slow and paralyze muscles worked hard to the point of failure, Taenaran was enjoying himself. An opponent's sword snaked toward him on his left side. Without breaking stride, he flicked his own blade in a downward stroke at the incoming attack. As the weapons met, he raised his right foot and twisted his hips, using the initial momentum of his parry to carry him into a sideways flip. The maneuver allowed him to avoid a second opponent's incoming sweep toward his legs. He slid to the left, and his two opponents attacked each other.
Such was the way of alu'dala, the water battle. Alu'dala was an ancient exercise, a group combat where each participant met and blended with the attacks of all others near him. The purpose of the exercise was not so much to vanquish opponents as to flow with the energy each attack created. Among masters, the alu'dala could last days.
Taenaran would be satisfied if he made it through the next few candle lengths. At first, the rain had been a welcome gift, cooling off his overheated body. Now the frigid water mixed with his own sweat, running into the half-elf's eyes and making it difficult to see the whole battlefield. He barely avoided the slashing attack of a long-muscled apprentice to his right. With an inward curse at his own lapse of concentration, he sucked down a lungful of air and rolled across the rapidly muddying ground, bringing his own sword up to attack the nearest opponent. It was a difficult maneuver, one that required a great deal of coordination. The fact that he executed it perfectly brought a smile to his face-and a grimace of dismay from the defending apprentice, who obviously hadn't expected the half-elf to succeed quite so spectacularly. Even though the apprentices' blades were not honed to combat sharpness, they could still do some damage. Taenaran's sword slipped beneath his opponent's guard and pierced the elf's skin. The wounded apprentice fell backward just as one of the masters called out his elimination from the exercise.