Memnon, Calimshan
(7th of Alturiak, 1380 Dalereckoning)
Vala had refused to answer any further questions, and remained with her father in a second floor bedroom after they fortified the house Amon had taken for himself. Adir had personally overseen the repurposing of the wards. With the original caster absent (probably not permanently dead, he reminded himself bitterly), it was a relatively simple task to twist them against their intended purposes. Requesting the aid of his god, Ormat also shielded the foundation against psionic intrusion, such as a dimensional door or long distance teleportation. Neither of them could assure the other that the Illithid couldn’t find a way through, but it was a start.
“Looks like we have a safehouse, then.” he noted dryly, appreciating the more mundane defenses; the windows were boarded up, the front door reinforced with steel and the rear door sealed entirely.
“Not the prettiest abode, but you will be safe here. I will have it stocked with several weeks of supplies. Nobody travels this street often, save the occasional misthead or alleyway robber. This isn’t the nicer part of the city, after all.”
“Perfect.” Adir replied, “With a few servants and men-at-arms, we will manage here while I plan our infiltration of Almraiven.”
“And if Ahriman himself comes for us?”
“Away from his defenses, he is weaker. And he can’t move soldiers into a rival city without provoking armed conflict. No; he will wait for us, if he knows of this place at all. Or maybe send more assassins.”
“Expensive.”
“He’s a damned king, Ormat! Nothing we can’t handle.”
The Genasi nodded, distant, “Alright then...just stay out of that book for a while, will you? I’d hate to see my rare turn of conscience go unrewarded.”
He nodded, and the silence stretched.
“Hey...” Adir added, approaching his friend with a smile bereft of any of his usual tact, “I’m glad you sided with me. I was worried for a moment there.”
He offered his hand, a gesture he’d made to signal an assassination on more than one occasion, and felt a profound sense of relief when Ormat looked genuinely embarrassed, hesitating for a moment to take it. But take it he did, sighing, “I’d like to say I wasn’t tempted, but Sashelas would scorn me for it. I’m happy it turned out this way, I think. That at least doesn’t taste of a lie.”
Daring an embrace, something he’d never done before, Adir nodded, and left his friend to his thoughts. There were more pressing matters...
Two, swirling, circling. Awareness, for the first time, of each other.
Questions, many. Unfocused. Difficult to formulate when inside.
A request, quickly rebuked.
Repeated, insistent.
Fear. Indignation.
Assurance.
Uncertainty.
Apology.
A moment’s confusion, acceptance.
Vala.
Vala.
“Vala.”
Vala blinked, repeatedly, but her eyes adjusted quickly. The disorientation, however, was slower to pass.
Her father was watching her carefully, eyes narrowed, betraying intense concentration.
“Your presence feels...different now. More how it used to. Your eyes are normal again.”
Nodding, Vala rubbed her temples, “I never knew. All this time and I...I never knew.”
“Knew what?”
“I never...even stopped to consider...”
“Knew what?”
“How could I have shut her away like that? What was I-”
Her father forcefully shook her, his teeth clenched, rage held at bay by a measure of control only a Dark Elf could manage, ”What should you have known?!”
Placing a hand over his, Vala nodded, “It isn’t just me in here.”
His intensity not diminished, Netal bade her continue.
Vala struggled for words, then, “That’s how I fought off the Illithid’s domination. There wasn’t just one mind in me, but two. She took over. When I...lose control, I feel an awesome power grip me. I lose myself. I feel...distant, like I’m being pushed away. I should have known that what I called Nobody wasn’t just an extension of me. It was, is, another me.”
Again, that little voice roiled inside of her, and this time she didn’t fight to push it back down. Words, unbidden, echoed in her mind, in an accent more akin to Menzoberranzan, ”These words....difficult. I’m not used to...speaking, like this. I’ve only been inside. So...angry.”
“When I went into the Underdark.” Vala said, regaining control, “Something broke inside me. I went feral. Everything became...fuzzy. I think, being alone for so long, my mind couldn’t take it.”
"One became two.”
“When Iljrene and Alirana found me, they brought me back. This other part of me was newer. It was unfocused. It couldn’t communicate. So they restrained it, or made me restrain it, by forcing me to remember. The drugs they used...goddess...”
She stood up, unable to contain herself anymore, “And whenever I felt those stirrings, I pushed them down inside me. She only took over when I lost control entirely; raging, uncertain...”
"Somebody.”
“Yes. You’re not Nobody. You’re somebody.”
“This is too much.”
Confused, Vala watched her father stand up, “So you’re telling me what killed those Illithid is not who I am speaking to now? That you’re two people? Two Psions?”
“It would explain my resilience. My extra reserves of power. The change in tactics. She learned her abilities more abruptly. She’s untrained. Inexperienced. But immeasurably stronger. No wonder I relied on her when I had nothing left.”
“And you just spoke to her, right now? She spoke to you?”
“Yes.”
“By the dark below...you realize how insane this sounds?!”
“We dealt with madness every day down there, Father.”
“This is different.”
“Is it?” Vala asked, “They say Lloth had many aspects, many fragments that interact with the denizens of the Demonweb Pits, with mortals here in the Prime Material Plane, and even with each other.”
“You’re not a god.”
“No, I’m not.” she acquiesced, “But there’s something different about me. Something special, maybe. And I know who can tell me what that is.”
“But first...” she decided, “Somebody isn’t going to cut it. What should I call you?”
An impression of one of her books impressed upon her, one she’d read in the Promenade’s study. Legends of the east, wherein lands were terrorized by six-armed Demons of wrath. A name, ”Asura.”
Hesitation, then, ”Asara.”
“It’ll do. Well, I suppose that makes us Vala Asara Oblodra Telth’Zol.”
"Damn mouthful, that.”
“Right.”
"You know what we need to do.”
Nodding, righted herself, Vala drew the scepter Ahriman had used to nearly break her back in Almraiven, “And we have another to deal with, too. I don’t know who you are, but I think we can help each other.”
Distress, but begrudging acceptance. The scepter was hers, for now.
“Good. I hope Adir learned to travel to many realms already. I need to get into Arvandor.”
He hadn’t yet returned. Should it have taken this long?
Erona Firelash scrubbed the floors, careful not to leave anything behind.
Amon had thought his abuse, these petty tasks, would break her spirit. They only made her angrier.
Though outwardly calm, even timid, Erona stroked the fires of her rage, teasing it near sublimation. So close, but never enough to burst free. Let Amon enjoy his victory. He would grow careless, and she would be ready.
He may have taken her spellbook, her components. But her greatest strength was her willingness to suffer to get what she wanted. To the hells with magic when a sharp object would work perfectly well. Her escape she could purchase with the scrolls on his person, maybe contact her servants, if any there were.
A door slammed in the distance, and she heard her name being called. Harshly.
She smiled; it seemed Adir still lived, and better, clearly proven the stronger. If she had to guess, it took one of Amon’s Demon allies to save him.
That knowledge she stored away; Adir could be useful to her, when he returned to Almraiven.
Another door, much closer. She stood up as he burst into the room, his eyes ablaze with murderous rage that mirrored her inner sentiments. But she played the role of helpless prisoner ably, looking startled, abashed even.
“Room. Now.” he snapped, striking the rag from her hands, and storming to his private chambers.
A little longer. More fuel for the fire, the better to burn him away when the time came.
"Absolutely not!”
“Adir...”
“First, you tell me of this Asara...then you ask me to send you alone into the afterlife?! For no reason than to speak with this patron you’ve seen in hallucination?”
“It isn’t something I can easily explain...”
“Damn it, woman! You are bearing my heir! I suffered you your return to your people and I nearly lost you forever today. I will not suffer this.”
“Adir...”
“No!” he snapped, “You will remain by my side, and together we will see the death of Ahriman and the return of our home. I will not allow this.”
“You must.”
“Why?”
Father seemed equally unconvinced of her course; his disapproving gaze fixed upon her since Adir had entered the room, demanding to know what had happened to bring the Illithid into their business.
Vala smiled, “Because this is all happening as it should. I can’t explain it, but...when we met, I felt like everything was falling apart. Now I see how it’s all falling into place. The visions, my powers. Ahriman. Everything. We were meant to flee Almraiven, as you were meant to read the Codex. You were meant to ferry me to Arvandor. Somehow...I feel like he planned this.”
“Your ancestor?”
“Yes.”
“Your dead ancestor?”
Vala’s smile became a smirk, and she eyed him critically, “A necromancer who thinks that death is the end? Come now, husband. He’s in Arvandor, and I need you to send me to him. I will return after I’ve given him whatever he wants.”
“What if he wants your death?”
She took his hands; they felt so solid, so coarse, against hers.
“Then he could have left me to die in the Underdark. He invested something in me. Nobody could have advanced their powers as quickly as I had at that age. Nobody. Kimmuriel knew it, just like Qilué knew it. Just like you know it. My powers are my own, but I wouldn’t have had a chance if he hadn’t given me one. I owe him. Enough to hear him out.”
She smiled at him, and saw a flicker of doubt. A chink in his armor.
“I cannot consider this.”
“I need you to trust me.”
Adir frowned, “I do. But this...? And after everything else that just happened?”
“We’re nearly ready. We will be ready.”
She kissed him, uncertainly. He returned it, and the tenseness went out of him.
“I will trust you then, with this. But I will be watching, the entire time. You will consent to a metaphysical tether, that I might draw you back to Toril the moment I deem it necessary.”
“Of course.”
Adir sighed, “Very well. Let me begin making preparations.”
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