With that, his father gathered Taenaran up into his arms once more. Tears welled up in the half-elf's eyes, and this time he didn't fight them. He didn't know whether he could live as his father had predicted, but he had no choice but to try. Perhaps he would one day atone for his weakness and failure.
"Thank you, Va," he whispered into his father's ear before gathering up his sword and backpack. When the moment finally came, father and son walked out of their house together and into the harsh light of the day.
Together for the last time.
Chapter 26
The Year of Wild Magic
(1372 DR)
Marissa's hand ached.
The shackles holding her upright had bitten deep into her skin, tearing the flesh around her wrist. Even after several potions from her recovered backpack, the wound throbbed. She paid it little mind, however. Instead, she felt a rush of emotions wash over her as Taen and Borovazk knelt around a thin circle inscribed into the stone floor, trying to discern some way of activating the portal. Despite her fears to the contrary, the half-elf had managed to rescue her. He wasn't dead, or worse, some undead minion in her former captor's army. Rillifane had heard her prayers and blessed her, guiding Taen to where she hung, imprisoned and despairing. He had come for her, lifted her out of the darkness. Every moment she saw his face, lips pursed and eyes intently staring as he concentrated on solving the riddle of the magic portal, Marissa had to remind herself that this wasn't a dream.
"I see that you are feeling a bit better," Roberc remarked.
The halfling had tired of trying to force the portal to give up its secrets and had made his feelings well known before starting to search the length and breadth of the grim gray walls of the room. He stared at Marissa with a frank, searching gaze.
"I am feeling much better, thank you, Roberc," she responded with a genuine smile.
Marissa no longer found her companion's directness unnerving or threatening, as so many others did. In fact, the druid found a certain rude comfort in Roberc's intense demeanor. It was familiar and solid, like the stones on an oft-traveled path.
"I'm glad," he said in his usual brusque tone, though Marissa could hear the genuine concern that lurked beneath the halfling's gruff exterior. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on the rest of our little tour. Besides, we're counting on you and your staff to give us a hand against the damned hag."
At the mention of the Staff of the Red Tree, Marissa nearly leaped to her feet. "Where-" she exclaimed and cast frantically around the room looking for it. In her relief at being rescued, she had forgotten all about the staff. When she finally located it, lying on a smooth shelf along the wall, the druid wanted to weep.
She walked toward the staff slowly, despite her excitement at finding it. The druid would have run, but a sense of torpor had taken root somewhere deep within her. Marissa hadn't lied to Roberc. She was feeling much better-physically. The scars of her torment, however, went beyond flesh. The hag and her dark priestess had taken something from Marissa. The chill of her captivity had sucked something essential from the marrow of her spirit. Here beneath the citadel, trapped in the cold embrace of the earth, the half-elf felt half alive. She longed for the touch of sunlight and the caress of a spring breeze the way a wounded falcon longs for open sky and the touch of warm air upon its pinions.
When at last she reached the staff, Marissa hesitated before reaching out to touch it. It lay quiescent, silent for the first time since she held it beneath the shadow of the Red Tree. The druid recalled the layers of spells that her captors had woven over the captive artifact. She was no expert in arcane magic, but she knew the ways of the gods, and it seemed to Marissa's senses that the dark priestess had held the foundation for the "house" of spells that they had built. With the half-orc cleric's death, the house simply collapsed.
Or so she hoped.
Reaching out at last to the seemingly inert length of wood, Marissa carefully picked up the staff and cradled it in her hand. The moment her fingers closed around the length of wood, she felt an explosion of power. Light filled the room as waves of arcane energy radiated from the staff. Marissa knew that she had fallen to the ground, buffeted by the power of the staff, yet she felt nothing. The now-familiar voice of the artifact buzzed in her mind, swelling angrily as it searched through her memories, recalling what she had experienced during their absence. At times, she felt as if it clucked angrily at her, the way a mother hen would chide her chicks when they had drawn near something dangerous. She would have laughed at that, but three sets of hands grabbed her and lifted Marissa to her feet.
"Is little witch, all right?" she heard Borovazk's deep voice rumble at her.
She concentrated on the sound, and all at once the voice of the staff fell to a tremulous whisper. When she looked around, once more in control, Marissa saw all of her companions gathered around gazing anxiously upon her.
Taen's eyes were narrowed, his mouth pinched with obvious concern. "We heard you cry out and fall to the ground," he said. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "The staff and I were just getting reacquainted. I'm sorry if I frightened you."
Grasping the staff, Marissa climbed to her feet. The room threatened to spin out of control for just a moment then righted itself. For the first time since her rescue, she noticed the absence of her avian companion and sudden fear for the little creature rushed through her body.
"Where… where is Rusella?" she asked. v
The others all looked at her with the same mask of concern on their faces, but it was Taenaran, at last, who spoke. "We don't know," he said gently. "She flew away when you were taken on the bridge. I wouldn't worry too much; if anyone can find a way out of here, it would be her." He reached out to her and grasped her shoulder gently. "Rusella will probably be waiting for us when we leave this place."
Marissa wasn't as certain, but she offered a prayer for Rusella's safety just the same. If anything happened to her companion, she would never forgive herself. Then, to draw some of the attention away from her, she asked, "How are we coming with the circular inscription?"
Marissa watched the half-elf's face fall into a frown. Taen ran slender fingers over his head before answering.
"Well," he said, "I'm sure that the circle functions as a teleportation device, and I'm reasonably certain that there are no hidden arcane traps upon it. I only wish I knew where it might lead."
Roberc stepped forward, finishing off a draught of wine before speaking. "Marissa, do you remember anyone else besides the half-orc using the portal?" he asked.
She thought about it for a moment, only partially successful in repressing a shudder at the dark memories that would haunt her for the rest of her life. "I… I think so," she answered hesitantly at first then, "yes, I do remember. Most of the time, the hag walked through the doors and back into the citadel, but several times after… longer… sessions, she would use the circle."
"Does little witch know where hag go?" Borovazk asked.
Marissa shook her head. "No, I'm sorry," she said, "all I can remember her saying was that she needed to go back to the cave. If the portal leads there, then perhaps we can use it to surprise her."
"If she's there," Roberc said.
"There is that small detail," Taen commented.
The druid thought some more, trying to recall her last session with the hag. "If I'm remembering correctly, Chaul used the circle during our last session. She might still be wherever that portal leads."
"Little friend speaks truly," Borovazk said, "if evil one not have another way in to the Rashemar."
"It's a better lead than we've had," Roberc growled, "and besides, it beats slogging through this dank place, cutting our way through wave after wave of ghouls and goblins."