One of the guards grunted and showed its nasty yellow teeth, then motioned toward the back of the cave.
The three accompanying soldiers took out torches and set them ablaze. On the travelers went, winding their way through a myriad of spectacular natural designs. At first, Le'lorinel thought running water was all around them, cascading down the sides of the tunnel in wide, graceful waterfalls, but as the elf looked closer the truth became evident. It was not water, but formations of rock left behind by the old river, limestone solidified into waterfall images still slick from the dripping that came with every rainfall.
Great tunnels ran off the main one, many winding up, spiraling into the mound, others branching off at this level often forming huge, boulder-filled chambers. So many shapes assaulted the elf's outdoor sensibilities! Images of animals and weapons, of lovers entwined and great forests, of whatever Le'lorinel's imagination allowed the elf to see! Le'lorinel was a creature of the forest, a creature of the moon, and had never before been underground. For the very first time, the elf gained some appreciation of the dwarves and the halflings, the gnomes and any other race that chose the subterranean world over that of the open sky.
No, not any other race, Le'lorinel promptly reminded. Not the drow, those ebon-skinned devils of lightless chambers. Certainly there was beauty here, but beauty only reflected in the light of the torches.
The party moved on in near silence, save the crackle of the torches, for the floor was of clay, smooth and soft. They descended for some time along the main chamber, the primary riverbed of ages past, and moved beyond several other guard stations, sometimes manned by half-ogres, once by a pair of true ogres, and once by normal-looking men—pirates, judging from their dress and from the company they kept.
Le'lorinel took it all in halfheartedly, too concerned with the forthcoming meeting, the all-important plea that had to be made to Sheila Kree. With Kree's assistance, Le'lorinel might find the end of a long, heart-wrenching road. Without Kree's favor, Le'lorinel would likely wind up dead and discarded in one of these side-passages.
And worse, to the elf's sensibilities, Drizzt Do'Urden would remain very much alive.
Genny turned aside suddenly, down a narrow side passage. Both Genny and Le'lorinel had to drop to all fours to continue on, crawling under a low overhang of solid stone. Their three larger companions had to get right down on their bellies and crawl. On the other side was a wide chamber of startling design, widening up and out to the left, its stalactite ceiling many, many feet above.
Genny didn't even look at it, though, but rather focused on a small hole in the floor, moving to a ladder that had been set into one wall. Down she went, followed by a guard, then Le'lorinel, then the other two.
Far down, perhaps a hundred steps, they came to another corridor and set off, arriving soon after in another cave. It was a huge cavern, open to the southwest, to the rocky bay and the sea beyond. Water poured in from many openings in the walls and ceiling, the river emptying into the sea.
In the cave sat Bloody Keel, moored to the western wall, with sailors crawling all over her repairing the rigging and hull damage.
“Now that you've seen this much, you would be wise to pray to whatever god you know that Sheila Kree accepts you,” Genny whispered to the elf. “There are but two ways out of here: as a friend or as a corpse.”
Looking at the ruffian crew scrambling all about the ship, cutthroats all, Le'lorinel didn't doubt those words for a moment.
Genny led the way out of another exit, this one winding back up into the mountain from the back of the docking cave. The passages smelled of smoke, and were torch-lit all the way, so the escorting guards doused their own torches and put them away, Higher and higher they climbed into the mountain, passing storerooms and barracks, crossing through an area that seemed to Le'lorinel to be reserved for the pirates, and another horribly smelly place that housed the ogre clan.
More than a few hungry gazes came the elf's way as they passed by the ravenous ogres, but none came close enough to even prod Le'lorinel. Their respect for Kree was tremendous, the elf recognized, simply from the fact that they weren't causing any trouble. Le'lorinel had enough experience with ogres to know that they were usually unruly and more than ready to make a meal of any smaller humanoid they encountered.
They came to the highest levels of the mound soon after, pausing in an open chamber lined by several doors. Genny motioned for the other four to wait there while she went to the center door of the room, knocked, and disappeared through the door. She returned a short while later.
“Come,” she bade Le'lorinel.
When the three brutish guards moved to escort the elf, Genny held them at bay with an upraised hand. “Go get some food,” the brown-haired woman instructed the half-ogres.
Le'lorinel glanced at the departing half-ogres curiously, not sure whether this signaled that Sheila Kree trusted Genny's word, or whether the pirate was simply too confident or too well-protected to care.
Le'lorinel figured it must be the latter.
Sheila Kree, dressed in nothing more than light breeches and a thin, sleeveless shirt, was standing in the room within, amongst piles of furs, staring out her window at the wide waters. She turned when Genny announced Le'lorinel, her smile bright on her freckled face, her green eyes shining under the crown of her tied-up red hair.
“I've been told ye're fearing for me life, elf,” the pirate leader remarked. “I'm touched by yer concern.”
Le'lorinel stared at her curiously.
“Ye’ve come to warn me of a dark elf, so says Genny,” the pirate clarified.
“I have come to slay a dark elf,” Le'lorinel corrected. “That my actions will benefit you as well is merely a fortunate coincidence.”
Sheila Kree gave a great belly laugh and strode over to stand right in front of the elf, towering over Le’lorinel. The pirate's eyes roamed up and down Le'lorinel's slender, even delicate form. “Fortunate for yerself, or for me?”
“For both, I would guess,” Le'lorinel answered.
“Ye must hate this drow more than a bit to have come here,” Sheila Kree remarked.
“More than you can possibly imagine.”
“And would ye tell me why?”
“It is a long tale,” Le'lorinel said.
“Well, since winter's fast coming and Bloody Keel's, still in dock, it's looking like I've got the time,” Sheila Kree said with another laugh. She swept her arm out toward some piles of furs, motioning for Le'lorinel to join her.
They talked for the rest of the afternoon, with Le'lorinel giving an honest, if slanted account of the many errors of Drizzt Do'Urden. Sheila Kree listened intently, as did Genny, as did a third woman, Bellany, who came in soon after the elf had begun the tale. All three seemed more than a little amused and interested, and as time went on, Le'lorinel relaxed even more.
When the tale was done, both Bellany and Genny applauded, but just for a moment stopping and looking to Sheila for a cue.
“A good tale,” the pirate leader decided. “And I find that I believe yer words. Ye'll understand that we've much to check on afore we let ye have a free run.”
“Of course,” Le'lorinel agreed, giving a slight bow.
“Ye give over yer weapons, and we'll set ye in a room,” Sheila explained. “I've no work for ye right now, so ye can get yer rest from the long road.” As she finished, the pirate held out her hand.
Le'lorinel considered things for just a moment, then decided that Kree and her associates—especially the one named Bellany, who Le'lorinel had concluded was a spellcaster, likely a sorceress—in truth made surrendering the weapons nothing more than symbolic. With a smile at the fiery pirate, the elf turned over the dagger and sword.