The enormous creature moved forward as fast as a lizard a thousandth its size. She shattered the six frozen drow on her way through, and Abdel could only jump aside and get out of her way.
The sound of crossbows firing echoed through the cavern, and Abdel thought he saw at least one thin quarrel skip off one of Adalon's shining silver scales, but the dragon didn't flinch in the slightest. He heard a number of swords drawn, and that reminded him to draw his own. Seeing the coal black color of his skin as it passed across his face made him pause.
Adalon picked up one drow warrior—a man in glittering chain mail—and squeezed so hard his eyes popped out before he died a bloody, bone-shattered wreck. Adalon tossed him to the floor of the cavern in a splatter of gore that made one of his companions leap aside.
Something like a fireball or some other kind of obviously magical fire exploded near the dragon's head, but she just brushed it off and flicked aside the drow who'd cast the spell. The impotent mage hit the wall of the cavern hard enough to crack his head like an egg.
Abdel looked up into the crowd of quickly scattering drow and saw one of them turn from the dragon. The drow made eye contact with Abdel, and Abdel turned toward the passing foot of the great dragon to make as if to slash at it as it passed him. Something told Abdel he wouldn't have cut through the thing's silver scales anyway, but the illusion seemed to work. When he glanced back at the drow, he was nodding as he turned to run.
A couple of drow warriors made to run with him, but he pushed them back at the dragon and dived behind an outcropping of rock. The dragon's freezing breath descended on the drow warriors in roiling waves of glittering frost and froze them both in mid scream. They were made so cold that when the dragon whipped her tail around it shattered them on contact as if they were made of blown glass.
Go! A voice boomed in Abdel's head—it was Adalon's voice. The three of you must go — you do not have that much time. Find that drow, the leader, and go back to Ust Natha with him. Go!
Jaheira grabbed Abdel by the arm, and though he knew it was her, he was still startled by her appearance. She was a dark elf in every way now, as was he, as was Imoen.
"We were the advance party," Abdel said, assuming that if it didn't work, he'd probably still be able to kill the lone drow.
The dark elf nodded and sighed, sitting down on the rough stone floor of the dark cavern like a half-empty sack of grain. Abdel looked over at Jaheira, who was looking back at him with barely disguised wonder. He knew he'd never have the heart to tell her the ruse was a wild stab in the dark.
The drow folded his legs into a position that looked painful to Abdel. A sigh escaped the dark elf's lips—more a slow, steady exhale. His eyes were closed, and it was obvious that he was not only trying to calm himself, but succeeding.
"Who's in charge?" the dark elf asked, opening his eyes and looking directly at Jaheira.
The druid glanced at Abdel, and the drow followed her gaze. His brow wrinkled, and he seemed confused. Abdel was about to claim leadership of the party but realized the drow was finding that unusual for some reason. Abdel looked at Imoen and tilted his head. They'd known each other long enough, and Abdel knew she had a dramatic streak to her that would pick up on what was passing between them and their reluctant new friend.
"I am," Imoen said, her voice regal in her new skin.
The drow nodded and said, "I am Solausein, second to Phaere."
Imoen had no idea how to respond, so she just nodded.
"I was sent to kill the dragon," Solausein said.
Imoen glanced at Abdel, then said, "We were sent to offer it one more bargain."
Abdel couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. Imoen could really think on her feet.
"Well," the drow said, "with all due respect, it seems Phaere assumed you would fail."
"Did she assume you would too?" Imoen said with a tilt of one eyebrow.
The drow looked up at her sharply but quickly looked away. His legs unfolded, and he stood in a single fluid motion. Abdel had to work hard to keep from drawing his sword. Solausein didn't attack, though. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground, and he turned away from them.
"We should return to Ust Natha," he said, not looking at them.
Imoen smirked at Abdel and said to the drow's back, "You take point."
"All this for a diversionary tactic," Phaere said, staring up at the tall archway of the completed gate. "I will say one thing for you humans, you do think big."
Bodhi regarded her coldly and said, "I haven't been human for a long time, young matron."
Phaere turned to the vampire and smiled, letting her eyes slowly crawl up Bodhi's tight, leather-clad body.
"I stand corrected," she said.
Bodhi let the drow woman look at her. The vampire turned her attention to the gate. It was huge—easily big enough to march an army through. Now it was just a plain stone archway, but it still gave off a feeling of power, of magical energy Bodhi could feel from a distance. When it was activated by the dozen drow mages standing by, it would open an enchanted pathway through space and time onto the surface, and into a place Bodhi could never have walked into, let alone a drow strike regiment.
"And it will work," Bodhi said, making sure it sounded more like a warning than a question.
Phaere was still staring at Bodhi when she said, "It will work." The drow turned away finally and shouted a name.
Bodhi's sensitive ears picked up the hissing whispers of the dozen mages, and something told her to turn away from the gate. There was a flash of light that would have been painful to her dark-accustomed eyes. Phaere was holding a hand over her own eyes. When Bodhi turned back to the gate, it was like looking at a rippling pool that was somehow standing perpendicular to the ground. Where she'd been able to see the rounded roofs and tower tops of the drow city of Ust Natha through the archway, now there was only a blue-violet shimmering. There was an audible hum.
"You said you wanted to see it work," Phaere said.
Bodhi smiled at her. "And your army is prepared," the vampire said, again more a warning than a question.
"As much of an army as we'll require, yes," Phaere replied. "This elf city of yours is more like a village. My distant cousins—" and she said the word «cousins» with no small amount of contempt—"have mostly fled to their precious Evermeet. It shouldn't be too difficult to overwhelm them. It's not something they're expecting after all. We don't send armies to the surface. Ever."
"Indeed," Bodhi said, still studying the wall of magic in front of her. "That is precisely what we're counting on. They need to be surprised and. . occupied, so we can do what we need to do."
"I won't bother asking exactly what that might be," Phaere said, "and I don't really care after all, do I? If I get the mythal, you can have your way with Suldanessellar."
Bodhi nodded and said, "You'll have your mythal."
The drow was looking for the elves' magical engine—called a mythal. Bodhi didn't understand exactly what a mythal was. All she needed to know was that Phaere wanted one badly enough that she'd lead a regiment of drow warriors into the forest of Tethir to get one. The fact that Suldanessellar had no mythal and Irenicus had no intention of getting one for her was something Phaere would have to find out the hard way. By the time she did, Irenicus would be done with whatever it was he needed to do, and they'd be long gone, leaving the elves and drow to work out the rest on their own—leaving them to kill each other.