Depths of Madness

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Twilight stared into the dark hole. Much of this world was inverted, she mused. It was a sharn's idea of order, curves where buildings should have corners, towers that sloped downward, even upside-down stairs on the underside of ledges. She had thought herself prepared for any shift of paradigm imaginable.

This, though, far exceeded any reasonable anticipation.

Gargan, seeing her hesitation, crawled over the edge, holding the lip, and let go. He didn't fall. Instead, he stood on the underside of the floor, looking down at her past his feet. It was as though Twilight stood on a mirror that reflected a world not her own.

"Come," Gargan said. "Sink to rise."

The implications struck Twilight like a thunder blow. Damned Netherese.

Now she knew why she had felt unsettled going into the dungeon, almost like falling. The gravity was in flux here, so close to the limits of the mythallar's field.

That was why the ceiling of the sewer had been as stained as the floor.

That was why half the architecture was upside down, why all the symbols of Mystra-or whatever the goddess of magic in ancient Netheril had been called-had been inverted.

Now she knew why the sand had not fallen in from the "ceiling" of the cavern, settling instead as though along the bottom of a bowl. Gravity was reversed in Negarath, all pulling down toward the dungeon, and below it…

All that time they thought they had been rising, they had been descending.

Gargan watched her uncertainly, but at last Twilight swung a leg down and pushed off, climbing to her feet on the ceiling of the chamber below. She passed through an invisible barrier that made her stomach go limp before she emerged in another world, one where gravity was opposite.

They stood in a crude tunnel sloping up from where they stood, down from the dungeon. Gone was the fine, if eccentric, carving and stonework of Negarath. The air was musty, and a faint, foul odor wafted through the tunnel. Rough steps led up.

"Gestal should be somewhere up there-or down…"

Twilight could not help feeling a touch disoriented, but she did her best to dismiss it. "Up. Definitely up, if Negarath is upside down, below us." Twilight's head ached.

She noticed Gargan kneeling by the trapdoor, hand out, and narrowed her eyes. "What are you about?"

He drew his hand back and she saw that he had placed a stone in the air. It dipped back toward the dungeon, then up toward them, then merely floated, caught in that space where gravity pulled both ways. At the innocent fascination the goliath showed in the phenomenon, Twilight smiled despite herself. "Come."

Gargan-ever a man of few words-nodded and went with her.

They had not gone ten paces up the tunnel when they heard a scuttling from behind, as of a rock falling to the floor. Something had disturbed Gargan's floating stone.

The goliath was already charging back by the time Twilight had her weapon out and was pursuing him. Though her reflexes might have been the faster, he had keener ears. With the boots from the sharn, she ran as fast as he did. They fell upon their pursuer at almost the same instant.

There it was, five steps from the trapdoor. The shadow yelped and danced back, startled. Gargan's black sword swept aside a hastily raised mace, even as his other hand shot out and shoved its wielder over. Even as the intruder fell, Twilight lunged the intervening four paces-she loved these boots already-and rode it to earth, Betrayal at its throat.

The shadowy figure froze and put its hands up. "Stop! Stop!" she screamed. " 'Tis me! 'Tis me!" Twilight almost drove her blade in anyway, but Gargan caught her arm and saved Billfora Brightbrows's life.

"Slip?" Twilight asked, brow furrowing. "What are you doing here? Didn't they capture you? How did you escape?"

The halfling stared with terror-stricken eyes. "I–I-I…" she tried, but couldn't speak with the elf pressing her lungs, and a blade lying a thumb's breadth from her jugular.

Twilight straddled the little woman and bent low, keeping the blade still and putting her free hand on the halfling's shoulder. It would take hardly any force to push it through Slip's unarmored neck-in case it wasn't really the halfling, but a trick.

"Speak," she commanded, and Slip did.

"I–I got away," she said. "When those bee-things came, one o' them knocked me cold. When I woke up, I was under a toadstool. It must have broke my fall, and I was…"

"You weren't a prisoner?" Twilight asked, her heart suddenly racing. That would mean only Davoren and Liet were Ruuk's prisoners, and that meant…

"Uh," said Slip. Twilight heard her only distantly. "No. No, I wasn't."

"Did you see anyone else?" Twilight asked. "Where's Liet?"

Slip shook her head. "I didn't…"

"Why so quick?" Gargan asked, his voice dark. There was no pain in his words, only suspicion about the one who had been his friend.

It struck her that the earring was not translating his words to Elvish, as it must have for Taslin. Somehow, Twilight had become less than an elf-but she accepted that.

Slip blinked at the goliath and she smiled widely. "Eh?"

"Why are you here?" Twilight asked, clarifying. "How could you get here so fast? The sharn teleported us. What of you?"

The joy went out of Slip's face. "Well, I… I…" Gargan was staring at her, and her lip shook. "I've been coming this way for a day. I didn't… know where you were, so I came this way, because…" She blinked. "I'm afraid of bees."

No matter how heavy the moment or how deathly serious the look that had passed between Slip and Gargan, Twilight could not help but grin at that.

"Very well," she said, and got off the halfling. "My apologies. We reacted as we had to." She sheathed Betrayal and started up the stairs.

The halfling got to her knees, rubbing her temples. "Ah, r-right," Slip said, smiling blankly as though she had tried her best and largely failed. "Uh…"

"Come along," Twilight said. "We've a demon priest to slay."

"Aye, that," Slip said. She hurried to catch up with the shadowdancer-no mean feat with her short legs, and hugged Twilight about the waist, stopping her.

By reflex, Twilight put an arm up to drape it around the halfling's shoulders, as one might show affection to a child, but she stopped herself.

"Just…" Slip said, shifting awkwardly.

"Yes?"

The halfling's voice wavered and her eyes were very round as they fell upon the pouch of food that hung from Twilight's belt. Her stomach growled as though she hadn't eaten for days-which, of course, was the case. "Can… can I have something to eat?"

Smiling, Twilight extended the sack to Slip, who fell to it like a ravenous beast.

Gargan watched, doubtless thinking himself hidden in the darkness, but if Twilight had learned one thing in half a century in service to a god of deception, it was to watch the shadows carefully. She had never seen Gargan's face so dark and grim.

The air became even heavier and warmer as the tunnel led the three upward, and the smell from above grew in intensity. It was salty and sickly sweet, a combination of rotting vegetation and the acrid scent of blood. In this new, unknown place, Twilight forbade torches. She could lead the others with her darksight. From where she crept along, Slip made a face that was barely visible, reflecting her own feelings on the matter. Gargan hardly seemed to notice.

The tunnel was largely natural, but for a few spots along walls and floor that had been crudely carved as though by stone axes and picks. Their path rose to the edge of a rough, circular chamber from which led yet more passages. In the chamber, they found light-luminescence from green and blue fungi that grew from the walls, ceiling, and floor. Stalagmites jabbed out of the ground to loom above even the seven-foot Gargan's head. They twisted and curled in a way that reminded Twilight of Negarath.

They saw none of the lizards, but they could smell them. Husky and gangrenous, their odor lurked over hollows in which foulness lay pooled.

"Two sewers." Twilight wrinkled her nose. " 'Tis Westgate all over again."

"Westgate?" Slip asked, and Twilight smiled ruefully.

"A long story," she said. "One day, perhaps."

"You have lots of stories," Slip said excitedly. "I enjoy collecting stories-'tis like collecting lives, aye?"

A trifle unsettled by that comment, Twilight looked at Gargan, whose disapproving expression gave her all the excuse she needed. "We should be silent," she said. "One never knows what may be awaiting."

Slip, suitably chastened but undiminished, grinned innocently.

The next chamber they entered, following Twilight's direction, was not as vacant as the first. Nearly a dozen of the man-lizards occupied the cavern, milling about as if waiting for something. Eight devoured something rather bloody, while the other four stood apart, spears clenched in distorted claws, and scanned the shadows with bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, very well," Slip whispered. "I told you we should've taken the other path."

Twilight frowned. "We follow my lead," she said. Until she figured out who to trust, she would trust no one but herself-and that only so far. Even with the goliath's superior tracking abilities, and Slip's magic. Neither objected verbally to her words, so Twilight left it at that.

That still left the problem of the lizards blocking their way.

"You have spells that will assist us? Invisibility?"

The halfling shook her head. "I can hide us only to the walking dead," she said. "The best I can do is darkness." She grinned. "I fight better without my eyes, a'times!"

Twilight hardly wondered why Slip might know such a spell-likely, it had something to do with her larcenous tendencies. Slow tendays at the house of Yondalla, she imagined with a smile, when the tithes were not meeting expectations.

"Do we circle back, or sneak round?" Slip asked. "Either would take time."

The goliath slowly shook his head. "Attack," he said. Then he added something in the goliath tongue that Twilight understood with the earring. "Ambush is not dishonorable."

The shadowdancer was starting to like the gray-skinned warrior, with the intricate red designs that ran across his muscular chest. If only she could be sure he wasn't a traitor…

Her mind raced. They did not want to spoil their surprise, but neither could they delay. Slip's return brought limited healing magic, but without more food, they would weaken. Also, the longer they delayed, the longer Gestal had to learn of their coming. Their strength would wane, while his would remain high. They had to kill him as soon as they could.

"We'll go around," Twilight said. "That's the only…"

Then there came-whether real or imagined-an anguished wail that froze her heart in her chest. A woman's cry. She made out the color of the flesh the lizards were eating.

"No," she said. "No…"

Gargan was shaking her shoulder, Slip tugging at her blouse. Twilight looked at them, sharp as a knife.

"We kill them," Twilight said. "Surprise and speed. Now."

"You can't be-"

"Now!" And Twilight ran toward the lizards.

"What? What are you doing?" Slip asked Gargan behind her back. "Put me d-" Then her voice fell to chanting.

Twilight didn't notice. She just ran toward the lizards, Betrayal leading.

S'zgul perceived the darkness before it fell upon them, and that only startled her more.

The black swooped in as though hurled, rather than suddenly bathing them. She watched as the darkness swallowed her fellows, shrouding torches and stealing even her fiendish sight. Her allies recoiled instinctively from the wave of black, but it did not harm them.

The darkness did not, but what came within the darkness did.

A warrior screeched as a projectile struck his back and a blade jabbed into his stomach, ripping a hole for entrails to leak out. He would have clawed at his attacker, but the blade slashed across his throat, ending his roar in a gurgle.

S'zgul bellowed in consternation, demanding calm and reason, but to no avail. The others roared and scrambled, either groping for the edge of the darkness or slashing at random with claw and rusty blade. Two fell to their own companions, and thrice as many still hacked at one another and squealed.

The survivors tried to escape, but the darkness seemed endless. Finally, one broke free of the dark, only to find death at the end of two swords-one black and one gray. As he belched and flopped to the ground, his killers plunged into the globe of darkness.

With an oath to her father, the great Demogorgon, S'zgul snarled out a few syllables. With the power of the demon prince, the darkness vanished-

— just in time for her to duck the acid-smeared sword streaking for her neck.

Her bodyguard's scaly head flew into the air, and another warrior jerked and spat as a rapier slit his heart in two. The giant and elf spun into the midst of the creatures. The gigantic black sword slashed in a great arc, beheading one lizard and disarming another-the hard way. If the cavern had been disorderly before, it exploded in lethal madness when the darkness vanished.

The priestess watched her servants fall, one after another, fast as flowing water. The speed with which the three moved amazed her, especially the white elf: the female lunged and sprang like a tiger, wounding and dispatching with unflinching brutality. What was more, the shadows swirled around her and danced about her crackling, burning blade as though to lap at the blood she spilled. A pair of warriors jabbed at her from either side with obsidian spears, but she twisted around one thrust, letting it stab into the foe at her back, and rolled between the other's legs. She stabbed up and her blade went in along a weak spot beneath the spine and burst out beside the warrior's throat.

S'zgul, who had fought countless hulking males and fierce females for leadership in the tribe, and mated with as many demons as she had slaughtered, was intimidated.

So she turned from the furious shadowdancer toward the weakest foe she could see-a half-sized creature, tiny and delicate. S'zgul could break the half-female in two with her talons. She hardly needed the three-headed, barbed flail spinning in her hand.

The halfling didn't see her coming-so intent was she on slitting a warrior's throat. S'zgul hissed like a desert cobra, lashed the tiny creature about the legs, and yanked her down.

"Gark katulu!" she growled at the halfling.

The little creature rolled over, gazing up at S'zgul in confusion, fear, and…

S'zgul hesitated, startled. "Daltyrex-naka!"

Then the halfling smiled-a hideous expression to the lizard priestess-and showed her empty hands. A knife slid out of her sleeve and she opened S'zgul's throat in a flash of pain.

The priestess reeled until a dusty gray rapier split open her back, carved her heart, and brought only painful blackness and the hiss of her father, master, and lover.

Twilight took a moment to wipe the blood off Betrayal with the aid of the fiendish lizard's half cape. It marked the creature as a spellcaster, likely, or a shaman. Probably the one who had dispelled Slip's conjured darkness, though it didn't really matter. All the lizards were dead, and they had killed them before an alarm could be raised. Good enough.

It was good to fight, as well. Having to evade band after band of these lizards had caused trepidation and nervousness, and nothing wiped away such feelings like a good, bloody slaughter. Twilight's muscles felt loose and her blood was pumping-hunger was a thing of the past.

Had she been thinking rationally, she might have been disturbed that dealing death made her feel alive.

"You're fast," she said to the halfling, still panting in glorious abandon.

"All in the wrist-where the blood is." Slip held out her hand. Her little dagger had disappeared.

"That snake said something to you," Twilight said as she helped the tiny woman up. "I didn't hear. What was it?"

The halfling blinked, gazing up at her with those blissful brown eyes, and shrugged. "I don't speak fiend."

Gargan's eye twitched.

Twilight was no longer listening. She looked to the center of the chamber, where the lizards had been feeding. There, lying on the floor, was their meal. She recognized the pale golden flesh, the ravaged hair. Even the face, with its bugging eyes, one still present, the other a bloody hole.

"Gods," Slip said. "Is that…"

"Not possible," Twilight said. "Not-"

Then the emerald eye opened and it lunged for her, gasping and moaning. Two bloody stumps where hands should have been scrabbled at her chest.

"Taslin?" Slip gasped.

Twilight hit the forehead with Betrayal's hilt. The body fell back to the ground, writhing, and she hit again. And again. And again, beating that head into paste. Dark blood splattered the floor, and she could feel her teeth go through her tongue, but she didn't care. She pounded until those limbs stopped battering her.

When the animate priestess was finally stilled once more, Twilight could stand. She'd watched Taslin die, and she'd killed her again. She tried not to think about the implications of her wrists, severed as though by a knife and not by any lizard's claw.

"We keep moving," said Twilight.

The others were too busy staring to argue.