Disclaimer: I own nothing, characters or concepts, that isn't mine by right of orignial characters/ideas.
A/N: This is fair warning: I'm not going to be able toupdate this very quickly, but I do want to see what people think of it...so tell me. Love it or hate it, leave me a review: constructive criticism is welcomed; how else will I know what I'm doing right or wrong?
And as always: Enjoy.
Kelia hugged her upper arms, teeth chattering so loudly she was worried she would attract unwanted attention. She couldn't even see her breath lift up from her mouth anymore, even her thick cloak scant protection from the bitter cold. It was, she mused with a slight up-turning of her numbed lips at the irony, as cold as hell. Cania, one of the planes making up Baator, the Nine Hells, to be precise. She couldn't believe she was still here; if things had gone according to plan, she would be back home in Waterdeep by now…or any other place on the Sword Coast, for that matter. She could feel the tears well up in her gray eyes, mostly because they threatened to freeze. Shaking her head from side to side, she banished them, shivering as she burrowed deeper into her cloak. Tears were a luxury she couldn't afford to indulge in, not now. Not after….
Don't think of it, she commanded herself as she turned her gaze out across the frozen wastes of Cania, the small nook she'd found in the side of a cliff providing her with protection from the bitter wind. It was still cold enough to hurt, deep down in her bones, but she couldn't think clearly enough to figure out a way out of this.
She snorted to herself, glancing out over the small whirlwinds of snow that rose and fell with the fickle winds. Who wouldn't be at a loss, after…? No, I'm not going to think of it, she repeated as she lowered her head into her hands. Betrayal: worse than murder. Murder: far better than what had occurred back there. She didn't think that there was anything worse in all the multiverse than what she had been forced to witness. And that's saying something; even the Hells and the Abyss are included in the multiverse…Perhaps she was delirious with the shock of everything; she didn't care.
The cold was deceptive: now painful, jolting as lightning, agonizing; now lulling, numbing, every sense, every thought. Despite her resolve not to think, Kelia found her glazed gaze traveling over the drop-off of the plains, towards the City of Lost Souls. Even as cold and as tired and as flat-out dead as she felt, her throat still close up. It had happened there….Despite her best efforts to keep her mind off the painful events of – last week? last month? yesterday? She had no good way of knowing how much time had passed – Kelia's mind wandered back to that time and place. She could see all four of them as clearly as if she stood above them, watching the events unfold once more….
She had always tagged along at the rear of their little group, and this time was no different; even the kobold bard Deekin scurried in front of her. She liked it that way; she could take her time to size up a situation before running blindly into it like Valen or Caylassa…She rolled her eyes even as she grinned; she would never be able to deal the damage they did, anyways. At least staying to the back of the group gave her time to prepare herself for battle…
Kelia cast an appreciative gaze towards the leader of their little group, striding at the front, eyes fixed on their goal; the portal to the Reaper's Realm. Caylassa's golden hair seemed to glow, even in the scant light of the Hells, not the tawdry yellow of a true blond, but like unto the precious metal itself, a gleam all its own. Though Caylassa's back was to her, Kelia could still imagine the tall female's warm light brown eyes, the color of good whiskey, the slight smile that curved her full lips, the proud arch of her nose and sweep of her cheeks, the stubborn set of her chin. A beautiful face, strong beauty. Her silvery and bronze armor was splattered with blood both old and recent; there had been no time these frenzied days to clean up after a battle. It was fight and run, run and fight, on and on. They had been desperate to escape the Hells, so desperate that they hadn't taken the time to camp each night as they usually did. There was a perpetual light of distraction in Caylassa's eyes, her slim pale hand resting on the hilt of her sword even as she slept.
Not that any of her other companions were less agitated in this plane. Though they looked to Caylassa as their leader – Deekin and Valen and her – they were used to acting on their own, scouting out potential paths and opponents before the full group moved anywhere. They all were preoccupied with whatever they had found in the day's scouting to be too interested in conversation at night.
But now, so close to their goal of escaping from the Hells, Caylassa drew to a halt and turned to face all of them, a gleam in her eyes as she looked them over. Her voice was low and melodious, "Well…we've seem to come to the end of our adventures in the Hells." She paused, head half-canted, listening with a slight smile to the comments of Deekin and Valen's interjections. When the excitable kobold was through, she continued with a toss of her glorious hair, "There are a few things I'd like to finish up before we face Mephistopheles. Business." Her smile seemed a bit…stretched – not forced, just…different – as she turned to Deekin. "Ixthyria the Scalesinger," her voice dropped to a purr, her eyes flashing with some unnamed emotion.
"Deekin's True Name! Whats it you want me to be doing, boss?" the kobold bard was almost jumping up and down in eagerness. But Kelia had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach…she didn't like the look in Caylassa's eyes. Without even knowing why, she started to slip away from the cluster, reaching behind her to touch the cold, ice coated stones of the cliff face in reassurance. It would be fine. Caylassa was always helping people; giving money to the poor, donating to various temples, taking no reward for her actions…she wouldn't abuse the power of a True Name…would she?
"Surrender your soul to me, little one!"
Kelia quite literally felt her heart stop in her chest. The gleam in Caylassa's eyes…she knew it now. It was triumph. Fierce triumph. The same look she got in her eyes whenever the battle swung in her direct favor and became not a battle but a massacre, when she could kill with ease. And oh, how she had enjoyed such massacres! Kelia had been blind not to see it: blind, to travel with the tall female for two full years and not see how she loved killing when the enemy was exponentially weaker than she was. Panic rose in her chest, and she thought no further than the next moment. If that was what Caylassa did to Deekin, who had always been loyal to her, never questioning her wishes, what would she do to her?
She thought no further; there was no time to. Her body was already Shifting, not a thought needed to change her form, not after so much practice – her bones cracking, flesh squelching, bolts of pain shooting up her limbs at the speed of it all. She concentrated all her thoughts on completing the Shift as fast as possible, forcing her body into the smallest rat she could manage, and scurried for a crack in the ice wall. Only when she was safe with ice brushing her fur on three sides did she look back at the scene.
The eyes of a rat weren't good, not compared to anything else she'd been. But even she could see the pile of gray dust that had once been Deekin, dark against the blinding snow. She was grateful that rats couldn't cry. But, oh gods, could rats hear. She could hear every word, every inflection of tone, every soft, cruel laugh and every growl. She had to guess at facial expressions, but now that all had been revealed…she could guess. She could guess at the shining light in Caylassa's eyes, equal parts evil – she hated to think of her Caylassa as evil, but all the evidence pointed that way now – and lust. She could imagine the hatred in Valen's lightning blue eyes.
She heard every blithe word as Caylassa bound Valen's love to her, forced him to love her for eternity.
"So be it... my love. Your mastery over me knows no bounds. Should I ever free myself, however...I will kill you. Trust me on that," Valen's words were once more distrustful and hate-filled, just as they had been when Caylassa – and Kelia, for that matter – arrived at the Seer's camp in the Underdark. Those were the days, weren't they? The thoughts seemed loud for her little rat mind. The days of seeking out potential allies and weakening enemies…
Caylassa laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "You will never get free, Valen. Never. Now, where is Kelia…?" There was a pause, then she shouted, "Salazogan the Dragonspeaker! Come out!"
Kelia closed her eyes, trembling like the rat she now was, waiting for a tug on her soul as her True Name took effect…but there was nothing. Nothing. She opened first one eye, then the other, staring out at the white blur. "Salazogan!" Caylassa repeated, puzzlement in her tone. Then there was the crunch of snow underfoot as she turned on her heel, muttering, "Little snit must be out of hearing by now…no matter. The Hells will take care of that Shifter. Come, Valen; I have a throne to win."