Approaching Nacreous

Two more zombies are handily dispatched with. The third explodes into a pillar of flame as Malachite shoves his sword into its belly.

"An exploding zombie?" he asks disbelievingly, as he wipes soot from his burned face.

"Must be a surprise from Soder," says Mara with a frown. She pulls back the hair from her face. "I think we should return the favor."

As the windwalking group closes on Nacreous, Stone Bear sees other spirits as well. Near Nolin there is the image of a man being horribly tortured along with his familiar, a small rat wearing once-jaunty clothing. "It's good old Dread Night Snos!" exclaims Nolin when Stone Bear describes the vision. "He was the first member of Imbindarla's Brotherhood of night that we ever fought. His real name was Nostradis Ghend, which was an anagram for Dread Night's Son. Arcade got it wrong when deciphering it." He smirks for a minute. "But it's okay. Ghend had a rat familiar who he liked to dress up in little clothing. Arcade stabbed it, shouting 'Thus perishes all evil!', and Ghend fell over dead from the shock. Now it looks like he's in hell." A grimace passes over his face. "He probably deserves it."

"Someone else," adds Stone Bear. "A man in dark purple robes. Greasy black hair, beaky nose, innards pulled out, skin bubbling."

"Snadek Bearsfroth," clarifies Velendo. "He tried to conquer our kingdom by creating a fake plague rumor of ebon magerot, a horrible uncurable disease that only infects magic items and anyone who can use magic. While all the wizards and clerics fled the country, he tried to open up a shadow-gate under the capitol. Almost succeeded, too."

"Oh," says Agar, quickly doing the work in his head. "His name was an anagram, too."

Nolin snorts. "Yeah. They didn't get out much."

"There's also..." Stone Bear swallows drily. "I'm seeing the images of some of my ancestors, and dead friends from my village. There's the man who built my family hut, and elderly neighbors, and our old shaman." His voice turns cold. "They're all being tortured horribly by unseen assailants. Why? How? They weren't bad people."

"Imbindarla is some sort of spiritual funnel," concludes Nolin. "The Ivory King is trying to absorb Her energy, and it's somehow affecting the spirits."

I can feel a pull, says Stone Bear's animal spirit Bear. I am hanging on to you with both claws, as if you were a tasty piece of fish. I will not leave you.

Well, that's good, responds the shaman. "We'll have to chance it," he says aloud. "Elder tells me that the huge cavern is right ahead."

It is, and the chilled group huddles at the edge of the ledge, looking out onto an inky abyss and trying to breathe the cold and befouled air. Agar and Velendo study the void carefully, each looking worried. "The entire cavern is alive with some sort of magic," says Velendo long-sufferingly. "I don't know what."

"Agar, let me look through your eyes." Stone Bear casts chain of eyes and lightly touches Agar on the forehead. "Don't squint."

"Oh, sorry."

"As far as I can tell the whole thing is filled with that magic, a blue-green tangle of magical threads which is a mixture of weak divination and evocation that I don't recognize. I think it's the fringe edge of a spell," says Stone Bear.

"The cavern is more than three miles wide," says Agar as he finishes a divination spell of his own. "Whatever the divination, it isn't one that reports back. Those usually have short little darting edges. This is one where the divination magic probably triggers the evocation."

"Charming. Is there anything we can do about it?" Malachite crosses his arms.

Agar stares into Stone Bear's eye sockets, and isn't comforted by the lack of a shared glance. "I don't think so? We can't dispel it until we see its source, and the spell weave is incredibly complicated. I certainly couldn't cast a spell like this."

"Then we shouldn't worry too much about it. We'll just have to stay aware. Where is the city of the ghouls compared to where we are?"

"Nacreous is halfway up the wall on the far side. We don't know where the King will be, although he'll probably be eating the body of Imbindarla." The group discusses myriad contingency plans and casts their remaining preparatory spells. More than twenty minutes pass as they stand there on the edge of the cliff, dreading to go on but knowing that they have no real other choice.

"Does anyone else hear that?" asks Stone Bear.

"What?" asks Galthia.

"The sound of people drowning and crying for help down below us."

Galthia raises his pale eyebrows. "Noooooooo."

"Ah. It's the spirits."

I'm tired of caverns. I want the sun again, Mara's warhorse Luminor snorts to her over their empathic link.

It will all be decided in a few minutes, reassures Mara. This is it. And to get the group moving she dissolves into mist intending to step off the ledge.

"Mara!" shouts a horrified Velendo. "Stop!"

Her frown is intense. "We go, or I'll go."

"Okay. You're right." Velendo turns. "Let's send out best spotter. Galthia, go check it out." The monk floats out into the edge of the massive spell. . . and nothing happens.

"Oh, for crying out loud," says Velendo. With laboured breath he casts filter to help everyone breathe, Agar casts a planar protection spell to help stave off negative energy, and they soar off the ledge and into the giant cavern.

They separate as they sail over the black emptiness, different members of the group moving at different heights as they navigate the cavern on their own hurricane winds. As they move closer it's almost as if they're flying into a high wind, not because of actual wind resistance but because of the negative energy which is buffetting them. If it weren't for Agar's spell, they'd be stripped of life energy in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you, Agar," murmurs Nolin, and he continues to sub-vocalize his inspiring song.

The people near the floor are zooming around dark water that is now cloudy blood. "Proty, that's not something you want to drink." Proty gurgles acknowledgement into Agar's mind, and the alienist smiles to himself.

"Look at that," remarks Galthia. Far to the left is the largest stalactite anyone has ever laid eyes on. It is a huge triangular chunk of ceiling that hangs down like a swollen blister hundreds of feet long. There are no lights in it, but it must have been inhabited once upon a time because it is riddled with holes like a hive or an anthill. It is visible because it reflects greenish-yellow corpselight from the now-visible city of Nacreous in the distance.

Agar notices something disturbing and speaks out over the mindlink. "Remember that spell? The magic is accruing on our skins, and..." Even as he speaks he begins to glow with visible light. Everyone around him, wherever they are, begins to flicker with a similar glow.

"Bing!" says Agar. "Evocation. But it doesn't seem to bad. I... oh. Uh oh." Agar's sharp eyes have been trained to see through planar disturbances, and he is the first person to see something shivering blue emerge from the huge stalactite. Then all the dark openings almost look like they're leaking a purplish light. "Incoming!"

Malachite glances up. "We've got company," he says grimly, and then his mind registers what exactly he's seeing. "Those things moving towards us look like spectres. They're one of the most evil spirits who have had their flesh sloughed away."

"Oh, that's bad," Stone Bear grunts.

"Time to move fast now," advises an appalled Nolin. "With this light everyone can see us clearly. We're totally exposed."

"We're all going to die, and no one will care," mutters Priggle to himself. "No statues or medals for the deep gnome." He swallows drily and futilely tries to urge the magic to greater speed.

"We can move almost twice as quickly as they can," calls Malachite. Now there is a stream of them emerging from the hanging pillar, hundreds of them arcing towards the glowing group. "They're powerless in sunlight, but I can't touch Karthos while I'm in wind walk form. They have maneuverability, but we have speed. They're trying to intercept us, but I think we can outrun them."

"And then what?" asks Galthia. "It takes us thirty seconds to turn solid again."

"I think we'll have to improvise as we go along," suggests Nolin.

"They aren't human," calls Agar.

"What?"

"Those spectres. They aren't human."

Priggle glances back and immediately recognizes the growing shapes. "No, they're cloakers," groans the deep gnome. "They look like large flying deep-cavern rays. They're powerful and evil creatures that sometimes ally with drow or mindflayers."

"What can they do?" asks Mara.

"You mean when they're alive? I have no idea what they can do when they're undead. Probably something much worse. They normally have sonic abilities, and by Garl Glittergold's girdle you don't want to let them engulf you with their wings!"

"Ah," says Mara, and now the shrieking whine of the approaching spectres can heard beneath the roar of the propelling holy wind. "Joy."

The Defenders of Daybreak race towards the city of Nacreous more than a mile away, each of the heroes now glowing as brightly as their namesake. They are chased by the icy blue glow of hundreds of spectres swooping towards them in a long and curving line of hatred. And with a dull roar, an arcing bolt of flame shoots up from Nacreous and misses Malachite by about fifteen feet. Two more flaming ballista bolts follow, one missing Stone Bear and another one smashiing through Agar's misty belly. The injured halfling scowls towards the still-distant city and raises his voice in a challenge. "Oh, well. Is that the best you've got?"

Everyone else simultaneously shouts "Agar, no!" and suddenly the rest of the group scatters away from Agar.

"Err. Guys?"

As more flaming bolts launch from the distant city, it quickly becomes apparent that unless the Defenders maneuver, the spectral cloakers are going to cut them off.