The others were easy to find as I remounted and took stock of the situation.  A cloud of deepbats circled and swooped over them. I guided my mount in their general direction and urged him to a quicker pace. Coming upon the scene, I was not surprised to see that the mage-creature was fending off its attackers. Mavralyn’s party circled like wolves, almost daring the thing to focus on just one of them and expose its flanks.  Deepbats continued to dive at the party members, but so far no one had been... I cursed myself, as one appeared to strike Mavralyn with its tail... she stopped moving... not... good...

I was not going to get there in time. There was too much ground between us. I slapped my riding whip down on the back end of the steeder. He lurched forward with a tremendous leap, keeping stride once he landed. As I braced myself for another jump, I noticed that the mage-creature had one of the yathrinen in its grasp. Her kyorl^*1 had tried to maneuver himself for a rear attack and was out of position to aid her. Out of position... it was suddenly becoming a recurring theme. I brought the whip down again, and we were once more briefly airborne. I was going to be very close, but I was not going to make it. The circling bats knew when one of their targets was vulnerable, knew it was time to strike.

As my mount gained enough speed for a third jump (the fourth looked to put me in the right spot) I saw a streak of flame erupt from Shadosin and explode very close to the undead mind-flayer.  As I used the whip to induce the third jump, I could see another streak detonate right in front of the intended target. As we descended I concentrated on the explosion; it was large enough, bright enough. Making up my mind, I loosened my grip on my mount. We landed, and then I took off again, momentum from the jump carrying me up out of the saddle and forward. As I flew through the air I concentrated on Shadosin's hand movements... waited for the trigger...

There.

The third explosion rocked the caverns, as did the previous two, and as would the next. I unceremoniously landed in a sliding heap on the edge of the rough circle the combatants had formed. Standing quickly (but, to my later chagrin, not quickly enough) I surveyed the area... looked at the crater where the mage-thing, yathrin and kyorl had been, looked to the emptying sky as deepbats, free from the mage's charm now, flew swiftly away from the strangers that made fire and noise... looked to the ground where hacked, shot, and even the occasional charred dead bat lay dying or dead... then, looked to Mavralyn, who was moving now, evidenced by the fact that she was standing next to me smirking.

"It looks as though your jumps still need practice," she prodded huskily.  Was that a hint of pain in her tone?  I glanced sharply towards her, searching for the truth of that strange note in her voice.  Raising one of those silver wings of hers, she returned my look with one of inquiry.  Shaking my head slightly at the foolish notion I turned to look about.

Bending over slightly to dust myself off, I looked again to the bloodied and charred bats lying around the circle. Suppressing a smirk of my own, "Xas, ussta Ilharess^*2. They certainly do."  It was then her body leaned heavily against mine, smearing blood I hadn't noticed before, all over me.  Fortunately I was able to catch the slumping form in time noting the softness of her skin and how well she seemed to fit in my arms.

As the battle raged around her, Tilfahr watched in horror as the other slaves around her continued to drop like leaves off a dead tree. She ducked as another deepbat dove at her, bringing up her flail to glance it as it passed. Her right leg was a river of pain where it had been hit across the back of her thigh by one of the magic-controlled slaves fighting beside her. She was very glad that the Ilharess had chosen to let her keep the use of her mind, enabling her to use what magic she knew as well as her natural fighting skills. All those many battles she had fought in her past were truly helping her now. She was one of the few slaves still standing, and among the even fewer number still able to fight.

The huge bat dove again, drawing her attention from the bodies littering the ground around her. Spinning around, she brought up her flail and landed a powerful blow to the beasts head, sending it crashing to the ground in a spray of blood and a mighty shriek. Chasing after it, she smashed in the dying beasts head and quickly turned to meet the next oncoming opponent. 

Looking up she saw a group of about a dozen more deepbats careening towards her, shrieking at the defeat of their fellow. Quickly, Tilfahr dove behind a nearby boulder and swiftly began preparing her last fireball spell, jumping up to get the groups attention just as she flung the spell at them. Fire exploded in mid air, engulfing the group in a flair of burning flesh. The charred bodies rained down from the air, landing on another slave who was stumbling along with a severe gut wound. A brief flash of regret took her, quickly pushed aside by the immediate need to survive...

Soon, too soon, her spells were all cast and she entered into a daze, blindly fighting with her flail, instinct now guiding her movements. Twice she was grazed by bats, their tails just scratching her along her back, causing her body to grow progressively numb. She was spared the full effect by the amulet she kept about her neck, numbing the pain of her wounds and dimming the effect of the poisons. 

After what felt like hours of constant fighting, the sounds of battle died down and soon only the moans of the injured and dying remained to be heard. As her senses slowly came back to her, she looked around at the vast devastation around her. She found herself surrounded by a ringed wall of the bodies of the giant deepbats and other monsters. As exhaustion began to take her bruised and battered body, Tilfahr stumbled over the carnage and made her way back to the boulder she had hidden behind earlier. 

As she dropped down behind the boulder, she summoned the strength to grasp her amulet and whisper the activation words of it's healing spell. As the amulet slowly poured magic healing power in to her weary body, she drifted off into a slight doze...
 
 

...Coming awake what seemed like only minutes later, Tilfahr dragged herself to her feet, just barely noticing the diminished level of pain she still felt. Slowly, her mind began to clear and she looked about the devastation beyond the boulder she now leaned against. Among the bodies of fallen monsters and slaves she saw white and silver haired bodies as well...

"Tull... the Ilharess... are they okay....?" Her still fogged mind asked itself. Stumbling out from behind the boulder, she began to wander about the various fallen bodies, searching...

After a while, she found him, collapsed near the bodies of the alhoon and some of the less fortunate drow, barely conscious. Dropping to her knees at his side she reached a blood encrusted hand to his neck feeling for a pulse. She sighed in relief when she found one. "He's still alive... barely." She thought.

Quickly, she reached for her amulet and lifted it from about her neck. Placing it upon his chest, she murmured the activation words again, this time sending it's healing powers into the weak and battered body of her master. The burns covering his body and the smaller gashes upon his chest closed and healed, and his heart beat slowly strengthened, sending him into the more pleasant state of reverie instead of the unstable coma he had been so close to when she found him.

Now that she was sure he would not die, she settled down beside him and looked his body over for more serious wounds. Upon finding that his right arm was broken, she took two of the arrows laying on the ground close by and carefully set and bound the broken bone. His face grew momentarily contorted in pain as the broken ends of the bone found each other and snapped together.

The cuts on his face had healed, but the bruises remained, leaving his face looking pale and gaunt. A deeper ebony in several places added to the overall effect as the bruises began to show more clearly on his dark skin. Knowing that she would need her spells to do anymore, she found a clear spot to sit, pulled her grimoire from her pack, and began to memorize the spells she had cast earlier, substituting a few instead for the stronger healing spells she would need to finish healing the more serious wounds that Tull had sustained...

...Looking up from her grimoire as she finished memorizing her spells, she quickly scanned the cavern, noting that several of the surviving drow were now up and walking, searching the devastation for other survivors in worse condition. She noticed one particular drowess walking towards her, her body splashed with blood and her clothes slightly charred and tattered. As the drowess drew nearer, Tilfahr was able to recognize her. It was one of the younger females, who had just completed her training in time to join in the battle.

Tilfahr slid closer to Tull, not wishing for this young drowess to decide that he was too badly wounded to deserve healing. As the female, Farenth, reached them (she was finally able to place the name with the face) Tilfahr saw a faint smile curve her lips as her eyes dropped to look at Tull's battered features.

At seeing the smile, Tilfahr relaxed slightly and prepared a healing spell for the serious wounds her amulet was unable to heal. A soft deep chuckle made her pause just before she began the casting of the spell. She looked up, and saw the drowess shaking her head.

"No slave, I shall deal with this one. You may go and assist the others in need of healing," Farenth said softly.

Tilfahr tensed at her words and, knowing it could get her killed, slowly shook her head. Farenth frowned and stepped closer to her, looking down into her eyes with those piercing red orbs.

"And why do you not obey me, slave?" There was faint anger in her voice, and Tilfahr feared she had stepped too far with this one.

Out of long habit, she answered in the drow tongue. "Because," Tilfahr replied softly, "he is my master, Yathrin. I cannot leave his side while he is still injured."

The yathrin chuckled and nodded. "You are a good slave..." the priestess seemed to be searching for her name.

"Tilfahr, yathrin. My name is Tilfahr," she whispered.

"Ahhh, I have heard of you from Tull before, "the yathrin replied. Then, without elaborating, Farenth knelt down on Tull's other side and gently shook his head, waking him from sleep. As Tull looked up at Farenth in surprise and confusion, the drowess laughed softly.

"Tullarix, you must be more careful in the future. It would not be good if you got yourself killed. You would prove to be a less than adequate warrior if you did." she told him, mischief glinting in her eyes.

Drawing a symbol on his chest and murmuring a few words, Farenth sent a flood of power into Tull's body, healing as it spread through him. His bruises faded, and the gashes on his chest closed rapidly without a mark left behind to show that they had ever been there. Tilfahr watched in amazement as she saw her master's body healed so quickly right before her eyes.

"Such power," she thought. As the magic continued to spread through his body, it completed the healing that she had started on the more severe burns, and finally extended out to his arms and legs. As it flooded his broken arm, she watched as he arched his back and clamped his eyes shut, for the magic was healing the broken bone at an extremely painful rate.

Finally, the flood of power stopped and Farenth lifted her hand from Tull's chest. As the power faded, Tull collapsed into an exhausted sleep. Turning to her, Farenth spoke in a voice that was surprisingly soft.

"Watch him, slave. See that no one disturbs him for the next few hours."

Farenth rose to her feet and gracefully walked off to see to the other wounded still in need of healing. Tilfahr remained seated next to Tull, watching over him and contemplating the power she had seen in the young priestess, Farenth.