There, There

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If there’s one thing she has learned in the intervening weeks since finding and bringing back Hosbo, Marrow, Alareeh, Shakhil, Joyce, and Rarder to Fort Ettin is that deprogramming fear out of those who have been so long under the thumb of a monster is no easy feat. Perhaps that was what made her different, why Demona had always tried her hardest with her. To break her meant she could break anyone.

But Demona had failed.

Ankaa, her mother’s apprentice in every way, the daughter she had always wanted Delilah to be, had changed so much since the half-elf knew her. The Ankaa she thought she knew wouldn’t have become the puppet of a heartless fey. But perhaps she was mistaken. Maybe Delilah had never really known Ankaa at all, only the projection, an illusion, a façade. Love is blind after all.

When Hosbo came to her with the beautifully wrapped ivory coloured box addressed to him the pit in her stomach, already fallen so deep, somehow fell even further. It had no traps, no hidden needles of poison or acid. It was just an elegant box containing five gifts from the woman she once loved.

The index finger of a half-orc with intricate henna tattoos.

The ring finger of a dwarf smelling acrid with scars of acid along one side.

A pair of thumbs, both elven, both from different owners. One bent at a strange angle, the other with its nail missing.

The pinky finger of a drow, maggot eaten and nearly falling apart.

The note, though not addressed to her, rang in her head with Ankaa’s voice.

‘I’m coming for you too.’

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The midnight hour had always been her preferred time of day. It was when the shadows were their darkest, when the night sang its sweetest songs, and when her stepping came the easiest. She and Beastie were on the upper ramparts of the curtain wall of her and Oziah’s new home. Construction has been progressing well, but it certainly would feel best when all was said and done.

There were other things besides home building and interior design that needed tending to. Items on her list that have long been left undone. The trouble was though if the person who it concerned didn’t want to take care of it, what was she to do?

“…better to find out now than to make plans and look like an idiot later…”

She doesn’t glance down at the not-cat. “Ever the source of wisdom, you are.”

“…I just say what you’re already thinking… not my fault if you ignore your own advice…”

They got her there.

“Best find the old dragon then. This discussion is long overdue.”

She stood up and scanned the walls. There was only one place with a light on, a small fire more for comfort than actually necessary. Taking a deep breath, the shadows rose up behind her and like a tidal wave enveloped her in their cold depths.

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Kurtz was in the library, his preferred place in the castle that was slowly becoming a home. It was farthest away from the construction, the most removed from Oziah’s chosen path, and always the quietest. Delilah’s steps were whispers as she approached the chair where he sat. Perhaps it was her short and uncertain exhale of breath, or the particularly loud padding of Beastie’s paws as they excitedly ran towards him, or maybe he saw a glint from one of the many knives she wore, but he knew she was there.

“I know this place isn’t finished but I must insist on helping you fill this library with some more interesting books, daughter.”

He returns a small leather bookmark to a tome entitled Architecture of the Sword Coast and stands, a wolfish grin betraying an uncharacteristically light hearted mood.

“Not that you need an excuse but what brings you to me at this hour?” He gestures at a bottle of red wine, not one from the castle’s stores, presumably brought here himself from one of his many caches across the Dawnlands and beyond. “Can I pour you a glass? It’s an excellent vintage.”

“‘The heavens grant us but one life, but through books, we can live a thousand,’” she says, stepping up next to him. Dark eyes scan the titles. Their variety is impressive. “A glass would be nice, father. It will make the conversation more palatable, at least.”

Kurtz pours a healthy glug into a long stemmed crystal glass, heraldic symbology from Cormyr etched into the sides. He raises an eyebrow, but his face becomes harder to read as he sees his daughter’s tension.

“Palatable? This sounds serious, perhaps we should sit as well?” He sinks into the high backed chair he had stood from, and gestures to a second, hesitating a fraction of a second as he realises what he is offering already belongs to Oziah and Delilah. His daughter chooses not to notice this.

“I heard Hosbo panicking. I’ve redoubled my efforts and placed wards around this building, although the workers coming and going makes total security more difficult. I still patrol the skies and shadows, but have seen nothing other than those blasted birds.” He pauses to see if he is on the right track or if his daughter is bringing him a new problem.

Delilah sits on the edge of the chair, swirling the glass of wine. “To be honest I’m more annoyed at Ankaa than worried at this point. She is biding her time, hoping Hosbo and the others will break.” The glass stops swirling. “I will not.”

In a fluid motion she tips her head back and takes a deep drink of the wine. It is very good. She raises her glass in acknowledgement.

“But I did not come here to speak about Ankaa. I came to speak about you and your shadows.” There is a pause. “Do you still wish to be free of them?”

Impressed by his daughter’s resilience to the traumas her life has brought, Kurtz offers a silent prayer of thanks that despite his lack of parenting (or maybe because of it) she has become such a forceful woman. He wonders if maybe more so after meeting Oziah. Either way his thoughts snap back to the present with her last sentence. Despite schooling his face to neutrality, his eyes betray the truth and intensity of his answer.

“Never more so. Each day I wish I could return to my natural form, cast out the influence of the shadowfell and claim a dominion somewhere in the Material plane.” He takes a more restrained mouthful of his wine, savouring the subtle flavours. “It has been more than eighty years since I shifted, and only two things stop me from returning: whether I can help you more in this form or my natural one.” A second smaller sip as he looks almost sheepish. “And I don’t know how to reverse the process.”

Delilah had been nodding, also doing her best to keep her face neutral. But by the end the shadow of a smile was darkening her face. She takes a slow sip of wine before she answers.

“How fortunate for you that I do, father. Have you heard of the Tale of Kim’hon?”

Kurtz steepled his fingers, leaning ever so slightly forward. “I have not, the name does not sound draconic. Who is or was Kim’hon and how do they relate to the matter at hand?”

“You are correct. Kim’hon is not a dragon, nor connected to anything draconic in nature except by the deed he did.”

She scoots back into the chair, crossing one leg over another as Beastie leaps up to settle in Delilah’s lap. The softest echo of a purr emanates from them as her pale fingers brush through the shadow of their fur.

“Kim’hon is a Solar of Ilmater. In my research, it is said that he used his holy blade to draw the shadows from an ancient golden dragon who had been overtaken by the Shadowfell like you. The process was not easy nor short in duration. It caused great pain to the dragon-” Her eyes alight on his, guarded but with the smallest hint of worry. “-so much so that they had to be shackled with blessed chains of adamantine to prevent him from lashing out at the Solar or succumbing to the Shadows, utterly. But Kim’hon was able to draw the Shadows out. He then fought them and came out victorious…”

Kurtz soaks this information in, his attention fixed he becomes still as stone. As Delilah finishes silence stretches out for a long moment, not awkward but contemplative. Kurtz breaks it after finishing his glass.

“That has to be the best news I have heard in a long time.” A rare smile cracks across his face. “Obviously there are a few rather large logistic obstacles, but it’s a start point and one that I can research.”

Pouring another glass for both of them he tips the final drops from the bottle. Placing it on the table he silently mouths an incantation and a tiny chest appears, pulled from some demiplane. He opens it and pulls out a second bottle of the same vintage.

“If I do this, will you be there beside me? I do not like the thought of being voluntarily shackled, I have too many enemies and few allies. The prize is significant but the risk could prove costly.”

“I wasn’t going to let you do this alone,” Delilah says. She takes a sip of wine, its fragrance stronger with the second glass, and even more delectable on the palate. “There’s no guarantee Kim’hon would consider fighting whatever Shadows have clung to you for eighty years so that responsibility would become mine.” She pauses, clears her throat, and continues. “Oziah and Carnan have said they will assist me.”

“A potent team. I remember hearing of your trip to my previous fortress in the forest. I don’t doubt you can fight whatever it is that has taken root in me. Will it be Kim’hon who extracts the shadows? Or another Solar? And who will be the one to chain me?”

He shakes his head.

“Apologies, so many questions. It’s just such wonderful news. I guess my mind is racing. I have Adamantine in reasonable quantities, but I cannot forge it into chains for example.”

“That will be the first piece we will need to sort. There are a number of smithies in Daring, but I am unsure if they will also be able to enchant them. I can ask Veridian if he can assist. It was he who first brought this tale of freedom to my attention. He knows how important this is… for both of us.”

“It’ll take me a day to collect it from the bank in Waterdeep. Even with bags of holding it’ll take a couple of trips for adamantine enough to hold me.”

Kurtz too relaxes a little in his chair. Swirling his glass playfully his face is deadpan as he says, “Perhaps when they are done with, I can gift them to Veridian as thanks, I’m sure he and Father Cai could get some use from them…”

There’s a low chuckle from Delilah as she raises her glass. “I have no doubt.”

She brings the glass to her lips but pauses as a new thought occurs to her. “There might be an obvious answer to this but I have to ask: Do you have any thoughts about which Solar we should go about asking to do this? It might be Kim’hon himself or someone else…” Delilah lowers the glass, cupping it like she would something precious. “I’d rather have this pre-arranged. Less of a chance of Oziah causing a scene if you catch my drift.”

Kurtz ponders for a while, pacing back and forth a few times before stopping. “Two gods spring to mind:

“Mielikki is the goddess of forests. Her agent may be willing to assist a green like me returning to my true form. She is however devoted to what many would term ‘good’ ideals.”

The face Delilah makes is clear that would not be the ideal option, for any of them.

Kurtz continues. “Silvanus is more neutral on that front, more focussed on the wilderness and if I remember correctly has a connection with Carnan. If he were willing to put a good word in for me, perhaps that is the best choice?”

“Now that’s a lead we can follow,” Delilah says, making note to speak to Carnan in the coming days.

Sitting back in his chair Kurtz scratches his chin. “We would still need to find them both. I have no idea of their names but perhaps there is a record of such things we could access.”

“I am sure either Carnan can find out for us by reaching out to Silvanus, or I can do some of my own digging. Either way, leave that with me.” She accentuates her words by downing the remaining wine in her glass.

“I will leave it in your very capable hands and head to Waterdeep at dawn. Keep a close eye on Hosbo and his ilk while I am away. It would frustrate me to allow Ankaa even a tiny victory.” Delilah raises an eyebrow in agreement, getting up from the high backed chair.

Kurtz finishes his glass and stands. Moving to Delilah he offers a rare embrace.

“Thank you daughter. Considering everything we have been through, this is more than I deserve.”

It is a beat before she breathes.

“‘Those who stand for nothing die for the same.’”

Then her arms wrap around her father, tight as a vice, certain as death.

“‘If you stand only for yourself, you fall alone.’” She lets out a humourless chuckle. “I am full of quotes this night. But the sentiment is the same. Without your vigilant eye, I would not dare propose this course now. That said, it won’t be easy, father.” She pulls back, looking him dead in the eye. “You will have your own fight to contend with whilst I deal with the Shadow.”

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