“I’ve spent hundreds of years waiting to guide L’zar’s halfling kid through the drow trials.” Corian uncovered an ornately decorated silver box with the engraving of a tree on the lid and tucked it under his arm. “Never thought I’d be whipping up a Don’adurr Thread, but that’s on me.”
When he stepped back, the small portal disappeared with another soft pop, and Corian lowered himself to the ground with all the things he’d pulled from his basement on the other side of the country.
Stepping toward him, Cheyenne studied the small corked vials and dried herbs scattered on the sparse grass. “I’d appreciate a little more of an explanation before diving into this. Seriously.”
“Just give me a minute.” He stacked the dried herbs in a pile and wrinkled his nose. “This is the last of my riverwort, by the way. We’d be in a different situation if I’d used any of this sooner, but lucky for you, drow potions are low on my list of go-to options.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m feelin’ real lucky.”
The Nightstalker looked at her with a raised eyebrow and said, “Sit. And be quiet so I can focus.”
Digging deeper and deeper into a hole I can’t see. This better be worth it. Forcing herself not to spit out any other smart remarks, the drow halfling sat on the ground and crossed her legs, watching her mentor get to work.
She didn’t recognize any of the ingredients, but Corian moved so quickly, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He crushed dried herbs in an alarmingly stained mortar, then dumped tiny vials of purple and clear liquid into the mix and stirred it. When he slid aside the lid of the fancy silver box with the tree rising in gnarled lines from the center, a soft golden glow illuminated his catlike features.
“What’s—”
“Shh!” Corian reached into the box and pulled out another vial. It was long and slender, with an intricate wrapping of copper coils. Whatever it held was the source of the golden light. He uncorked it carefully and slowly tipped the lip into the mortar. Two drops, that was it. Then he closed the vial again and put it back inside the silver box. He tried to hide it, but Cheyenne’s hearing picked up his tiny sigh of relief once the golden light faded.
With the pestle, he stirred the whole weird, glowing mixture again, then dropped the stone tool into the dirt.
“Okay. That’s for you.”
The halfling stared at the swirling concoction in the mortar, which flashed with gold and purple light a few times before it settled. “To do what?”
“To drink. That’s the Don’adurr.”
“I’m not drinking that.” She shook her head and leaned away, scowling in distaste. “Not until you tell me what’s in it and what it’s supposed to do. That stuff smells like grapefruit.”
“You don’t like grapefruit?”
“Not without actual grapefruit.”
“This is how it’s done. You say his name and drink it, then I tell you good luck, and we wait for the Don’adurr to run its course.”
Cheyenne eyed the mystery potion a little longer. “I should’ve asked that crazy drow for a Plan B.”
“Hey.” When she looked at him, Corian leaned toward her and raised his eyebrows. “Do you trust me?”
“I thought I did.”
“Cut the smartass remarks. I’m serious.”
“So far, yeah.”
“Good. And I trust that crazy drow, however hard it is for you to believe.” He pointed at the mortar. “Drink it. It won’t hurt if that’s what you’re wondering about. Not that I’ve heard about, at least.”
“See, comments like that are earning you negative points on the trust scale.” Despite everything, Cheyenne reached for the mortar with both hands and lifted it into her lap. “How much of this is going down the hatch?”
“It’ll be more effective with all of it, but as much as you can.”
“Okay.” With a hesitant nod at the stone bowl in her hands, she lifted it to her mouth and muttered, “L’zar Verdys.”
The mortar was cold against her lips, but the potion inside it felt like melted ice. She chugged down as much as she could before the overwhelming, fruity bitterness almost made her choke. She put the bowl back down on the dry grass, and Corian leaned sideways to peer at what was left. “Good enough. Good luck.”
With the potion still trailing an icy line down her throat and into her stomach, Cheyenne looked at her Nightstalker mentor with wide eyes. “What now?”
One of his ears twitched again, sending ripples of fur floating away from his face and dancing across the air. She giggled. I don’t giggle. What the hell?
The grass grew in front of her eyes when she looked down, then shrank back to its normal size again. A wave broke somewhere off the island, echoing a hundred times before Cheyenne turned to look out across the ocean. Heavy dizziness made her sway when she turned her head. The starlight pulsed in her vision, brighter and brighter, and the next thing she knew, she sank down onto her back to lie in the dirt on Alcatraz Island.
Great. He just made me dark-elf LSD. Not that I have anything to compare it to, but I am tripping right now.
“Whoops!” The word escaped her in a high-pitched squeak, and the halfling giggled again. Keep it together. Don’t go all… Who put those faces in the sky?
Her eyelids felt incredibly heavy when she closed them, her head spinning faster by the second. Then the dizziness and the feeling of floating out of her body and even the sound of the crashing waves stopped. Cheyenne couldn’t even hear the muted rush of cars and pedestrians enjoying just a regular Thursday night in San Francisco. There was nothing.
When the halfling opened her eyes again, she found herself sitting on the stone floor of a small dark room. The steel door on her right wasn’t a door at all but a wall of iron bars. Through the bars, she saw metal staircases and walkways, more rows of iron bars stretching across the far wall, and glowing red light
