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The Iron Throne groans threateningly under the pressure of the sea as Shadowheart fires radiant bolts one after another at the Sahuagins, keeping the path clear for the prisoners to escape. The entire right-hand chamber is almost emptied now, and she prays that the prison will hold long enough for everyone to escape. Wyll should be able to handle rescuing his father, while Gale stands sentry at the ladder leading to the submersible, covering the central corridor. From the corner of her eye, she sees Lae’zel cut down the last hunter near-effortlessly before running towards the lever leading further into the facility where Omeluum could be.
As the doors scrape open, cold water rushes into the room from the revealed corridor. Shadowheart prays that the broken machinery won’t end up electrocuting them – they couldn’t afford to waste a second.
She splashes down the corridor after her Githyanki friend, wishing she could move faster despite the water pulling at her boots and armour and slowing her down. Lae’zel is already mid-combat with two slimy-looking creatures near the last door, and as a third emerges between Shadowheart and the other two monsters she makes a split-second decision.
A ray of pink energy shoots from her fingertips as she holds one of the Sahuagins next to Lae’zel in place, feeling the last reserves of her magical energy begin to sap.
“Go!” She yells over the sound of rushing water and angered gurgling. Lae’zel is already sprinting away, the briefest nod of acknowledgement that she trusts her companion to both handle herself and hold their enemies off long enough to complete the mission. The closest one to Lae’zel follows at a slower pace, but if it really is Omeluum in that room then he should be able to teleport both himself and Lae’zel back to the ship and out of danger. Right now though, facing down a snarling monstrosity, Shadowheart only has to worry about herself.
She swings her mace with practiced accuracy, catching on the scaly, loose skin of its face and knocking it aside. She can’t hold the other for much longer with her energy so low, but if she can kill this one first, she’ll have a clear path to the exit.
The creature gets back up with frightening speed and rears back, swiping at her with jagged claws. With the rushing water threatening to sweep her feet from under her, she’s unable to dodge properly. The claws land with a scratch of metal as they pierce through her armour like butter. Stinging pain bursts across her face and jaw, and she grunts through gritted teeth preparing to strike back-
A sudden explosion tears through the side of the corridor, sending them both flying away from the blast with a burst of shrapnel and a deafening boom that assaults her eardrums.
Shadowheart hits the metal wall solidly and feels the air knocked out of her lungs in an instant. She barely has time to try and gasp with unwilling lungs when something else knocks her down onto the floor with bruising force, and then she’s suddenly underwater.
Disoriented but not missing a beat, she draws a knife and blindly stabs at the debilitating weight on top of her. But the blade slides off a hard surface, and the weight doesn’t move at all. With a lurch, she realises it isn’t a Sahuagin wrestling her down, but a piece of the ship itself.
Twisted metal digs into her legs and chest, solid and unforgiving and crushing against her bones. Through the numbness spreading up her legs, she thinks something might be broken, but the pain is too distant to tell. Something else is keeping her left arm from moving, but it’s sharper than the rest. When she tries to pull away, there’s an awful, tearing pain in her bicep, and the roiling water turns pink even in the dim green lights.
Most worryingly, however, is the face that she’s pinned down underwater, and already running out of air.
As the panic tears through her, she pushes with all her might with her one free limb, attempting to shuffle out from beneath the debris. It doesn’t shift, and she tries again, aching muscles straining against the sheer weight of it, so much that it hurts – and still it does not move.
She fights the growing compulsion to take a breath, her energy reserves already depleted and burning lungs worn down from the brief struggle. As if her situation wasn’t already dire, her racing heart is making her more lightheaded than when she started – a severely unlucky combination of exhaustion, lack of oxygen, and now unknown injuries dogpiling her.
Despairingly, she realises that even if she could get herself unstuck from the tangle of metal, she’s still running out of time before the Throne inevitably explodes. If drowning doesn’t kill her, then the explosion absolutely will.
Her lungs are screaming at her now to take a breath, and it’s all she can do to fight the urge. Half of her is numb from cold and injury, and the other half is going numb without precious oxygen.
If she reaches up her free hand, she can even touch dry air – taunting her just too far out of reach to save her.
And then something grabs her hand and yanks, and it hurts so much that she lets out a scream with her last, useless bubble of breath. Her left arm feels like it’s on fire, and the pressure on her legs hasn’t let up.
She’s in so much pain that it takes a moment for her to realise it’s Lae’zel that’s trying to pull her up, her green skin and gleaming armour like a beacon above the surface of the water.
A flicker of hope ignites within her, and she uses her free hand to point at her crushed legs, and then her impaled arm, hoping the message would get through fast enough. She should be telling Lae’zel to run, that she doesn’t have time to help her, but she’s scared.
She doesn’t want to be left to die alone like this.
It’s unsurprising, given the Githyanki’s sheer strength, but it takes only a moment for the weight on her legs to disappear, and sensation floods back in with an unpleasant wave of agony, hardly numbed enough from the cold to be bearable. But her head is still just beneath the surface, and she convulses as her vision starts to go spotty and dark, frantically grabbing at the protrusion in her shoulder even though she knows she’s just getting in the way. It takes everything she has not to gasp into the water in a desperate search for air, but the knowledge that freedom is imminent keeps her going.
Lae’zel bats her hand away easily from the remaining debris keeping her down, and Shadowheart lets herself go limp, her empty, aching chest jerking with each aborted breath.
A searing pain rips out of her shoulder, and she doesn’t have time to react before she’s being levered above the water at last, and she gulps down air like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.
Her head pounds with the sudden increase in oxygen and she can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears and her own wretched choking. Her nose and throat and eyes sting as she tried to return from the brink of unconsciousness, but she hardly cares as she’s finally able to breathe freely.
She’s aware of Lae’zel speaking, but it’s too fast for her to catch with her brain so muddled, so she’s surprised when the other woman stands with haste and pulls her up with her. Shadowheart’s legs throb with pain as blood rushes back into them, but there’s no time to stop. There’s urgency in Lae’zel’s raspy voice as she casts dimension door with a scroll, a solid arm gripping her tight around the waist and taking them back to the first prisoner chamber in a split second.
The entire structure around them creaks and groans loudly, a horrible reminder that they could be crushed and drowned at any second. But they’re still on their feet, and she holds on to that fact with determination as they round the corner, bringing the final corridor into view. Gale stands beneath the ladder still, looking harried until he spots them. His eyes widen at the sight of her, sodden, covered in blood, and barely able to stand on her own feet. He beckons them over hurriedly.
Then there’s a cold object slung about her neck, and Shadowheart feels the enchantment of misty step within the familiar necklace.
“Move, now!” Lae’zel gives her a firm push forward, already reading from another scroll, and Shadowheart wastes no time – she casts the spell with ease thanks to the charm, reappearing close enough to Gale that he can catch her before her legs fail. Then there’s a glow from his staff, and they’re suddenly on the floor of the submersible.
Lae’zel pops into existence behind her in a faint blue glow, and the vehicle takes off as soon as she’s slammed the exit door tightly shut. A mere handful of moments later, the world tilts as the explosion rips through the sea, the force slamming into the side of the submersible with a bang that startles most of the passengers. Shadowheart stumbles on barely working legs, but Gale is quick to deposit her in a seat, standing next to her as a brace to safely ride out the turbulence. She shudders, imagining in too much detail exactly what would have become of them if Lae’zel hadn’t come to help her. What still could happen, if the explosion below sent any pieces of metal or machinery their way.
But the walls of the submersible are sturdy, and they continue their journey safely away from what could have been her tomb.
She’s shaking with adrenaline and pain, still trying to catch her breath enough to be able to muster a weak healing spell on herself, but a slim hand settles over her own, halting her magic.
“Save your strength,” Lae’zel commands, voice lowered either on account of her terrible state, or the fact that there are other passengers trying to recover too. She passes her an opened bottle that Shadowheart throws back under her watchful gaze. She cringes at the taste, but almost immediately it starts to work, a little more artificial than her own magic but healing her all the same.
Evidently pleased, Lae’zel nods and ungracefully knocks Gale out of the way to seat herself beside Shadowheart, uncorking her own potion and downing it without flinching. Nobody has escaped unscathed, though Shadowheart seems to have ended up in the worst shape. But as she looks around at all the people they’d saved – the prisoners, Omeluum, the Duke standing with Wyll in a touching reunion – she feels a lightness in her chest that has nothing to do with the potion.
The open hole in her arm seals up fairly quickly – flesh wounds always do, with the potion targeting open bleeding first – but it takes longer for the bone-deep ache in her legs to fade. Her lungs feel lighter than before though, and she inhales the stale air with deeper and deeper breaths.
The thrum of battle gradually dissipates from her veins, and she’s left just feeling tired.
As the room sways with each swell in the water, Shadowheart finds herself listing to the side and into a supremely uncomfortable armour-clad shoulder. She feels it stiffen beneath her head but is far too exhausted to move. After a moment, a wiry, muscular arm wraps around her back and rests on her newly healed arm. Shadowheart lets a contented smile form on her face as her eyes fall shut.
Lae’zel holds her for the rest of the journey, keeping her safe.