Shadowdancer 8

The day began as usual, a day of being locked up and sneaking out. A few more days would mark their twelfth birthday. If things remained on schedule, one year till freedom. Zarae was released at lunch, having returned from her outing just in time to not get caught by Zebeycyrl. Surprisingly, Zarae was told to take the tome and go to her own room after the meal. The drowling didn't hide her joy in not returning, a fact which annoyed the assassin.
Down in dining hall, Zarae enjoyed a plate of fried rothe strips, alone. Not even Myrurra was present to pick on. Bored, she carried her plate into the kitchen. The half orc had been replaced by a scrawny human male. This only caused her to wonder how in the demonweb pits he was able to see. The slave collars didn't have any special benefits she knew of, only that it would not allow a slave to attack one of the family members and forced slaves to obey. At first glance he seamed rather pathetic. But he had a magical aura about him. At one time this human had to have been some type of wizard or cleric. One who fell into drow hands at some point and became captive. She continued to study the surfacer with curiosity. The human was built like Neeryrd, only taller, broad shoulders, thick waist, and something she only saw on dwarves- facial hair. Zarae had seen humans in passing at the Bazaar Slave Trading booth, but he was one of the first to work in the house; humans were not ideal slaves because they could not naturally see in the darkness of the Underdark and drow cities. Which still begged the question, how did he see?
He looked at her expectantly while the others had grown use to her being in the kitchen. They just went about their business of preparing meals and cleaning. Zarae hopped up on the counter then and bit into another bite of her lunch.
"Little jabbress?" the new slave asked, eyes submissive and lowered.
"What?" she asked with a full mouth, crossing a leg over the other to watch him grow more uncomfortable and hopefully squirm. It was something to do anyway. She kinda missed the half orc now she thought of it. At least she didn't die totally in vain. Nilrae got their older brother, a prank as good as any of her own.
He stuttered to respond not sure what to say. Zarae then chuckled at him then shooed him away. The human went back to stirring the sauce, the girl pulled out her hollow reed, and placed another pellet inside. She motioned over the halfling, whispered into her ear and let her go back, only instead the halfling moved a large pot in the path. The pellet flew from her blowgun to hit the human in the face and land in his beard. He silently grumbled but knew better than to say or do anything.
"All new slaves get broke in," she laughed and finished the last piece of her lunch, "good thing I got stuff to do."
Hopping down from the counter she brushed crumbs off her hands and headed out, much to the relief of a few kitchen slaves. The dining hall was still empty, only a few common soldiers in the other side. Back upstairs in her room, she pulled out her pack and dug through it. She still didn't have her map, but she knew how to get there. Only she wasn't sure if she wanted to go alone. Nilrae was too busy with his own wizardly studies with Izzmurss to tag along. Maybe Averl would go. She hadn't seen the half elf in a while. Changing from the nicer shirt and leggings for her worn out ones, she got dressed for travel. Her equipment went into the bag, including some trail rations, some smoke bombs, sheets of parchment, everglow ink, and other things of use in the wilds. Boots slipped over her feet and she grabbed her cloak and headed to her door. She decided 'borrowing' the magical rock wouldn't bother Nilrae too much, he'd understand. Just as she was opening the door, Ladayiir stood there. Zarae rolled her eyes and tried to slip past. Ladayiir caught hold of her cloak and pulled her back.
"Nope. Not today. Get back in there," Ladayiir scolded pushing the girl back into the room.
"Who in the abyss do you think you are?" she questioned defiantly, fists on her hips.
"Get undressed and into the tub. We don't have a lot of time."
Her arms crossed, "I don't think so. I already have plans. So EXCUSE me," shoving Ladayiir out of her way.
The two argued for 20 minutes, Ladayiir not moving to allow the stubborn girl to leave. Eventually, she threatened to get the matron herself- a dangerous endeavor. Not only would Zarae's mother be angry, she would be on the receiving end of that. Especially if the matriarch had ordered this. Of course Ladayiir would also, more so. Zarae contemplated if it was worth it before throwing her pack on the bed. Ladayiir sighed in relief, until a boot flew at her head. Quick reflexes, she moved in time for both aimed at her.
Dropping her traveling clothes on the washroom floor, she activated the decanter that filled the tub and got in. Ladayiir followed suit, pulling out a few vials from the washroom cabinet. Dumping the scented oils into the water, the floral smell filled the small room, a new scent from the surface lands. Zarae knew something important was going on. Ladayiir took shampoo and poured some into her hands to lather up the girl's long hair. Still pouting, Zarae said nothing as her head was moved around by the half drow. Shampoo rinsed out, Ladayiir held another vial, this one filled with a white gel. The dye was placed in the girl's hair, covering very piece of red that she had naturally.
Some of it dripped down her face. "Wait," Zarae jerked away, "why are you coloring my hair?"
"To hide this… defect. No weaknesses," the handmaid replied, grabbing Zarae's shoulder to push her back in place and finish.
Zarae knew her hair was different, even odd. But she had never considered it an issue before. But the reality was it a defect. When physical beauty meant everything in the drow world, could mean the difference between life and death, her hair made her, as her sister put it, 'a freak'. Dye rinsed out and completely clean, Ladayiir helped Zarae out of the tub and tossed her the towel to dry off. She then headed to the wardrobe to see it basically empty. The clothing was strewn everywhere, clean and dirty. Only things left were the only two formal ceremonial suits.
"How do you find anything in this mess?"
"What do you care?" came from the washroom, "I can find what I want when I need it. Beside, Lloth is the Lady of Chaos, so I'm just reflecting that."
"Find your smallclothes and take a seat," she called to Zarae pulling her desk chair to sit it in the middle of the room.
Zarae stared into the looking glass with mixed thoughts at her hair. She attempted to run a hand thru the wet tangled mess, just shaking her head in disbelief. It was strange to look so… normal! The dragging of the chair on the stone floor signaled Zarae to walk back into her room, towel in hand drying her now dyed hair. Zarae knew exactly where things were and tossed her towel at Ladayiir then slipped her smallclothes on before sitting down, arms crossed as she slumped. Ladayiir grabbed a tortoise shell comb from the dresser and tapped it to her lips deciding how to start.
"Why must you be so difficult?"
"So sorry to inconvenience you," came the sarcastic reply.
Ladayiir started at the bottom in the middle of her back to start working out tangles and knots. Zarae winced a lot, pulling away several times to have Ladayiir push her back. After nearly an hour, her hair was completely tangle free, soft and silky and rivaling any vain woman's hair. Next, the girl's hair was fixed up, strands from both sides around her face were pulled back, braided and pinned with an ivory clip. Zarae spent the entire time bored and struggling to stay put while enduring the torture. The half drow place a hand on her shoulder to tell her to stay put as she grabbed the ceremonial dress.
"Why cant I just wear my regular clothes?" the girl whined.
"Because have to look like a female for once, and her daughter. Matron's orders."
"Whatever" she replied rolling her eyes and standing up.
The leggings, made of a white spidersilk were tossed for Zarae to slip on first. Then the main dress was dropped over her head; Ladayiir worked on the laces on the back, tying them as tight as she could manage. An embroidered obi like sash was wrapped around her tiny waist gathering the loose material and showing just how small and lean her frame really was. The shoulder piece was tied in place finishing the suit.
"There, that should pass inspection of even a matron," the handmaid replied with pride, "and not too soon. We're already late enough."
"Good, now you can feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Zarae bit in sarcasm again.
"Yes, now we can go, and maybe by then you will loose that smart mouth."
She led Zarae to the house chapel, periodically looking back to make sure she hadn't taken off. That would be a nightmare, show up and lose her charge. Ladayiir stopped at the double doors of the chapel, bowing slightly and motioning for the girl to enter. Before Zarae opened the door, an ominous sick feeling came over her. Meeting in the chapel was the first hint something was up. Near the door, the sickly sweet incense could be smelt, mingling with the lingering smells of old blood, coals, and some scents that just pure stunk. Zarae hesitated, as her hand reach out to take hold of the onyx handles.
Inside only the glow of one of the eight brazier and eight candles on the altar showed in the darkness. The chapel's curving walls were covered with statues, and figures of spiders. In the benches around the chapel was the entire house compound, apart from slaves and a few drow soldier guards. One side sat the males, on the other the females. For the most part it was quiet, a few hush whispers of a couple brave females. Zarae's family was down twords the center of the room. On the raised platform stood Xullafay. In front of the aisle between the two sides of seats stood Zebeycyrl. Alylin, Myrurra sat next to the aisle in the front row. Across from them was the weapon-master, the current house patron with his consort cloak, Neeryrd and Nilrae. Everyone was dressed in their formal ceremonial clothing. Preparing to slide in to sit beside Myrurra, Xullafay called the girl to come up on stage. Zarae's blood began to run cold. She thought that she had gotten into some major trouble and was finally being sacrificed to Lloth like her sisters threatened. It wouldn't be unheard of, even if it was rare for a matron's daughter to be sacrificed. Fear nearly overwhelmed her and she contemplated running. It was understood that loyalty is owed only to Lloth, but self-preservation was the first law of drow society.
As if Xullafay read her mind, the elest daughter gave the girl a wicked smile, not easing the girl's fears. Zebeycyrl urned to face the rest of the people, waved her hands and the house began chanting a song to the Spider Queen. The room grew darker as the brazier fire went dull, the appearance like only hot coals left and billowing a thin smoke onto the platform. The image of her dream came to the forefront of Zarae's mind. A foggy haze grew as the song of the crowd rose and fell in intensity; the effects made the girl feel lightheaded and dizzy. Refusing to grab ahold of anything to not appear weak, she stood still in the middle of the aisle and closed her eyes to fight the overwhealming sensations and feelings.
Then as the song neared its first pause, the matriarch stepped out from the curtain. Zarae opened her eyes to see her mother dressed in her most elaborate ceremonial priestess robes. Blood-red spidersilk with purple and black shimmering effects and a top only covering her chest minimally. Shoulders were covered with polished adamantine shoulder guards and a belt with a web design set with eight magical gems. The cape ran to mid-thigh and was equally marvelous as the dress and equally enchanted. Mithril bracers adorned her wrist and eight rings on her fingers. The sapphire amulet sat in the most alluring place almost as if daring someone to leer there. Her head piece was made of adamantine and mithril, set with black sapphires, black diamonds, and back spinels, all shaped like spiders, and four 'arms' on each side coming off to resemble the eight legs of a spider. Her hair was pulled up into an extravagant hairstyle and completely free of the usual dyes.
"Step up here, my daughter," Matron Shyntyl called to Zarae in an eerie motherly way.
Zarae stood dumbfounded a moment; her mother had not claimed her yet so personally. It was something to be earned. But the hesitation was only a second or two and she did as she was told. Xullafay raised a hand and the chapel became a silent as death, even the crackle in the fire seamed to heed the high priestess. A snap of fingers echoed in the chamber and two female priestesses stepped out. Between them was a pale skinned bound prisoner with a burlap sack covering the head. Dressed in tattered rags, one could see it was a female; and her body structure gave away as elven or elven ancestry. At first thought, Zarae thought it might have been one of their surface cousins for a special occasion. It was not uncommon to have special offerings the Spider Queen or begin high holy days with the shedding of the blood of the drow's most hated enemy. Only, it wasn't a holy day. Every drowling learned those early on. She didn't think they were going to war and asking for aid, no house wars had occurred in over four centuries; not to mention only one house remained above them in rank. In fact, House Kilanatlar was the last house to attack another in such a meaningful way. She didn't believe they had lost favor. Such a ceremony would not have been so public.
Matron Shyntyl uncharacteristically took the girl's hand and walked her close to the altar. Xullafay held the sacrificial dagger, the same one from her dream, and handed it over to the matron. Zarae took a sweeping glance over the audience, noting that Alylin held a strange grin and Myrurra sat with her usual sour look.
The two priestess roughly forced the prisoner to her knees. The matron circled her, the sacrificial kris tugging at the burlap on the prisioner's head. Stopping behind the bound female, the matron's hand grabbed the sack and yanked it off. Once again, the girl was dumbfounded. Her brows knitted in confusion and she started to back-peddle. Xullafay stood directly behind Zarae, cutting off her chance to run. There bound and gagged was Averl in the worse condition she had ever seen the slave. Zarae's heart dropped and her eyes grew bluish in hue.
The haze and effects from the incense and mix of emotions were like mind numbing agents, leaving her stunned and clouding her mind. Thoughts were blurred and she could not think straight. Zarae unintentionally tuned out most of what was said to her. However, the word betrayal rang through her mind as the high priestess spun the tale. Bile rose in her throat- trust invariably brought betrayal. Averl had betrayed her.
Averl listened as the matron's influence washed over the drowling, watched the girl's eyes change as the emotions played out, her own filled with sadness. Averl knew what they were doing to her. Weaning out what they thought was weakness in the youngest daughter. Turning her into that cold blooded emotionless killer, to remove compassion and mercy, joy and laughter, and fill it with hate, greed, and lust.
Matron Shyntyl held the sacred blade out on her palms, "Show us," was whispered supernaturally in her ear, "Do what you desire."
A moment passed, what felt like a century to the girl; Zebeycyrl then directed everyone watching to begin the chanting again. Dark supernatural powers fell like an oppressive invisible blanket trying to smother her, trying to choke her soul. Zarae could not get out of this, even if she desired. Her mother, the powerful matron stood before her, and no doubt Lloth was watching. If that was not bad enough, the entire house was watching her in expectation that this half faerie elf would die. If she did not do this, loss of favor of her house would only be the beginning of new kind pain.
Compelled by so many external influence and her own feelings of anger at betrayal, Zarae took the blade into her palms. She just held it, hands trembling as the song of the chapel began and grew twords a climax. Turning to Averl, she closed her eyes once again, this time removing any compassion she had for the friend. Opening them again, her face was cold, dark, and lifeless as any other drowess. Zarae stepped up to the slave she viewed as a trusted associate. The blade in hand, the matron pulled the slave's hair, yanking her head back to expose her chest for the blade to plunge in.
Matron Shyntyl's laugh crackled thru the dome shaped chamber, her youngest daughter surprised even her by what happened next.
******
Lady Erelrae had for the next few days hidden away from everyone, including her daughters and best friends. Most of time was spent in meditation and prayer, including mournful songs and dances that displayed her inner turmoil. She knew well how dangerous it was becoming. Their rivals and enemies would not stop until they were destroyed. The ceremony showed just how close the Vhaeraunites had gotten to winning the upper hand. Yet they still dared not strike so boldly. For Erelrae knew their secrets too.
Maryne despite the joy of the love binding between her and Velnarin, she felt pained and disappointment over Vastyrr. Mostly, she wondered how she had missed such clues. Had she, spared from the horrors of the usual drow life, become so naïve to the truth? Maryne lay in Velnarin's arms, his hand rubbing along her arm for comfort.
Sitting up she looked to Velnarin, "how did you handle it?"
"Hmmm?" sitting up himself, "handle what?" Looking into her face answered it enough for her, and all he could do was wrap an arm around her shoulder.
"I mean, I know this is how our people are. Yet I have been spared, until now, these ugly truths. I get growing up here in this house, it is different," a few tears traced her cheek as she tried to hold them back. Then she laughed at herself. "Here I am, a drow, crying over betrayal. How foolish I am."
He chuckled at the thought, and then cleared his throat as she gave him a look. No words came to him in response. How could he explain? Their lives were different as light and dark. He had been slow to trust, to understand. Had been slow to shed his old ways and habits. Yet he had never removed them all. Something she at times found difficult to understand.
"I almost got all of us killed, destroyed. Found out. I am a liability to all. I..dont belong here."
"What are you saying?"
"Maybe I…" looking to Velnarin whose eyes showed hurt, "…we should travel to the Light Above. Leave this behind."
He sat up straighter, the blanket falling off him as he thought over her words. He had been able to secure vital information from the Vhaeraunites by going undercover. He was one of the few truly capable of such a task. In fact, he had been in discussion before the ceremony about attempting again of getting into the main base. that had been put on hold for now.
"Maryne…" his voice soft and gentle as he could muster, "We cant. Not now, or not yet."
She looked away twords the floor, arms around her bear torso. She understood what he wasn't saying.
"When?"
"In a moon cycle. This time, it maybe longer," his voice more solem yet determined, "but considering what we gathered last time, this will be just as important."
"Why you? There are others just as qualified."
"Yes, but I have already gotten further than the others. And as far as I know, my cover has not been compromised," he replied, legs sliding off to dangle over the bed, "you of all should understand this importance."
Maryne tried not to let the bit of anger gathering beneath her eyes show. Anger at him, anger at Lady Erelrae, even a twang of anger directed at Eilistraee. She breathed out a heavy sigh asking for guidance.
"What's the mission?"
******
Eva passed by the female rooms again, all the younger drowlings at rest. a few whispers she caught once in a while, their conversations reminding her of the simple days. With a grin, she continued her patrol, sounds of metal clanging with metal coming from the gym. Eva stood at the door, Maryne's blade connecting with the dummy in the most letal ways, if it had been alive. Maryne realized she was being watched and turned. Her body was dripping with sweat, hair stuck to her head and neck. Even the simple tunic and leggings were soaked.
"I don't think he's getting the message," Eva jested.
"Yeah well. He will feel my wrath!" the sword spun and moved to strike would have been the upper arm. The force, surely would have severed one.
Eva rarely saw the young ranger so riled up. She stood at the doorway watching, Maryne talking out her frustrations on the equipment. Finally, the priestess was understanding.
"Do you think us unfair?" Eva asked as the sword again hit what would have been a vital area. A few grunts to yank the blade away, but otherwise didn't answer. "You must know how important this is. We cant have another…situation like before."
That only made the ranger's attacks more ferocious on the training dummy. Soon exhaustion crept in, and her attacks slowed considerably. It wasn't long when her arms felt like jelly and she could no longer raise her sword into even a simple hold. Maryne let it clang onto the floor, as she stood panting. Eva remained in her place.
"Sometimes, we must do what we must. I know this pains you in more ways than one. But the times are getting dangerous, more dangerous than ever before. Lady Erelrae has seen it."
Maryne looked up at that, expecting Eva to continue. But when she didn't she started to ask, only to be stopped by a simple hand.
"I cannot say. Not yet."
Maryne's face dropped, tired, frustrated, and secrets grated on her. But she put it behind her when Eva walked over and took her weary arms and the two danced a few minutes. Eva then parted and continued on her patrol again.
Lillintha too was making a patrol, tho her purpose was seeking to see how much damage had been done since Vastyrr. Eva quickly gave her an update as the two talked over the night's discoveries. Thankful to the Lady, nothing major. But Lillintha suspected more.
"There were several parchments, and magical ink. I fear she may have gotten letters or messages to them."
Eva bit her lip in thought, "that is why he must get in. we cant take anymore chances, not now."
"Yes. Tho how do we stop any retaliations till then? Would you not strike back?"
"Yes I would. But we must remember that they operate in discrete ways as the Masked Lord does. Rarely openly and not with the Spider Queen's church also hunting them," Eva paused. Both were thinking the same thing.
They would have to meet with some of the matrons of the city again.
"Send..." trying to think of her name, "Maryne? To Bruhaonar," Lillintha said at last before leaving Eva.
******
Izzmurss walked the halls of Sorcere, vials in hand. At last, slower than his progress was intended, he had it complete. The perfect concoction, and next to impossible to detect. Except maybe the deities. But his target was not a cleric. Inside the alchemy lab of the 12 years students, Gulhrys sat. One of his lower wizard students grading simple assignments off to the side. The 10th year student looked up to the entrance of the teacher then back to his task. Gulhrys, closed his spell book and tucked it away into a secret comportment inside his many pocketed robe. He gave the second house wizard a condescending grin but otherwise ignored Izzmurss' entrance. Izzmurss too likewise ignore his rival, heading to the cabinet and placing each glass container inside. The labels were placed around each and secured in the back. Other vials of potions were then put away before Izzmurss secured the storage and quietly turned to exit the chamber.
"Hold," Gulhrys's grating voice came.
The archwizard leaned back in the cushioned chair and waited for the fellow wizard to come, 'like an obedient dog.' He knew this second house wizard was deadly, dangerous, and coveted his spot. But the arrogant first house wizard and head master of Sorcere was too confident to believe that the lower ranking wizard could not touch him. His person held so many wards, so much magic, and such power, few could rival him. Most importantly, he was still in Matron Mae'Vir's favor. And he knew what his matron had been planning.
Izzmurss held in all his thought and feeling for the archwizard well as he turned to face Gulhrys. Tilting his head he waited for the elder wizard to speak. Gulhrys knew, or assumed he knew. His dark dexterous fingers interlace as he leaned forward.
"Your time is well past up. I had been rather generous in giving you the extra year. I know how your matron had you busy with her youngest," his smirk at the knowledge of the going-ons of the second house was not hidden. It clearly put Izzmurss off enough for his to shuffle his stance slightly. But neither broke or betrayed their thoughts even as Gulhrys continued, "You owe me and I am calling it in now."
Izzmurss gulped inconspicuously, yet Gulhrys caught it, his smug look growing larger. Izzmurss had discovered how to make Shadow Dye, but it was only with smallest bit of help of the first wizard. Lloth had willed that the Kilanatlar house move up in rank. And that this invention would give them the chance to strike, tip the scales their way, and move then from 6th to 2nd. Mae'Vir was an unknown factor, albeit a tiny one. Just enough for Gulhrys to use for his advantage. Since then he had 'owned' the second wizard. All his research and discoveries belonged to Gulhrys. Gulhrys, cared not for most of them. He rather enjoyed more the power over his inferior.
Izzmurss spoke the few words and shimmering magic gathered in the air. An extra dimensional pocket opened allowing the second wizard, and only him, to grab the black vial. Reluctantly, he pulled it forth, the opening closing and the pocket gone. He looked to the bottle then to the older wizard. "May it serve you well," he grumbled out, translated, in his mind- 'may you choke on it.' "Our deal is done."
Gulhrys laughed, clearly mocking him, "My my. You have no grounds in which to state the terms. Need I remind you?" laughing again. "You amuse me. Elsewise I might would have removed your pompous butt long ago."
Every one higher up in station had to work to remain there. Removing any threats as soon as possible. And those below pulled down and killed off those above for their place. That was the drow way.
Izzmurss remained stoic and silent; his eyes, if they could burn holes, would have right then and there. Gulhrys finished with asserting his status and position, dismissed the second wizard. Izzmurss turned on his heels and exited the room quickly and quietly.
That's when the smirk creased his beautiful elven features.
******
In a blink of an eye, a thin read line appeared on the slave's throat followed by a gush of blood pouring and spraying the girl. Gasp of final breaths the body was allowed to drop to the floor. Blood spilling out in a gush forming swirling red paths on the black floor flowing twords the depression. Cheers of victory rang out among the gathered house and praises to Lloth along with shouts for the death to all their surface cousins.
She looked down, her hands and arms cover in warm red liquid. When Zarae registered what she had done, she tried to drop the bloody blade, but her hands refused to let go. The matriarch's laugh and following words were not even heard by Zarae who had watched the red sparkle of heat leave Averl's eyes. Nausea and sickness threatened to overwhelm her, adding to the already strange effects from the room.
Xullafay took the blade from her younger sister and raised it high in the air. All the house members stood up, the shouting intensifying and deafening. Matron Shyntyl placed a proud hand on her youngest daughter in the closest to a congratulatory manor before stepping away and disappearing from sight, followed by Xullafay. Nilrae, Rhylaun and Zebeycyrl exited next. Then suddenly chapel became a place of fleshly lust and physical delights of pure hedonism.
Nilrae stood dumbfounded and under the effects of the chapel, a mixture of horror and delight filling his own mind as he watched his sister and best friend slaughter the half elf. He had been caught up in the moment until realization struck him. Rhylaun had periodically looked to watch the drowling male's reaction. And knew the youngest boy was almost ready. Escaping the 'party' Nilrae walked solemnly up the stairs to the second floor. He stood at his twin's door, hand debating whether to check in on her. He had seen how she fled the chapel, how far spaced the blood splatter had been- all indicating her quick pace. His hand pulled away, kindness, care, and compassion were weak. Instead the boy entered his own room and plopped onto his cushioned bed.
Zarae, still covered in blood, ran out of the chapel, nearly knocking over anyone was in her way and rushed to her room. The door slammed as she fell back against it, sliding down to the floor. Wet liquid, not her own, stained the fabric she sat upon and dripped onto the floor. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes as sickness continued to assault her. Females didn't cry; they were the superior gender! Unable to hold it in, she hurried to her washroom and vomited into the chamberpot. It all came out, gushing lumps of green, yellow and orange. Her stomach emptied of its contents, Zarae climbed and sank into her wash tub full of cold water. Her face was pale and expression emotionless and empty as she felt. The water dyed red from Averl's blood. The drowling kept her nose just above the waterline and remained there.
Time lost meaning, her extremities growing numb. Even her shivering had begun to lessen. All she wanted to do was numb the feeling inside. Zarae closed her eyes and let herself sink lower. When her lungs screamed for air she lifted her head enough and breathed deeply. The events playing in her mind over and over. The look of Averl's face. The smile of evil escatsy lingered in the drowlings mind as Zarae saw the glee of her mother's approval. Again that same dark oppressive power fell over her. Hate and anger filled the girl's her mind as the pulling and tugging on her soul continued. Her eyes again turned amber. She was close to giving in, with words like betrayal pounding in her head. Caught up into this swarming darkness, she again slipped further under the blanket of water.
Underwater, Zarae didn't hear the bedroom door open. Didn't hear the soft footsteps of another. Eyes closed, she didn't see the dark face peer over the tub's edge. A hand reached down and grabbed the dress front and pull her forth from the water. Coughing Zarae was slow to open her eyes, seeing only a blur of who was yanking on her. Instead of fighting she just hung limp, not caring at the moment. The fire squelched.
Ladayiir pulled her out completely, not because of compassion or any care, but because if she was to allow anything to happen to the matron's daughter, the slave would forfeit her own life. It was a matter of preservation. Ladayiir wrapped the large fuzzy towel around the girl and set her on the marble floor. Grumbling to herself she pulled the vial she had stolen from the alchemy lab and yanked the cork out with her teeth. She had not intended to use it on this brat, but she had no choice now. Zarae didn't fight the blue liquid poured down her throat. A few sputters and coughs and the effects were immediate, healing any physical problems. Ladayiir stood up hovering over Zarae who was distant.
"You know the drill by now," the slave said annoyed, "I suggest you get moving. And change out of those wet clothes."
Ladayiir half expected the usual fight, was even surprised when the girl didn't smart off. Zarae sat up, resignation in her heart. Her hand pulled on the strings, loosening them enough to slip off everything wet. Wet clothes piled on the floor, she moved to the pile of long shirts randomly pulling one on top to slip over her head, followed by a pair of leggings. The slave piled the wet clothes into a basket and headed down to the clothing washroom. Zarae aimlessly headed twords the study for the inevitable day.
Zebeycyrl was getting her hair finished, the last loose strand pulled up into the elaborate braid. Holding the mirror up to check her handmaids work, she nodded approvingly. The door opened to the youngest sister, wet hair dripping and tangled, dressed in wrinkled clothing, partially soaked now. Zebeycyrl dismissed the handmaid and turned in her chair.
"Early? That is a first," looking suspiciously over the girl.
Yet even Zebeycyrl had noticed a change in the drowlings demeanor. Zarae still said nothing, keeping her eyes, which were their normal color, downcast, almost submissively. Zebeycyrl stood up, dusting herself off and headed over to the desk, dropping the unholy tome. Two purple candles were lit followed by incense. Zarae shivered that same chill as last time ran down her spine. Only this time the calling was stronger and more forceful. The loss of her blood-innocence had weakened any resolve or resistance she had before. All she had from stopping her from giving in was apathy at the moment. Zebeycyrl watched, curious, also expecting some sarcasm or smart-mouthing; and again, none was forthcoming. Zarae hesitantly opened the tome and stared at the words. Zebeycyrl nodded her approval and left the girl alone, locking the door behind her. To a casual observer, it appeared as if she was actually reading the text. But all she did was stare at the script, her mind still miles away. She continued to see last night's events play out in her head. How her hand held the sacrificial blade. Her hand made the strike, willingly.
And then she remembered how it felt in that moment or at least thought she did. The youngest daughter only wanted approval of her mother, what daughter wouldn't. How crushed and disillusioned she had become to hear Averl's so called betrayel. Zarae closed her eyes, feeling blood on her hands again. The rush of adrenaline pounding through her veins from such a clean and effective fatal blow. The thrill of ending an enemy. How easy it had been. Happiness, power, control over life and death. All those promises of the Spider Queen just at her fingertips, and all she had to do was reach out for it. The smell of the incense and candles stopped bothering her nose and became pleasant.
The room again filled with magic. Zarae opened her eyes, orbs that were dark amber. About to read the first lines, the script becoming clear as she focused, the drowling saw something else in the room catch her attention. Her eyes returned to their normal maroon, the room again stinking of the inscence. The lost of focus, the page's script returned to indecipherable words. Getting up off the stool, yet no bounce in her still apathetic step, the drowling walked over to the bookshelf. A small chest the size of a jewelry box, made of silver, had caught the light of the candle and reflected into her eyes. It was partially covered with velvet cloth, and only by luck or divine intervention had allowed her to notice. Grabbing her stool to climb upon, Zarae stood atop it to reach the top shelf. She maintained her balance leaning and reaching up for it. In hand she hopped down and sat studying the small box. About to toss it aside not caring, a small fire reawoke in her, and curiosity took over. Hesitant fingers reached for the lever to open.
The stench was horrible, a partially preserved finger sat on top. Beneath, was a bundle of soft fabric. Inside this was a mithril chain. Moving everything aside and pulling out the necklace, the end held a small sword pendent. The metal was adamantine and mithril, a beautifully crafted piece of dark and light colored metals. Pulling it closer she was able to see even more of the details that went into this pendent; tiny drow script, yet unable to be read considering its size. Other shapes and designs covered the other side. Shapes vaguely familiar. Surrounding the necklace was magical energy, yet this was different from anything in the house. Zarae unable to resist temptation pocketed the piece before continuing to search the box. A key chain was situated at the bottom. Picking it up, it seamed like nothing special. No magic, no power. Just simple steel keys. Reason dictated it was important if it had been stored with the necklace. The drowling quickly pulled one key off and pocketed it with the rest of her cache of goods. Then she closed the box and returned it to its proper place, including covering it up then hurried over to the desk again. Zarae look back at the tome, but again apathy overtook her and she just sat their staring into space. She opened it, flipping mindlessly through the pages, yet seeing none of it.
The rest of her time was spent dwelling on last night again; so distracted and caught up in the emptiness and pain, she didn't hear the door unlock nor the hated sister enter. Zebeycyrl looked at Zarae who maintained a lost in thought empty daze that she'd never seen on the girl before. She cleared her throat, Zarae not even jumping at the startle. The drowling looked at her then back down to the desk. Zebeycyrl just rolled her eyes and told the girl to get lost, slamming the tome closed. Zarae got up slowly and exited the room, her head downcast and closed the door quietly behind her. Down to her room and onto her bed.
A few hours later, a soft knock sounded, the coded knock of her twin. However, Zarae only rolled over as Nilrae continued. Then the soft scrap of the door scooting clothing followed by a whisper calling her. Nilrae spotted his sister, closing the door behind him and rushing over to her bedside.
"You sick?"
"No."
"Dying?"
"No. please leave me be."
"What is wrong with you?"
Zarae just covered her head with the blanket, Nilrae staring at her in disbelief.
"Well, you know what," pulling on the covers, "either you give in, become like Zeb, or you suck it up and move on," he stated matter-of-factly. "But this is not my sister here right now. She wouldn't be so…." Not sure of the word to use. "So what! You killed her. She was a slave, a faerie elf. Big deal. You didn't care about the others the same way. You let the half orc get killed, the goblin. Who knows who else you cause to be punished. Your problem was you got attached. And someone saw that. So what we do, is this…"
Zarae was only half listening. Something Nilrae said had triggered a line of thought. Someone used this against her. Turned her own ally on her, or so she was beginning to believe. Drows were to never allow it to happen. In fact as the superior race, they were the ones who cut ties when a beneficial 'partnership' was no longer useful. Someone made Averl betray her. Maybe she was right to kill the elf? But now she had to find who else was at the root of this and get her revenge. Revenge- it burned in her mind. This was not the revenge she was known for. No, it would not be mean pranks, or cruel jokes. She would make them suffer. Anger, just like last night began to boil inside her. The same tug again began pulling on her soul, the same call she had been feeling for nearly two days. That feminine voice whispering in her ear. Only this time it couldn't have been her mother.
Nilrae stopped, beginning to realize she wasn't listening. He stopped tugging on the covers, and jumped up onto the bed. Then pushed to roll her twords the wall her bed was next to. The cover came off, Zarae sat up, her crimson orbs boring into Nilrae. He jumped down and back off, realizing quickly that color. Only he didn't believe it was directed at him. Or he hoped it wasn't.
"I will kill her... I will make her suffer," her voice cold and emotionless, determined.
"That's the spirit! Tho I get to help," he replied causally, hopping up onto the bed again, dangling his feet and kicking them into the side of the frame. "Besides, you look weird with normal hair."
Both sat quietly for a long time before Nilrae too restless to sit around got up and left. But not before stopping at the door to look back at his sister. The sister he was beginning to not recognize anymore. With a sad sigh he closed the door and entered his room. He always knew their bond would not last forever. For he was a male, and she would be a priestess if the Matron Mother had it her way; or she would be sacrificed for her disgrace. Sooner or later he would his sister to their merciless deity.