Author's Note: For skywiseskychan.
Moonlight streamed down in silver beams on the small glade in the late-spring woods, coming to fall on silky grass flattened in patterns by dancing feet. A burbling stream that reflected back the light coursed through on one side on its ceaseless rout from the Spine of the World to the sea where it raged at the shores of the Sword Coast. Crickets hummed on every side. The flutes and soft music that had accompanied the music of the natural world—muted, always muted here—had come to an end. Now a small conference was taking place, with Alassëa at its head. The small moon elf was like a statue of smooth alabaster, her dark hair braided and curled around one shoulder to fall down her front. She was dressed in a silk robe at the moment, but that supposed lack of armor was deceptive when the person who seemed vulnerable was actually a powerful cleric. "Something is pulling their attention here. If we want to survive, Khaless, we have to find out whatever it is and take it from here."
Her friend sighed. Even after five years of stealing away to the surface, Khaless Dryaalis was not really prepared to handle elven innocence. The female drow curled a lock of her snow white hair around one dark finger. Unlike the others here, she was still in her armor. The leather was dyed dark to match the night and moved without a sound. A blood red silk mask covered her face below her eyes, mostly concealing her nature. Combined with a deep hood, it allowed her to move through the woods at night with less fear of being detected. "It's not that simple."
And it wasn't, not standing here amidst Eilistraee's devotees. She was the only full-blooded drow in the party, though she had met two others in her lifetime who were more bold on the surface than she was. For the most part, Khaless tried to stay in the caves and tunnels beneath the ground where the sunlight could never touch her. She hadn't dared to stay and see a dawn or come so early she could see dusk, no matter how gently Alassëa coaxed her. She was still drow, after all. And even though Menzoberranzan was weeks beneath, that did not make her feel safe. After all, she was a scout for the city and she still made regular trips into the vicinity of the cave mouth.
Corellon's followers, mostly sun and wood elves, had a temple not far away. It was one of the reasons Alassëa and Rûdhon had chosen this place to meet for the general feeling of safety it engendered. Khaless had always grimaced when they said they felt safe and argued that there was no place safe from the agents of Lloth. They'd taken her paranoia in stride. Rûdhon was being surprisingly quiet at the moment, however. He was an old elf, old enough to be even Khaless's grandfather. His hair had always been silver so it was hard to tell how he'd aged, but worry had etched its lines into his face. "Khaless has a point," he said gently. He and Alassëa had been better to the drowess than she herself thought she deserved, filling roles as both friend and guide. "We cannot rely upon Lloth's followers to ignore us while they chase their prize. But that said, anything we could do to reduce the risk would be beneficial. Someone needs to convince the priests of Corellon to move it."
"I tried speaking to them..." Alassëa said, but it trailed off into a soft sigh. Around them, the others were getting dressed and packing up to return to their homes.
"And they were as obliging as ever, I take it," Khaless muttered darkly.
Alassëa gave her a stern, if gentle, look. "Khaless, how many times have we told you? You cannot move forward into the light if you still cling to your resentment of it."
"Goddess knows I'm trying," the drowess said, combing her fingers through her loose hair. It framed her dark face and seemed to bring out deep, ruby eyes, then fell down to her shoulders. "You're the one who told me that we cannot even tell them I'm here or it would spark a panic."
"Khal, you must admit that you do look intimidating," Rûdhon said, gesturing to her. Patterns of webs were embossed on her armor in smoked adamantine. The clasps were formed to look like spiders grasping the other piece of metal. If you added into that the fact that it was being worn by a masked drow armed to the teeth, it did look rather ominous. "Which reminds me. There's something more important we need to talk about."
"Involving me or ominous drow in general?" Khaless said a little brusquely as she buckled on her belt with its quiver of arrows and long knives. She liked being an archer, hiding in the shadows and moving soundlessly after her quarry. Certainly, the drow as a whole preferred crossbows, but she could shoot much faster and with more accuracy this way with an equal lack of sound. There was no mechanism to have to silence, after all. It did mean she had to craft her own arrows and she made many trips to the surface to collect feathers for fletching, but with her inclinations that was hardly a problem.
"Both," he said before elaborating, smoothing out his own robes. He was a powerful sorcerer, so he was equally dangerous unarmed. Khaless envied them for that. "We believe the elves in the area have become aware of drow activity in the area. They are likely frightened and thus quite hostile. It would be better for you to avoid their patrols if you are going to remain on the surface with us for any period of time. We can always hide you."
Khaless slipped her boot knives back in, one with the head of a serpent for a pommel and the other of a tiger—they were gifts from Alassëa, who'd come by them from far to the south during one of her flights of fancy that took her adventuring. It happened now and again. The last time she'd tried to drag Khaless with her, but the drow had dug in her heels. She didn't like the idea of being on the surface for more than a night. People would miss her in Menzoberranzan if she was gone for too long. "Maybe I'll stay next time," she said, just like she always did. Not once had she stayed.
"We understand," Alassëa said gently, watching her friend compose herself to head back down into the tunnels. "If there's enough of a whisper, however, it might draw one of Shevarash's disciples."
"You say that name as if I should know it by now," Khaless said, picking up her unstrung bow. It had a powerful draw, but was well crafted enough that it didn't make a sound when it was drawn. She ran her thumb over the smooth cherry wood that had never been polished, only oiled to keep the moisture out. It wouldn't reflect a hint of light. The arrows were equally muted, dark shafts and long, tapered bodkin heads of smoked adamantine with grey goose-feather fletchings.
"It's one of the dangers for a drow on the surface. As far as the disciples of the Black Archer are concerned, the only good drow is a dead drow," Rûdhon said. He sensed Khaless's anger even though she didn't voice a word of it or even let it play across her expression. "You have to understand that they were born out of righteous fury after the surface raids. Survivors who had nothing left of their loved ones but tortured bodies. Vengeance is something surely you can understand."
"The hate does run both ways," Khaless said thoughtfully, her anger slowly subsiding. Yes, she understood. She had always thought of elves as so much kinder and more gentle than drow. It was somewhat reassuring to run across things that she found familiar, like revenge and hatred and cruelty. Not pleasant, of course, but they were at least understandable. "They do not extend a protection to the followers of Eilistraee, then?"
"No," the sorcerer said, picking up his staff from where it was lying on the ground.
"What more do we have to do?" she said, frustration clear in her tone. She strung her bow without thinking, almost like she knew there was trouble in her future.
"Khal, you're doing the right thing," Alassëa said, knowing it was time to reassure their drowess. Khaless could be so fragile sometimes. They understood—she was much more comfortable in her shell after a few centuries of drow life where any vulnerability would be exploited viciously and quite possibly lethally. It was nigh impossible for her to put herself out there, and so she tended to be very sensitive when she did. They'd had her growl and bite many a time, but she made a little progress every time. She'd even managed to come to trust two elves, though it had taken thirty years under the ground in the passages near the surface and five more on the surface.
"And what do I have to show for that?" Khal snapped. She regretted it as soon as she'd said it even though she knew they wouldn't hold it against her.
"You have friends," Alassëa reminded her gently. "And you have the peace that comes with knowing the words of the Dark Maiden. I wish there were more than that, but it is what it is."
"That's more than enough. I need to learn to watch my speech," Khaless said. She swept her hair back out of her face. "I need to go if I'm to make it back by morning. Haelra will notice my absence otherwise." She knew they didn't like to hear that there were drow so closed to the surface, but it was true. Her sister, damn her eyes, would hardly approve as a priestess of Lloth.
Rûdhon hugged her gingerly, knowing that the drow still didn't like to be touched much. She was as skittish as an alley cat used to having boots thrown at it. "Eilistraee watch over you. You walk far from the moonlight."
"But well," she assured him, awkwardly hugging him back before dropping her arm when he released her. Her other hand tightened a little on her bow as she took a step back and pulled up her hood. "Vedaust, both of you."
They never knew that they would see her again with the dangers of life in the Underdark, but both elves always hoped for the best. Rûdhon sighed a little as he watched her go. "I wish she would trust that we know what we're doing. I had hoped that her paranoia would have faded by now."
Alassëa shook her head. "She lives in that city still, my friend. She can't afford to drop her guard, not even here on the surface. Besides, with disciples of Shevarash in the area, paranoia is warranted. Nor should we drop our guard if there is a drow patrol so close to the surface. Discovery would mean death."
Khaless padded off into the night, melting into the shadows as she moved through the trees. She walked softly on the loam and fallen leaves, footfalls but a whisper of sound. It was here in the silence that she came into her own, whether above or beneath the ground. She was no ranger, but she had long ago become attuned to her environment to move with perfect stealth. It allowed her to strike and vanish with deceptive ease. The shadows were her home even on the surface. It was a mile or so back to the entrance to the Underdark that she'd taken, a cave hidden as a mere narrow crack in some stones that she could barely wedge herself through. It was a secret spot concealed on the other side as well as merely part of a cave-in. She had no illusion that she was the only one who knew it was there, but no drow patrol ever used it. She was always worried that someone might follow her all the same. One could only evade the fangs of the Demon Queen of Spiders for so long.
It was when she'd almost reached the entrance that she felt that chill run down her spine. She was not alone in the woods. Someone was on her trail, and she knew none of the others would have followed her. That spoke of something dangerous, perhaps another one of the company that had brought her so close to the surface. It was rare for one to come alone, but if Haelra had sent them they would be hard pressed to refuse...
Khaless did what few other drow would do. She slung her bow and found a tall, sturdy tree with thick foliage. Then she jumped, caught a low branch with both hands, and swung herself up like an acrobat. She climbed with the ease of someone used to scaling much more difficult rock walls and found a perch where she could see the forest floor. She drew an arrow out of her quiver and quickly treated the end with sleep poison from a small vial in a pouch on her belt along with some other poisons, each carefully put in their place. Then she tucked the vial back and unslung her bow, deftly drawing it back with the arrow nocked. She could hear the footfalls below across the stonier ground here. Occasionally her hunter hit a small pebble and sent it skittering across the rocks.
The figure came into view, a male wood elf with tanned skin and thick brown hair cut short. He was studying the ground, hunting for her tracks, with his own bow drawn. There was a flash of moonlight and her keen eyes caught sight of a symbol on the pauldron of his armor. It a black arrow broken over a teardrop. She didn't like the feeling it gave her. Was this a devotee of Shevarash come to end her life? That was not Corellon's symbol, though she knew the followers of the elven god would surely hunt her too if they came to know she was in the area. She drew the arrow back a little further and anchored it at her jaw, still watching. He hadn't even thought to look up. Khaless knew she could end his life for that slight lapse in his guard, capable of punching right through his armor. That was certainly the wisest course: bury an arrow up to its fletching in his heart and then finish him with her knife if he happened to cling to life for any length of time. In fact, that was her inclination.
She still hated surface elves with the passion of a true drow. She had just learned to make an exception for her friends—their word, not hers, for their relationship—through decades of practice and gentle disassembling of some of her walls. Alassëa called it the beginning of healing. With things like this, however, she tended to doubt the wisdom dispensed by the elves. But it made her hesitate. Was it right to kill this man on the mere suspicion that he was out to kill her? It should have been reason enough, certainly, but she couldn't quite bring herself to loose the arrow. Finally, she made her decision. Khaless lowered her aim and shot. The arrow hissed through the air and just grazed his side. Enough to draw blood and deliver the poison, but not enough to kill. She dropped a globe of darkness on his head, blinding him.
"You missed, drow!" he shouted. She could hear the anger and hate in his voice, recognizing her own demons in another.
"Perhaps you aren't aware of what I was aiming at, darthiir," she taunted back anyway before laughing, nocking another arrow. It was funny to hear that growing frustration, more so because he was flailing around. What had he been expecting? A fair fight? Had he even fought drow before? Either way, if he took a shot at her, he would be a dead man. But instead he seemed to be trying to escape from the darkness. By the time the spell flickered out, the poison was overtaking him. She swung down, unafraid. Khaless stalked forward as he drew his sword with fumbling fingers. She was hooded and masked, so there was no danger of being recognized.
The elf dropped to his knees and looked up at her. "Kill me, then," he slurred out.
She pulled her arrow up out of the earth and wiped the dirt from the tip against her thigh. Then she tapped his cheek with it gently. "Maybe next time. Sweet dreams,darthiir." With that, she nudged him over with her boot and he fell, unconscious by the time he hit the ground. An elf would find him, hopefully one of the followers of Eilistraee. They knew she was in the area already and wouldn't raise the alarm. Khaless regretted then leaving him alive, but when she looked down at his face, all the hatred gone from his expression now that sleep had smoothed over his features, she couldn't quite correct the mistake. He looked almost handsome in that strange, pale, surface elf way. What was he like around his own kin? What had brought him here, on this path? She crouched down next to his body and unhooked his cloak, rolling it up and gently putting it under his head.
He wore a glimmering silver and emerald ring on one hand, inscribed in elvish. It reminded her of Rûdhon's wedding ring. She was curious, but knew better than to touch it or take it. She tended not to loot even corpses for anything other than coin, and even then not on the surface. It would prompt too many questions if she spent too much strange money, gold or not. Khaless slid the arrow back into her quiver and turned, moving carefully to the cave entrance and obliterating any hints of a track behind her.
After that, it was a few hours before she rejoined the patrol she had been a part of, the soldiers all asleep. But Haelra was unfortunately awake along with the two males on watch. "Where have you been?" the priestess demanded, crossing her arms.
Khaless pushed her hood back and shook her white hair free. Then she pulled her mask down to show her face. She had no worries about being seen or recognized and no need to protect her face. The silk was enchanted to protect her from poison, always a threat with Underdark creatures. They were the reason she had so many interesting poisons herself, though she had added many from the surface that were rare in the Night Beneath if even known. "Scouting. Like you told me to."
"And that takes five hours?"
"Be grateful it didn't take six. You said you wanted me to be thorough," Khaless said irritably. If there was one thing she hated more than people trying to kill her, it was her older sister. It hadn't always been that way. Khaless remembered a time where she had almost been fond of the arrogant priestess. Certainly more respectful. That had all changed when she herself changed. Feeling out of place and nauseated by casual violence had never been the problem for Khaless, never the thing that drove her to Eilistraee. She had been as violent as every other drow. It wasn't enjoyable, necessarily, but it was just a part of life. She was a soldier for House Baenre still.
Until the destruction of House Kenafin, she had been a loyal follower of Lloth and never questioned the Spider Queen's mandates. But the things Haelra had made her do, the things she had seen done—there were things worse than simple killing. And she'd been a part of it all. She still woke up with nightmares and that was almost forty years ago. It was something that could never be undone or forgiven. The next step had come out in the Wilds on a long scouting mission.
Ethereal, perfect music wound through the tunnels to her, curling around her heart and tugging her that way. She'd followed it up and up and up, far further than a real singing voice could ever carry, to the surface where the stars and the brilliant moon shone down on her. But it hadn't hurt her eyes then. Instead, she'd spent what felt like hours staring up at the beautiful orb. Then someone—a drow woman with long hair—had tapped her shoulder from behind and vanished into the brush, laughing like silver bells. That was the beginning of her path to Eilistraee.
It was not, she was finding, an easy path to walk. Being with Haelra and the patrol, in the midst of her native world, the casual killing, it was all so comfortable. But the symbols of Lloth seemed to stare at her now, as if they knew. The priestesses were figures to avoid where possible. Even Menzoberranzan, though it would ever be her home, had lost the brilliant luster it once held for her. The ceaseless power games and clawing endlessly for more and more no longer held her interest. And it irritated Haelra to no end, her own power and thus that of the family squarely on her mind. Khaless had been dodging promotion like an expert so she wouldn't lose time out in the field where she could go to the surface. It had lead to many an argument.
"Are you trying to be impudent?" Haelra demanded, hand on her snake whip.
Khaless's smile was humorless. "It depends. Am I succeeding?"
"I should—" her sister started with murder in her eyes.
"Rest," the renegade interrupted. "You should rest. We both should. It's a long road back to Menzoberranzan and neither one of us wants to fall behind. It would look terrible, particularly since I'm on point."
Haelra looked like she was thinking about arguing, but then she gave her sister a curt nod. "This isn't over," the priestess murmured threateningly even as she headed over to her own bedroll. Khaless didn't dignify it with an answer, lying down. Out here, they needed to sleep in their armor with their weapons close at hand. Soon, she would be back in Menzoberranzan and under the cruel eyes of Lloth. But as she closed her eyes, she thought again of the elf in the woods. She had a definite feeling that he would be back.
Above, on the surface, morning had broken. Thalion groaned when someone started shaking him and opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming down through the green leaves, falling golden on his tan skin. His thoughts sluggishly took inventory of his surroundings, from the slim female moon elf looking down at him to the fact that his cloak was a pillow he didn't remember having to the fact that the drow was gone. Gone! He sat up quickly and felt an unpleasant rush through his head. "The drow, where is she?" he demanded.
"There are no drow in these woods, friend. Please, don't hurt yourself," his apparent rescuer said. There was a tall, old male elf with her, leaning on his staff. "I'm Alassëa and this is Rûdhon."
"Thalion Vanafindon," he greeted. "I was sent here by the priest of Shevarash. There is a drow in these woods. It isn't safe." He gritted his teeth as his memory returned. She'd laughed at him! It made his blood boil. One day, he would make her pay for that. His anger was so great that he missed the worried look that passed between the pair that had discovered him.
"Well, we can help you to a temple of Corellon," Rûdhon offered. "Alassëa and I know these woods quite well."
Thalion nodded and flashed them a smile. "That is appreciated, Rûdhon," he said, getting shakily to his feet. He still felt weak and cursed silently at the monster that had left him like this. The females were supposed to be more powerful and more dangerous, so clearly he had run into a true threat. But what nagged at him was why he was still breathing. Surely she had the opportunity to finish him off. Why hadn't she? Perhaps it was because she found it more amusing to let him live. Or maybe she wanted him to know that she'd escaped and enjoy the impotent rage that he felt in his veins.
"Come on," Alassëa said, steadying him. "You can lean on me a little until your strength in your legs comes back."
"What brings you here?" he asked.
"We come from a religious rite," Rûdhon explained as they walked towards Corellon's temple and the nearby elven village hidden in the forest. It was better to leave things vague considering the mixed feelings of Shevarash towards Eilistraee. The god of vengeance, as they had told Khaless, did not discriminate. It made things awkward for the elven and half-elven followers of Eilistraee.
"So you say your drow escaped?" Alassëa said, hopeful that their friend was unharmed.
"I could not even get a blow in," Thalion admitted reluctantly. "It was a cowardly ambush, but a skillful one. And the arrow was poisoned."
"You are fortunate, then, that it was not a lethal one," the priestess of Eilistraee said. She made a mental note to praise Khaless on her unusual restraint. Normally the drow would have probably shot him somewhere painful and left him to spend the night screaming. "If she is gone, there is nothing to fear."
Thalion looked at her like she was an idiot. "There may be more!" he hissed, wobbling a little. His steps were becoming steadily stronger, but they were far from perfect right now. He cursed mentally again. "Corellon's priests need to know. If there is a surface raid coming..."
"One drow does not a surface raid make," Rûdhon pointed out.
"But one drow does make a spy," Thalion countered. His mind was made up now and both of the moon elves sensed there was nothing they could do to make him change his mind. But what could they do besides show him to Corellon and make his own decision. They would just have to warn Khaless somehow.
Their drow friend was not going to like this.