Ok people. This is an idea I've had this idea for a while, ever since I read Exile. So read it, tell me what you think and all that. I felt the need to go in and fix some punctuality mistakes and repost this so if I missed anything please tell me.
I literally own nothing.
Boyscouts and twins not counting)
Body and Soul:
The long silver line of the thin blade flickering in the dim light: what beauty it had. It was strength. It was power. There were no questions at the edge of the blade. The blade did what he wanted, and only what he wanted. The blade cut through the darkness, the lies, and the evil. Granted, the only thing behind all of that was the dark abyss still surrounding him. The dark abyss that had penetrated him, consumed him… at least his blades cut down the small annoyances.
His soul was in his blades, his true soul. His blades were his heart and his mind. His blades were everything he could not be. His blades asked no questions and took no compromises. His blades were an extension of his arms: violent powerful extensions. He lived in his blades, in his skill, his pure undiluted skill. He believed in his skill, could not fight if he did not believe. He relished the kill, to have a chance to kill those he hated, the ideals he hated.
His own death was a release: freedom. No more lies, no more hate, just sweet darkness and then, out of it, a dim light. Beautiful music in the distance – singing... flickering light and shadow, light that didn't hurt his eyes, soft silver light and soft colors. He was in peace, and joy, and – pain…
His body shuddered: air rushing through his dead lungs. He was caught on the edge, stuck in the darkness, but he could sense the light. He so wanted to be there, to go back. But Matron Malice was there, holding him, controlling him. A small rush of joy came through the weak link from his body as he killed the sacrifice. He could hear Matron Malice's voice echoing through the darkness, ordering him to search, to hunt, to kill.
So he went. He wandered through the Underdark searching for the drow with purple eyes. He used his expert tracking skills to follow the animal-like trail. His Body used all the cruel skill and precision that he had had in life, but his Soul was not in it. His Soul was at the edge of the abyss, gazing longingly at the flickering light of the campfires and straining to hear the distant singing and laughter of the souls that were already free.
The purple-eyed drow was traveling with a companion. He found their camp and tore it apart. The ease with which this drow eluded him angered him. He wanted to find him and kill him so he could leave the abyss and go exist with the lighthearted dancers.
Somewhere it occurred to him that he didn't really want to hurt the purple-eyed drow. One of his connections among the living… But he had never enjoyed living. The living connections had been hard and cruel. But, it was Drizzt, wasn't it, the purple-eyed drow. Zak's body stopped in the dark tunnel. –Drizzt- that name had been a spot of light in life, a kindred... but Matron Malice invaded his mind, pushed away his memories away, he thought for a moment that this was his release, but no. He still hadn't completed his task. The purple-eyed drow was still alive.
He fought the purple-eyed drow. But his enemy wasn't really fighting back. Zak's blades were swift and cruel, driven by Matron Malice, but he wasn't really trying, this drow enemy did not require his true skill, and his friend was dragging him away besides.
At the Ilithids' city, he knew he was close. The purple-eyed drow was prominent in all the mind-readers thoughts and so he killed them mercilessly, just because he was angry. His Soul had been free, and now it was once again trapped by the Body's chains. He killed his way across the square moving effortlessly toward the purple-eyed drow. He saw recognition on the drow's face and something else, but it was foreign to Malice and so she made him ignore it.
Zak fought, and the drow implored him, begged him to stop fighting. Malice laughed gleefully, and for a moment, her concentration faltered. Zak paused, Drizzt had truly been fighting to preserve his life, and Malice had needed to draw more and more on the Soul of Zaknafein, though she only thought it was his skill, and now, Zak could see his son clearly.
He tried to speak, but only animalistic sounds emerged, he had been dead and dumb too long to communicate his fondest wishes. (Run). But Drizzt only lowered his weapons and came toward him. (Run). Matron Malice returned, swift and brutal, and with a roar of pain and fury Zak raised his swords and threw himself at the son of his Body and Soul. Somehow, the purple-eyed drow escaped. So, Zak stalked. He set up a trap and lay in wait.
Drizzt's skill was amazing. Malice could not beat him with the small knowledge she had of the Weapons Master's skill, but Drizzt's skill sparked something in Zak, he knew how to counter him, and so Matron Malice gave him more control.
His blade was an extension of his Soul not just his Body. Just as it had always been in life, Drizzt could tell the difference. He fought harder, pushed him. It was the old trick; his son thought he had the skill and knowledge to beat him. Zak almost smiled. But Malice was there, screaming commands. Drizzt was smiling and talking to him just like, just like…
This move he knew, and as he moved in for the attack, he was Zaknafein Do'urden, famed Weapons Master. Malice still held his leash, but as Zak's blades came down on Drizzt's crossed scimitars, Drizzt brought his foot up and kicked Zak in the chest, making both the Body and Matron Malice jerk back in shock. His blades were his Soul. Matron Malice had severely miscalculated because Zaknafein's blades would not betray his Soul's wishes, and even though the distant firelight flickered beyond the abyss, his true son was before him, pleading for him to hear him. And then he saw the way, the way to freedom for them both.
He walked slowly to the fire-lit circle, still uncertain of his welcome. Behind him, on the plain he had just left, he knew that his son also walked toward a circle of light. The light of love and friendship that Zaknafein had never known. Drizzt would know all of it. He would struggle, he would feel pain, but, the circle was there, waiting for him.
Zak stopped outside the circle of elf-souls and gazed longingly in. The backs he faced turned and he was assaulted with a myriad of smiling faces. They reached for him, laughing. He was pulled to the center of the circle, and before him… He felt naked; he knew that this beautiful white creature had seen all of his actions in life. Surely he didn't belong here; this was all a mistake. The color of his skin was proof of that. But she smiled at him, and there was laughter in her luminous eyes.
She touched the ground at his feet with her silver horn.
'I have been waiting for you Zaknafein Do'urden. You have come home.'
No more questions, no more doubt: just beauty, and light, and joy.
But, most of all, love.
Tell me what you think. (Or if I screwed something up)