Chapter VII
"Tonight," Aniyia said, smiling brightly. "The ceremony will be tonight."
"Tonight?" Sapek echoed. Had the time passed to quickly? It seemed like yesterday Nevina had been born....
"Yes," Aniyia replied, "tonight. The moon is full and everything has been prepared. The ceremony will take place after dark."
Dessaven grinned, unable to hold back her happiness. Baby Nevina was in her husband's arms, but he glanced up away from the baby to look at Aniyia.
"Will everything go alright?" he asked, worry lining his voice like lace. "I'm-"
"You're a nervous parent," Aniyia fussed and Dessaven smiled again, her full lips curving upward. Sapek was silent, but he flushed in embarrassment.
"Of course everything will go alright," Aniyia went on happily. "It's just a ceremony for a newborn. It's been done long before our time and will continue to be done."
Sapek nodded although he held Nevina more closely in his arms. "What is there to be done to prepare?"
Aniyia waved her hand, brushing away the question. "Be happy. Your friends and I have nearly prepared everything. Enjoy the day; the sun is shining and the weather-"
"Thank you, Aniyia," Sapek interrupted, the baby stretching in his arms. Nevina woke with a start and began wailing. Aniyia smiled, and catching her unsaid cue, left them alone.
"So tonight Nevina becomes one of us," Dessaven hummed as Sapek handed the baby to her.
"Tonight she does," her husband agreed. He glanced up at the sky and scowled. "I hope it doesn't rain."
"It won't," Dessaven assured him pleasantly. She arranged Nevina, who had stopped crying, in her lap.
"And why are you so certain?" Sapek asked teasingly.
Dessaven glanced up at the sky. "The gods won't ruin Nevina's day."
*** *** ***
The surface. It was never a terribly pleasant place to be for the drow-the sun burned their eyes and the hatred for their sun-cousins ached them to no end. Or so it was for normal dark elves. Zaknafein remembered the last time he had come to the surface, not long after his graduation from the Melee- Magthere. He remembered the battle against the surface-dwellers, and he remembered the glorious sight of a rainbow as he had left.
With a numbing sort of realization, Zaknafein suddenly came to understand that he had no feelings of hatred for his surface kin. If anything, he had an odd sort of envy that filled him with longing.
But those were the sort of feelings and emotions that Zaknafein had trained himself well to hide. Instead of a desperate look for freedom on his face, Zak stoically trudged up the large mound of earth to look at the tribe of humans below.
They had reached their camp late in the night, after traveling on the surface for many days. Some drow had already begun to complain about the sun in their journey, and so it was good that they came across the merchant caravan when they did. The raid that would take place this night would definitely please Lloth.
"They are unprepared and defenseless," a young drow said at Zak's side. The weapons-master turned his head, looking to see who was speaking.
His lips thinned. The drow was young; he must have just graduated from the Melee-Magthere. A lesser house, Zaknafein warranted by the looks of him. He thought a moment, searching his mind for a name to accompany the boy's face, but none came.
"I was told we would strike at dusk, sir," he continued, hardly seeming to notice Zak's lack of response. "Is it true?"
"It's true," Zaknafein had to admit. He knew that his voice was stiff; he hoped the drow beside him didn't notice.
Apparently it went through his mind without a single thought. "Good," he spat darkly, "it's time we teach them."
Zak did not reply. He turned without another word and climbed down the hill, wandering out of sight.
Of course the people were unprepared! Zak thought bitterly. This was a drow raiding party, not a band of fools. Why would the humans there even consider dark elves? Rarely did raiding parties come to the surface-it was just bad fortune for the people to be caught by the drow.
But they can do nothing now, Zak pondered sadly. We have already spotted them and they cannot possibly get away. Tonight blood will be spilled and they will be the ones to die.
"Zaknafein!" a voice called melodically. Zak turned to the sound of his name and saw a drow waving for him to come.
"Battle preparations already," Zak muttered remorsefully as a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the blazing heat. Silent, Zaknafein walked back to his fellow drow-his fellow raiders and killers.
*** *** ***
She was oblivious to the chanting, even though the words came from her own mouth. She didn't even see the mist gliding through the room, although it was nearly choking her. Her eyes were glazed and she was perfectly still, except for her mouth. She spoke words she barely knew, her trance too deep to be penetrated.
Her chanting grew louder, breaking free of the monotone. Her voice flitted around the octaves, a sing-song sound like bells in a morning breeze. The smoke seemed to grow darker and the fires in the brazier flared higher, well over the height of a man.
Her voice grew louder and louder! She was screaming now and her throat was beginning to burn, but still her chanting continued. She couldn't break the spell now. Not after all she had gone through.
"Vengeance!" she cried out, a word in the Common tongue that she did not know. "Power! Glory!" The words fell like raindrops from her mouth. There was no stopping them, even if she tried!
"Peace-breaker!" she screamed, pain in her voice. "Havoc-maker! Make me your vessel!"
Suddenly time stopped and everything was still. There was no cackling of the fire, no chanting, no breathing. Time stopped and there was nothing.
But the nothing was worse than the chanting and fire. Pain wrapped around her, twisting her mind, running through her veins like poison. She felt death calling to her, beckoning her closer.
But she refused the call. The drow held onto the spell, her mind screaming in fear and agony. This spell was beyond her! She wouldn't survive!
It is almost complete, a small voice sneered in the back of her mind. Hang on to the spell, weakling.
And then the explosion came. There was no noise to accompany the blast, but it happened still the same. The sorceress was thrown back, slammed against the back wall. Ripples ran through the air like waves; echoes flooded through Menzoberranzan, through Ched Nasad, through the entire Underdark.
The fires in the brazier died, flashing a deep purple before disappearing into nothingness.
The drow priestess smiled, slowly coming out of her daze. She planted her hands firmly on the floor as she propped herself up weakly. She blinked a few times, and steadied herself. It seemed like she had been in her trance for days, although she knew without a doubt it had only been a matter of hours.
The first step has been finished, the voice in her mind went on.
She had passed!
Her smile broke into a grin. She was a vessel of the Dark Lady now. There would be no stopping her.
Soon, she thought, leaning against the back wall weakly, it will be mine. I will have the power to destroy and create. I'll have the strength to raise armies at my very whim.
Or, she added wickedly, destroy them.
Soon, she thought, the MoonCrest will be mine.
_________________________________________
Dear Deplorable Minions,
No, Jarlaxle has not been drugged, and no, he is not under and magical spells. =P Jarlaxle is simply Jarlaxle. I know that last chapter left you all in sort a cliffhanger there. It was meant to leave you with questions - I think it worked.
Have no fear! Those questions will be answered (for the most part) in the next one or two chapters. So, in other words, no answers will be given out here. =P Be patient.
I am sorry I never had a chance to update this past week. I was on vacation and fresh out of internet-access. I did however plan what was going to happen in the next few chapters. You people are going to kill me. =P
~Aithne, TheBladedancer
PS-Thanks again to all my reviews. It means a lot and I appreciate every single one. (Chichix, of course I care what you write!! You are a great writer so have faith in your work - doubting yourself is just not healthy. =P)
PPS-Excuse the formality of the letter - er, somewhat. My computer/fanfiction site is acting up and apostrophes and some special characters are going wild.
"Tonight," Aniyia said, smiling brightly. "The ceremony will be tonight."
"Tonight?" Sapek echoed. Had the time passed to quickly? It seemed like yesterday Nevina had been born....
"Yes," Aniyia replied, "tonight. The moon is full and everything has been prepared. The ceremony will take place after dark."
Dessaven grinned, unable to hold back her happiness. Baby Nevina was in her husband's arms, but he glanced up away from the baby to look at Aniyia.
"Will everything go alright?" he asked, worry lining his voice like lace. "I'm-"
"You're a nervous parent," Aniyia fussed and Dessaven smiled again, her full lips curving upward. Sapek was silent, but he flushed in embarrassment.
"Of course everything will go alright," Aniyia went on happily. "It's just a ceremony for a newborn. It's been done long before our time and will continue to be done."
Sapek nodded although he held Nevina more closely in his arms. "What is there to be done to prepare?"
Aniyia waved her hand, brushing away the question. "Be happy. Your friends and I have nearly prepared everything. Enjoy the day; the sun is shining and the weather-"
"Thank you, Aniyia," Sapek interrupted, the baby stretching in his arms. Nevina woke with a start and began wailing. Aniyia smiled, and catching her unsaid cue, left them alone.
"So tonight Nevina becomes one of us," Dessaven hummed as Sapek handed the baby to her.
"Tonight she does," her husband agreed. He glanced up at the sky and scowled. "I hope it doesn't rain."
"It won't," Dessaven assured him pleasantly. She arranged Nevina, who had stopped crying, in her lap.
"And why are you so certain?" Sapek asked teasingly.
Dessaven glanced up at the sky. "The gods won't ruin Nevina's day."
*** *** ***
The surface. It was never a terribly pleasant place to be for the drow-the sun burned their eyes and the hatred for their sun-cousins ached them to no end. Or so it was for normal dark elves. Zaknafein remembered the last time he had come to the surface, not long after his graduation from the Melee- Magthere. He remembered the battle against the surface-dwellers, and he remembered the glorious sight of a rainbow as he had left.
With a numbing sort of realization, Zaknafein suddenly came to understand that he had no feelings of hatred for his surface kin. If anything, he had an odd sort of envy that filled him with longing.
But those were the sort of feelings and emotions that Zaknafein had trained himself well to hide. Instead of a desperate look for freedom on his face, Zak stoically trudged up the large mound of earth to look at the tribe of humans below.
They had reached their camp late in the night, after traveling on the surface for many days. Some drow had already begun to complain about the sun in their journey, and so it was good that they came across the merchant caravan when they did. The raid that would take place this night would definitely please Lloth.
"They are unprepared and defenseless," a young drow said at Zak's side. The weapons-master turned his head, looking to see who was speaking.
His lips thinned. The drow was young; he must have just graduated from the Melee-Magthere. A lesser house, Zaknafein warranted by the looks of him. He thought a moment, searching his mind for a name to accompany the boy's face, but none came.
"I was told we would strike at dusk, sir," he continued, hardly seeming to notice Zak's lack of response. "Is it true?"
"It's true," Zaknafein had to admit. He knew that his voice was stiff; he hoped the drow beside him didn't notice.
Apparently it went through his mind without a single thought. "Good," he spat darkly, "it's time we teach them."
Zak did not reply. He turned without another word and climbed down the hill, wandering out of sight.
Of course the people were unprepared! Zak thought bitterly. This was a drow raiding party, not a band of fools. Why would the humans there even consider dark elves? Rarely did raiding parties come to the surface-it was just bad fortune for the people to be caught by the drow.
But they can do nothing now, Zak pondered sadly. We have already spotted them and they cannot possibly get away. Tonight blood will be spilled and they will be the ones to die.
"Zaknafein!" a voice called melodically. Zak turned to the sound of his name and saw a drow waving for him to come.
"Battle preparations already," Zak muttered remorsefully as a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the blazing heat. Silent, Zaknafein walked back to his fellow drow-his fellow raiders and killers.
*** *** ***
She was oblivious to the chanting, even though the words came from her own mouth. She didn't even see the mist gliding through the room, although it was nearly choking her. Her eyes were glazed and she was perfectly still, except for her mouth. She spoke words she barely knew, her trance too deep to be penetrated.
Her chanting grew louder, breaking free of the monotone. Her voice flitted around the octaves, a sing-song sound like bells in a morning breeze. The smoke seemed to grow darker and the fires in the brazier flared higher, well over the height of a man.
Her voice grew louder and louder! She was screaming now and her throat was beginning to burn, but still her chanting continued. She couldn't break the spell now. Not after all she had gone through.
"Vengeance!" she cried out, a word in the Common tongue that she did not know. "Power! Glory!" The words fell like raindrops from her mouth. There was no stopping them, even if she tried!
"Peace-breaker!" she screamed, pain in her voice. "Havoc-maker! Make me your vessel!"
Suddenly time stopped and everything was still. There was no cackling of the fire, no chanting, no breathing. Time stopped and there was nothing.
But the nothing was worse than the chanting and fire. Pain wrapped around her, twisting her mind, running through her veins like poison. She felt death calling to her, beckoning her closer.
But she refused the call. The drow held onto the spell, her mind screaming in fear and agony. This spell was beyond her! She wouldn't survive!
It is almost complete, a small voice sneered in the back of her mind. Hang on to the spell, weakling.
And then the explosion came. There was no noise to accompany the blast, but it happened still the same. The sorceress was thrown back, slammed against the back wall. Ripples ran through the air like waves; echoes flooded through Menzoberranzan, through Ched Nasad, through the entire Underdark.
The fires in the brazier died, flashing a deep purple before disappearing into nothingness.
The drow priestess smiled, slowly coming out of her daze. She planted her hands firmly on the floor as she propped herself up weakly. She blinked a few times, and steadied herself. It seemed like she had been in her trance for days, although she knew without a doubt it had only been a matter of hours.
The first step has been finished, the voice in her mind went on.
She had passed!
Her smile broke into a grin. She was a vessel of the Dark Lady now. There would be no stopping her.
Soon, she thought, leaning against the back wall weakly, it will be mine. I will have the power to destroy and create. I'll have the strength to raise armies at my very whim.
Or, she added wickedly, destroy them.
Soon, she thought, the MoonCrest will be mine.
_________________________________________
Dear Deplorable Minions,
No, Jarlaxle has not been drugged, and no, he is not under and magical spells. =P Jarlaxle is simply Jarlaxle. I know that last chapter left you all in sort a cliffhanger there. It was meant to leave you with questions - I think it worked.
Have no fear! Those questions will be answered (for the most part) in the next one or two chapters. So, in other words, no answers will be given out here. =P Be patient.
I am sorry I never had a chance to update this past week. I was on vacation and fresh out of internet-access. I did however plan what was going to happen in the next few chapters. You people are going to kill me. =P
~Aithne, TheBladedancer
PS-Thanks again to all my reviews. It means a lot and I appreciate every single one. (Chichix, of course I care what you write!! You are a great writer so have faith in your work - doubting yourself is just not healthy. =P)
PPS-Excuse the formality of the letter - er, somewhat. My computer/fanfiction site is acting up and apostrophes and some special characters are going wild.
