Chapter X
They had been separated from all others who had been fleeing the drow, and now the woods was silent.
Aniyia dared to hope that they had broken free of the drow's sharp eyes and were at the moment safe. She stopped, her heart thudding in her chest as she sucked in gasps of air.
"Aniyia, where-"
"Shh, child," Aniyia whispered, brushing her hand through the young girl's hair. She knelt down and set the girl on the ground. When she stood, her hand sought the sturdy comfort of the tree, giving her support when she was so near to collapsing.
"Where are we going?" the girl asked, her voice low.
Aniyia smiled down at her. "To a safe place," she replied softly and soothingly. "To a place where the elves won't find us."
The girl seemed satisfied with the answer and questioned no more. She curled up into a tiny ball, still crying from the brutal killing of her mother.
Aniyia looked down at her with pity, knowing that one so young should never have to witness the cruelty that the drow brought on. She had been in the same position has the girl, had seen the same innocent blood spilt.
She knew that no one else should have to bear the same memories as she.
Aniyia looked around the tree, her old eyes searching for any drow that might be sneaking up on them. There was no one.
She sighed, relieved that maybe there was hope. Her eyes drifted down to the girl at her feet. They would make it to safety.
The crunch of a twig, snapping in the silence of the forest, was the only warning Aniyia got. The next thing she knew, pain exploded in her back, her chest burning in a livid heat.
Aniyia fell to the ground, feeling the essence of life pour from her, spilling onto the cold earth. The last thing she heard as her eyes went forever dark was the scream of the little girl, the scream of a promised death...the scream of a child.
*** *** ***
The two drow stopped when they saw Sapek turn and brandish a dagger. Evil sneers appeared on their faces, the bloodlust in their eyes suddenly replaced with something much darker...the sinister humor of the drow.
"He wants a fight," one of the drow observed. Sapek's nose crinkled at the words, spoken in such a foreign language. "Shall we give it to him, Jeaern?"
"We cannot disappoint such a valiant human," Jeaern snickered, his voice dripping in a mocking evil.
The first drow raised his blade before Sapek's eyes, holding it as if he were displaying a trophy.
"See the blood?" he asked, but Sapek did not understand the words that came out. The man could guess well enough what they meant.
He lunged forward, his small dagger, beating against the side of the drow's blade. He knew that there would be no winning for him, no pride of victory. He was doing this only to give Dessaven time to run, to escape the drow.
"Weakling," Jeaern scoffed. "Not even worthy of our time."
"Every kill pleases the Dark Lady," the first drow reminded him. "Let us make her proud to call us her children."
The two drow exchanged smiles, and Sapek winced at that more than the dark glint in their eyes.
Jeaern brought his sword in a loose attack, one he knew that the man could parry. His companion followed his lead, attacking slow, giving the human enough time to counter.
They are toying with you, a voice inside of Sapek laughed. They know that you will die. Give in and accept their mercy.
Drow mercy? another voice within him questioned.
"Never," Sapek growled under his breath. His foot soared out unexpectedly, slamming into the stomach of Jeaern. The drow fell back, losing his balance.
"Kill him!" Jeaern ordered loudly, his face flushing in embarrassment. He had let his confidence best him, and it the attack had wounded his pride. He would not tolerate the man to live a second more.
The drow's sword easily batted Sapek's dagger aside and before the man could bring it back to block the dark elf's weapon, it had plunged deep into his stomach, nearly to the hilt.
Sapek went to scream, but his he choked back the words. The last thing Sapek saw was Jeaern standing above him, anger pulsing in his eyes. The drow feet moved away, heading towards his helpless wife and baby.
*** *** ***
Zaknafein watched from the edge of the forest as the man dropped to the ground in death. He felt no remorse over the dead man. In fact, he didn't feel much of anything.
The blood of his blades still stained his mind. He was like ice to anyone who would touch him. A hollow spirit in a forest of death....
"Zaknafein!" a drow called cheerfully, breaking his thoughts.
Zak turned, his lips thin in his lack of emotion. A drow offered him a friendly smile.
"Zaknafein," he said again, "how much blood has your blade tasted tonight?"
The weapons-master looked disgusted, but the drow before him took the look as jealousy. "I am sure that Lloth is pleased with you," the drow said, gesturing towards Zaknafein's swords. They still twinkled red in the moonlight.
Play the role you have survived with, a voice warned him. The effects of your actions will follow you to Menzoberranzan.
Zaknafein swallowed hard and raised his blade higher so that the drow could get an even better look. The crimson glinted on the smooth metal. His throat closed with repulsion, but he turned a smile towards the drow beside him.
"Lloth will be pleased with House Do'Urden," he agreed.
"Very much so!" the drow laughed.
Zak smiled broadly and bowed. He rose and glanced deeper into the woods. The woman carrying the baby he had seen baptized was still running in the woods. He knew that it would not be long before Jeaern caught her.
"I hear another calling for my blades," he told the drow. "I cannot disappoint her."
The laughter of the drow trailed Zaknafein as he sprinted further into the forest. His footsteps were light and quick as he hurried to catch the woman. He knew that he Jeaern reached her first, there would be nothing left to save.
*** *** ***
Dessaven's feet rolled along the soft soil as she fled. She knew that Sapek was probably dead. Her heart told her as much, but still, she did not have the courage to turn her head in her run and see if he still stood.
She did not know where she was running to, but she ran with all her strength. Holding Nevina tight in her arms, she sped down through the forest, trees whisking by her, the tall, overgrown blades of grass brushing against her legs.
She did not stop. To stop was death. And so she ran.
Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but she didn't bring up a hand to wipe them away.
"Let them stay there," she told herself angrily. Her teeth bit her bottom lip fiercely. How she longed to rest! It seemed she had been running for years....
Nevina was crying in her arms, her tiny arms lashing out at the air, hitting Dessaven on the shoulder. There was no way for her to understand the horrors that had happened this night, but the running and the screaming caused the baby to shake in her crying.
A cruel chuckle suddenly surrounded her, echoing in the wood. Dessaven stopped immediately, frozen in place by the sound of the hideous laughter. Even Nevina in her arms fell silent, the whimpering of the baby ending as the sound of the laughing evaporated into nothing.
A slender figure suddenly dropped from the trees above her, falling nimbly into a crouch that absorbed the impact of such a high drop. Dessaven screamed, leaping back-
Only to back into a waiting drow.
Dessaven's scream only grew louder.
"She has a baby, Jeaern," the drow said calmly. "What fun."
Jeaern chuckled softly. "Were you running from us?" he asked Dessaven smoothly, knowing full well that she would not understand him. The taunting was for his amusement alone.
He brought his blade to her throat, gently stroking it along her smooth skin. Dessaven's eyes were closed and she shook in fear. She felt her skin being cut gently, not enough to kill her. They were only teasing her.
"Get it done with, Jeaern," the first drow fussed impatiently. "There's more to be done. I had the last one, true, but if you take too long with this girl...."
"Go on," Jeaern said absently. "I want to have some fun this night."
The first drow shrugged grimly and then hurried off, pursuing more of the fleeing men and women.
"Me and you," Jeaern whispered, pulling his sword back to his side. He reached out to take the baby from Dessaven's arms. The woman turned away violently so that her back was to the drow.
She would not let him have her baby!
"You-" He started forward to grab Dessaven's shoulder and turn her around.
"Jeaern!"
The drow turned quickly at the sound of his name being called so sharply. Zaknafein Do'Urden stood only ten paces away.
"Yes?" Jeaern asked impatiently. Dessaven backed away warily, unsure of what to do. There was no way she could escape, even if she ran.
"I claim her," Zaknafein told him. "She ran from me while I killed one she was with. She is mine."
Jeaern shook his head stubbornly. "I chased her and killed the man she was running with. Her death will be my cause."
Zaknafein tensed. Jeaern was from a lesser house, but Zaknafein had heard mention of the drow's skill with the blade. Zaknafein was in no mood to fight anymore this night-not after what he had done-but he would not see any more blood shed on the innocent.
"Go, Jeaern," Zak said sternly. "This is the last time I tell you."
Jeaern stood his ground.
Without any regret, Zaknafein grabbed the dagger that he kept at his waist and threw it had Jeaern. But the throw was only to force Jeaern to block. While the drow's sword came up to block the would-have-been deadly attack, Zaknafein exploded into action. He crossed the distance to Jeaern, coming between the drow and the woman.
His first sword came forward, but Jeaern had just enough time to parry. The dagger fell to the ground harmlessly. But he did not have time to even react to Zaknafein's second blade.
It came high in an arc, gliding through the air to his throat. A line of red appeared as Zaknafein brought down his weapons. Jeaern fell to the ground, falling dead at Zaknafein's feet.
They had been separated from all others who had been fleeing the drow, and now the woods was silent.
Aniyia dared to hope that they had broken free of the drow's sharp eyes and were at the moment safe. She stopped, her heart thudding in her chest as she sucked in gasps of air.
"Aniyia, where-"
"Shh, child," Aniyia whispered, brushing her hand through the young girl's hair. She knelt down and set the girl on the ground. When she stood, her hand sought the sturdy comfort of the tree, giving her support when she was so near to collapsing.
"Where are we going?" the girl asked, her voice low.
Aniyia smiled down at her. "To a safe place," she replied softly and soothingly. "To a place where the elves won't find us."
The girl seemed satisfied with the answer and questioned no more. She curled up into a tiny ball, still crying from the brutal killing of her mother.
Aniyia looked down at her with pity, knowing that one so young should never have to witness the cruelty that the drow brought on. She had been in the same position has the girl, had seen the same innocent blood spilt.
She knew that no one else should have to bear the same memories as she.
Aniyia looked around the tree, her old eyes searching for any drow that might be sneaking up on them. There was no one.
She sighed, relieved that maybe there was hope. Her eyes drifted down to the girl at her feet. They would make it to safety.
The crunch of a twig, snapping in the silence of the forest, was the only warning Aniyia got. The next thing she knew, pain exploded in her back, her chest burning in a livid heat.
Aniyia fell to the ground, feeling the essence of life pour from her, spilling onto the cold earth. The last thing she heard as her eyes went forever dark was the scream of the little girl, the scream of a promised death...the scream of a child.
*** *** ***
The two drow stopped when they saw Sapek turn and brandish a dagger. Evil sneers appeared on their faces, the bloodlust in their eyes suddenly replaced with something much darker...the sinister humor of the drow.
"He wants a fight," one of the drow observed. Sapek's nose crinkled at the words, spoken in such a foreign language. "Shall we give it to him, Jeaern?"
"We cannot disappoint such a valiant human," Jeaern snickered, his voice dripping in a mocking evil.
The first drow raised his blade before Sapek's eyes, holding it as if he were displaying a trophy.
"See the blood?" he asked, but Sapek did not understand the words that came out. The man could guess well enough what they meant.
He lunged forward, his small dagger, beating against the side of the drow's blade. He knew that there would be no winning for him, no pride of victory. He was doing this only to give Dessaven time to run, to escape the drow.
"Weakling," Jeaern scoffed. "Not even worthy of our time."
"Every kill pleases the Dark Lady," the first drow reminded him. "Let us make her proud to call us her children."
The two drow exchanged smiles, and Sapek winced at that more than the dark glint in their eyes.
Jeaern brought his sword in a loose attack, one he knew that the man could parry. His companion followed his lead, attacking slow, giving the human enough time to counter.
They are toying with you, a voice inside of Sapek laughed. They know that you will die. Give in and accept their mercy.
Drow mercy? another voice within him questioned.
"Never," Sapek growled under his breath. His foot soared out unexpectedly, slamming into the stomach of Jeaern. The drow fell back, losing his balance.
"Kill him!" Jeaern ordered loudly, his face flushing in embarrassment. He had let his confidence best him, and it the attack had wounded his pride. He would not tolerate the man to live a second more.
The drow's sword easily batted Sapek's dagger aside and before the man could bring it back to block the dark elf's weapon, it had plunged deep into his stomach, nearly to the hilt.
Sapek went to scream, but his he choked back the words. The last thing Sapek saw was Jeaern standing above him, anger pulsing in his eyes. The drow feet moved away, heading towards his helpless wife and baby.
*** *** ***
Zaknafein watched from the edge of the forest as the man dropped to the ground in death. He felt no remorse over the dead man. In fact, he didn't feel much of anything.
The blood of his blades still stained his mind. He was like ice to anyone who would touch him. A hollow spirit in a forest of death....
"Zaknafein!" a drow called cheerfully, breaking his thoughts.
Zak turned, his lips thin in his lack of emotion. A drow offered him a friendly smile.
"Zaknafein," he said again, "how much blood has your blade tasted tonight?"
The weapons-master looked disgusted, but the drow before him took the look as jealousy. "I am sure that Lloth is pleased with you," the drow said, gesturing towards Zaknafein's swords. They still twinkled red in the moonlight.
Play the role you have survived with, a voice warned him. The effects of your actions will follow you to Menzoberranzan.
Zaknafein swallowed hard and raised his blade higher so that the drow could get an even better look. The crimson glinted on the smooth metal. His throat closed with repulsion, but he turned a smile towards the drow beside him.
"Lloth will be pleased with House Do'Urden," he agreed.
"Very much so!" the drow laughed.
Zak smiled broadly and bowed. He rose and glanced deeper into the woods. The woman carrying the baby he had seen baptized was still running in the woods. He knew that it would not be long before Jeaern caught her.
"I hear another calling for my blades," he told the drow. "I cannot disappoint her."
The laughter of the drow trailed Zaknafein as he sprinted further into the forest. His footsteps were light and quick as he hurried to catch the woman. He knew that he Jeaern reached her first, there would be nothing left to save.
*** *** ***
Dessaven's feet rolled along the soft soil as she fled. She knew that Sapek was probably dead. Her heart told her as much, but still, she did not have the courage to turn her head in her run and see if he still stood.
She did not know where she was running to, but she ran with all her strength. Holding Nevina tight in her arms, she sped down through the forest, trees whisking by her, the tall, overgrown blades of grass brushing against her legs.
She did not stop. To stop was death. And so she ran.
Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but she didn't bring up a hand to wipe them away.
"Let them stay there," she told herself angrily. Her teeth bit her bottom lip fiercely. How she longed to rest! It seemed she had been running for years....
Nevina was crying in her arms, her tiny arms lashing out at the air, hitting Dessaven on the shoulder. There was no way for her to understand the horrors that had happened this night, but the running and the screaming caused the baby to shake in her crying.
A cruel chuckle suddenly surrounded her, echoing in the wood. Dessaven stopped immediately, frozen in place by the sound of the hideous laughter. Even Nevina in her arms fell silent, the whimpering of the baby ending as the sound of the laughing evaporated into nothing.
A slender figure suddenly dropped from the trees above her, falling nimbly into a crouch that absorbed the impact of such a high drop. Dessaven screamed, leaping back-
Only to back into a waiting drow.
Dessaven's scream only grew louder.
"She has a baby, Jeaern," the drow said calmly. "What fun."
Jeaern chuckled softly. "Were you running from us?" he asked Dessaven smoothly, knowing full well that she would not understand him. The taunting was for his amusement alone.
He brought his blade to her throat, gently stroking it along her smooth skin. Dessaven's eyes were closed and she shook in fear. She felt her skin being cut gently, not enough to kill her. They were only teasing her.
"Get it done with, Jeaern," the first drow fussed impatiently. "There's more to be done. I had the last one, true, but if you take too long with this girl...."
"Go on," Jeaern said absently. "I want to have some fun this night."
The first drow shrugged grimly and then hurried off, pursuing more of the fleeing men and women.
"Me and you," Jeaern whispered, pulling his sword back to his side. He reached out to take the baby from Dessaven's arms. The woman turned away violently so that her back was to the drow.
She would not let him have her baby!
"You-" He started forward to grab Dessaven's shoulder and turn her around.
"Jeaern!"
The drow turned quickly at the sound of his name being called so sharply. Zaknafein Do'Urden stood only ten paces away.
"Yes?" Jeaern asked impatiently. Dessaven backed away warily, unsure of what to do. There was no way she could escape, even if she ran.
"I claim her," Zaknafein told him. "She ran from me while I killed one she was with. She is mine."
Jeaern shook his head stubbornly. "I chased her and killed the man she was running with. Her death will be my cause."
Zaknafein tensed. Jeaern was from a lesser house, but Zaknafein had heard mention of the drow's skill with the blade. Zaknafein was in no mood to fight anymore this night-not after what he had done-but he would not see any more blood shed on the innocent.
"Go, Jeaern," Zak said sternly. "This is the last time I tell you."
Jeaern stood his ground.
Without any regret, Zaknafein grabbed the dagger that he kept at his waist and threw it had Jeaern. But the throw was only to force Jeaern to block. While the drow's sword came up to block the would-have-been deadly attack, Zaknafein exploded into action. He crossed the distance to Jeaern, coming between the drow and the woman.
His first sword came forward, but Jeaern had just enough time to parry. The dagger fell to the ground harmlessly. But he did not have time to even react to Zaknafein's second blade.
It came high in an arc, gliding through the air to his throat. A line of red appeared as Zaknafein brought down his weapons. Jeaern fell to the ground, falling dead at Zaknafein's feet.
