Chapter XI

Zak looked down at the woman who still lay on the ground. Knowing that she would not understand anything he said, he took a step back from her, sheathing his blades to hold up his hands peacefully.

She did not seem comforted. Instead she slowly got to her feet-as if her speed would measure the amount of attention Zaknafein gave her-and backed away.

"No," Zaknafein warned her instantly. "The other dr-"

The woman's eyes widened at the sound of his voice, an arcane language far from what she knew. Zak took another step back to show that he did not mean to harm her, but it was took late. The woman ran from him, holding the wailing baby in her arms.

Zak glanced around, knowing that the purpose of the patrol was almost complete. There would not be many of the humans left now. A running woman and her crying babe would draw all too much attention.

The weapon-master watched only for a second's time before he was racing after the woman, following the cries of the child through the turns and twists of the wood. He still did not have his blade drawn. What enemy was he to face if it were he himself that were the enemy feared?

It took him only a moment to catch the woman, his sprint lighter and faster than any human's. He grabbed her forearm gently, his finger's curling around her arm.

The woman screamed and turned madly, struggling to get away. Stunned, Zak immediately let go and backed away. Silence. The woman stopped all movement. Instead she stared at him with wide brown eyes, fierce and unforgiving to what had happened in the village.

How did Jarlaxle do this? Zaknafein thought, licking his lips in concentration. He opened his mouth and then paused. The woman seemed put off by this, but Zak tried again. "I do not mean you any harm," he said slowly in the Common Tongue.

The woman seemed shocked. A drow knew the Common Tongue of the surface? She studied him closer, rocking subconsciously the baby in her arm.

"How-" The dart whizzed through the air. Zak's head flew to the woman and he moved to knock her down, to keep her from the deadly poison of the dart.

Too late. The dart embedded itself deep into her neck. Her beautiful brown eyes looked horrorstruck and her last look was of Zaknafein as she fell to the ground.

Zak leaned forward, his quick reflexes allowing him to catch the baby as the two dropped. The child let out a fiery wail, as the gentle hands of the weapons-master caught her gently.

A drow came into view, emerging from the protection of the trees. Zaknafein glared at him intensely, but the drow did not seem to notice. If he did, the reason of the anger was beyond him completely.

"My apologies, Zaknafein," the drow remarked with a short bow. His bloodied blade's tip touched the ground gently. "I thought you were taking a bit too much time."

Zaknafein said nothing, but he knelt down and set the baby in a patch of grass. The babe stopped crying and looked up at Zaknafein, wide eyes staring into his own. She had the eyes of her mother, Zak noticed. A few wisps of red hair were atop the baby's head. Zaknafein closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his decision.

"Come," the drow who had murdered the woman said. "Kill the babe and let us leave this gods-cursed surface. The sun will be rising soon."

Zaknafein stood and nodded to his companion slowly. The weapons-master raised his sword above his head, sucking a deep breath that was filled with decisiveness. He knew what he must do.

*** *** ***

Lea hurried past her sister, her pace brisk and demanding. "Matron L'lonneal," she whispered, reaching out to hold her mother's hand. The matron mother did not stir.

"She's been like this for nearly an hour," Z'ress informed her sister. "Where were you? Out in the city again, sister? I warned you that-"

Lea ignored her sister completely. She looked at her dying mother. There was such cruelty in the drow society, but her mother had not followed those rules of the damning society. Their house had not grown in station or attacked another, but Lea had received more love than any other child in all of Menzoberranzan. She was the daughter of Matron L'lonneal, and nothing could deter that pride: not her sister's words, nor her mother's stricken look.

But now, that pride was turning quickly to sorrow. For many months, her aged mother had been ailing. How many more days could the matron mother live? A week? Three days? One?

"Matron L'lonneal," Lea murmured again. She paused, biting down on her lower lip. "Mother?"

L'lonneal's eyes stirred open. "Lea'Veril?"

"Yes, Mother?"

L'lonneal closed her eyes again, wincing at the pain it caused her to speak. After what had seemed an eternity had passed, she opened her eyes again. "Lea, this house will be yours soon. Guard and rule it well."

"I will," Lea'Veril promised. "You won't leave me yet."

"Soon," L'lonneal said again, her voice a rasping croak. "It won't be much longer. Remember what I told you about-"

"I remember," Lea cut in, although she had no idea what her mother was requesting her to remember. It doesn't matter, Lea told herself, not now.

Her mother sank back into the pillows and Lea stood resolutely. She watched for a moment, her mother's chest rise up and down in labored breaths, the breathing of the dying.

"Our mother needs her rest," she said quietly. All those in the room left without a word. No one dared question the command of a drow chosen to become matron mother....

*** *** ***

Jarlaxle had been affected by Lea'Veril's words no matter how much he could outwardly deny it. And the magic he had felt only a few nights before was not something he could forget. The mercenary remembered the MoonCrest and its legend from far back in his childhood. A child's tale, he recalled, and nothing more.

Or so he had thought.

Now, apparently, he was thinking otherwise. Jarlaxle stalked the hallways of Sorcere with extreme caution. He listened deeply to the silence that pounded his ears and his eyes were sharp in the darkness of the corridors.

He knew the way to Gromph's chambers well, but each time he made this trip, there was certain danger. The school of Socere was not a place for the fools to roam.

The mercenary made not a sound as he crept past the doors of other masters. He paused only at intersections, peeking around the corner before he hurried across. Only once was he almost seen, by a sole wizard who was strolling down the hallway. Jarlaxle hid carefully until the wizard had walked by, not even caring to notice the drow hiding in the unlocked room, the door even cracked slightly open.

But finally-finally!-he reached the door to Gromph's chambers. He didn't hesitate as he went through the magical locks, one by one unhinging them. Soon the door of the room had opened and Jarlaxle stepped inside.

Gromph was no where to be seen. Jarlaxle knew that he was at the base of Narbondel, casting the spell that would keep the daily glow.

Jarlaxle rubbed his hands together as he stared at the book-covered shelves of the room.

"Okay," he breathed. He walked closer to the bookshelves and a single, slender finger strolled across the spines of the books. Jarlaxle's mind took in each title with remarkable speed. He had gone through nearly an entire two rows of books before he stopped his finger. Deftly snatching the book from the shelf, he glanced once at the title on the cover: The Legends of the Goddess.

"Catchy title," Jarlaxle mused aloud. Without missing a beat, he hurried to the door, pulling it closed just as Gromph Baerne teleported into the room.

Jarlaxle flicked the cover of the book proudly with his fingers and then began to walk back to the Bregan D'aerthe compound.

*** *** ***

The dawn was approaching, all the drow knew. They had gathered at the crest of the hill where they had so patiently waited for the command to attack.

"Did we lose anyone?" one of the drow asked, the leader of the surface raid.

"Jeaern's body was found," a slight drow said, feeling no remorse for the loss. "Dead," he added with an impact.

Another drow put in, "Leari was killed in the forest."

The commander of the raid nodded, taking note in his mind of the houses from which the drow named were from. "And Zaknafein Do'Urden is still missing?"

All heads nodded in a sudden, subdued silence.