Chapter 10
Sab'vrae paced about his quarters, unable to relax enough to go into reverie or even sleep. After a few weeks of organizing, Matron Bhin'ree deemed the day the perfect opportunity to decimate House Tor'ana. By midnight, Aleanani's forces would encircle the complex and attack. An hour before that, Sab'vrae and his hand picked fleet would begin their infiltration of the stronghold. Nervous, but not out of fear, Aleanani's elderboy found himself restless. This would be the most action he'd seen since the surface raid seven years ago. A near decade of relative peace drove his warrior's wits to an end. His body and blades itched painfully for battle, and the excitement that came from it.
Despite the considerable danger of his mission, Sab'vrae highly anticipated it, eager for the challenge. Never before had the opportunity presented itself for him to attack Lloth priestesses without penalty. He knew well they would prove fierce foes, and the fact he despised most priestesses he met made the chance all the sweeter. He checked the relative time, then sighed. Still hours before the assault and his part in it. Why did time have to drag by so slowly? He sighed once again.
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"Impatient, aren't we?" Erel'kiira asked some hours later with amusement. They still had an hour before their appointed time slot.
"We need to allow time for preparation and travel." Sab'vrae snapped, searching out his troops. "The matron will be displeased if we are late for our part."
"And what if we are early?" Erel'kiira questioned.
"We won't be early. We'll be on time." Her commander promised.
True to his promise, the band of fifteen dark elves slipped past Tor'ana's front guards a half hour later. Before leaving, House Aleanani's priestesses had given the band a few enchantments to shield them temporarily from enemy detection. The wards would end soon, and Sab'vrae singled for his team to ready their hand crossbows.
Most drow on missions carried small, hand sized, trigger powered crossbows that shot darts of fatal poison or sleeping drugs. The Aleanani troop loaded their crossbows with sleeping darts, waiting for more orders from their captain. Sab'vrae readied his own and peeked around a corner. He spotted a mounted guard slowly pace his way towards the group. Skillfully, the elderboy aimed his crossbow and quickly shot two bolts. Each hit its target on the victims' necks. The drow patrol and his mount slumped over, instantly asleep.
The troop silently slipped by, a soldier quickly stabbing the drow and lizard through the heart to completely silence them. Looping around towards the back of House Tor'ana, Sab'vrae's squad drugged and killed all who crossed their path.
Sab'vrae scanned the Tor'ana building for an entrance. Spotting a window a few stories up, he signaled his comrades to levitate. Matron Bhin'ree made sure to enlist drow with at least basic spell casting abilities and could communicate in the elaborate Drow Sign Language. The system of hand signals came in handy when on stealth missions.
The group levitated up to the window. Rhyl'dorl pushed past the others and came up to the glass. He reached into his robes and retrieved a small cutter, pressing it into the pane. Quietly and efficiently, he cut out a large, body-sized hole into the window. Sliding the glass out, he levitated to the ground, placing the glass against the stone wall of the house.
By the time he returned, half the group had already slipped into the building. Once everyone entered, Sab'vrae searched the immediate area, finding it safe for the moment.
We'll split up into three groups of five. He said in drow sign language, One group with me, one with Erel'kiira, and one with Rhyl'dorl leading. Each group will head down a corridor and kill any Tor'ana they encounter. Remember, stealth is the most important factor at the moment. Try not to reveal yourselves until the remainder of our forces arrive. That leaves us about thirty minutes or so to remain in the shadows. Move out.
Quickly, the drow assembled into three groups and split up. Sab'vrae's team snuck down the largest corridor, clinging to the walls and levitating above the heads of any they encountered. Their enchantments still remained, allowing them to walk by without their heat source being detected by their opponents. Still, the spells would wear off before the rest of the Aleanani forces arrived, so Sab'vrae made haste towards what he hoped were Matron Irr'bryn 's throne room or personal quarters.
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Matron Irr'bryn paced about her throne room in frustration. Ever since she failed to capture that blasphemous brother of hers, she was unable to use her clerical abilities. Even her own snake whip turned its many heads against her, a sure sign of Lloth's disfavor. She rubbed her temples. Damned brother of mine and his foolish following of that false god, Vhaeraun. Vhaeraun was the son of Lloth and the drow god of thieves, deceit, and male dark elves. His dogma preached that both genders were equal, and he encouraged an eventual return to the surface to unite all elves and overthrow the other races. Much of his lessons were blasphemy in the Lloth church, especially the gender issue.
Apparently, her brother, Omarantar, House Tor'ana's top assassin, had followed The Masked Lord for centuries, but managed to flee the city shortly after being discovered. For this insolence, the entire house paid dearly. Each day the matron lost slaves and soldiers due to a lack of fear and faith, fleeing from the doomed noble family. She already knew of many enemies who would love to see her house crumble, but, unfortunately, she was unable to determine whom she should fear the most and when they would strike. Irr'bryn was unusually unprepared for anything, and she hated it.
Tor'ana's matron jumped with a start when she heard her door slam open. Her sister, Elv'une, dashed inside, panting.
"How dare you barge in on me without authorization!" the matron snarled.
"M-my, m-m-y ap-p-polgies, matron m-m-mother," Elv'une gasped, "B-but there… are… in-" She coughed and gurgled, blood leaking through her lips. She slumped to the ground, red liquid leaking out underneath her body.
"Elv'une!"
"She can't hear you anymore." Sab'vrae threw out his piwafwi, the cloak swishing and dropping down his shoulders, leaving his front exposed. Finally, his enchantments had worn off, revealing his body heat to the matron mother.
"Who--?" Matron Irr'bryn's eyes widened in alarm. "Matron Bhin'ree's brat boy? Sab'vrae? Your house is attacking?"
"Actually, they're not quite here yet, but, rest assured, this is the end of your family's reign." Sab'vrae stepped forward, blades withdrawn. Tor'ana's matron backed away, scowling.
"You'll regret your insolence, male!" she snarled, moving her hands about to form a spell. She recited an incantation, but nothing happened, Silently, she cursed herself. Only trained in clerical abilities, she could only cast spells bestowed upon her by Lloth. Her goddess had truly abandoned her.
"Too bad your spells rely on someone else, isn't it?" Sab'vrae taunted, charging forward, "Me, I rely on only myself. That's why I'll live on." Matron Irr'bryn screamed, pulling out her mace as a last line of defense.
It did her little good, however. Sab'vrae's blades dodged her bludgeon, biting effortlessly into her flesh, cutting through her arms and into her heart.
"Be glad I got to you before my mother did." Sab'vrae hissed, "I don't torture my fallen enemies." Matron Irr'bryn gagged, tasting her blood leaking into her mouth before her vision quickly faded.
Sab'vrae withdrew his blades just in time to hear loud explosions outside. He ran to the window and smiled. "Looks like Mother's arrived." He turned and ran out of the throne room, his cape billowing out behind him.
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House Tor'ana boasted many skilled fighters and mages of considerable power, but in their recent decline, they were no match for House Aleanani's sheer numbers. Legions of kobolds, goblins, and orcs fell upon the Tor'ana defenders, and after they were cut down, troops of drow fighters and mages soon followed to pick off the survivors.
Erel'kiira led her band through the house, covering the mid levels. They ignored stealth once they heard the sounds of battle outside. It didn't matter much, anyway. Confused and panicked, their adversaries put up little resistance. She led her squad with her two long swords, her fighting style mirroring Sab'vrae's in some ways.
Rhyl'dorl's team entered the lower levels, cutting into the Tor'ana forces from behind. The large drow brandished an equally big great sword, slashing through slaves and soldiers alike. A few sleeping darts penetrated his skin, to which the warrior only laughed. Before leaving, Bhin'ree's stealth squad had taken anti-sleeping and poison potions to last the night.
Sab'vrae reentered the main hallway, finding three of his team still intact. The other two he found on the ground among the many Tor'ana guard corpses.
"Acceptable losses," he decided to his men, "let's keep moving. The matron mother is dead, so the rest should be easy." He dashed down the hallway, his weapons at the ready along with his pumping heart and rushing adrenaline. This was the kind of excitement his soul had longed for the past few years. They stumbled upon a surprised mage, who quickly cast protection spells. Sab'vrae motioned his troops onward, facing off the wizard himself.
"How did you manage to get in here!" the spell caster asked in disbelief, his skin turning rough and brown. A barkskin spell. Sab'vrae chuckled. A barkskin spell would do little against the keen edges of a few masterwork drow blades.
"I think your house could use a more elite guard," he answered, barely dodging a fireball. "But it's a little late for that now, isn't it?" He swung his swords forward, his father's slightly curved weapon slicing a clean wound open on the mage's arm. The wizard screeched in alarm and pain, attempting to counter. Sab'vrae's reflexes proved the quicker, removing the drow's head from his shoulders. A spray of warm, wet, thick red blood rained down upon the elderboy, who ignored it as the mage's body fell to the ground. He continued on his way down the corridor, ready to meet his next challenge.
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Cleaning out the middle levels, Erel'kiira's team made their way down to the lower levels, soon joining with Rhyl'dorl's remaining band.
"What did I tell you, my friend?" the female warrior smirked, "everything is fine!"
"The battle's not over yet." Rhyl'dorl reminded, deflecting an arrow with surprising speed.
"But the hardest part is over. Let's move on!" The male sighed as his companion charged into the fray.
"Sometimes I wonder why we both aren't dead yet…" he muttered to himself.
Sab'vrae finished off the top floors with one member remaining -- he hoped the other teams fared better than his. Leading his one soldier on, the elderboy captain made his way to the middle floor, only to find it empty.
"Well, it seems these mercenaries can pull off a good job." He observed, finding a stairway leading to the ground level. Before long, he encountered a small group on goblins bearing collars with House Tor'ana's crest. Alarmed, they descended upon the two invading drow, most brandishing sticks, a few of them crude short swords at best. Sab'vrae and his partner easily countered their attacks, soon thinning out the fleet. The few remaining monsters wisely chose to flee. The lower dark elf moved to route them, but Sab'vrae held out his arm to halt him.
"Don't bother. They're no challenge, hardly worth our talents. Perhaps there are some decent foes left. Let's go." Surprised at the order, but smart enough not to disobey, the drow merely nodded and followed his commander down the hallway.
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"Use your most destructive spells! Reduce the house to rubble!" Matron Bhin'ree shouted outside the complex. Beside her, Masantar fended off the few foolish enough to attempt an attack on the matron mother.
"Do you think my stupid brother managed to complete his mission?" the daughter asked her mother.
"Your brother is quite capable for a male, Masantar," Bhin'ree reminded her, "I don't doubt his abilities."
"And even if he fails, it is not that great of a loss. We can afford it." Dilaere spoke from Bhin'ree's other side, katana drawn. "We have plenty of capable fighters, and more on the way once they've completed their training."
Masantar simply shrugged, aiming an enchanted web spell at an unfortunate kobold.
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"I am never letting you convince me to participate in an inter house war ever again." Rhyl'dorl grumbled, nursing a broken arm.
"Oh, come on! It's not that bad! Your arm will heal soon enough." Erel'kiira insisted, wrapping her head up in bandages. Once word of Matron Irr'bryn's death reached the Tor'ana ranks, the battled ended quickly. All the nobles and relatives of the house were tracked down and slain; most of the commoners swore their allegiance to House Aleanani when faced with death. Those who didn't, died.
"I'm not talking about me! I had to carry you out after that stupid orc bludgeoned you over the head with that club!" the male warrior protested.
"Pssh. I've had worse." She disagreed, despite the tender feeling in the back of her skull.
"You're impossible." He growled.
"I know." She smirked.