Barely a week had passed since the escape from the slave market. Del'rania and Riko had come to a wary truce—Del'rania would remain "civil," as Riko put it, and Riko would not ask questions about her past or any odd incidents.
And there had been odd...incidents, Del'rania reflected as they rode across the seemingly endless plains. A few days she had tried to say the word "Lolth," and had nearly choked on her own tongue. Nor could she make any other references to the goddess, as she discovered after a short but furious bout of almost-cursing when that dratted horse of Riko's had stepped on her foot (she still was uncertain whether or not Makia had done that on purpose...the horse seemed too intelligent for a normal animal, and had taken a distinct disliking for her). Now she was getting headaches every time she even thought of...Damn!
It was as if something was...inhibiting her. Del'rania wondered whether Riko was behind it but given the strange looks he gave her at the time, she honestly doubted it. Really, the human seemed too...simple for anything of the sort. He wouldn't last a minute in Zorin'zaal, she thought to herself.
And then there were the dreams. Every night, she dreamed the same dream. Every night, unclad women dancing under the stars, dancing, singing strange songs she'd never heard before, songs she could not understand. Praising some goddess—not... (her head panged warningly)...but rather a goddess of the surface world. Each woman different and yet the same, hair silver as the moon, skin black as the night. They whispered strange somethings to her, words from some soft silky dialect of Drow, urging her to do something. Come, sister, come...Del'rania could understand no more. They frightened her, those dreams.
She found herself thinking strange thoughts, too. Sometimes she found herself...enjoying the daytime. Enjoying! L...Gods! She hated the daylight! It burned her eyes and blinded her senses. Well...not anymore, but still...
Night, on the other hand, was better. Night was dark and cool, reminding her of the chilly caverns of the Underdark, hours spent wandering away from civilization. She could close her eyes at night, and almost pretend she was home. The glorious night sky, filled with glittering stars and a brilliant moon...Dammit! I'm doing it again! She shook her head fiercely to rid herself of the image of the night sky, and the moon, and...dancing.
Riko suddenly reined the horse. "We'll stop here for the night," he said, motioning to a lone tree poking up out of the ground in the distance. "The sun's setting—Makia's getting tired—and I'm sure we could all use a break from the saddle." Del'rania scowled at him, secretly itching to rub her bottom. Riko had told her that it would take some time before she grew used to the saddle. But, ohhhh! How it ached after all these long days of riding, riding, riding! "One brief trot," he continued, seemingly reading her thoughts, "and that'll be all for the day."
Later, seated around the fire, Del'rania watched curiously as Riko lit a stick of incense, as he did every night, and made ablutions to the god he worshipped. That was another change; suddenly she found herself interested in the strange rites the man performed every night. Back in Zorin'zaal—at home, she reminded herself firmly—the priestesses had viciously suppressed the worship of any god besides—besides that goddess, and few drow had the motivation to seek out another god and face the clerics' wrath. Oddly enough, she noticed, thinking about any god besides that goddess did not give her a headache.
Riko finished his prayers and dabbed the stick of incense out in the ground. She had always wondered about that; Riko recycled his incense, using the same stick every night, and his god did not take offense! In Zorin'zaal, anyone that cheap would probably be killed. Granted, everyone worshipped...that goddess, but religion for the most part was for those who could afford it.
"Who do you worship every night?" The words tumbled off her lips before she could keep them in.
Riko's surprised expression reflected her own, she was sure. "Heironeous," he replied uncertainly.
"Heh-rohn-nus," she tried, tasting the human word.
He shook his head. "Hi-row-nee-us," he said slowly, enunciating each syllable distinctly.
"Hi-row-nee-us," she repeated, pronouncing the name carefully.
He nodded. "That's right," he said, and added a touch suspiciously, "Why do you ask?"
"Just...wondering," she said uncomfortably, looking away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him eyeing her apprehensively, as if he were waiting for something. He's expecting me to say something about that goddess, she realized. Instead she stared into the flames, watching their flickering dance. A wave of uneasiness swept over her, and she moved closer to the fire. "Make it hotter," she demanded, and the obliging Riko stirred the coals.
Del'rania slept.
She ran through the forest, branches tearing at her and lashing her to ever greater speeds. She ran and ran, not knowing what chased her, only that she had to get away. Spiny thorn bushes and trailing vines whipped by her as she ran on.
And then the forest opened suddenly onto a glade of sorts, and she stopped at its edge, panting and gasping for breath. Music played, drums beating out a complex rhythm, hunting horns wailing an eldritch song. Women danced, their nude bodies writhing to the thunder of the drums, long hair whipping behind them. The full moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the scene.
But something was wrong. First one horn, then another, then all, fell off-key, screeching in agony as their player tried to wring the music from their incapable throats. Drums fell off-beat, confusing the dancers, whose graceful movements suddenly became slow and halting. And then the music cut off abruptly, gasping out a final note like a breath from a slit throat.
The dancers ceased to move, wildly looking around. They turned this way and that, looking for an escape, then dashed about, as if they could not leave the clearing.
Run, sister. The cry came from nowhere, whispered from a thousand throats. Run, sister. Again the two words were chanted, and yet again and again. Run, sister. The dancers began to flee the glade at last.
Run, sister.
Run, sister.
Clicking and crunching echoed behind her, and with a terrified gasp she remembered her pursuers. Weeping with fear, she stumbled into the clearing. Where had the dancers fled? The clicking increased, seemingly coming from all around her. Eyes shined in depths of the forest. A huge spider burst from the trees, trailing destruction in its wake.
Run, sister.
Run, RUN, RUN!!
Del'rania awoke, screaming. At her throat, the necklace throbbed.
"Riko, wake up! They're coming, Riko!! THEY'RE COMING!!"
The scream echoed over the plains. Virrandria cursed silently, wondering how the girl had known. Her hands flickered in fingerspeak to the ten soldiers with her.
Spread out around them. Move silently but quickly. Ready your crossbows. The warriors nodded and set out.
"Wake up, Riko, damn you!" She kicked the lump that was the human's body, and he groaned awake. "They're here, they're here, wake up!" she panted, grabbing a still-burning stick from the dying fire and waving it in the air. Half-formed plans flitted through her head, and she spent barely any time wondering how they had got there. "Get up, get up—oh."
The man was on his feet, staring at her, longsword naked in his hand. "What's going on," he demanded, looking over his shoulder at her as he strode over to wake his horse.
"They're coming Riko oh gods they're coming to kill me—" Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard against the rising terror. She threw the stick down next to the tree, and shoved all of the remaining sticks meant for the fire next to it. All, that is, but for a single, thick switch; clubs were always the most basic of weapons. "Look, d'you have any oil—?"
"Yes, in the saddlebags—"
"Get down!!"
Crossbow bolts hummed overhead. Someone cursed in Drow. Del'rania wrenched herself to her feet. "Get the oil," she continued, "and throw it on the fire!" She stared into the darkness, watching the drow as they circled, waiting for instructions from a female in robes. A priestess.
"Stars and sun!" she swore, and blinked at the unfamiliar curse. Something was climbing up from the depths of her soul, something struggled with her for control... "No, no, oh please no not now," she moaned in a breathy whisper as she fought the something down. "Please not now..."
A sudden wave of heat washed over her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the fire burning bright, licking the tree trunk. To her delight, a breeze sprang up and fanned the flames. The fire burned slowly but fiercely, feeding on the oil, climbing higher and higher. Crackling, small flames leapt onto the tree trunk, growing bigger as they burned into the thick bark.
There was a scream from the dark as the flames grew bright. Del'rania smiled as the warriors staggered back from the light. Strangely enough, her eyes did not burn at all.
"Drow," Riko said carelessly, as if he had been expecting it all along. For a moment he closed his eyes in prayer.
"This isn't the time!" she hissed, but he paid no attention to her. After a moment, he opened them once more.
"There," he said in satisfaction. Del'rania blinked at him. The man seemed to...glow faintly in some subtle manner.
"Get them, damn you! Get them!" shrieked a woman's voice in Drow.
"But mistress—the light—our eyes—"
In a single movement the priestess lashed out against the protester, dealing a vicious blow to the warrior's head with a morning-star. The man dropped with a cry. "Questions?" she demanded with an ugly expression. The remaining warriors charged silently.
She fended them off as best as she could, desperately trying to block the whirling swords. They were still partly blinded by the light—even though they had closed their eyes, the fire's light burned through their eyelids. Next to her, she caught glimpses of Riko, ducking and feinting, slashing, stabbing, sword ringing against his opponent's blades. His movements, she thought absently, were a touch unearthly. Makia reared above, lashing out with her hooves, knocking warriors to the ground and trampling them.
And then, above the chaos, eerie chanting floated through the air.
The priestess!
Just as suddenly as it had begun, the chanting came to a triumphant halt.
"Get back!" cried the priestess. The remaining three soldiers moved away warily. Riko looked at Del'rania, blood dripping from his sword. "Wha—"
Wordlessly, she pointed behind him.
A huge spider loomed above them, its many eyes shining in the light of the fire, its giant pincers clicking menacingly. Makia screamed at the thing, and backed up, before bolting away into the night.
Riko and Del'rania backed away from the creature. It took one ponderous step forward—then lunged, snatching up Riko in its pincers.
Del'rania screamed despite herself. The man was helpless in the monster's claws. It shook him ferociously, like a dog shaking a favorite toy. Shining like a fallen star, the longsword tumbled from his hands and landed with a thump on the ground beside her. Giving Riko one last shake, the spider tossed the man aside and advanced upon her, seeming to smile in evil delight.
The priestess's laughter rang out in the night like silver bells. Del'rania stumbled back. It was hopeless to run, she knew—the spider would catch her before she took two steps, and kill her as it had slain Riko—kill her and take the necklace—
No.
Something rose in her—rose and rose—and rose—AND ROSE—
Her eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. Slowly, as in a dream, she bent to pick up the longsword.
The necklace...throbbed.
Suddenly she was floating above the scene, looking down—or was she? Del'rania tried to move her limbs, but could not. Her body was not there. All she could do was watch.
Beneath her, a small figure glowed silver in the night. It wielded a longsword—is that me? The last thing she remembered doing was picking up the sword...
The figure flung out a hand at the spider, and silver fire shot forth and burned the spider. With a screech the monster reared up, waving a useless leg. Falling back on its remaining seven legs, it backed away from the figure. Behind it, the priestess urged it on.
The moon came out from behind the clouds, shining down on the scene. A single thick moonbeam seared across the spider, and it screamed in pain. The figure leapt into the air, somehow seizing the moonbeam, and landed on all fours on the spider's back. Quickly it clambered up to the spider's head, and plunged the sword in, again and again. Thick, greenish stuff oozed out of the widening wounds. As the monster fell and vanished, the figure grasped the moonbeam once more, sliding down to land in front of the priestess.
The priestess gaped at the figure. She back away one step, then two, then turn and ran, screaming for the remaining fighters. But they had vanished, having long since fled into the night.
The figure did not bother to chase the priestess. Slowly one hand rose. Again, silver fire flared in the night, enveloping the priestess. One scream, and she was gone, crumbling to ash.
Slowly the figure turned, and...danced (Del'rania could think of no word more fitting) to where Riko still lay. Amazingly, the man still lived, but his life was bleeding away by the second. He had only moments left to live...
The figure bent down beside him and placed its hands on his chest. Silver fire played about her fingers, springing to his wounds. First he ceased to bleed...then his wounds began to close...He was still badly hurt, but he would live. He would live.
The figure looked up. Del'rania felt as if she were being sucked down, pulled back to earth. The world whirled around her and went dark.
Riko awoke with a moan, his body aching all over. The last thing he remembered was being seized by the giant spider—why was he still alive—?
Above him shone a figure of silver fire—no, a dark figure illuminated by a silver glow. Long-fingered black hands lay on his chest, radiating silver fire. His body tingled with the familiar feeling of a Cure prayer.
Even as he watched, the hand slid and fell away. For a moment the figure wobbled, silver glow fading, and then Del'rania folded up, collapsing to the ground in the deepest of sleeps. As he forced himself into a sitting position, grimacing as his wounds panged, he noticed that her necklace shone for one last moment, then went dark. Leaning closer, he could just make out on the silver disk an intricate carving of a dancing woman.
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Don't know what that "silver disk" is? Go back and read the second chapter! snickers Remember, the necklace is described as "hair the color of moonlight braided in a loop, lacking a clasp or knot, as if the ends had melded together. A silver moon hung from it, with delicate golden stars running up the sides; one could barely make out a figure lightly carved into the silver disk." Again, apologies for taking so long. I'm afraid that it's definitely going to take me at least another week to put out the fifth chapter but now I'm all pumped up that I want to keep typing!! Stupid homework. Thanks for all the reviews!
Oh yes. Even thought Chapter 3 was one of the hardest chapters I've written (which isn't saying much...not to mention the manuscript disappearing), I found myself enjoying the bickering of the Council, and Lixarin and Vranid in particular. I'm thinking about writing another fic once this is finished involving the two of them, maybe explore their relationship (and I do NOT mean that in a warm and fuzzy way. Maybe in the "I'd like you dead but you're too valuable/waste of my time, so for now I'll just smile and put myself to sleep with images of your dead body" way). Do you think that's a good idea? If you do, say so in your reviews. But it may take me a while to come up with an idea for a story, so you'd have to be patient.