The boy ran through the house, not looking where he was going. He could hear his sister gaining on him, could hear her enraged yelling.
"Get back here, stupid!" she shouted. "The more you run, the more you'll hurt when I catch you." She was panting, tired from chasing the idiot male around the whole house. He was supposed to be cleaning the chapel like a good little boy, but of course the stupid kid had to run away. If the Matron Mother came back now, she'd be in trouble. She kept running after him, furious.
The boy knew his sister was angry, knew he'd be in trouble when she caught him. He wasn't really old enough yet to grasp the futility of his efforts. He saw an open door and dashed in, slamming and locking it behind him.
The room was not currently occupied, but it did seem as if someone lived here. There was a bed, left unmade. There were hundreds of shelves, crammed with jars and boxes of interesting stuff. If the boy had not been in such a hurry to find a hiding place, he would have spent hours poring over the enchanting contents of this single room. He stumbled over the clutter on the floor, towards another door. He flung it open and there was a closet. His sister had reached the room door now and was kicking it, yelling all the while. He stepped into the closet and closed that door. There was no lock, but he really had no other choice.
The closet was illuminated by a blue light. It was gentle, not too hard on his eyes and it took him just a few seconds to adjust his vision. He could hear his sister slamming around in the room now. It was a wonder she hadn't found him yet.
The closet smelled musty and he looked around, inspecting his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was a large rectangular panel. In the panel, he saw a frightened dark elven boy, crouched in a closet. Wait, the boy wasn't in a closet. He was in a cave.
The boy in the closet stared.
Then he heard his sister say, sounding exhausted but triumphant.
"Oh, of course. The closet."
Without thinking, the boy lunged at the panel. He slid through whatever barrier divided this world and the other, landing safely on the other side. Now he was sitting in the cave. He saw his sister standing in the closet, looking around, confused. She didn't seem to see him in the panel.
Not questioning his good fortune, he glanced around the cave.
It was a good sized, round 'room'. There was a tunnel leading off somewhere and the boy got up and sprinted towards it, still following his instinct to get away from his sister.
The tunnel was long and straight, it seemed to go on forever. The boy ran for a while, but then he was tired and so he walked. As he was walking along the tunnel, wondering what he was going to do, he noticed something on the ground.
He leaned over and picked it up. It was white and sharp, like a claw or some carnivore's tooth. He rubbed it, sniffed it, trying to discern what it was. He was unable to tell, but he liked the way it looked. And besides, it was his. No one else in the whole world even knew it existed. He carefully put it in his neck purse.
He continued walking down the tunnel, drawing strength from the strange tooth in his possession. Finally, he arrived at another room. It was a good sized, round 'room'. There was a rectangular panel leaning up against one stone wall. It seemed to be exactly where he had started out at. Had he turned around without realizing it?
He was hungry now, though, and he considered climbing through the panel and trying to get something to eat. His sister would be really mad, though. But he had been gone a while, maybe she had calmed down a bit.
Finally, he decided that it didn't matter if he got beaten to a pulp, he was hungry and tired and this cave was starting to scare him. He climbed back through the panel, and once again he was sitting in the closet.
He pushed the door open, and to his shock, there was someone in the room, sitting on the bed. It wasn't his sister, it was another male. The older boy looked up and saw him.
"You!" he said. He sounded angry and the kid flinched.
"What the hell were you going into my room for? Faeryl came in here and tore everything up because you came in here and hid in my closet and then she couldn't find you in there and she was mad at ME!" He glared furiously at his younger brother. "Did you break my mirror?"
'Mirror?' thought the boy. 'Was that what it was?' Out loud he said, "No." He hadn't broken anything in the closet.
"Good." The other boy was still angry at him, but he seemed slightly pacified. "Well, go to Faeryl now. She's going to be furious with you, but the sooner you get it over with, the better."
The boy nodded and headed for the door. He bit his lip and said softly, "I'm sorry." before carefully closing the door behind him.
The Elderboy sighed, got up and started rearranging his clutter the way he liked it.
The boy walked up to the chapel door and knocked timidly. Faeryl opened it and glared down at him so fiercely he had to fight the urge to run again.
"I'm sorry." he whispered. Faeryl scowled. She did not look placated whatsoever. She grabbed his arm and yanked him into the chapel.
"Do you have any IDEA what kind of trouble I would have been in if the Matron Mother had found out you are so badly disciplined?" she screamed in his face. "Why do you have to be such an idiot! If you behaved yourself, I wouldn't punish you!"
"I tried to behave myself." he screamed back.
"No you didn't!" she screamed again. "You keep screaming at me!"
"You started it by screaming at me!" he screamed. He was also crying now, he knew she would win this one by beating him until he couldn't scream anymore. It wasn't fair!
"I'm allowed to scream at you, you idiot!" she screamed louder.
He screamed incoherently, having run out of things to say, but still angry. She snarled and tore her whip from her belt. He screamed again, this time in fear.
"I'm sorry!" he screamed. He turned to run, but she still had his arm and she brought her whip down on his back.. He cried loudly at first, but after a while he was quieter, whimpering softly and whispering that he was sorry, but either too hoarse or too frightened to make any louder noise.
She calmed down a little when he had stopped being so annoying. He drove her crazy. Here she was frantically studying, trying to do something important and this worthless little boy had to come into her life and screw everything up. She glared at him spitefully and brought the whip down once more onto his back. He let out a soft groan of pain and she sighed and let go of his arm. He dropped quickly to his knees, staring at the floor and trembling. He might only be five, but he learned fast.
That night, he was lying awake in bed. He lay on his stomach, his back throbbing and stinging. He had cried a bit more, but there really was no point in it and he was exhausted. He knew the next morning Faeryl would have him up again cleaning, and he needed to sleep. He was still furious at himself for running away so stupidly.
But...he had the tooth. He lifted himself onto his elbows, unfastened his neck purse and took out his treasure. He examined it carefully. He noted its size, its razor sharpness.
"Dragon?" he mumbled. He remembered seeing a picture in a book in the library (he had been punished for that one too) of a huge, black creature, breathing flame. With large, sharp teeth.
He shook the thoughts of his mind. He had to sleep.
He closed his eyes and began reciting the drow alphabet in his mind, his own special game to forget the pain, forget all the problems that were coming. He drifted off into sleep.
There are black scales, long claws. Sharp white teeth, flashing in a wide red mouth. The eyes, scarlet and terrible. And the fury, the anger. Thirsty for blood...for vengeance. I want to drink...off your fear...Destroy you, hurt you, break you, rip you, kill you, eat you. I want you to die screaming my name, begging for mercy. Feel me hating you, drow. I hate you, hate, hate, hate, hate.
Running, driven by the fear. Behind me, it's coming. It's wild and it's coming. Roaring and crashing after me. I'm screaming and I hear myself distantly. Like an animal caught in a trap, screaming and screaming and screaming. Stumbling, falling. Drag myself to my feet because it's coming and it's right on top of me and it's mouth is opening and I hear it's howl of rage. It hates me and it's angry and it's going to rip me apart. Into millions of pieces.
A face damp with sweat, eyes wide and terrified. Feet pounding the earth in a futile battle to escape. But the long, scaled hand has curled around the slender elven waist.
This...is...the...end.. I destroy you. And the scream. The scream...
The scream ripped from the mouth of the boy and he sat bolt upright in bed. His white hair was plastered to his head with sweat and he shook.
After his surroundings and reality sunk in, the boy waited to see if Faeryl had heard his scream. She was not particularly forgiving about having her sleep interrupted. Apparently, she hadn't heard him this time, so he took a few deep breaths and lay back down. He closed his eyes, hoping the dream wouldn't return. It did not, and he sunk into a more peaceful sleep.
In the morning, Faeryl gave him the task of scrubbing the chapel floors. She was still slightly angry with him for running away yesterday. He worked quietly and steadfastly, giving her nothing to complain about. She sat on a bench, reading a book and watching him.
When he had finished his job, he came to her, carrying his bucket and rag.
"Done!" he announced happily.
"Then put the bucket away."
The boy turned around and as he took a step towards the door, his foot landed on a spider.
For a moment, both the boy and his sister were frozen. He had just committed a serious blasphemy. The boy felt his mouth go dry. He heard a distant roaring his ears, perhaps the sound of the whole world crumbling around him.
His sister got to her feet, pulled her whip from her belt and let out a furious scream. Her Goddess! The boy ran. This was not some minor or imagined infraction. This was blasphemy, treason, a crime against Lolth. If she caught him, she would kill him. Tear him apart with her whip and kill him. He was more terrified than he had ever been in his life. He ran.
He was aware of her pounding after him and it reminded him of something, (in some part of his mind where he wasn't throwing everything into running as fast as he could). Dragon...blood...fury..fear. The dream! She was the dragon, she was going to kill him, destroy him, for that spider, for her Goddess. He ran through the corridors of the house, frantic, desperate. He remembered though, that in the end of the dream, the victim was caught, that it was over. He was dead, he thought. But instinctively, he continued to run.
Then he crashed into the end of a corridor. She was coming, her whip in her hand, the snakes writhing and spitting venom. Faeryl's lips were drawn back in a rictus of hate. She despised him for being so weak and stupid, she was angry at him because he disturbed her life, and now she hated him because he had killed a spider.
He was aware of a throbbing pain throughout his entire body. His muscles and nerves were screaming in protest of being tormented like this. And somewhere inside him, a little voice was also screaming protest.
His sister was less then a foot away now, she raised her whip in one hand. Her other hand held the mace. He cringed, groping around for something to protect himself. It was futile, but everyone has an instinct of self defense. His hand closed around his small knife. He flung it blindly at her and cowered back against the wall.
He heard her shout of pain and disbelief and he looked up. The knife had struck her arm. She was bleeding and her eyes showed a strangely satisfying mixture of panic and hurt. She looked at him and there was a tiny flicker of fear in her eyes. She took a step back as he slowly stood up.
Now he understood.
He was the dragon. He was sharp claws and sharper teeth, red eyes and a gaping mouth. He was impenetrable black scales, fire and fury. And she was going to kill him for a spider. He screamed. Not in childish anger, not in fear. In pure, black hate. He lunged at her, clawing at her, itching to rip her apart with the fury of the dragon.