Disclaimer : (stretches) Ah, yes, once again I find myself sitting at the
computer in the absence of parental units attempting to conjure mystifying
text that will baffle and entertain the readers. Someone please let me
know when I succeed so I can stop writing long and pleading letters to RAS
begging for ownership of the characters. (dramatically) I now give you,
Mirror Me Dark Chapter Six, featuring my newest creations, the Gloomwood
(and ALL its inhabitants), the elf twins, Zerial and Tanarial, and Cain,
the Commander of the Wolf Brigade.
Mirror Me Dark
By Semdai Bloodquill
Chapter Six : Water and Smoke
At first glance, it seemed just like any other forest. The wide variety of trees all racing for the sky. The sunlight streaking down through the canopy like heavenly shafts and flashing like lightning when insects and birds passed through them. However, calm and peaceful as it seemed, it was no ordinary forest. Something besides the customary wildlife inhabited Gloomwood.
For one point, Gloomwood was near impossible to enter. The bordering trees grew so thickly and so closely together that one would have suspected them to have been purposefully shaped that way. It was also bordered on three sides by wide, deep ravines. The last side was nestled in the shadow of a high, steep cliff.
Nearly impossible to penetrate. Not that anyone wanted to try. The surrounding villages all avoided the wood. Children were warned never to venture to close. Hunters refused to set their traps near the trees. Even traveling elves and druids didn't dare to set foot in the shadows of the ancient trees. Many villagers swore that the forest was haunted by banshees and other vengeful spirits. Others claimed it was a nesting ground for harpies and other such foul creatures.
In the deep winter, the howls of great canines could be heard drifting up from the forest. On warm summer nights, strange music floated across the wood and chilled any and all listeners.
Of course it was such stories and legends that had first amazed Zerial and Tanarial and tempted the adventurous, young Gold Elves out of the safety of their home and into the wilds. At almost three hundred years old, the twins had already explored most of Toril's lands. Seeing Gloomwood was their lifelong dream. A dream close to fruition.
"We're tellin ya, lads," the old elder insisted, "don't go inta that wood. It's got things that only belong in a child's nightmares livin in it."
"We'll take our chances," Zerial countered politely, "we appreciate the warning but we must go there." Tanarial patted the elder on the shoulder.
"My brother and I are skilled in many forms of combat and we will not venture far," the older twin assured, "thank you for your hospitality." Without another word, the two elves shifted their traveling packs and proceeded single file down the trail that would take them to Gloomwood.
"Do you suppose we'll find a clue to the cure in this forest," Zerial asked once they were out of earshot of the village. Up ahead, Tanarial shrugged.
"I hope so, but we can't even be sure what lies in that forest," the elf reasoned. Tanarial was always the more collected and calm of the brothers. His dark, brown eyes were passive and tender, often glazed over as he stared at the stars of the night sky or the waves of the rolling ocean.
Zerial could be calm and quiet when he wanted or the situation called for it, but the younger of the brothers was an upstart. His heart belonged to the wilds and he was always out and about from the small hours before dawn until long after the twilight had descended.
Crossing the ravines provided no contest for the experienced elves, the real challenge was finding a way into the secluded forest. Everywhere they looked, the pair could find no openings wider than a finger length. Feeling the hints of frustration blooming inside them, the brothers sat down facing the widest hole they had found.
"How do you suppose the trees got that way," Zerial asked, nodding toward the closed forest.
"Wood elves maybe," Tanarial suggested.
"Possibly," Zerial agreed, "but why would they seal the forest off?"
"Good point..." Tanarial scrutinized the barrier with his eyes, "do you think there's a password or something of that nature?"
"That gives me an idea," Zerial declared. The elf hopped to his feet and rushed up to the closest tree. Placing his hands on the trunk, Zerial took a deep breath and said softly, "will you please let us through, Sir Tree?"
The tree shook and creaked. With a great groan, the limbs of the ancient plant pulled back to reveal a path into the inner forest.
~*~*~*~
Dinin charged at him with unbelievable speed, his two swords weaving an impenetrable defense before him. Monty inhaled deeply and lifted his sabers. Dinin's first sword bit at the younger drow's belly while the second slashed at his shoulder. But Monty had long since moved well out of harm's reach. The agile, little elf threw himself backward so fast and violently that he was little more than a blur, rolling away from the advancing blades and leaping into the air, sailing right over Dinin's head and landing gracefully at the older fighter's back.
' He truly is his father's son,' Dinin thought to himself as he whirled around block the sabers at his vulnerable back. Dwarven-made, mithril sabers rang against drow-made, adamantium swords. Realizing that Dinin would not be an easy opponent, Monty leapt back again. His lithe body crouched low, sabers in hand, wide, cloak-like garments flared out around him. His purple eyes burned holes in Dinin's defenses.
' This child is the grandson of Zaknafein,' Dinin reminded himself, ' such grace and prowess should be expected from one of his bloodline.'
"But my temperament is hardly suited to that of a drow," Monty countered, easily reading Dinin's thoughts. Dinin wasn't bothered by the maneuver. It had been almost a week since they had rescued him and was used to the strange habits and hobbies of his new family. Monty and Nessa could read his thoughts. Binx delighted in appearing behind him out of nowhere. Drizzt of course nearly talked his ears off every chance he got. And Sordath... Sordath was the odd ball of odd balls. He was the most fluent in Deep Drow (with the exception of Drizzt and Dinin) and would occasionally walk aimlessly down corridors murmuring things rapidly in the dark elf language. The youngest Do'Urden reminded Dinin of Zaknafein.
Monty stayed in his crouch for several seconds, his breathing slightly heavy.
"Yes, hardly," Dinin agreed, returning from his thoughts, "but you are still the descendant of the finest Weapon Master ever to walk Menzoberranzan." The older drow twirled his sword before carefully stalking toward his nephew.
"And do you wish to challenge that resume, Uncle Dinin," Monty teased, standing upright and dipping into a mock bow.
"Against such a agile opponent I fear I would lose badly," Dinin declined, putting away his swords, "you are young and full of energy. Me," he shrugged, "I'm just not as quick as I used to be. I think all those years as a drider slowed me down." Monty became suddenly solemn.
"What was it like," he asked tentatively, "being a drider?" Dinin glared at Monty for a few seconds before turning away.
"I don't wanna talk about it," he stated flatly.
Monty held up his hands, loosely holding his sabers, in surrender. He took a step back and bowed slightly. "Just curious," he explained.
"Trust me," Dinin assured, "you don't ever want to know what being a drider is like."
"I just want to understand my native race," Monty said defensively.
"Quenshin ful biazz coppon quangolth cree a drow," Dinin warned, his ruby eyes and tone serious, "remember that always, Son of Daermon Nashezbaernon."
Several moments of poignant silence passed between Dinin and Montolio before either regained his voice. Montolio felt his chest begin to ache for the second time that day.
~*~*~*~
The screams resonated in his ears, rattled his thoughts, constricted his throat. He wanted those awful cries to cease, but they wouldn't.
Clutching his ears in panic he bolted upright out of his nightmare, nearly throwing himself from his bed as he did so.
"Father!" He screamed frantically.
Dagasta stood, or rather leaned, in his doorway. Beaten and bloody, chest heaving from exhaustion, and naked from the waist up, the patron gripped the door frame for support as his legs nearly gave out.
"My son," he gasped, reaching toward his golden-eyed boy. He never made it. The wounded patron collapsed, his energy gone. "My... dear... son..." His words came out as a wheeze.
"Father," Zandrath howled.
A bright flash and a sudden thump roused the young drow from his dreams. His head felt as though it were split in two. Dantrag stood over him, a makeshift club held slack in his left hand, his angular face sporting a simple expression.
"You woke me with your absurd dreams again," Dantrag accused.
"Sorry," Zandrath apologized halfheartedly, "I had that nightmare again."
"Obviously," Dantrag stated sarcastically.
"Well how would you feel if your father stumbled into your room all bloody and near death," Zandrath snapped, his single, golden eye glaring at his uncle.
Dantrag shrugged, "I never knew my father, he was given to Lloth when my mother learned that I would be a male. It's not like I ever had any fatherly figure like you have." Zandrath's tone and face softened.
"He died just because you were born a male," the young drow repeated, " you know what?"
"No, what," Dantrag snapped.
"Our society is really screwed up," Zandrath pointed out sadly.
"And when did you notice this," Dantrag questioned, retaining his acidic tone.
"We are indeed a powerful race," Zandrath continued, ignoring Dantrag's sarcasm, "but we could be so much more powerful if males were allowed to rise alongside the females. We are wasting half of our population by making males little more than slaves." Dantrag listened to Zandrath intently. "And Lloth needs to be brought down," Zandrath rose from his bed and leaned on one arm against the wall as he spoke, "what good is a goddess that will damn you in the long run anyway? This plague that's running through our cities, I think it's a sign that we're gonna die out soon."
Dantrag remembered vividly the disease. He'd seen Baenre soldiers collapse, choking and retching up great gushes of blood. Commoners so wasted that they could no longer even open their rotted eyes. Mages who died suffering because their organs had dissolved. Even priestesses suffocating because their lungs were so full of blood that they could no longer breathe.
"Nobody can escape it," Zandrath said sullenly, "not even Lloth's highest priestesses can so much as slow its effects." The young drow leaned heavily against the wall and was silent for several seconds. After a time, he straightened and slipped his tunic on over his bare chest. "I'm going to see my father," he declared, striding swiftly from the room, "maybe you don't care about yours but I'm not like you."
"No," Dantrag agreed when the younger fighter was out of earshot, "you're not like me, Zandrath. You try to understand what cannot be understood. Me, I just don't care," Dantrag put a hand to his chest and felt the still open wound, "you also shouldn't be dead right now."
~*~*~*~
Out Haven was like no place Lazuli had ever seen. Like any other port city, Out Haven was swarming with merchants, but the entire city was a black market. Anything could be bought in Out Haven from slaves to exotic pets and back again. There were brothels on nearly every corner and merchant stands lining every street. It reminded Lazuli of Calimport.
"Almost like home," her escort commented, his eyes scanning the urban scenery.
"Almost," Lazuli agreed, "when do I meet Seivriel?"
"When we get there," the guide Eleanor had assigned to the young assassin pointed to a high bluff that appeared to have a fortress carved into it. Towers and balconies decorated the palace-like structure and all manor of winged creatures circled overhead.
"What is that place?" Lazuli shaded her eyes and squinted, she was sure she had just seen a drake or a small dragon pass over the palace.
"That is the Ebony Manor," the guide explained, "the central headquarters of Commodore Dead Girl."
An eerie howl preceded a great Winter Wolf as it charged through the gates of Ebony Manor and bounded toward them. The wolf stopped before Lazuli and her escort, its icy breath coming in pants and its wicked, yellow eyes staring expectedly at Lazuli. There was a strange sort of saddle on the wolf's back, perhaps meant for a rider, and a strip of black leather bearing the crest of Seivriel Versail around its neck.
"You are the assassin Lazuli Entreri," the wolf demanded in a deep, throaty voice.
"I am," Lazuli admitted boldly.
"You are to accompany me to see my Mistress," the wolf notified, kneeling down on his front paws to allow Lazuli to climb onto his back, "we are to depart immediately. My Mistress is expecting you."
"I will leave you in the captain's care then," the pirate guide notified, bowing and vanishing in a puff of gray smoke.
"Captain," Lazuli questioned skeptically, eyeing the wolf.
"I am Cain, Out Haven's Captain of the Guard and the Commander of the Wolf Brigade," the wolf proclaimed, "this city is ever under the care of myself and my soldiers. Now if you would be so kind, milady, we must be going."
Boldly, Lazuli stepped forward and vaulted onto Cain's back. She settled on top of his shoulders and fastened the saddle straps. With a loud, commanding howl, Cain bolted down the street. Left and right, the civilians rushed to the sides to clear the great wolf's path.
~*~*~*~
Triel knelt before her personal alter, praying furiously to the Spider Queen. Patience had never been one of her virtues and the ever ambitious matron was anxious as to the sex of her newly conceived child.
The unruly female was truly surprised. She had known many mates in her life but Dagasta had surprised her that night, exactly one week ago. Not only had he actually pleasured her during the process, something few males had ever done, but he had somehow survived the act, something even fewer had done.
The strange male puzzled Triel. Many times she had consulted denizens of the lower planes as to the male's past, every time her minions were unable to see more than his present. She knew that Dagasta was a rogue with no family left and that he had been the Weapon Master of is previous house before its fall.
When she delved into his mind, or rather tried to, his thoughts and memories were utterly closed to her prying eyes. Almost as if he knew she was looking and had deleted the information. He never ceased to astound her. His unique, two-toned eyes, his never faltering grace, his audacity to push at the limits of his station. Truly he was one of a kind.
Realizing that her thoughts had gone astray, Triel hastily returned to the questioned being presented to the Spider Queen. Dagasta would come later.
~*~*~*~
Under the trees, Gloomwood was well-named. What little light that filtered down through the thick canopy was lost in the twisting, churning shadows of the great trees. In addition, every turn seemed identical to the previous one. Naturally after an hour of wandering, the twins were quite lost.
But never being the panicking types, the two elves did their best to remain calm. In fact, they were trying so hard to remain calm that they failed to notice the dark shape tailing them.
"I think we've passed this tree before," Zerial stated glumly, leaning against an old, ash tree. Tanarial sat down heavily and motioned for his brother to do the same.
"Let's think," Tanarial reasoned, "the forest is bordered on the north by cliffs and on all three other sides by ravines. Theoretically, if we continue to walk in a straight direction we will eventually reach one of these boundaries. From there we can circle the border of the forest until we find a way out."
"Good plan," Zerial agreed, "it just has one problem."
"What's that," Tanarial asked.
"I think we're being watched."
The brothers both perked up their ears and listened intently for any sign of life other than their own. With their keen eyes, they scanned the forest around them, eventually stopping on a particularly tall ash tree about ten meters away. Carefully, Zerial took out his longbow and strung it. Knocking an arrow and taking aim at the tree, the elf let his missile fly.
There was a startled cry and a thud as something humanoid fell from the tree and landed hard on the ground below. Tentatively the pair stalked over to the fallen figure, Tanarial now readying his own bow.
"Be you alive give us sign of peace or we will shoot," Zerial warned, taking aim once again.
With a slight whimper, the figure manage to raise himself up on his elbows. The second his dark eyes saw the pair of Gold elves advancing on him, he laid his head down and said in a sad, melodic voice, "If your intent is to kill me then I beg of you to do so without delay."
"What are you," Zerial gasped.
The being seemed like an elf but his skin was a golden, bronze color and his hair and eyes were jet black. He lay face down with his forehead touching the ground and his slender chest heaving, as if in pain or exhaustion.
"My name is Spinalo," the being said slowly, "I am a scout and servant of the Queen of Gloomwood." Zerial lowered his bow.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Spinalo," he apologized, "I'm Zerial and this is my brother, Tanarial." Zerial knelt next to Spinalo and helped the fallen elf to a sitting position.
"Glad I am to meet you, Zerial and Tanarial," Spinalo panted, "I apologize for startling you earlier, but it is my duty to investigate intruders of the Gloomwood."
"We're a bit lost actually," Tanarial admitted, "could you perhaps show us the way out?"
"Not with out the Queen's permission," Spinalo shook his head slowly, " once you enter this forest you cannot leave without first asking her. Even the reasoning inhabitants may not venture beyond the borders without her leave. And I fear I could not show you anyway."
"Why not," Zerial questioned.
"It would seem that I was considerably higher up than the last time I fell out of a tree," Spinalo winced painfully as he touched his side. Gingerly, Spinalo lifted the edge of his dark green tunic, sure enough, his ribs were already showing signs of major bruising.
"I'm so sorry," Zerial apologized again, "if I'd known you weren't an enemy..." Spinalo waved his slender hand passively.
"The fault is equally mine," he assured, "but the time is drawing near for me to report back to the palace and I must ask that you accompany me there peacefully."
"How will we get there wit you hurt like this," Tanarial questioned. Spinalo smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled deeply and blew a long, high whistle. When he reopened his eyes the sound of rustling feathers was approaching. Seemingly out of nowhere, a raven landed on Spinalo's knee and cawed expectantly.
Spinalo leaned forward and whispered something in the raven's ear. With a deep caw the bird took flight again and disappeared.
"Fei says he will return shortly with mounts," Spinalo notified. The brothers were stunned.
"You can speak to animals," Zerial gasped.
"Are you a Druid," Tanarial asked.
"Hardly," Spinalo laughed, "I was born and raised in this wood as was most of my people and we are all able to communicate with the inhabitants of our forest."
"You're a Drandil," Tanarial realized, wonder in his voice, "one of the lost Dragon Elves."
"You really think so," Spinalo questioned slyly.
"You look like an elf but elves do not have brown skin and black eyes," Tanarial continued, "you speak with animals as fluently as you speak Common Tongue. What else could you be?"
"A ranger who has seen a lot of sun," Spinalo suggested.
"I believe my brother is right," Zerial joined, "the reason Gloomwood is impenetrable is because it's a Drandil forest, the reason no one can leave once they enter is because you have to stay hidden."
"And do you know WHY we have to hide," Spinalo asked, his face and tone turning dark.
"The old elves say that the drandil are allies of the drow and wielders of evil magic," Tanarial stated blankly. Spinalo's black eyes softened and his brown furrowed with sadness. He hugged his knees and laid his head against his thin arms.
"So much hatred our lighter cousins bore for us," Spinalo sighed, "so much anger, so much contempt, so many misplaced feelings." The dragon elf gave a heavily sigh and turned to Tanarial, his slender throat bared. "If you bear the same hatred for my kind then I will hold against you no ill feelings if you wish to cut my throat."
"Why would I want to cut you throat, Spinalo," Tanarial gasped, "you've done nothing to me or Zerial worth dying over!" Spinalo sank back against the tree.
"If only your ancestors were as wise as you and your brother," he lamented, "so many of my people were murdered at the hands of angry light elves that we almost died out," a tear slipped down Spinalo's gaunt cheek, "and we could not even defend ourselves against our cousins."
"Why not," Zerial asked gently, scooting closer to the dragon elf.
"Drandil cherish life above all things," Spinalo explained, "for a drandil to take a life in anger or vengeance or even in defense taints that drandil's blood. When innocent drandil are killed for unjust reasons their blood forever stains the hands of their killers." Spinalo inhaled deeply and gripped his bruised side. "Most drandil would rather give up their lives than taint the blood of their offspring."
The cawing of the returning Fei shook the trio out of their trance. Four Winter Wolves stood before them, each one mounted by a dragon elf in scale armor and with blades at ready.
"Are you all right, Spinalo," the leader growled, keeping her black eyes on Zerial and Tanarial. Her mount, an enormous wolf still wearing its summer coat, snarled in its throat.
"A bit bruised but not badly injured, Aires," Spinalo returned, getting to his feet, "allow me to introduce Tanarial and Zerial. Cousins who are lost in our wood and require the guidance of the Queen." Aires snorted through her sharp nose, but motioned for the other three members of her group that the two Golds would accompany them.
"Mount quick and hold tight," she snapped, "if you fall off, you'll have to wander the forest until you die of starvation or another patrol takes you in, for we will not stop." Without another word, Aires turned and spurred her wolf north.
~*~*~*~
Zandrath touched his father's forehead, gently letting his thoughts travel through his fingers and into the unconscious patron's brain. Returned feelings of reassurance and comfort coursed up his arm and into his own thoughts. A smile crossed Zandrath's angular face. It was good to know the Dagasta was still with him.
"What are you doing here," Antioch's cold voice snarled from the doorway.
"I could ask you the same question," Zandrath countered tonelessly, "but I don't care."
"You are pathetic," Antioch spat, stalking into the room and circling his brother like a vulture over a carcass, "you hang around him like you want so badly for him to wake up."
"Maybe I am and maybe I do," Zandrath returned, "but what you think doesn't matter to me. I see you to be as blind as the rest of this city as to the true potential of the drow race."
"Spoken like a true son of mine," Triel commented from the doorway. Instinctively, the brothers knelt with bowed heads before their matron. " I have made many decisions regarding the two of you." Triel paused as if daring her sons to speak. When they both remained silent, she continued, " you both knew I have conceived recently and I have asked Lolth for an answer regarding the child's sex." Zandrath held his breath. "The Spider Queen says the child will be female. For that I will keep my word and return this to you, Zandrath," Triel held out her hand and dropped a golden- colored eye at Zandrath's feet. The drow male did not move to pick it up. "Do you not wish for the return of your eye," Triel asked slyly.
"I would not wish to take it without permission, my Matron," Zandrath answered without lifting his head.
"Take back your eye my son and rise up as House Baenre's Patrol Commander," Triel ordered, grinning to herself, "Antioch, you have been called upon to serve as a Master at the Academy. You leave at the next rising of Narbondel's light."
"With all due respect, Matron," Antioch protested, "Zandrath ranked higher than myself in our class, would he not be a better candidate as Master?"
"Indeed, the Academy wanted Zandrath," Triel admitted, "but I require his skills here for my plans. Plans that only he seems fit to perform." Triel spun on her heel and departed as quickly as she had come. Zandrath scooped up his eyeball and held it in his hand for a moment, staring into the iris of his own eye.
Antioch started to say something, but Zandrath, who naturally was not interested, was already out the door and halfway down the corridor before the hotheaded drow could fully think up a sentence. Fuming with rage, Antioch glared at Dagasta's sleeping form.
"What did you give him that you denied me," he hissed.
To be continued...
AN : Damn writers block. Dam restrictions on computers time. Grrr. Oh well... (sigh)
Mirror Me Dark
By Semdai Bloodquill
Chapter Six : Water and Smoke
At first glance, it seemed just like any other forest. The wide variety of trees all racing for the sky. The sunlight streaking down through the canopy like heavenly shafts and flashing like lightning when insects and birds passed through them. However, calm and peaceful as it seemed, it was no ordinary forest. Something besides the customary wildlife inhabited Gloomwood.
For one point, Gloomwood was near impossible to enter. The bordering trees grew so thickly and so closely together that one would have suspected them to have been purposefully shaped that way. It was also bordered on three sides by wide, deep ravines. The last side was nestled in the shadow of a high, steep cliff.
Nearly impossible to penetrate. Not that anyone wanted to try. The surrounding villages all avoided the wood. Children were warned never to venture to close. Hunters refused to set their traps near the trees. Even traveling elves and druids didn't dare to set foot in the shadows of the ancient trees. Many villagers swore that the forest was haunted by banshees and other vengeful spirits. Others claimed it was a nesting ground for harpies and other such foul creatures.
In the deep winter, the howls of great canines could be heard drifting up from the forest. On warm summer nights, strange music floated across the wood and chilled any and all listeners.
Of course it was such stories and legends that had first amazed Zerial and Tanarial and tempted the adventurous, young Gold Elves out of the safety of their home and into the wilds. At almost three hundred years old, the twins had already explored most of Toril's lands. Seeing Gloomwood was their lifelong dream. A dream close to fruition.
"We're tellin ya, lads," the old elder insisted, "don't go inta that wood. It's got things that only belong in a child's nightmares livin in it."
"We'll take our chances," Zerial countered politely, "we appreciate the warning but we must go there." Tanarial patted the elder on the shoulder.
"My brother and I are skilled in many forms of combat and we will not venture far," the older twin assured, "thank you for your hospitality." Without another word, the two elves shifted their traveling packs and proceeded single file down the trail that would take them to Gloomwood.
"Do you suppose we'll find a clue to the cure in this forest," Zerial asked once they were out of earshot of the village. Up ahead, Tanarial shrugged.
"I hope so, but we can't even be sure what lies in that forest," the elf reasoned. Tanarial was always the more collected and calm of the brothers. His dark, brown eyes were passive and tender, often glazed over as he stared at the stars of the night sky or the waves of the rolling ocean.
Zerial could be calm and quiet when he wanted or the situation called for it, but the younger of the brothers was an upstart. His heart belonged to the wilds and he was always out and about from the small hours before dawn until long after the twilight had descended.
Crossing the ravines provided no contest for the experienced elves, the real challenge was finding a way into the secluded forest. Everywhere they looked, the pair could find no openings wider than a finger length. Feeling the hints of frustration blooming inside them, the brothers sat down facing the widest hole they had found.
"How do you suppose the trees got that way," Zerial asked, nodding toward the closed forest.
"Wood elves maybe," Tanarial suggested.
"Possibly," Zerial agreed, "but why would they seal the forest off?"
"Good point..." Tanarial scrutinized the barrier with his eyes, "do you think there's a password or something of that nature?"
"That gives me an idea," Zerial declared. The elf hopped to his feet and rushed up to the closest tree. Placing his hands on the trunk, Zerial took a deep breath and said softly, "will you please let us through, Sir Tree?"
The tree shook and creaked. With a great groan, the limbs of the ancient plant pulled back to reveal a path into the inner forest.
~*~*~*~
Dinin charged at him with unbelievable speed, his two swords weaving an impenetrable defense before him. Monty inhaled deeply and lifted his sabers. Dinin's first sword bit at the younger drow's belly while the second slashed at his shoulder. But Monty had long since moved well out of harm's reach. The agile, little elf threw himself backward so fast and violently that he was little more than a blur, rolling away from the advancing blades and leaping into the air, sailing right over Dinin's head and landing gracefully at the older fighter's back.
' He truly is his father's son,' Dinin thought to himself as he whirled around block the sabers at his vulnerable back. Dwarven-made, mithril sabers rang against drow-made, adamantium swords. Realizing that Dinin would not be an easy opponent, Monty leapt back again. His lithe body crouched low, sabers in hand, wide, cloak-like garments flared out around him. His purple eyes burned holes in Dinin's defenses.
' This child is the grandson of Zaknafein,' Dinin reminded himself, ' such grace and prowess should be expected from one of his bloodline.'
"But my temperament is hardly suited to that of a drow," Monty countered, easily reading Dinin's thoughts. Dinin wasn't bothered by the maneuver. It had been almost a week since they had rescued him and was used to the strange habits and hobbies of his new family. Monty and Nessa could read his thoughts. Binx delighted in appearing behind him out of nowhere. Drizzt of course nearly talked his ears off every chance he got. And Sordath... Sordath was the odd ball of odd balls. He was the most fluent in Deep Drow (with the exception of Drizzt and Dinin) and would occasionally walk aimlessly down corridors murmuring things rapidly in the dark elf language. The youngest Do'Urden reminded Dinin of Zaknafein.
Monty stayed in his crouch for several seconds, his breathing slightly heavy.
"Yes, hardly," Dinin agreed, returning from his thoughts, "but you are still the descendant of the finest Weapon Master ever to walk Menzoberranzan." The older drow twirled his sword before carefully stalking toward his nephew.
"And do you wish to challenge that resume, Uncle Dinin," Monty teased, standing upright and dipping into a mock bow.
"Against such a agile opponent I fear I would lose badly," Dinin declined, putting away his swords, "you are young and full of energy. Me," he shrugged, "I'm just not as quick as I used to be. I think all those years as a drider slowed me down." Monty became suddenly solemn.
"What was it like," he asked tentatively, "being a drider?" Dinin glared at Monty for a few seconds before turning away.
"I don't wanna talk about it," he stated flatly.
Monty held up his hands, loosely holding his sabers, in surrender. He took a step back and bowed slightly. "Just curious," he explained.
"Trust me," Dinin assured, "you don't ever want to know what being a drider is like."
"I just want to understand my native race," Monty said defensively.
"Quenshin ful biazz coppon quangolth cree a drow," Dinin warned, his ruby eyes and tone serious, "remember that always, Son of Daermon Nashezbaernon."
Several moments of poignant silence passed between Dinin and Montolio before either regained his voice. Montolio felt his chest begin to ache for the second time that day.
~*~*~*~
The screams resonated in his ears, rattled his thoughts, constricted his throat. He wanted those awful cries to cease, but they wouldn't.
Clutching his ears in panic he bolted upright out of his nightmare, nearly throwing himself from his bed as he did so.
"Father!" He screamed frantically.
Dagasta stood, or rather leaned, in his doorway. Beaten and bloody, chest heaving from exhaustion, and naked from the waist up, the patron gripped the door frame for support as his legs nearly gave out.
"My son," he gasped, reaching toward his golden-eyed boy. He never made it. The wounded patron collapsed, his energy gone. "My... dear... son..." His words came out as a wheeze.
"Father," Zandrath howled.
A bright flash and a sudden thump roused the young drow from his dreams. His head felt as though it were split in two. Dantrag stood over him, a makeshift club held slack in his left hand, his angular face sporting a simple expression.
"You woke me with your absurd dreams again," Dantrag accused.
"Sorry," Zandrath apologized halfheartedly, "I had that nightmare again."
"Obviously," Dantrag stated sarcastically.
"Well how would you feel if your father stumbled into your room all bloody and near death," Zandrath snapped, his single, golden eye glaring at his uncle.
Dantrag shrugged, "I never knew my father, he was given to Lloth when my mother learned that I would be a male. It's not like I ever had any fatherly figure like you have." Zandrath's tone and face softened.
"He died just because you were born a male," the young drow repeated, " you know what?"
"No, what," Dantrag snapped.
"Our society is really screwed up," Zandrath pointed out sadly.
"And when did you notice this," Dantrag questioned, retaining his acidic tone.
"We are indeed a powerful race," Zandrath continued, ignoring Dantrag's sarcasm, "but we could be so much more powerful if males were allowed to rise alongside the females. We are wasting half of our population by making males little more than slaves." Dantrag listened to Zandrath intently. "And Lloth needs to be brought down," Zandrath rose from his bed and leaned on one arm against the wall as he spoke, "what good is a goddess that will damn you in the long run anyway? This plague that's running through our cities, I think it's a sign that we're gonna die out soon."
Dantrag remembered vividly the disease. He'd seen Baenre soldiers collapse, choking and retching up great gushes of blood. Commoners so wasted that they could no longer even open their rotted eyes. Mages who died suffering because their organs had dissolved. Even priestesses suffocating because their lungs were so full of blood that they could no longer breathe.
"Nobody can escape it," Zandrath said sullenly, "not even Lloth's highest priestesses can so much as slow its effects." The young drow leaned heavily against the wall and was silent for several seconds. After a time, he straightened and slipped his tunic on over his bare chest. "I'm going to see my father," he declared, striding swiftly from the room, "maybe you don't care about yours but I'm not like you."
"No," Dantrag agreed when the younger fighter was out of earshot, "you're not like me, Zandrath. You try to understand what cannot be understood. Me, I just don't care," Dantrag put a hand to his chest and felt the still open wound, "you also shouldn't be dead right now."
~*~*~*~
Out Haven was like no place Lazuli had ever seen. Like any other port city, Out Haven was swarming with merchants, but the entire city was a black market. Anything could be bought in Out Haven from slaves to exotic pets and back again. There were brothels on nearly every corner and merchant stands lining every street. It reminded Lazuli of Calimport.
"Almost like home," her escort commented, his eyes scanning the urban scenery.
"Almost," Lazuli agreed, "when do I meet Seivriel?"
"When we get there," the guide Eleanor had assigned to the young assassin pointed to a high bluff that appeared to have a fortress carved into it. Towers and balconies decorated the palace-like structure and all manor of winged creatures circled overhead.
"What is that place?" Lazuli shaded her eyes and squinted, she was sure she had just seen a drake or a small dragon pass over the palace.
"That is the Ebony Manor," the guide explained, "the central headquarters of Commodore Dead Girl."
An eerie howl preceded a great Winter Wolf as it charged through the gates of Ebony Manor and bounded toward them. The wolf stopped before Lazuli and her escort, its icy breath coming in pants and its wicked, yellow eyes staring expectedly at Lazuli. There was a strange sort of saddle on the wolf's back, perhaps meant for a rider, and a strip of black leather bearing the crest of Seivriel Versail around its neck.
"You are the assassin Lazuli Entreri," the wolf demanded in a deep, throaty voice.
"I am," Lazuli admitted boldly.
"You are to accompany me to see my Mistress," the wolf notified, kneeling down on his front paws to allow Lazuli to climb onto his back, "we are to depart immediately. My Mistress is expecting you."
"I will leave you in the captain's care then," the pirate guide notified, bowing and vanishing in a puff of gray smoke.
"Captain," Lazuli questioned skeptically, eyeing the wolf.
"I am Cain, Out Haven's Captain of the Guard and the Commander of the Wolf Brigade," the wolf proclaimed, "this city is ever under the care of myself and my soldiers. Now if you would be so kind, milady, we must be going."
Boldly, Lazuli stepped forward and vaulted onto Cain's back. She settled on top of his shoulders and fastened the saddle straps. With a loud, commanding howl, Cain bolted down the street. Left and right, the civilians rushed to the sides to clear the great wolf's path.
~*~*~*~
Triel knelt before her personal alter, praying furiously to the Spider Queen. Patience had never been one of her virtues and the ever ambitious matron was anxious as to the sex of her newly conceived child.
The unruly female was truly surprised. She had known many mates in her life but Dagasta had surprised her that night, exactly one week ago. Not only had he actually pleasured her during the process, something few males had ever done, but he had somehow survived the act, something even fewer had done.
The strange male puzzled Triel. Many times she had consulted denizens of the lower planes as to the male's past, every time her minions were unable to see more than his present. She knew that Dagasta was a rogue with no family left and that he had been the Weapon Master of is previous house before its fall.
When she delved into his mind, or rather tried to, his thoughts and memories were utterly closed to her prying eyes. Almost as if he knew she was looking and had deleted the information. He never ceased to astound her. His unique, two-toned eyes, his never faltering grace, his audacity to push at the limits of his station. Truly he was one of a kind.
Realizing that her thoughts had gone astray, Triel hastily returned to the questioned being presented to the Spider Queen. Dagasta would come later.
~*~*~*~
Under the trees, Gloomwood was well-named. What little light that filtered down through the thick canopy was lost in the twisting, churning shadows of the great trees. In addition, every turn seemed identical to the previous one. Naturally after an hour of wandering, the twins were quite lost.
But never being the panicking types, the two elves did their best to remain calm. In fact, they were trying so hard to remain calm that they failed to notice the dark shape tailing them.
"I think we've passed this tree before," Zerial stated glumly, leaning against an old, ash tree. Tanarial sat down heavily and motioned for his brother to do the same.
"Let's think," Tanarial reasoned, "the forest is bordered on the north by cliffs and on all three other sides by ravines. Theoretically, if we continue to walk in a straight direction we will eventually reach one of these boundaries. From there we can circle the border of the forest until we find a way out."
"Good plan," Zerial agreed, "it just has one problem."
"What's that," Tanarial asked.
"I think we're being watched."
The brothers both perked up their ears and listened intently for any sign of life other than their own. With their keen eyes, they scanned the forest around them, eventually stopping on a particularly tall ash tree about ten meters away. Carefully, Zerial took out his longbow and strung it. Knocking an arrow and taking aim at the tree, the elf let his missile fly.
There was a startled cry and a thud as something humanoid fell from the tree and landed hard on the ground below. Tentatively the pair stalked over to the fallen figure, Tanarial now readying his own bow.
"Be you alive give us sign of peace or we will shoot," Zerial warned, taking aim once again.
With a slight whimper, the figure manage to raise himself up on his elbows. The second his dark eyes saw the pair of Gold elves advancing on him, he laid his head down and said in a sad, melodic voice, "If your intent is to kill me then I beg of you to do so without delay."
"What are you," Zerial gasped.
The being seemed like an elf but his skin was a golden, bronze color and his hair and eyes were jet black. He lay face down with his forehead touching the ground and his slender chest heaving, as if in pain or exhaustion.
"My name is Spinalo," the being said slowly, "I am a scout and servant of the Queen of Gloomwood." Zerial lowered his bow.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Spinalo," he apologized, "I'm Zerial and this is my brother, Tanarial." Zerial knelt next to Spinalo and helped the fallen elf to a sitting position.
"Glad I am to meet you, Zerial and Tanarial," Spinalo panted, "I apologize for startling you earlier, but it is my duty to investigate intruders of the Gloomwood."
"We're a bit lost actually," Tanarial admitted, "could you perhaps show us the way out?"
"Not with out the Queen's permission," Spinalo shook his head slowly, " once you enter this forest you cannot leave without first asking her. Even the reasoning inhabitants may not venture beyond the borders without her leave. And I fear I could not show you anyway."
"Why not," Zerial questioned.
"It would seem that I was considerably higher up than the last time I fell out of a tree," Spinalo winced painfully as he touched his side. Gingerly, Spinalo lifted the edge of his dark green tunic, sure enough, his ribs were already showing signs of major bruising.
"I'm so sorry," Zerial apologized again, "if I'd known you weren't an enemy..." Spinalo waved his slender hand passively.
"The fault is equally mine," he assured, "but the time is drawing near for me to report back to the palace and I must ask that you accompany me there peacefully."
"How will we get there wit you hurt like this," Tanarial questioned. Spinalo smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled deeply and blew a long, high whistle. When he reopened his eyes the sound of rustling feathers was approaching. Seemingly out of nowhere, a raven landed on Spinalo's knee and cawed expectantly.
Spinalo leaned forward and whispered something in the raven's ear. With a deep caw the bird took flight again and disappeared.
"Fei says he will return shortly with mounts," Spinalo notified. The brothers were stunned.
"You can speak to animals," Zerial gasped.
"Are you a Druid," Tanarial asked.
"Hardly," Spinalo laughed, "I was born and raised in this wood as was most of my people and we are all able to communicate with the inhabitants of our forest."
"You're a Drandil," Tanarial realized, wonder in his voice, "one of the lost Dragon Elves."
"You really think so," Spinalo questioned slyly.
"You look like an elf but elves do not have brown skin and black eyes," Tanarial continued, "you speak with animals as fluently as you speak Common Tongue. What else could you be?"
"A ranger who has seen a lot of sun," Spinalo suggested.
"I believe my brother is right," Zerial joined, "the reason Gloomwood is impenetrable is because it's a Drandil forest, the reason no one can leave once they enter is because you have to stay hidden."
"And do you know WHY we have to hide," Spinalo asked, his face and tone turning dark.
"The old elves say that the drandil are allies of the drow and wielders of evil magic," Tanarial stated blankly. Spinalo's black eyes softened and his brown furrowed with sadness. He hugged his knees and laid his head against his thin arms.
"So much hatred our lighter cousins bore for us," Spinalo sighed, "so much anger, so much contempt, so many misplaced feelings." The dragon elf gave a heavily sigh and turned to Tanarial, his slender throat bared. "If you bear the same hatred for my kind then I will hold against you no ill feelings if you wish to cut my throat."
"Why would I want to cut you throat, Spinalo," Tanarial gasped, "you've done nothing to me or Zerial worth dying over!" Spinalo sank back against the tree.
"If only your ancestors were as wise as you and your brother," he lamented, "so many of my people were murdered at the hands of angry light elves that we almost died out," a tear slipped down Spinalo's gaunt cheek, "and we could not even defend ourselves against our cousins."
"Why not," Zerial asked gently, scooting closer to the dragon elf.
"Drandil cherish life above all things," Spinalo explained, "for a drandil to take a life in anger or vengeance or even in defense taints that drandil's blood. When innocent drandil are killed for unjust reasons their blood forever stains the hands of their killers." Spinalo inhaled deeply and gripped his bruised side. "Most drandil would rather give up their lives than taint the blood of their offspring."
The cawing of the returning Fei shook the trio out of their trance. Four Winter Wolves stood before them, each one mounted by a dragon elf in scale armor and with blades at ready.
"Are you all right, Spinalo," the leader growled, keeping her black eyes on Zerial and Tanarial. Her mount, an enormous wolf still wearing its summer coat, snarled in its throat.
"A bit bruised but not badly injured, Aires," Spinalo returned, getting to his feet, "allow me to introduce Tanarial and Zerial. Cousins who are lost in our wood and require the guidance of the Queen." Aires snorted through her sharp nose, but motioned for the other three members of her group that the two Golds would accompany them.
"Mount quick and hold tight," she snapped, "if you fall off, you'll have to wander the forest until you die of starvation or another patrol takes you in, for we will not stop." Without another word, Aires turned and spurred her wolf north.
~*~*~*~
Zandrath touched his father's forehead, gently letting his thoughts travel through his fingers and into the unconscious patron's brain. Returned feelings of reassurance and comfort coursed up his arm and into his own thoughts. A smile crossed Zandrath's angular face. It was good to know the Dagasta was still with him.
"What are you doing here," Antioch's cold voice snarled from the doorway.
"I could ask you the same question," Zandrath countered tonelessly, "but I don't care."
"You are pathetic," Antioch spat, stalking into the room and circling his brother like a vulture over a carcass, "you hang around him like you want so badly for him to wake up."
"Maybe I am and maybe I do," Zandrath returned, "but what you think doesn't matter to me. I see you to be as blind as the rest of this city as to the true potential of the drow race."
"Spoken like a true son of mine," Triel commented from the doorway. Instinctively, the brothers knelt with bowed heads before their matron. " I have made many decisions regarding the two of you." Triel paused as if daring her sons to speak. When they both remained silent, she continued, " you both knew I have conceived recently and I have asked Lolth for an answer regarding the child's sex." Zandrath held his breath. "The Spider Queen says the child will be female. For that I will keep my word and return this to you, Zandrath," Triel held out her hand and dropped a golden- colored eye at Zandrath's feet. The drow male did not move to pick it up. "Do you not wish for the return of your eye," Triel asked slyly.
"I would not wish to take it without permission, my Matron," Zandrath answered without lifting his head.
"Take back your eye my son and rise up as House Baenre's Patrol Commander," Triel ordered, grinning to herself, "Antioch, you have been called upon to serve as a Master at the Academy. You leave at the next rising of Narbondel's light."
"With all due respect, Matron," Antioch protested, "Zandrath ranked higher than myself in our class, would he not be a better candidate as Master?"
"Indeed, the Academy wanted Zandrath," Triel admitted, "but I require his skills here for my plans. Plans that only he seems fit to perform." Triel spun on her heel and departed as quickly as she had come. Zandrath scooped up his eyeball and held it in his hand for a moment, staring into the iris of his own eye.
Antioch started to say something, but Zandrath, who naturally was not interested, was already out the door and halfway down the corridor before the hotheaded drow could fully think up a sentence. Fuming with rage, Antioch glared at Dagasta's sleeping form.
"What did you give him that you denied me," he hissed.
To be continued...
AN : Damn writers block. Dam restrictions on computers time. Grrr. Oh well... (sigh)