Disclaimer : Fresh off suspension and ready to wreak havoc on the world of fanfiction once more! AHAHA! Don't own FR! Don't care!
Mirror Me Dark
By Semdai Bloodquill
Chapter Ten : The Heart of a Draegloth
Being back at sea brought a small measure of peace to Deudermont. The crisp, cold air. The white of the surf. The roar of the waves. And the sight of the pirate ship ahead of them.
"Do not let her get away this time," the old captain ordered. After losing the pirate twice already, Deudermont was determined to succeed or die trying.
Eleanor stared at the rival ship in disbelief. How could the pirate hunter tail them like this for so long? What did they want? The skeletal captain growled angrily. She needed to dock soon, but with this hunter dogging her she couldn't risk it.
Then it came to her.
She wasn't being chased. She was being tracked. This hunter wanted her to dock so they could learn the location of her hideaway. Eleanor glared at the hunter and strode toward the upper deck.
"Tailing us this hunter is," she stated to her first mate, "for battle prepare."
"To arms, men," the mate shouted, "we turn and fight like wolves rather than run like dogs!" A cheer went up from the crew as battle positions were taken up.
Eleanor pulled a hand mirror from one of her many pockets and gazed into it. The glassy surface clouded over and Seivriel's face appeared.
"What is it Eleanor," the pirate's face asked.
"Fight I must," Eleanor replied, "'til death." Seivriel's face became solemn.
"Ryu o itei," the pirate leader said sadly, "go with the dragons." The mirror darkened and returned to it's glassy state.
Eleanor replaced the mirror and took her place at the bow.
"'til death," she repeated....
Seivriel bowed her head and ran her long fingers through her hair. She sighed and her heart felt heavy.
"What ails you," Drizzt asked gently, coming to stand beside her outside. The pirate looked up at him. Then she turned away and let her black eyes drift over the tundra.
"A friend of mine is going to die soon," she said quietly, "and there is nothing I can do to help her."
"I'm sorry," Drizzt offered.
"Don't be," Seivriel said, "Eleanor should have died years ago, but I wouldn't let her. I used a spell forbidden to common mages to preserve her life, but I didn't learn until later what I had done to her. I hadn't stopped Eleanor's death, I had merely stretched it out. She's been dying slowly for years now."
Drizzt had nothing to say back. What could he say? Seivriel's long cloak billowed around her as she stared mindlessly at the muddy snow.
"I'm sorry for the death of your son," she offered somberly, "I can only imagine how terrible it must be to lose your child when they're so young."
"Thank you for your sympathy," Drizzt replied quietly.
"Lazuli wants to return to Calimport at once," the pirate stated, changing the subject. Drizzt was silent. "Will you deny aid to the daughter of your enemy, Drizzt Do'Urden?"
"Her father does not know that I am still alive," the ranger replied.
"Do you fear that he will be the same as when you left him?" Drizzt found that he couldn't answer. "He's very different from what he was twenty years ago," Seivriel continued, "Lazuli is a testament to that change."
"Who is her mother," Drizzt finally spoke up. It was Seivriel's turn to be silent for a time. Drizzt's purple eyes bore into her.
"I am," she replied. How were two simple words so hard to say? " And she must not know," Seivriel added strongly, "Artemis and I decided it would be better if I stayed in the shadows, because of what I am." Drizzt took this information stoically.
"What are you exactly," the ranger asked, "you seem at least part elf."
"Have you heard of the dreagloth," Seivriel returned. Drizzt nodded, all drow knew of the dreagloth. They were powerful creatures, half fiend and half elf. In Menzoberranzan, they were considered precious gifts of Lloth. Many a daring priestess had attempted to couple with the great fiends of the Abyss in order to produce a dreagloth and lost their lives.
"I know the dreagloth," Drizzt said solemnly.
"My mother was a mighty Balor," Seivriel stated, "and my father, a mighty drandil sorcerer. My father summoned me up from the Abyss when I was a baby and brought me to the Material Plane. I look like my father but I have my mother's powers. My father told me I must never have children for they would be monstrous. Lazuli is lucky to look normal, but she must not know that she is part demon until she is ready."
"You are part drandil," Drizzt marveled, "haven't the dragon elves have been missing for centuries?"
"They survive but they are almost extinct," Seivriel explained, "my father's people are lead by a wise and ancient queen. The last surviving child of the great Zembral Tavalone. She is the only reason the dragon elves are alive."
"I have heard stories of Zembral Tavalone," Drizzt admitted, "she lived during the time when the drow were driven into the Underdark. If one of her children is still living they would be thousands of years old now."
"I had the great honor of seeing the White Queen once before I left the city of the drandil," she is indeed thousands of years old." Seivriel paused for a moment. "Drandil have black eyes and hair and skin that's dark and bronze colored. The White Queen is so old that there is no color left in her body. Her eyes, hair, and skin are snow white."
"Such longevity is a rare thing," Drizzt commented.
"Drandil are very long lived creatures," Seivriel continued, "Lazuli is only one quarter drandil but she will still out-live any half-elf." The pirate was silent for many seconds. "Please don't tell her any of this."
"I will not tell her," the ranger promised. His eyes told Seivriel that she could trust him.....
The opening of a door somewhere told Jarlaxle that Entreri was back. Where the old assassin had gone, the drow didn't know. But he was back now.
To Jarlaxle's great surprise, Entreri came right to his room and stood in the doorway. The old assassin didn't speak at first. Entreri finally sighed and tossed a drawstring bag at Jarlaxle.
The drow caught the bag easily, but was unsure if he should open it.
"A gift for me?" Jarlaxle stared at Entreri, "you shouldn't have."
"Just open the bag," Entreri sighed.
Jarlaxle tugged open the strings and reached into the bag, his fingers touched something soft and warm. Curious, he pulled the furry thing out of the bag.
Two, big, golden eyes stared at him from a small pointed face. The creatures ears were vertical on its furry head. Tiny paws gripped Jarlaxle's hand. The animal squeaked and began to sniff the drow, finding him acceptable it lay down on his chest and began to purr.
"It's so cute," Jarlaxle marveled, running his hand across he animal's soft fur, admiring her black and silver stripes and white paws. " What is this creature?"
"She's a kitten," Entreri explained stiffly, "humans keep them as pets."
"She's adorable," Jarlaxle remarked.
"Glad you like her," Entreri said, "you'll have to give her a name."
"Vellsharess," Jarlaxle decided after a moment of thought, "she'll be my little queen."
"You can talk to her when I'm not around," Entreri added, "this way you can't complain to me about being lonely." Entreri turned to leave.
"Thank you," Jarlaxle called after him.
Entreri stopped for a moment but he could not bring himself to turn around and face his dying companion....
Antioch knelt before his mother with respect. Anything less and he might have been flogged, but Triel seemed to be in an oddly pleasant mood.
"Rise Antioch," the Matron willed. Antioch stood but kept his head down. "I have a task for you," Triel appeared almost giddy, "I wish you to lead the new troops we just acquired to your brother and join him in his march." Antioch wanted to pinch himself, he was so delighted. "Lastly, I want you to give Zandrath this." Triel held up a small, thin parcel. "Give this one to your brother and keep this other for yourself." The matron produced an identical package and tossed them both to Antioch, who caught them easily. " Leave when your troops are ready. I have already sent instructions to Zandrath to await you at the surface. You are dismissed."
Antioch bowed again before leaving. Once outside he pocketed Zandrath'a package and tore open his own. Inside lay a dagger. There were emeralds set into the pommel and hand guard. The blade itself was as black as his skin and all eight inches of it were serrated like teeth. At first sight, Antioch was compelled to touch the fine dirk. When he did he felt a strong surge of energy course up his arm and settle in his poisoned heart.
Are you ready to kill him now? The voice was eager, hungry, and willful.....
Zandrath tied his rothe skin hammock between two short stalagmites. The golden eyed drow swung himself slowly back and forth in boredom. Dag, which was the name Dagasta preferred to be called by, was off organizing the scouts and Dantrag was resting. Camp was dull.
They were waiting for Antioch and his soldiers to arrive. In the meantime, they were to scout the surrounding surface area as extensively as possible, draw maps and tactics for possible battles, set up a base of operations, and other things a war party was supposed to do.
Zandrath, as Commander, was in charge of keeping the group secret and protected. He selected the sentries, analyzed the reports from the scouts, and even explored the outside terrain a bit himself. But now that it was midday, everyone was ordered to stay within the base. Not even Zandrath could go out.
"Bored," asked Dantrag as he entered Zandrath's quarters, said space being a small side cave.
"Thoroughly," Zandrath replied dryly, "I wish we could go out during the day."
"You'd be blinded," Dantrag stated flatly, "then you'd be useless in battle." Zandrath turned his head all the way to the right until Dantrag was fully in his sights.
"We are trained to fight blindly if necessary," he reminded, "and what of the fabled Drizzt Do'Urden? He lives on the surface and by all accounts his sight is as good as any drow."
"You have never seen the eyes of Drizzt Do'Urden," Dantrag returned darkly, "his eyes are not those of a normal drow."
"What of our eyes then," Zandrath pointed out smartly, "my golden eyes are surely not normal and yours are no different, save for their turning red on occasion. Antioch's eyes are green as emeralds. And Dag's eyes are each a different color."
"Drizzt Do'Urden has purple eyes."
"Purple? I've never heard of a drow having purple eyes."
"Apparently, when he was born his sisters held a lit candle before his eyes and he did not so much as squint," Dantrag recounted the stories he had heard.
"Perhaps he was a mistake," Zandrath offered softly.
"In more ways than one," Dantrag snorted.
"No, that's not what I mean," Zandrath corrected, "I wonder if we are born because of the will of some guiding force."
"You mean Lady Lloth," Dantrag asked.
"As an example, yes," the golden-eyed boy continued, speaking in his soft, sad voice, "I wonder if perhaps the gods we serve are those that give us our souls. If so, then Drizzt Do'Urden may have been a mistake by one of the gods. A follower of a different deity born in a drow body instead of say a surface elf. Would that not offer some explanation to him." Zandrath was quiet for some time, his head rolled back to its center, he began to fiddle idly with his long hair. "Or perhaps we are here because of something inside us that has compelled us here. As if some power in our psyche has pushed us to this. We are about to fight one of the greatest battles of our lives," he said after his long silence, "Whatever the case I should like one day to meet this Drizzt Do'Urden."
"You will be killed," Dantrag stated monotonously.
"By Drizzt or by my mother when I return," Zandrath countered.
"If not one than the other," Dantrag clarified.
"My mother can burn in the deepest circle of the Abyss for all I care," Zandrath spat calmly.
"You'll be put to death for such words if a priestess hears them," Dantrag warned, "or in the very least your tongue would be cut out of your mouth."
"The clerics are always eavesdropping on me," Zandrath remarked, " I've stopped caring what they hear."
"Matron Triel will surely kill you when we return to Menzoberranzan," Dantrag remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"But that's where you're wrong..." Zandrath spoke in a way that seemed perfectly at ease for him.
"What do you mean," Dantrag questioned suspiciously.
"You're assuming that I will return," Zandrath stated calmly, "I have no wish to ever lay eyes on Menzoberranzan again." Dantrag was taken aback by his nephew's words.
"You're saying you would leave the City of Spiders? Leave for good?"
"Not just the city... The Underdark as well..."
"You are indeed mad."
"Who will miss me when I'm gone," Zandrath was slipping into another of his depression fits evidently, "will Triel lit some incense and say a prayer for my soul when I die? I doubt it. What will I amount to if I remain in Menzoberranzan? Antioch will one day push aside his cowardice and slit my throat as I sleep, so what will the point of it be? To die for the selfish and twisted ambitions of another? To die upon the blade of my own twin brother? You tell me why I should stay."
Dantrag found he could not add to Zandrath's epiphany, if that was what the young boy's depressed analogy was.
"Could you come around to my right so I can see you," Zandrath requested, seeming all the more saddened somehow. Dantrag silently obliged.
"Why would you need me to stand to your right," he asked, slightly puzzled.
"Because I couldn't see you where you were standing," Zandrath answered simply. Dantrag wondered to himself for a moment, until he remembered it was Zandrath's left eye that Antioch had cut out....
"Vatashi no mei ga itei mashou,"
The White Queen chanted softly, her hands clasped to her chest and her head bowed. Her dress rippled as if lifted by a breeze which did not exist. Her summoning chamber hummed.
"Itei shiroi ohii itei mashou."
Her acolytes recited as they sat in a circle around her, their hands joined as if in prayer
"Shiroi no mei oh itei masenka."
Shiroinohi ended, At once a great beam of light shot up from the center of the floor. It spread out like a folding door and the White Queen saw.
"Sorei vah osoroshii desyo," Shiroinohi said quietly. Her white tossed around her head violently. "It is worse than I thought. Our drow cousins are already here."
"What shall we do now my queen?"
Shiroinohi did not answer right away.
"My Queen?"
"I must go and see this young drow boy with the golden eyes," Shiroinohi stated, "send messengers to all the elven communities and ask for the presence of their leaders at a council meeting. We cannot hide in our forest any longer."
The acolytes did not think to question her.....
Eleanor fell to her knees. All around her, the Bone Ghost was losing. The pirate hunters were winning by a landslide. They had no hope. They were over-run.
"Eleanor Calicol," Deudermont called out from his position on the deck. The old captain was ringed by his warriors, who were themselves surrounded by Eleanor's dead crewmen. "Your mistress showed me honor by accepting my surrender, I will extend you that same honor. Cease this fighting and spare the lives of your men."
"But you see, Captain Deudermont, we are already dead," Eleanor returned in a lamenting voice as she stood shakily at the prow of her ship. She did not speak as she normally would have, it was almost as if she was a different person as she let flow her words, "we are a doomed crew. If we surrender, your authorities will put us to death. If we fight we will die as well. We will not be executed like rabid animals."
"Then pray tell me what has become of my ship and crew," Deudermont asked, "tell me that at least."
"My mistress has your ship and the survivors of your crew are guests in her home. Your wizard is dead though." The news was as a blow to the old captain.
"I have nothing more to tell you, Captain," Eleanor finished.
"Are you so willing to die," Deudermont asked sadly. Eleanor laughed loud and mournful.
"I have been dying for years," she returned, "if you truly wish to show me mercy, then let me continue to fight until I am slain." Eleanor brandished her sword and jumped onto the rail.
A loud twang sounded and the pirate captain froze in place. The shaft of the arrow was still quivering when she looked down and saw it lodged in her breast-bone. She was smiling broadly when she lifted her gaze. Deudermont was staring at her in what almost seemed like horror. The few surviving members of her crew wore astonished and disbelieving looks on their faces.
Eleanor grinned widely, spat a swallow of blood from her mouth, and fell backwards.
She was dead before she hit the upper deck. Her eyes were closed. Her sword lay at her side. Blood stained her wound and a smile was on her lips.
To be continued...
AN : That concludes part 2 of Mirror Me Dark. Questions? Comments? Suggestions? I'd like to hear them. Is the story still good or should I just ditch it all together? Should I go into deeper detail of my added characters' past? Probably should mention that the later chapters are going to be melancholy. I've already written part of the last chapter and it's gory... very gory. Plus some really bad things are about to happen to Zandrath and Dagasta.
Also if anybody can tell me what language the drandil are speaking (one letter is modified in my version) then I'll be very impressed. I'll try to think of some kind of cool prize. Until next time.
Truly yours,
Semdai Bloodquill