Chapter Seven

Torri was some place dark... not the comforting and enveloping darkness of the night, pointed by the silver above, but a thick pitch, of the kind that would have rendered a human completely blind. Shadowed figures surrounded her; their faces indefinite, for she had been robbed of part of her sight, but none too friendly, that much was certain. They spoke harshly, in a language she could only understand partially, a language which she did not want to understand.

The moon elf was gravely wounded, less physically, for the pain had only been passing, but morally scarred for eternity. Drow torture chambers were not a pleasant memory – in fact, they never should have been a memory at all. Torri knew now, and she would not have wished it upon anyone, not even her mortal enemies, the drow themselves, to go through one. But it was late, too late for her, and such realizations did not help her in her current position; they did nothing but increase her fear, and choke all ration, slowly forcing her into madness.

On her left side, she felt the emptiness of the precipice. It was common knowledge that her heart was going to be offered to whatever dwelled within, in exchange for who could tell what kind of favor. Could this be happening? Could she allow this to happen?

Fear shook Torri abruptly and uncontrollably, it extended from that hidden corner of inner self, and brushed over the rest of her conscious being. For a moment, she thought of simply pushing herself over the edge, before they were done preparing for the ritual. At least she would die knowing that she had been no part of the drow's evil schemes.

Die? A mere term, too hollow and small to contain the full extents of this situation. So this was the end. This was how it felt, to be so close to the edge, both physically and spiritually, that your life drifted before you, centuries reduced to the duration of mere moments, and all sense of actual time was lost, unimportant.

But the moon elf did not wish to die. This was not the end she had imagined, on the few occasions she had been more aware that such a moment had to come, inevitably. It was a tremendous effort, that of gathering all bits of your spirit that were still sane, all remainders of ration and organized thought, and once more put them at work altogether, when you thought the effort was vain, when you saw no glimmer of hope coming from anything you could possibly imagine.

They had made a mistake, however, and though most likely a minor one, of no consequence to the general turn of events, she had to try. They had removed her chains before the sacrifice was truly ready to begin. Crossing the only obstacle, that of the immense gathering of weariness, the remembrance of pain still present in every living fiber of her body, Torri rose; she jumped to her feet, with the desperate quickness of one who has run out of time for now and forever.

She grabbed the nearest flail, disregarding the fact that its 'support' was not a weapon rack, but a living person, a drow priestess, even, and she pulled at it, she clung and tugged fiercely. The advantage of a surprise was hers, as well as that of her would-be sacrificers having disregarded and underestimated the will to live that anyone seemed to suddenly find on the verge of the abyss. One step away from the unknown, life tended to gain an inestimable value, one that Torri could clearly see right now, one that was enough to drive her, to fuel and provide her with as much energy as she needed to escape.

She spun and swung, blindly, she received a couple of hits, which seemed to be falling upon stone, or upon someone else's body. Inside her, there were thoughts and strength for only one thing – to break free. Even the pain was unimportant. Even those that her chaotic ordeal threw into the same precipice they had prepared for her held no meaning.

And finally, there was an opening. They stepped back from this unnatural burst of desire, from this rampaging blind attack of one who simply could not cope with her fate. Without hesitation, she ran. She threw the mace off and pulled away with such force that even the many hands attempting to grab her, stop her, hold her were rendered useless.

They pursued, but her drive was stronger, her motivation more solid, and she prevailed. Finally, there was only silence beside her own gradually faltering steps and water dripping somewhere in the background. And there was exhaustion, and the thud of her knees against stone, then that of her chest. And there was blackness.

Voices awoke her; yet another unknown language. But these weren't hostile... more rather, apprehensive, curious... worried? No... wait. This last voice didn't belong here. It had spoken common and it was part of some very distant future, which she had every reason to be in right now.

Torri opened her eyes and pulled herself up in only an abrupt instant, her breathing slightly accelerated, and fear engraved into her beautiful elven features. "What..." she began, weakly, her eyes adrift along the ship she remembered to have boarded a little while ago. She had lied down in a corner of the deck and fallen asleep. She steadied herself.

"Are you a'ight, Miss... Toreen, as I recall?" the captain inquired, worriedly, looking down on her from his full height. "Your rest was uneasy."

Torri nodded, before recomposing enough of her visage and inner self to be able to word a reply. "Nothing but a nightmare," she forced the most difficult of smiles ever. "Thank you for your concern."

"We're 'bout to leave," the sailor switched subjects. "An' your two friends're late."

"Nirra is always a little late," Torri nodded, rather absently, as she was standing up. She was on her feet in a matter of seconds.

"They'd do well an' hurry," the man grunted. "I canna keep them men o' mine in line much longer."

"I'm sure they will arrive, if you just give them a few more mo-"

Torri was cut short by the burst of two ellipsoidal forms of bluish light and smoke, which were quick to appear at their right, out of pure nowhere. Soon, the all too familiar forms of Nirra and Knave materialized in a flash, while the rings began to fade away all around them, leaving them veiled in glitter and mist, which were also quick to dissipate.

"We apologize for the delay, captain," Knave nodded in a highly conciliatory fashion. The sailor shrugged, sighing out his relief, and then beginning to whistle as he departed, making for his spot, from where he could direct his men to raise the anchor.

"A Dimension Door spell," Torri ironically simulated appreciation. "How brilliant!" She was still highly troubled, but had decided to show no sign of it at all. "It did save Nirra from being completely late again."

"I apologize," Nirra reverenced, "oh-so-always-on-time Torri the Magnificent."

"He's rubbing off on you," Torri blinked, surprisedly glancing from her gold elven friend to the human mage and back. For a few moments, there was silence, with Nirra's cheeks almost unnoticeably flushing a pale shade of pink.

"At any rate," Knave finally interrupted that, in the end. "There might have been a reason why we were late, and you could have asked. But I suppose you prefer to mock others, even those who mean you well."

He was serious, too serious, but Torri didn't take note of it and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What was that, Nirra?" She turned towards her gold elven companion, smirking. "Is our mage here just another man whose heart you've broken?"

Nirra's blush deepened, and she tried to speak, but her lips only twitched, before she decided not to say anything, and just looked away.

"I do not number myself among the victims of her pleasant company," Knave replied, beginning to amuse himself once again, or so it would have appeared. "But I do seem to be the poor innocent victim of your exceedingly charming attitude. Truly astounding. Where exactly have you learned to be so nice to others?"

Torri's visage clouded, and she shot the human a sharp glare. "Mock me all you wish, mage," she replied dryly. "I am not here to please anyone."

Knave shrugged. "Whatever," he replied, turning to tend to Nirra. "You've fallen unusually silent. Are you certain everything is fine?"

The gold elf nodded, and was just preparing to say something, too, when suddenly the ship swung about briefly, then over to the other side, as it was finally detaching from the docks, and struggling to recover the balance that this departure's beginning had deprived it of. Nirra paled slowly but visibly so, as the swinging continued, and the vessel caught speed.

"There she goes again," Torri muttered.

"I'm sure that helped her a lot," Knave rolled his eyes, as he proceeded to offering Nirra one of his arms, for support. "Here, we should probably seat you somewhere." He pointed to a bunch of crates, solidly fixed with ropes hammered to the deck. "There would be perfect."

The gold elf nodded weakly, and they set foot, at an adequately slow pace. Torri was left behind, shaking her head. "There you go," she heard Knave say once he and Nirra were seated. "Feeling better?" – "Yes, a little," came an almost choked reply.

The moon elf shrugged, and turned her back on them, walking to the railing, to settle against it and watch the horizon, and the top of the sun rising from behind the island. Truly, it was a majestic sight, but one that blinded her, so soon enough her eyes looked downwards, and resigned with simply watching the waves struggle with each other continually... endlessly. Just like the many thoughts in her head.