Don't go to Sleep
by Iliana Maura
Note: You will notice that "Ragno Nelle Ombre" has changed to "Orbb wun lil Veldrin"-my spellcheck hates them equally, so it actually doesn't make too much of a difference to me. They both translate as "Spider in the Shadows"; one is Italian, the other Drow, respectively. Readers of the Dark Elf Trilogy will notice the double-thrust low and the cross-down.
Chapter Twelve : Melae
Jarlaxle stepped out of Mithral Hall's flickering dimness and into the true darkness of his office in Menzoberranzan. There was a moment of dizzy disorientation, but the mercenary, used to such travel, shook it off easily. Allowing his eyes to slip into the infrared spectrum, he found one of his lieutenants, Say'evett, seated in one of the chairs across from him.
Seating himself in his comfortable chair and propping his feet up on the desk, Jarlaxle made a quick survey of the wavy-haired drow across from him, trying to see exactly how urgent this news was. Say'evett, usually lighthearted and with a good sense of humor, wore a grim look that spelled out trouble.
"Well?" Jarlaxle prompted.
"We've been attacked," Say'evett said simply.
The mercenary rocked back in his chair, considering his lieutenant's words before he asked any more questions. Attacked!
Say'evett elaborated before Jarlaxle could say anything. "There have been attacks on two of our patrols. In the first, all of the patrol was killed. We though it might have been some sort of mistake, but we had barely begin an investigation when the other one happened. The patrol managed to escape, though they were sorely wounded and one died of his injuries. They were able to describe their attackers."
"Who were they?"
"We don't know," Say'evett replied, frustration and anger showing in his face. "We think they might be the same unidentified attackers that entered the House Nuvin compound last week."
Jarlaxle pulled off his hat and ran a hand over his bald head, considering the implications. Bregan D'aerthe had been in the pay of House Nuvin when it destroyed House Kor'tath. Might one of the survivors be seeking revenge? The mercenary wanted to scoff at the notion-no one thought of seeking revenge against Bregan D'aerthe-but it was a reasonable motive, and could not be dismissed.
"What do we know about them?" Jarlaxle asked.
"For a fact? Nothing," Say'evett told him. "But there are rumors about another mercenary band, Orbb wun lil Veldrin. The rumors say they are being paid to attack us."
"Eliek would like that," Jarlaxle mused aloud. He knew the leader of Veldrin; Eliek, had, in fact, attended the Academy with him. Eliek was a fiery, impatient drow, surprisingly large, who couldn't hold his liquor but drank heavily anyway. He was subtle enough to survive, but when Jarlaxle compared the rival mercenary to himself, he had to hold back laughter. Veldrin was much younger than Bregan D'aerthe, having begun only thirty years ago, but Eliek seemed to think that he and Jarlaxle were equal opponents. Yes, he would love a reason to attack his greatest rival.
"We found the remains of House Nuvin patrol, as well," Say'evett added. "Apparently they set some soldiers as bait, and Veldrin-if it is them-took it. Then a waiting patrol, led by the House Weapon Master, followed. Unfortunately, the attackers turned the surprise back on them."
"Were there any survivors?"
"One. The Weapon Master. We still have him if you wish to question him yourself."
"I might. But first I want you to begin an investigation into the Nuvin-Kor'tath conflict."
Say'evett looked puzzled. "But, sir-that was twenty years ago, and besides, Bregan D'aerthe was involved; we know what happened."
"I realize that," the mercenary replied patiently. "I wish to know if there were any possible survivors of House Kor'tath."
The other drow began to speak, but a look of realization crossed his face and he fell silent.
"As for the attacks," Jarlaxle continued, "I want an investigation into them, as well. We need to know if Veldrin is really behind this, and if it is, who's paying. No soldiers are to leave the compound unless under orders, and all other assignments are to be put on hold."
Say'evett nodded and left. Jarlaxle leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. He lover irony, chaos, and intrigue, but he would not stand to have his band in danger.
She watched as a Bregan D'aerthe soldier levitated down from the lip of the Clawrift and entered the mercenary compound-coming back after in from assignment, no doubt. She grinned. Although Jarlaxle's move presented less targets, it simply got the band out of the way while she destroyed House Nuvin.
Bregan D'aerthe would fall in good time-and when it did, it would be all the sweeter for waiting.
"They what?"
Ikavul Nuvin swallowed nervously. With the death of his younger brother, Matron Yraeth had called the wizard back from his place at the Academy. What little the wizard had forgotten of his matron's tones of speech were quickly remembered.
Like, for example, what it meant when she spoke softly.
"They refused, Matron."
"They refused." Her voice was flat, and very calm. "Just like that-they refused?"
"Not just that, Matron," the wizard hurried to explain. "They sent their apologies-"
"I do not care about their apologies," Yraeth hissed. "I care about the fact that you obviously did not present my offer properly."
Ikavul felt sweat trickling down his face. He knelt before Matron Yraeth's throne, dwarfed by the massive audience room. Looming above him on her throne, Yraeth was flanked by her daughters, though Ikavul, not daring to look up, could see nothing of her.
"Please, Matron," he begged. "I told them what you instructed me to. They told me Bregan D'aerthe simply was not accepting any offers at this time. It seems as though they are turning everyone away."
There was a rustle of cloth above him. Daring to look up, the wizard saw Yraeth sit back on her throne and cup her narrow chin in one slender palm. "Are they spread too thin?" she mused aloud. "Or has something else come up?"
She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts. "As it apparently was no your fault Bregan D'aerthe turned down my offer, you will not be punished. However," she continued, frowning at Ikavul's sigh of relief, "I will expect you to find someone else to aid us."
From beside the throne, Ikavul's oldest sister spoke up. "If I may add a suggestion," she said, "Orbb wun lil Veldrin is reputed to be a find mercenary band-certainly not as good as Bregan D'aerthe, but not as expensive, either."
"You might choose to look there," Yraeth finished, ever demanding the last word. "You are dismissed."
Coss'tul slunk through the "shadows" of Menzoberranzan, out on another patrol. With him were two soldiers, Orvess and Laquar. It was a large group, compared to what Coss'tul was used to-just Say'evett and himself. He disliked the size and felt strangely lonely without Say'evett.
This was no general patrol, but focused. The plan was simple, which was just the way Coss'tul liked it: they were to find the enemy. Not their base, not a large number of soldiers, but simply find and capture one of their enemies. Information gathered from the House Nuvin Weapon Master indicated the Veldrin soldiers used a spell that would destroy any member who tried to talk, but Jarlaxle, ever confident, was undeterred.
But Coss'tul did not need to worry about any of that. He simply needed a capture.
After only half an hour of aimless wandering-meant to seem purposeful-Coss'tul felt something following him. He glanced at the two with him, who nodded to show they felt it too. The lieutenant quickly began to search for a place to attack.
They were in Eastmyr, the section of the city that held non-drow and less fortunate dark elves. Unlike the classier districts, there was more crowding, more filth, and more places to hide. Coss'tul caught sight of an abandoned building and led his patrol towards it.
The building had once been an inn of some sorts, and was a lavish three stories high. Dust coated the interior, darkening the heat signatures-and therefore shapes-of objects, making it difficult to see. There were some small signs of habitation, which Coss'tul put down to escaped slaves, or something similar-likely goblins; he was not worried they would attack him. In some places holes had been broken through the exterior walls.
Thinking quickly, the drow split up his patrol, assigning Laquar to the second floor and Orvess to the third. He took the first for himself, quickly scouting the area and finding it deserted. By the time the others returned, having found their regions similarly devoid of life, Coss'tul could feel that the enemy was close. Using the handcode to give directions, he concealed himself behind what had once been a desk-cum-counter, and ordered the others to act similarly.
Absolute silence pressed on Coss'tul's ears. The dust tickled his nose and he held back a sneeze, trying to keep his breathing soft so he could hear the Veldrin soldiers coming. He wished he had the sleep-fighting potion with him now; he would need it. The minutes dragged on; where were they?
There. A tiny sound. So small, yet so revealing. It came from one of the gaping holes; someone was trying to come in.
Pulling the tiny crossbow from his belt and readying it, Coss'tul listened again for the noise, his muscles tight. He would have one chance, one shot. If he missed, he would not have time to shoot again before this drow's companions fired on him.
One shot.
Springing his muscles, Coss'tul leapt from behind the counter and fired. There was a tiny click from his crossbow, and the sleep-poisoned dart sped across the room. He had no time to see if it hit before he ducked back down. Not even a second later, there were answering clicks from the opposing soldiers. Coss'tul counted-four. There was a thud as the soldier he had fired at dropped to the ground, asleep. Five total, then.
There were two more clicks as Coss'tul's companions also fired. One missed; he heard it strike something wooden. The other must have hit, because there was a quiet oath, and then the sound of someone sliding down a wall. Three left. Even odds.
A sound caught Coss'tul's attention, directly on the other side of the counter. He snapped out his sword and dagger and skittered to the side just as a drow rolled over the top of the counter and landed beside him.
It was one of the strangest battles Coss'tul had ever fought. Both stayed in a crouch, because to stand would be to expose one to the enemy's archers. The patrol leader quickly found both his legs and back aching. He didn't know about the other drow, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. He would have to do something drastic.
The sound of battle came from his left, where Coss'tul knew Laquar was. It sounded fast and desperate, and from the number of parries, it seemed as though there were two ganged up on one. There was silence from where Orvess was supposed to be.
Taking a risk he knew could cost him his life, Coss'tul began working his way around his opponent. The other drow, even though he had no idea what Coss'tul was attempting to do, tried his best to stop him anyway. Panting, Coss'tul finally reached the right position. He began working his opponent's blades high, then suddenly snapped his down and drove them, barely and inch apart, at the other drow's belly. His opponent snapped his blades down in the only parry, the cross-down. As he enemy's blades were occupied, Coss'tul turned his shoulder and slammed bodily into the other drow, knocking them both from behind the counter and into the open.
Quickly separating himself from the winded drow, Cos'tul leapt to his feet. If the two-on-one battle to his left was both Laquar and Orvess on one enemy, he was doomed, because unless the third Veldrin soldier was already dead, he would have his crossbow trained on Coss'tul.
There was a click. Cos'tul dodged instantly to the side, but the dart was aimed at his former opponent, who was just rising to his feet. The other drow stared in horror at the quarrel in his wrist, then slumped, unconscious.
Pausing only a moment to catch his breath, Coss'tul rushed to aid his companion. Orvess, his forearm bleeding heavily, battled the two remaining drow. Laquar, putting away his crossbow, appeared beside Coss'tul, and together they finished the fight.
"There are two two still alive," Orvess panted, referring to the two put to sleep at the beginning of the battle.
"Three," Laquar corrected, counting the one he had just shot. "And we need only one."
"Pick one and kill the others," Coss'tul ordered. "We'll bring his back with us for Jarlaxle."
"The bodies?" Orvess asked.
"Leave them," Coss'tul replied. "Veldrin won't care."