The Innocence of Youth

Chapter 1: The Innocence of Youth

"What's your name, kid?" the male asked.

"Amalagh," the child replied, refusing to meet his eyes.

"And I'm Zabal,"

"Zabal?"

Amalagh finally looked up, and immediately wished he hadn't. Zabal was a sickening excuse for a being that had spent over a hundred years wasting away in the disease-ridden dump they called home. His face was covered by numerous lesions from having contracted a sever case of leprosy. Even more scarring was present simply due to where they lived. The slums were a hostile place to live, especially for drow, who were reviled by the nobles and slaves alike. Zabal had seen more than his share of fights.

"How old are you?"

"Five years."

"Five?" Zabal repeated doubtfully. "You look at least ten to me and your speech makes you seem even older than that."

"I assure you that I know my own age."

"All right then, Amalagh."

Zabal leaned back against the clay wall of the ditch that he was sharing with the kid. These ditches were normally used to dump corpses, but many vagrants used them to hide, often concealing themselves under the dead to fool the roving gangs who searched them. The stench was often overwhelming and the bodies carried all manner of pests, but it beat joining them among the recently deceased.

Zabal was impressed by the child. Not many orphans had the brains or the balls to hide in these ditches, fearing either being discovered by the night gangs or killed by others for food. The male contemplated killing this child for a moment; he had never resorted to cannibalism before, but he had had orc meat several times when there was no other alternative.

But then a new idea sprang to his always self-serving mind.

"You look like a smart kid, Amalagh. Why don't you do something for me, and I'll give you some food."

The child studied the leper for a moment before nodding in assent.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Don't worry, Amalagh. This is the perfect plan. Besides, you've stolen before, haven't you?"

"Only from corpses."

"That's looting. The real thing is much more exhilarating. Just don't get caught."

Great advice, Amalagh thought to himself bitterly.

"You're a child, so they won't expect you to be the culprit. They're orcs, too. How much easier could it get?"

"All right, you've proved your point."

"Very good." Zabal stepped back from Amalagh while keeping his eyes on their orc target. The two elves crouched in a narrow alley between two large buildings in the main circle of the slums. Patrolling the plaza was a large orc with tremendous tusks and a long topknot. A crude but sharp falchion was fastened to his belt; Amalagh could only imagine what the orc could do to his flesh with that blade.

"Go, kid!" the leper said, shoving the child in the back.

Amalagh moved out into the crowd and weaved his way towards the orc with the falchion. On the other side of the belt was a large pouch that jingled with coin. The drow child snuck up behind the orc and cut the string holding the pouch with a small knife he had received from Zabal. Turning around, he slammed headfirst into the knees of another orc.

"Where do you think ye're goin' with that money, twerp?" it growled, reaching down to grab the child.

He never got his hand there, though, for Zabal came from his left and unleashed a fierce right hook that knocked the orc flat.

"Run, you fool! Don't just stand there!"

Amalagh dashed down the street and into the back alley, diving into the pit where he and the older male had agreed to meet after the theft. Moments after he had gotten there, Zabal crashed into the pit.

"By the Dark Mother, it's like a latrine in here!" he said, but Amalagh cupped his hand over the elder's mouth as three orc pursuers passed by without noticing them.

After Amalagh had removed his hand, Zabal wasted no time in congratulating him. "It wasn't quite what I'd hoped for, but it was still well done. We make a good pair, you and me. Come on, let's go get some food."

Amalagh was not impressed by Zabal's haunt, which was as dirty and foul as the drow himself. A low-ceilinged lean-to covered by bioluminescent Underdark plants and reeking of decay, only one tiny table furnished it. Resting on said table was a clay flask of booze which, Zabal boasted, was magically enchanted to never run out of alcohol.

After treating his guest to a meal of raw rat meat, Zabal started taking swigs from the flask. Amalagh did not ask to partake; even in this situation, the leper had clear authority due to his age and physical superiority. Even in his diseased state, he was still larger, stronger and more experienced.

"You know, kid," the older drow said, just getting to the stage of 'buzzed', "we should do this more often. What say we be partners?"

"Okay," Amalagh said, shaking Zabal's outstretched hand. "Partners."

Leaving his new partner to drink his sorrows away, Amalagh fell asleep.

--

Amalagh woke several hours later to the sound of Zabal stumbling around in the darkness of the lean-to. As his eyes readjusted to infravision, he picked himself up and moved over to where to other drow leaned against the wall. The flask hung loosely in his hand, and rum dribbled from his mouth.

"Zabal, what's wrong?" Amalagh dared to ask. For the first time in his life, his voice sounded genuinely concerned.

"Shuddup!" Zabal shouted, his words slurred with alcohol. He didn't even seem awake, for his eyes were closed, but he somehow seemed to register Amalagh's presence.

"Shut your mouth, Ibar!"

Ibar? Amalagh wondered, but his thought was cut short as Zabal kicked him in the stomach. The drow child doubled over in pain at the unexpected attack, and the older male kicked him again in the ribs.

"I know you're sick, Ibar," Zabal continued drunkenly. "I am, too! You can't keep scratching those sores, or else – Stop crying!"

He attacked again and again, occasionally putting in a good punch to accompany the flurry of kicks. His boots hit hard, and the brass knuckles on his right hand hurt even more.

Zabal's drunken rage soon subsided into a stupor, and he collapsed onto the floor of the room, leaving Amalagh bloodied and beaten. Not fully comprehending what had just occurred, the child curled up into the fetal position in a corner.

Why would he do that? he thought incredulously, his astonishment quickly giving in to rage. He wasn't sure why Zabal had hit him, but he wouldn't leave now. He needed the other drow, someone to look out for him until he could fend for himself.

"I'll get you back for that, Zabal," he promised almost silently. "Someday."