Chapter 3: Education

Chapter 4: House Godezynge

Baelothel and Phaere stalked through the halls of House Godezynge's private chambers. The older of the sisters was stroking her cheek, which still stung from the force of the matron mother's slap.

"So, sister," Baelothel began cautiously. Despite her recent shame, Phaere still bested the scarred priestess in both power and rank. He temper was also infamous in House Godezynge; many had been caught on the wrong end of her fury, and therefore her whip as well. "What is so special about that boy?"

"Did you not hear our mother, you imbecile?" Phaere snapped. "He is a Lolth-touched: one who possesses the Dark Mother's eternal blessing. His strength and speed are greater than even our own, and although he may not realize it now, magic comes more naturally to him and his ilk than any drow. Killing him would be an affront to Lolth and among the greatest of blasphemies."

"But he is only a male!"

"It is not our place to question the Mother of Lust. If you do, the matron will have your head."

Baelothel groaned inwardly. "What should we do?

Phaere shook her head in frustration at her sister's foolishness. "Right now, there are many things we can do. Remember, Mother stated that we cannot kill him, but she said nothing of hurting him."

Phaere stopped for a moment to let the latest statement sink in, and the wide permanent grin on Baelothel's face spread even wider.

"I like the way you think, sister."

………………

Amalagh braced himself for another crack of Baelothel's whip, and it came just as customarily as the last sixty-two had. The stinging pain on his back that accompanied the lash was nothing new to the male: for the ten years he had been a member of House Godezynge these torture sessions had become almost routine. The sister priestesses of House Godezynge – Phaere and Baelothel – despised him, but they were bound by the authority of their mother not to kill him.

So instead they got off on inflicting as much pain upon him as possible. Despite his supposed favor with Lolth, Amalagh was still only a mere male: subject to the whims and wraths of the dominant females. The only difference between the Lolth-touched and any other male was that he was not to be killed once they had had their fun with him.

Amalagh had to admit, he much preferred Baelothel's torture to her sister's. While Baelothel's fierce whippings had been painful at first, he had grown used to them and could endure even two hundred lashes without crying out. She was vicious, but unoriginal.

Phaere was a completely different matter. Unlike her younger sister, she varied her methods of torture greatly and Amalagh was sure he had yet to see them all even after all these years. Thumbscrews, racks, needles, molten lead and the infamous tentacle rods were only a few of the devices she had used to ravage his body month after month, year after year. Amalagh had quickly learned to always be wary around Phaere Godezynge.

After over a hundred lashes more, Baelothel's attacks ceased, and Amalagh heard her breathing heavily. Baelothel always seemed to tire before two hundred lashes. She would get caught up in the ecstasy of it and attack too quickly, draining her energy before the full two hundred lashes had been administered.

The priestess did not even bother to untie him, leaving the massive male tied to the wall of the room, her bedchamber no less. But Amalagh had grown used to this treatment. Deftly twisting his hands to grasp the chains binding him, Amalagh flexed his arms and pulled them loose, shattering his metal bonds with a loud snap.

Moving out of Baelothel's quarters, Amalagh staggered through the halls to his own room, trying his best to take his mind off the dozens of open wounds that marred his back. Once he had reached his private quarters, he removed his clothes and lowered himself into his massive bathtub. Filled with a mixture of fermented wine and ammonia, the bath did little for his hygiene but was effective in disinfecting his injuries. It had also toughened his skin over the years to make him more resistant to the Baelothel's ravaging lash. It was excruciatingly painful on his cuts, but he had no one else to dress his wounds and this was the only viable option.

Even though he was officially a member of House Godezynge, Amalagh had never been treated as such by any of them. The only reason he had been taken into the house in the first place was because he was a Lolth-touched; were it not for her favor he would surely be dead.

But because of this 'blessing,' he was shunned by all who he came across. Akgar – Godezynge's House mage – was a complete coward who refused to teach the young elf anything for fear of retaliation from Baelothel and Phaere. Amalagh had been forced to pore over all the books he could get from the library by himself, and avoid Akgar in the process so that undue blame was not placed on the mage. The mage was weak-willed, but he harbored no particular ill will towards Amalagh and therefore was harmless as long as he did not get involved.

Even without the mage's help, the aspiring warrior had managed to increase his knowledge of the nobility and drow lore many times over, to learn things that nobody on the streets even cared to know. He had also tapped into the innate drow magic normally only accessible to those with a House emblem. Now he could levitate even without the aid of a magical focus.

The weapons master Galun Godezynge had been considerably more helpful. While not supremely skilled by any stretch of the imagination, Galun was capable enough to teach the eager and sharp-minded Amalagh much about fighting. After ten years of training he was quite skilled in the two-sword style used by elite drow warriors, at least for someone of his age. While he sampled everything, he had known for a long time that he was naturally ambidextrous and was keen to use it to his advantage. He was also supremely quick and agile despite his two hundred pound body, and most grudgingly deemed him worthy of Melee-Magthere. The only problem was that most drow entered Melee-Magthere closer to the age of thirty, and Amalagh was still only twenty-five. Even with all that Galun had taught him, Amalagh had no further interest in being apprenticed by the other fighter. The master spent significantly more time with Azdal, the real son of Godezynge, and would not have bothered to teach the commoner anything useful.

The young drow sighed with aggravation. He had no love for this place, and he hoped that he would not have to wait five years for an opportunity to leave.

………………

Matron Godezynge knelt down in her sanctum before the transportation circle in the center of the room. This circle was magically linked to another in the leading House Noqundar, which ruled over V'elddrinnshar with an iron fist. The magic of the circle was activated at the expected time, and motes of light began to coalesce into a corporeal form. Within moments, Matron Mother Ardularra of First House Noqundar had materialized in the atrium of Godezynge's house, and the lower-ranking matron rose to meet her. It took all the composure she had to keep herself upright and speak clearly. The Tenth Matron was powerful, but Noqundar was in a class all her own.

"Matron," Godezynge said, trying to be careful with her words addressing the most powerful of any drow in the city. "I must protest this decision!"

"You will not," Matron Noqundar commanded.

"He is too young…"

"That is a petty excuse at best. We both know that this Amalagh of yours is as strong and smart as any thirty year-old drow. Five years won't make a difference."

Godezynge breathed deeply, resigning herself to the fact that she would not be able to hold onto Amalagh for much longer.

"Your son Khazad is going to Magthere, is he not?"

"He is."

"Are you at all frightened that he will be bested by Amalagh of Godezynge?"

Matron Noqundar grinned wickedly. "No, for effective immediately, that Lolth-touched will no longer be a member of House Godezynge."

"What did you say?"

"The matrons of the Council believe that Azdal will be sufficient for you. Amalagh will go to Magthere without the support of a House. Despite how infuriated I am sure you are, the decision has been made."

Without another word, V'elddrinnshar's leading matron mother vanished, leaving the leader of the Tenth House alone.

"If I cannot have him," she whispered to herself, "then I must ensure that no one can!"