Nuitae rode as fast as the horse could go, cursing her luck all the way. She had been able to bring none of her provisions. She felt lucky she had her dagger tucked in a hidden sheath she wore all the time and was able to grab her bow and arrows before escaping. That damn Trey. I can't believe he betrayed me like that! Letting me think I might could be safe for a night! Of course, Trey had never told her she would be safe, but Nuitae was used to betrayal. The only person she ever trusted was her mother- so to the young half-drow's mind, Trey had betrayed her, even if he never said a word to anyone. By mid-morning, Nuitae was so wrapped up in her fury, that did not realize how far and fast she had ridden. The mare was close to collapsing when Nuitae finally stopped.
The half-drow tied the mare to a tree while she went to the river to wash. Wincing as the sun appeared from behind the clouds, Nuitae shed her clothing and pulled her long, silver hair, into a bun. Then, without wasting time, she lowered herself into the slow-moving river. The cold water washed over her as she swam back and forth. Nuitae was quiet, and she lay backwards, floating in the water, staring up at the sky. She hated her black skin and her silver hair. Her eyes were red, like most drow, and with those red eyes came a similar sensitivity to bright light. Being raised on the surface from birth, she had grown and learned to adapt, but even still….
She could use faerie fire, and often amused herself by making small lights dance around her. Her mother loved to watch the lights and Nuitae would often oblige. Nuitae closed her eyes at the memories. She also learned how to make it pitch black around her- not even the elves' sight could penetrate it. The first time Nuitae did this, Saedre began crying and screaming. Nuitae immediately banished the globe of darkness, and Saedre pulled her into a hug. Nuitae never summoned darkness around her mother again. Saedre thought she had lost her daughter when that happened. To Nuitae, her innate powers were a curse. She could not use the magic of the moon elves, only of the drow. Perhaps the one power she was grateful for was her darkvision; although all elves had night vision and could see equally well in light or dark, Nuitae found she could lapse her sight into the infrared spectrum. She often used this at night, after Saedre went to bed. She kept a watch at night, for her mother's sake, and, though she would not admit it, to keep the village safe.
However, she never had to use it for any reason other than that. Nuitae never knew a drow raid. They stopped coming; the half-drow was told one happened in her second year of life, but she was too young to remember. After that, they never came again.
Mother… Nuitae thought as she opened her eyes and swam to shore. What happened to you? Did the person who took you… was it the same person who… Clenching her fist, Nuitae struck the riverbank. Where was he? The person you loved? He should have been there, with you! He should have been protecting you! Why was he not there, if he loved you? Was he ashamed of me? Of what happened? There were so many questions, so many answers, but Nuitae could not answer them all. She could only speculate. Nuitae did not know much- but she knew hatred. She hated drow. She hated the man her mother loved, because he was not there. She hated humans. She hated her black skin and her red eyes. She hated her silver hair…
" 'It's like moonlight, Nuitae,' " Saedre said as she combed it out. " 'It is so beautiful, like liquid silver!'
" 'I hate it,' " Nuitae said, looking away. Saedre looked at her sadly and placed the comb on the table.
" 'Don't say that, dearest. Your hair is beautiful,' " the moon elf gently guided Nuitae's gaze to the looking glass. " 'You are beautiful. You just have to see it. It is a different kind of beauty.' "
Nuitae glared at her reflection. She was beautiful; though she did not think so, or perhaps she thought so but not in a haughty way. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, but they were the wrong color. Her skin was smooth and soft, like perfect obsidian, her features angular and delicate, like her hands. She was beautiful, she was just too different to see it for herself.
" 'Don't you see it?' " Saedre asked, smiling, continuing to comb her daughter's silver hair.
Nuitae replied dully, " 'Yes. I see it.' "
Nuitae sighed and laid her head on the riverbank. Then, the mare started pawing at the ground a few feet away, and Nuitae was wrenched from her moment of peace. Pulling herself up onto the bank, Nuitae reached for her night clothes and pulled them on, walking slowly towards the horse. Whispering calmly to it in Elvish, Nuitae approached and began stroking the long nose. The horse calmed down immediately and even nudged the half-drow when she stopped. For the first time in a long time, Nuitae smiled.
Nuitae stayed near the river the rest of the day. The horse was the first company she'd had in several days. Good company, anyways. Once the sun began to set, she packed up her now much smaller pack, and headed south. By the time the sun had completely disappeared, and the moon was high, Nuitae forced herself to stop. If she had been alone, she would have continued, but the horse needed to rest. She could have easily let the horse go, but having another living being, no matter what kind, was comforting. When she stopped, she built a fire. She had nothing to change into; so she was still wearing leather breeches and her night tunic. It was lightweight, and though it was still warm, the end of fall was nearing.
That night, Nuitae foraged for nuts and berries. It was all she had for food now. Sighing, her stomach slightly less than empty, she put out the fire and tried to sleep. It took her a long while to finally fall asleep, and only after she scanned the woods and river around her for any signs of life. When she was certain only woodland creatures were near, she finally drifted off to sleep. But her dreams were troubled
High in a tree, several yards away, crouched a figure. Little could be seen, and that was how he liked it. He wore a black cloak- magicked into hiding its wearer from the infrared spectrum of the drow. He watched as the half-drow ate, her red eyes glowing in the partial darkness and the firelight shining on her hair. It really did look like moonlight. It was not the silver-white hair that was fairly common to moon elves, though many of these elves did have hair colored silver. But hers was different- it was like liquid silver itself. Trey narrowed his eyes as he watched Nuitae stand up and brush down the horse. Finally, she doused the fire, and her shining mane disappeared. Now, Trey pulled from his cloak a pair of spectacles. They, too, were magical. They allowed his human vision to slip into the infrared spectrum of the creatures of the Underdark. Now, not only was he invisible to this same spectrum of sight, he could see in it as well.
Sure that she was asleep, Trey quietly pulled out his favored weapon- a hand crossbow. Slipping in a poisoned bolt, he took aim at the sleeping Nuitae. He clenched his teeth and set his jaw. When he knew his aim would be true, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
But the mechanism locked itself; the bolt did not fire. Trey blinked and looked at it in surprise, but he could not help but feel relief. Then he was curious. His crossbow had never failed him before. Not since the first drow died by his hand had he ever missed a target. Yet somehow his crossbow did not fire. Trey smiled grimly. It knows its targets. It knows its target this time isn't drow. Seems to be her lucky day. Smiling more brightly now, Trey carefully unloaded the bolt, wiping it clean of the poison and placing it with the others. Then he went to inspect his weapon. When he tried the trigger again, it worked without a problem. Shaking his head, he placed the weapon in its holster.
"I guess I really am only good as a drow hunter," Trey said to himself. Below, Nuitae mumbled and turned. "And she certainly isn't a drow." Reaching beside him, Trey picked up a large sack. Nimbly, making about as much noise as an elf, Trey climbed down the tree and dropped to the soft grass. Stepping carefully towards the sleeping half-drow, he placed the sack nearby. Then, he turned on his heel and left the area. "Sleep well, Silver Hair," he said quietly.
The next morning, Nuitae woke up, her eyes stinging from the bright sun. When she adjusted, her gaze fell on the large sack nearby. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at it for a long time.
"It's not going to jump up and bite you," came a voice from above her. Nuitae jumped up, her hand going to her dagger as she squinted to see through the foliage. "I'm more worried about you jumping up and biting me!" Trey said, laughing heartily.
"What do you want?" Nuitae demanded as Trey jumped down to face her.
"That's the thanks I get? I brought you all your clothes, not that you had much, your food plus some wine and extra bread and cheese. If you'd like to count, all your arrows are there as well," he said, indicating the quiver. "Though," he said, taking Nuitae's short bow off his shoulder and inspecting it, "how you manage to hunt and kill with this thing is beyond me."
Nuitae narrowed her eyes and snatched her bow from Trey. "It's none of your business."
Trey crossed his arms, no longer smiling. "You really don't know how to say thank you, do you? Maybe you're more drow than I thought, or than you know," he said harshly. The words were like a blow to Nuitae- Trey could not have struck her a physical blow that hurt more. Then he shrugged. "That will make my job easier, at least," he added, pulling out his dagger and advancing towards her.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Nuitae asked, backing away. For some reason, she was actually afraid. Of this human! She had never been afraid before, except for the day she found her mother gone. It was the first, and last, time she had ever known fear. This man was not the same human she met the day before- the smiling, laughing, seemingly clumsy man. He was cold, distant. Any trace of elvish blood he had seemed to melt away. He was the famed drow hunter, and Nuitae could tell why he was so good at what he did for a living.
"What I was paid to do. Sorry, Nuitae'neth. But a contract is a contract." Suddenly Trey lunged, grabbing at Nuitae, who screamed and tried to run. He grabbed her arm and twisted it around. Though nimble and flexible, Nuitae was an elf- a drow elf at that; known to be much smaller than their surface cousins- and physically weaker than he was. In seconds she was on the ground, her eyes wide as she looked up at the emotionless hunter. The horse reared and screamed, kicking and trying to break free as she watched the scene unfold.
The men in the tavern were louder than usual tonight, at least, it seemed that way to the innkeeper. It was a warm night outside, and the drinks were flowing fast. One man stood up in a chair, waving a stick around like a sword. "We'll catch us some drow! We defend our own and stand together, not like a bunch of blasted dark elves!" There were cheers all around. Brock, the bartender and innkeeper, smiled as he cleaned some mugs and set them down behind the bar. But their laughter was cut short by the door swinging open so hard it hit the wall. Everyone stopped to look, several put hands to whatever sharp instrument they could find. Finally someone stood up and looked, then smiled.
"Well, if it isn't our famed drow hunter! Returned so soon? Either you're just as good as the rumors say, or that she-elf got you good!" There were a few laughs, but they were half-hearted. Trey walked in, his face stern and expressionless. His clothes were not torn, but there was a lot of blood. He walked over to the bar, where Brock started to pour him some ale. Without saying anything, Trey sat down, and slammed his hand on the table, palm down.
"I don't think you'll want or need more than this," he said dryly. When he moved his hand, there was a thick lock of silver hair, matted together with dried blood. On top of that; a long, slender, ebony finger.
It seemed to be more than enough for the men in the tavern. "One bag of gold," Brock said, putting the small bag down, "and a bag of silv-" Trey raised his hand and cut off the bartender.
"I'll take the horse as the rest of the payment. It's a pain walking everywhere, but I've never gotten around to buying a horse. I stole it back from the drow who stole it from you. I think that's fair enough," he said, snatching the bag of gold. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, standing up. He was in no mood for drinking or merriment tonight, and he had no wish to speak to any of the men in the tavern. Bowing, he nodded to the bartender, and retired to his room. Once there, he stripped his bloodstained clothes and threw them in the corner, crinkling his nose at the smell. After he pulled on his clean clothes he lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"I hope I did the right thing," he muttered to himself. In all the years he had hunted drow, he never regretted any action. He was capable of assessing the situation, and doing what was necessary. This time, however, he was unsure. Treian sighed and covered his eyes with his hand, trying to massage the headache from his forehead.