Anerak grunted as the robed boy's shoulder hit her hard, the pain breaking through her thoughts. She sighed to herself, holding her arm where she had connected with the wall, a minor healing spell mending the scrapes and rising bruise. "Serves me right, day-dreaming again." She grimaced as she dusted off her sleeve, noticing the material was torn; she was getting pretty good at tailoring her own clothing. "I guess some things will never change," she spoke aloud to no one, a habit Anerak discovered she had and indifferently accepted when she realized that no one here cared what she thought.
She had just come from a private meeting with her keepers, the shadowknight and priestess who had brought her from Freeport, and the High Priestess and Priest Alexandrian and Zexus, respectively. After the years of her service to the Temple, it was decided that they would permit her to enroll as a novice, but only if she renounced this nonsense of being one of the Faithless, and started the path of Innoruuk.
After the three priests had left, Eresse having to attend to Alexandrian, Anerak was left with the shadowknight, Arkhon D'aronbarra, a corporal in the Dread Guard. Before they left the room, he had turned to her, "I am proud of you, lotha'uss. There were not many who thought you would make it this far. Be warned there are still some who considered you naut khaless khurzon, an og'elend," Not trustworthy. Traitor. She was not surprised, and her face reflected such. Arkhon put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a serious look, "Don't aggravate those people nor let them stop you. And I would suggest you accept the gift that Innoruuk has presented to you. Just remember, he will most likely punish you if you are false in your commitment to him. He is our Father and Prince. Xaut gotfrer!" The showing of caring towards Anerak embarrassed the death-reaver, and quickly left the room.
She had been winding her way between buildings and fountains back to her closet-sized room when she met up with the students of the Tower, her mind racing as she considered this change of heart. It had been a long road. She easily lost track of time in this sunless and ever-warm city, but her sel'dro tangi, birthing day, was coming up soon. If she counted correctly, her thirtieth one, to be precise, which would be the reason for the timing behind the invitation from the Temple. Anerak chewed her lip as she closed the door to her room. That meant she had been in Neriak for half of her life, attending classes and cleaning up after priests and their acolytes. She sat on her cot, drawing her knees to her chest, thinking back.
When she had first arrived, the enchanter and trolls had quickly made themselves scarce, their duty to bring home the idiot child complete. The shadowknight and priestess had then brought their charge before another Council, this one of the Neriak guild masters, where she was searched and tested and inspected. While quite young, a Hall would have claimed most Teir'dal children years ago. She was paraded before each hall; when they were through with Anerak, would pronounce, "Naut udosst," not ours, or "Naut uss d'udossan," not one of us. She tried not to think about it, but each time merely drilled into her head of how much of an outsider she was, a colnbluth. She was still learning this new language of the drow that was vaguely similar to the language of the Elves that Pegador had the foresight to teach her.
What seemed like hours later, the Temple of Hate had examined Anerak, finding her, in their words, barely proficient in the rudimentary arts, but perhaps she would be serviceable as a servant who could spend time around the m'thainen without causing too much trouble. During the examination, recognition had flashed in the eyes of the priest when he saw her tattoo, but had ignored her questioning looks, other than to call her a rivvil seriso, human lover. She had felt like screaming to them that if they didn't like her or believed that she belonged, then why don't they just let her go. She may not be welcome in Freeport, but Norrath is a big place.
It was no use. She was brought to the Temple of Innoruuk, where she was given two uniforms and a set of used and worn casual clothing. Her bed was a mat of dry reeds with a blanket set in the corner of the servants' quarter in the basement of the Temple. When not needed for assisting acolytes and priests or cleaning up after them, she was to attend various classes, including those for infant children to learn proper behavior and languages to fill in what she missed growing up outside of Neriak. Anerak hated those classes, with the sneers and knowing looks and the teasing back in the dorm. She still went though, doing her best to ignore all but what she needed to learn to survive in the city, working hard on mastering this culture.
Her favorite was the classes on Teir'dal history. Based on what she learned from the library in the Academy of Arcane Science, it still felt like she wasn't getting the whole story, but there was still much more to learn here. She discovered that the Teir'dal had actually had an Empire, created out of blood and hate, encompassing Faydwer and spanning the Ocean of Tears. It fell to ruin when the Pale Ones, the Koda'dal, had lost their home in the Eldarr forest to a great fire. The rebels who feared the great power of the Prince had sacked an outpost, stealing the ships they found there, and proceeded to invade Faydwer, explaining the deep-set animosity held towards their pale cousins.
The final blow had landed when the wild ones, now known as the Feir'dal, who had been avoiding the conflict, joined sides with the enemy and assassinated the last emperor Thex of the Undying Dynasty. Innoruuk had answered the prayers of his most faithful, saving his remaining children when he opened the ground, giving them a path that culled out the weak, until they were delivered to the Forest of Eternal Night, Nektulous. Now the city was tense as a coiled spring as we gather strength to rid Norrath of the blasphemers who would dare build a city in celebration of our Emperor's death.
Anerak found it fascinating that there were two schools of thoughts on the origin of the people; the first being that Innoruuk, not wanting to be left out of the populating of Norrath and wanting to keep the other gods in line had created the Teir'dal within the Underfoot. That was the more popular opinion within the Houses and royalty. The second school of thought being that Innoruuk was displeased with where the empire of elves was headed, so gave his divine touch to the two rulers, before returning them, where they shared their experience and all elves shared in the faith, until the rebels came and ruined everything.
All of it was quite enlightening, as it explained the focused homicidal feelings towards the other elves. Her teachers had few answers when she questioned them about their people's place in the Combine Empire, but they were happy to tell her about the snake-men, the Shissar, who used to have a temple nearby. The Shissar had abandoned the temple when the gods punished them for some unknown offence. The king's witch, Najena, now resided in the temple, gleaning information from the old tomes and practicing her dark arts. It was from there that the dark elves had learned of mana, the mysterious power within and around themselves that allowed those who could access it to manipulate the environment, the elements, even the living and undead.
Her life continued the monotonous pattern of cleaning and learning for years. She was never fully accepted, and so kept to herself, other than the occasional getting fistfight. The last time she got into a fight was with a student outside the Lodge of the Dead, she broke his nose, the sickening crunch oddly pleasing after he had tossed her latest homework to the guardian ghouls. She had spent hours on the assignment as her masters were more strict with Anerak than her peers, and when she saw it gone in a cloud of shredded parchment, something inside her clenched, and next thing she knew, the boy was on his back screaming while blood poured from between his fingers as he clutched his face. She had been given a flogging worth remembering, even now, the memories of such caused her to wince. It was enough to curb her violent tendencies...or at least save them for the arena.
After a few months, when the Keeper of the Servants in the Temple had deemed Anerak presentable and she had proven that she had a minor grasp on the language, Arkhon was summoned to once again escort Anerak to a private mansion beyond the Third Gate, the architecture of the bridges and buildings more ornate than in the rest of the city. Once inside, she was taken to a private theatre that vaguely looked like a slavery showing room. She was left on the stage uncomfortably alone, Arkhon standing at attention to one side, when a group of older Teir'dal had walked in. The couple were dressed in nobles' finery with cascades of lace and had faces of smooth stone. The other two were both male in matching uniforms, the dark armor glinting menacingly, looking as though they had been born with the swords at their sides.
Anerak was not permitted to speak or move, unless told otherwise. All questions were directed at her keeper. The two men had looked at her briefly, the older one's face hardening while the younger looked curious. The former had broke the silence first, "Can she use mana?" At the affirmative, he had made a gesture to ward off evil, and then beckoned for the other soldier to follow him. They had wordlessly left the chamber, the younger one glancing over his shoulder towards her before the door closed behind them.
The rich couple had looked at Anerak like she was something a dog would chew on. "Which Hall picked her?" Arkhon had cleared his throat, "The Temple. They believe she is too far behind her peers to be of any use, but she was part of the healers' hall in Freeport, so can do rudimentary healing and such, and has proven willing to work hard. They have her cleaning when she is not learning." The noblewoman looked as though she would faint and started to fan her face, "What of the wedding dress? Red velvet, with silver thread and lace...it was taken without permission." The shadowknight had bowed slightly, "I'm afraid it was ruined beyond repair, Arwen en amin."
"Gi'ussta!" She had collapsed against her husband, who had made a face in the direction of the vaulted ceiling and patted his wife's arm. "The wedding was without blessing from us or the Regency, who did not find it overly important when we petitioned. That being said, we will not recognize the tsak uss." Tainted one. Anerak had cringed at those words; they would follow her to this day. "However, to clear us of any debt and because we loved our daughter before she was stolen by that...faernau malar'whol plak'la...we will send an offering and donation to the Temple, they can deem where it is used. Doer, 'ranndi."
Not understanding at what had happened or who those people were, Anerak had looked to Arkhon after the older couple had left. He had had an unusual look on his face and refused to meet her eye. When he had spoken, his voice was like the granite walls of the city, "Those were your mother's parents. The other two were your father's father and brother. Do not seek them out. Do not look at them from afar. They do not want you. They do not need a colnbluth to remind them of their dead, disobedient children. You will be permitted to keep the cloak as it is ruined with the embroidery that your mother added but you will not take the name of your parents. Ever. Doer." Come.
She did not press the matter and they had never spoken of it again, save once a year later. By then, an enormous shadow wolf had been captured and a sacrifice had been made, and the donation the older couple sent to the Temple had been allotted out, a portion set aside for the care of Anerak, moving her to the small room she now occupied, with a few of her own personal effects like a hair brush and a hand mirror, her cloak and the remnants of what must have been her mother's wedding dress. She had settled into a routine, keeping to herself and refraining from fighting with students or fellow servants even in the arena, listening to teachers and masters, and avoiding the family she didn't know that had disowned her.
Arkhon had brought her some sweets from Dran 'Slug' Rembor, a human who imported goods into the Foreign Quarter when he met with her at Cuisine Excelsior for an evening meal and a drink. The meeting was a tradition of sorts when he was not busy with his duties or was not entertaining the daughter of a noble, but the gift was something different.
It was then that Arkhon had shared with her the given names of her parents, Aranel and Felanni, but holding back their family names. He also told her that no one knew what had happened to them after they had left with Ambassador D'vinn, or why she had ended up in the clutches of the humans as a babe, even though the Regency had put forth an inquiry. He had never believed the story Pegador had told her, rather that elves must have slaughtered the delegation, and kept her for some disgusting reason, such as selling her to the humans. He also did not know what the crest on the cloak or her matching tattoo meant, there being none like it anywhere within the City.
Absentmindedly, Anerak dropped her hand to the side of her lower abdomen, covering the tattoo, her other hand fingering a piece of the ruined dress. It was surprising that the Temple would actually accept her as a novice, especially when she apathetically considered herself part of the Faithless, a group that did not rely on the gods but rather themselves alone. Since the fall of the Combine Empire, with the mingling of so many races and religions, followers of dark and light, this wasn't an unheard of practice in Neriak, but was highly frowned upon and unaccepted by the Temple.
Anerak also knew that she would not be able to expand her powers and help others until she learned to call upon a god and focus her faith. After a decade and a half of learning the doctrine and being surrounded by the Children of Hate, she was beginning to find it difficult to remember what was so wrong about following the path of Hate. It was a pure way of thinking at least. No grey areas.
Beginning her preparations for the nights' slumber, she decided to give the Prince of Hate a chance if he would have her. If he could give her a night free of nightmares, possibly make it easier to forget Pegador, she would see it as a sign she belonged in the Temple. And perhaps she would ask Eresse to help her with a scourging as well.
Her mind made up, Anerak crawled under the blankets, and lay on her back. Hair fanned over the pillow, fingers loosely curled around the scrap of velvet, she closed her eyes. For the first time in fifteen years, whether by finding a place to belong to or by the touch of a god, she slept soundly through the night.