Qilu'e I'llystraelynn - A story of Darkness and Light

[ViperMYSN]

"Oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
in deepest consequence." | Shakespeare, Macbeth

Prologue

The heavens split in twine as thunder shrieked in the night sky. The gloom of the heavens foreshadowed the coming of a malevolent storm under the cover of a moonless night.

Inside a ruined keep, perched high on a tall mountain, a crimson-robed man stared at a land besieged by the upcoming maelstrom. Winds turned gale and rampaged through the empty streets of the city that surrounded the keep, with glass shattering blows. Most of the buildings were heavily damaged by frequent strikes of lightning that tore through the masonry.

The old man’s eyes watched bleakly at the raging tempest from a safe place above the storm-wraught streets. His study was located on the twentieth floor of a tall, dark-walled tower and offered a nearly complete view of the city below. Through a triangle-shaped window, half the size of a human being, the old man gazed at the sky above with eyes that reflected a lightless void. The only light came from the frequent lightning strikes that seem to tear through the lightless void as if they appeared from nowhere above.

A terrified shriek turned the old man's gaze at a nearby street below. Darkness gave way to orbs of firelight wherever a house burned by the flaming meteors. The choiceless few that remained in the streets seemed like scurried ants, each dashed chaotically for its life through a slippery maze of blinding flashes, blows of ear-deafening thunder and head-smashing masonry that fell without warning. Occasionally, even a loosely held door became the deathtrap of the unfortunate few that ran through its crushingly flinging path.

Though the streets were a living nightmare, those who stayed in their homes found little comfort as well. Windows burst with such a force that sent shards of glass soaring like knives at whoever stood close. The old man’s mind was filled with thoughts of children clinging desperately to their parents, who themselves clung to what little they hoped would shelter them from the lurid chaos outside. Only a trickled tear from his watchful eyes attributed those whose caved-in houses became their tomb. Pain filled his heart and his sorrow welled for all the souls that delved a shelter underneath.

Heaving a sigh full of hopeless sorrow, the old man leaned against a tall staff he gripped tightly in one hand and placed his other on the sill of the triangle shaped window. Under a hood that covered most of his face he closed his eyes and inhaled the chilling air. The aroma felt moist in his mouth. The moisture filled his senses to a point that made his body quiver with a sensation that sent ripples from his heart to the ends of his fingers. With every heartbeat came another ripple as if his fingers drew the necessary energy to cast the spell from his very heart.

While the old man brought the spidery words of the spell to his mind, the air outside grew even colder and drops of wintry rain started to fall. With each drop the rain grew more intense, until the sky showered the streets with freezing cold water that enhanced the chaos around.

His hand on the window’s sill felt the stinging pain of freezing raindrops and he fought hard to maintain his concentration. In a small corner of his mind he knew his struggle was fought too hard for such a simple spell. By now, the old man’s wet hand was pale and numb by the chill that drenched to his bones. He was not able to retract it, cradle it under his robes, for fear his spell would fail. It took every bit of concentration left in his mind to maintain the concentration necessary to cast it.

Then he heard it. The sweet embracive hum, the seductive sound, the warm caress of a familiar voice that answered his call from the one thing he cared for the most – the one thing his other hand gripped almost crushingly. The old man turned his head with much effort and gazed admiringly at his staff.

With a shimmering light that challenged the lightning itself, the staff blinded the room as the warm energy flowed freely from its body to the old man's heart. Feeling the rush of adrenaline mixed with the new magical energy in his veins, the old man turned to look at the triangle-shaped window and spoke out words to a spell that now flowed easily from his mind. His voice was hollow and echoed both inside the chamber and in his mind. Immediately after, the sill of the triangle-shaped window glowed with a soft blue aura that shielded both the room and the tower from the raging tempest's wrath. Meanwhile, the mist grew thicker, until all that was visible from the window was dense fog that shimmered softly when lightning tore through the heavens above.

"We must seek them all, master." came a voice from behind the old man. The old man turned about slowly, still clinging desperately to his staff. Another crimson-robed acolyte stood before him.

"We shall, soon. The storm I have called forth shall reveal to us the location of our next subject." The acolyte nodded to the old man's words and turned to face a crystal orb that stood on a pedestal in the middle of the study.

"Khell Kuffim Saffim!" said the acolyte in similarly-spidery words and the orb started to flicker with translucent images of a far away land. "Yes! Master!" spoke the acolyte with a sense of thrilled satisfaction. "The Orb is finally working!"

The old man grinned mischievously from inside his hood, knowing full well that though the storm outside may have fueled the spell, it also sapped directly from the heart of its user. Little did the acolyte know, that he would not live to see their goal attained.

"You are doing fine, boy. Keep working the Weave about the orb. Focus on the subject's blood and you will find her." The acolyte nodded quickly to the old man's words, as he made an even greater effort to complete the spell.

The images in the orb flickered more erratically as suddenly a flash of light broke blindingly bright from the orb, accompanied with agonizing cries from the acolyte. The old man laughed sinisterly as he watched his prized student burned alive from within. Flames broke out of both his mouth and his eyes as the acolyte churned to nothingness, consumed in the magical fire. The old man shook his head with an evil grin and approached the orb that by now offered a clear image.

"Predictable youth." the old man smiles and spread the ashen remains of his acolyte aside with his leg. When he neared the orb, his sinister laughter broke into a loud booming laugh of satisfaction.

"Of course!" he said out loud. "How blind could we have been?" he smiled and stared at the new image. "They did a nice task of hiding her, this time." he grinned. "And she does is not even aware of it. This one will be so easy to gather. I think I will give that task to Aeronaard, even." The old man laughed out loud with a sinister intent and left the chamber.

As he closed the door, an image of a black-robed woman, clearing away from a freshly-collapsed cave, withered away in the orb.

[ViperMYSN]

Chapter 1

(Two years ago, deep within the Underdark)

Blood soaked rags collected at Qilu'e's feet. One by one she tended to the wincing drow's purple wounds, sitched, salved, bandaged, did what little she could do in the leaping bluish halo the cavern's fungi provided. Fortunately for her roadside patient, she could do more than most. Fingers slick with healing ointment, Qilu'e worked fervently to tie of a catgut cord and brushed the injury with a light touch that to the untrained eye seemed only a friendly pat. The wincing drow however, recognized the telltale gesture as a magical ward against infections.

Qilu'e gently brushed off the mud and dirt from his face with a piece of cloth. As the drow regained his bearings, his purple eyes gleamed with surprise and he pulled himself backwards. Qilu'e wore a tiny golden circlet that snakingly wove around her upper right arm with a symbol drawn on it that marked her as a slave.

Qilu'e was well aware of the reason the drow stared at her so. Slaves were not allowed to travel by themselves and if someone saw them together in a tunnel of this manner, they would probably assume he kidnapped her - a penalty rewarded most oftenly with death. As grateful for his life as the drow might have been, he preferred keeping it than showing gratitude to his healer.

The drow unsheathed a silvered scimitar and waved it protectively against her. Even as wounded as he appeared, the drow's mastery of the blade was lethally appearant.

"Go! Get away from me!" He shouted at her menacingly and motioned her with his sword to move away. Silent, as she always have been, Qilu'e moved back from him with slowed ease and huddled herself gently in a crouch against the side of the cavern, her arms hugged her knees lightly. The drow got up on his feet with wincing agility. While he moved back, Qilu'e noticed he favored one of his legs more than the other.

"Now stay there... and don't you follow me or I'll kill you myself..." he spoke and backed further away. A few minutes later he was gone. Qilu'e remained seated, her head lowered and waited patiently for the drow to leave. Though she was slightly pained by the lack of gratitude, she figured the fact that he allowed her to live was his way of showing such. The way her people regarded compassion was summarized best by one of her master's most favored sayings: "Mercy is the apologetic tool of the weak." And such it was, for in drow society nothing was more important than power and station.

Qilu'e shrugged and looked ahead when a glimmer of an object caught her eyes. A silvery dagger with a crooked blade lay drenched in blood where her ungrateful patient lay just moments prior. She approached the dagger on her knees and picked it up. The dagger was a beautiful mark of drow weapon-smithing, which crooked blade was smeared with a shining ointment that smelled familiarly like poison. A typical assassin's tool, Qilu'e mused to herself and buried the dagger deeply into several pieces of cloth. She then placed the wrapped parcel carefully inside her side-pack. Her patient's wounds were probably the result of some assassination attempt, another common theme to Underdark life.

She did her best to cover the blood with some nearby sand and dirt. She did not want anyone to know of the assassination attempt, mostly the part involving her healing of the wounded drow. Such an action would mostly likely be interpreted as condoned by her master and would affiliate him with one of the two feuding houses. Regardless of the mess and assassination attempts that would surely follow against him, his wrath upon her would be tremendous, as it probably would be if she was found late again. With as much swiftness as she could muster, Qilu'e ran back through the system of tunnels, back to a master that was already growing impatiant of her absence.

Qilu'e exited the tunnels into a large balcony that overlooked a huge cavern. She stopped for a second to catch her breath. During her temporary rest, her eyes fell upon the magnificence of Menzoberranzan below. The magical glow of the numerous castles and stone-built houses filled the huge cavern with a light only the drow found soothing. Among the various stalagmites and stalactites stood tall towers, some several hundreds of feet high, all a testament to drowish architecture - control everything and leave nothing as it was naturally. From the top balcony at the huge cavern's southern end, she was able to see numerous Drow and humanoid slaves walking about the dark streets. Several traveled on giant Lizard-back, used as a means of quick transportation. How ironic, Qilu'e thought to herself as her red eyes followed the different people, that so much chaos would exist in a city that venerates order and perfection.

Qilu'e sighed as she continued to stare at the workings of the city. She did not like the ways of her people nor did she cared much for their goddess, the Spider Queen Lolth.

Qilu'e looked around until her eyes focused on a large side-cavern on the western part of Menzoberranzan. A large stone-carved stairway twisted to a raised cavernous platform where the Tier Breche, the Sorcere and the much venerated Arach-Tinilith stood, places of worship to the Spider Goddess and academies for the study of the arcane. It was there that her master, Aarnafein Vrinn, met with Gromph Baenre, one of Menzoberranzan's most prominent Archmages.

Aarnafein was a middle-aged drow wizard of some 550 years. Though he never won any type of title or noble's station from any of the houses, he was both feared and respected, two terms that were synonymous amongst the drow, to which he was attributed to by his mastery in both the necromantic and devilry arcanas of magic. He lived far beyond Menzoberranzan in a guarded Doom (a small, uncharted village-like domain situated in remote caverns) not far from the city of Shallaas. His Doom, Caern-U'rvynn, was one of the oldest ones known to exist, predating Menzoberranzan itself. In there, he held one of the largest libraries of magical arts among the Underdark realms, as well as a lost Pool of Radiance, one of many who are rumored to exist in Faerun.

Mostly thanks to his arcane collections, Baenre and Aarnafein were good associates who met often, by means of teleportation circles. As Qilu'e was Aarnafein favorite servant, she traveled to Menzoberranzan frequently and knew most of the trails and back alleyways around the city.

Dodging alleyways and cavernous outcroppings, Qilu'e made her way down through a spiraling stone-way by the balcony and dashed as stealthily as she could through the busy streets, her mind set to reach her master's location as quickly as possible.

When she neared the stone-stairway that led to the cavernous platform, she noticed a very large gathering in front of the Sorcere, the magical academy of Menzoberranzan. Some of the gatherers she even recognized as prominent members of houses Teken'duis, Freth and even house DeVir. Even several Priestesses of Lolth were gathered here. She counted hundreds of people, all gathered in a semi circle around the entrance to the Magic Academy. Qilu'e did her best to remain in the shadows while she listened quietly to the commotion.

From what she was able to discern, a man was accused of unlawful meddling in some house's inner feud. She did not catch that person's name, but had a definite feeling of ease she was not involved. After all, unlawful meddling in house affairs was also punishable by death.

While still motionless, a hand suddenly grabbed her from above and pulled her on top of the cavernous platform. She was dragged by force and thrown in front of the semi-circled crowd next to the accused man. Qilu'e rose with a painful headache to meet her master's furious gaze by her side.

"Is this your pet, Aarnafein?" Baenre asked accusingly, all the while accompanied by a sinister snicker. Though the two were associates, Baenre's hunger for more power predominated his feelings of friendship and he ravished in this chance to overthrow Aarnafein and take over his library. Aarnafein was well aware of this, a notion that only fueled his anger of this personal insult. Becuase Aarnafein was an elderly veteran in such affairs he maintained a calm posture and nodded in reply with ease, much to Baenre's disdain.

"Sadly, this misguided urchin is indeed my own." he answered coldly, then looked at Qilu'e with his purple eyes gleaming, "and her punishment will be severe, I can assure you." Qilu'e's gaze dropped to the floor, her body shuddered in response.

"See that you do, old one." answered a female voice that stepped out from between the crowd to the sudden silence of all. This was Lolth's high priestess, a woman whose word was law and defiance was death. "Such mistreat of our customs is considered a personal insult to both master and houses involved." she spoke with a condensending tone of an old woman. Aernafein lowered his head in a polite bow, though inside he loathed the elderly woman. "Take her punishment off her flesh," she added, "or feed her to one of our Dark Lady's pets." she snickered and motioned towards one of the pens that housed some large Dire Spiders. Aernafein nodded and the crowd was quickly dispersed by a wave of the High-Priestess' hand.

Such were the ways of politics and powerstruggling, Qilu'e thought as she looked at the dispersing crowd and noticed the Drow she saved earlier. He gazed at her with an evil grin that foreshadowed his actions. He probably came to report the missing slave to the authorities to hide the shame of having been healed by one. Aernafein was kept alive because of his constant supply of unholy soldiers to the Menzoberranzean army, but to Baenre, this was public humiliation for his associate and a victory of respect in his own favor.

Aarnafein snapped his fingers and two of his drow guards approached him quickly and picked up the shuddering Qilu'e. They tied her hands and feet together and placed her on top of one of the transport lizards as Aernafein and his covey made their way out of Menzoberranzan and towards his Doom.

A teleportation spell brought them to a cavern not too far from his Doom. Aarnafein had many protective spells guarding his Doom from uninvited visitors, even from himself. This was the closest cavern that was in walking distance of his Doom.

During the arduous trail the lizards made through various tunnels and bridges over deep chasms, Qilu'e pondered on how severe her punishment would be. On his worst days, her master would lash at her a couple of times or make her starve for a day or two. In the end, he wanted to keep her alive and well fitted to do her usual chores.

But his anger of today's embarrasment toppled all of his former desires and he vowed to himself that she would well remember her impudence this day, at least for quite a while.

Qilu'e never forgot.

As Aarnafein promised, he took it out from her flesh with the use of a steel-spiked enforced whip for several hours until the entire hall was covered with her blood. Dragged broken both in body and soul, Qilu'e was placed in a tiny cavern that was her living cell, drenched in her own blood.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and prayed to what ever deity who might listen, to free her from this place. Her eyes closed and she tried her best to fall into which ever sleep her broken, bleeding body would allow.

[ViperMYSN]

"What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each loved one blotted from life's page,
To be alone on earth as I am now." | Lord Byron, from "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage"

Chapter 2

(The following morning)

Qil'ue woke to find herself lying in puddle of mud mixed with dried-up blood. Though she was used to such treatment by her master, the newly enforced whip was a definite upgrade in his cruelty. She lay on the cold stone floor motionless, unsure if she would ever be able to rise again. She suffered the agonizing pain for many hours while the throbbing ache of her wounds kept her from falling unconscious.

The touch of soft velvet shook her from her musings, followed by near-silent sounds of small paws pacing about. Qilu'e kept her gaze at the celing, while she tried to concentrate on the sound that, with every passing second, became more and more familiar. Qilu'e turned her head a little with a solemn expression and saw a small black cat sat down beside her.

Qilu'e made an effort to get up from the stain of dried blood she lay in. She pushed herself backwards against the wall of her small cavernous cell and sat, a bit huddled, her arms holding one another around her knees. Her master's familiar tilted its little head at her, while licking its paws effortlessly.

"Poor girl. What has he done this time?" the small cat asked, its voice mellow and somewhat playful. Qilu'e made an effort to answer.

"It was m...my f...fault... f..for trai...ling away...." she answered with a strained effort to vocalize each word.

"Please don't tell me you helped another drow... did you?" the cat asked, half-knowing of the answer. "He caught you doing such things before, yet never punished you... in this manner..." the cat retorted and studied her wounds carefully. It sighs and then, witha shrugging motion, returned to licking its paws and grooming its fur. Qilu'e's lips curled in a slight sardonic smile as her eyes foretold she agreed.

"Say no more...." the cat remarked and jumpd with remarkable agility to its feet. It dashed to a corner and brought back a small, dirty rag and offered it to her. "To help clean Qilu'e's wounds", it remarked again. With a satisfied smile, Qilu'e lay her head back and slowly slipped out of consciousness, silently praying for the pain to subside.

(Several hours later)

Qilu'e woke up several hours later and found herself alone in the cavern. She felt strength returning to her body and noticed that most of her wounds have healed. Her master's familiar had many traits, its greatest one being a compassionate, however mischevious, creature.

The small cat has been with Qilu'e's master for more than 15 decades. It was there when Qilu'e was born in captivity. It was there when her mother died at the hands of her master's wrath and it was there at every time Qilu'e needed a friend. Qilu'e was grateful for having the familiar around, for, without it, her spirit would have died numerous times in the past. With another strained sigh, she got up and walked out from her cell into the main library chamber of her master's keep.

The keep was the largest structure of the Doom of Caern-U'rvynn. Beside it, were several small stone-made houses that were used by the various servants and guards. The keep itself has stood here long before Aarnafein claimed it. Legend had it that some strange culture that predated the drow used this keep as their home. Her living cell, as well as the main library chamber were several floors down from the keep's entrance.

As tiny and dirty as her cell was, Qilu'e was grateful the chamber was adjacent to the library. One of her main chores she was tasked with, was to clean out and preserve each and every book this library entailed. Her master was especially concearned about the welfare of his books and she had to tend to every page. The main library chamber alone held more than a thousand books, not to mention the hundreds of books that existed in the side chambers, each divided into a special category.

Qilu'e, read them all.

The first few books she read were history books of many regions in Faerun. Through these books her imagination wandered into many placed, visited numerous cultures, some that have been dead for ages. Other books dealt with the study of different languages. Others yet dealt with legends and stories while some, of her master's most cherished books, were books about magic, its many schools and aspects, rituals and spells.

At first, reading books was something she did her best to hide from her master. However, much to her suprise, Aarnafein actually appreciated her thirst for knowledge. While her mind wandered, her master was slowly gaining a powerful aid. Her knowledge became paramount when dealing with Svirfneblin, bargaining with the Duergar and even several top-side elves, of whom she would name top-Kin, that used to meet in special Upperdark caverns. The more she learned, the greater were her chores. As time passed, Qilu'e's reading speed progressed as well and she finished full volume books, hundreds of pages long in a matter of hours, reading while she worked.

It would be long decades later before Aarnafein would realize his mistake.

Dragging herself from wall to wall, Qilu'e moved slowly, stumbled here and there until she collapsed on a small wooden chair by one of the tables. Seconds later she heard the comforting pacing sound of her master's familiar behind her. Qilu'e managed a smiled.

"Ahh.... I see you feel better now." the familiar remarked and sat on the table beside her. Qilu'e nodded in reply.

"Indeed I do, Jagger. And I am glad to see you."

"You should rest some more, or your wounds will open again." Jagger said and studied her body once again, to check the status of her wounds. Satisfied that they were healing properly, Jagger lowered to lie on the table, its front paws crossed.

"Listen, Qilu'e. You have some more time before he comes down here." said Jagger with a sudden solemn tone. He stared at her with a brooding expression. "He is downstairs next to the Pool of Radiance. I believe he is conjuring another fiend of shadow to sell to those Menzoberranzan sorcere folk." Qilu'e simply listened in silence to Jagger's words. The act of opening a Pool of Radiance to the realm of the Abyss took time and careful control, lest more beasts than those you intended came out. Her master used to spend hours and hours on end, just to conjure up a single fiend.

"I suppose I shall start my chores soon..." Qilu'e replied with a desperate tone. Jagger's turned up a scowled expression.

"Why do you let him treat you so?" it asked. Qilu'e was tacken aback by the question. Slavery was all she knew in life and as far as she realized, she had no where else to go, even if she could escape.

"Where would you have me go? To another drow cairn? Or to wander alone in the Upperdark?" she asked. Jagger's scowl turned to an intrested expression. Qilu'e knew well what this expression entailed. Throughout their many years together, never did one of Jagger's "special" expressions ever turned out in her favor. Qilu'e simply raised a white eyebrow.

"Hmm... I would have you run further up... to the surface." Qilu'e jumped back and fell from her chair.

"The surface?" she asked loudly. Soon she realized her master might have heard her and she lowered her voice to a whisper. "The surface? Have you lost your little mind, Jagger? That place is blindingly bright. I could never survive there."

Jagger remained expressionless.

"You could..." Jagger continued, all the while taking a few glances at her to see how much of her attention he held. Satisfied that it held it completely, it continued, "... with my help...". Qilu'e looked at it confusingly.

"Jagger... even if we managed to escape Aarnafein scrying, managed to slip through undetected by the deadly ferocious beasts of the Upperdark and reach a possible cavern that leads to the surface, you know perfectly well that you could not leave your master's side. You would die."

"How do you know?" Jagger replied curiously.

"I have read about it in one of his tomes. You cannot-" Qilu'e continued when she was abruptly interrupted by a dismissing paw.

"No no... I meant how do you know only he can be my master?"

Qilu'e fell silent. For several moments she wondered to herself if such a thing as exchanging masters was even possible. In her mind she scanned the pages of numerous books which she had read before. Finally, she got up and paced slowly towards a side chamber and brought back a black, leather-bound book.

She placed the book on a small stony table and released its seal. For several seconds she skimmed through several pages, until her eyes fell upon her desired passage.

"Here it is. A familiar is eternally bound to its master." Qilu'e read out loud. She kept reading to Jagger about how a familiar was created, how a familiar was summoned and what happened to a master if a familiar died. At the end of the passage, her eyes fell upon a part of the page she did not remember existed. "A familiar," she continued out loud, "may only leave its master upon his master's death and only if another master, who too must reside in close proximity, willingly accepts the creature as her own, lest the familiar dies." Qilu'e pondered for several minutes on the two lines she just read out loud while a tiny satisfied grin rose on Jagger's face.

"Here is your answer, Qilu'e." Jagger said. "Kill Aarnafein." To those words, Qilu'e quickly shut the book and with as much force as she could muster, ran to the side chamber and placed it back in its place. She then returned quickly, cupped Jagger in her hands and looked at it sternly.

"Are you trying to get me killed, Jagger?" she asked with a stern whisper. Jagger seems very comfortable in Qilu'e grasp, coldly amused by her reaction. Annoyed, Qilu'e placed Jagger back on top of the the stony table and turned towards the stairway that lead upwards to the keep's main entrance. She usually started her daily chores there. Jagger, no longer amused, made a quick jump and stood definatly before her.

"Are you going to let him treat you like this all of your life?" asked Jagger with slight anger in her otherwise solemn expression. Qilu'e stopped without any knowledge about how to answer this.

"I cannot possibly use a sword or a knife against him, Jagger. I am neither strong nor quick enough. And besides," she continued with a desperate tone, "he would kill me with his spells before I even got close enough." Jagger shook its tiny little head in disappointment.

"How easily you give up. I guess you truly are worthless." it said and continued to hover over the table.

Something snapped inside Qilu'e's mind after hearing her friend's words. Her eyes flared brightly red. She had no problem listening to the numerous insults her master used to call her, but when it came from Jagger, it felt different. With a swift turn even she was not aware she was able to make, Qilu'e made a quick jump and lunged herself forward with anger. Jagger evaded her with little effort, while Qilu'e dropped to the floor after having slided on the table to get there,

"Much better." smiled Jagger and folded its paws with a satisfied smile on its face. "You see? When you really want to, you are able perform even that which you so desperately believe you cannot." Qilu'e listened to her friend's words as all feelings of anger dissipated from her heart. The red glint of her eyes reverted to normal as she rose up with half of a determined smile on her face. Nodding to her furry friend's words, Qilu'e answered:

-"What must I do?"