Dark Flower III, Ch. 7: The Pinnacle

[Mikayla]

Dark Flower III, Chapter 7

The Pinnacle.


Sheyreiza was tired but too excited to sleep yet. A hot bath sounded nice. She had not taken reverie in two cycles. Moreover, during those two cycles she had destroyed the vampire Trax, installed new leadership in Tuin’t Luthol, searched out the secrets of the former Ventashma, adopted a new male into the house, and elevated Faerylene from acolyte to Yathrin, a full fledged priestess. The fear of failure and the excitement of victory had sustained her until now, but with Faerylene’s ascension, the fatigue began to set in. Her body was sore, her eyes were weary, and but her mind was still racing. It felt painful just to exist. One cycle from now she would have to see to Faerylene’s celebration; until then, the newly elevated priestess would be in prayer thanking Lolth for her rise in station. Though reverie took only a small fraction of a cycle Sheyreiza was so worn out and stimulated at the same time, that one cycle did not feel like enough time to calm down, rest and recuperate.

As tired as she felt, she was still happy. The vampire was dead, Tuin’t Luthol was controlled, her new Ventashma was installed, Pharaun was adopted, Faerylene was elevated and all who knew of these events knew the role that Sheyreiza had played in them. Well, they knew what they needed to know. Pharaun, for instance, did not know exactly how critical he had been; Sheyreiza’s usual spies had turned out to be nearly useless as they plotted against Trax. Only Pharaun provided usable intelligence. Sheyreiza hated relying on the male to that extent. It galled her sense of superior station and it was dangerous relying on any one person so much. Sheyreiza had covered up her heavy reliance, however. Every time Pharaun had come to her with information she would feign already knowing most of it. Her intent was to keep Pharaun from realizing how vulnerable she would be to his treachery, but the ruse had another unintended effect. Pharaun, insecure about his status with Sheyreiza, was constantly trying to impress her. When she feigned already knowing information he had brought, he would tell her more in the hopes of relaying something she did not know. Time and time again he revealed far more information than he had intended to as Sheyreiza sat, nearly silent, regarding him aloofly from her throne-like chair.

In the noble’s lounge a servant bowed deeply at Sheyreiza’s approach. The high priestess was still wearing her armor, her left arm wrapped in her bebilith-fang-shield. The usual gore of battle was missing; what blood, bones and brain there had been from the vampire had turned to dust with the creature’s destruction. As always, Sheyreiza surveyed the lounge as she entered, ever wary for treachery, ever looking for things others would not want her to see. Davik, the sly one-armed male, was on the far divan with one of her sisters. There was nothing unusual about that. Most males who played the patron-role to advance met with very bad ends very soon, but Sheyreiza had little doubt Davik was probably more cunning than Xenia. A short drow female padded silently across the room and took a seat by the central fountain. Though barely grown past her weanling years, she wore the black and purple robes of a novice. Sheyreiza recognized her daughter Shein’n instantly. The young woman was only a few years from being old enough to attend the academy at Zhennu Orbb, where Sheyreiza was now a mistress. How fun that would be.

“What are you doing, child?” Sheyreiza asked.

Shein’n glanced up, frowned and bowed her head. “Hello…mother.” The word mother came out as curse and Sheyreiza could feel the hate coming from her daughter. “I am studying.” Odd, considering she was not yet a student, Sheyreiza thought; odd and unlikely. Matron Shyntlara was raising Shein’n for the most part and the majority of Shein’n’s time was spent serving the matron, usually in the lower crypts. Even vampires rested, however and they often rested more than drow; Shein’n was clearly enjoying a rare moment of spare time. Sheyreiza decided to ruin it.

“I wish spider-wine and mushrooms to be brought to me in my chambers.” Sheyreiza said imperiously, as if talking to a slave.

Shein’n scowled. “I will have a servant bring them to you, mother.”

“No.” Sheyreiza replied with a smile. “I want you to serve me personally.” Sheyreiza turned and began strutting off towards her chambers. “And I wish it done now. Spider-wine, the strong striped mushrooms, and some fresh cheese. I will let the servants along the way know you are to be granted access.” The path from the noble quarters to the royal quarters was blocked at several points by sealed doors and house rules; only royals, their servants and their guests were allowed into the royal quarters on pain of death. The servants who worked in the royal area lived there as well and were not allowed to leave. They lived in a small, but luxurious world all their own. The upper chambers where Sheyreiza and her siblings resided were spacious, beautiful, plush and decadent in ways only the drow mind could imagine. They were to the noble quarters as the noble quarters were to the barren common quarters and as the common quarters were to the slovenly hovels of the unaffiliated iblith.

Sheyreiza could not see Shein’n’s face as she walked away, but she could imagine it. She could picture the hate and resentment written across the young woman’s face in a scowl that any surface fairy would recognize as the perennial expression of a Lolthian priestess as depicted in the paintings of elf-kind. Sheyreiza wondered if Shein’n could imagine the smile on her own face, and thought that the bitter, angry child probably could, which only made Sheyreiza happier.

Up in her chambers, Sheyreiza removed her armor. Her long, lithe limbs ached from her exertions, despite all her healing and strengthening spells. Her bath was steaming, its hot water ever so inviting. The bath itself was huge, large enough for half a dozen people to have an orgy in, and from time to time, it served that exact purpose. For now, however, Sheyreiza would bathe alone. At the back of the bath was an artificial waterfall from which a hot stream of water flowed at all times, thanks to the magic of its makers. Ever-burning candles lined the bath’s rim and sweet smelling bath soap mingled in the air with scent of spicy incense. Sheyreiza, now naked, slipped into the bath and sank to her neck, letting the hot water warm her body. She picked up her morningstar, Lolth’s Blessing, and kept it with her in the bath. Then she used her house symbol to summon her undead servitor. The armed and armored monster appeared at the door and Sheyreiza told it to wait in a corner of the room, hidden in the shadows.

A few minutes later, Shein’n appeared, carrying an ornate solid silver tray upon which was a dusty brown bottle of aged spider-wine, a silver goblet etched with an intricate web design adorned with the house symbol of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, a matching silver cup of delicately sliced mushrooms, and small web-shaped silver platter of rothe cheese. Sheyreiza watched her daughter closely for any sign of treachery; this was a certainly the kind of moment a young, hate-filled girl like Shein’n might try to take advantage of if her impetuousness outweighed her caution. If she did, the young girl would be dead in a heartbeat, her body caught between Sheyreiza’s morningstar and the blade of the undead beast laying wait in the shadows. Shein’n was not so stupid, however. Glaring but trying to restrain her anger at this humiliation, she set the tray down and bowed her head. “I have to be going now, mother. The Matron wishes me to serve her.”

Sheyreiza thought was likely a lie. The matron was probably still resting, but to prove that Shein’n was lying, Sheyreiza would have to get out of her bath and that was not something Sheyreiza was willing to do; the bath was just too nice. This humiliation had been enough for the moment. It was time to enjoy the fruits of success. “You are dismissed then.” Sheyreiza said with feigned disdain. The girl turned without another word and stomped out of the chamber quickly. Sheyreiza bid her undead servitor to follow Shein’n and lock the doors to Sheyreiza’s chambers after her daughter left. Looking at the food and drink she wondered if Shein’n would be so bold as to poison it? Sheyreiza cast a minor prayer-spell and examined the wine, mushrooms and cheese. The mushrooms and cheese were devoid of poison but the wine glowed faintly to Sheyreiza’s now-enhanced sight. This was not unexpected; spider-wine always had some poison in it, that was what made drinking it such an experience. Sheyreiza studied the aura for a minute but could discern nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied that Shein’n had not attempted any treachery, she pinched some of the thin mushroom slices out of the bowl and put them on her tongue where they seemed to dissolve almost immediately. She followed the mushrooms with a long draught of the black spider-wine. Soon she felt the start of a heady buzz as the hallucinogenic mushrooms and poison wine began working on her. Together, she knew they would bring about a state of seemingly enlightened euphoria. Smiling, Sheyreiza sliced off a thick chunk of rothe cheese and bit into it; the cheese was young and soft, and wonderful on the tongue.

She backed up until she was in the waterfall. Streams of hot water ran over her, washing away two cycles worth of sweat, dirt and grime. She bent her head forward and the water fell upon the base of her neck, massaging her stress away and soothing her aches.

Even without wine and hallucinogens, Sheyreiza would have been euphoric. In the last few months she had returned home as a high priestess and as a princess of the fourth highest ranked house in the city; her enemies schemed against her, but her own schemes had come to fruition first and now her enemies were laying in the rubble of Deepgloom, serving as undead in the armies of Auvryndar, or suffering untold torments in the pits of the abyss at the hands of the souls they had tortured in their un-life; Pharaun, her spy, had been netted and brought into the fold; Vedo, her warrior, was proving again and again he was worthy of his status and more; and Faerylene, her acolyte, was now a Yathrin. The matron mother was pleased with Sheyreiza, and all in the house knew it was Sheyreiza, not any of her older siblings, that brought down Trax and the duergar. She had schemed, fought, bled and killed and she had prevailed, and not just against enemies here. Glancing up at the silver serving tray, Sheyreiza thought about Shein’n and a promise Sheyreiza had made long, long ago. Years earlier, when Jain’n had banished Sheyreiza from Lonelywood and denied Sheyreiza the opportunity to say good-bye to Shein’n, Sheyreiza had cursed him in a mockery of Eilistraee’s dogma; “return rudeness with vengeance” she had said, spitting blood in the snow to mark her oath. And now she had fulfilled that oath for Shein’n, the little girl who was Jain’n’s daughter and Corellon’s own hope for the Vyshaan, lived under the heel of Matron Shyntlara. The little half-elf, last of the sun-elves’ Aryvaandar line, was being groomed as a priestess of Lolth, her soul being kicked, battered and beaten at every turn with a never-ending series of humiliations like the one Sheyreiza had just inflicted. Such revenge was sweet indeed; Sheyreiza had pleaded with Jain’n and Corellon alike to leave her and the child alone, but they would not listen; now, Corellon and Jain’n would have to watch as Sheyreiza corrupted the spirit of the child and twisted into what Corellon and Jain’n hated most; a priestess of the Spider Queen, a mortal imitation of Lolth herself, replete with all the cruelty, capriciousness and hatred of that terrible goddess and devoid of any love, life or hope.

In the waterfall of her bath, Sheyreiza smiled wickedly and began to laugh. A tingling feeling started in her toes and fingers and her mind seemed to expand. Her hands slipped into the water and she began to touch herself. As she played, she thought not of men, or women or even of sex per se, but of the station she had achieved, of her victories, of her vengeance, of her success and ultimately of her power. Coming off of her recent triumph, she had, without doubt, climbed higher than she had ever climbed before and the thought of that sent waves of pleasure through her body. As her fingers drove deeper into her sex her thoughts of power and lust coalesced into a mental picture of demonic lovers which only further heightened her arousal. Breaths turned into moans, moans turned into soft cries and then, explosively, the cries became screams of orgasmic delight as she reached her peak.

An hour later she lay on her divan, her skin steaming from the bath, wrapped in the afterglow of her orgasm and the euphoria of her cocktail. All was right in the world. All was as it should be. It was, very nearly, as good as it could possibly be though in the back of her mind she knew her ambition would drive her to keep climbing. For the moment though, her lust for power, success, and vengeance was satiated and she slipped into reverie with a smile. The goddess favored her.

Though possessed of great divining powers, Sheyreiza could not foresee that this moment was not yet another step on her ladder upwards, this was her peak, at least in regards to her life as she knew it. Everything was about to change. When the next cycle came she would once again check her drink and food for poison with a small prayer-spell, but when next she prayed, Lolth would not answer her. Tomorrow’s prayer to detect poison would not be placed back into her mind by the goddess. Though she did not know it yet, Sheyreiza had already reached the pinnacle of her power and success as a Yathtallar in Ched Nasad and as a Princess in Qu’ellar Auvryndar; the only sign was her drug-laced orgasmic euphoria that would soon be lost to the grim reality she would awake too. And then the real struggle would start.

[Burt]

Wanker.

[Zakharra]

Wow. It's nice to see what Shey does in her times off. And her thoughts.

[Mikayla]

Zak:

It's nice to see what Shey does in her times off. And her thoughts.

"No one knows what it’s like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free"

- Pete Townsend, The Who, Behind Blue Eyes.

[Zakharra]

"No one knows what it’s like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free"

- Pete Townsend, The Who, Behind Blue Eyes.

Remember the golden eyes that shine
With love and hope
Love that's pure and total
For it shall set you free

Love for her Heart
Binds her to the Flower
A golden Butterfly
Who's love has set her free

And warms and shields her in the darkness
In the end of life
She will be with her beloved
Bound by love and she shall know
That one, the Butterfly
Still loves her Flower and her Heart

[Dorn]

It's not that easy being green;
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves.
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow or gold...
or something much more colorful like that.

It's not easy being green.
It seems you blend in with so many other ord'nary things.
And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're
not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water
or stars in the sky.

But green's the color of Spring.
And green can be cool and friendly-like.
And green can be big like an ocean, or important like a mountain,
or tall like a tree.

When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why?
Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine, it's beautiful!
And I think it's what I want to be.

- Kermit, 1971

nice story mik[/i]