The Dark Flower, Book II - Chapter 6
Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 2:06 am
The Dark Flower, Book II - Chapter 6
In a small cluttered room lit by scores of flickering candles, three voices joined in chanting. The voices belonged to the enigmatic witches known in Skullport as the Three-Sisters. From their shop in Skullport’s heart they sold candles and other quasi-divine supplies to religious factions as diverse as the Eilistraee worshippers of the Promenade and the Lolth worshippers of the Tanor’thal refuge. The witches stood in a triangle as they chanted. Between them on the floor lay a gem and a decayed hand. As the chant progressed the three women began moving, arms rising, hips swaying and feet dancing.
Watching the three chanters were Sheyreza, Inthara, Gryndal and Azune. Azune had arrived in the Promenade just a few cycles after the siege, just in time to help burn the last of the fallen. Funeral pyres had raged throughout the Cavern of Song for days. Portals to the elemental plane of air allowed the smoke to escape, but the smell and the heat lingered on. The biggest problem faced by the survivors, however, was the number of the dead relative to the number of the living and the lack of sufficient combustible material for all the pyres that were needed. Given the logistical problems, the ceremonies went on for days.
Sheyreza had not been surprised to see Azune appear after the battle. The surface elf was an extraordinarily skilled swordswoman, but she lacked any true loyalty to Arizt’el so far as Sheyreza could see. Repeatedly Sheyreza has sought Azune’s aid in recovering Tel, but only once had Azune come to the Promenade to help and that only after almost a year had passed. Though lethargic in attending to her lover’s rescue, Azune wasted no time making sexual advances upon Sheyreza under the guise of ‘entertaining’ a plane-touched visitor to the Promenade. When Sheyreza mentioned this to Qilue and Iljrene, they too told of Azune making advances upon them. Sheyreza could not help but wonder what virtue Arizt’el saw in the surface elf.
Given her apparent lack of any real feeling, love or loyalty, it was no surprise that Azune would not appear in time to actually fight. What did surprise Sheyreza was Azune’s immediate attempt to assert her usefulness and importance. Sheyreza had barely set foot outside the dormitories when Azune approached her and began informing Sheyreza of all the steps she, Azune, had taken to clean up the battle. Azune’s tone made it clear she believed she was in charge and responsible for doing the dragon’s share of the work. Sheyreza had been incensed. After the battle Sheyreza had not rested for more than an entire cycle simply because she wished to see the plans for a safe and secure recovery laid out. It was Sheyreza who had laid out the first pyres and overseen the first ceremonies. She also ensured even the enemy dead were treated with respect.
Then Azune showed up as if no one had lifted a finger, speaking as if the battle was but an insignificant event of the past while the clean up of the dead was the real hardship. The surface elf’s self-centered gall made Sheyreza want to call the bebilith back from the pits of the abyss. Perhaps then Azune might be able to put events in perspective. Then again, perhaps not; the darthiir would simply try to take credit for saving the Promenade.
Once the fallen had been taken care of there was but one thing left undone and that was the resurrection of Arizt’el. Sheyreza could have gone to the three-sisters earlier with the gem and the severed, decayed hand Qilue had produced but Sheyreza wanted to give Qilue time. She had thought that if a few cycles passed Qilue would find the strength or the will to resurrect Arizt’el herself. Disappointingly, Qilue did not change her mind.
Sheyreza was getting used to being disappointed by Qilue. Without protest the sullen priestess led Inthara, Gryndal and Azune to the three-sister’s shop. The witches were now chanting to bring Arizt’el back to life. As they did the gem on the floor began to glow brightly from within. Light from the gem wrapped around the severed hand and then Sheyreza could see no more, her drow eyes blinded by the glare of the intense magic being invoked before her. The chanting reached a fevered pitch and the witches danced wildly. Sheyreza and the other drow turned from the brilliant, blinding spectacle and waited. As the chant hit its crescendo the shop was lit by a flash a bright as the noon-day sun above the frozen north in summer. When the glare faded and Sheyreza could see again, she saw a naked woman sitting on the floor, trembling. It was Arizt’el.
Azune rushed to Arizt’el’s side, tears in her eyes. She scooped up the naked half-drow and held her in her arms, cooing at her, protesting her love and her joy at seeing Arizt’el back amongst the living. Sheyreza wanted to vomit. Where was all this passion of Azune’s when Arizt’el was dead and her remains laying in the cold dark reaches of Selvetarm’s temple? Where was Azune’s ‘love’ while Arizt’el’s soul was lingering in the abyss?
Rolling her eyes, Sheyreza stepped forward and gave Arizt’el a simple welcome. Qilue had given Sheyreza a letter to give to Tel once she had been resurrected, so now she delivered it. She also reached around and pulled a sheathed bastard sword from her back. As Azune helped Arizt’el to her feet, Sheyreza held out the long, heavy weapon.
“It is not your blade, but it is a good blade. I took it from the body of the High Priestess of Selvetarm herself.” It was a small lie Sheyreza told. The sword had actually come from one of the Yathtallar’s body guards, but Sheyreza thought Tel might feel just a bit more revenged if she thought the blade had belonged to the woman who had cut her heart out. Arizt’el took the sword. Sheyreza explained she had little else to give her. None of Arizt’el’s belongings had been recovered. Though the Selvetarm followers had been defeated, they had not carried any of Tel’s treasures upon them.
The long walk back to the Promenade was a quiet one, punctuated by frequent stops when Azune and Tel would confer in whispers. The longer they walked the angrier Sheyreza grew. No doubt Azune was taking credit for Tel’s return, or at the very least, giving credit only to Qilue. Sheyreza found the longer Tel lingered behind to whisper with Azune the less Sheyreza cared. Let Arizt’el think what she will. Let her choose to thing Azune is the one who cared, who struggled, who fought and who nearly died trying to rescue her. If Arizt’el choose to make that mistake, it would be Arizt’el who paid for it. Hard times would come again and Sheyreza had no doubt that when they did Azune would find some excuse to keep herself out of danger. Then Arizt’el would see her error. Or maybe not. Perhaps the sacrifice of the Chosen and the year long struggle of Sheyreza to see Arizt’el would simply pass into obscurity and be forgotten, unlamented and un-avenged like so many lost travelers in the Underdark.
As soon as the party reached the Promenade, Azune and Arizt’el excused themselves and retired to Arizt’el’s house on the North side. Sheyreza watched them go, then reported to Qilue. Her duty was done.
***
Two cycles later Sheyreza came to Qilue after her prayers. She had not seen Arizt’el at all since the resurrection.
“How is she doing?” Sheyreza knew that many who had passed from life to death and back again were deeply traumatized mentally.
“Well enough to travel. She has left.”
Sheyreza frowned. “What do you mean?”
Concern passed over Qilue’s face. “She left with Kestal. She said she wanted to take her daughter some place safe. She, Kestal and Azune left a cycle ago.”
Rage flared in Sheyreza’s heart like an expanding fireball and consumed her. “What? What did you say? She left? Nearly fifty of the chosen die to bring her back from the abyss and as soon as she returns she leaves? We are weaker and more vulnerable than we have ever been. We have never needed her blades more and all because we struggled to return her to life and she leaves?”
Qilue tried to calm Sheyreza but a string of curses, some in the abyssal tongue of fiends, poured from Sheyreza’s lips. Anger flowed through her veins as it had not done since her time in Ched Nasad while worshipping the Spider Queen. Her fists clenched and one hand instinctively drew her sword. Qilue stepped back wide eyed, hands held before her. Betrayed. After all that we did, after all that we sacrificed, she abandons us and betrays us. Sword in hand Sheyreza stomped out of the temple, still hurling curses upon Arizt’el’s name.
Outside Sheyreza looked upon the statue of Eilistraee in a rage and then turned north towards Arizt’el’s house. She raised her sword and leveled it.
“Arizt’el Cys’Varillo,” Sheyreza growled, “before the Goddess I name thee darthiir, for the blood that flows in your treacherous ungrateful veins is as pale as your skin.”
Around Sheyreza the few Chosen standing guard outside the temple looked on wide-eyed, unsure of what to do or say. Was not Arizt’el the swordmaiden-hero so many of them had died to save?
Sheyreza ignored them and looked upon the statue once more, her red and blue eyes filled with anger and pain. A ten-day ago I stood before you and asked if Qilue could really be your Chosen. Now, I stand before you and ask if Arizt’el can really be your daughter. What are the virtues you seek, Lady Silverhair? By those to whom you grant the status of Chosen or the gift of second life, it seems you seek the weak, the indecisive, the foolhardy and the ungrateful. Are these truly qualities you want in your followers?
The stone statue of the Maiden did not answer.
In a small cluttered room lit by scores of flickering candles, three voices joined in chanting. The voices belonged to the enigmatic witches known in Skullport as the Three-Sisters. From their shop in Skullport’s heart they sold candles and other quasi-divine supplies to religious factions as diverse as the Eilistraee worshippers of the Promenade and the Lolth worshippers of the Tanor’thal refuge. The witches stood in a triangle as they chanted. Between them on the floor lay a gem and a decayed hand. As the chant progressed the three women began moving, arms rising, hips swaying and feet dancing.
Watching the three chanters were Sheyreza, Inthara, Gryndal and Azune. Azune had arrived in the Promenade just a few cycles after the siege, just in time to help burn the last of the fallen. Funeral pyres had raged throughout the Cavern of Song for days. Portals to the elemental plane of air allowed the smoke to escape, but the smell and the heat lingered on. The biggest problem faced by the survivors, however, was the number of the dead relative to the number of the living and the lack of sufficient combustible material for all the pyres that were needed. Given the logistical problems, the ceremonies went on for days.
Sheyreza had not been surprised to see Azune appear after the battle. The surface elf was an extraordinarily skilled swordswoman, but she lacked any true loyalty to Arizt’el so far as Sheyreza could see. Repeatedly Sheyreza has sought Azune’s aid in recovering Tel, but only once had Azune come to the Promenade to help and that only after almost a year had passed. Though lethargic in attending to her lover’s rescue, Azune wasted no time making sexual advances upon Sheyreza under the guise of ‘entertaining’ a plane-touched visitor to the Promenade. When Sheyreza mentioned this to Qilue and Iljrene, they too told of Azune making advances upon them. Sheyreza could not help but wonder what virtue Arizt’el saw in the surface elf.
Given her apparent lack of any real feeling, love or loyalty, it was no surprise that Azune would not appear in time to actually fight. What did surprise Sheyreza was Azune’s immediate attempt to assert her usefulness and importance. Sheyreza had barely set foot outside the dormitories when Azune approached her and began informing Sheyreza of all the steps she, Azune, had taken to clean up the battle. Azune’s tone made it clear she believed she was in charge and responsible for doing the dragon’s share of the work. Sheyreza had been incensed. After the battle Sheyreza had not rested for more than an entire cycle simply because she wished to see the plans for a safe and secure recovery laid out. It was Sheyreza who had laid out the first pyres and overseen the first ceremonies. She also ensured even the enemy dead were treated with respect.
Then Azune showed up as if no one had lifted a finger, speaking as if the battle was but an insignificant event of the past while the clean up of the dead was the real hardship. The surface elf’s self-centered gall made Sheyreza want to call the bebilith back from the pits of the abyss. Perhaps then Azune might be able to put events in perspective. Then again, perhaps not; the darthiir would simply try to take credit for saving the Promenade.
Once the fallen had been taken care of there was but one thing left undone and that was the resurrection of Arizt’el. Sheyreza could have gone to the three-sisters earlier with the gem and the severed, decayed hand Qilue had produced but Sheyreza wanted to give Qilue time. She had thought that if a few cycles passed Qilue would find the strength or the will to resurrect Arizt’el herself. Disappointingly, Qilue did not change her mind.
Sheyreza was getting used to being disappointed by Qilue. Without protest the sullen priestess led Inthara, Gryndal and Azune to the three-sister’s shop. The witches were now chanting to bring Arizt’el back to life. As they did the gem on the floor began to glow brightly from within. Light from the gem wrapped around the severed hand and then Sheyreza could see no more, her drow eyes blinded by the glare of the intense magic being invoked before her. The chanting reached a fevered pitch and the witches danced wildly. Sheyreza and the other drow turned from the brilliant, blinding spectacle and waited. As the chant hit its crescendo the shop was lit by a flash a bright as the noon-day sun above the frozen north in summer. When the glare faded and Sheyreza could see again, she saw a naked woman sitting on the floor, trembling. It was Arizt’el.
Azune rushed to Arizt’el’s side, tears in her eyes. She scooped up the naked half-drow and held her in her arms, cooing at her, protesting her love and her joy at seeing Arizt’el back amongst the living. Sheyreza wanted to vomit. Where was all this passion of Azune’s when Arizt’el was dead and her remains laying in the cold dark reaches of Selvetarm’s temple? Where was Azune’s ‘love’ while Arizt’el’s soul was lingering in the abyss?
Rolling her eyes, Sheyreza stepped forward and gave Arizt’el a simple welcome. Qilue had given Sheyreza a letter to give to Tel once she had been resurrected, so now she delivered it. She also reached around and pulled a sheathed bastard sword from her back. As Azune helped Arizt’el to her feet, Sheyreza held out the long, heavy weapon.
“It is not your blade, but it is a good blade. I took it from the body of the High Priestess of Selvetarm herself.” It was a small lie Sheyreza told. The sword had actually come from one of the Yathtallar’s body guards, but Sheyreza thought Tel might feel just a bit more revenged if she thought the blade had belonged to the woman who had cut her heart out. Arizt’el took the sword. Sheyreza explained she had little else to give her. None of Arizt’el’s belongings had been recovered. Though the Selvetarm followers had been defeated, they had not carried any of Tel’s treasures upon them.
The long walk back to the Promenade was a quiet one, punctuated by frequent stops when Azune and Tel would confer in whispers. The longer they walked the angrier Sheyreza grew. No doubt Azune was taking credit for Tel’s return, or at the very least, giving credit only to Qilue. Sheyreza found the longer Tel lingered behind to whisper with Azune the less Sheyreza cared. Let Arizt’el think what she will. Let her choose to thing Azune is the one who cared, who struggled, who fought and who nearly died trying to rescue her. If Arizt’el choose to make that mistake, it would be Arizt’el who paid for it. Hard times would come again and Sheyreza had no doubt that when they did Azune would find some excuse to keep herself out of danger. Then Arizt’el would see her error. Or maybe not. Perhaps the sacrifice of the Chosen and the year long struggle of Sheyreza to see Arizt’el would simply pass into obscurity and be forgotten, unlamented and un-avenged like so many lost travelers in the Underdark.
As soon as the party reached the Promenade, Azune and Arizt’el excused themselves and retired to Arizt’el’s house on the North side. Sheyreza watched them go, then reported to Qilue. Her duty was done.
***
Two cycles later Sheyreza came to Qilue after her prayers. She had not seen Arizt’el at all since the resurrection.
“How is she doing?” Sheyreza knew that many who had passed from life to death and back again were deeply traumatized mentally.
“Well enough to travel. She has left.”
Sheyreza frowned. “What do you mean?”
Concern passed over Qilue’s face. “She left with Kestal. She said she wanted to take her daughter some place safe. She, Kestal and Azune left a cycle ago.”
Rage flared in Sheyreza’s heart like an expanding fireball and consumed her. “What? What did you say? She left? Nearly fifty of the chosen die to bring her back from the abyss and as soon as she returns she leaves? We are weaker and more vulnerable than we have ever been. We have never needed her blades more and all because we struggled to return her to life and she leaves?”
Qilue tried to calm Sheyreza but a string of curses, some in the abyssal tongue of fiends, poured from Sheyreza’s lips. Anger flowed through her veins as it had not done since her time in Ched Nasad while worshipping the Spider Queen. Her fists clenched and one hand instinctively drew her sword. Qilue stepped back wide eyed, hands held before her. Betrayed. After all that we did, after all that we sacrificed, she abandons us and betrays us. Sword in hand Sheyreza stomped out of the temple, still hurling curses upon Arizt’el’s name.
Outside Sheyreza looked upon the statue of Eilistraee in a rage and then turned north towards Arizt’el’s house. She raised her sword and leveled it.
“Arizt’el Cys’Varillo,” Sheyreza growled, “before the Goddess I name thee darthiir, for the blood that flows in your treacherous ungrateful veins is as pale as your skin.”
Around Sheyreza the few Chosen standing guard outside the temple looked on wide-eyed, unsure of what to do or say. Was not Arizt’el the swordmaiden-hero so many of them had died to save?
Sheyreza ignored them and looked upon the statue once more, her red and blue eyes filled with anger and pain. A ten-day ago I stood before you and asked if Qilue could really be your Chosen. Now, I stand before you and ask if Arizt’el can really be your daughter. What are the virtues you seek, Lady Silverhair? By those to whom you grant the status of Chosen or the gift of second life, it seems you seek the weak, the indecisive, the foolhardy and the ungrateful. Are these truly qualities you want in your followers?
The stone statue of the Maiden did not answer.
I am not positive, but I do not think Sheyreza, despite living on the surface, really knows what a 'dog' is.. lol I think her only experience with them was while quickly passing through the streets of Waterdeep. Later in Lonelywood she became intimately familiar with wolves, but never encountered a dog and certainly never learned of their reputation for loyalty, so, sadly, while I, Mikayla, love your verse, it will likely only bewilder Sheyreza.