Dark Flower, Book III Ch. 19 Ascension

[Mikayla]

Dark Flower, Book III

Chapter 19: Ascension


Brilliant, enchanted flames of red, green and purple engulfed the towers of Qu’ellar Despana’s outer-wall. Corpses littered the strandway around the gate and the courtyard beyond. Outside, the forces of Auvryndar surrounded the castle, protected by portable mantlets or taking cover in nearby houses and shops.

Sheyreiza and her murder team advanced around the wall towards the gate and took cover behind a small stone building. From there, Sheyreiza surveyed the scene. The Auvryndar seemed to control the outer-defenses, but they were still acting warily. Perhaps the castle had not yet fallen. Nearer to the gate, a lithe drow woman seemed to be giving orders from behind a hastily erected siege wall of mantlets and barricades. Though bloody, dirty, and distant, Sheyreiza recognized the woman instantly; it was her older half-sister Xenia. Sheyreiza signed to her murder-team and a moment later they quickly crossed the open distance towards her sister.

Xenia saw them coming. “Good, there you are.” She said with some genuine relief.

“What word?” Sheyreiza asked.

“Shalen's sneak attack worked well.” Xenia reported quickly. “We have the exterior of the Despana compound well under control. Only their chapel and inner compound remain in their possession.”

Sheyreiza’s face betrayed both her surprise and her appreciation. “Praise be to Shalen.”

“Praise be to Shalen. Praise be to Lolth.” Faerylene echoed.

Xenia continued. “The matron has decided since you have the most to benefit you are to take your team and find and kill Matron Despana yourself.” She paused and gave Sheyreiza a twisted grin. “Though don't feel too honored sister. I think the command came too also remind Shalen she does not command all yet.”

With a nod Sheyreiza replied. “It shall be done.”

“Lolth be with you then sister.” Xenia answered with finality. Her part in this was clearly done, so far as she was concerned. And that did not bother Sheyreiza. Xenia had her uses, but war was not among them.

“Indeed.” Sheyreiza said to herself. She looked about at team assembled nearby; Faerylene, Barra, and a young, common female warrior. “Time for the murder team to earn its station.”

* * *

Auvryndar wizards forced open the main outer gate and Sheyreiza’s murder-team passed through. Beyond the gate they found the courtyard appeared to be under Auvryndar’s control, though none of the Auvryndar troops she saw were actually attacking anything. For the most part, they were lounging behind cover, drinking from their wine-skins, eating rations, tending their wounds or trying to sleep. Dodging from cover to cover, Sheyreiza made her way to where she saw the banners of her sister, Ghal’tera, Auvryndar’s weapon-mistress and general.

“How goes the attack?” Sheyreiza asked as she approached.

Ghal’tera frowned at the question. “It would have gone excellent had we been allowed to push forward until the Matron's order came.”

“And now?” Sheyreiza inquired.

“Now,” Ghal’tera replied in frustration, “Shalen is angered, you are risked and our troops do nothing but sit here.”

“Indeed.” Sheyreiza offered with some mock-sympathy. Ghal’tera might be right, but the weapon-mistress’s flagging confidence in the Auvryndar leadership was not helpful. Of course, Ghal'tera was ever the warrior; her morale could easily be restored by giving her a military task so Sheyreiza gave Ghal'tera one to think on. “Well, what are my options for entry? And what do you think I face inside?”

The weapon-mistress pointed across the courtyard towards a low, ominous looking building adorned with the symbols of Lolth. “The Matron has barricaded herself in the Chapel to the left, we believe she is alone.” Ghal’tera then pointed at the huge, squat, round tower that served as the Despana citadel. “The troops that have not switched to us still remain inside as well as the rest of the royal family.”

Sheyreiza glanced at the intimidating tower before her, with its many battlements and its adamantine portals and then back at the far less intimidating chapel. She was not at all disappointed to find the matron had been cut off and trapped alone outside the Despana keep. “Well, my orders are to find and slay the Matron. So that means the Chapel. Any way in other than the front gate?”

Ghal’tera shook her head. “No. And I doubt you will be able to enter the chapel. None of the wizards can open the door.” She looked back at the citadel. “Perhaps you can find a key or ward-stone on one of her family.”

“So into the main-tower.” Sheyreiza said with obvious trepidation.

Barra was not at all satisfied with Ghal’tera’s summation of the situation. “I cannot imagine such a structure being built without a hidden entrance, as well." The girl chimed in.

“We do not have the time to spend looking for an entrance.” Ghal'tera growled back. The weapons-mistress was clearly not pleased with her daughter’s insolent question.

Sheyreiza knew Barra was probably right about the existence of a secret entrance to the chapel. But Sheyreiza also knew that she needed Ghal’tera’s support more than she needed to acknowledge Barra’s intelligence. Accordingly, it was better for Sheyreiza to publicly side with Ghal’tera for now. “A hidden entrance is likely subject to the same warding spells as the front. Matrons are not notorious for leaving themselves vulnerable.” And with that, the debate over the secret entrance was closed. “So, this tower here, just the main doors here as well?”

“Yes." Ghal’tera replied, again with some frustration.

Her answer did not please Sheyreiza: Main-gate assaults were for slave-troops and suicide-warriors. “What about the roof? Anyway in up there?”

“Nau, we checked.” Ghal’tera answered.

I wonder. Sheyreiza thought. I wonder if you really did. I wonder if Matron Shyntlara is setting me up, forcing me to go through what is undoubtedly the most dangerous possible entrance. If I die here, then she gets the benefit of my services one last time, and does not have to split her house. It would be a trade; a pawn, me, for the Despana Matron, who certainly counts as at least a castle, if not a priestess in the great game. Any savva-player worthy of the name would be happy to make such a trade. Of course, what choices have I? I am not the player of this particular game, I am the pawn. The best I can do is roll the dice and pray for the Goddess’s favor. So be it.

“Through the front doors it is then.” Sheyreiza announced.

* * *

Ghal'tera made it clear that the rest of the Auvryndar army would lend no aid to Sheyreiza and her murder-team during their assault. If Sheyreiza wanted to be a matron-mother, she was going to have to earn it herself. The small team gathered around Sheyreiza at her summons. They were only four; four against the entire nobility of the Despana. Like goblin-spear bearers cornering a beast-of-prey for nobles on a hunt, the Auvryndar army had cornered the Despana nobility in their tower, but the kill would be left for Sheyreiza to accomplish. Sheyreiza wished she had Captain Vedo with her, but he was on the siege line far above at Castle Nasadra; she also wished Pharaun was here, but he was dead and at her own hands no less. She knew that idle wishes were unlikely to see her through this fight; only the favor of the Goddess could do that. And so it was time to pray. Softly, melodically, Sheyreiza began to chant.

Dark Weaver, who spins the strands our fate's web,
Guide us to the path that leads to victory and vengeance.

Dark Mother, who gave birth to our people and nurtured us,
Give strength to our arms that we may serve you.

Queen of Spiders, who rules all with her cunning and skill,
Lend us your venom that your enemies may know pain and death.

And for this, Great Queen, we give you our faith, our deeds, our lives and our souls.
Praise be to Lolth.

When the prayer was over, she looked to the others. “Prepare yourselves.”

* * *

The fight was brutal and merciless. Sheyreiza’s murder team was horribly outnumbered. The numbers, however, did not swing the tide of the battle; the tight confines of the citadel’s corridors limited the number of Despana that could attack. The first house-guards they encountered fell quickly to Sheyreiza’s morningstar. Knowing the fight would be difficult and that all rested on its success, Sheyreiza opted to lead from the front; she knew she was a far deadlier fighter than anyone else in her entourage, and that she could do more damage from the front with them supporting her than the other way around. Had she placed them in the fore, as was customary, she would have simply watched them die then found herself trying to take the tower alone. So, she led the way.

The Despana, however, were not stupid. They knew how to defend their own keep. They staged their real defense in one of their halls, so as to maximize the number of people they could bring to bear on Sheyreiza’s tiny team. Though clever and desperate, the Despana fell just the same. Faerylene fought like the fanatic she was; Barra like the professional she was; and the common girl, well, she fought like a commoner Sheyreiza supposed. She watched as the girl feigned an attack with her axe only to kick a house-guard in the groin. When the man buckled from the low-blow, she brought her blade down upon his head with unbridled glee. Surfacers might call it dirty-fighting, but all is fair in battle. As they fought through the halls Sheyreiza saw the commoner revel in the bloodshed. It was not everyday a commoner got to spill the blood of her betters. More importantly, the commoner did not shy from the Despana counter-attacks nor did she succumb to the frequent magics unleashed upon them by the Despana mages. The girl had promise, even if she was just a commoner.

The second line of defense was a great square hall dominated by a large fountain above which was the face of Lolth was sculpted into the marble. Passages and staircases entered and exited the hall from all sides. Two of the remaining Despana nobles, a male and a female, made their stand here. Fighting alongside them were a handful of warriors and wizards as well as an emissary from the Melarn. They fought hard, but Sheyreiza and her team fought harder, and when it was done, Sheyreiza and her three companions were alive while the Despana were dead. Sheyreiza inspected the dead Melarn while Barra went from body to body, retrieving cross-bow bolts and potions. Fresh Despana troops counter-attacked and the murder-team was forced to circle and defend. As more and more Despana entered the fray, the murder-team got separated. Now all was chaos as Sheyreiza lost sight of her companions. She did not give it a second thought; either they would prevail, or they would die. All Sheyreiza's energy was focussed on the fight: Step, feint, strike; Step, block, strike; Step, strike, step. Again and again Lolth’s Blessing caved in the helmets and heads of her adversaries, showering Sheyreiza in gore. She made no sound as she fought; she simply moved and killed. One by one the Despana fell. None broke, none pleaded for mercy, and none relented. All died.

When it was over, Sheyreiza was left gasping for breath. In the chambers and corridors around her she could see at least a dozen Despana bodies. In contrast, all of Sheyreiza's murder-team had survived. They were bloodied, but they had fought off the counter-attack.

Sheyreiza surveyed the hall. “Clear.” She called when she saw no more Despana. Barra resumed her searching, going from body to body cutting the throats of the wounded and retrieving potions and bolts.

A robed male appeared in one of the archways, leaning on a gnarled, black staff. Barra saw him first and cleared her throat noisily to signal his approach; the murder-team had been instructed to try and take the Despana Archmage alive, and while none had ever laid eyes upon the man, this fellow certainly seemed a likely candidate so Barra did not immediately attack.

“Vendui.” The man said.

Sheyreiza took in a breath and looked him over. “Hmm, and you would be the archmage I presume? Or one of his apprentices?”

“I was never one to take grand titles.” The man said, disguising insolence with humbleness.

“I like titles.” Sheyreiza smiled. It was a thinly-veiled reminder for the man to mind his station.

The common girl began bouncing on her feet and started to flank the man in the archway but Barra qucikly stopped her from attacking. “Amien, hold.” The girl scowled unhappily, but she backed off.

The man regarded Amien briefly, then looked to Barra who seemed to be the one holding the girl’s mental leash. “Yes. Don't come any closer. Or this will devolve into something ... violent.”

Sheyreiza ignored the interruption. “Are you the most experienced of this house's mages?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” The wizard replied, again with barely disguised insolence.

Sheyreiza sighed and flicked bits of bone, blood and brains from her face. “Yes.” She said with a small, but cheerless smile. “Yes it does.”

“So which Auvryndar are you?” He asked.

“Sheyreiza.” Normally she would not suffer a male in this position to ask her questions; but that particular question she would allow. She knew that over the last months she had developed a reputation in the city as one of Auvryndar’s premier scions; a faithful priestess, a killer, and a merciless agent of Lolth and Matron Shyntlara. In short, those who knew her name knew she was not to be trifled with.

The point seemed to be made. The man answered, almost contritely. “It was a mistake to cross your house, but the Matron does not listen well to males.” His tone changed back to a passive-defiance. “I wonder if the four of you do the same.”

“Depends entirely upon the male in question.” Sheyreiza answered bluntly, her eyes narrowing. To her flank, the common girl began bouncing on her feet again. Clearly this was how the girl got ready to enter a fight. She was a bit was a like a pet displacer-beast eagerly wagging its tale as it savored the possibility of a future kill. Though neither subtle nor sophisticated, the threat was clear. And at this moment, Sheyreiza thought the wizard could do with a little reminder of the peril he was in.

“An interesting answer.” The wizard replied, ignoring Amien for the moment. Sheyreiza recognized this dialogue for the opening it was. This man was willing to serve Auvryndar, if the conditions were right. That was fine in theory, but there would be a price. And given that this was the man who had once enslaved Inthara, Sheyreiza’s companion of so many years before, the price would be abnormally high. Still, given the opportunity to recruit a powerful wizard, Sheyreiza struggled to check her growing anger.

Biting back on her mounting rage, Sheyreiza stated the first cost defection. “I would like very much to enter your chapel and slay your Matron.”

“I can tell you things.” The man said with a smile. “For the right price.”

Why do males always negotiate like this? Sheyreiza wondered. Always this for that. When will they ever learn? There is more to life than coin or station or favors. There is Lolth. And compared to Lolth’s favor, all else is worthless. This knowledge made negotiations with males particularly easy, yet tedious for Sheyreiza. “And what is the price you have in mind?”

“My life.” He replied matter-of-factly. “Well no, not just that. My way of life.” He elaborated, motioning to the grand-hall about them.

“You wish to remain a noble wizard of high station?” Sheyreiza asked, even though the answer was obvious. Though it was a price the Auvryndar were certainly willing to pay, he did not have to know that this was a small price to them. He should at least think he was getting something more valuable, something they did not really want to give.

“Yes.” He replied, his enthusiasm, his hope showing through just a little.

“Naturally you realize that you will have to leave behind your name.” Sheyreiza explained coolly. “All the Matron's close relatives must perish this cycle.”

“What is a name?” He asked with an insouciant smile.

It is an identity, you worthless traitor, Sheyreiza thought to herself. Now that he was hooked, it was time to get more out of him. “I will want your help not only entering the chapel, but also in ensuring the rest of your royal kin are slain or captured.”

“You only have two to go.” He answered. “My dear sister and the matron.”

That was unexpected good news. “And where is your sister now?”

He did not attempt to hide his contempt as he answered this question. “Most likely on her mother's throne.”

Wizards were valuable, but high-priestesses were the real strength of any noble house that truly wished to rule. High-priestesses brought the favor of Lolth, and the favor of Lolth brought victory. Recruiting this wizard would be valuable of course, but recruiting his sister, a high-priestess of Lolth near to the Matron in experience and power would be much, much more valuable. “Any chance that she might turn back to Lolth? Or must I slay her too?”

“Who said we ever turned away?” The wizard replied angrily, as if he had been insulted.

Sheyreiza tilted her head a little and gave him a cold smile that would have sent chills down the spine of most males. “Oh,” she said, almost nonchalantly, “I believe I have said it numerous times since your treachery was discovered. That does not make it true of course. But you can still die for a lie. So, what is your sister's disposition?”

The man shrugged and held up his hands. “I am just a wizard. They called on Lolth to cast their spells and the chapel is still devoted to the Spider Queen in my eyes.” Though his words ran contrary to what Sheyreiza believed, he did not seem to be lying. If he was telling the truth, it threw a wrinkle into her theory about the Melarn heresy. That would have to be worked out later of course; now was the time for action, not theorizing.

“Very well,” Sheyreiza said, letting go of her questions and accusations for the moment, “lead me to your sister.” It took all her emotional strength to keep calm. She wanted this man dead; dead and destroyed and removed utterly from the pages of drow history. But, she could not bring herself to do it yet – he had uses – and his use to Auvryndar outweighed her need for revenge, at least for now.

“May I cast my own protection spells?” He asked.

“No.” Sheyreiza replied. The wizard may have intended the question to be a mere rhetorical courtesy, but to Sheyreiza it was much more serious. Slaying the wizard out of hand might not be prudent, but Sheyreiza certainly did not have to take any risks with him either. Also, if they were going to bring him into the house, he needed to know who commanded; he needed to understand that his station was beneath Sheyreiza’s and it was she who would command him. “Lets build a relationship first.” She gave a mocking smile in a parody of friendship. Sensing the tension, Amien began bouncing faster.

The wizard raised an eyebrow. “That is certainly not a way to start a relationship.”

“It is.” Sheyreiza returned, “as you will be leading me, this prevents you from leading me into a trap your spells protect you from.”

“I see.” The wizard replied slowly. “Those terms do not appeal to me.” He announced cautiously, yet arrogantly. To his right, Barra raised her crossbow.

Sheyreiza looked the wizard dead in the eye. “Your options are limited.” She said in a low voice. “Mine, even more so. I have to slay the royals of this house.” She let the threat hang there in the air and hang there it did, heavy and ominous. Faerylene and Barra took careful aim at the wizard’s limbs, while Amien continued to bounce and Sheyreiza let the head of her morningstar drop.

The wizard stared back, fear creeping across his face. He looked from woman to woman, calculating his next move. Suddenly, he began to intone a spell. Barra loosed a well-aimed bolt the moment he made a sound; it punched through through the man’s thigh and he screamed but not before completing his spell.

Amien charged, weapon held high. “I’ll tear you apart!” She yelled.

The wizard side-stepped and cast another spell; this one engulfed the room in blazing ball of fire. Amien fell instantly, her body completely immolated, but Sheyreiza passed through the inferno. Giving in to her rage, Sheyreiza descended upon the impudent wizard with all her wrath. Lolth’s Blessing arced through air and slammed into the mage’s head. His spells saved him the first time, but the second blow drew blood and by the fourth, bits of bone and brain were splattering about. Sheyreiza kept bludgeoning the Despana archmage until there was virtually no head left on the man to speak of. As she beat him down, she kept snarling. “For Inthara! For Inthara!”

When it was done she stepped back from the corpse and admired her gruesome handiwork. And so it goes for those earn my vengeance, she thought, may Lolth deal with your sorry soul accordingly. She smiled and began to laugh; not a laugh of happiness or excitement, but a chilling, mad cackle of power and revenge. All accounts eventually come due, and this day scores were settled, old and new. And all had been settled in blood. Lolth would be happy.

Amien survived her burns with the help of Faerylene’s curative prayers. The Despana eldest daughter was not so fortunate. Though she fought hard, Sheyreiza and the muder-team slew her just minutes after they had finished with the archmage. Now there was but one Despana left to slay; the matron-mother, Nathrae Depsana.

Using a magical key found upon the dead daughter, Sheyreiza, Faerylene, Barra, Amien and a specially summoned undead warrior, cautiously entered the Despana chapel . Surprisingly, there were no guards in the ante-chamber. Still, the Auvryndar advanced slowly, searching for any sign of ambush. Sheyreiza led the group at the tip of a rough diamond formation. Through an arch-way ahead she could see a female standing upon a dais before an altar. Sheyreiza prayed for Lolth to give her true-sight that she might see through any invisibility or illusions, but though the prayer was answered, nothing was revealed. With her shield raised protectively and morningstar drawn back to strike, Sheyreiza approached the lone female.

The woman was dressed regally in the finest armor, silks and jewelry. She was older than Sheyreiza to be sure, but still beautiful, and she possessed a dignity that most could only aspire to. Even so, there was a palpable melancholy to her. Sheyreiza had no doubt that this was Matron Nathrae Despana.

“So then, I am what remains of Despana.” Her voice was clear and soft, but sad. Sheyreiza could tell the woman was already defeated even though she still lived.

“Indeed.” Sheyreiza replied. For a brief moment, Sheyreiza felt the woman’s pain, felt her sorrow and sensed her loss. Though the Despana matron was Sheyreiza’s enemy, she was also Sheyreiza’s sister in a manner of speaking, and, more importantly, she was one possible vision of the future. Sheyreiza was on the rise, to be sure, and soon she would take this very chapel and this matron’s throne, but nothing lasts forever. Someday Sheyreiza’s reign would come to an end and it could very well come to an end like this. “I suppose you could defect to Auvryndar.” Sheyreiza offered. “I am sure Shyntlara could use you.” Sheyreiza paused. “But I am guessing that is not what you wish.” Somehow, she knew this offer was in vain; after all, she would not have accepted it.

Nathrae shook her head slowly. “No. This has proven one can not cheat fate.”

For a moment the two women regarded each other silently. One was about to ascend; the other about to fall. And yet, they were so much alike, as if each was a picture of the same woman, just at different times in her life.

With some regret, Sheyreiza hefted Lolth’s Blessing and began to twirl the morningstar’s head in an ever quickening circle. “Shall we dance, Matron?” Sheyreiza could not save the woman, but at least she could show the matron some respect at the end. Maybe when Sheyreiza's time came the priestess who would ultimately defeat Sheyreiza would do the same. It was not likely of course, but one never knew.

“Yes.” Nathrae replied quietly with a nod. Gracefully she began to move her fingers and hands while intoning a prayer-spell. Sheyreiza cast her own prayer and disappeared from everyone else’s sight. Faerylene followed suit, invoking a prayer that caused a ray of searing light to issue from her fingers and strike the Matron. As Nathrae sent waves of cold, black negative energy streaming towards where Sheyreiza had been standing, the undead warrior, Barra and Amien flanked the Despana Matron. In a heartbeat the fight became very lopside as the four Auvryndar and their unliving servant descended upon the lone Despana. From all sides they stabbed at her while Sheyreiza’s morningstar plunged down again and again from on high. It was over in seconds. Matron Nathrae Despana lay dead on the dais of her own altar, a bloody testament to the fickle, capricious and cruel lives led by even the most powerful in drow society.

Sheyreiza looked down upon her fallen enemy with as much sorrow as triumph. “And so passes House Despana.” She said quietly. Amien just grinned while an exhausted Faerylene leaned on her sword and a winded Barra caught her breath. Behind the Auvryndar women the door to the chapel’s interior swung shut and with a distinct click, the lock engaged.

“Damn!” Faerylene exclaimed, as she resumed her fighting stance.

“Seems she is not done with us even in death.” Sheyreiza surmised, looking around the chamber. Darkness now obscured the far wall. Sheyreiza narrowed her eyes, raised her shield and drew back her weapon for more battle. Something moved in the darkness. The room grew suddenly cold and very quiet. Sheyreiza could hear her heartbeat and the heartbeats of the others. She could feel the sweat on her brow cooling, sending a chill down her back.

From the darkness an enormous shape emerged; Wendonai had come.

Sheyreiza smiled. “I thought I might see you.”

The demon-lord was not amused. “Again you interfere, Auvryndar.” His voice was the base rumble of a distant cave-in, and carried with it the same threat of death and destruction. Faerylene’s mouth went completely dry and she swallowed nervously.

Sheyreiza, however, was not cowed. She had faced the demon-lord before, and though certainly not his equal in battle, her faith was unshakable. All Wendonai could do was hasten Sheyreiza’s meeting with Lolth. “This is the second of your heretic matrons I have slain, Lord Wendonai.” She grinned and then taunted him with a sneer. “You need better minions.”

Wendonai glanced at Barra. “Ah, my blade.” Sheyreiza did not know what he meant by that, but the demon did not give her a chance to ask. Instead, he smiled back at Sheyreiza with a jagged-toothed grin as ugly as the abyss itself. “Any chance I can convince you?”

Faerylene began to whisper prayers, but Sheyreiza just laughed. “Certainly.” She replied to Wendonai. “Lay down your sword, go to the Demonweb, and beg Lolth’s forgiveness.” Amien suddenly stopped her bouncing and simply stared in wonder or in fear, or perhaps in both, at the strange exchange taking place before her eyes.

A low, rumbling growl issued from the demon-lord. “Even with the aspects you can not stand against me!”

A nervous Faerylene finally overcame her fear and voiced her own definance. “We hinder you all the same.”

Sheyreiza gave a Faerylene a slight nod and looked back to Wendonai. “I do not intend to stand against you myself, Lord Wendonai.”

“Then beg for your life.” The demon snarled.

Again Sheyreiza laughed, and this time, shook her head as if responding to an amusing but incorrect child. “Not in this or any other existence. If I am to die, I will die faithful to Lolth.”

The demon-lord stepped forward, angrily raising a meaty fist. “Last chance.”

Suddenly Sheyreiza realized what Wendonai had said. My blade. The blade Barra carried was one of Wendonai’s own blades, the blades that held a bit of his essence as a demon-lord, like the blade she had taken from Trazk and the one the Melarn matron had carried. But how had Barra obtained it? At this moment, the how did not matter, only the fact that she had it.

Barra realized this as well, and she whispered to Sheyreiza. “The blade, it must hold some power over him.”

Sheyreiza’s eyes went wide and she raised her weapon to attack the demon-lord. “Break that blade Barra!” She screamed. “Stick it in the cracks of the altar and snap it!” And with that Sheyreiza charged the demon.

Wendonai made ready to receive her attack but Sheyreiza’s charge was interrupted by a flash of light. Celuldor teleported into the chamber. “The blade, drop it!” He yelled to Barra.

“No!” Roared Wendonai. The demon-lord surged forth towards Barra, but Sheyreiza interposed herself between them.

“Drop it!” Sheyreiza screamed as she struck at Wendonai. “Do it Celuldor, do it!”

The demon-lord swept his huge, razor-sharp sword at Sheyreiza as he advanced. Barra dropped the blade she was carrying as if it were on fire and Celuldor rushed forward, intoning a word of power. Sheyreiza kept herself between Wendonai and the others. The demon-lord quickly tried to bat Sheyreiza away with his sword but to no avail. As Celuldor spoke his word of power the demon’s eyes went black; Wendonai raised a finger and roared out in the abyssal tongue. “DIE!” A bolt of black-lightening shot forth and struck Celuldor through the heart.

But it was too late. Celuldor uttered the word of power even as the Wendonai’s finger of death snuffed out the wizard’s life. The blade Barra dropped shattered in an explosion of red-light.

“NOOOO!” Wendonai howled helplessly.

“Too late fiend!” Sheyreiza snarled as she struck at the demonic beast. The explosion of red light from the broken sword filled the room until it eclipsed all other light. For a moment, everything went red.

And then it was gone, and with it, Wendonai. Behind the Auvryndar survivors, the door of the chapel unlocked and slowly swung open.

Of Celuldor, only his robes and staff remained. Sheyreiza fought to keep her emotions in check. Fear, hate, disbelief, all threatened to overwhelm her. She staggered back from the dais and looked to where Celuldor’s effects lay smouldering on the floor. Barra was kneeling over them, examining what was left.

“Faerylene, collect my brother's remains.” Sheyreiza ordered. Amien began to shudder violently as the moment of terror ended and the adrenaline hit her. Sheyreiza looked about for the body of Nathrae, but it too was gone. “Damn that beast. This is the second time he has made away with my kill.” Even with Nathrae's body gone and Celuldor dead, this fight was still a victory, and a great victory at that. House Despana had fallen, and now the Melarn were isolated and alone. Auvryndar was triumphant again and any house that thought of siding with Melarn would think twice; the ruin of Despana gave testament to those who crossed Shyntlara and Lolth - and Sheyreiza.

“Thank you great Queen.” Sheyreiza said in solemn prayer. “We thank you for the strands of our fate that you have woven for this cycle. And we shall do you great service. Praise be to Lolth.”

Sheyreiza stretched out her arms and her neck and she set her face into a beautiful but evil mask that conveyed both hatred and supremacy. She motioned for the team to follow her and she walked out of the chapel into the courtyard where her sisters and her house’s army awaited. Standing on the steps leading to the chapel, Sheyreiza raised her bloody morningstar triumphantly. “Warriors of House Auvryndar, the Matron is defeated! House Despana is no more! Victory and vengeance are YOURS!”

The warriors let loose a loud cheer, filled with genuine joy. Victory meant the fighting was over for this cycle; no more of them would have to die for the insatiable ambitions of the priestesses or the squabbles of distant, heartless gods. Wine was passed around and many began to celebrate. Even Ghal’tera, the dour weapons-mistress, smiled. “Then congratulations are in order sister.” She said to Sheyreiza. “Or should I say, Matron Mother?”

Sheyreiza could not help but smile, but she could also not help but be realistic. “We shall see sister.”

* * *

Matron Shyntlara, resplendent in her finest armor and robes, looked down from her thrown upon Sheyreiza's unwashed, bloody, and exhausted murder-team. “Congratulations. The battle is won and the glory is yours.”

Sheyreiza bowed, her matted hair falling over her face. “Thank you, honored Matron.” She paused, and then raised back up. “There is a significant casualty, however.”

The Matron’s eyes narrowed, much like Sheyreiza’s often did. “Oh?”

This news is not going to go down well, Sheyreiza thought. This loss was so heavy it could very well spoil Sheyreiza’s own glory. Nevertheless, the Matron had to know. “Celuldor.” Sheyreiza said simply. Faerylene stepped forward and presented the rolled up robe and staff that were all that remained of the once-formidable wizard. Though Sheyreiza and Faerylene were understandably grave, the situation truly amused Amien who grinned and twisted one of her bloody locks as she watched the nobles talk.

Shyntlara grimaced with anger like Sheyreiza had never seen before. The matron’s black hands gripped the stone arms of her throne with vampiric strength until the stone could take her rage no longer and it exploded into dust and pebbles. Sheyreiza did not move. She did not even breathe. No one else on her murder-team did either.

To the Matron’s right, Shalen, Sheyreiza older sister spoke up as if unaware of the tension in the room, oblivious to the Matron's anger that had just shattered marble. “A pity, but we have the Archmage Nasadra. Celuldor got his due for breaking your command Matron Mother.”

Without hesitating, Shyntlara backhanded Shalen so hard it sent the foolish high-priestess flying out of her chair and into a statue of Lolth. Shalen hit the statue with visceral crack and crumpled to the base, either unconscious or dead. Sheyreiza though the former more likely, but silently prayed for the latter.

“Leave the robe and staff here.” Matron Shyntlara said finally, her voice even but holding within it untold rage. Faerylene immediately complied and set Celuldor’s effects on the carpet at Shyntlara’s feet. Shyntlara glared at Sheyreiza with a gaze so intense that Sheyreiza began to think it was a spell. “Pick your house name,” the Matron said, “and I will make the announcement in a cycle. Now get out of my sight before I crush your skulls between my hands.”

* * *

Matron Shyntlara was true to her word; a cycle later the announcement was sent out from Auvryndar by criers and posted around the strandways of the city.

From the Scribe of Auvryndar-
If any word be untrue my existence is forfeit.

Hear the words of Matron Shyntlara Auvryndar, Matron Mother of the 1st Faithful House of Ched Nasad.

Auvryndar is strong - strong enough that I have decided to replace Despana with a loyal house, faithful to Lolth and the city. Henceforth, my daughter Sheyreiza will be known as Matron Mother Sheyreiza Valakasha of Qu’ellar Valakashakkin Dal'Auvryndar Vharcanum.

Qu’ellar Valakasha shall take the place of Despana as the 11th Faithful house of Ched Nasad.

-Matron Shyntlara Auvryndar

* * *

Sheyreiza sat upon a throne. Her throne. The throne of the Matron of Qu’ellar Valakashakkin Dal’Auyvryndar Vharcanum; in High Drow that translated to the House of Dark Flowers of Black Heart’s Blood’s Vengeance, as Auvryndar translated to Black Heart’s Blood. The common name would be Qu’ellar Valakasha, the House of Dark Flowers. Their symbol was a drow rune styled to look like a thorny rose entwined by a spider web, and their colors were black and purple.

One by one the members of House Valakasha came to her while she sat on her throne in demonstration of their loyalty. First was Faerylene, followed by Jhana and Shein’n, Sheyreiza’s daughters. Then came the rest of the murder-team, including Barra and Khazin. After them, followed the remaining priestesses, wizards, warriors and scouts until all of the new Qu’ellar Valakasha had pledged their lives to Lolth, and to Sheyreiza.

It was done. The power of life and death was hers now; no one held that power over her, save for the Goddess. After all these years, she had finally escaped her mother’s grasp. She had escaped the nightmare that had plagued her since she was ten; the nightmare of becoming just another bloodless corpse at Shyntlara's feet. Instead, Sheyreiza had conquered her enemies and revenged herself upon those who had slighted her. Now she was victorious. Come what may – she had done what few in the world could claim – she had ascended from pawn to Matron Mother. There were more goals to achieve for her ambition was nearly limitless, but for this day, this moment, she was satiated. As she sat on the throne, nodding to the protestations of loyalty from her minions, Sheyreiza smiled. She was happy, and she was free from fear at least for the time being. Even if Lolth struck her down at this very moment, the Goddess could not take away Sheyreiza's achievement - for better or worse, Sheyreiza was, by the measure of her people, a great success.

[Zakharra]

Until I saw this session, I never realized how much Inthara still affected Sheyreiza, even after her death. The lightest of touches, but still sometimes the most effective. Inthara would have been so proud of Shey right then.

*butterfly hugs*

[Mikayla]

Sooooo....there I was this weekend, trying to put together the next chapter in this story, going through old log-files, when I suddenly found the log for THIS attack and sequence of events. Grrr. OK, the general gist of things is right, but the order in which they occur and the dialogue is not. Dammit. So I am going to have to re-write this chapter. GRRRRRR!

GRRRRR!


Hmmph.


Not that anybody actually cares, of course, but its important to me I suppose - and the two people or so who actually read these things. C'est la vie.

[wvincenti]

Oh, it's more than two of us who read it I think.
Keep'em coming please!

-Pale Skinned Brother

[Vendrin]

You better join in the planar campaign bill.

[wvincenti]

You better join in the planar campaign bill.

I have to sleep sometime Vendrin.
Alas for that, otherwise I would.

-Bill

[Mikayla]

OK, the new version of Chapter 19 is up - almost all new, much longer, and I think, much better. This new version includes much more about Faerylene, Barra and Amien than there was in the last version, and is correspondingly more complete, accurate, etc. And you get to read all our actual snappy dialogue, which, though menancing and evil and defiant and omnious and blah blah blah, still is not as entertaining as the Renunzio/Akbar radio show. But then, Akbar is dead, so this is all ye' got folks. Ok, maybe not, but like, shuh, whatever.

[Misty]

I like the parts with me in them



good stuff

[Mikayla]

Indeed, for those unaware, Misty made a brief appearance in the Underdark as Amien, our rather blood-thirsty and eager common-female warrior.

[Mikayla]

I actually managed to do a little editing on this today to remove some of the glaring typos and change some of the really awkward phrases. So, there you go.

[Zakharra]

Yay! I love this, it's so much better. Down with the evil uncle and up with Sheyreiza! Malla tlu Lolth!.


*I very much enjoy reading of the adventures of Sheyreiza and Faerylene and company*

[Vendrin]

You better join in the planar campaign bill.

I have to sleep sometime Vendrin.
Alas for that, otherwise I would.

-Bill

Sleep when your dead. It's only one night a week.

[wvincenti]

You better join in the planar campaign bill.

I have to sleep sometime Vendrin.
Alas for that, otherwise I would.

-Bill

Sleep when your dead. It's only one night a week.

*laughs*
Sorry, no can do. I'm in front of my keyboard too often as is.
Thanks though.

-Bill