25 April 2011

1:13 Bahlzair.

Aleksei took a serious look at my hand in the poor candle light, a sigh rattling in his chest.

"You are having more questions?" he asked simply, taking his gaze from my hand to my eyes.

I pursed my lips and decided that I could certainly do worse than trust a Dragonborn who had legitimately just finished telling me what must have been the worst story of his life, right after he almost rode the tips of my daggers down to the gates of the Hells.

"Uirrigan spoke of a Drow here-"

"Bahlzair.  You would not wish to meet him in full battle many times," Aleksei laughed.  "He could spit on his blade, and it would burn you like a master alchemist's best work."

"I thought Drow leaders didn't allow their men to learn such arts," I puzzled, crossing my arms.  Aleksei rested his hand comfortably on his thigh again, peeking down the hall toward some unknown lurker.

"Indeed, they do not.  But Bahlzair, he is different.  They are knowing he is capable of terrible things.  He is having much success against surface Elves, so his people are using him in many battles.  Surface Elves are learning his name, because he is unique.  When our two honorable captors and their mighty kobold army are first ambushing his raiding party, most of the female warriors are leaving him behind, saying, 'He is a male.  He is not so precious.'  But they are wrong, and one of them is staying with him until she cannot.  His blood is all bitter, so much that he cannot speak.  His body is making poison, all on its own.  Every drop of his sweat is deadly.  He fights with a rage that is too heavy for him to bear, because what little happiness he is having, your flouncy Elves are taking from him.  The lives of more than half the kobolds here are belonging to his blades.  He is never sleeping, not once since I am meeting him.  The winged one is healing me, but he is far too furious to remain hurt or unwell.  He is healing himself, with his anger alone."

Aside from his incredibly snide portrayal of the Drow's capture, I had to laugh at Aleksei's description of the creature.  "You're kidding me, Aleksei.  No one sweats poison.  The way you're describing him, if he tried to sire a child, he'd wind up killing the female."

Aleksei got up from his position and snorted down at me.  The candle sputtered at the sudden gust of air from his cavernous lungs.  "Yes, he would; I believe this.  He is more than alchemist.  He is living poison.  He sweats it, breathes it, bleeds it.  It is just as I am telling you.  I do not know why."  He reached out his hand, and I looked at it for a moment before I decided to accept it.  "It is my privilege to speak with you," he said gravely, inclining his head slightly.

"Ah, uhm-" I managed, wide-eyed and surprised.  "Same to you?"

Aleksei chuckled and let me go.  "It is many customs you are not having," he said in a compassionate tone as he made his way back up the incline.  "This is northern Arkhosia's way of bidding brothers and sisters farewell."

"Pfft, no, we don't go around saying things like that just to say good bye or good night," I responded, turning to watch him go.  "We just leave- or at least I always have.  Aren't you going to lock me in?"

"Locks are for making one stay in their place when they have an idea about how to get away," Aleksei replied, almost out of sight.  "It is I who will be locked in, once I return to my cell.  Perhaps Syjenge is already contemplating his flail, or the dimensional shackles."

"Dimensional shackles?" I asked, having to call after him by now.  I heard no reply. Just as I turned, I caught a rat scurrying up from another cell.  "You're alive, so you're getting food.  Maybe if I follow-"

The rat moved quickly- very quickly.  I don't know what I expected out of a creature liable to be killed for food, but the fact is that I wasn't completely prepared to follow the tiny beast.  My eyes struggled to go from the near blackness of the caverns to the brilliant blazes of the far separated torches along the walls.  If I'd had any questions about whether the place was a functional citadel or not at one time, a near fifteen minutes of silent exploration cured them.  The curious scrawling in the unidentifiable language graced a few recognizable areas- a communal living space of some sort, some kind of place of bathing.  When I finally lost track of the rat for good, my ears caught a disturbing, but almost welcome sound-

Grinding.

Either someone was sharpening a weapon or a cooking tool.  No farming could possibly be done so far below the caresses of the sun-

Wait, I thought.  Drow.  Do Drow farm?

There was absolutely no time between this stray thought and a sharp tug on my hair.  Whomever my captor was wrapped their hand in my short strap braid and yanked it so hard that I had absolutely no choice but to jerk upward.  This spoke to a good deal of physical effort on their part, even though I had been surprised.  So imagine my confusion when I turned my head- with significant difficulty- to look into big, silver eyes.

"Silveredge?"

A bluish hand was instantly clamped over my mouth.  Without a word, I was forcibly quick marched closer and closer to the origin of the grinding sound.  There were no torches at all down these corridors, and everything became as black as a death shroud.  The chilly stone floor grew steadily warmer and warmer, as did our utterly dark surroundings, until I was sure that I was going to be thrown in an oven.

I was half right.

When we stepped past a carved stone arch, the light of a roaring fire struck my eyes so strongly that I felt as though it was literally melting them from my sockets.  Silveredge was affected too, as she paused for a split second before marching me around the stone cylindrical oven at the heart of a decent sized room.  I struggled to recognize that there were shelves- shelves that lined the entirety of the room, filled with different bottles and jars, not unlike the back of Uirrigan's gigantic study area.  Off in the corner were two straw beds with two more shirts stuffed with straw.

Aleksei took care of this room, I thought.

The grinding stopped.

I tried to turn my head to see what had been the cause of the noise in the first place, but Silveredge managed to hold my head absolutely firm, her hair-filled fist pressed directly behind my neck.   A few moments later, a slender, ebony-skinned male with shock white hair strode calmly into my line of sight.  He came close to me- so close that I thought he was going to try to get his jollies off me- but then turned his head slightly to one side and smelled me.  It was a deep intake of breath that he savored with closed eyes.  His lips thinned, then firmed into a scowl that his face was obviously quite used to.

"What do you think you're going to do?" I dared, my voice low, but intense.

The dark-skinned creature turned his back on me without answering, focusing instead on the myriad of holding jars that lined the shelves.  After careful contemplation, he reached his left hand out to his side, maybe about a foot away from his shoulder.  No words were spoken.  No unnecessary movement made.  In moments, the vessel he wanted lifted itself out of its place and flew into his hand.  He lifted his right hand, a bit farther to his side, with his palm upraised and all his fingers fully extended.  A small silver blade, etched with shockingly blue markings, glided right past him and settled itself on a far shelf.  It took me a few moments to notice that on its way, it had sliced his thumb open.  The minute he sprinkled some dust from the vessel into his mouth and then stuck his thumb in after it, I knew exactly who I was looking at.

"I said what are you going to do, Bahlzair?"

The male paused, his scowl lightening slightly at the recognition of his name, but that momentary surprise didn't stop him.  He took his thumb out of his mouth, drew his right hand back and cracked me across the jaw with the most solid backhand that I think I've ever suffered.  Then, with focused quickness, he grabbed my lower jaw, which had popped open, and spat into my open mouth.  I was completely disgusted, of course, and began to gag.  He pressed his fingers on my cheeks until I could taste my own blood, then pushed my head as far back as it would go.  I gurgled, but couldn't spit back at him, due to his powerful clamp on my lower jaw.  I suppose he must have spirited his vessel back to its place, because his right hand found its way over my nose.  I clearly had a choice- swallow so that I could breathe through my mouth, or stifle.

Silveredge was smart.  She'd clamped my tail between her legs.  Had she not done that, I would have at least had some sort of recourse.  But since I couldn't think of any way to successfully repel them both, and my lungs started to burn from lack of air, I went ahead and swallowed.

The hold at the back of my neck and on my tail were immediately released, but my head was still held painfully aloft until the Drow reached whatever designated time he'd set in his mind.  He led me by the jaw, turning me until my back was to the stove.  Then he shoved me backward, hard, so that I slammed into the hot stone, losing what little breath I'd struggled to catch.  I stumbled forward a bit as he watched me with brilliant blood red orbs.  The horrid mixture had left a chalky aftertaste, but I didn't have long to worry about that.  I realized with horror that my tongue was becoming numb.  I tried to holler, but found that I could no longer get my voice above a hollow whisper.  I looked to my right to find Silveredge sitting on one of the straw beds, her gaze sorrowful and pleading.  She said nothing, and turned her eyes away as soon as I caught them.  But she slowly waved her hand downward.

I'm a bit more hard-headed than I'm sure she hoped.

I tried to move forward to grab her, to demand what was going on, but my knees buckled and dumped me onto the floor.  The dark skinned male moved forward instantly, gathering me into his arms like a small child and walking quickly over to the unoccupied straw bed.  Without a lick of protest, he laid me down onto the bed, and both he and Silveredge tried their best to put me in a proper position.  While they tried to do this, I found that I couldn't keep my eyes open.

I drifted helplessly into a genuinely terrified sleep.

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