by Rodger Carr
The young elven woman rode her fiendish chariot boldly into Mezzo'Dakmania and right up to the Citadel. That was the name given to the mammoth, central pillar that supported the massive ceiling of the vast Underworld chamber. Some five miles across, Mezzo'Dakmania filled a single, enormous cavern -- a city of great proportions, even compared to the surface cities that lay more than a month's travel above endless stone. Mezzo'Dakmania was the city of the drow.
Rai'dley pulled hard on the reins as the corridor she rode down opened up into the main chamber of the lost city. The young, black dragon that pulled the chariot obeyed the familiar command eagerly. With a flapping of its unfolded wings, free at last from the confines of the tunnels they had traveled through, it lifted the horrid bone chariot into the air. Rai'dley rode high into the emptiness of the vast chamber, well above the wretched city below her. She knew the dangers she flew over, especially in this part of the city. The dregs that lived in the areas surrounding the great Citadel would be even less accepting of her fair colored skin and dark, brown hair than the still skeptical ruling families of the Citadel. And the drow, even the lowly dregs, were nothing Rai'dley wanted to fight with.
It had been over two decades since Rai'dley jumped through that planar doorway into that abandoned corridor. Since then, she had done nothing but acted upon her plan, the plan of the voice, and through this she had gained great power. Power, she reminded herself that was meant for her to have. And there would be more -- so much more.
She had learned that the drow were her people. At least what remained of them after the surface-worlders drove them into exile, miles below the cavern complex under Bellow's Mountain. In the thousands of years since, the adaptable drow had undergone many changes, all under the strict guidance of their Dark Queen, the goddess Lolth.
It had taken Rai'dley a while, but she eventually figured out that the voice, the plan, had been Lolth's all along. It was this goddess that had pulled her away from her certain death in the cavern complex so long ago. It was she that had summoned her back again, and it was she that had whispered the plan to her for an eternity. It was all Lolth, who over those centuries, had gathered strength in the dedication of these drow. And it was Lolth herself who sanctified Rai'dley's unholy alliance with the drow.
Simply for the fun of it, Rai'dley allowed her fevered mount to spit its slimy green mucous from its slathering mouth. She laughed a hideously evil laugh. She imagined the horrid sounds of drow dregs screaming and running for help. The oozing acid burned into their ebony black flesh. She could imagine them falling into prayers to their goddess Lolth, fearing she must have delivered her wrath on them.
This, too, gave her faithful companion a dragon's grin. It felt good to Algernon to spread his expansive wings into the cold, damp air of the Underworld. They ached from having to remain so tightly folded. The small corridors limited his space while he pulled the ivory chariot through the endless maze of narrow, deadly tunnels that made their convoluted path to the surface world.
Standing next to Rai'dley, in his constant, silent vigil, stood Do'Sol; the undead drow warrior that had become Rai'dley's personal pet. The undead life force glowed a bright red in his deep, ebony eye sockets, under the bright white hair of his race. Dried, death-grayed skin pulled taunt over his thin skeletal frame.
Do'Sol was a matter of great pride for Rai'dley. As the first victim of her devious plan, Do'Sol's walking obedience would prove her scheme viable to the leery drow ruling families. This success would give her the credence she needed to prove her favor with her new allies. It was for this optimism alone that they gave her any measure of trust -- that and the sacred council of their evil goddess, Lolth, their Dark Queen.
Do'Sol had been an accomplished fighter during his long life as the house patron of the first ruling family. Thanks to Rai'dley, he had been able to retain his remarkable fighting prowess, even after death. This was the unique strength of Rai'dley's plan, that the victims retained their abilities and that they were now completely under her control. Through his death and re-animation, Rai'dley's will usurped his own. He now existed in a state of mindlessness; his spirit distilled away.
Rai'dley shortened the long path to her castle through the generous use of magical gates. They encountered little resistance on their journey, despite the clatter of the chariot and Rai'dley's commanding voice. Few things dared challenge a dragon, quite rare in the depths of the Underworld. The reputation of a drow, the likes of Do'Sol, also helped immensely. Fewer still were the things that would challenge, or rather succeed, against a powerful mage like Rai'dley. During their very first venture to the city of drow, they had pioneered a path. They needed to clear out a number of monsters, most of which would remain too disturbed by the displays they had witnessed then to ever return to Rai'dley's trail again. They rode on with great speed, nonetheless, hoping to avoid most of the great horrors that lurked in these narrow corridors. They were visitors to the Underworld. Here, not even the great strength of a dragon and the wondrous powers of Rai'dley's spells would be match against some of the horrors that called the Underworld home.
Rai'dley circled high around the Citadel, locating E'Logra, the giant ball of heat that ceaselessly circled around the cavern ceiling. In the pitch black that was Mezzo'Dakmania, this globe of warmth glowed in the heat detecting infravision of Lolth's children. Rai'dley, not so adapted to life in the Underworld, lacked the keen sensitivity to the glowing ball. Yet, as always, she used magic to supply that which she lacked. A pair of enchanted lenses hung from her crown. They enhanced her natural abilities; providing her with the same superior infravision of the drow.
She marked E'Logra's position around the Citadel, and saw she was a bit late for her meeting with Mother Fa'Langa. This pleased her just a little, picturing the great Matron Mother of the first ruling family pacing in nervous anticipation. "It won't hurt the old girl to feel some distress over this meeting," she smiled as Algernon started his descent.
The Citadel housed everything that was important to the twelve ruling families of drow. They designed the structure to protect those that dwelled within. They did not fear the beasts of the darkness that might wander into the drow city, for all beasts around knew better. Instead, they designed the defenses of the Citadel to keep out the dregs that surrounded them. If the millions of lower drow were ever able to organize themselves, their sheer numbers would be a substantial threat to the ruling families that forced them into slavery. Therefore, besides the impressive defenses, the ruling families spent considerable time and energy in keeping the dregs in a constant state of chaos. This chaos and fear pleased the Dark Queen to no end.
The Citadel itself was an island, separated from the dregs by a wide stretch of the river Rah, which flowed around the base of the Citadel. The river provided Mezzo'Dakmania with its water supply. This fast flowing moat also provided the first line of defense for the massive column.
Beyond the river, stood a fence. Constructed of adamantane and twenty feet tall, it surrounded the Citadel as the next line of protection. Adamantane was stronger than any other steel in the world. Upon this enclosure was cast a great number of wards and spells to further bind, strengthen, and magically reinforce this barrier against intruders -- magical or otherwise. While dregs never have held magical talents, the ever-cautious ruling families would leave nothing to chance.
Inside the imposing fence was the courtyard. Here, countless guards could rain down thousands of poisoned quarrels from small drow crossbows; another specialty created by Rai'dley's violent descendants. Only by vulnerably crossing this wide-open expanse could one reach the Citadel itself, and gain entry to the main gates there.
Knowing it would not be able to penetrate the magical dome of protections that covered the courtyard, Algernon spewed venom out toward the magical barrier. He took pleasure in seeing the guards below flinch as the acidic goo crackled and sizzled as it struck the magical shielding and rolled off harmlessly. Though also
inwardly amused by their fearful respect, Rai'dley gave a sharp tug on the reins to warn her beastly friend.
Algernon gently set the chariot down between the swiftly moving river, and the magical fence. The great ivory war machine was constructed from the skeletons of those who had not respected Rai'dley's authority. Algernon did not care to be another trophy.
The bones used for the chariot were stripped bare of flesh and carefully polished to a gleaming white. Strands of magic itself bound the bones of the chariot together. Algernon had to respect that kind of power. The impressible young dragon considered drawing such a creation a privilege.
Dragons don't take to servitude to any master, but Algernon maintained dignity in his position by not letting Rai'dley forget that his services were voluntary. Though young, Algernon was not too immature to protect himself from becoming enslaved while he worked things toward his own means. Right now, he often reminded himself, this Rai'dley served him. She had built quite a considerable wealth in magical items and other treasures. If Algernon worked it right, he figured he could get more than his fair share of the riches when the right time came. Until then, he was comfortable waiting and learning what he may from this admirably evil elf.
Rai'dley reached into one of the many hidden pockets of her new purple and black dress, and slid out a small coin. Stamped on one side was the likeness of a giant spider, the holy symbol of the goddess Lolth. On the other side was a picture of a serpent biting its own tail, the symbol of the First Family, Fa'Langa. This family symbol was her ticket into the Citadel.
Trying not to show her nervousness, she pressed the adamantane coin into her palm and calmly walked up to the spider-shaped gates of the fence. She could feel the magical emanations of the powerful enchantments from a distance, and her skin crawled at the pain those spells could cause. The coin was supposed to give her protection from these defenses. Even though it always worked in the past, Rai'dley didn't know how far she could trust her new "friends."
As she approached, Do'Sol shadowing her every move as commanded, the adamantane gates creaked open in rusty welcome. Hesitating only a little, she pressed through. The fingers of a million magics combed over her in unnerving tests. They sought out the coin, and only once found in her palm, did they relinquish. She wanted to thrust the coin before her, let them easily find their mark and leave her alone. But she would not give the drow who watched the satisfaction of her weakness.
Do'Sol followed, his coin hanging around his neck. A mindless undead, he held no fear of the magical wards, no comprehension of the pain they could cause. His dried leathery skin did not ripple under the probing of the magic. It didn't bother him at all. That was the beauty of the zombies, Rai'dley smiled. Nothing bothered them.
Once inside, Rai'dley waved the coin at the guard, knowing she didn't really need it. Rai'dley was the only fair-skinned elf any of the guard had ever seen, and they were not likely to forget her. Still, it gave Rai'dley a confident feeling of power to remind them of her honorary prestige.
The lines of male drow that guarded the gates to the interior of the great pillar parted, allowing her passage. Not for respect for her importance, but simply because she was female, the guard kept their eyes averted from Rai'dley's; as the males of this matriarchal society were taught. Stiff and cruel torture awaited any who might disobey this primary law of Mezzo'Dakmania.
Rai'dley silently approved of this respect. She pointed at Do'Sol with an index finger ringed by a small, bejeweled skull set on a silver band. She planted the command, "Follow and defend," in the emptiness that was his mind. Without the will to refuse her, the once proud warrior had no choice but to fall behind her, a respectable distance away. Behind them, Algernon impatiently padded at the stone ground with sharpened claws. Rai'dley, smiling, entered the Citadel.
Inside the Citadel, Rai'dley called upon the magic of a levitation spell, and easily floated up a magically protected tube to the highest level of the structure. This levitation power came naturally to the drow of the ruling families. Reserved for the first ruling family, this level of the Citadel would only allow passage to outsiders with the proper coin. Do'Sol stepped out behind her, into his former home.
The narrow corridor led to the meeting room Rai'dley visited often these past few years. Her negotiations with the drow were slow and hard fought. Large tapestries stretched from ceiling to floor along both hallway walls. Rai'dley felt the heavy stares of the guards that held their posts behind the fabric partitions. She could feel their gazes as they uneasily tracked her movements along the short hallway, and followed her with the sights of their crossbows. She was sure that seeing the undead Do'Sol following closely behind her unnerved them. She also felt confident that none would make the mistake of accidentally shooting the guest of the First Mother.
If having to wait for Rai'dley riled Mother Fa'Langa, the Matron Mother didn't show it. Much to Rai'dley's disappointment, the First Mother sat calmly on her throne. The large chair was shaped in the form of a huge spider, the symbol of their Dark Queen. As a symbol of the First Family serving this goddess, a large serpent wove its way around the legs of the arachnid until it reached its own tail to bite it.
Light was not common in the eternal darkness of the Underworld. In the aesthetic world of beauty and wonder of the drow city, they used light skillfully to focus attention where they most desired it. Two large, radiant cocoons hung from poles on either side of the throne, and cast a gentle glow on the face of the Matron Mother. While not brilliant by any means, it was just bright enough for the surface-elf to be able to read the woman's facial expressions clearly. Deep wrinkles cut into her face, revealing a very old woman, but her eyes lit with a bright flame of life. Mother Fa'Langa was not dead yet.
The meeting room was deceivingly large, with the major portion of the ceiling illuminated by a thousand points of light. Despite their twinkling purple hue, they reminded Rai'dley of stars. Combined with the two cocoons, the light in the room was not any brighter than a single candle. The light quickly dissipated into the hungry void of darkness hovering in the corners of the room. There, hidden among the shadows, her magical lenses of infravision revealed rows of guards ready to come to the aid of their Matron Mother.
Standing like statues on either side of Mother Fa'Langa's throne were the daughters and female attendants of the first ruling family. They ranged in height and dress; from tall, older women dressed in layered robes, to young, petite girls scantily clad. They flanked either side and stood perfectly still. All of their features were delicate and beautiful, yet bold, as if artistically carved from solid blocks of obsidian. This show of power and unity made for an impressive display of formidable strength. While the drow families constantly warred between each other, there was nothing as important to a ruling family as the Matron and her daughters.
Even the Matron Mother of the first ruling family, the most powerful female in all of Mezzo'Dakmania, closest to the beloved Dark Queen, couldn't help being nervous about this Rai'dley. Other than the occasional sacrifice, which Mother Fa'Langa hardly held conversations with, she had never met a surface-elf before, the traditional bane of the drow's existence. The drow were incapable of understanding the ways of these creatures; so foreign were they to their world. Mother Fa'Langa never knew how to take this one. She was both amused and outraged when the arrogant young elf stepped into her chamber, her long flowing gown in the sacred colors of purple and black. Only priestesses of Lolth were allowed to wear these colors among the drow. It infuriated her to see her being so disrespectful, but then she was also amused. Did this young child of a surface-elf think wearing these colors would win her the favor of the Dark Queen? If so, she had much to learn, and Mother Fa'Langa hoped to be present when Lolth taught her that lesson in humility.
More personally offensive, the Matron Mother objected to the silver crown that adorned Rai'dley's head. Yet still, noting that this crown held in place the magically enchanted
lenses that Rai'dley needed to see in this dark domain, gave Mother Fa'Langa the satisfaction of her weakness. Lolth despised weakness as much as she did arrogance.
With regal control, Mother Fa'Langa sat comfortably and calmly. "No troubles in the tunnels, I trust," she smiled, intimating her guest's tardiness.
Rai'dley recognized that twisted grin, and knew that the First Mother was hoping there had been. "Nothing I couldn't handle, I assure you," Rai'dley replied, matching her evil smile.
Their mutual understanding of respect complete, Mother Fa'Langa quickly set to business. "I see that Do'Sol seems to be serving you well."
"As I knew he would. His blades are no less swift, his edge no less sharp. A fine fighter, he is. It is almost a shame we had to squelch his strong spirit."
"He does seem much more obedient now; more appropriately behaved for a male," Mother Fa'Langa noticed admiringly. While truly impressed, she did not want to reveal her pleasure and amazement to Rai'dley.
"A faithful slave," Rai'dley agreed, not losing an opportunity to promote her success. "He shall pose no threat to anyone but my enemies, now."
"Well, good riddance to that one." The Matron Mother pronounced as much to diminish his value as to explain her willingness to sacrifice such a strong warrior for Rai'dley's test. "He caused the death of my favorite mate during our conquest, one of our few casualties, praise Lolth. His torture now will suit him well."
"I trust, then, that you are pleased by that eternally pained look in his eyes."
"That I am, to be sure," she admitted, "as I am sure the Dark Queen is. We both anxiously await your next test."
"The army I promised you will be here shortly. You needn't worry about that. And, after the treatment," Rai'dley pointed to Do'Sol for effect, "they, too, shall be eager to do the bidding of their mistress. The facilities are prepared then?"
"The final preparations are being completed as we speak. We will be ready by the time they get here. Lolth will be quite pleased by the size of this amazing sacrifice you promise, and will surely grant us the powers we need."
"Of course she will be pleased. Do not forget that it was her divine inspiration that planted the seed of this plan in my mind and in my heart. All glory to Lolth, and Lolth alone," she repeated a common praise for the Dark Queen. Her devious smirk teased sarcasm.
"Death to those who oppose her," Mother Fa'Langa added, her serious stare attempting to correct Rai'dley's blasphemer.
Rai'dley simply nodded in agreement, careful not to upset the fragile bit of trust she felt she had gained by her display here today. She needed this unholy alliance.
However, Lolth herself warned Mother Fa'Langa about the strong ambitions that motivated this one called Rai'dley. Forever obedient to her goddess, the Matron Mother had carried out Lolth's wishes. She accepted the strange surface-worlder when the one the Dark Queen described had come to her with her plans to build an undead army. While Lolth revealed that it was her desire to make it so, she also stressed that it was Mother Fa'Langa's responsibility to keep an eye on this new tool for the Dark Queen. Lolth treated Mother Fa'Langa to some most disturbing visions, which still haunted her now. Those horrors described what would happen if she failed to keep this surface-worlder in her place. The First Mother had no intentions of disappointing the Dark Queen. "As long as you understand this, I'm sure there will be no problems."
"Believe, too, that it is my intention to carry out Lolth's plans, and that I will tolerate no problems. I am not your enemy. The enemies are those who live above, those who praise the other gods, false idols, undeserving of Lolth's powers. They are our enemies, and it is they who shall feel the wrath of Lolth."
"I have not forgotten; I can never forget, surface-worlder. Ever is it in the mind of every drow. The hatred burns within us always, for the surface races that drove us from the face of the world. They drove our ancestors into holes in the ground like rodents, to bury them alive there. It is our every desire to eliminate these enemies. But also, we do not forget that if it had not been for their folly, we would not have found Lolth. Lolth has shown us the way, aided us in our survival, and to her we owe all. Our obedience is to Lolth and her ways, and to her ways alone. We are forever her children, and it is our faith in her that keeps us alive still. That loyalty will never waiver."
The display of the drow religion impressed Rai'dley; but it never concerned her. Their faithfulness to her wasn't what she wanted. She required their services. Where she planned on going, she would have no need for the pathetic descendants of her ancestors, or anyone else as far as that mattered. "Good," she responded confidently, unshaken from the sermon, "It is that loyalty that I am counting on."
An unseen murmur ran through the attendants gathered there. No one spoke so blatantly, so blasphemously to the First Matron Mother like that, and it amazed them that she hadn't sliced Rai'dley down for her insults. Still, Mother Fa'Langa maintained her calm.
"Rest assured that the army will be here in time for the Festival. I shall return at that point. It will certainly be an unforgettable day for the Dark Queen. I'm sure that a sacrifice of this magnitude will bring you quite close to the goddess."
"And you as well," Mother Fa'Langa reminded her that this was not a selfless sacrifice for Rai'dley, either.
"And so it shall," Rai'dley agreed with a satisfied grin. "Until that day of glory, then." Without waiting to be excused, as was customary, Rai'dley gave a deep bow that was questionably sincere, turned, and left the way she came in. Do'Sol mindlessly followed.
Without warning, the First Mother made a silent motion, and from the darkness of the corners, stepped three male drow guards that blocked Rai'dley's path to the door. As they threateningly approached, Do'Sol leapt into action by the last command spoken to him, "Follow and defend."
With surprising speed and grace, the undead warrior leapt into the air. Doing a forward somersault over Rai'dley's head, he landed feet first on the chest of the first guard, drawn sword pinning the man to the floor. Without slowing for regrets or apologies, the once mighty warrior launched towards the remaining two foes, matching their synchronized swordplay blow for blow. While their attacks varied properly, high, low, slash and thrust, Do'Sol was a first male. This was a position accomplished through the death of many males such as these.
The drow on the right failed to parry a lethal blow, as Do'Sol's sword slipped through the hole in his defenses. It was only for a second, but it was half-a-second more than the skilled swordsman needed. Long sword clenched in bone hand extended into the heart of the young drow.
Distracted by the falling of his companion, the second was quick to follow. As the guard looked over to see where the other had been, a strong swing from the tireless zombie warrior cleft the man's head from his shoulders with a sickening sound. His body slumped to the floor as his head still rolled around Do'Sol's skeletal feet.
Do'Sol scanned the room for any additional threats, but the shadows remained still. Obediently, Do'Sol sheathed his sword and returned to his silent place behind Rai'dley, ready to continue following her command, "Follow and defend."
The conscious-less efficiency of her pet impressed Rai'dley. She turned for the glare at Mother Fa'Langa that the First Mother expected of her. A broad smile spread across the Matron Mother's face, and her approval was easy to read. Rai'dley didn't know what to say. Luckily, she needed no words. She simply turned again and walked out, this time without interference.
Once Rai'dley had disappeared for several long seconds, the quiet murmur among the attendants erupted into audible chatter. "Enough!" Mother Fa'Langa fumed. "Quiet now, or I shall have you all sacrificed! You, there!" the ancient woman pointed at random to the youngest of those gathered. "Se'Lena, my dear," her voice suddenly terrifyingly sweet, "Tell me, what do you find so amusing? Please, share it openly, not in whispers."
Se'Lena, Mother Fa'Langa's fifth-born daughter and youngest member of the First Fami
ly, stepped forward. The Matron Mother required this of her when addressing her mother. "Now, least daughter of mine," the Matron Mother insulted her, "tell me what you laugh at, child." Her eyes penetrated the slender frame of her dark elf daughter, who barely dared lift her gaze to look at her mother's feet. She could feel the stare attack her, making her ebony flesh ripple up and down her back. Her full crest of shocking white hair stood on end. The stare slammed into her with such force to strip away any ideas of revolt from her feeble mind; not that she would have dared foster any to begin with.
"I certainly do not laugh at you, most favored Matron Mother of Lolth, leader of the first ruling family of Mezzo'Dakmania. Never at you." Her voice shivered. She had made it a habit, in her thirty young years, to stay in the shadows; hiding from the piercing notice of her greatly feared mother. Now, forced into the light of the chamber room, dim as it was, she felt naked and vulnerable. She nervously folded her arms across her scantily dressed chest. She wore the costume of a young priestess of Lolth, having only entered the Order five years ago. Lolth designed the costume to barely cover the most private of parts -- in hopes to teach the young priestesses the appropriate humility of their position. In the long lives of the dark elves, higher priestesses of the Order were expected to dedicate hundreds of years to the service of Lolth before gaining a position of any respect.
"Do not toy with me, child. You are not worthy to speak the name of the Dark Queen. Neither are you in my favor enough to jest at my expense." Mother Fa'Langa's voice dripped with poison. Se'Lena had attended in her court long enough to know what was to come.
"I assure you, Honorable Mother --" she feebly attempted to defend herself. She pushed back her locks of shocking white hair from where they fell into her face.
"Silence!" the First Mother screeched. Her patience for disrespect was minimal, and the wrath of her rage was usually great. She made no arguments when Se'Lena's sisters moved away from her, distancing themselves from the inevitable retribution for their younger sister's insolence. They had survived their greater years only by respecting the unpredictable ire of their powerful mother.
"You have insulted me, and you have insulted the name of our goddess. For this, you pay the supreme price. For your sacrilege, the Dark Queen requires your sacrifice. So, in the name of Lolth," she spoke in a rising tone, moving a bent and aged finger to point at the girl. "I thus command you, Se'Lena, fifth daughter of Family Fa'Langa, to DIE!"
With this command word, a bolt of black energy blasted across the room and exploded into the chest of the beautiful, young girl, draining the life from her. That life force, freed from the girl's body, zipped around the room as a small, shining ball of blue light. The evil mother of the First Family of Mezzo'Dakmania snatched it up and devoured it like a frog snatches a fly from the air.
She cackled a hideous laugh, which echoed throughout the hollow, empty chamber that housed the kingdom of the dark elves. As the energy flooded into the ancient woman's body, renewing some of the life force lost to age, the distant echo ran an evil shudder up Rai'dley's spine. She entered a secret, magical doorway on her bone chariot, skipping the long journey through the tunnels, back to her castle on the surface.
A single tear trickled down Do'Sol's ash-gray cheek for the son Rai'dley forced him to leave behind again. "Maybe next time, Dai'Myn. Maybe next time," he promised to himself.
Chapter 4
Cy'nan