Private Tales The Old Ways

[Velkyn]

Velkyn continued to scribble away at the parchment on his desk. The quill making an almost unpleasant sound as he continued to write. Fingers pressed tightly into Xylthe, the Reaver holding her in place until the Drow Lord was finished.

Even as her voice echoed out in protest Velkyn continued his writing, another few seconds passing before it seemed that he was finally down.

The feather in his hand was gently placed besides the Inkwell, and slowly he stood. "We all keep secrets."

He said, finally turning around to face her.

"Slave, master, soldier, scholar." Velkyn mused. "That's only natural."

Slowly he began to walk over towards Xylthe. "But a secret like this?"

He mused. "Well, there's trouble when it comes out, isn't there?"

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe shook in the Reavers grip but she said not a word as Velkyn stalked towards her like a jackal stalking its prey knowing it was trapped. Her breathing grew shorter and quicker but she didn't say a word. Not even when he came to a stop directly in front of her. Silence hung between them like a executioners axe and Avendrow waited for it to drop over her neck.

"I can't tell you," she whispered. Her tone sounded resigned. Resigned to the pain she was going to experience as he no doubt tried to torture the information out of her. Resignation that this would be her death one way of another. "If I tell you, he'll know I'm alive. I would rather die today."

 

[Velkyn]

There was a flicker in the air. A twisting of something. It pulsed over the tentflaps behind Xylthe and ran over the Canvas covering them. It was so sudden and quick that in the moment someone not paying attention would easily have missed it, but the twitch of Velkyn's fingers and the red mist surrounding them was more than enough clue to tell he had cast a spell.

"I KNOW YOU'RE ALIVE!" His voice boomed out like a clatter of thunder. The sound enough to almost make the Reaver flinch.

"Do you think I can' cause you pain?" The Drow Lord said, stepping forward towards his slave. "Do you think I can't peel away the layers of your mind bit by bit until I have what I want?"

Velkyn's hand snapped out, catching her chin.

Fingers squeezing. "Tell me what I want to know, or I will condense the centuries of agony you've endured into the next day."

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe cringed into the Reaver as Velkyn bellowed and her eyes squeezed shut. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to run but her mind held strong. The man who had owned the Dark Sisters, who had bid her hide them until he needed them, was a creature far more foul than Velkyn. It was that horrifying truth, the deep rooted fear that should someone uncover them then he would know she had not died in a house fire, that kept her from sobbing everything out to him right then and there.

"I can't," she repeated so quietly even the Reaver holding her had to lean a little closer to hear. Steeling her spine she forced herself to open her eyes and look her Master directly in the face.

"Lord Selszhar will come. He will know it was I who told you and he will come here. For me."

 

[Velkyn]

As soon as the name slipped from her tongue Velkyn froze.

His expression didn't change, he showed no outside sign of his emotions at all. The face he wore was like a marble mask. For a few seconds he simply stared at her, as if processing what she had just said. Was she being honest?

Truthful?

His fingers squeezed her chin for a moment, eyes staring into her very soul. "Impossible."

Finally he spoke, but there was more than a little doubt in his voice. It wasn't that he thought Xylthe was lying, no, in truth he feared that she was telling the utter truth. Yet any other answer would have been preferable to the one she gave.

"He is half a world away." Velkyn continued with a scowl. "And if he had the Sisters, we would all know it."

Velkyn was sure of that. Selszhar was a warlord, but more than that, he was the first of Lloth. The champion of a God. His very steps could crack stone, his magic powerful enough to sicken those who stood besides him. He was not only cruel, vicious, but even Velkyn could not deny his power.

 

[Xylthe]

"We did know it," Xylthe replied quietly and there was a deep sadness in her voice. "The War of Jaehal, the Battle of Graendel, when the blood ran so thick that to take a step would cause blood to well up underneath your feet," her body trembled and her eyes shut as though she could see it all playing out as freshly as if it had happened that morning.

"He became paranoid others would try to steal them, including his own son. So he asked me to hide them from everyone - including him. For a while things were better but then the withdrawal set in and he... kept demanding to be told where they were. When the fire broke out in his manor..." the story had been widespread so she didn't doubt Velkyn would know. "I... I faked my death. If he find out someone else wields those blades..."

Death would be a mercy.

 

[Velkyn]

It had been known that the great Lord of Dryders had cut himself off from the world for nearly three centuries. Hiding within his fortress and keeping his lands to himself. Those that lived under his influence had relatively good lives, though often interrupted by his bouts of utter insanity.

Even without the Sisters, the Champion of Lloth could break entire cities by his will alone.

Velkyn would never say the words out loud, would never speak them even if pressed by torture. Yet he could admit it to himself, in the back of his mind. The Dryder lord's power scared him. Not the man himself, no, no one could do that.

But the power he held.

The strength he could call upon even when half mad. "Where?"

Velkyn demanded.

"Where did you hide them?" His fingers tightened.

 

[Xylthe]

Velkyn's touch was bruising and a few days ago it would have been enough to have her stammering every little detail he demanded from her. But whether it was the lingering remains of the worms touch on her mind or the stalwart knowledge that someone more terrifying, more dangerous, would hurt her should she give this up, Xylthe chose to remain quiet.

The harder her squeezed, the louder he demanded all she did was press her lips together in silent refusal.

 

[Velkyn]

Velkyn snarled. "Fine."

His voice was cold steel. A razors edge that cut have cut through nearly anything. There was anger and bitterness woven through the words, a fury that could only come from a man who truly saw something that he needed.

Even with the quiet fear he felt of the man that Xylthe had first hid the Sisters enough. Even with the Gods having long turned from the ancient artifact, it was still far too tempting.

"I will rip it from your mind." He said, his fingers releasing her jaw. "Piece by piece."

With a quick heel turn he stepped away from Xylthe. "We're leaving this farce."

Velkyn motioned to the Reaver. "There is something more important now than a simple hunt."

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe's legs threatened to give way as Velkyn let her go. Another few precious moments of life granted that she was not sure she wished for. She had not been lying when she had said she would rather die here than ever see that Drow again nor feel the touch of his flesh against her skin again. Even the threat Velkyn left her with of tearing her mind apart bit by bit did not scare her, though tears began to roll down her cheeks. What scared her was that he would succeed and her old Master would still blame her.

The Reaver didn't let go of her but other shadows seemed to suddenly retreat from the tent and soon one of the other servants Xylthe had hired appeared to let Velkyn know his mount and Xylthe's was prepared and ready to go, that the others would stay to pack down the rest.

 

[Velkyn]

"My friend! My friend, where are you going?!"​

It was Yithrel, the doddering fool who confronted him as they walked towards the outside of the encampment. Confusion flickered over his features, and it was clear that he did not quite understand the sudden urgency that Velkyn was moving with.

He all but stepped in front of the Drow Lord, doing his best to at least get the man's attention. "Something has come up."

Was all the answer he gave.

"What? What could possibly interrupt such a celebration? Did someone insult you? If they did tell, there's no so-"​

Velkyn turned to the man. His lips turned into a thin scowl as he looked at the other Drow. The expression he wore was one of utter disdain. He had to stop himself from grabbing the mans throat and ending him right where they stood.

"Matters of great importance have revealed themselves." He reiterated, knowing his departure would create a stir. "Enjoy your hunt my Lord, but this cannot be ignored."

Stepping past, the other Drow's expression was one of utter consternation.

 

[Xylthe]

The Reaver no longer held Xylthe, or rather, a man who did not look like the Reaver held her instead. Tears still stained her cheeks as he marched her towards her horse. Yithrel glanced between her and Velkyn in confusion.

"Is this to do with the Mind Flayer playing with your servant? I did tell him off when I found out you know, I said Lark, this is not--" The Lady Yithrel seemed to materialise from nowhere, laying a hand on her husbands arm with a gentle firmness.

"Husband, I am sure Lord Velkyn will attend you at your next hunt," Lord Yithrel seemed to pout of all things but nodded glumly and watched as the party mounted and began to trot their horses out of the camp.

 

[Velkyn]

Velkyn new that it was a political fault.

That leaving would mean there would be plots and plans spun within his absence and that someone would gain ground, but it no longer mattered. He had glimpsed a way not to deal with any of them. To get what he desired and more.

Some might call it a fools errand, but Velkyn had seen the fear in Xylthe's eye. He had seen the truth in her terror, and if he could pull from her mind what he wanted. Then Raath was no longer the prize that it had once been. He wouldn't need political machinations.

Still. "Contact Levesari."

Xylthe would hear him say as they rode away from the camp, more than a few from the camp watching them leave.

"I tire of games." There was a bitterness in his voice. "Raath must bend, or break."

He would need a distraction while he pursued the Sisters, and as he finished speaking a shadow seemed to peel itself off from those gathered around the leaving party. Darting away into the darkness of the tunnels in the blink of an eye.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe sat in a daze atop the horse, lost in her own thoughts so thoroughly that she barely had time to worry about being on a horse in the first place. The Reaver wouldn't let her fall and that removed the need for any real concern. What her mind was preoccupied with was a way to end her life before Velkyn or - the Goddess forbid - Selszhar found her. She was convinced she had thought of him so much that, like the old childrens story went, he would now materialise before her and drag her to hell.

She shuddered and the Reaver glanced down at her.

It took the day to make it back finally to Raath. Xylthe was with it enough to feel a small amount of pride that somehow the servants had got a message ahead that their master was returning and to have things prepared.

 

[Velkyn]

Time.

It felt so fleeting even to one like him. He had lived for hundreds of years, near a millenia. Yet half his life had been consumed with fights that felt now squandered. Pursuits which in the light of what he now knew felt utterly useless. So much time thrown away, so much opportunity wasted.

No more.

The gates of his estate fell open, servants quickly rushing to their side. The Reavers that he had left behind quickly came to his side, the curiosity practically breathing from their bodies as they attended him. "Take the girl to her quarters."

Velkyn hissed.

"Watch her." He was no fool, and he would not allow this to be taken away from him like so much else had been. Selszhar did not know, he could not know, otherwise the Underrealm would already have been a very different.

Yet the moment he went looking, the moment a single rumor slipped, that would be enough to draw his eye. He needed to settle Raath first, he couldn't watch over his shoulder. "Three days."

Xylthe would hear Velkyn say as she was lead away, his voice barely carrying to her ears.

"In the meanwhile, I need the Aurrek, I want-" As the Drow continued to talk, Xylthe would be lead away, one of the Reavers clutching her arm and practically dragging her into the estate.

 

[Xylthe]

The Reaver wasn't rough but he was most certainly firm in frog marching her from the courtyard to her quarters which had surprisingly been stripped of the other three beds that had made up the small dorm. Had that somehow been the Reavers, or had those she had hired quietly removed themselves as a thank you for her having found them a home and work at last? Both ideas were unsettling for different reasons.

Shoving her into the room the Reaver turned to lock the door but he did not leave, instead he stood and crossed his arms and watched her like some foreboding spectre. Xylthe pressed her lips together. Death would be denied until she gave him what he wanted. The only way that wouldn't happen was if she fortified her mind. Turning her back to the Reaver she made her way to her bed and sat upon it, legs crossed and hands laid palm up on her knees. Taking a breath and shutting her eyes, she entered a state she hadn't in over three centuries.

 

[Velkyn]

For two days Xylthe was left entirely to herself, well, save for the Reaver that watched over her.

The creature kept a constant vigilance. Every now and again one of the servants she had trained would come and bring her food. Yet whenever they spoke a word of reprimand was immediately cast down, a threat of violence following shortly after.

It was in the midst of the night on the third day that the door would be flung open.

One of the Reavers stepped through, curiously not taking to the shadows as his kind usually tended to do. There was something different about the mask he wore, the teeth more pronounced, the eyes somehow even darker than the others. It was almost as though she were staring at a demon. "It's time."

The Reaver said.

"Bring the slave." There was something awful about the voice, grating and painful to the ear to the point it would make one shirk away. The other Reaver moved at it's command, stepping forward to grab Xylthe if she did not comply.

 

[Xylthe]

The Avendrow were a race known for their natural mental shields. In the days of old it had often meant they made good spies for if they were caught they were hard to crack open, or they were used as mages who could not be so easily over powered by the mages of the enemy camp in the battles of the mind. It had a skill over the centuries that Xylthe had let slide by the wayside. It was not a skill she had desperately needed until now. So for two days she meditated and mentally went through the exercises she had been taught as a small child in order to strengthen those shields. It was all she had in the battle that was to come.

She had been so deep still in those thoughts that she hadn't heard the door open nor the words until the Reaver grabbed her arm and hurled her from the bed. Her legs felt wobbly and she stumbled after him.

"Where are we going?"

 

[Velkyn]

The Reaver looked down at her. "Levesari."

It was a single, one word answer, and one that might invoke much or nothing at all. She had never been told, and never asked where it was the blight that now ruled her life had come from. The city of Levesari, the place that Velkyn was born in, his little fiefdom within the Underrealm.

That was where he was taking her.

The Reaver's fingers dug deep into her arm, clutching her tightly enough that escaping would almost have been easier if she'd simply ripped her own arm off. The claws of his black gauntlet digging into her skin and holding her firm.

They stepped out into the courtyard, finding not horses, but strange lizard like creatures that glowed with a soft light. In the distance one could barely make out the wisps of smoke, the scent of ash and flame within the air.

A glow sticking to the city of Raath on the horizon.

 

[Xylthe]

Xylthe's confusion betrayed her ignorance as she was all but dragged along the hallways, her legs barely able to keep up with the Reaver's much longer strides.

"But why? What about--" the word Raath died on her tongue as they entered the courtyard. The horizon glowed an ominous orange which might have been mistaken for a setting sun... if the sun ever reached the depths of the underworld. Tiny bits of ash floated down from the sky and landed in her hair. Around them servants hurried keeping their heads down as they packed up the things their Master wanted to take with them.

"What has he done?" she whispered in horror.

 

[Velkyn]

Whether out of mercy or cruelty the strange Reaver did not immediately drag Xylthe away from the spot she was standing in. Instead he let her sit, take a breath and smell the acrid air. The soft glow of red seeming to grow and become more menacing.

"I burned it." A voice from behind her said, Velkyn stalking forward and down the steps as he entered the courtyard.

The utter disinterest in his voice was a clear mark of the disdain he had for this place.

Though Raath would have been a fitting prize, he knew that with this new line of inquest things had to change. So he had made a choice, and that choice landed upon a puppet. A man behind him stepped up, a Drow clearly, yet with deep red tattoos crawling up his throat. He stood wearing the armor of a Reaver, though no mask covered his face.

"Or tipped a few hands to make them do it." A bribe here, a word slipped there, riots had been sown. "But do not worry."

Velkyn said as finally the Reaver shoved Xylthe forward. "Order will be restored."

 

[Xylthe]

But why....?

She stared in horror at the burning city until she was sent stumbling forward but her gaze kept drifting back to the smoke curling up into the sky. Was this because of her? Had he been so enraged by her resistance that he had taken out his anger on the city she had grown to love? Of all the places she had lived since her True home, Raath had been the closest to giving her that same sense of a home. And now it was burning. The weak reassurance order would be restored did not fill her with any joy only a sickening sense of foreboding.

The Raath that was her home was gone.

She didn't realise she was crying until the Reaver hurled her up onto the lizard creatures back causing her to choke on a sob.

 

[Velkyn]

They left the city behind.

It was not how he had wanted it, and there would be complications, but at least he had brought some sense back to Raath. Perhaps one day he would return, perhaps one day he might care to, but in that moment he had been offered a much greater path.

While Xylthe left a home behind, Velkyn was heading towards his.

The journey was not an easy one, nor was it safe. Shadows swarmed around them, Reavers both seen and unseen guarding nearly every step. At night sometimes there would be screams, during the day a tension seemed to cling to the very air.

Nine days passed within the darkness, lit only by the soft glow of the luminescent fungi.

It was on the tenth day that the tunnels up ahead began to glow with a dim green light. Not the luminescence they'd had on their journey, but something else. A city that revealed itself after the turn of the tunnel, it's black walls shrouded in a sickly pale green. It's dark light casting down into the underrealm itself.

 

[Xylthe]

Over those nine days Xylthe had mourned for the life she now knew was completely gone, and for the people she had come to consider her own. She barely ate until she was forced and even then it was to only pick enough they knew she wouldn't die. She rarely spoke more than a yes or no answer if she was asked a question and she turned more and more in on herself, retreating to the sanctity of her own mind.

Raath had been the place she had fled to after faking her own death. It was the furthest she could have gotten from the underworld and those who might recognise her and now she found herself being dragged back. It was like being taken towards the hangmans noose. At night she found herself hoping one of the monsters that moved in the shadow would carry her off for its prize. She'd had been quite contented with that end.

When the city came into view Xylthe knew it was her last chance. Once she was inside those walls there would be little chance of escape. Saying a quiet prayer and summoning the last scraps of bravery, Xylthe threw herself from the saddle of the lizard creature and made a bolt for the darkness and whatever death lay there.

 

[Velkyn]

It was a hopeless attempt.

Not because of the lack of danger within the tunnels of the underrealm. There were plenty of things that lurked within the dark that would happily have slaughtered and consumed Xylthe within a matter of seconds. Her life, the knowledge she held mattered little to the creatures who made their home within the dark.

It was her watchers that cared.

Not what lurked within the shadows, but the shadows themselves. The moment she threw herself from the great mount three of the Reavers appeared from nothing. Their dark armored forms slipping from the eternal abyss.

Clawed gauntlets reached out, dark metal nails scratching against her skin as they snatched her up. Knife like fingers digging into her flesh as they pulled her back away from the darkness of the tunnels and once more into the clutches of the small caravan. "Don't be such a fool."

One whispered in her ear as they tore her back.

"There's a better way." The words were quiet, a whisper so quiet that even the two other Reavers holding onto Xylthe wouldn't be able to hear. It was all the man, the creature, said, and then he moved with the others once again towards the caravan.

As the black armored men dragged her back, Velkyn simply sat upon his mount. Icy yellow eyes stared down at the girl, his gaze burning with a quiet disgust.