The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2

It was Ronthiel! Why was he volunteering when he despised her so?

“I shall stay here with Leradien,” he offered, “chained or unchained.”

Shinayne looked for any objections. When there were none, she nodded.

“Very well!” she agreed. “The Light Elf shall stay with the drider, but we shall not chain him as the word of a Light Elf can be trusted.”

She turned to Graybeard. “When shall we meet here again?”

Graybeard looked at Kreel. “How many days do you need to prepare?”

“Normally a week,” replied the weapons maker. “But with the drider chained and the need to keep her sanity, I think we could make it three days if we try.”

“Then three days it is,” agreed Graybeard.

“Then that is our plan,” said Shinayne. “We shall all meet here in three days to send you back to Orlytlar. When you have diverted all Lolth’s armies away from here to there, we shall attack Ched Nasad. Do you wish to address your company alone now before dividing up?”

“We have no secrets from you,” answered Graybeard. “But the others may wish to speak with one another before separating or ask questions of you. I shall let them do so now.”

“I have a question,” piped in Marroh at the chance. “While I’m here, no one will expect me to ride anything, will they?”

He was wary of having to ride a lizard or a steeder.

“You will ride nothing. You will not be seen in our streets.”

“Then that is agreeable to me,” said the dwarf with obvious relief.

Ronthiel approached the boy. “Do not worry about Leradien. I shall take good care of her. Enjoy yourself here in this place and whatever it offers while you can.”

“I shall try to visit you both,” promised the boy.

“And I, too,” said young Joe.

“Well! Don’t be trying to leave me out of it!” interjected Marroh. “I shall try to come too! After all, she’s an honorary member of the gang!”

They all stayed while Leradien was chained by all eight legs, just in case she afterward changed her mind about allowing it, and then they were taken their separate ways by the women of the Black Dragons, leaving Ronthiel behind with Leradien in the now empty steeder barn with its moss covered floor.

“Well!” he said, removing his pack when they were alone. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted! It was a long journey getting here.”

“You think I care?” she replied irately. “Sleep all you want!”

“You should do so too,” he advised. “It will make the time pass quicker.”

He propped his soft leather pack against her, lying down next to her to put his head against his pack.

“What are you doing?” she demanded of him.

“Taking a nap,” he said, knowing she could do nothing about it.

“I have told you before. I am no Light Elf’s pillow!”

“You are my pillow now, and for the next three days as well.”

She lightly slapped the side of his head with her hand in warning. “Don’t get insolent with me, you arrogant little elf!”

He smiled, chuckled, and refused to move.

“Unless you wish me to leave you here all alone,” he told her. “You will cease your own insolence. It is high time you learned your place! For the next three days, I shall be giving you the orders, for it is about time someone gave you some! Now I prefer a steady pillow, so don’t move. And–Oh! Yes!–I believe the back of my neck and shoulders need rubbing.”

“What?! I should break them!”

“No. You won’t,” he stated. “You shall be most gentle. Now I’m waiting.”

“Wait all you want!”

“Make up your mind,” he said uncaringly. “Either go insane alone in your chains or put up with me. The decision is yours. I suggest you be quick about it for I imagine there are many drow women in this city that would prefer my company if you don’t.”

“Then let me remind you,” she said in warning, “that, sooner or later, they’ll take my chains off and I shall remember your insolence and reward you accordingly!”

“That problem will only be mine if you’re still sane when they remove your chains,” he replied with a yawn. “What are the chances of that if I leave you?”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance!”

“But you didn’t,” said Ronthiel. “And it’s too late now. So which will it be? Me or insanity? My shoulders are waiting.”

Her eyes glared, but then her hands reluctantly came about his shoulders.

“I shall remember this!” she said.

“So shall I, provided you do a good enough job.”

He felt her fingers tighten, but they did not kill. Indeed! They did a rather thorough job.

“Hmmm!” he said pleasantly in sleepy enjoyment. “That feels good! It’s nice to know a drider has at least some uses.”

Ronthiel pretended to fall asleep and, when he did, her fingers ceased their work. He still feigned sleep until he heard her own breathing in sleep. Once he was sure she was sound asleep, he began to gently whisper in her ear and she gradually began to smile in pleasant enjoyment and, though sound asleep, her hand reached out to hold his.

They took the boy to live in a young drow girl’s home whose nickname in the elfin tongue meant Quicksilver, for her hair was silver and her laughter quick. She found the boy’s sarcastic humor appealing and laughed often at his every witty remark, understanding them all. It was pleasant to find his jokes not wasted, as they were on the Light Elves. For satyrs have funny and insightful comments on just about everything if you don’t object to a critical wit as Light Elves do.

Like all drow women, she was relatively big and strong, Ronthiel’s size anyway, though not quite as big as Leradien. Unlike Leradien though, whose black blood further enhanced her in every possible physical way, she did not match the boy in either size or strength and, as a result, she found his superior and handsome form impressive and the boy was not above showing his muscles off to her. He found her attentions quite enjoyable and he repaid her in kind as only a satyr can do, telling her the only other drow girl he knew, Leradien, whom he omitted was a drider, had always been the most beautiful woman he imagined to have ever lived or ever would live but, in her, Quicksilver, Leradien had more than met her match. He said he’d never seen eyes so deep that a man could drown in them as hers before and how they seemed to see right through him and into his very soul. So he didn’t dare lie to her or she’d know it for sure if he did. And he said he’d never heard of drow being nice but she was as sweet as huckleberry in spring and her silvery hair just proved the richness of her personality underneath and he wanted to know if she was of royalty to be so high born amongst everyone else. And– Oh! –How her eyes did shine to hear that! But she didn’t take it the way other girls do who get all shy and submissive. Instead, Quicksilver was just the opposite. She became bold and aggressive and shoved him down and challenged him to wrestle, which they did, and it was a great time. In the end, the satyr won, but he wasn’t sure if she hadn’t let him, for she was quicker than him and quite skillful, though not as strong.

And maybe he should have lost? What would have happened then?

Her home, like all drow homes, was made from hollowed-out stalagmite with the entry door on the main floor. A spiral staircase led to the higher levels, not unlike the hollowed-out trees of the Light Elves, and with four high windows at its highest point placed in all directions too and for the same view. Although, for the drow, their purpose was to detect any lurking, sneaking enemies outside. The inner stone walls were highly decorated, the same as Light Elf houses, and the boy might have felt right at home if it wasn’t so frigging dark inside. The drow seldom used light brighter than a single candle to light their whole houses and, more than once, the boy either walked into a wall or tripped over furniture.

Her family was friendly and the woman of the house treated her smaller husband with respect so long as outsiders did not witness it. In addition, they had three slaves for outward appearances, since to not keep slaves would arouse suspicion that they were not followers of Lolth. Yet they treated their slaves quite kindly, unlike the cruel followers of Lolth who brutalized theirs.

Despite of his heaped on compliments, whether or not the girl was actually pretty he could not tell, because of the gloomy dark and her own dark skin. Still, he liked to imagine she was. About all he made out were her eyes, and they were just drow scary. But she was pleasant and kind and he learned much about drow from her. He discovered they lived much like foreigners to one another. To cheat, rob, or kill your neighbor was an accepted practice and was the usual method of not only advancement but of exacting revenge. As a result, although drow could live in theory as long as 800-900 years, almost none exceeded 500 years before they were murdered. Some drow were also fairly wise and well educated though and so, like Quicksilver and her family, desired to escape from this place to the surface. These drow rejected Lolth as their keeper and either followed Vhaeraun or, like the Black Dragons, Eilistraee.

The boy liked Quicksilver well enough but had no desire to meet any others; for most everything she told him about drow was either frightening or worse than frightening. They were murderers all. But he always enjoyed her, played his flute for her, taught her songs and made her laugh, which was always easy to do. He told her about the surface; about the trees and birds and flowers, the moon, and the sunsets. And she’d ask him the things he’d done, and the boy told them all down to the finest detail whether they happened or not. The boy’s silver tongue worked its magic, weaving a tapestry of tall tales that painted him as a swashbuckling hero, capturing Quicksilver’s imagination like a butterfly caught in a gilded net.

He spent the next day with Quicksilver and discovered then he would not be allowed to visit Leradien, for none of the company were allowed to visit one another, as the capture of one could lead to the capture of them all. So he asked her to see Leradien for him and explain why he had broken his promise to come to see her but, when the girl learned Leradien was a drider, she refused to go. Worse, she became upset that, when he was telling her how beautiful she was, he had dared compare her to a drider.

But the boy’s silver tongue once again talked his way out of it and one of their servants confirmed Leradien was, indeed, stunningly beautiful and so he was back in Quicksilver’s good graces again and she was now completely inclined to believe him which to the satyr was just absolutely grand when no one else would.

It amazed her to learn he was a pirate and leader of a gang, the descendent of a race of kings, had buried treasures galore, and was enthralled that he robbed from the rich and gave to the poor and it sounded so grand and noble. When she asked what drow cities he had captured he said none yet, as he hadn’t found one big enough to be worth his time. But, once he did, he’d plunder it of all its valuables, free the slaves, and ransom the evildoers. He had a secret plan for even Lolth’s capture but didn’t dare share it, as every member of the gang, himself included, had sworn an oath under penalty of death not to tell. He told more lies about himself than he’d ever told in his entire life and she swallowed them all. They got along grand!

Finally, on the agreed upon day, he was taken to the steeder barn, not knowing what he would find. He remembered the look in Leradien’s eyes the night she thought he’d been killed, remembered her fear of being chained, and that he had failed to keep his promise now to visit her. He braced himself for her inevitable madness as he now opened the barn door…