The Last Satyr: The Two Paths Part 2

"State your business, magician," the drow woman commanded, hand on her knife.

“Killing we do not seek,” said Graybeard. “Rescuing we do.”

Shinayne arched a wary eyebrow at this suggestion. “May I ask who is to be rescued?”

“The satyrs at Ched Nasad,” answered the old keeper.

Her dark manner changed to surprise, her eyes flickering over the group, and then back to Graybeard with interest.

“A noble cause,” she admitted, “What’s your offer for their rescue?”

“Passage back with us to the surface and Moon City.”

There was a pause between them.

“I believe,” added Kreel for the woman's benefit, “that our goddess would approve of our rescuing the satyrs.”

“I’m certain she would.” Shinayne thoughtfully agreed. “Indeed! She would order it. And for passage to Moon City, it is an order we would gladly obey. Yet the danger is great. How would you get us to Moon City?”

“I would have Kreel arm the satyrs once you free them,” replied Graybeard. “Then we will add them to our force, and fight our way back to the surface. Since all satyrs are men, all of them can fight.”

“It is hard to imagine satyrs fighting,” she said, obviously aware of their reputation for being lazy wine drinkers and pursuers of women. “Yet I have heard of the Second War and how they acquitted themselves well.”

“They shall do so again to end their slavery and breathe the fresh air of the sun once more,” vowed Graybeard.

“Can you arm them?” the woman asked Kreel.

Kreel examined the short spear of the boy. He gave it a few testing jabs, each thrust calculated and precise, and saw how it could outreach a sword. The armorer noticed its balance and twirled the spear between his fingers, the metal glinting as it spun. The short spear seemed to dance in his grip, responding to the subtle shifts in his wrist. With a final, swift flourish, he brought the weapon to a stop, the point aimed purposefully at the ground.

“I can produce these—yes,” he answered, admiring it. “No doubt such a weapon has slain many foes.”

“In return, can you get us to the surface afterward?” asked Shinayne of Graybeard.

“Easier than your freeing the satyrs,” he replied.

Shinayne considered that. “Ours shall not be easy. Our Black Dragon warriors only number a little over two hundred. But the House of Jaezred Chaulssin at Ched Nasad is also limited,” she added, “Theirs is but a house of thieves and assassins. They attack expertly by stealth but they do not defend well at all. We can defeat them. Yet it is not them we fear but what happens afterward. Vhaeraun shall send his army of half-man-orcs after us—even into the light of the surface.”

“There the satyrs shall fight them for you. It will allow you to safely withdraw behind them once we reach the surface,” assured Graybeard.

“That is a retreat worthy of the Jaezred Chaulssin, but not of the Black Dragons. If we free the satyrs, we shall not abandon them to defend our rear,” she informed him.

“Does that mean you’ll free them?”

“It does. But we will need your help.”

“And how is that?”

“You must deal with Lolth,” said Shinayne. “We cannot hope to defeat her and Vhaeraun both combined. She commands armies far beyond your comprehension.”

“You think Lolth will want Vhaeraun's satyrs?”

“No," she told the old keeper. “She'll want you.”

The boy noticed Graybeard did not disagree. It meant Lolth would come, a thought that hung in the air like so much dread. The prospect of facing Lolth’s armies again head-on was like a looming mountain, casting its shadow over the boy and their plans and challenging their every step.

“What enemies does she have that might join us?” Graybeard inquired of any allies.

“Just Vhaeraun and, since we’ll be attacking him, he will not join with us,” she informed him in reply. “I’m afraid it will only be the seven of you against her and all her hordes. Agree to that and we agree to accept freeing the satyrs.”

“Done!” said Graybeard.

What did he mean, ‘done’? The boy was alarmed. The seven of them against Lolth’s entire army was sheer madness!

“We shall hide you in this city while we secretly prepare,” the drow woman went on. “There is much to be done; weapons cast, armor made, food packed, and households made ready to move—and we must do it all in secret. It will not be easy and it will not be fast. These things take time.”

“We shall not stay long,” replied the old keeper. “I shall advise the boy here that we return to Orlytlar at once. There we shall engage the enemy that they might not move against you.”

“In that, I wish you success,” she said, “for our lives and those of your satyrs depend upon it. Her armies would wash us away like water on sand.”

“Then we shall turn that sand to hard rock,” vowed Marroh the dwarf.

Shinayne turned her eyes down at last upon the dwarf.

“So your company can speak?” she noted. “It is no surprise the dwarf speaks first. The enmity between dwarves and drow is long. Yet I assure you that we Black Dragons have never raised a hand against your people. Our goddess keeper preaches otherwise.”

“I have heard of such drow,” Marroh answered. “Unfortunately, your kind number far too few.”

The woman did not disagree.

“Are you really mercenaries?” the boy asked her.

“Not really,” she answered with a smile and a light laugh that he believed that. “But we must pretend to be to outsiders for our skill as warriors is well known. Anyone claiming to be a mercenary is only expected to be a follower of Lolth’s and so we pretend to be such.”

Clever of her, the boy decided.

“And what of this one?” Shinayne asked of Leradien, her eyes now finding her. “A drider that is not yet insane? Or is your madness, like the terrorantulas, not so obvious?”

Shinayne's expression now changed too as she focused on Leradien more closely, as if finding her somehow different.

“And how are you so utterly beautiful?” she desired to know. “Our own goddess would envy you! So lovely and commanding—and yet so very frightening. You are big even by a drider’s standards. I doubt any drider could ever match your deadly appearance or your stunning beauty. I should think even Lolth would fear you. Yet you are not drow. You are something else. Speak! What manner of creature are you? Why is your skin not dark? And how is it you seem to be the very image of Lolth herself?”

“My father is a drow,” said Leradien. “My mother is a Light Elf.”

“Ah! Yes,” Shinayne understood. “I can see you have the light skin of your mother. So you are half-drow? But what of your madness? How close does it boil beneath?”

“It is much easier for a Dark Elf to feel rejected by drow than a Light Elf,” answered Leradien, accepting all the woman’s compliments. “I am satisfied.”

“Then you have the nature of a Light Elf?”

Leradien declined to answer, instead haughtily and defiantly returning the drow woman’s gaze. Yet the woman saw enough in it.

“You keep your sanity by a single thread,” Shinayne observed of her. “I can see it in your eyes. Your haughty defiance does not hide it, though you try. If that thread breaks,” she warned the others. “I fear for all. And she shall not keep it long either. I have seen driders before. But this one,” she added specifically for Graybeard to hear, “is certainly no ordinary drider.”

“How do you know that?” asked Graybeard, who had said the same of her.

“She bears the mark of Lolth.”

Leradien grew visibly resentful to hear that but kept her words and opinion to herself.

Shinayne now shifted her attention from her and to the others.

“So why are there these two humans amongst you?” she asked young Joe and Amien. “And how is it that all are mere boys but this one?”

“We joined out of loyalty,” said Amien in answer. “I to the elves and young Joe to the satyr.”

“What loyalty do men have to elves?”

“We once fought side by side,” said Amien. “If they should need my sword again, I shall gladly offer it.”

“Even if that favor goes unreturned?” asked Shinayne.

“Even if it goes unreturned,” admitted Amien with a nod.

She studied him. “I like you, human,” she said. “You keep the pledge of your forefathers, long-dead though they may be. You are a fine example of men, even in appearance—tall, dark, and handsome, and you are noble and daring and in the prime of life. If ever I were to ever desire to get to know a human, it should be you. It would honor me if you would stay at my home as my guest.”

Amien gave a slight bow of agreement. “The honor is mine,” he said.

“We shall divide you all into six different Black Dragon households,” Shinayne told them of her decision. “That shall minimize the chances of all of you being captured. Graybeard, you shall stay in the house of Kreel that he might fully carry out all your wishes to arm the satyrs.”

“Thank you,” said Graybeard. “But you said you would divide us into six households. There are seven of us.”

“The drider shall not be so divided. We shall keep her here in chains until you leave,” decided the drow woman.

“No one chains me!” defied Leradien.

“It’s not up for debate,” Shinayne countered sharply.

“I won’t allow it,” Leradien vowed.

“Then you’ll face the consequences,” Shinayne warned.

“Try it,” Leradien challenged.

The boy jumped between them as the drider tossed her magnificent white mane, her eyes narrowing. "Leradien! You can't start a fight. We're amongst friends!"

Yet Leradien was adamant, ready to fight.

"Please?" the boy pleaded.

“We do not do so because we loathe you as other drow do,” Shinayne told her. “To us, you are like a beautiful rose living in a forbidden garden of thorns. We know what you are - an exquisite paradox of beauty and imminent danger that both intrigues and warns. Instead, we fear for your sanity. If your mind should snap, you might turn us all in for the reward of having Lolth lift your curse.”

“Lolth cannot lift it and it is not a curse!” Leradien insisted.

Yes, Leradien believed that all right. The boy looked to see whether Shinayne believed her or not.

Her answer was swift. “You may think that now, but when the loneliness overwhelms you, you will change your mind. All driders do. As I said, you hang onto your sanity by a single thread—and that thread is very slender. We cannot trust you to remain sane.” On this, Shinayne was just as adamant.

“No one chains me!” repeated Leradien again in warning.

“Why? Because you fear the loneliness that would follow? And that it will drive you mad? Then you know that is why we must chain you. We cannot leave you free to roam around the city,” answered the woman. “That means we must chain you here.”

The boy could see Leradien remained unswayed. She would not let them chain her. Her objection was not just in her words but in her body's tension. Her eight long legs readied themselves as potent spears and the glow of her eyes intensified, reflecting a fierce determination that burned like an unyielding flame. Like a caged or cornered serpent, she stood ready to fight anyone who dared chain her. Her vehement objection and willingness to defend her freedom and sanity flowed through her like a wild, untamed river rebelling against the constraints of its banks, and it was about to overflow.

The boy could see she meant a fight to the death and he could not allow that.

“Oh! Please, Leradien,” he begged of her. “Do it for me! They mean no harm, and I promise I shall come to visit you every day. You know I will!”

“If anything should drive me mad,” replied Leradien with a shake of her head. “It would be being chained! I give my word to this woman I shall not leave this barn!”

“You are half-drow,” said the woman. “What is a promise of your word to a drow? Besides! Leaving you alone here is the same as being chained. The loneliness is still the same.”

“Leradien always keeps her promises to me,” the boy pleadingly told her. “I have known her a long time. She lives alone on the surface in her cave.”

“She may keep her promises to you, but what about to me?” answered Shinayne. “Leaving her loose and unguarded in a city loyal to Lolth is not good planning and the Black Dragons are not known for poor planning or for trusting demon-possessed driders.”

“We are guests of Shinayne’s,” offered Graybeard in interruption to all. “As such, each of us must accept whatever hospitality she offers and that includes you too, Leradien. For, if the ruling house of this city arrests you, I doubt the chains they should put on you would ever come off.”

“It is unfair that I am the only one chained!” she countered. “I am no less worthy of trust than you!”

“I’ll volunteer to be chained with you!” said the boy.

“No!” declared Leradien. “I shall not have you made a prisoner on my behalf! It is bad enough that I cannot protect you. If they chained you too, you would be twice as helpless.”

“Then I shall volunteer,” announced an unexpected source.

Caught off guard, all heads turned in stunned surprise to see who spoke.