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aspiringfictionwriter · 8 months

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A Light in the Darkness: Chapter Thirty Two

Check out my side blog @alightinthedarkness1 for all chapters!

Warnings: Mentions of prostitution (consuming), mentions of drinking (responsibly), (please notify if these need to be changed)

School has officially started, and we officially have seven more weeks of this before we're done!

Next chapter will be posted on Wednesday as per the usual.

“Dearest E,

I am troubled by what you’ve told me about your newfound drow friend, either for its implications of what may be happening below us or perhaps what isn’t happening, only time will tell. And I apologize for the formality of this letter, but we all know what may be at stake for the Greenwald, and I’m certain we will trade many more letters before this ordeal is over, perhaps with a less stoic undertone.

As you know, I have informants everywhere you can turn, and the Underdark of Faerun is not shy from my influence, and I may be able to shed more light upon your Arachne. That is, of course, if she is the daughter of the First House of the city of Abburth. And before you go freaking out, because I’m sure you will, it’s not simply because of my own ‘wily wily ways,’ as you like to eloquently put it, it’s because of a man named Black’s own ways.

Allegedly, he runs the biggest crime syndicate of the entire city, and aided one Arachne Coborial in her escape from the Underdark, and apparently feels some sort of personal responsibility for her, although he never specified it. He heard of me from my dealings with the drow in my last visit to the continent, and decided to send one of his operatives through hell to get the information he wanted. Which I couldn’t offer. This would be strange, though, because he contacted me seventeen years ago.

Within the contents of this letter are instructions and gold for a woman that owes me a favor, her name is Ryleigh, and she will offer our Arachne lodgings, transportation, instruments, and a dress for her. We’re lucky this is a masquerade, otherwise we may not have been able to pull this stunt.

On a happier note, I’m bringing Erky with me. It’ll be his first party, of many if I’m perfectly honest, he’s doing well for himself despite how shy he is. He published his first paper on divination last year, and it was received well by Greyhaven Academy, who want him to join their student body when I deem him ready, and I have no doubt that he’ll start teaching there once he makes some sort of intellectual breakthrough. If Arachne does pique my interest, I’m sure the two of them could benefit from a friend.

But do me a favor and don’t tell her about me, much less that I’m an elf. I’d rather not start with bad blood based solely on our religions and history a millennia past. I’m sure you understand.

Much love,

M.C.”

Arachne took a deep breath as she lay her head against the firm pillow below her head as she woke from her slumber at the prodding of her temporary roommate, air filling her lungs at an almost immediate pace from the vigor of which she was shook by the crimson hands of the Art’s Paradise’s captain. Jolting her body upwards from the sudden physical interaction, the drow elf smiled softly at the wild-eyed tiefling who still wore her everlasting smile.

Ezili’s ebony hair was down and in an absolute mess, for each strand was going every which-way, each pertaining their own direction and keeping their own free will, slightly maneuvering from their original position each time she ever slightly moved her head. Her eyes were dewy, indicating a well-rested person was at hand, and at the very moment the drow elf woke, she jumped back to her feet from a crouching and grinned even wider, sharp, serrated, pearly teeth glistening at the light of the sun.

She was already dressed and had laid out the cloak she was offering to her, and from her enthusiasm, Arachne remembered mirthly that today was the day that they docked in the Greenwald’s chief city, Greyhaven, where she would find her prophesied salvation and safety in the arms of whoever Eilistraee had sent to her. Reaching her hands out for Ezili to take hold of, she too reached her feet and slipped on her slowly deteriorating plane and loose white shirt, that she had worn since the massacre, over her undershirt.

“Ohoo!” Ezili jeered excitedly as she twirled around the room grabbing all the things pertaining some importance to the function of the ship, and others not, such as her peculiarly floppy hat with a feather lodged in the side, “Glad to see I’m not the only one ready to dock!” The tiefling slung her crossbody bag across herself rather recklessly before tossing Arachne its twin, in that sense it looked almost identical to the captain’s own in shape, size, color, and, strangely enough, the fragrance. “I’ve got something to share with ya in private before we head out, ‘kay?”

Arachne furrowed her brows in representation of playful curiosity, keenly bolstering her own bag near and above her head before allowing it to rest gently against the side of her nape as the strap came down from across her before it lay dormant beside her hip. In the act of doing this, the drow elf realized that there was some weight to the bag itself, indicating that there were objects inside, and, reaching to open the flap as she replied to Ezili’s question, she felt a hand stop her.

“...and what’s in there is what I wanna talk about.”

She relinquished her grasp from the flap of the bag itself before looking back up at Ezili with skeptical lavender eyes that were swimming with trust and unease, an oxymoron if one thinks of it now, no? Arachne opened her mouth to speak, noticing her own companion’s agitation, and, despite her own dismay at the sudden change in demeanor, she decided to keep a cool head, this being reflected by the tone of her own voice. “Go on.” The drow sat herself down on a sitting chair that was resting in the very far left corner of the room, out of the way in case of a sudden jolt by the waves or something to that effect, “I’m listening.”

Ezili sat herself down as well, recovering her own smile as her voice returned to its chipper state, but something still seemed slightly off about how she was acting, and Arachne knew not if it was because of the information she was meant to relay, or if it was for some other purpose. “I got you a gig, like I said I would, and it’s in the royal court for the King and Queen’s anniversary.” Ezili watched as she reoriented herself in her chair, fingers clasping together in wariness, “Big deal for a first gig, I know, but it’s a masquerade, so you’ll all be wearin’ masks the entire time. All you gotta do is perform, do well, keep your mask on, and it’s all good and done, right?”

She paused, taking in for a moment the very fact that she would be playing in front of nobles, who were the most scrutinizing and particular beings in the entire world, and Arachne, an amateur musician at best, couldn’t even speak common, and as such would be forced to sing exclusively in elvish. And as beautiful as it was, it could easily be overlooked as something bothersome when one reached a certain point of hearing it in song, but she had other questions to ask besides that.

“I have so many questions about all of this, like how did you manage to sign me up to be a minstrel for the King and Queen of Greyhaven? Why did you even do it? And, although I may be stupid for asking, what is a masquerade, and how would I get an outfit suitable for such an event?” Arachne sunk further into her chair as she sighed, watching as Ezili shifted the weight on her own bed as she reoriented herself on the cushion uncomfortably.

The sailor began, “So I had you get in the palace so that you could get some gold right off the get-go. I can’t stand thinkin’ about anyone I know being homeless, and once you’ve got enough reputable music goin’ for ya, it’ll be easy to buy a house without anyone thinking much about who’s buyin’ it.” Ezili stood up and propped up Arachne’s own crossbody bag on the armrest of the chair she was sitting on, discarding the flap and pulling out an envelope, holding it with two fingers. “This is a letter to a woman named Ryleigh, and she’ll have you stay at hers until you get situated, and’ll get you instruments and your outfit. A masquerade is a ball where everyone wears these funky-looking masks, so no one’ll be able to tell you’re a drow.”

Arachne took a deep breath to recenter herself, taking the letter from Ezili’s hands when she offered it to her and returning it to her bag before she took a peek inside, and she was met with a bag full of packaged rations, a rolled up cot, and other necessities, as well as a replacement waterskin and a change of clothes. The drow elf returned her gaze to the tiefling before standing up, “Alright then. I suppose I could offer my talents to these nobles. I trust you.”

Ezili cheered, a wide smile returning to her face and illuminating it once more as she hopped back up from her bed and left flying out the door and towards the helm so as to keep a proper eye on the crew. A ghost of a smile lined Arachne’s lips for a brief moment before she followed behind her tiefling compatriot, pulling her hood up so as to avoid as much exposure to the sun as possible, as well as to shroud her eyes from its rays so as to not lose herself or her resolve.

The drow elf also attempted to hide her body from the sun as well, seeing as the burning she felt when she was first exposed to the ball of life was something surfacers called ‘sunburn,’ due to the fact that the heat of the sun was so strong that it burnt your flesh. For them, it only occurred on painfully hot days, but to Arachne, who was not used to the powerful warmth that emanated from the sun, her skin would burn even in their cold seasons (Ezili called it winter) if she was out for too long. Frankly, she had no clue if that would ever be remedied.

Closing the door from behind her, Arachne heard the bustle of the crew and passengers as they laughed and cheered, smiles from ear to ear as they all did their work or conversated amongst themselves. Even Harpoon seemed to be in a more chipper mood, if that was even possible to tell on a specimen such as him. He was a miniature dragon with a temper of a full-sized dragon and the inexpressiveness of Matron Aunerae, which was almost funny to think about when you looked at his owner and how happy she was.

Even then, as the Greenwald soon came into sight, reality hit her. She was finally free.

The streets of Greyhaven, the capital city of the Greenwald, were bustling from the sudden influx of sailors preparing themselves to begin a rambunctious celebration of reaching land, as well as the groups of travelers that had paid to travel on the Art’s Paradise so as to reach this destination, and perhaps also they were busy just from normal work, for some mothers did seem a bit offset as they watched their children suddenly stop in their tracks to witness the newcomers come out of the cyclopean boat.

Arachne and Ezili were the last to alight the ramp from the ship to the docks, the drow elf keeping her hood up as she felt eyes peering at her with anticipation or confusion, for her looming figure seemed slightly intimidating, simply for the fact that she hid her face in a shroud of shadow, and for the fact that she had called upon her forceful presence from long ago to scare off anyone unwelcome or unkind. It pained her to do so in such a place where she was meant to no longer be hiding in, but as was the way of things for a drow on the surface.

To drown out the foreign noise that those from the Art’s Paradise caused in the docks, it could be easily told to many that the district they had landed in was already quite the loud one, for each person seemed to be making their own noise to overlap the ship’s crew. Children smiled and frolicked amongst themselves with joy spilling from their mouths like a sympathy, a sound that Arachne could listen to forever if she had the choice, for it was those noises that proved the surface was a better place. The one thing she had to play with as a child was weapons, for the drow’s idea of fun was murder and battle.

Even parents spoke to each other as if they were content with the other, for there was no evidence of the woman beating the man, or vice versa, and it seemed as if they lived in perfect harmony with each other. It seemed as though the women didn’t even work, for their husbands walked off from their homes with fishing nets after a brief kiss farewell, and the woman either returned to the comforts of home or to the children she was responsible for. It seemed to Arachne that the females in this world were focused on their homes more than they were power.

Exiting the docks was when everyone seemed to split apart from the main group, for some of the sailors made their way to a large house on the side of a street that smelled of ale and broken dreams, while others went to a building with erotically dressed women sitting at the front before they sauntered in with pride in their stride. Ezili seemed to have disappeared with one end of her crew, Arachne’s wasn’t sure which, but it left her in solitude on the streets, where she stood for a moment in the center of the street, pulling a map from her bag before looking at it with scrutinizing eyes before she pinpointed her path to the merchant’s quarter.

Beginning to pick up her stride again, the drow elf felt a slight tug on her cloak, gentle and uncertain, which caused her to wheel her head around with a little too much vigor before her eyes were met with a small boy’s. He was human, the roundness of his ears proved that much, and his face was quite dirty, a grotesque mix of running snot and mud making itself prominent on his features; even still he had a smile on his face as wide as the parting sea.

The child opened his mouth for a moment and began speaking to her in words that she couldn’t understand– he was speaking far too fast for her liking– and as such she only picked up some of what he was saying. “I want,” he began, and then said a string of words, or a word Arachne did not know, “with me!” He said the last word with such joy that the drow elf felt a smile tease at her lips as she opened them.

She did so unsurely, and she even felt her accent poking through in her broken speech, and although it made her a bit bashful, she allowed it to, recalling what Ezili had said about them. “My, er, common bad. I no understand much.” She stuttered, watching as the boy’s brown eyes melted into little balls of sympathy, “Show me?”

The boy nodded, grabbing her gloved hand and taking her down the streets and running at what would be considered fast for a boy her age, although a grown woman such as her would only need to jog to keep up with his pace, and she did so, holding onto her hood with her free hand as she felt the air pierce against her skin, the overwhelming smell of fish overcoming her nostrils as they ran.

The child giggled happily as they made their way through the streets, and, almost as if it was infectious, Arachne joined along in a deep laugh she had not felt slip from her since Amalica had passed away, and she was reminded also of how she desperately longed for these moments with Durdyn. To run with the wind against her face as she aided him in becoming an adult, watching over him in an environment he was permitted to thrive in.

Part of these fantasies, something she knew she would never obtain, was that the rest of the Coborial family was there as well, laughing and smiling. Even Bemril and what she imagined Cazna to be were there, holding each other around the shoulders with wide grins on their faces as they watched their younger siblings play. Chadra would be testing out a new elixir, nothing deadly as the real one did, but something to aid an ailment or the plants growing. Xarann would be reading whilst watching them mess around, and even Matron Aunerae, or in this dreamscape, mother, would be watching them with a protective glint in her eyes that shone with compassion and not selfishness, with K’yornl, or father, resting his head in her lap.

If only the family hadn’t been tainted, perhaps those memories could have existed.

And then the boy stopped, and in turn ended Arachne’s daydreaming, and, with one dirty and chubby finger, he pointed towards a small house, before muttering, “Mine.” Taking hold of her wrist again, he took her to the front of the home itself before sitting her down on the pavement in front of it, grabbing something from underneath a horribly withered bush.

It was a small wooden box that appeared to be nothing special, and, as the boy opened it, Arachne soon realized that it held his toys, which were bits and bobs that were sewn or nailed together to create makeshift toys for him to fiddle around with. A spark of envy shot through her for a moment, wishing that she had toys when she had been his age to spend her time playing with, wishing that the only reason she had ever began to read the surplus of books she had read hadn’t been because she was bored and didn’t wish to go train for battle like she should have. However, his intentions became clear; he wanted her to play with him.

He said the strange word again, “with me?” he finished.

The strange word had to have meant ‘play,’ then, shouldn’t it? To this, Arachne took his hands and held them in her own gloved ones, her face still shrouded with shadow. “Yes.”

The boy seemed to jump out of his socks at the reply, and, very swiftly, he handed Arachne a stuffed bunny to hold as he took a wooden warrior from his box and exclaimed while pointing at his contraption, “Hero!” before continuing by pointing at hers and saying, “Villain!”

The drow held back a sigh before she nodded, laughing maniacally as she hopped her bunny around, pretending to will the adorable stitched together animal to be malicious, even if that didn’t seem possible. “I villain! I stop hero!” she exclaimed as the boy began to move his toy around and began to speak in both words and overexaggerated sound effects.

“Never!” He cried, giggling as he grabbed her bunny gently as he began to tackle her to the ground, causing Arachne’s body to have a sudden reaction to the touch, pushing him away with fear swimming in her eyes as she pushed herself back with her feet, only to realize that in the process of her attempting to break free, her hood had come off.

Looking at the boy with wide violet eyes, she saw in his face fear dotting the lines of his face as Arachne rushed herself up to her feet before he heard him mutter something underneath his breath, and, for some reason, she knew not why, something in that action triggered her fight or flight response, and she ran from the boy.

Ducking into an alleyway, the drow elf pulled her hood up as she continued running through the streets out of sight from the main ones, hidden and out of sight, even as she heard the boy attempting to chase after her in desperate pursuit, calling her a name she knew the meaning of, but had simply forgotten at the time, but even still Arachne kept running. She was a monster to him, and no doubt one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen, and why would he be chasing her if not to find the guard to capture her?

Seeing a door from up ahead in a house painted in light blue, Arachne flung herself towards it, opening it with the remaining adrenaline she could muster before she shut it with shocking force, sliding herself down against it. She was safe.

Not before she heard a voice in elvish call, “Arachne Coborial, is that you?”

______________________

Isn't it scary to think that we only have seven more chapters before this is over unless something changes? Thanks so much for your ongoing support!

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alightinthedarkness1 · 8 months