Read This First

This blog was dated in reverse order so that readers may enjoy it in a proper order, so pay no attention to the dates, they are meaningless :)

Read the following page first:
http://aheartinhell.blogspot.com/p/overviewsummaryoutline.html



I HAVE TAKEN SUGGESTIONS...And Moved This To DeviantArt As well!

Prologue

“Quiet your mind, steady, and carefully,” he commanded as he focused his mental powers into the mind of the young child. She was just eight years old but already Kimmuriel found her potential impressive, even by his highly placed standards.

In the beginning he had been reluctant to accept her into his training and his care. Kimmuriel had his own studies to resume and already felt the burden that maintaining and running Bregan D'aerthe had placed on him.

Jarlaxle had very cleverly coaxed him into taking the child, assuring him she would be worth his efforts; worth his while. Kimmuriel was disgusted with himself for allowing Jarlaxle to, yet again, convince him otherwise. Apparently even a psion as great as Kimmuriel was not above Jarlaxle’s persuasions. 

“Focus your intent on the object, think strongly on what you want it to do,” he commanded again, this time even more sternly in heavy drow language.

Her mind wandered and she found it hard to concentrate intently on the silver mirror lying on the table between Master Kimmuriel and herself. She could feel the tingling sensation of Kimmuriel’s psionic energy and coupled with her own it was annoyingly painful, like a muscle spasm only in her head. He made it clear to her that the more she exercised her abilities the less painful it would be.

Refocusing her mind was taking all the mental effort she could muster. She was now fighting back the tears that threatened to drown her eyes. She simply could not allow herself to cry in Kimmuriel’s presence. He did not take kindly to any show of emotion. He reprimanded her often simply for smiling or giggling. But crying in Kimmuriel’s presence merited a much worse punishment. Kimmuriel despised crying.

She managed only to budge the mirror slightly in Kimmuriel’s direction, not sufficient enough. The tears began streaming down her cheeks and her little body trembled in a desperate attempt against making any noises that remotely sounded like crying. She knew she was doomed.

Kimmuriel’s expression was always the same; cold and blank. There was no hint of life in his crimson eyes. His lips rarely cracked a smile and he was always in control of himself, no temper or barely an emotional reaction even when the world around him was choatic and unpredictable.

His eyes locked with hers and though she could see no visible signs of his disappointment she knew he was. Her little hands grabbed the edge of the table as she braced for her punishment. A sudden blast of psionic energy exploded through her, leaving her frail little body quivering on the floor. Her mind went blank, her body limp, and the world around her was swallowed by blackness.

Kimmuriel stood over the pathetic little mass on the floor with no care or remorse for what he had just done to her. She would learn how to use her ability and he would be responsible for her training and molding her into perfection. She was special, if only Jarlaxle knew just how truly special she could be.

Chapter 1 Secrets in the Dark

His crimson eyes easily cut through the darkness, allowing him to sharply focus on the bizarre scene that was unfolding in the cavern directly below him. A stray thrall had ripped the throat out of its illithid master letting the wretched creature's lifeless form drop to its feet where another illithid body already lay. A young human child stood over that body pilfering it for trinkets and items of importance, she quickly moved onto the new body, nearly before it hit the ground.

The human child's ability to maneuver through the underdark was impressive. No ordinary human would have been able to negotiate through the pitch blackness with such ease. The drow scout estimated her to be around seven or eight years of age, and for a species of lesser intelligence her ability to survive beyond a day in the underdark was nothing short of a miracle.

He recognized the thrall from an illithid trading caravan he had witnessed in the lower tunnels a few days earlier. It was the only thrall of orc biology in the caravan. The child though, did not look familiar and he didn’t remember seeing any children amongst the captives. He carefully studied her and paid particular attention to the way the thrall moved, it was very apparent that it was not acting of its own accord. She had to be controlling it, but how?

The drow figured her to be wielding a magical device of some sort, one that was powerful enough to easily destroy two illithids. It made sense, but as much as he wanted to get a closer look, he felt he already allowed himself to get too close-dangerously close. His gaze fell onto the illithid bodies, as he wondered what this child could truly be capable of.

The drow shook his head at the notion of a human child besting a pair of illithids. There were few denizens of the underdark who dare challenge them. Most who did, found themselves on a slave chain awaiting their doom. It was the lucky ones that were traded to the drow where their torture would be less severe than what they would endure with the illithids-unless of course, they found themselves in the hands of one particular drow.

The scout thought of his own master and what he frequently did to the captives he acquired. He was known to regularly trade with illithids for human specimens along with other living specimens, drow included, furthering his own research and amusement. He inflicted such pain on his victims that most begged for his mercy and pleaded for a quick death.

He recalled the last time he witnessed his master removing a brain from a human who was fully awake and aware. There were a few times he heard the screams of drow females echoing throughout the caverns of the Bregan D'aerthe headquarters as they suffered the most  horrific and ritualistic torture. Mostly though, his master’s need for stimulation came from capturing illithids and what he did to them was utterly indescribable. Momentary chills ran the course of his spine as the scout realized a fate far worse than the one illithids could promise and it came at the hands of his own master.

He brought his attention back to the small human child. Horror gripped him as he watched her methodically remove the brains of both illithids. She jabbed some sort of sharp instrument in each of the brains and placed them in a pouch at her side. She motioned to the thrall who came obediently to her aide, picking up both bodies and heaving them into a large web strung across another opening to a tunnel behind them.

A large spider, eager for the free meal, quickly wrapped her dead victims in a cocoon of gossamer. The arachnid would have them well devoured before any illithid search party would come to reclaim their remains. But without their brains the scout wondered if the illithids would ever be able to know what happened to their counterparts. She was a clever little girl, very well trained indeed, but by whom?

He watched the thrall and the child make their way into a far cavern all the while slipping back into the blackness from where he was perched. He took comfort in thinking he could find some peace to slip into reverie before resuming his trek toward Luskan carrying with him ill news from his recent scouting expedition. His mind wandered restlessly, first about the news he was not looking forward to sharing with his master and secondly, images of that human child were causing him additional discomfort.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Valas, Valas Ozzl’Hune, wake up!” a soft childlike whisper stirred Valas from his reverie, “Valas wake up.” The  scout awoke abruptly noticing a tingling numbness in his limbs and head. A sudden rush of panic fell over him as he realized he was no longer alone. Instinctually he went to reach for one of his Kukris only to discover he could not move.

She was right there in front of him, that human child, staring at him with some sort of awkward amusement. Her head was slightly cocked to the left, up-close he could see how unkempt she was. Her dark hair was snarled and matted, framing her face were several strands of braided hair with strange glass beadwork woven in. She leaned in toward him which revealed two distinctly different colored eyes hiding behind her messy locks.

She moved even closer still, cocking her head oddly, bird-like, while reaching toward his face with her hand. She placed it gently on his cheek as she sat back on her heels studying him. She seemed intrigued by the paleness of her skin against the blackness of his own.

A soft smile crept across her face, he began to prepare himself for whatever assault was to come next. Her smile quickly faded swallowed by a look of deep sadness.  She suddenly pulled back from him, curling up against the rock slab wall of the cavern nook he had hidden himself in.

Valas, was still unable to move and couldn’t see where the thrall was, but already felt his survival instincts kicking in. He began strategizing possible ways he could escape however it was now obvious to him that she was not wielding any magic-it was worse than that. She was using psionic powers, the tingling sensations through his body and predominately in his head were a dead giveaway.

Valas understood how terribly unstable psionic energy could be when wielded by someone of little experience or one with emotional weaknesses. None of the magic trinkets he carried with him could harness the devastating effects of psionic energy. He kept his eyes focused on her waiting for her next move, but nothing happened. She sat with her back up against the wall, her head now hidden in her knees sobbing softly.  

“What do you want with me?” he questioned, shocked to hear his own voice. She hadn’t taken that ability from him which potentially left her vulnerable. A slight wave of relief washed over him, as Valas was a seasoned professional when it came to conning and deception. The ability played a pivotal role in his survival all these years in the underdark and he wasn't above manipulating a child, especially in these dire circumstances.

She looked up, directly at him, wiping her tears with her hands, which were so dirty, streaks of grime now marred her alabaster face. Her face held soft features with large eyes, a face that resonated a naive innoncence not common in creatures of the underdark. Innocent, however, she was not, no matter how sweet of a face she wore.

“I don’t want to hurt you, it’s not my intention, Valas Hune. I knew you were here in the darkness, I knew you saw me,” her voiced trailed off and as distant look haunted her eyes, “You can help me.”

“I can help you? How? Why?” The fact that the child knew who he was already had him wondering what she was up to. He was, after all, a drow, and from experience he knew to trust no one.

“You are going to the surface and that is where I must go. There are humans on the surface and I can be with them. That was where we were heading before the illithids came. You'll help me Valas, because you have a decent soul. I know this. You understand what it means to survive and the lengths one must go in order to do so.”

“I saw what you did earlier, you and your orc thrall, and you think I am going to take you and your friend to the surface? I think you are pretty capable of surviving on your own. You and the thrall killed two illithids with ease. What do you need with me and how can you expect me to trust you?”

Sadness consumed her face once again, “I didn’t mean to kill those illithids, I didn’t want to kill them, but they are bad. They were going to hurt me. The illithids want me dead. Dead the way they killed my father, when all we wanted to do was get to the surface. Please, you must take me to the surface. You can trust me, as long as you trust yourself not to hurt me. I'll swear an oath to any God you wish, please take me to the surface Valas, please.” She pleaded as tears welled up in her eyes again, her shoulders shuttered under the weight of the sorrow that was washing over her. 

They wanted her dead or did they want her dead? Valas carefully considered her statement, the choice of wording, and the possible implications of it before he prodded her with more questions. He was now just as curious as he was suspicious.

“Why were you and your father down here?” Valas asked with new found interest.

“We were k-k-kicked out of our h-home when I wa-was three,” she stammered between gasps of air, “my p-people said I was b-a-ad and they didn’t want someone like me a-a-round. They didn’t like what I can do, they said I was d-d-dangerous”

Her eyes went cold with her next statement, “They told my father if he didn’t allow them to kill me then he had to take me far away. He promised my mother before she died, that he would never let anyone harm me.”

Valas hesitated with his next question, not sure if he really and truely wanted to know the answer,“Exactly what is it you are able to do?" 

She brought her index finger up to her mouth to gently hush him, “That’s a secret, I cannot tell. Especially now after what has happened to me.”

The underdark was certainly as far away as any human could get. Her father, due to his daughter's inherit abilities, must have sought the help of the illithids and things didn’t work out as he hoped. She looked sickly, like she hadn’t eaten for days, her skin was alabaster white with a greenish tinge, due impart to all the filth covering her. Valas couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of pity for the girl.

“You can move now, I trust that you won’t hurt me.” she said with a hint of a threat laced in amongst her words.

She shot him a quick look that told him it was best he did not challenge her trust, “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to follow you to the surface. I know that is where you are going. Please take me there. Will you let me follow?”

Valas shook the numbness out of his arms and his legs, “If I say yes will your friend be coming along with us?”

His response rang loud in his head, where did it come from? The pit of Valas's stomache filled with despair at the realization he still wasn’t entirely in control of his own self. He had no intentions of letting this child follow him or go anywhere near him. Suddenly this realization was quickly dispelled by a deep rooted feeling of sympathy. The feeling, so foreign to Valas, that the intrigue of it stamped out any attempt he had in wanting to shake it from his very soul.

“He is useful, he can help us in case there is unforeseen danger on the way,” she said abruptly, she yawned, changing the subject, “I am tired now, I would like to sleep. Is it alright if I sleep here next to you?”

Before Valas could object she was fast asleep on the cold stone floor. He found it curious that he no longer felt threatened by her. That feeling was replaced with a deep seated understanding. He felt a warmth within him and a desire to stay by the girl while she slept. He couldn’t fathom why he was feeling this way or why he even cared, it was as though he was detached from himself –like he was outside of his own body looking down on this situation- completely and totally removed from his formal self.

The feeling was so alien and yet, so comfortable, that he leaned back against the stone, slid down into a restful position. Without anymore hesitation he found the peace he needed to slip back into a light reverie. As he drifted he could hear the heavy but rhythmic breathing of the thrall just outside the cavern nook, and he didn’t seem to mind at all-so unusual he thought to himself as the final grip of elven sleep crept over his body.

Chapter 2: Unlikely Travelers

They were just two days from the surface and the journey thus far had been without trouble. Valas considered himself fortunate as he still did not fully trust his young companion. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night she begged him to let her follow him to the surface. He was uneasy with the psionic power she had and still couldn’t fathom how he had allowed himself to be so easily convinced. She had a way about her.

She refused any meal he offered her during their breaks and didn’t answer any of his questions. She simply just shut herself off from him and was literally just along for the trip. The thrall stayed 20 paces back from them and would not approach either Valas or the girl during stops. There was no doubt in Valas’s mind that the girl purposely had the thrall following them from behind. He would have done the same if he were in her shoes.

The caverns were growing colder the closer they got to the surface. It was winter in Luskan and it was a bad one this year. Valas looked over his shoulder toward the girl. She wasn’t dressed for the colder climate of the surface and he could tell she was cold. He gently tapped a silver and black button on his vest and instantly a black cloak appeared in his hand. Stopping, he turned to face the girl, taking to one knee and pulling the cloak around her shoulders.

“It’s only going to get colder from here on out and you aren’t dressed appropriately for the nasty winter that has the surface in its grip.”

 “Thank you Valas, sir. I haven’t ever seen a winter before.” She cautiously admitted with a meek smile.

“Never? Not even when you were with your father?” he asked.

“No, not ever, nor have I ever seen, a summer, spring, or autumn. I have not seen any of the surface’s seasons.”

“I find it hard to believe that you, being human, have been down here your whole life? Child, your young, I am sure you must be confused, you probably don’t remember much.” Valas paused to look at her.

She could tell he was growing uneasy with her account of her past. Her abilities allowed her to remember everything from the time her heart first started beating in her mother's womb. Of course those memories are complicated and confusing and now she is able to recall them from a detached point of view. 


Valas was a nice drow, as nice as a drow could be. Though she knew in her heart his kindness toward her was an outcome of her own doing. She also knew he was fully aware of the effect she had on him, but as long as she could keep his trust he would see no reason to challenge the emotions she was projecting into him. She sensed that he wasn’t the type to attack without reason and she knew he was smart.

She also sensed a deep rooted loneliness at the core of his being. He found strength in his solitude and how he lived his life. He liked it so much so, he preferred it over company. He found peace in it. The life of a rogue scout suited him well.

The shadows-the nooks and crannies of the Underdark were  places where he found solace. There was an interesting story behind Valas and as she secretly scoured his mind, she found she liked his story. Suddenly, Valas scaled a wall up toward a hole in the tunnel. She noted how at home and in perfect harmony Valas was with his surroundings. 


"We will rest here," he declared as he threw a rope out and motioned for her to climb up. Grabbing the end, she anchored her first foot in a crevice and began her climb. The wall was cold, wet, and slick. She was finding it difficult to climb the wall even with the help of the rope.


Fear was growing in the pit of her stomach as she grew to understand the predicament she was in. Should she fall, Valas would be free from her emotional grip and who knew what he would do to her. They were close enough to the surface now, that she could find her own way, but fear of the foreign world had turned Valas necessity.  

“Valas, I’m, I’m slipping, and I can’t climb any further.  Help me, please, I am scared.” Her hands were wet and she couldn’t find her grip and her small fingers were quickly growing numb. Suddenly the wall fell away from her and the world around her whirled.


Valas, hearing the young girl's plea for help, was quick to react, reaching and grabbing her arm. The momentum of her fall combined with his sudden grip brought her face first into the rock wall. The thrall was also alerted to the girl’s situation and made a dash to help her. Valas began pulling her up into the cavern nook, her nose was bleeding, she had scratches on her fore arms, and tears were welling up in her eyes.

He handed her a piece of cloth for her nose, "You made quite a commotion, let us hope nothing lurking out there in the dark heard."

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through the cloth she held at her nose.

 

“Sorry?"  he sneered with a harsh sarcastic tone. “I usually do not succumb to such dire pangs of emotions. I know what you are doing to me and I can't seem to stop it. I can't completely focus under your spell and a lack of focus here in the Underdark, or above for that matter, is the difference between life and death!"


Valas met her gaze with cold eyes, "Our lives depend on my ability to protect us. Your mental, emotional, or whatever in the nine Hells they may be are endangering our lives.”

 

"Don't think I don't know this. But I am doing what I feel I need to do to ensure my survival, surely you can understand this Valas?" her eyes returned his glare with equal coldness and a dash of contempt.


"Besides, these abilities or whatever in the nine hells they may or may not be, have kept me alive down here. That speaks volumes of my capabilities. Me? Alive down here? A mere child and human no less! You don't want to deal with me under any other circumstance Valas, trust me!"


Valas knew the child was right and didn't challenge her any further. All he had to do was remind himself of two illithids who had obviously met their doom in her small hands, or head. She was obviously very capable of surviving which had him wondering why she even needed his help in the first place.

“For such a small child, and a human no less, you have an impressive understanding of the world around you. Your ability to survive as long as you have, has me baffled, and I am not about to question your abilities, trust me when I say that whatever it is you are capable of, I am terrified. I despise psions, I hate them!" Valas openly admitted, realizing he didn't mean to say the last sentiment of his outloud.


He studied her expression thinking she would be angry about his last omission but instead she wore a sorrowful expression.


"I hate them too," she replied, "I wish I could be different than what I am. If I was, I wouldn't be here now. If I was, things would have turned out differently."


Again, Valas found her statement intriguing and wanted to know more but knew it was probably in his best interest to not ask, besides their time together would be short. It was in his best interest to get her to release him from whatever it was she was doing to him.


"Child, please listen to me, your grip on my emotions is jeopardizing my ability to survive, I will not harm you, you have me word,” Valas pleaded.
The child hesitated briefly before replying, "I don’t trust that you would protect me should we encounter trouble and all I care about is getting to the surface. Once there, you are done with me, I promise.”

Valas let out a slight laugh, “Protect you? Child, you have your wretched illithid creation out there to protect you, I cannot fully control my actions with you in my head. I don’t like it one bit and I insist that you stop it at once."

She just looked at him with a blank expression. No response, nothing. In that instance she reminded him once again of his own master.


"Let me warn you that I do carry some very powerful magic items that could pose a challenge for you if you choose to press this issue with me.” he challenged. 

“The trinkets you wear on your vest will provide you no safety from my interference. They are not strong enough and I am sorry, but you are a drow. I cannot trust you anymore than I can trust an illithid, or any other creature of the Underdark for that matter. I have learned my lessons the hard way many times over and I will not make the same mistakes twice. So forgive me when I say I cannot release you.” explained the girl with an uncanny amusement that Valas found rather insulting and out of context.

"Again, you have my word." he made one final attempt at persuading her.

"A drow's word?" she asked coldly.

"Valas's word."

The child sat in silence, staring at him, thinking with a look of consternation plastered all over her face. She was definitely in the midst of a deep dialogue with herself, debating whether to listen to him or follow her gut. He hoped she would listen to him.

“Alright then, if I can’t convince you to trust me then the very least you could do is tell me your name."

The little girl locked eyes with him, “Laenaia, Laenaia Manaallin that is my name. My father simply just called me Lanie, for short,” she looked away from him, as if considering saying something more, then met his gaze again, “you may call my Lanie, too, if you wish.”

“Lanie it is then.” Valas whispered, sitting back and studying her. He carefully looked her over he wanted to figure her out, he wanted to know more about her. He studied her carefully noticing how unusual she was.

Valas didn't know why he hadn't paid much attention to her appearance before, but her features were strange for a human. She was lithe and very angular similar to an elven build but she was a far cry from being an elf. He had attributed her odd pale skin color to her being malnourished, but he now believed that her skin was actually very pale, like she hadn't seen the sun at all in her lifetime.

“We will be on the surface tomorrow. You should know that the surface really isn’t much different than down here. It is still a dangerous place, and being that you are only a child, I don’t know how you intend on managing all by yourself up there. Have you even considered what you are going to be confronted with tomorrow?”

This time she did not look at him, she sat knees folded against her chest playing with her fingers. “I’ll figure something out.”

The numbness in the back of his head subsided and he felt his senses come rushing back to him like the oxygen rushing back to a set of lungs stifled by momentary suffocation. She had let him go.

“There," she said, "I can let you go now, I know you won’t kill me, you haven’t any reason to and you are not the type to go out of your way to kill someone for no reason, Valas Hune. I can trust you... slightly.”     


Valas didn't know what to do or say. He was afraid to do anything really. He feared saying the wrong thing would land him right back in her grip but he needed to know more about her. Lanie was a curiousity and he couldn't help himself.


"I know you have psionic abilities but there is more to you than that isn't there?  Your a psychic empath too, aren't you?" he asked pointedly, "I know you have psionic abilities, given the way you were able to subdue me when we first met and judging by the way I found myself so emotionally entangled I assume you are able to project emotions? 
She crawled over toward him, "if you say so, I don't like talking about it" she said without confirming or denying his assessment of her.


He followed her stare down towards his magically enhance back bag where his Kukris were resting. She seemed oddly intrigued by something she saw there.

"What is that?" she pointed toward the edge of a book that was barely visible from one of Valas's bags.

"That would be a book."


"I can see that Valas, but a book about what?" she questioned, "I like books."


"Its a collection of very ancient stories about Corellon Larethian." Valas explained.

"The creator of the elves? Lanies eyes went wide with intrigue.


"Yes, the creatore of elves and it tells of the times before..." Valas's voice trailed off with a hint of remorse to his tone.


"The times before your people were banished to the world below." Lanie concluded with a stare that felt as though her eyes were burning into his very soul. In her presence he felt transparent but he didn't feel threatened by it in the way his own psionicist master made him feel.


"Will you read some of it?" she pleaded with a youthful eagerness.

Lanie moved slightly closer to him, and he did not object, Valas no longer felt her as a threat, even with his own senses fully intact. He felt a certain pity for the girl and took comfort in knowing this feeling was on his own terms. He took out the book and began reading, she listened intently for awhile before falling fast asleep. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Lanie, you best get your little rear end up.” Valas coaxed as he gave her feet a slight smack.

Lanie slowly sat up rubbing her eyes. She had fallen into a deep sleep and didn't even remember closing her eyes. Valas was leaning against the mouth of the crevice they had rested in. He was eating something and looking at her with a smile.

He handed her a small bowl of whatever it was, which to Lanie, looked like some sort of green goo. It didn’t smell very good either, but after turning Valas’s meals down during the previous days her hunger pangs had grown to a point she could no longer ignore.

“Go ahead child, take a bite, I know you need it. The grumblings and rumblings of your stomach while you slept sounded like the mating calls of rothe during breeding season!" Valas heartily. exclaimed.

She rolled her eyes at him and sat there staring at the bowl with contempt.

“Oh for Lolth’s sake just eat it.” He jested, amused by the faces she made as she considered the strange green grossness. 

At his biding, she hastily took a bite of it and to her surprise it was quite good. She quickly devoured it and with a satisfied smile thanked Valas. He returned a nod and a quick wink then hustled down the ledge. Lanie stood up, brushed herself off and walked over to where Valas just stood and climbed down the rope. At the bottom she took his hand in hers but suddenly froze at the sight that confronted her.

The thrall's  neck was slit ear to ear and left laying in a pool of its own blood. She tried to pull her hand from Valas’s, but he held it tight.

“Where we are going, the thrall cannot, I feared you would not agree, what is done is done, and it had to be done.” He explained as he kept walking, dragging her along by the hand, “furthermore, I will not tolerate you getting yourself inside my head again either, so you had best not be considering that."

“I’m not, I promise, but I wish you had asked me first before killing the poor creature. It didn’t deserve to die," she said somberly, "then again, what you did was for the best, it wouldn’t have survived without my will. It had no will of its own, no intent, other than to serve and protect its master. If I had merely let it go, I ran the risk of it bringing the illithids back to find me."She hesitated, then looked up at Valas wearing an expression that told him she thought she may have said to much.

Valas considered her proclamation, again feeling unnerved by it. Why would the illithids be looking for her? Before he could ponder his question any further, he suddenly felt her pulling on his hand with an unabound eagerness towards the light ahead that was setting the tunnel ablaze, it was daylight in the world above. The closer they got to the surface the brighter the cavern tunnels became.

“Ready, set, march,” she giggled with excitement, "I can’t wait to see the surface."

He was intrigued by her sudden display of childlike behavior. It was comforting to know that she still had it in her and whatever troubles and torments she endured during her time in the Underdark hadn’t destroyed it.


She was damaged, that was for sure, yet there was something truly innocent about her. There something naïve even, something he didn’t want to see her lose, something he could appreciate and found quite beautiful. Valas also felt sad for her, as Lanie knew nothing of the world above, and he knew she would be disappointed.

Valas acknowledged a deep feeling of pity, of his own devising, for the young girl. He had grown slightly fond of her during their travels, he was even protective of her to some degree, even if their time in the dark was short and uneventful.

Chapter 3: What Lies Above

Lanie quickly dropped Valas’s hand and made rush for the entrance of the cave that led to the surface world.

“Lanie, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Valas warned too late, as if it would matter anyways.

He knew Lanie would be regretting her choice later on. She hadn’t been exposed to sunlight in a very long time and it would take a while for her eyes to acclimate to the brightness. Unlike Lanie, Valas knew to wait until dusk before gradually emerging from the caves, he also knew that if he didn’t a terrible headache would cause him much anguish later.

He stood back, protected by the shade of the overhang of the cave’s mouth. He shielded his eyes with his hand, watching her for as long as his eyes would allow before the light caused him discomfort.

The sun kissed her face all the while tears streaked her cheeks as she forced her eyes open in a desperate attempt to see the world. The burning sensation was incredibly intense but she refused to shut them and when she forced her eyes to adjust she was left speechless.

The sky was bright blue and dotted with enormous clouds. The trees were wearing the fresh winter snow in their skeletal boughs. The cold bit at her bones but she did not care. Running up to the closest tree she reached out and touched the rough bark and looked up at its immense form. She had never seen such beauty before. It felt ancient almost God-like, it was humbling.

She saw tiny birds fluttering around the branches, some were red, some were blue, and a few were just black and they too, where beautiful. Her father read her stories about the surface world and even the words in those ancient books could not compare to the actuality of it all. She spread her arms and spun until she collapsed in the snow with a larger than life smile on her face.

Valas watched in silence, wondering if he would ever feel such a joyous moment in his life. He had lived centuries and couldn’t recall a time when he ever felt such excitement, he felt the brief sting of envy which was short lived when he reminded himself of the mere fact that Lanie was in for a rude awakening.

He didn’t want to be the cynic but he understood that the world above was not so different from the world below. All cultures had their dark side, and though the drow were noted for their cold-hearted cruel ways he had personally seen many humans deliver as brutal of a hand as any of his drow counterparts.

“Valas are you coming?” Lanie shouted from underneath the snowy canopy of a pine tree.

“Child, I choose to wait until the sun is lower, I won’t be the one complaining of a malicious headache later on tonight. I don’t think you are aware of what you have in store for you.” cautioned Valas.

“How can I worry about the silliness of a headache with the splendor of this surface world? It is amazing Valas, I want to drink my fill of it!” she danced around in the snow picking up a packed ball of it and throwing it at Valas with a giggle.

He quickly dodged while admiring her arm and her aim, picking up a handful himself and nailing her right in the face.

“Ha, don’t you tell me you didn’t deserve that!” he retaliated while rolling another ball of snow in his palm. He quickly launched it in her direction, but this time she was ready and ducked behind a tree trunk.

The sun was setting and Valas found the light more tolerable. Everything around him was aglow in a palette of soft orange and reddish colors. Even Lanie seemed to shine, her pale skin soaking in and reflecting the colors of the surrounding environment. He found the sunset behind her set her two distinctly different eye colors ablaze. He recalled how he felt alarmed by the site of them when he first noticed, but now he found them truly beautiful, unique in fact.

“We will start heading toward Luskan, it will be dark by the time we get to our entry point into the city,” Valas explained.

“Why do we have to wait until it is dark?” questioned Lanie.

“I gather by now you may have noticed that I have black skin?” Valas retorted with a slight hint of sarcastic disgust in his voice.

“Because you are a drow, you mean? The humans up here do not like drow? There are not many creatures that do like the drow are there?”

Valas nodded with a distant look in his eyes. He kept his pace brisk while Lanie’s little legs were giving her some trouble in keeping up in the deep snow. A few times she found herself falling into the drifts but was quick to pull herself up and rematch her strides with his. She sensed that her questioning had hit a nerve with him.

“Valas, I am sorry if I upset you. I vaguely know of the relationships that the drow share with other creatures of the realm, and most of what I know isn’t good. If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you are a bad drow, you are just doing what you need to do in order to survive.” She smiled at him.

He stopped and turned to regard her grabbing her arm and shaking her slightly, “You listen to me Lanie, the drow, my people, they deserve every bad name they get, and don’t you ever forget that!"

Lanie tried to break away from Valas's grip but was unable. He only shook her again and continued her verbal tirade.

"My actions toward you have done nothing but mislead you; there aren’t many drow out there who would have been so kind to you, regardless of your little mind games. You were lucky to have stumbled upon me. I know a few who would have destroyed you in a mere blink of an eye. I know of one in particular drow more powerful than any illithid you've come across and what he is capable of doing to you...” he trailed off without finishing that thought.

Valas watched the tears well up in her eyes as she stood there looking at him not knowing what to say. Most likely he had been her first substantial contact in a long time and because of this she had started to look up to him, even started to view him as a friend. He couldn’t allow that to happen, he didn’t want her to view him as anything but a means to get out of the Underdark. Most of all he couldn’t allow himself to become attached or ever care about her. Memories of his own family flashed through his head but he was quick to dismiss them. Those memories, accompanied by guilt and resentment, were a part of his past; were secrets he kept safely locked away.

“Look, Lanie, I do not want to intentionally hurt you, but you need to know that you cannot simply think you can trust me or any drow you see. I am doing you a favor, remember? I didn’t choose to place myself in this circumstance, you were the one who made all this happen and you need to remind yourself that I am doing this because you made me do it!” he explained.

Deep down Valas had grown to genuinely like her company while they traveled, but now that they were at their destination it would be time for them to go in their separate directions. He knew that the road ahead of her was going to be long and difficult; she had no one and was just a child, what was to become of her? He could only imagine, and his mind was running with dark thoughts about the possible outcomes that awaited her.

“Lanie, when we arrive in Luskan we will find a place to sleep and come the new dawn you can go your way and I will go mine. You can rest up and I’ll give you a few items you will need on your journey and then we will be done. Is this clear? We will sever our ties and be done with each other,” he curtly told her.

“Yes, Valas I understand” Lanie dejectedly responded.

Valas felt some relief in the fact she made no attempt to hold his hand again or resume conversation with him for the rest of the way.When they arrived at the Luskan gates in the early morning hours before the new sunrise they were met by two Bregan D’earthe mercenaries. Valas spoke with these two in thick drow dialect, while he exchanged something with one of the mercenaries. They calmly stepped aside as Valas tipped his head in a kindly gesture and motioned for Lanie to follow him.

She felt the mercenaries’ eyes measuring her up; she could sense their curious wonderment at the sight of her. Lanie kept her head down and continued onward. She wanted so badly to look up and see the city but she was still dwelling on Valas's harsh words.

She knew that he was right, she knew he was only doing what she wanted him to do and nothing more. Still though, she felt a connection with him that she had not felt since her short time wandering the Underdark with her father. She cursed herself silently and thought about how different her life would have been if she were normal, or better yet, if she hadn't been born at all.

They made their way down a side street towards an older building. Its weathered stone and beams boasted the structure's age, probably one of the older buildings in Luskan. The climbed the rickety stairway to the third floor, walking down the aisle to the fourth door.

"Home sweet home!" Valas exclaimed with some virulency to his tone as he opened the door.

Lanie barged right in and looked around the room. She appeared to be interested in the room but by the way she was rubbing her eyes Valas could tell she was exhausted.

“You can have the bed.” Valas told Lanie and he put some of his bags down in the chair near a dresser in the corner of the room. “I have no need for it at the moment, in fact I have to be somewhere before the sun comes up so the room is all yours.”

He turned to find Lanie already sound asleep in the bed. She was young and the excitement of the day must have worn her out. Valas walked over to where she slept pulling a blanket up around her and tucked her in. He gently brushed back a small weft of hair from her dirty face and watched her sleep for a quick moment.

Valas silently entered the apartment room adjacent to his. There were four mercenaries standing erect and ready in the four corners of the room. There was a fire going and the flames cast the shadow of a familiar plumed feather and tip of a hat against the wall behind a big leather armchair.

“Valas my friend, it is good to see you once again,” came the voice of his former master, Jarlaxle. "I have been residing in Luskan for a few weeks now. I couldn't help but stop by when I was told of your arrival."

“I am ever hopeful you may be here to tell me you are once again in control of Bregan D’aerthe?” Valas asked, a hopeful expression marked his face.

Jarlaxle laughed heartily, “Unfortunately that is not the case my friend,” he stood to acknowledge Valas, “Not yet anyway, soon enough, rest assured! I heard Kimmuriel called a meeting above ground, here in Luskan. A highly unlikely and unexpected move for Kimmuriel, things must be rather ‘chaotic’ down below as of lately, no?”

“I am afraid that I am limited on what I can tell you, Kimmuriel has been very guarded over the affairs of Bregan D’aerthe as of lately.” explained Valas.

“Of course, I am glad that he keeps such information guarded, even from me. He is smart and he should be that’s why I selected him to lead.” Jaraxle boasted. "He has already told me some of what has been going on as of lately, so no need to worry about keeping secrets."

Jarlaxle took a bone toothpick out of his pocket, placed it in his mouth and returned to his seat.

“Kimmuriel is intelligent, I'll give him that, but he is a whole lot of other things that even an aboleth would find unsettling.” Valas said with a wry smile.

“An aboleth huh? You would know.” Jarlaxle added. “Speaking of that, we really need to look into fixing your ‘situation’ sometime soon.”

Valas shot him a disgusted look that immediately told Jarlaxle he had crossed a line. It was no secret to Jarlaxle that Valas harbored a grudge about being selected to assist his sister, Quenthel Baenre, on her journey into the Abyss in search of Loth. He survived that ordeal but came back quite affected by it, not only emotionally but physically as well.

Suddenly what little hair Valas had on his arms began to rise and a slight burning sensation could be felt across his skin. Both he and Jarlaxle noticed the air suddenly grow thick and black on the back wall, spreading from the ground upwards toward the ceiling. A teleportation hole vibrated in anticipation of the three forms about to enter through.

Kimmuriel stepped through first, flanked by two Bregan D’aerthe clerics. He nodded towards Jarlaxle not seeming the least surprised to see him. Valas always found Kimmuriel’s foreboding presence very unnerving. Kimmuriel strode over to the black mahogany desk and promptly sat down cocked his head and directed his attention directly toward Valas.

Kimmuriel did not need to say anything, out loud or telepathically, Valas knew Kimmuriel was expecting his report on the recent activities in and around the ancient city of Chaulssin. Bregan D’aerthe had been keeping a long term eye on the Chaulssinyr over the years at Gromph’s demand and were being paid handsomely by the mage.

Lanie was crouched in the corner of the room with her ear firmly pressed against the wall. She could vaguely hear Valas’s voice discussing something about shadow dragons and the new regrowth of Chad Nasad. She heard other voices as well and still wanted to know more.

Curiosity got the best of her and sitting back on her heals she pressed her hands to the wall and began concentrating, slowly projecting her mind’s eye into the adjacent room. She concentrated on Valas and was able to channel herself into his head and see through his eyes.

There was a drow with a funny looking hat and unusual clothing sitting in an armchair chewing on a bone toothpick and looking vaguely interested in what was going on in the room. There were portentous looking guards with weapons sheathed at their sides; deadly looking weapons that Lanie had never seen before.

There were two in ornate robes who stood adjacent to one another behind another who sat. There was something about the seated drow that left Lanie feeling uncomfortable. After studying these drow she decided it was time for her to take Valas's words seriously.

Valas felt the tingling sensation between his brows, he assumed it was Kimmuriel, he watched the drow psion cock his head oddly to the left, similarly to how he had witnessed Lanie cock her head. It must be a psion attribute he thought, realizing that thinking about Lanie in Kimmuriel’s presence could bring much danger to the young girl. He quickly started filling his mind with images of Chausslin and Ched Nasad hoping it would be enough to keep Kimmuriel from discovering Lanie.

That cold stare of Kimmuriel’s was intense Valas could feel it at his very core. Kimmuriel sat there with no expression with his head now tilted to the right. Jarlaxle, obviously knowing more about Kimmuriel than any other must have noticed something was awry, for there was a fixed a look of suspicion upon his face. Valas met his stare then looked back at Kimmuriel. It was obvious to him the two were sharing a private telepathic conversation.

“Is there something wrong?” Valas questioned hesitantly.

“No, not at all,” Jarlaxle smiled while adjusting his eye patch over his right eye and bowing slightly towards Valas, “I must be on my way now.”

Jarlaxle turned abruptly on his heels and headed towards the door. Valas returned his gaze toward Kimmuriel but unexpectedly found Kimmuriel standing right in front of him, nearly nose to nose. Not saying a word, Kimmuriel brought his left index finger to the center of Valas’s head and stood there in silence with such a strong concentrated focus that Valas hoped the floor would open up and swallow him to a new plane of existence just to escape the uncomfortable situation.

His face, black as finely polished obsidian¸ was fiercely angular and his blood red eyes pierced right through Valas’s and right into her. Horrified she watched as his pupils spread swallowing the entire red of his iris, growing still to consume his eye whites leaving only two ominous black orbs. A trait common to many psions and Lanie knew right then and there she had been discovered.

Awestruck but frightened, she sensed his sheer power all the way into the very fiber of her being. She heard the door to the apartment where she was open but she couldn’t move to see who the intruder was, she was utterly defenseless. He had her in such a grip of raw psionic energy that he could easily kill her whenever he chose to. She felt herself slipping away into the darkness of her mind. The world around her felt as though it was falling away from her. Lanie could hear Valas’s voice pleading for the drow to stop.

It was then that Valas figured out what was happening. He felt the very pit of his stomache grow sick. There was nothing he could do, he knew the girl was doomed. He had led her into a situation that would destroy her. He should have just turned her loose in the city the second they breached the walls. She would have been better off on the streets than at Kimmuriel's mercy.

“Kimmuriel, she is just a child. She means no harm. I don’t believe she fully understands her own abilities.” Valas begged, all the while noticing the guards around him drawing their weapons, ready to strike at Kimmuriel’s command. Dread hit him as he came to realize that helping the child could also prove to be his demise. It was a mistake he should have never made.

At first, he was in a state of high alert, however, when he was able to project through Valas, a wave of feminine naïve innocence ricocheted back at him, awakening his curiosity. This strange creature could prove to be a very valuable research subject in his own studies. Kimmuriel spoke not a word, his expression didn’t change as he merely shoved Valas aside walking right through the wall and right into the adjacent room.

He stood before her dressed in simple fashion, a form-fitting full length black coat, tapered at the waistline and the buttons covered in a rich black velvet fabric that ran down from a prominent collar to his mid-thigh. He also wore black fitted pants and black armored boots also without ornate design. His white hair was neatly tied back with a piece of black leather into a half ponytail.

He had no weapons, no charms, nor any trinkets adorning any part of his person. Not even one ring on his finger, in fact he wore not a single piece of jewelry at all; an oddity for any drow, an oddity for most elves and denizens of the Underdark. For Lanie this meant one thing and one thing only, he was extremely powerful and it was his way of boasting.

Her limbs began to awaken and the cloudiness in her head lifted. The drow released her from his mental grip but kept a keen eye on her as he studied her. Circling her in a manner similar to a predator after trapping its prey, waiting for the opportune moment to deliver the final strike before consumption could begin. He crouched down relatively close to her and brought his face down to her level, locking eyes with her, she tried to look away but he would not allow it. Lanie watched as his pupils began to expand again.

He was delving into her mind, reading her memories, she couldn’t feel it, but she knew what he was doing. There were not many psions with mind reading abilities that could do so without the host perceiving any sort of sensation, another testament to his power. She focused on the mental blocks she had been trained to create to keep her darker secrets locked away. She held her own against him, though, it was obvious to her he was nowhere near pushing as hard as he was capable of. She concentrated hard trying to read him, trying to delve inside of him and gain perspective. She sensed his arousal at her attempted mental intrusion she sensed he welcomed it; abruptly she stopped fearing she went too far.

Jarlaxle, witnessing the strange display of psion interrogation, started to feel the intensity of the silence lingering in the room, like the calm before the storm. The small girl let out a pitiful whimper as her body went rigid and Kimmuriel began to lift her off the floor with his energy. She began crying and even from where he stood, Jarlaxle sensed she was experiencing pain.

She was so young, so innocent, so easy to torment, it excited Kimmuriel. The things he could do to her! Kimmuriel could feel the terrified girl reach into herself and begin transmitting energy and no sooner had she done that did Valas come barging through the door with both Kukris drawn lunging straight for an unprepared Jarlaxle, the closest target.

All within mere seconds Lanie found herself dropped to the floor as a wave of energy exploded forth from the drow psion and sent Valas slamming into a table, shattering it instantly. Jarlaxle also suffered minor impact from the blast which left him on the floor slightly dazed and confused. He was quick to pick himself when he heard the screams of the child.

“Valas, Valas, Valas, you killed Valas.” Lanie made a mad dash over to where Valas’s unconscious body lay. She climbed over him and buried her head in his chest.

“Please don’t be dead Valas, I am so sorry.” She pleaded her forgiveness over and over again. “Valas please get up.”

Jarlaxle rushed to his favored scout’s side while Kimmuriel made a swift move to grab the child up by her hair and drag her back towards the center of the room. She struggled against him and he delivered a swift hard backhand that sent her head reeling against the floor momentarily leaving her stunned. Kimmuriel brought a knee to her chest pinning her beneath him as he clutched her slender neck in his hands.

Having bit her tongue from the sheer force of Kimmuriel’s strike Lanie was left gurgling on her own blood as the drow psion shook her back to consciousness. When she became more aware of what was happening she was met with the most sinister smile she had ever seen, and that was when he started squeezing her neck. She grabbed at his wrists but could do nothing. When she began to lose her grip on consciousness he stopped again, waiting patiently for her consciousness to return, when it did he resumed squeezing.

Kimmuriel was limited to most feelings but one he did enjoy was the thrill of snuffing out the life of an inconsequential being with his bare hands. Being human, this child was most definitely inconsequential. Her psionic ability captivated him immensely and he was eager to dissect the child and get at her brain, take it apart and see how it worked. He watched with no hint of emotion on his face as the child struggled for air and her eyes rolled back as she fought to retain her consciousness.

He was suffocating her and she was choking on her blood. She could feel the liquid red oozing from the corners of her mouth as she tried to cough. She tried digging her nails into his wrists but to no avail, she tried to talk to him, reason with him but could force no sound from her mouth. His grip slackened and then tightened again and again, for longer durations each time.

“Kimmuriel Oblodra, that is enough, let her breathe,” demanded the other drow.

In her fight for consciousness she heard a familiar name, ‘Oblodra,’ it was familiar to her, but she could not place where she had heard it before. He either had sensed her recognition of the name or he momentarily considered the other drow’s demand, and his grip went slack. Kimmuriel did not break his stare with the girl whose pathetic tears were streaming down the sides of her face. Her crying nearly disgusted him as much as the mere sight of her did.
“Please d-d-don’t kill me,” she stammered.

Lanie was grossly outmatched and would not be able to subdue Kimmuriel with any of her psionic abilities. Still holding his wrists and taking advantage of the momentary pause she focused her emotions into an empathic projection. Wanting him to feel what she felt, hoping to influence his hold over her. There was nothing there, no depth, no soul, just an empty, cold, cruel, shell of a creature.

He let go of her neck grabbing her by the side of her head bringing her forehead to his own, “Foolish child, a play on my emotions will get you nowhere.”

He titled his head with a newfound curiosity stroking the sides of her face gently with his thumbs, again a wicked smile danced across his lips as he carefully studied her and looking deeply into her strange eyes.

He continued stroking the sides of her face and brought her forehead up to his again. Interesting it is, that you have such an empathic ability, it explains a lot and Laenaia Manaallin I know what you are, he said telepathically as he let her body fall to the ground. He stood up and turned his attention towards Jarlaxle who still trying to wake Valas from his state of unconsciousness.

Lanie hustled up as quickly as she could, making a run for the door, but the drow with the funny hat got there first blocking her only exit. She back pedaled slightly and ran over to the window. She climbed up onto the sill of the window pressing against the pane crying out in despair. She was doomed there was no way out.

Lanie’s survival instincts were now in overdrive, she turned from the window to eye Jarlaxle up and down in an attempt to measure him up. Jarlaxle found himself in a state of disbelief, he quickly shot a sideways glance over to where Kimmuriel stood. Kimmuriel only offered a slightly raised eyebrow and no other reaction. Kimmuriel appeared to be enjoying the poor child’s panicked state.

Jarlaxle looked back towards her, noticing she had very pale skin, a near milky white complexion like sculpted soapstone or white marble, with darker hair that fell in loose but snarly curls towards the ends. She had strange beadwork woven in amongst a few braids, and her clothing was dirty and tattered. She wasn’t just human, she was different, she was something more, this intrigued Jarlaxle greatly. He had a hunch about her.

Be careful with that one her, abilities are quite impressive despite being human, came Kimmuriel’s telepathic warning.

You shut up! You filthy beast rang the child’s telepathic voice through both their heads.

Stunned Jarlaxle shrugged at Kimmuriel in a state of confusion. True to fashion Kimmuriel stood there seemingly unsurprised and stony faced. Even if he didn’t show it, Jarlaxle knew there was a high level of intrigued under his expressionless exterior. To Kimmuriel, she was nothing more than a potential study for his research, a mere plaything who when the novelty wore off, would be quickly disposed of.

“Just what type of abilities are we talking about?” Jarlaxle asked Kimmuriel, this time in drow.

“The type that will get you killed if you don’t let me go fool,” the child declared in near perfect drow.

Jarlaxle crossed his arms and stared hard at her. Sheer contempt filled her eyes as she glared at him. Abruptly she turned her back to him and began watching the street below slowly awaken to life with the coming dawn. Valas had promised that the new dawn would mean it was time for them to go their separate ways. How she wished that promise could be fulfilled now.

Jarlaxle carefully studied her as the rising sun broke over the horizon and the city with its glittering skyline not only illuminated the tears streaking down her face but also her two different colored eyes which Jarlaxle could now see clearly. So striking they were with the light hitting them that even Jarlaxle found himself momentarily speechless.

“What is your name?” Jarlaxle asked in a language that even Kimmuriel did not recognize.

She slowly turned to regard him and it was apparent she understood him, but she did not offer an answer, she returned to staring out the window, both her hands and forehead pressed onto the glass.

“How old are you?” he coaxed her again in the same language.

Lanie did not turn to acknowledge him but held up two small hands showing a count of eight fingers.

“I am this many”, she whispered in perfect Roushoum, the tears still streaking her cheeks as she continued to speak in her native tongue, “the city comes to life with the rising of the sun. It is beautiful. The city and all its living components work like a story in a book and everybody has a part to play, a character to be- their specific role in life,” she turned towards Jarlaxle.

“You,” she spoke directly addressing him and he took quick notice of her eyes again before she turned back toward the window, “and the rest of them out there in all the corners of this world, all those people-human, orc, drow, and others, you all have your roles so perfectly rehearsed. You all play them so well. It doesn’t matter what city you live in, because really in truth all cities are all the same and all roles so similar. Valas was right it is no different up here than it was down there. It is just as cruel and just as difficult to survive here.”

She paused pressing herself harder against the glass and letting out a small whimper between another rush of tears, “All of it so beautiful to me, even the ugly.”

Her hands streaked down the window and her body shuttered under the weight of her inner agony, “I haven’t a place in this world, I haven’t a role to play, I am a freak, and I don’t belong.”

This time she looked at Kimmuriel telepathically speaking only to him, and you, you just need to be put out of your misery. You’re wretched and demented- you’re ruined, and you let them ruin you. Does that not make you weak? She noticed it then, a virtually undetectable wince crossed his face revealing to Lanie she had hit a nerve.

“It sickens me to think we have something in common.” She finished out loud in drow still holding a fixed stare on Kimmuriel.

Kimmuriel made no attempt to respond to the child instead he entertained thoughts of various torture techniques he would ‘kindly’ bestow upon her when the opportunity presented itself. However, he was caught extremely off-guard by how vulnerable this child had made him. Vulnerability was a foreign feeling to him and he couldn’t be sure if it was a genuine feeling of his own devising or not, and he didn’t like that.

He couldn’t be sure of this child’s strength, not combined with an ability he wasn’t able to understand on a level most sentient being could. He felt a lack of control in this situation and this was very unnerving to him, in fact it enraged him, all he understood was his immediate burning desire to kill her. He wanted her dead he needed to be rid of her. Her words stirred long forgotten memories, memories he thought he had eradicated from the fiber of his being.

“What would you like me to do with her?” Kimmuriel asked Jarlaxle intentionally out loud.

It was one of those rare times in his long life where he was at a loss for words. He had very little dealings with children, drow, human, or other, they were a foreign subject to him, Jarlaxle didn’t quite know how to approach her and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Jarlaxle rolled back on the heels of his boots as he considered leaving, but something in the pit of his stomach told him not to. Was it pity? A feeling quite contradictory to what he normal would have felt. He knew there was something more to this child and he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Let it go Jarlaxle, those feelings are not your own. She is projecting onto you. Kimmuriel’s voice entered his head this time accompanied with a tingling sensation that told Jarlaxle Kimmuriel was closely guarding their private conversation.

I do not feel any mental intrusions, other than your own Kimmuriel, and yet you tell me my feelings are not genuine. I have already noticed the poor thing has absolutely no magic ability which is extremely abnormal for her people. So Kimmuriel, do enlighten me as to how this young girl is having such an effect on me. Jarlaxle paused and eyed Kimmuriel.

For her‘people’? Kimmuriel said with a hint of suspicion pausing briefly for an explanation but Jarlaxle offered none.

Kimmuriel had already scoured her mind and was interested in knowing what Jarlaxle was able to ascertain with his limited perception. Sometimes he considered how much more powerful Jarlaxle could have been if he too also possessed psionic abilities. Kimmuriel found the thought disturbing and was quick to chasing it out of his head.

She has a very rare combination of abilities, in addition to her psionic abilities she has empathic psychic abilities. I am afraid that such abilities, when combined, not only make her unstable but weak as well. She runs the risk of hurting herself and others. She is a potential liability for those close to her. Kimmuriel partially lied.

He knew she could successfully master her abilities and had the potential to be quite powerful, but she would not be able to do so without training. Without learning how to master self-discipline techniques and combined with her ‘emotional’ weaknesses her powers would consumer her.

His family spent numerous hours rigorously training and developing their psionic ability. They even employed skilled illithids and his mother had also used the help of a certain powerful aboleth to aide in the training of her progeny. Any display of emotional weaknesses were routinely beaten out of an individual, however in this child’s case, one cannot simply remove empathic psychic abilities with an abusive hand.

Jarlaxle sensed a feeling of eagerness in the words that Kimmuriel spoke. It was clear that Kimmuriel was itching to get his hands on this child. He was greatly interested in her even if he didn’t display that eagerness overtly. Jarlaxle looked once again at the girl. She was staring at them both, a look of fear dancing across her face. She knew her fate was being decided and all Jarlaxle had to do was leave the room and leave her to Kimmuriel.

“Her name is Laenaia Manaallin,” came Valas’s voice followed by a series of slight groans as he pulled himself up off the floor rubbing his head, his ears bleeding from the psionic blast.

“She likes being called Lanie,” Valas said shooting a nasty look at Lanie, “Here I took her promise seriously when she said she wouldn’t get in my head again. I had no control over what I did, that wasn’t my choice”

“We are well aware of that.” Jarlaxle said as put his hand up to silence Valas from further explaining himself.

“It is as I suspected,” Jarlaxle mused while rubbing his chin, “Manaallin is a deep imaskari name and coupled with her usage of Roushoum, confirms she is indeed deep imaskari. How very interesting indeed!”

Lanie glanced over at Jarlaxle, but her concern was for her friend Valas. She felt horrible for what she had done to him.

“Valas I am really sorry, I was scared. That wretched drow psion was hurting me. I didn't know what else to do Valas. Please forgive me, and please don’t let him hurt me again, tell him I am not bad, tell him I won’t do anything bad, just tell him I want to be let go. Please Valas.” The girl pleaded, her life depending on it.

“And I don’t know what this strange looking drow wants with me either.” She continued pointing at Jarlaxle. “You know I just wanted to get to the surface, why won’t you just tell them that?”

“Strange looking?” Jarlaxed chimed obviously insulted.

“Yes, strange looking! I haven’t ever seen a bald drow with such funny looking clothing.” She scoffed.

“The only thing that is strange looking here is you!” he quickly snapped back.

Lanie felt the sting of his statement and dropped her eyes to the floor. She had made a grave mistake in coming to the surface. The only place she wanted to be was back in the tunnels of the Underdark alone with her thrall captive. She should have just stayed where she was, but she was stupid in believing the stories her father told her of the surface. She missed the Underdark immensely, nothing bothered her there and if something did, the thrall was quick to take care of it. She looked toward Valas but he offered no condolences only a look filled with anger and resentment.

You are better off alone for there are few that would ever understand the thing that you are, a memory of a gurgled voice belonging to a certain illithid echoed through her mind.

Lanie thought of her mother whose death came as a result of a magical experiment that went horribly wrong. Her mother rarely acknowledged her but in her dying breath made her father swear on his life that he would make sure Lanie survived. Her father was the one constant she ever had in her life and he was the only person who ever made her feel loved.

Her people were cold and cruel towards her and just like her mother, chose hardly to acknowledge her. Lanie, due to her unique abilities and her intelligence was able to retain all of her memories from the time she was born. She was also an incredibly fast learner but she had no ability to use magic. Her people found her lack of ability in the magic arts alarming. They were further terrified by her empathic psychic abilities, so much so, that they had come together to demand she be destroyed.

Her father, Talnein Manaallin, was given two choices, to stay and allow Laenaia to be destroyed or to leave with his dauther to live in the world outside their secret realm. He made a promise to his dying wife that he would do whatever he could to keep their daughter alive. Once they had their minds magically excised of their homeland location both Laenaia and her father were set free in the Underdark.

His intentions were to bring Lanie to the surface where they would live out the rest of their lives, but that never happened. They were captured by a small group of illithids within days of leaving their homeland. Lanie was barely two years old when she was forced to watch her father’s torture and eventual death. Once he was out of the way, the illithids brought her to a secret location where they began experimenting on her.

The experiments were brutal. She swallowed back a lump in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut tight all in a hope to push the memories out of her head. She steadied her breathing and brought her mind back to where it needed to be. Opening her eyes she realized the drow with the funny hat was now sitting in the chair closest to her.

Quietly Jarlaxle sat watching her in awkward silence. She wiped her tears off her dirty cheeks with her sleeves and met his gaze. The light catching her eyes brought life to the kaleidoscope of colors he found there. Her left eye was golden amber with bright blue chips within the iris, while the other was an extremely pale blue with chips of amber emanating like flames from around the pupil. In the blue eye, webs of white laced together the edge of her iris with the white of her eye. It was hard to tell where the blue of her iris began and the white if her eye ended.

At first glance it was freakishly startling but uniquely beautiful. Jarlaxle noticed how the child looked downward hiding her eyes from him, embarrassed by her strange flaw. Jarlaxle was then reminded of a certain drow who had unique colored eyes, one who also found himself out of place in the world, and with that thought slow smile broke across Jarlaxle’s face.

“Everything and everyone plays a purpose in this world,” he whispered in Roushoum just loud enough for her to hear.

"Kimmuriel take Valas to your clerics and have him tended to, let's make sure you didn't do too much damage to our best scout, besides the two of you still have matters relating to Bregan D’aerthe to further discuss. I am going to take Lanie here to get a bite to eat and then get her cleaned up. She is a mess and could use a good washing, and a new dress." Jarlaxle declared.

A sudden look of disgust found its place on Kimmuriel's face but he did not argue.

"Is that okay with you Lanie?" Jarlaxled asked. He stood up and offered the child his hand.

She looked at him with suspicion then turned to look at Valas, whose face revealed a look of relief and that was all she needed to see to know she would be okay. Kimmuriel was staring right at her and she glared right back at him, taking Jarlaxle's hand and directing a rather devious smile towards Kimmuriel. She knew it bothered him a lot more than he showed it.

Be ever vigilant with that one came another one of Kimmuriel's guarded telepathic warning.

Oh, but I will Kimmuriel, my friend, I will, and when I am done being so vigilant, the girl will be all yours, Jarlaxle winked a tipped his hat towards Kimmuriel as Lanie and he stepped out the door.

Chapter 4 The Inner Void

He sat in the dark comfort of his personal space. It was a place no one but his former master Jarlaxle knew of. He watched them through the scrying glass on the desk in front of him, studying the young child with a growing intensity. Lanie had unnerved him, she had stirred up old memories, memories that aroused an inner beast he had long ago caged and controlled.

But now this deep seated rage he locked away within the core of his being was suddenly restless, it was threatening him for release. He focused his mental energies on calming himself, tapping his fingers, and counting his breaths, all in an attempt to find the strength to tame the rage, gain control again, and put the beast back to rest.

His childhood made him the monster he is. Kimmuriel Oblodra was just five years old when his structured training in the psion arts started and when the abuse began followed by his rapid descent into the darkest depths of his being. His childhood was a nightmare, even by drow standards. The torture he endured through at the hands of his mother, sisters, and the illithids in his mother’s employment was simply cold hearted and beyond cruel.

K'yorl Odran, the house matron and Kimmuriel’s mother, passed her psionic abilities to all of her children. Kimmuriel was her only son, that in itself was a curse, but when it was revealed during his training that his potential was greater than K’yorl’s own and any of her daughters’ she grew angry and fearful of him. K’yorl took great care in reminding Kimmuriel of his station in life, employing extreme torture tactics; ones that left scars in various places of his body, some that nearly made a eunuch of him.

Breeding was of the upmost importance to K'yorl, she was continually trying to add to and improve upon the psionic abilities within her house. Even so, however, castration was a step K’yorl utlized for all males born within house Oblodra displaying any psionic ability.  A select few were kept unaltered for breeding purposes to enhance the trait and keep it strong within the bloodline, then castrated later. 

K'yorl often aquired handpicked females from outside sources to breed with her chosen male psions. Any children born of these pairings with the psion trait were kept ,all others were sacrificed. These females breeding captives were kept for four cyles of breeding and then quickly destroyed. They were destroyed immediately if they were infertile. 

K'yorl too great care and pride in her breeding program, ensuring only the the best psionic traits possible were passed down the line. K'yorl, her daughters, and those employed by her were responsible for making sure no males or females bred outside the house. In doing so this kept their psionic abilities closely guarded and cared for within the Oblodran line.

Though she fear him immensly, Kimmuriel was one such chosen male. K'yorl knew his power had to be utilized even if it bothered her. She kept him under watchful eyes at all times because she saw the potential power he brought to her house and the Oblodran bloodline. But after centuries of such extreme torment he was ruined, he had become a wretched twisted being and the mere sensation of someone getting close enough to touch him was enough to drive him mad. Kimmuriel doesn't allow anyone to touch him in any way, lovingly or otherwise.

Then one day he simply snapped, he had been pushed too far by his oldest sister, suffering a terribly devestating mental break. He saw black and still cannot recall what set him off or what happened during that time span . Three weeks of his life he lived in mental darkness unable to recall a single moment of it.

Apparently, according to Jarlaxle, during the first day he wreaked such havoc inside the Oblodra compound that five of K'yorls strongest psions were instantly killed and even K'yorl herself was wounded, though only superficially. It was Jarlaxle who had found him wandering the Underdark just outside of Menzoberranzan and managed to draw him out of his dark rage. It was Jarlaxle who gave him a new life and a mutually beneficial friendship- the likes of which he had never known before.

He allowed his fingers to trace the line of a scar on his chest as his thoughts roamed further. His physical scars are the memories that he keeps hidden in secrecy. Any other drow would of had the scars magically erase, but for Kimmuriel the damage was done, why erase their physical nature when their memory ran much deeper? Nothing could erase that.

His index finger continued following the jagged line of one of the many fibrous tissue mounds that webbed across his torso, his back, parts of his arms, and in areas he wished they didn't.  He reminded himself of the comfort and satisfaction that the ritualistic torture of others, especially women and illithids brings to him.

A brief thought of the child entered his mind and he contemplated what he would do to her.  With that a wry smile cracked his lips as he remembered his family's demise, of which he played no small roll in. Jarlaxle had taken great measures to afford him the opportunity to do so. 

The one time he ever felt pure euphoric excitement was at the site of his house falling into the rift along with the wretched drow of the Oblodran household. In that moment, hidden high in a shadowed perch of a cavern wall, he felt as though he shed his skin of the past- he felt free for the first time in his life.

He considered all that Jarlaxle had done for him even before the fall of his house and quickly refocused his attention back on the scrying glass, watching that female child with a heightened hatred. He was already sensing that Jarlaxle had a purpose for her and he wanted no part of it. That child with her unique abilities posed a threat to Kimmuriel, he could feel it. Having another psion in his midsts was an uncomfortable situation that he didn't want to be bothered with. 

The strong mental walls he constructed in his mind over the centuries held a strength even the most powerful illithids were hard pressed to break through. But this child was different, there was something terrible about her. And yet for a drow whose emotions run cold he found a chord of fear rang within him, sounding off a warning that told him this child needed to be destroyed.  He hadn't felt a damn thing in centuries and now he was truly feeling something. He was unedge and when he was finished scrying he saw his own face reflected in the surface of the mirror and with that sight came one thought, the child reminded him of himself.

~*~*~*~

The Tall Toad was full of good spirits and good food. Jarlaxle had eaten there once before not too long back while travelling with an acquaintance. However on this evening he felt the piercing stares of other patrons grow more intense than that night, but didn’t let the feeling bother him too much. He had grown accustomed to the way drow are perceived by the surface races but he still did not find comfort with it.

The little girl was clutching his right wrist with both hands as they wiggled their way through the tables towards the only empty one. He noticed how she walked with her head down so no one could see her face and the way she allowed her long hair to fall forward so that her locks would cover her eyes. When they sat down at the table she pulled her chair closer to his, tucked it in and placed her forehead on the table and sat so she could keep her eyes on her feet.

“You look downright silly sitting that way,” he cautioned, “too many people here taking notice of how you are sitting, and my presence here is already questionable in itself, now I have you besides me looking sickly or worse, disturbed. Do me a favor and sit up and at least make a valid attempt at manners. I know dwarves who have better table manners than what you currently display. We should have a stopped to get you washed up and new clothing first.” he complained.

She looked up at him with an apologetic smile which was emphasized by the sadness in her eyes. She really looked pitiful in her dirty torn clothing, snarled hair, and black dirt caked under her fingernails. Jarlaxle could tell she was a pretty little thing beneath all the grime.

Lanie had an angelic soft expression, he could have mistaken her for a surface elf by her build, which was unique to the imaskari. her features were angular however, a far cry from the harsh features of the drow. She looked like one of those porcelain dolls that the human children played with and she looked about as fragile too.

“How about after we eat we get you cleaned up in and in some better clothes?” Jarlaxle said.

“Okay, but I don’t want to be loud in my clothes like you are” she was quick to exclaim.

“Loud?” he questioned.

“Yes, loud! I don’t want to stand out. I don’t want anyone to notice me. You stand out, with your big feather hat, and gaudy bright colors.”

“Gaudy?” he shot back at her, “and here I thought I was being nice bringing you a long with me, and treating you to a nice meal and this is how you show your gratitude, by making fun of my attire?”

“Well you are not dressed like any normal drow I’ve seen before. Nor any normal person for that matter” She declared again for the second time.

Jarlaxle contemplated that remark, she was right, he was a far cry from a normal drow and wondered just how many other drow this human child encountered in her young life for her to make such a declaration.

“I’ll let you slip by on that one.” He winked at her just as a Halfling waddled up to their table with sourdough bread.

Jonar rudely dropped the bread basket on the table with a look of disgust aimed toward Jarlaxle.

“Listen drow, your coin is just as good as any other here and times are rough I need to be getting what I need to keep this establishment going. I don’t want any trouble from you or else I will have to ask you to leave and take that odd child with you.” He scoffed.

“Looks like the establishment is doing fine from my perspective, quite busy.” Jarlaxle retorted.

“You know what they be sayin’, can’t judge a book by its cover, and with things bein’ the way they have been in Luskan, I have had to severely drop my costs, because folks here just aren’t bringing in earnings, and I am seeing mine dwindle as well. The cost of food and supplies alone are on the rise and I can’t be going much longer like this. Trade hasn’t been good in these parts lately. No doubt your kind had a little something in doing with that.” He said eyeing Jarlaxle coldly.

“There be but two things on the menu today, Lamb Pocket, and Beef Stew.” Jonar sourly announced not giving Jarlaxle a chance to retort.

She could feel them, their emotions as if they were her own. All of them, the patrons in The Tall Toad, they hated Jarlaxle, they hated drow, and they found her questionable because of her association with him, because of her eyes. She could hear their thoughts clearly in her head and she wanted to silence them all.

The sharp pains in her head had only been growing stronger and were lasting longer. She found herself having to try harder and harder to control them and maintain her composure. She just wanted to disappear somewhere never to be found, a place where she could just melt away into nothing, where there would be no pain. At least this time the pain wasn’t accompanied by a nose bleed.

Look at those hideous eyes on that child. She looks sick with some disease that the drow must have infected her with. He can’t be trusted, especially him, look at the way he is dressed. I just wish they would be gone. I hate those wicked creatures here, most stay in the shadows, but that one with the eye patch walks around like he owns the place, like he wants us to notice him.

Their thoughts were chiming through her head ricocheting out of control off the confining walls of her skull. She was aware of their thoughts the very second she and Jarlaxle had entered the Tall Toad but her awareness had heighted as their stay in the restaurant  continued. It was beginning to drive her mad and she was trying her hardest to control herself.

This was her first time since she was three that she had been in group consisting of more than three beings. The last group she had been in, were all of Illithid biology and they kept their thoughts and feelings strictly to themselves, she never had to worry about blocking them. Lanie did not have the experience to block out more than one person at anytime. That required a lot of focus and skill.

Luckily Jonar had returned to the table with their food and that alone provided enough distraction for her temporary relief. Jarlaxle took note of the young child’s nearly insatiable appetite. She downed her Lamb Pocket in seconds. What he didn’t know was that the consumption of food was giving her temporary respite from what was going on in her head.

“Are you going to eat all that?” she questioned eagerly eyeing the beef stew Jarlaxle still had left.

He nudged it over to her, “Have at it little one,” and just as she reached for the spoon, he pulled it back, “but you will have to first tell me more about yourself. I am curious, Lanie, I want to know why you are here?”

The little girl sat back in her seat and studied Jarlaxle before she leaned forward whispering, “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think that I should and I don’t trust you,” she hesitated slightly before continuing, “I am not sure if I ever will. You are not the trusting type.”  

Jarlaxle raised his eyebrow at that remark and even felt the slight sting of truth behind it.

Her eyes matched the intensity of his.  She was seeing right into him, she tilted her head awkwardly not once pulling her stare away from him. He could feel it and with a thought he activated his eye patch as he slid his beef stew over to her and sat back watching her curiously.  She was an intelligent little thing.

Luckily though, for Jarlaxle, she was young and impressionable and he was very patient. He had all the time in the world to unravel her mysteries and discover the scope of her abilities and thanks to Kimmuriel, he knew that could be done sooner than later.