Raising a Resistance (Oblodra Gloom II)
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tales_of_faerunRaising a Resistance (4,575 words) by ilyena_sylph and senmut
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Relationship: Vierna Do'Urden & Zaknafein Do'Urden
Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Ensemble cast
Additional Tags: Canon-typical Violence
Series: Part 2 of Oblodra Gloom
Summary:
In Menzoberranzan, a matron of an influential House was demanding answers, seeking the cowards that had killed her daughter and Weapon Master with an assassin strike on their way to the market. No bodies had been recovered, as who would leave such skilled people to be resurrected by their powerful Matron?
That Malice genuinely believed this was part of the plan, as Lloth had granted her the prayer of making the lies seem as truth in her mind, something that would not break until she saw either her daughter or Weapon Master again.
Some distance away by portal and other magical assistance, that same Weapon Master chewed over how to handle the priestess. He barely thought about the baby she was nurturing; he was not a useful asset to the more important cause.
Yet. If the boy was as much like his parents as the priestess was, he might well be useful in time, but for now, he needed to cut off the threat that a High Priestess could be. Jarlaxle had very few women present in this camp, and those that were here were of the more common fighting variety.
Triel apparently kept the priestesses with her, but that would not further the plan for Drizzt's raising.
Making up his mind, he went to the small chamber she and the baby were in, walking in after the briefest of taps got a quiet 'enter'.
"I feel we need to discuss this venture," he signed to her. "Don't take any disrespect from this, but as a priestess, you are a threat to smooth cooperation here, when the rest of us are fighters, and have a rhythm to how to do the strikes.
"I know you're a capable fighter, and you can even think like one, but we need you to look at this from a drow's eyes, not a priestess above it all."
Vierna had put her wean-son down gently before Zaknafein knocked, and turned to look at him as he entered, reading the flicks of his fingers with amusement she kept as hidden as she kept the truth of who she was.
At the last, though, her lips curved just a little. "I am not so foolish," she signed in return, "as to emulate my idiot sister in any way. We must all survive, and if that requires some of Menzoberranzan's customs to be... set aside, then that is what must be.
"What is your -- of course, respectful -- advice, my teacher?"
That… had gone better than expected, and set Zaknafein on edge in different ways. Still, she had asked.
"Listen, at every planning session," he began. "You will be limited to healing us here, providing advice on what you do know, until the boy is old enough to eat proper foods and be left with others.
"But you need to stay informed, for when you can go on strikes with us. Trust Jarlaxle, more than others. He's invested in this above some others, and he won't cross me for less than control of the city itself, I feel. Which affords some protection to those of my House."
Vierna turned a ring on her finger, contemplating, and then nodded her agreement. "That is all reasonable," she replied after several long moments. "I am tied down now, with such a young infant, but that is no reason for me not to know everything I can."
Zaknafein considered a long moment. "Teach the women," he added after thinking about it. "They'll take the lessons from you better. And I know you're a better fighter, mace or dagger, than any of them."
Vierna nodded her agreement, willing to do that. "I need to craft a guardian for the boy anyway, that is only another reason."
No, she did not trust unknown drow any further than the infant in the crib an arm-length from her could throw them.
Zak looked over at the child, then back to her. He was surprised to feel an ache to go hold the child, or at least touch him. He thought he'd left that all behind when he lost Vierna to the Spider Queen.
"I'll see what Jarlaxle can offer; he hoards artifacts with magic, and may have something suitable, once the boy is being left alone.
"Do you have anything you wish of me?"
Vierna shook her head, signing back, "No, not now." She paused a moment, then asked, her fingers quick, "You think we can trust him that much?"
"Believe me, he's had more than enough opportunities, and a couple of instances for cause, to end my life or worse," Zaknafein said, amusement on his features now. "I trust him with any child I've sired, and will let you know if that changes."
Vierna felt her shoulders relax slightly at that, and she nodded to him. "A good thing to know. Was there anything else?"
"No. Rest well, Priestess," he signed before moving to leave, though his eyes flicked to the boy one last time.
"And you, when you choose to, Weapon Master," Vierna replied, not missing that long look to the child. That would be something to indulge... but not right now, when he was already taking his leave.
Working a war of sabotage and trickery was well within the capabilities of most drow. The key thing, though, was to never let the dragon or Oblodra suspect it was an outside element.
Jarlaxle, as well as several he had picked, had key knowledge of private grudges, and used those, making every attack look like it came from one party against the other in these grudges. Then they would fade back, let the city think it had been dealt with when the dragon or Oblodra instituted ever harsher penalties.
Through it all, a child was growing up with them, and Zaknafein was noticing the impact he had on the rest of them. There was something to the grim determination they all lived under, with a need to take their city back, that was wearing down the fanaticism to Lloth Herself. And having a child present, one that was as open and bright-eyed as Drizzt was, was giving them all a new perspective of what life could be.
Zak was cautiously hopeful that when they won, the city would be reshaped to something less hellish.
Shortly after their first conversation Vierna had met with two of Jarlaxle's wizards and had required a quicksilver tizzin (the bipedal, fierce-taloned cousins of the typical riding lizards) be found and brought to her and one of the wizards. After a long ritual that had demanded half a dozen valuable black onyx gems, she had had the protector she required for Drizzt. A skeletal tizzin with more intelligence than any Zak had ever seen, but bound to her and to Zak's commands through their amulets. He was the only one, he thought, who knew that Vierna painted the thing's fangs and claws with several deadly poisons every few days.
It had a saddle permanently adhered to its back, and at first that saddle had had a basket Drizzt could not escape, which the skeleton was ordered to protect from any hands not Zak or Vierna's. but now Drizzt could attach the riding-straps for himself when both of them were needed elsewhere. Or simply when Drizzt needed to be in some lesson, or go to fetch something.
Zak approved of the protection, even as he asked Jarlaxle to keep an eye out for something to add to it, something the boy could eventually control on his own, without adhering to an amulet controlled by another.
As soon as the boy was walking steadily, and coordinated for it, Zaknafein had crafted a game for him, involving small objects like coins or pebbles. The game varied a little, but mostly it was designed to improve hand-eye coordination, as well as finger dexterity.
Sometimes, he had pangs of worry that he was starting the boy even younger than his own training had begun, yet he credited that early start with why he always knew exactly where he was and how to move, with speed and accuracy. With Drizzt showing he had inherited the ambidexterity and intelligence, Zak was set on pushing him to the fullest potential.
Jarlaxle was supporting it, almost fascinated beyond belief, with the idea of shaping the perfect warrior out of Zak's own flesh and blood.
"Just as well he will be pointed at an ambition worthy of it," the mercenary had said. "Else you might be training your replacement."
"With luck, I'm training a new way," Zak had responded, intent on never going back to the way it had been -- no matter what steps he took to prevent it.
"I've noted," Jarlaxle had said thoughtfully, "that you seem not to be the only one with that opinion. Unless your daughter is even better at hiding what she actually thinks than even my sister."
It had been food for thought for Zaknafein.
Drizzt was not usually far from either his father or his sister, and he was often in the planning meetings, by Zak's wishes, so that he absorbed the language of strategy as early as possible. While he was a laughing and friendly child outside those meetings, he knew to be quiet through them, playing with his coins and smooth pebbles, or practicing his math skills alongside his memory by tracking certain words as they were said by the adults.
Today, however, they kept talking about how one of the spies -- that was someone who had to live in danger and tell them things -- had been killed. He heard his father's frustration in the words about a need to find and cultivate a new spy, that they had to be able to see what was happening in a House in the dangerous place.
"Do lizards go in the houses? The lizards can see, and tell me," he said, with all the confidence of an eight-year-old.
One of the women started to say something to that, but Vierna held up her hand. Something about his sister being a priestess meant the other woman shut her mouth.
"Drizzt, could you make sense of what they see and tell you?" she asked patiently.
"Yes." He looked at her, refusing to pay attention to any of the other adults. "I always know what they are saying."
Jarlaxle threw his own hand up to forestall the storm of words; he'd been present when Drizzt had warned them, the year before, of a band of intruders near their tunnels, because the lizards had said so. The boy was rarely seen without one now.
"It could be a stop-gap," Jarlaxle said. "Zak, can you help him know what they need to look for?"
Zak was looking at his strange son, who had nothing but lessons and the small creatures to distract him at all times. "We'll work on it," he said, wondering again, just what the boy truly was, with his open nature and odd tricks.
Drizzt nodded solemnly -- he wanted to help, to stop their people from dying. The lizards could learn what his father and sister needed to know, to keep everyone safer.
Vierna studied her wean-son, her little brother, wondering how it was that he, so small, could do something so obviously magical without any training.
"Let the boy aid, then, and hopefully, it will solve our trouble with seeing into several places," Jarlaxle said. "Any of you tasked to get the creatures close to target Houses, treat them gently."
He said that, as much for Drizzt's benefit, as because he knew this was a case where syrup would work better than vinegar.
After the first time one of Drizzt's lizards was successful in bringing them important information, Vierna prayed for communion in her spells that day, secured herself in her private chambers, and sank into the spell, reaching out for her Lord.
The familiar shadows embraced her, filling the place between them as her god appeared within them, a silhouette in a mask that hid His face from her.
"Yes, My priestess?" He invited, pleased by the chaos being sown in her birth city, even as He simmered because of that dragon being there. Little by little, the men, and even some women in the lowest classes, were learning of Him.
"Drizzt is doing something strange -- stranger than usual, even. He has convinced the spitting crawlers and other lizards to tell him what goes on in the Houses. I do not understand it. None of Triel's women do, either."
The mask shifted faintly, as Vhaeraun made a low, thoughtful noise. "It has been some time since such a thing happened. The Surface is more likely to have them, yet… perhaps…
"There are those who are called by Nature itself, and can commune with the wild creatures. It is nothing to worry over, though quite unusual." A low chuckle escaped the god. "Then again, from one that shares your blood, how could he not be unusual, My priestess?"
Vierna laughed quietly at that, smiling back at Him as she let His pleasure and pride wash through her. "I suppose that is true, my Lord. Thank you, for indulging me and soothing my concern. I -- he is precious to me."
"And that is one more reason you belong as Mine," Vhaeraun told her. "Return to yourself, refreshed," He added, granting her a small gift to show His affection for indulging her questions.
The silhouette swirled away in the shadows, and the spell was ended on His departure.
Vierna opened her eyes, much relieved, and though it had been a long and tiring day, she felt as though she had just awakened from a long and peaceful rest. Smiling quietly to herself, she rose to set about other tasks.
The boy -- well, he was of an age to be in school now, Jarlaxle thought -- was not supposed to get tangled up in the fight.
Because they were shadar-kai, there could be no survivors. And Jarlaxle was already wondering who had betrayed this location to the enemy, but that would be a task for later, if there was a later.
The beauty of the boy's flawless sword-work was almost distracting. Zaknafein had outdone himself by training his son to perfection.
The skeletal tizzin was wreaking havoc. So long as the shadar-kai weren't psionically bonded back to someone in the city, they might yet keep their secrecy, but it was going to mean moving up the timetable, the leader was certain.
After, when every single enemy was accounted for, Jarlaxle looked over, saw the boy leaning on the skeletal protector, and wondered if he should go over to him. That felt like sentimental nonsense, the leader thought to himself, and he looked around at the rest of them.
"Get everything ready to move," he ordered, noting that Vierna was doing her best to either heal or preserve the ones who had fallen, and that Zaknafein had contented himself with a glance at his son. That was good, that duty was taking precedence. Jarlaxle looked back at the boy, saw him moving to aid.
He'd find out later from Zak how the first blooding had affected the boy, after they moved to the next bolthole.
Drizzt had not had time to actually think. Once the attack began, he only knew he needed to move, to protect the others. His father and sister had drilled it into his mind and body alike that he was meant to be a warrior.
It wasn't until they were on the move, with him riding his skeletal tizzin to have a clear view above the others, that he could think about it.
He'd taken several lives, and even though the shadar-kai were not drow, the similarities wore on his mind. He trusted his father, his sister, so he knew they were the enemy, but they were allied to drow inside the city.
Someday, he might have to kill drow, as he'd killed them.
The conflict of his actions, taking lives like that, versus being proud of his skills and wanting to use them was one he knew he needed to wrestle past. The city was under control of a dragon and a madwoman, causing suffering and pain and worse.
He was meant to help break that, liberate their home, and make it safe again.
As he rode, he kept that last thought high in his mind, coming to terms with killing in defense of others.
It was after the group had split, with a common point to reach, that Zaknafein was able to get time to speak to Vierna.
"It's weighing on him," Zaknafein signed to his daughter. The time spent raising the boy had brought him back to a point of wanting to believe she was not so lost to him as her station of being a priestess could have made her.
She was as unlike Malice in the ways that mattered, where his hatred of Lloth's clerics was concerned, and completely reasonable in handling the men she dealt with. He was privately of a mind that if Malice did not see reason, once this was done, he might well help the second daughter of their House become Matron.
"The killing," he clarified, keeping his hands where only she should be able to see them as the band they were with for this move rested.
Vierna nodded, very slightly, because she had seen it on her brother's face, in his eyes. "Do you have any idea why?"
She deplored the useless killing of sacrifices to Lolth, and had little patience with the internecine murders that had been so frequent in Menzoberranzan, but to have a fight like this trouble him? No, that Vierna was bewildered by.
"I've heard, among other peoples, it is common to have trouble with a first kill," Zaknafein said. He had not, not until the raid in his graduation year. And from then on, as they started having House Wars, he found the children being killed left him troubled more than anything else about his life.
"But he is drow," Vierna said, before she paused and considered what she had just said. "...raised unlike any male drow in at least several centuries, though," she signed, her fingers moving thoughtfully. "Do you want to try talking to him, or leave it to me?"
"I do not know what to say." He ached to ask what Drizzt felt and thought, to see if his son was so much like him, but… more. "Do you have an idea of what might help?"
Vierna shook her head. "Guesses, only," she replied. "So I'll try one, and if that fails, give you the other to try."
"As you will, Vierna. He respects us both, so one of us should be able to cut through his cloud," Zaknafein said. "We just can't allow him to hesitate, because of whatever this is."
"No," Vierna agreed, "we cannot."
She left it at that, for the moment. She wasn't going to try talking to Drizzt until they were safely home.
Jarlaxle tested the wards on this safe haven, called his siblings to him to reinforce the magics that told other creatures to leave them alone and not see the place. Then the weary band were able to settle into new quarters, unloading supplies. Drizzt worked hard, much as they all did, but eventually, Vierna was alone with him.
Zaknafein was in with Jarlaxle, reviewing their situation, and determining if the timeline needed to be moved up.
Vierna caught his attention with a slight click of her tongue, and when he focused on her, said quietly. "You hid it well, but I know you've been troubled, little brother. Tell me what it is?"
Drizzt studied her a moment, then came over to sit by her legs, not looking at her as he marshaled his thoughts.
"I knew, all along, I was being trained as a soldier, the heir of father's ability married to your cunning, and polished by the ones around us, especially our leader," he began. "On one level, I knew this would mean killing. All of my training has focused on the fastest ways to do so.
"But knowing, and doing, are different. I didn't process the deaths as they happened, Vierna. But after, once we were on the move, I could see their faces, their surprise. It overrode their hate and determination, when they realized my blades had ended them."
Now he did look up at her, his purple eyes shadowed. "I wish it did not have to be that way. But I have been told all my life, it will be, for we must take back the city, free the other drow with no choice at being held in captivity!"
Vierna reached down and brushed some of his hair back from his face, listening... and not understanding at all. Why was he bothered by that, rather than taking satisfaction from it? Why did he care about the realization of death at all? At least she had Zaknafein's information about the other races, it was not something she had ever considered before.
...free the other drow? Well, yes, of course, from the dragon's control, but she knew too well that the bloodshed that would break out when the Houses were freed from the dragon's control would be extreme...
And the hope and determination in Drizzt's voice told her that he had no idea what would come after. That worried her, for it said something truly unpleasant might happen once the dragon was defeated. Either to her brother, or to their relationship, to what he thought of her and of Zaknafein alike. That was a very, very unhappy thought. "How they... felt... matters to you?"
"Yes?" Drizzt said, puzzled tone very evident. "Do they choose to follow their orders, or are they made to? I've been warned time and again about the mind powers. I've followed all of your exercises to make my mind stronger.
"If they chose it, truly, then it is a sad thing they are the enemy, and there can be no peace, and I will do as needed. But … if they did not choose, if they're made to, it's harder. Because I would wish to free them too."
Vierna's bewilderment was as strong as her brother's puzzled tone implied he was, as she tried to make sense of what he had just said, what he revealed about how he thought and felt -- and she simply... could not. Why did having an enemy make him sad? Enemies were everywhere, always. "I have never considered it," she replied, much more calmly than she really felt. "To my knowledge, they need no compulsion to wish to kill drow. Even if they were, I prefer to survive, so... they must die."
Drizzt blew out a long breath, heavily. "So I understand," he told her, but there was something defeated in the words. "I will do as trained, sister. And someday, when we win, I will be able to just dance with my blades, and enjoy it, as I wish to, for the skill alone, not for other people to be free because I kill."
Vierna reached down again, cupping her hand against his cheek gently. "I, too, prefer sparring for the pleasure of it to a killing fight," she told him softly. "Our father, as well. I do not like to see you unhappy, little brother, but... your upset is strange to me.
"Do not let anyone but our father see it, Drizzt," she warned him, her voice as heavy with warning as she could make it. "He may understand more than I do, but none of the others will."
His face looked very confused, before he nodded once, accepting her word as his law. "I will mind that warning, Vierna, even if I do not understand why." He pressed into her touch, though, and closed his eyes, letting the battle go for now, and trying not to think of the coming deaths he would cause.
After a rest, and praying for her spells, Vierna went to find their father to talk to him about what she had found.
He was inspecting his arsenal from his pouch, deciding what else needed to be made to replenish it, and had evidently cleaned all of his blades as they were laid out precisely on the table next to him.
"Vierna," he acknowledged, continuing his careful inventory.
She came to sit across from him, and sighed softly. "You may have been on to something, with your words about other races and first kills," she said, very quietly.
"He's just not like other drow," Zaknafein said, just as quietly. "It's different in our band, true, but there's still enough undercurrents that… I just don't understand him at times.
"But it was the first kill bothering him?"
Vierna pushed her fingers through her hair as she nodded. "He said that after, he saw their faces, their surprise... their realization of death, and it troubled him. It troubles him more that they may be compelled, because he would 'wish to free them, too' -- but most of all, I think, I am disturbed by his... sadness, his care for how they felt.
"I rarely take any pleasure in killing, it simply must be done, but the simple logic of 'for us to live, they must die' seemed... almost to wound him? I told him never to let that show to anyone but you or I, and he agreed, though he said he did not understand why."
Zaknafein put the light pellets back into their pouch carefully, considering what she had said, and what he had observed. It made him uneasy, because if that was the shape of his son, then Menzoberranzan would break him, once they had liberated the city.
That was outside the realm of possibility, for Zaknafein, who knew he loved his children, both of them. He hoped to shape a stronger, more equal future, and had sworn he would not return to how it had been. If change did not happen, he … he would leave.
Yet, just the time to see that change through would likely be too much for Drizzt's nature, if his heart was that soft. And Zaknafein would rather flee before he saw his son broken, or worse.
"He does not seem inclined to disobey either of us. We'll just have to watch for it," he finally said, unwilling to admit to his daughter, no matter how lenient a priestess she was, that he had no intention of letting Drizzt be a victim of their people.
"Yes," Vierna agreed, nodding. She could tell that he was thinking much more than he would say... but that was no surprise. He was so protective of Drizzt -- and to his eyes, she was a priestess of Lloth.
"I need two more light pellets, to replace what I used, and one of the web traps," Zak said, to move them off the subject of his son.
"You'll have them by day after tomorrow," Vierna told him, and rose to depart back to what needed to be done. She'd shared what she could, and with Zaknafein aware, there was a better chance of keeping anyone else from using Drizzt's strangeness against him.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
* Links will work as parts are revealed
ilyena_sylph and senmutChapters: 1/1
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Relationship: Vierna Do'Urden & Zaknafein Do'Urden
Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Ensemble cast
Additional Tags: Canon-typical Violence
Series: Part 2 of Oblodra Gloom
Summary:
Drizzt is growing up under the care of his father and sister... and the band they live with
In Menzoberranzan, a matron of an influential House was demanding answers, seeking the cowards that had killed her daughter and Weapon Master with an assassin strike on their way to the market. No bodies had been recovered, as who would leave such skilled people to be resurrected by their powerful Matron?
That Malice genuinely believed this was part of the plan, as Lloth had granted her the prayer of making the lies seem as truth in her mind, something that would not break until she saw either her daughter or Weapon Master again.
Some distance away by portal and other magical assistance, that same Weapon Master chewed over how to handle the priestess. He barely thought about the baby she was nurturing; he was not a useful asset to the more important cause.
Yet. If the boy was as much like his parents as the priestess was, he might well be useful in time, but for now, he needed to cut off the threat that a High Priestess could be. Jarlaxle had very few women present in this camp, and those that were here were of the more common fighting variety.
Triel apparently kept the priestesses with her, but that would not further the plan for Drizzt's raising.
Making up his mind, he went to the small chamber she and the baby were in, walking in after the briefest of taps got a quiet 'enter'.
"I feel we need to discuss this venture," he signed to her. "Don't take any disrespect from this, but as a priestess, you are a threat to smooth cooperation here, when the rest of us are fighters, and have a rhythm to how to do the strikes.
"I know you're a capable fighter, and you can even think like one, but we need you to look at this from a drow's eyes, not a priestess above it all."
Vierna had put her wean-son down gently before Zaknafein knocked, and turned to look at him as he entered, reading the flicks of his fingers with amusement she kept as hidden as she kept the truth of who she was.
At the last, though, her lips curved just a little. "I am not so foolish," she signed in return, "as to emulate my idiot sister in any way. We must all survive, and if that requires some of Menzoberranzan's customs to be... set aside, then that is what must be.
"What is your -- of course, respectful -- advice, my teacher?"
That… had gone better than expected, and set Zaknafein on edge in different ways. Still, she had asked.
"Listen, at every planning session," he began. "You will be limited to healing us here, providing advice on what you do know, until the boy is old enough to eat proper foods and be left with others.
"But you need to stay informed, for when you can go on strikes with us. Trust Jarlaxle, more than others. He's invested in this above some others, and he won't cross me for less than control of the city itself, I feel. Which affords some protection to those of my House."
Vierna turned a ring on her finger, contemplating, and then nodded her agreement. "That is all reasonable," she replied after several long moments. "I am tied down now, with such a young infant, but that is no reason for me not to know everything I can."
Zaknafein considered a long moment. "Teach the women," he added after thinking about it. "They'll take the lessons from you better. And I know you're a better fighter, mace or dagger, than any of them."
Vierna nodded her agreement, willing to do that. "I need to craft a guardian for the boy anyway, that is only another reason."
No, she did not trust unknown drow any further than the infant in the crib an arm-length from her could throw them.
Zak looked over at the child, then back to her. He was surprised to feel an ache to go hold the child, or at least touch him. He thought he'd left that all behind when he lost Vierna to the Spider Queen.
"I'll see what Jarlaxle can offer; he hoards artifacts with magic, and may have something suitable, once the boy is being left alone.
"Do you have anything you wish of me?"
Vierna shook her head, signing back, "No, not now." She paused a moment, then asked, her fingers quick, "You think we can trust him that much?"
"Believe me, he's had more than enough opportunities, and a couple of instances for cause, to end my life or worse," Zaknafein said, amusement on his features now. "I trust him with any child I've sired, and will let you know if that changes."
Vierna felt her shoulders relax slightly at that, and she nodded to him. "A good thing to know. Was there anything else?"
"No. Rest well, Priestess," he signed before moving to leave, though his eyes flicked to the boy one last time.
"And you, when you choose to, Weapon Master," Vierna replied, not missing that long look to the child. That would be something to indulge... but not right now, when he was already taking his leave.
Working a war of sabotage and trickery was well within the capabilities of most drow. The key thing, though, was to never let the dragon or Oblodra suspect it was an outside element.
Jarlaxle, as well as several he had picked, had key knowledge of private grudges, and used those, making every attack look like it came from one party against the other in these grudges. Then they would fade back, let the city think it had been dealt with when the dragon or Oblodra instituted ever harsher penalties.
Through it all, a child was growing up with them, and Zaknafein was noticing the impact he had on the rest of them. There was something to the grim determination they all lived under, with a need to take their city back, that was wearing down the fanaticism to Lloth Herself. And having a child present, one that was as open and bright-eyed as Drizzt was, was giving them all a new perspective of what life could be.
Zak was cautiously hopeful that when they won, the city would be reshaped to something less hellish.
Shortly after their first conversation Vierna had met with two of Jarlaxle's wizards and had required a quicksilver tizzin (the bipedal, fierce-taloned cousins of the typical riding lizards) be found and brought to her and one of the wizards. After a long ritual that had demanded half a dozen valuable black onyx gems, she had had the protector she required for Drizzt. A skeletal tizzin with more intelligence than any Zak had ever seen, but bound to her and to Zak's commands through their amulets. He was the only one, he thought, who knew that Vierna painted the thing's fangs and claws with several deadly poisons every few days.
It had a saddle permanently adhered to its back, and at first that saddle had had a basket Drizzt could not escape, which the skeleton was ordered to protect from any hands not Zak or Vierna's. but now Drizzt could attach the riding-straps for himself when both of them were needed elsewhere. Or simply when Drizzt needed to be in some lesson, or go to fetch something.
Zak approved of the protection, even as he asked Jarlaxle to keep an eye out for something to add to it, something the boy could eventually control on his own, without adhering to an amulet controlled by another.
As soon as the boy was walking steadily, and coordinated for it, Zaknafein had crafted a game for him, involving small objects like coins or pebbles. The game varied a little, but mostly it was designed to improve hand-eye coordination, as well as finger dexterity.
Sometimes, he had pangs of worry that he was starting the boy even younger than his own training had begun, yet he credited that early start with why he always knew exactly where he was and how to move, with speed and accuracy. With Drizzt showing he had inherited the ambidexterity and intelligence, Zak was set on pushing him to the fullest potential.
Jarlaxle was supporting it, almost fascinated beyond belief, with the idea of shaping the perfect warrior out of Zak's own flesh and blood.
"Just as well he will be pointed at an ambition worthy of it," the mercenary had said. "Else you might be training your replacement."
"With luck, I'm training a new way," Zak had responded, intent on never going back to the way it had been -- no matter what steps he took to prevent it.
"I've noted," Jarlaxle had said thoughtfully, "that you seem not to be the only one with that opinion. Unless your daughter is even better at hiding what she actually thinks than even my sister."
It had been food for thought for Zaknafein.
Drizzt was not usually far from either his father or his sister, and he was often in the planning meetings, by Zak's wishes, so that he absorbed the language of strategy as early as possible. While he was a laughing and friendly child outside those meetings, he knew to be quiet through them, playing with his coins and smooth pebbles, or practicing his math skills alongside his memory by tracking certain words as they were said by the adults.
Today, however, they kept talking about how one of the spies -- that was someone who had to live in danger and tell them things -- had been killed. He heard his father's frustration in the words about a need to find and cultivate a new spy, that they had to be able to see what was happening in a House in the dangerous place.
"Do lizards go in the houses? The lizards can see, and tell me," he said, with all the confidence of an eight-year-old.
One of the women started to say something to that, but Vierna held up her hand. Something about his sister being a priestess meant the other woman shut her mouth.
"Drizzt, could you make sense of what they see and tell you?" she asked patiently.
"Yes." He looked at her, refusing to pay attention to any of the other adults. "I always know what they are saying."
Jarlaxle threw his own hand up to forestall the storm of words; he'd been present when Drizzt had warned them, the year before, of a band of intruders near their tunnels, because the lizards had said so. The boy was rarely seen without one now.
"It could be a stop-gap," Jarlaxle said. "Zak, can you help him know what they need to look for?"
Zak was looking at his strange son, who had nothing but lessons and the small creatures to distract him at all times. "We'll work on it," he said, wondering again, just what the boy truly was, with his open nature and odd tricks.
Drizzt nodded solemnly -- he wanted to help, to stop their people from dying. The lizards could learn what his father and sister needed to know, to keep everyone safer.
Vierna studied her wean-son, her little brother, wondering how it was that he, so small, could do something so obviously magical without any training.
"Let the boy aid, then, and hopefully, it will solve our trouble with seeing into several places," Jarlaxle said. "Any of you tasked to get the creatures close to target Houses, treat them gently."
He said that, as much for Drizzt's benefit, as because he knew this was a case where syrup would work better than vinegar.
After the first time one of Drizzt's lizards was successful in bringing them important information, Vierna prayed for communion in her spells that day, secured herself in her private chambers, and sank into the spell, reaching out for her Lord.
The familiar shadows embraced her, filling the place between them as her god appeared within them, a silhouette in a mask that hid His face from her.
"Yes, My priestess?" He invited, pleased by the chaos being sown in her birth city, even as He simmered because of that dragon being there. Little by little, the men, and even some women in the lowest classes, were learning of Him.
"Drizzt is doing something strange -- stranger than usual, even. He has convinced the spitting crawlers and other lizards to tell him what goes on in the Houses. I do not understand it. None of Triel's women do, either."
The mask shifted faintly, as Vhaeraun made a low, thoughtful noise. "It has been some time since such a thing happened. The Surface is more likely to have them, yet… perhaps…
"There are those who are called by Nature itself, and can commune with the wild creatures. It is nothing to worry over, though quite unusual." A low chuckle escaped the god. "Then again, from one that shares your blood, how could he not be unusual, My priestess?"
Vierna laughed quietly at that, smiling back at Him as she let His pleasure and pride wash through her. "I suppose that is true, my Lord. Thank you, for indulging me and soothing my concern. I -- he is precious to me."
"And that is one more reason you belong as Mine," Vhaeraun told her. "Return to yourself, refreshed," He added, granting her a small gift to show His affection for indulging her questions.
The silhouette swirled away in the shadows, and the spell was ended on His departure.
Vierna opened her eyes, much relieved, and though it had been a long and tiring day, she felt as though she had just awakened from a long and peaceful rest. Smiling quietly to herself, she rose to set about other tasks.
The boy -- well, he was of an age to be in school now, Jarlaxle thought -- was not supposed to get tangled up in the fight.
Because they were shadar-kai, there could be no survivors. And Jarlaxle was already wondering who had betrayed this location to the enemy, but that would be a task for later, if there was a later.
The beauty of the boy's flawless sword-work was almost distracting. Zaknafein had outdone himself by training his son to perfection.
The skeletal tizzin was wreaking havoc. So long as the shadar-kai weren't psionically bonded back to someone in the city, they might yet keep their secrecy, but it was going to mean moving up the timetable, the leader was certain.
After, when every single enemy was accounted for, Jarlaxle looked over, saw the boy leaning on the skeletal protector, and wondered if he should go over to him. That felt like sentimental nonsense, the leader thought to himself, and he looked around at the rest of them.
"Get everything ready to move," he ordered, noting that Vierna was doing her best to either heal or preserve the ones who had fallen, and that Zaknafein had contented himself with a glance at his son. That was good, that duty was taking precedence. Jarlaxle looked back at the boy, saw him moving to aid.
He'd find out later from Zak how the first blooding had affected the boy, after they moved to the next bolthole.
Drizzt had not had time to actually think. Once the attack began, he only knew he needed to move, to protect the others. His father and sister had drilled it into his mind and body alike that he was meant to be a warrior.
It wasn't until they were on the move, with him riding his skeletal tizzin to have a clear view above the others, that he could think about it.
He'd taken several lives, and even though the shadar-kai were not drow, the similarities wore on his mind. He trusted his father, his sister, so he knew they were the enemy, but they were allied to drow inside the city.
Someday, he might have to kill drow, as he'd killed them.
The conflict of his actions, taking lives like that, versus being proud of his skills and wanting to use them was one he knew he needed to wrestle past. The city was under control of a dragon and a madwoman, causing suffering and pain and worse.
He was meant to help break that, liberate their home, and make it safe again.
As he rode, he kept that last thought high in his mind, coming to terms with killing in defense of others.
It was after the group had split, with a common point to reach, that Zaknafein was able to get time to speak to Vierna.
"It's weighing on him," Zaknafein signed to his daughter. The time spent raising the boy had brought him back to a point of wanting to believe she was not so lost to him as her station of being a priestess could have made her.
She was as unlike Malice in the ways that mattered, where his hatred of Lloth's clerics was concerned, and completely reasonable in handling the men she dealt with. He was privately of a mind that if Malice did not see reason, once this was done, he might well help the second daughter of their House become Matron.
"The killing," he clarified, keeping his hands where only she should be able to see them as the band they were with for this move rested.
Vierna nodded, very slightly, because she had seen it on her brother's face, in his eyes. "Do you have any idea why?"
She deplored the useless killing of sacrifices to Lolth, and had little patience with the internecine murders that had been so frequent in Menzoberranzan, but to have a fight like this trouble him? No, that Vierna was bewildered by.
"I've heard, among other peoples, it is common to have trouble with a first kill," Zaknafein said. He had not, not until the raid in his graduation year. And from then on, as they started having House Wars, he found the children being killed left him troubled more than anything else about his life.
"But he is drow," Vierna said, before she paused and considered what she had just said. "...raised unlike any male drow in at least several centuries, though," she signed, her fingers moving thoughtfully. "Do you want to try talking to him, or leave it to me?"
"I do not know what to say." He ached to ask what Drizzt felt and thought, to see if his son was so much like him, but… more. "Do you have an idea of what might help?"
Vierna shook her head. "Guesses, only," she replied. "So I'll try one, and if that fails, give you the other to try."
"As you will, Vierna. He respects us both, so one of us should be able to cut through his cloud," Zaknafein said. "We just can't allow him to hesitate, because of whatever this is."
"No," Vierna agreed, "we cannot."
She left it at that, for the moment. She wasn't going to try talking to Drizzt until they were safely home.
Jarlaxle tested the wards on this safe haven, called his siblings to him to reinforce the magics that told other creatures to leave them alone and not see the place. Then the weary band were able to settle into new quarters, unloading supplies. Drizzt worked hard, much as they all did, but eventually, Vierna was alone with him.
Zaknafein was in with Jarlaxle, reviewing their situation, and determining if the timeline needed to be moved up.
Vierna caught his attention with a slight click of her tongue, and when he focused on her, said quietly. "You hid it well, but I know you've been troubled, little brother. Tell me what it is?"
Drizzt studied her a moment, then came over to sit by her legs, not looking at her as he marshaled his thoughts.
"I knew, all along, I was being trained as a soldier, the heir of father's ability married to your cunning, and polished by the ones around us, especially our leader," he began. "On one level, I knew this would mean killing. All of my training has focused on the fastest ways to do so.
"But knowing, and doing, are different. I didn't process the deaths as they happened, Vierna. But after, once we were on the move, I could see their faces, their surprise. It overrode their hate and determination, when they realized my blades had ended them."
Now he did look up at her, his purple eyes shadowed. "I wish it did not have to be that way. But I have been told all my life, it will be, for we must take back the city, free the other drow with no choice at being held in captivity!"
Vierna reached down and brushed some of his hair back from his face, listening... and not understanding at all. Why was he bothered by that, rather than taking satisfaction from it? Why did he care about the realization of death at all? At least she had Zaknafein's information about the other races, it was not something she had ever considered before.
...free the other drow? Well, yes, of course, from the dragon's control, but she knew too well that the bloodshed that would break out when the Houses were freed from the dragon's control would be extreme...
And the hope and determination in Drizzt's voice told her that he had no idea what would come after. That worried her, for it said something truly unpleasant might happen once the dragon was defeated. Either to her brother, or to their relationship, to what he thought of her and of Zaknafein alike. That was a very, very unhappy thought. "How they... felt... matters to you?"
"Yes?" Drizzt said, puzzled tone very evident. "Do they choose to follow their orders, or are they made to? I've been warned time and again about the mind powers. I've followed all of your exercises to make my mind stronger.
"If they chose it, truly, then it is a sad thing they are the enemy, and there can be no peace, and I will do as needed. But … if they did not choose, if they're made to, it's harder. Because I would wish to free them too."
Vierna's bewilderment was as strong as her brother's puzzled tone implied he was, as she tried to make sense of what he had just said, what he revealed about how he thought and felt -- and she simply... could not. Why did having an enemy make him sad? Enemies were everywhere, always. "I have never considered it," she replied, much more calmly than she really felt. "To my knowledge, they need no compulsion to wish to kill drow. Even if they were, I prefer to survive, so... they must die."
Drizzt blew out a long breath, heavily. "So I understand," he told her, but there was something defeated in the words. "I will do as trained, sister. And someday, when we win, I will be able to just dance with my blades, and enjoy it, as I wish to, for the skill alone, not for other people to be free because I kill."
Vierna reached down again, cupping her hand against his cheek gently. "I, too, prefer sparring for the pleasure of it to a killing fight," she told him softly. "Our father, as well. I do not like to see you unhappy, little brother, but... your upset is strange to me.
"Do not let anyone but our father see it, Drizzt," she warned him, her voice as heavy with warning as she could make it. "He may understand more than I do, but none of the others will."
His face looked very confused, before he nodded once, accepting her word as his law. "I will mind that warning, Vierna, even if I do not understand why." He pressed into her touch, though, and closed his eyes, letting the battle go for now, and trying not to think of the coming deaths he would cause.
After a rest, and praying for her spells, Vierna went to find their father to talk to him about what she had found.
He was inspecting his arsenal from his pouch, deciding what else needed to be made to replenish it, and had evidently cleaned all of his blades as they were laid out precisely on the table next to him.
"Vierna," he acknowledged, continuing his careful inventory.
She came to sit across from him, and sighed softly. "You may have been on to something, with your words about other races and first kills," she said, very quietly.
"He's just not like other drow," Zaknafein said, just as quietly. "It's different in our band, true, but there's still enough undercurrents that… I just don't understand him at times.
"But it was the first kill bothering him?"
Vierna pushed her fingers through her hair as she nodded. "He said that after, he saw their faces, their surprise... their realization of death, and it troubled him. It troubles him more that they may be compelled, because he would 'wish to free them, too' -- but most of all, I think, I am disturbed by his... sadness, his care for how they felt.
"I rarely take any pleasure in killing, it simply must be done, but the simple logic of 'for us to live, they must die' seemed... almost to wound him? I told him never to let that show to anyone but you or I, and he agreed, though he said he did not understand why."
Zaknafein put the light pellets back into their pouch carefully, considering what she had said, and what he had observed. It made him uneasy, because if that was the shape of his son, then Menzoberranzan would break him, once they had liberated the city.
That was outside the realm of possibility, for Zaknafein, who knew he loved his children, both of them. He hoped to shape a stronger, more equal future, and had sworn he would not return to how it had been. If change did not happen, he … he would leave.
Yet, just the time to see that change through would likely be too much for Drizzt's nature, if his heart was that soft. And Zaknafein would rather flee before he saw his son broken, or worse.
"He does not seem inclined to disobey either of us. We'll just have to watch for it," he finally said, unwilling to admit to his daughter, no matter how lenient a priestess she was, that he had no intention of letting Drizzt be a victim of their people.
"Yes," Vierna agreed, nodding. She could tell that he was thinking much more than he would say... but that was no surprise. He was so protective of Drizzt -- and to his eyes, she was a priestess of Lloth.
"I need two more light pellets, to replace what I used, and one of the web traps," Zak said, to move them off the subject of his son.
"You'll have them by day after tomorrow," Vierna told him, and rose to depart back to what needed to be done. She'd shared what she could, and with Zaknafein aware, there was a better chance of keeping anyone else from using Drizzt's strangeness against him.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
* Links will work as parts are revealed
Tags:
- au: canon divergence,
- author: ilyena_sylph,
- author: sharpest_asp,
- category: gen,
- character: drizzt do'urden,
- character: jarlaxle baenre,
- character: malice do'urden,
- character: vhaeraun,
- character: vierna do'urden,
- character: zaknafein do'urden,
- freeform: canon-typical violence,
- rating: general audiences,
- series: oblodra gloom,
- warning: no warnings apply
no subject
Date: 2023-06-07 12:01 am (UTC)Malice is not getting as much of a spotlight as I would have hoped, but I am plotting around her part in the upcoming Part III, with hopes of her being a resounding schemer.
Vierna is, from a discussion with Yena, aware that Malice, or another, could take the information from Zak's mind which is likely the only reason it is a secret still.
Drizzt is making drow question. Isn't that just what current canon says he does? LOL.
Such a guardian.
I definitely wanted to keep the idea of the ranger gifts. He is, though we haven't addressed it, hearing Eilistraee.
Wasn't Vhaeraun adorable? He is very invested in THAT dragon's death, in His stolen priestess, and the chance to get Zak's skills under His aegis. He can cope with the goodly boy for that.
I figured, not having been exposed to that House War right before school, or school itself, Drizzt's nature just... can't deal with killing as blase as they want him to.
But yes, father and sister going 'you're weird, but you're our weirdling' and trying to protect him from repercussions.
Thank you, so much.