The lesson had begun. The diminutive goblin stood on a chair at the library table and was explaining how the channels of the soul ran through the body. It stood on the chair and held the thighbone, an unwilling gift from Aunrae’s half-sister, Zestree, horizontally over the library table and spoke a few arcane words. Moments later, a ghostly vapor congealed and reconstructed the body. Veins, arteries, and canals of life energy (“some cultures call it `chi,’” Eclavdra explained) glowed in varying colors, racing throughout the translucent form. It rested on its back, a few inches over the library table. Aunrae touched the wispy cadaver, fascinated. It was Zestree; her ghostly shape hovered in repose above the long table.
“Is this what masters of the arcane get to do?”
“Yes. Over the centuries I have studied under some of the smartest necromancers and anatomists. You see, the true way to discover the truths of life is to discover what energies run the body and how they can be controlled and interrupted. These channels here connect the organs with the rest of the body, as well as control the muscles…”
The lecture went on for several minutes. Aunrae was transfixed by the vaporous anatomical model.
“How is this… formed?” Aunrae asked.
“It is mainly air, dust and dark energy remnants of the creature’s soul. Completely without intellect but constructed from memory. Who was this?
“A half-sister who attacked me. Zestree. I slew her.”
As soon as Aunrae spoke her sister’s name, the ghostly replica shuddered as it floated over the table. The head turned slightly towards Aunrae and the apparition’s arm reached out. The labyrinthine paths of veins and energies that ran through it pulsed brighter. Its mouth opened and it tried to sit up, reaching still closer. Aunrae stepped back and drew her morning star. The goblin’s eyes opened wider and it whispered a few arcane syllables. The ghostly shape darkened and moaned as it tore away from the thighbone that Eclavdra held over the table.
Aunrae swung her weapon uselessly through the reaching hand as it got closer. All the glowing veins and channels that ran through it faded and the shape became pure shadow. The goblin started laughing and grasped the thighbone with both hands.
“So interesting, young one! This is not my doing, it must be yours! Just a moment.”
The goblin struggled with the thighbone. Aunrae watched in disbelief as she watched her mother try to snap the thighbone using the pathetic arms of a slain goblin. The shadow lunged. The biting cold of it made her scream and her legs buckled. She almost lost her grip on the morning star. Aunrae dashed through the expansive library and hid behind a bookcase. She readied her weapon. The morning star was unwieldy and her chain shirt felt oppressively heavy. She knew the touch of the shadow had drained a portion of her strength. She concentrated on quieting her breath. The cold winds blew around her quietly and the voices whispered urgent nonsense. Somehow, even with her back to the far wall of the library, the winds were pushing her forward. The shadow searched for her, gliding silently through the walls and stacked bookcases.
Aunrae listened though she knew the shadow moved with the silence of the grave. It occasionally moaned feebly in irritation or resentment. Zestree doesn’t know what she is, Aunrae thought. Pathetic. She also heard the fumbling of her mother’s corpse host, a tiny goblin grunting and struggling to break the thighbone in two. Doubtless her mother, an arch necromancer, had a spell that could deal with this. She was doing this to test her daughter. As she listened, she thought she heard the goblin’s hoarse grunting intermingled with an amused chuckle. Infuriating!
With a groan, the shadow surged through the bookcase hiding Aunrae and attacked. Aunrae rolled into the aisle to her left and stood up. She ran back the way she came, toward the long library table with the shadow close behind. Turning a corner, she saw the goblin corpse that housed her mother’s consciousness. It was trying to snap the thighbone across its knee, but didn’t look to be trying too hard. With a yell, she sprinted to the table. She heard the shadow moan in her ear and her fear completely gave way to fury. She dove into a roll and the shadow passed over her. She snapped up to her feet as the shadow turned and came back at her again. Aunarae stood her ground, gripping her morning star with every ounce of strength she had left and seething with anger.
“Zestree, damn you! I’ve killed you once and now you challenge me again? Touch me and your soul will pay a second price for your bold stupidity. HOW DARE YOU RAISE ANOTHER HAND TO ME!”
The shadow froze. Cowed, it seemed to shrink into itself. It hovered in the aisle, turning in uncertain circles.
Eclavdra nodded and held the thighbone aloft with both arms. Aunrae stormed over and hefted her morning star. She brought the gleaming black-steel weapon down in a high sweeping arc through the bone. It broke with a snap. Aunrae aimed the morning star to break Zestree’s thighbone in two… on its way to the goblin’s little skull. “Bitch!” she snarled as one of the protruding spikes pierced the creature’s forehead. It flopped back into its seat. The shadow dissolved with a pitiful moan.
Aunrae freed her weapon. The goblin’s eyes rolled momentarily and looked up. It smiled and sat up in the library chair, wiping the blood and brains from its face. The tiny thing was a bloody mess, ripped through the ribs and an open, oozing forehead. It stood up in the chair and flicked the gore from its hands. A messy splat stained a set of volumes on a nearby bookcase. Eclavdra smoothed out her goblin host’s bloody robes and calmly found her pipe and tobacco pouch.
“Shoo,” the little goblin said as it struck a match.
Aunrae turned around and saw four armed and armored males. Duskryn guards. They had their swords drawn and viewed the scene in bewilderment. Aunrae was still simmering.
“Be gone!”
The guards filed out. They would report this. Aunrae wondered if it would work in her favor.
She turned back to the torn goblin. The creature was incanting a series of spells. Aunrae could feel the air get closer and a quietness settled around them. Her mother wanted to mask this conversation. She’d never taken as many measures before. She beckoned Aunrae to a seat at the table. Aunrae stowed her weapon and sat down.
“I knew it. You are worth the effort,” Eclavdra said, more brainy goop was oozing down the side of the goblin’s face.
“What effort?”
“Here, you must swallow this first.” The goblin produced a small emerald from a pouch that hung on its tattered belt and dropped it into Aunrae’s palm. She studied it carefully. It seemed to hum with some odd power. Not magic. A small point of green light within the gem gave it an uncanny glow. Aunrae eyed her mother.
“Trust, Aunrae. It is in short supply here in the Underdark. But right now, it is the only way you will escape a death full of slow agony. Trust… and trust is the only thing that will keep you alive in the World Above where everyone will either run from you or try to kill you. It is something you will have to learn. Now, swallow the gem.”
Trust! After all this? Aunrae obeyed. Her throat tightened and convulsed as the gem descended. She felt strangely dizzy but the spasm subsided as soon as it had come. Poison? She didn’t think her mother would use something so weak.
“I survived your poison, mother. You don’t want to waste a spell on me?”
Eclavdra ignored the accusation and continued. “I was of Menzoberranzan’s Second House, Barrison Del’Armgo. I secretly learned everything I could from the mages of our house and had several spells at my disposal before my move to Arach-Tinillith. I escaped during one of the squabbles that typically befall the drow inside the academy. I thought I could leave Menzoberranzan and be free forever, which was foolish. Every few years, Barrison Del’Armgo finds me with another assassin. I have killed them all, but the last 2 were troublesome… and painful. They interrupt my research! And so I am cutting House Barrison Del’Armgo a deal. I will give them House Duskryn and all its secrets. In return, they will stop sending assassins.”
Aunrae’s estimation of her mother dropped. What a fool, she thought.
“They will not honor your deal, mother.”
“Yes, they will.”
“Mother, you are a f-“
Before Aunrae could utter the insult, the bloody goblin sneered and thrust its palm at her. An arrow hissed from its palm and struck Aunrae in the shoulder. The sting of it blasted the wind from her, and she felt her skin burning under her mail shirt. The magical acid arrow was dissolving through her armor and slowly eating at her skin. She winced and wanted to scream but she’d spend a century in Hell before she’d let her surface-dwelling mother see her show pain. The acid kept burning, but she sat in wincing silence.
“Now, while your skin hisses and burns, listen carefully. I have promised House Barrison Del’Armgo the secrets of Duskryn and I will provide them. Everyone in your House will die. If you want to live and escape to the surface world then listen carefully. You will meet a creature named Sazen. You will do exactly what he says. You will tell him everything you know about the Hall of Vexation.”
“I don’t know anything about the Hall of Vexation, or the trade routes. This is ridiculous. I won’t learn anything until my ten years at Arach-Tinillith are done. I – “
“Ten years.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you will survive ten years at Arach-Tinillith?”
Aunrae though about the whispers that haunted her and had broken the artifact of Lloth in the chapel. A centuries old likeness of the Spider Queen had been shattered and thrown the whole house into a vicious panic. She knew it was the cold voices, the haunting winds that had tipped the artifact. Zanitra had just figured it out as well.
“No.”
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