Ranko looked up as Distanfae entered her room. She noticed that he seemed unusually agitated. "Laermornan can't keep his mouth shut," he growled. "And now that they've seen the blade in action, I can't stave them off with talk of tests and finishing it. My mother has demanded that you be presented to her."
Less than a quarter of an hour later, Distanfae made his way through the halls, Ranko with him.
"Remember what we have spoken of," Distanfae warned Ranko mentally. Not waiting for a reponse, he strode through the doors of the chapel as they opened before him. As with most events of importance in their dark society, the presentation of a newly crafted weapon, representing as it did the culmination of a task given him by his Matron, would be performed under the auspices of the Spider Queen, the dark goddess whose worship perpetuated the evil for which their race had become known.
Ranko rested in his hands for he would not trust her to a servant. She wore the appearance of the katana she had fashioned to fight Laermornan, though Distanfae had guided her through the process of decorating its surface. Her hilt was plainly wrapped, while her blade, though otherwise that of an ordinary katana, bore blood-grooves in a concession to the weapon design expectations of the society it was to be used in.
The plain wrap was deceptive, for Distanfae had provided her with a silken wrap made from the webbing of a phase spider. It would be recognizable to any drow familiar with the weapons of the nobility, for it was oft-used in the better swords. A sword with such a grip could not be knocked from its owner's hand, and so would help explain Ranko's hold on herself, when and if she ended up as the weapon's apparent wielder. That its effects were due to its inherently magical properties had allowed her to make the silk part of herself.
She rested in a sheath, but unlike the silken wrap, it was not part of her. He had provided the materials and she had shaped them under the guidance of his mind, but she had done so with her quicksilver, for the materials were non-magical and could not be made part of her.
Of course, that was quite deliberate. She knew, though it made her nervous, that she would be placed in the hands of another, and possibly tested, used to kill. If she could not be drawn from her scabbard she would hardly seem a useful weapon.
He had informed her of the general patterns of behavior weapons such as her displayed. He had also told her what would happen when another's hand touched her, for which she still felt unprepared, though he had not explained why it did not occur when he touched her. He had made it clear that she should not allow Kliza to wield her. If the matron demanded that she be wielded by a House noble, Laermornan would be a better choice. Less strong-willed, he was male and younger, and could be influenced by Distanfae far more easily than the higher-ranking female priestess.
Without an eye, nor room in the hilt to form one, she was sightless. She was not blind, however. Her consciousness was submerged in the quicksilver pool and the chapel of this house was so wound about with magic that she could see nearly every detail. Most of it was a light magic that seemed without purpose, yet covered every surface, but there were also magic weaves of great power on the door and the altar and about several of the persons within.
Distanfae walked proudly forward, Ranko resting on his lifted palms. He inclined his head as he stood at the foot of the dais where his mother stood in front of the altar. Kliza, his sister, stood at her right hand. The snake-headed whip of a high priestess hissed at him from her belt. Laermornan stood to his mother's left, in front of, not on, the dais.
Kliza stepped forward after a nod from their mother, and grasped the hilt firmly in her hands. Taking the sword from his hand, she looked at it, examining the hilt, then drew it forth a few inches, examining the blade.
"Why so strange a blade?" his mother asked, fixing him with a baleful glare.
"It is the most elegant of the human blade styles capable of being turned to the purpose, Matron," Distanfae said, inclining his head in humility, but keeping his eyes on her.
---
Ranko wanted to shudder in disgust and revulsion when Kliza's hand touched her. As Distanfae had warned her, the touch of his sibling opened a conduit between them. Kliza's upper mind was opened to Ranko and she was dismayed at the nature of it. "She's worse than Kodachi," Ranko thought in disgusted wonder. Indeed, the eldest child of Matron Vitrue was a sadist, taking pleasure in inflicting pain and in her mind now was pleasure at the thought of dominating the sword. Ranko felt grateful that the conduit was at least partially one way. Kliza would feel nothing from Ranko's mind excepting those thoughts and images she deliberately sent, though Distanfae had also warned her that she might send certain images and especially feelings across the conduit entirely unconsciously.
Ranko felt the woman's eyes on her and wanted to vanish into the shadows waiting within the sheath, feeling dirtied by Kliza's hungry gaze. She forced herself to remain still and submit to the examination. Kliza ran her finger against the blade's edge, opening a cut and painting a portion of Ranko's edge red with blood. Ranko wished she could pull away, feeling disturbingly as if Happosai were caressing her. The pleasure Kliza was feeling at the pain of the wound was turning the drow on and disgusting Ranko as a consequence, since she could feel the woman's arousal.
Ranko felt suddenly grateful that Distanfae had agreed that they should conceal the quicksilver component of her, to avoid any questions about its effects. She did not care for the thought of tasting Kliza's blood. The liquid feel of it was ignorable, though in combination with Kliza's arousal, it felt disturbingly like a nosebleed. Ranko grasped at her sheath with hundreds of swiftly formed hooks, nauseous at the thought of being aroused by this disgusting woman, and unwilling to be wielded by her, even during their contest of wills. Hopefully it would not turn out too ill, as long as she allowed Laermornan to draw her in his turn.
Kliza moved to draw her fully forth, then growled in anger, drawing the eyes of the others to her as she jerked at the sheath. "So," she growled, smiling, a feral gleam in her eyes, "it does not wish to be wielded by me? Know this, blade, no weapon has yet defeated me. You will not be the first."
Ranko felt Kliza's will pressing on her suddenly, through the conduit. Now it was time. Kliza had initiated the battle, and Distanfae had made clear the consequences. "She is familiar with intelligent magic weapons and has experience in forcing her will on them. If you fall to her, then you will be wielded by her until she dies or loses favor and there will be nothing I can do about it. Our plan will work, but only if you can defeat her in a contest of wills."
Ranko smirked, confidence growing. How had she defeated Saffron or Herb, when all logic insisted that it could not be done? She prepared herself, picturing herself mentally, an image that quickly gained strength, standing ready to defend against Kliza's barrage. It was a technique suggested by her maker as offering the best chance for her to use her true skills in the battle. Prepared as she was, her mental avatar was dropped to the floor by Kliza's first attack. She rolled across the mental plain, howling in laughter at the images Kliza flung at her, seeking to entice. "Ok," she gasped, struggling back to nonexistent feet, "maybe she's not as bad as Kodachi."
Apparently Kliza had heard of one of the key aspects of rune weapons before; that they held the soul of a powerful being, and that they were generally controllable through their inability to feel any sensation except through their wielder. Worse yet, she was sending images and scenes filled with sensation, yet deliberately avoiding the forms of sensation that she was actually experienced in. Kliza apparently had little taste for the sensual pleasures unless they were combined with the giving of pain, and so her proffered temptations were amateurish at best, as she tried to avoid any intimation of pain.
Kliza was quick enough to recognize the failure of her tactic, however, as Ranko's amusement reached through the conduit, and so she switched to intimidation. Ranko's laughter grew, as Kliza threw her true desires into the fray, though she recognized that she could not win by staying on the defensive. Still, images of pain were hardly intimidating to one who could no longer feel pain, though perhaps Kliza believed it would be painful for Ranko if her wielder was in pain. She flung Kuno's poetry in retaliation for the images, poetry being recited by a painfully cute animal that she had been unable to avoid seeing on posters in Nerima, laughing wildly as Kliza withdrew in pain and confusion. With the poems and images coming directly into her mind, it was not possible to tune them out, and Kuno's efforts were horrible manglings to begin with, and not in the least improved by a cutesy delivery.
As Kliza finally regained her control, Ranko launched the attack for which Kuno's poetry had made such an excellent cover. Kliza shrieked in disgust, dropping the sword to beat at the shriveled little monster that was groping her as if it had a hundred hands. It vanished as the sword rang loudly against the ground.
Laermornan and the Matron stared at Kliza in shock and disbelief. Never before had she been bested in a contest of wills. The blade she wore even now had driven its previous wielder mad in retaliation for trying to take up another weapon as well, but Kliza had mastered five since obtaining it and it had not been able to object.
Now she had been defeated in mere moments. The Matron turned her dark red eyes on Distanfae. "What good is a sword if none can wield it?" she asked in a voice crackling with anger.
"There is one who can," he replied calmly, hiding his surprise. She had not even considered Laermornan. He knew that she was prejudiced against the male gender. Most drow women were, especially the priestesses of Lolth, but still, Laermonan was a weaponsmaster. He stifled a shudder, realizing that he had just played into her hands. Her anger was not, as he had thought, at Kliza's failure but at his own calm reaction to it. She must think that he had deliberately designed the weapon to be unwieldable by her.
Laermornan laughed, recognizing Distanfae's reference immediately. "That wench? The sword was wielding her," he exclaimed, bristling defensively, still angry over his defeat at Ranko's hands.
Distanfae kept his eyes on his mother, and spoke in a flat, even tone. "The sword does not grant any skill." Laermornan's laughter stopped short, cut off as by the stroke of a blade. Distanfae held in his smirk. He knew exactly what his brother's response would be, and expected that it would ease his mother's wrath.
"But... but she was toying with me!" Laermornan protested angrily, certain that Distanfae was lying. The Matron smiled at the thought of a sword wielder more skilled than her eldest son, wielding an indestructible blade. Distanfae breathed a silent sigh of relief. She would doubtless test his candidate, but with that sort of endorsement, particularly given the circumstances under which it was offered, she would, he hoped, give he and Ranko a fair chance.
"We shall see her skill," the Matron declared, silencing Kliza who had been about to protest and demand another chance at the blade.
Laermornan fumed for a moment. "She's an outsider," he snapped, "she's loyal to you, isn't she? Your pawn, to control this weapon!"
Kliza stepped forward, clearly angered by her failure and smarting at her humiliation. She glanced at her mother and visibly took control of herself, speaking calmly. "As my brother says, this woman is not known to us. If she is skilled enough to be worthy, then letting the household know of her before she is ready to be used is just as dangerous as letting them know of the blade itself. If it were known that we had acquired another blademaster, or even might do so, we would be seen as a greater threat. Another house might move to eliminate us before we could bring her and the weapon into play."
The matron looked back and forth between her children, then closed her eyes in thought. Her son had expected Kliza's failure, which he should not have, given her previous successes. So he must have made certain that she could not wield the sword. She would have to punish him for that, but if this alternative warrior was sufficiently skillful she might well make up for his insolence to his sister. Laermornan's words implied that she was, but Kliza's comment was true as well, though she could easily see where it was directed, if more subtly than Laermornan's last barb.
Kliza had obviously come to the same conclusion as her mother, and was seeking to strike back at Distanfae by putting barriers in his way. That did not, however, make her wrong.
Her eyes opened and fixed on Distanfae. "This woman of yours... she has already handled the weapon." She paused and Distanfae nodded without hesitation, knowing that his reaction to Laermornan's comment had confirmed that the woman wielding the blade was his proffered warrior and remembering that he had been scryed upon shortly afterwards in that same training session.
The matron leaned forward, searching his face. "You will go with her and the weapon and prove yourself in battle. Your life will depend on your warrior. I hope your faith in her is not misplaced. I will send someone to guide you to the battle in half an hour. Be ready. Now, be off!"
Distanfae bowed jerkily, allowing his anger to show, after a lightning-quick evaluation of his options. If his siblings felt that he was displeased or fearful of the outcome, they might be willing to allow him to fail by himself, rather than risking a direct attempt at sabotage, and possible detection.
His anger was not wholly feigned. He had not expected his mother to put his own life on the line. He suspected that she would make sure he was not actually at risk, at least until she had firm control over her newest weapon, but the declaration had surely given his siblings reason to think they might go unpunished if he failed to make it back alive.
Given that both his siblings had just been faced with failure before their mother, a show of confidence on his part, which might normally be expected to give them pause if they considered attacked him, would merely goad them to action to save face. Striding quickly over to where his sister stood, he took up the weapon, not meeting his sister's mocking glare, then strode from the room.
The matron looked at her daughter after Distanfae was well away. "You will guide him, Kliza. Take Laermornan with you, find something for him to fight." Her voice grew chill with warning. "Make absolutely certain that he faces nothing you cannot retrieve him from if she should fail. I will not lose both weapon and creator at once! Bring the weapon back, at all costs. It must not fall into a rival's hands."
---
Distanfae slammed his door behind him as he strode angrily into his room. He cast Ranko onto the bed, her sheath falling beside her. She quickly reformed herself, then as quickly averted her eyes, for he was stripping. "Garb yourself for battle," he said, pointing to the door. She jumped from the bed and pulled open the door to her chamber. "Not in yourself," he barked out over the sound of cloth sliding against cloth as he pulled something out of his closet. "Dress in the clothing I've given you. If you come through wholly unscathed, with nary a rent in your clothing..."
He did not continue, but Ranko caught his intent, as she examined her options in her closet. She had to agree. She was as displeased with the thought of the sadistic Kliza learning the truth about her. One Kodachi was bad enough. She needed to avoid the appearance of being a rune weapon, and thus, she had to seem less than indestructible.
Her task completed, she turned with some nervousness back to Distanfae's chambers. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw that he was dressed. Contrary to her half-formed expectation, he did not wear flowing robes. If anything, his appearance made her think more of a ninja. He was clad in tight-fitting black. In his belt were thrust several thin rods of various sizes, while his belt itself was formed into a series of pockets, which she could readily imagine holding poisons or drugs. A small crossbow hung by his left hand. All that would be needed to complete the picture would be a collection of shuriken and a mask.
In fact, aside from the obvious weaponry, it was not that dissimilar from the outfit the lecherous grandmaster of her art, Happosai, whose image and behavior she had used to defeat Kliza in their just passed battle of wills, wore on his panty raids. She herself had considered dressing similarly but apparently such garb was not common for female warriors, or at least, had not come to Distanfae's mind when he prepared the contents of her closet. She had settled for a simple outfit of tight pants of a light grey hue that were suprisingly flexible, an attribute she had tested with a quick series of kicks before settling on them, and a thick shirt in black and silver, the only shirt there that was actually sleeveless rather than merely short-sleeved. Thankfully it was also round-necked with only a slight scoop in the front. Modest but without impeding movement, it was still far enough from her desires as to cause her to make a mental note to fashion some new clothes before she had to go out again.
To complete the outfit, she formed bracers and leg guards of her own substance, actually flowing through the weave of the pants in a few spots rather than making a more visible connection around the edges.
Stepping up to his bed, she unfastened her belt, her face darkening at the thought of her erstwhile fiancee's probable reaction to her doing such beside the bed of a man. Shaking her head ruefully, she picked up the sheath he had carried her in, and slipped it onto her belt, then refastened it.
Holding her hand in the appropriate position to draw the blade, she formed the hilt in her hands, the sword extending from it to fill the sheath. Distanfae nodded appreciatively, noting in particular that her overall size had not so much as wavered as she gave some of her substance to the sword.
A thin band of silver trickled from where the hilt met the blade, sliding down the sheath and over the belt, through the weave of the cloth to her skin, allowing her to then disengage her hand from the hilt.
He looked her up and down then his eyes fixed on her chest. She felt a momentary urge to cover herself against his gaze, but held back. She would have to choose between disgust and dishonor if he demanded a sexual favor from her, so she by no means desired to draw more attention to the idea. She did send up a silent plea to the Kami. To her surprise, instead of reaching out to her, or making a comment about his later intentions, he questioned her lack of undergarments.
"My breasts don't shift about," she said. "I don't need them."
Distanfae shook his head. "That is exactly backwards, Ranko. Your breasts don't move, so without undergarments to explain their restraint, you will seem unnatural."
Ranko flushed and nodded, turning back to her room with a pout. She had been so pleased to realize that she would not need to wear them... Stripping off her top, she considered her options for a moment before taking up a cloth and wrapping her breasts tightly. She might not get away without wearing something, but at least a bandage was not overly feminine, and she could explain it away as being better for fighting if Distanfae should find it cause to question her. Silently she cursed at herself for not having thought to do it before. Distasteful as she found it, it was surely far better than ending up trapped with the sadistic Kliza, or reminding Distanfae that she had sworn to obey him in all things, even that. She suppressed a shudder.
She quickly finished dressing again and stepped back into his room, where she found him seated by his desk, a dark look on his face. She sat on his bed, facing him, and waited.
"I had hoped to have more time to prepare you," he said, his eyes dark with anger, though she could see that it was not directed at her.
"Don't worry," she answered. "I'm a great martial artist, and even if I don't prefer to use weapons, I am skilled with the katana. I won't fail you!"
"It is not a lack of prowess in arms that concerns me. First, you are not yet familiar with where we are, nor how to navigate down here. You'll probably have to use your quicksilver eyes just to see. We are underground, here. Far underground, and when we go hunting, it is in tunnels that wind and intersect like a maze. Sound behaves oddly and until you grow used to it, you won't be able to trust where a sound seems to be coming from. We carry no light with us in these tunnels, for light attracts predators and attention. We see well enough in the dark, but you are not yet fully adjusted to that. I hope your quicksilver will make up the difference."
Ranko nodded, hoping that her eyes would indeed function properly. Blindfighting when she could not trust her ears would not be fun at all. She remained silent though, listening with intent concentration on his lecture. She had no intention of failing him or herself. She had no desire to be wielded by Kliza.
He had paused in seeming thought for a long moment before shaking his head and walking into a side room that Ranko had not yet seen the inside of. She waited, wondering why he had cut off in the middle of what she had sensed was going to be a lecture. She had been forced to listen to enough of them from her father and the innumerable other quasi-authority figures that had plagued her to recognize the signs. He returned after a few moments and tossed her a ring of black metal set with a red gem.
"Don't absorb it just yet. Keep it handy. It is a darkvision ring; if your quicksilver eyes aren't sufficient, put it on your finger. If your vision doesn't improve, absorb it and activate its magic directly."
"More important, Ranko, is the sort of fight we're likely to face. First, and most important, kill no spiders!" He paused, searching her mind to be certain that she correctly identified and was familiar with the creature he was describing. "They are sacred to the goddess we worship here. Also, you must be circumspect. Use absolutely no shifting that can be avoided. We will be watched by the Matron the entire time. Remember that the darkness does not hide you here. Most creatures see heat, and in spite of being metal, you are warmed by your energy. More importantly, my magic masks the pattern of your heat, to make you look normal. To conceal yourself, you will have to use the shadow cloak, though I think there will be no need for that this time."
"The creatures that we might face out there often have special abilities or even magic. It is not a matter of a merely physical battle. Avoid looking into anything's eyes. Many creatures can stun or even kill with a met glance. I don't think such should affect you, but I would rather not find out in the middle of a fight. Many also attack with clouds of spores or gas. Those you can safely ignore, normally, for you are not vulnerable. However, in this fight we are trying to make you seem like an ordinary drow, which means you will have to avoid any such clouds, since you cannot reasonably imitate the effects without knowing what they are."
"I will be in your mind the entire time, to guide your understanding of what you see and here, to supplement your senses with my own, and to give you advice on whatever the Matron finds for us to battle. Eventually, you will probably learn to suppress your human instincts for avoiding danger or pain, given your invulnerability, but do not try to suppress them now! Hopefully they will lend some verisimilitude to your portrayal of mortality."
"One last item in particular. If we run across a floating sphere with a wide mouth, a single large eye, and numerous eyes on tentacles, avoid the gaze of the central eye at all costs! It is an anti-magic ray, suppressing magic within a conical region in its view. I don't know exactly what affect that would have on you. Generally it does not damage magical items, merely suppressing their power as long as they are in it... but if you freeze solid under its gaze, your nature will be immediately evident to Kliza and the Matron."
"Finally, don't suppress your killing instinct. I know you may be skilled enough to take down many foes without doing them any long-term damage, and we may well take advantage of that, later, to gain slaves. This time out, though, you cannot afford to show any signs of weakness, or Kliza will take immediate advantage of them."
---
It became quickly apparent to both Distanfae and Ranko that she still had a great deal to learn. Without the mental link he held open between them, she would quickly have shown their hand.
Her first and biggest shock was when they exited her new home. She had been quietly looking forward to getting 'outside.' Distanfae had told her they were underground, but the plainly stated fact held none of the emotional impact of stepping outside and seeing a vaulted cavern roof far overhead. Distanfae firmly suppressed her movement for the moment it took her to regain control of her urge to gawk.
It was by no means the last shock she would receive during their comparatively short trek through the city itself. Even before they exited the compound she had noticed movement on that far off ceiling and focusing on it, discovered to her amazement that it was produced by drow mounted... or perhaps belted was the more appropriate term... on the backs of large lizards.
Once they passed through a small gate that led into an empty alleyway, avoiding the main gates to shield their activities from the watchful eyes of the House's enemies, she was subjected to continued shocks and surprises. To this point, the only non-humans she had seen had been the small green-skinned servants. She could not count the drow in that number, they looked more human than not, differing only in their slender lines, the points of their ears, and the coloration of their skin, hair, and eyes.
Now she was quickly subjected to a dizzying array of sights. From seeing the lizards up close, ridden by proud drow in armor, to seeing humans led by in chains, accompanied in the same line by short, stocky figures that nonetheless looked mostly human, more of the twisted figures she had seen before, and larger, heavily muscled figures, all the non-drow she saw bore faces etched with pain, loss, or sorrow.
Elsewhere humans and other figures hurried by, eyes averted deferentially from the four drow, and in the distance her eyes caught a figure moving through the bustling crowds, a man that stood as tall above most of the crowd as they did above the ground.
Through it all Distanfae held her composure in his hands, guiding her reactions, and providing a running commentary of learning. Before they had passed three cross-streets, she had learned that the chained figures she had seen were not prisoners but slaves, that the short, brutish green-skins were a variety of goblin. The stocky figures she'd first seen were dwarves, captives from the surface. Others that she saw moving more freely, but with a dark skin like cold ashes, were duegar, dwarves native to this underground realm, sometimes allies of the drow, sometimes enemies.
The giant figure she had seen in the distance was exactly that, a cave giant, a slave to one of the Houses. Her own House, Distanfae's House, counted five cave giants in the ranks of its slaves, brutal, dull-witted, delighting in cruelty.
For all that she was learning, Ranko's demeanor revealed nothing to the watchful eyes of Distanfae's cold-hearted sister. It said much, however, to the keener sight of the watching Matron, looking through those same eyes through the magic the two drow females shared as priestesses of Lolth, their dark goddess.
Old though she was, Distanfae's mother was more observant than her other children. She recognized the face that Distanfae's warrioress wore. One of the House's servants. Perhaps she might have been tempted to believe the girl had been planted in the House by Distanfae, had she not herself been responsible for testing that girl's loyalty some months before, when she had been party to a ceremony to draw Lolth's favor. Fairly clever and reasonably pretty she had found the girl, but still a commoner, trained to household tasks and showing no signs of the trained ways of a warrior or priestess.
She also took note of the calm visage the fighter displayed, the way her eyes swept back and forth across the scene, but without the jerky motion of a watchful warrior, focusing on one potential threat after another. No, the motion was far too smooth for that. It almost... yes, it definitely reminded her of the gaze of someone whose eyes were being used by another. Not as she was even now using her daughter's eyes, for she was merely seeing what her daughter saw, leaving her daughter in full control, but as one who was using another as she might use a slave. There were spells that had a similar effect to this. They were less common than spells that let one see directly through another's eyes as if they were one's own, with or without the ability to control the other's movements and focus. The latter sort left one vulnerable to gaze attacks, such as the petrifying gaze of a basilisk, while the former, in which the vision seen by the subject was shown in a pool or a mirror, could be enchanted to break the connection when hit by such an attack.
Still, it was odd. She would have thought it Distanfae peering through her eyes had he not been there with them. She pondered the dilemma for a while before hitting on what she felt certain was the right answer. Almost she allowed a smile to cross her face. Deviously clever, Distanfae was, to find such an ingenious way of circumventing the usual limitations of those sorts of weapons. Her eyes narrowed, a frown furrowing her brow, as a further question occurred to her. Was it necessary that the subject's soul or mind be removed first, or had Kliza been at a real risk of becoming the sword's puppet when she sought to master it?
While the Matron watched and came to conclusions that though wrong were still surprisingly close to the truth, Kliza and Laermornan covertly watched Distanfae's chosen warrior. Neither recognized the servant her form was taken from, nor suspected more to her than a blatant attempt by Distanfae to retain control of the weapon their Matron had bid him create.
Nothing was said between the four as they made their way through the crowded streets, Kliza leading as they followed a path that would take them quickly to the city's edge, without traversing any of the larger ways that would expose them to scrutiny. Doubtless they were watched even on the course they chose, but so long as they avoided drawing too much attention, there was a strong chance it would be passed off as a band of nobles simply going out on a hunt for pleasure. Behind them followed just such a guard of drow soldiers, commoners all, as would accompany such an expedition.
They passed out of the city without incident, and as soon as they had entered the smaller tunnels, Ranko's silent introduction to the art of navigating by sound began, as Distanfae brought the sounds to her attention, telling her what each sound revealed to him. They had some time for this practice and training, for the tunnels in the city's near vicinity were regularly patrolled, and were therefore free of hazards other than the drow themselves, and the occasional outside incursion. No beasts laired within a several mile radius of the city, though beyond that various creatures lurked, their hunting grounds known and marked in the secret ways of the dark elves, so that while the drow knew how to avoid them, against any potential invader they served as an unwitting outer defense.
Ranko had been in natural caverns before, and so she was surprised by the rough but obviously unnatural tunnels she found herself in. Digging through solid rock is dangerous at the best of times, and she saw none of the wooden beams and bracings that she had seen in abandoned mines.
Her father being the greedy sort he was could not pass up an abandoned mine without checking to make sure no one had forgotten some wondrous treasure in it, a folly she had quickly recognized as such, since it was always his son that he sent in search of treasure, not deigning to take such risks with his own skin. In her opinion a mine would not be abandoned if it was still producing wealth. The idea that mines would hold riches sitting there for the taking had excited her the first time he had sent his son to search a mine, but she had been quickly disabused of the notion. So she was familiar with the sort of protections human miners put in place to ensure that they were not crushed in a wall or ceiling's collapse, and with the look of a cave-in where those protections proved insufficient.
Of course, it became obvious to her a moment later. These folk had a force on their side that none of the miners whose works she had seen had had available to them: magic.
Not all of the tunnels were so obviously hand-made. Occasionally they would pass into an natural cavern, often entering it behind the shielding bulk of a massive stalagmite, or through a passage that ran for a short distance perpendicular to the cavern wall, thinning until they had to walk single-file, and opening out where the cavern wall itself thinned into sudden non-existence. These odd, sideways entrances were practically invisible when Ranko looked back to see where she had been. She knew, with the distraction of her aural training, that she would not remember the way back were she to have to find it on her own.
Distanfae's attempts at training her were strongly aided by the fascination she quickly developed with the skill. She had been taught blind-fighting techniques before, though they had been more holistic, focusing as much on sensing where the opponent was, and feeling the motion of the air and the heat of the opponent, as on hearing his movements. Later, too, the use of ki-senses had been added, diluting the vitality of hearing alone still further.
Had her quicksilver eyes not let her see in even this pitch darkness, for none of them bore a light, she would doubtless have learned to navigate by sound more swiftly yet, but she would also have been exposed as heat-blind to Distanfae's siblings, which would have brought into question her semblance of a drow.
But being able to see even in the total absence of light did not reduce her enthusiasm for this new training, for Distanfae's examples quickly showed her that he could detect the approach of an adversary long before he could be seen, and know exactly where he was coming from, in spite of the strange way that sounds behaved in these limited environs.
She had been disbelieving of Distanfae at first. When a sound came that her ears told her was behind and above her, and he said that it was water dripping in a tunnel several hundred yards ahead, she had wondered what reason he had to mislead her. The way the sound's source changed as they moved forward convinced her otherwise, and the brief sight of ripples on the surface of water through a crack in a wall as they passed by had banished the last of her doubts.
His facility at identifying the sources and causes of the sounds they heard served to whet her appetite, but it was the sobering knowledge that until she learned this new skill she would not be able to trust her own ears lest they deceive her and cause her to fail this most important test that caused her to give Distanfae her full attention, less the slight awareness required to follow where Kliza led.
Distanfae informed Ranko when Kliza deliberately led them into one of the marked regions where danger lurked. He had not expected her to do this, since such creatures were usually left unmolested even by hunting parties. "She may have obtained information about an interloper in the area," he warned his champion.
In spite of this warning, the entire group was taken off-guard when the tunnel wall exploded outward, a massive claw on an armored forearm smashing Laermornan across the tunnel. Kliza whipped instantly into a series of backwards somersaults, putting herself behind her other brother, while the new weapon's wielder leapt forward. "An umber hulk," Distanfae cautioned Ranko mentally, "avoid its gaze." The beast was like a giant humanoid beetle to Ranko's eyes, heavily armored by a jointed exoskeleton apparently strong enough to smash through stone.
Kliza's troops held back and she showed no sign of concern over the probable demise of her two forward scouts, given their failure to warn the party. Her troops had been well briefed. They knew what they were there to see, what they had to do, the risks they ran, and the reward they might receive. They lacked only knowledge of Ranko and her skills.
Ranko had already surged forward. She leveled her sword at the beast that had emerged from the formerly solid wall and blasted it backward with a short-lived, high-pressure stream of water from her sword, courtesy of her elemental wand of water, preventing it from reaching Distanfae's brother with a second attack.
Having moved it out of the range of the others, she threw her sword to the side, a ray of black cold shining forth in the vision of the watching drow, as she sealed the rubble filled hole with a wall of ice. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she acknowledged Distanfae's advice. She leapt forward in a tight spin that whipped her around, giving her just a moment to look back past her creator and verify that nothing was coming up behind him, before she landed, facing the beast.
As the mild shock of landing coursed up her legs like a standing wave in still water, she let them fold beneath her, launching her into a forward roll that sent her smashing through the creature's legs, knocking it to the ground as she leapt back to her feet behind it, twirling in mid-air to face it. She saw the fresh marks on the wall beside it and realized that it had already recognized its peril and had been about to flee the conflict, though whether for good, or merely to seek another surprise attack, she could not tell.
It did not get the chance. With its face firmly planted in the stone floor, one firm sweep of the adamantine blade Ranko held sheared cleanly through armor and flesh alike, and the rounded head rolled forward. She stepped away as the oddly beetle-like body spasmed and then lay still. She cast her gaze back up the tunnel, seeing Laermornan only just beginning to struggle to his feet, two soldiers nervously offering aid that he had yet to accept, and Kliza sending a black gaze her way, while Distanfae looked both approving and slightly shocked. The rest of the soldiers had a sickly pale look about them that confused her. Surely they were not unfamiliar with battle? Would Kliza have trusted her life to untrained troops?
Only a few seconds had passed since the creature's surprise attack. Each of those watching had had a different perspective on what was happening, and therefore had distinctly different reactions. Distanfae knew that his chosen had never seen an umber hulk before, nor fought in this sort of an environment, nor made considerable use of magic before, so he was mostly in awe of her adaptability, that not only had she almost instinctively used a magical attack, she had even seen a strategic non-offensive use for the magic, and had not wasted a moment in figuring out an attack method that avoided the hulk's gaze attack.
Kliza was shocked at the skill the fighter had shown, and the sheer speed of the attack, though Ranko's speed had not been even close to what she had once been capable of. Even without making conscious use of her ki, she had been able to move faster than a human could see over short distances, and for short periods of time, but this body was slower than either of her old ones. Kliza, however, knew nothing of what speeds Ranko should have been able to attain, and was therefore suitably impressed by the speed she had seen. She was more interested, however, in the capabilities of the weapon itself. Water and ice were interesting enough, but either that sword was vorpal--magically keen-edged, that is, and capable of taking off even a magically armored limb with a good hit--or that female was unnaturally strong, given the near magical hardness of the umber hulk's armor. Since she did not look inordinately strong, Kliza assumed that either the weapon was vorpal or granted immense strength. Whichever it was, Kliza's desire for the weapon, and her corresponding dislike of Ranko and anger at Distanfae, had grown in proportion to the visibly increased worth of the weapon.
Laermornan was still smarting from the crushing blow he had been dealt--and from the blow the umber hulk had just dealt him, of course--when Distanfae had informed him that the sword granted no skill, and so this commoner had in fact defeated him. He did not believe it. To be certain, he, being a male drow in a matriarchal drow society, had no illusions about the relative abilities of males and females. No, his problem was in his belief in the inherent superiority of drow nobility over the common rabble. Seeing the girl strike off an umber hulk's head in a single swipe confirmed for him his opinion. The strength to do that had to have come from the sword, for she looked considerably less strong than Kliza. There was no question that the ice--he had not seen the blast of water that first knocked the umber hulk away from him, being at that point in considerable pain--had come from the sword. Logically then, her skill came likewise. Damn his brother, it should have been obvious that he was the appropriate wielder for the sword. Such a weapon did not belong in the hands of a commoner.
Matron Vitrue, watching from her throne room within their House, saw what Kliza saw and came to nearly the same conclusions. She did not waste time considering strength, it being obvious to her that the girl had not put any great force behind the blow. She made note of the ice-wall and the blast of water. Unlike Kliza and Laermornan, she had access to Distanfae's notes on the creation of his device, though he knew it not, and while much of the arcana was beyond her, for she was a priestess, not a wizard, she did understand clearly enough his obvious intentions to endow his creation with abilities taken from other items. So she took careful note of the nature of the abilities shown, and their behaviors and limits, that in time she might find what he had copied them from, and know their capabilities and inabilities in full.
---
Beneath the small troupe, who were once more traveling, having dealt with the corpse and the three umber hulks that had ambushed them again only a few hundred yards along, apparently part of the same group that the first had belonged to, a great xorn moved through the ground.
Ten feet tall and equally wide, the tri-symmetric creature nonetheless passed through the stone without so much as a ripple to mark its passage. Unlike the umber hulks, which carved through solid rock as fast as they could walk, digging side passages to established tunnels and waiting in ambush to obtain flesh to eat, the xorn was an outsider, a being from the elemental plane of earth that had sometime ago passed by accident through a portal and been stranded here on the relatively mineral poor material plane.
That was unfortunate for it, for xorns feed on metal and a variety of natural crystals, including gems, both of which are exactly the sorts of things that mortals spend so much effort extracting out of the bedrock of the material plane.
Trapped in the equivalent of a sparse landscape that had been but recently hunted out, hunger was the xorn's constant companion, though the increased proportion of magical metals in its diet had hastened its growth in spite of the relative lack of food. It would have taken little comfort in knowing that its flesh was harder than it had been, its teeth stronger, its three arms more powerful, its eyes farther-seeing, for constant hunger and loneliness are a heavy price to pay.
So it was in no mood to be charitable when after several days skirting the edges of the magically defended drow city, where it could sense much metal, but could not enter, it detected a great mass of mixed metals in the company of a few flesh-things. It had been nearly six days since the last similar meal had passed, a heavily guarded shipment of metal from a distant dwarven city that had fallen prey to its hunger, and it was by no means willing to pass up an equal meal even less well-guarded.
Neither the three drow nobles remaining, two of whom were sulking over Ranko's easy defeat of the three umber hulks that had attacked them shortly after her first victory, and the other, who was angry that the first two refused to concede the point proven and return, nor the eighteen remaining drow commoners--the two scouts having never shown up again--were in the least prepared when the pebbled green body of the unusually massive xorn burst upwards from beneath them, knocking many from their feet and into each other, as the nine-foot wide jaws swallowed Ranko whole.
All three nobles moved to attack as soon as they were able, Kliza directing her soldiers to do likewise, knowing the anger they would face on their return if they lost the weapon on what was supposed to be a mere trial venture, but the xorn had grown used to hit-and-run tactics from attacking dwarven and gnomish mining caravans, since both races were quite deadly in defense of their hard-won minerals, and had not even slowed its motion, passing directly into the ceiling and out of sight.
Ranko had barely a moment to even realize that something was happening before jaws had risen all about her and she found herself staring at stony flesh that pressed against her as the beast swallowed. Her first impulse was simply to pass through the shadows and out of the beast, but she suppressed it. Nothing should be able to hurt her, so she might as well take it out while it could not defend itself against her. Furthermore, she was protected, at the moment, from the watchful eyes of her creator's siblings.
A moment after her decision was made, she was dropped into a slightly less cramped area, which had liquid oozing from the walls. Ignoring it, she raised her left hand, about which the purple light of her inner power shone, flashing into a semi-solid crystalline shape surrounding it. The point of the crystal lengthened, giving the appearance of a blade not unlike that which she still held in her right hand. Though she had managed to make use of the few lessons Distanfae had yet given her on the use of the wands in her, she did not want to depend on that uncertain resource when by merely taking the extra moment needed to draw up her quicksilver energy, she could have an extremely flexible power ready to hand, one that meshed well with her life's experience with ki, especially since he had only had time so far to give her lessons on a few of the abilities of three of her wands. After all, she had no idea what she was now facing, much less whether the few abilities she currently knew how to access, namely fire, ice, and water, in their simplest manifestations, would be appropriate or effective.
Ignoring the muted rumble of the creature's responsive indigestion, she looked downward, where the amethyst light was drawing a glimmering response from below the pooling liquid's surface. A slow grin crossed her lips as she realized she was still using her quicksilver eyes, and so could see the emanations of magic. She sheathed her sword, then reaching down, she drew up the source of the light and frowned in disappointment. It was no magical item, but merely an unworked vein of metal glowing softly in the stone that surrounded it. Shrugging, she tugged at the magic, then stopped abruptly. The quicksilver faded from her eyes as she lapsed back to normal vision before giving a cry of delight.
Blue! The vein of metal or ore, or whatever it was, was blue even beneath the glow, which itself still persisted, mixing with the purple light emanating from her other hand to yield a purplish-azure illumination. It was not quite the stormy blue her eyes had been, but certainly a lot closer than the green or red or silver that were her only real options till now. Her hand flowed about the stone, then the stone dropped through the dark mass, an empty hole passing through it. Still grinning in delight, she reformed her hand and extinguished the amethyst blade, pulling out her real sword with a hand that had a blue glow shining from the palm. She had taken too long, she felt, to waste more time exploring, though she held no regrets considering what she had found. Still, best to get this over with before Distanfae became too worried, since either this creature's hide or something else was keeping him from speaking to her. Perhaps he simply didn't want to distract her. Either way, no reason to keep him waiting.
She thrust the sword deeply into the stony wall, smirking at the occasional sparks that lit up the dark. As she pulled the sword across, quicksilver flowed back over her eyes. She ignored the pained scream that sounded. "Whatever you are," she smirked, "You made a big mistake when you swallowed me." Drawing the blade out, she struck again, putting more power into her strokes.
She was not in the least expecting the consequences of her actions. The xorn had been passing through the stone as it sought to digest her, and when she finally damaged it enough to kill it, it came into full alignment with the plane, becoming embedded inside and out in the stone through which it had been moving. One moment she was stabbing and slicing, the next, held rigid, and seeing nothing.
This time she had no qualms about using the darkness to her advantage, and she gratefully allowed the shadows to swallow her. As soon as she was within the shadows, though, she realized that her clothing had not made the journey with her. Quickly she formed a long skein of cloth and rebound her breasts, then formed clothing as close to what she had had as she could manage to recall. Thankfully, the clothing she had chosen before had been black and silver and thus was easily within her abilities. Still within the shadows, she quickly mimicked several holes in her clothing, as if eaten at by acid, and thin spots on her boots, then returned to her companions. She fell into their midst, thankfully dry, the acidic digestive fluids having been absorbed by the dry stone just like her clothing. Though she managed to avoid hitting anyone, the suddenness of her appearance and the force of her impact with the stone beneath her caused a number of the drow to lose their balance, sending several of them falling into the others around them, or onto the floor.
Kliza rolled back to her feet and spun to face the upstart sword-bearer, infuriated at having been sent sprawling a second time. That the first had been no fault of Ranko's and the second technically caused by the soldier who had fallen onto her meant nothing to her. Matron Vitrue had informed her that she had seen enough, which meant it was time for the final test. She backed up through the ranks of her soldiers as they quickly reformed, and she threw her hand forward, even as Laermornan dragged a dazed Distanfae out of the way.
"Kill her," Kliza screamed.
Distanfae shook his head, hearing his sister's cry, and concentrated. "Ranko," he said through their link. "You must kill them. Hold back nothing. It is another test."
Ranko gave no acknowledgement. She merely blurred forward, a whirlwind of swiftly-dealt death. She showed no hesitation but she did evince mercy. Every blow she dealt was a killing blow, every soldier dropped after one hit, dead before they hit the ground, dead before they realized. Dead, before they had time to feel pain.
Kliza said nothing after the slaughter ended. Ranko held her silence as well, on Distanfae's orders. Finally Kliza spoke. "The Matron Mother is satisfied. She has commanded we return."
In truth, Vitrue's command had not been predicated on any aspect of the demonstration, but rather on the nature of the xorn's attack. Vitrue was not unfamiliar with xorns and knew well that they rarely attacked mortals except when very hungry. Moreover, she knew the reason: xorns cannot digest flesh, only metals and gems, and attack only when very hungry, and only to obtain whatever metals a party might have. To swallow the warrior whole implied that the conclusion she had earlier drawn about the girl was incorrect. The girl was not merely someone he had mind-burnt so that the sword could control her, with her as its puppet. No, that girl must have simply served as a model for the golem he had crafted, and so it was that golem which served as the weapon's puppet.
Once more she silently applauded her son's invention. Doubtless the soul of the warrior he had bound to the weapon--she, unlike her daughter, was well aware of the true nature of rune weapons, and would never have tried to simply force her will on it, as one must do with an ordinary intelligent weapon--had been female, as was only to be expected, and so he had crafted a body that would be pleasing to it. The sword had probably been displeased about having been separated from its body when it had been brought before her, which would explain its rather violent reaction to Kliza's ill-fated attempt to master it.
Yes, it made sense. A golem body made of metal--adamantite, she assumed--would be far less vulnerable to the sorts of attacks intelligent opponents would make when facing someone with an invulnerable weapon. Sleep, charm, poison, even mental attacks would likely fail against it, since they would be directed at the mindless golem and not the intelligent, souled sword. Yes, her son had indeed done well--but it was time to take control of this weapon for herself. He would soon learn that no amount of skill would suffice to keep it under his control now that she knew the truth.