In The Service of the Drow


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.