Seeding Midnight, Part Nine(a)

                                 ==SEEDING MIDNIGHT, PART 9(a)===

He fell. For the second time in his life, he felt a yawning chasm pull him down, down into the unknown. Even with his underdark-adjusted eyes, the darkness of this new abyss was something else, total, enfolding.
He landed on something soft, sticky and bouncy. He felt Thrali thud down not far away, the material vibrating with their twin impacts. He felt around, his hands not liking the texture of what he felt. He had a pretty good idea of what it might be, but in this total darkness he couldn’t be sure. “Thrali?” He shouted. “A torch would be a really good idea about now.”

“Hang on! Trying to pull it out of the pack...”

He looked up, trying to get some ray of illumination from where they came. A distant point of light, glimmering above like a single star in a cavernous sky, cast few beams down this far. How far had they fallen anyway?  He coughed, his breathing becoming more ragged. He’d adjusted somewhat to the different air quality and pressure of the Underdark, but this place was even worse. What was it Agara had called it? The Deep Dark? He’d never even heard of such a place. He prayed that whatever Gods of light existed could hear him still, even in this place of absolute blackness. He felt terribly alone and afraid, and his eyes widened, trying to make out any sort of shape or figure in the abyss around him.

Suddenly, a spark, almost blinding him, as Thrali was able to ignite her torch. He looked around, shuddering at what the thin pitch-flame illuminated.

They were in a massive web. Huge gossamer strands, as thick as curtains, climbed the slick stone walls around them. Jagged bones were meshed heavily in the sticky floor around them. The web seemed to be at least several feet deep, layered over countless years. He looked around, seeing a huge, winding tunnel curving off to the side of one wall, a black hollow in the sheer walls of the pit around them.

“We best get moving, and fast. Don’t want to be caught here when the Driders come.” Relan whispered. He regretted shouting to Thrali now, in the darkness. Sound had a way of echoing in these deep places.
Thrali nodded, carefully holding the torch high so it didn’t ignite the web, and they scrambled over the thick web, each step sending vibrations, requiring them to lift and heave their legs with great effort.
Finally, they made it free, though their legs and feet were coated in thick gossamer threads. Thrali began to  pat herself her down one-handed, but Relan shook his head.

“We don’t have time for that. We best get moving as fast as possible. Gods know what the guards above are doing.”
Thrali nodded, reluctantly, though as they began to scramble down into the black hollow, hands and feet clutching at slick, slimy crevices for purchase, Thrali couldn’t resist whispering to him. “Aren’t you cold in that loincloth?”

Relan turned his head carefully, shooting her a quizzical look. “Sorry. Just...it’s good to see you again. I thought you’d be tortured or worse.”

“Thrali, dear, do we have to do this now?” He whispered, trying to focus on carefully clambering along this rough hewn tunnel.  Drips of water ran slickly down from the ceiling, stalagmites and stalactites rising like jagged teeth around them.  He gripped on to them carefully, surprised at how smooth the stone was. He was thankful now that his legs were coated in the thick gossamer, protecting his feet and bare legs from too many cuts and scrapes.

He gritted his teeth whenever he reached out and accidentally scraped his hand along a patch of rougher stone, feeling ever so much worse than sandpaper. “How far do you think we have to go?”

“Miles, I think. I’ve been down into the Deep Dark before, most house-slaves with a hankering for freedom do, and there are plenty of entrances from above. But I’ve never been by this way. And most don’t go too far. There’s Driders down here, but also rumours of much worse.”

“Thank you for telling me this now.” He whispered, shuddering.  A faint, whistling breeze scoured through the tunnel, stirred up by something, somewhere. It felt like cold breath on him, and his skin tingled with goose bumps.
Finally the tunnel levelled out into something walkable, though the ceiling began to slope down, pressing in on them, making things tight and claustrophobic.  Relan breathed in and out steadily, focusing on every step in front of him, trying not to let visions of being crushed deep beneath the earth flash through his mind.
Thrali came up close behind him, the torch’s brightness searing them, the smoke staining the aged rock as they clambered. It might soon become too narrow to carry the torch properly.

After what seemed like an eternity, the narrow tunnel finally opened out, and they could hear a distant roaring. Water, perhaps. Did it come from above, or was it a churning river that would sweep them even further below?
Thrali hoisted her guttering torch carefully as she stepped free of the tunnel, shining it into this new opening.  This space was narrow, like a small room, but the walls sloped up again, sheer, stretching like a cathedral up into nothingness above.  Water dripped regularly from above, sputtering whenever a stray drop hit Thrali’s torch.
“I don’t like this place.” She whispered to him. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

They found a narrow winding path that twisted upwards, bare jagged rocks that dug and cut at his already bruised feet. If not for the gossamer, he would be in total agony now, unable to walk or move.  “If I can’t move, Thrali, I want you to-“
“Don’t finish that sentence. I’m not leaving you behind. I need you to show me the surface, remember?”
He nodded, grimly. It was true. They needed each other to even have a hope of surviving the escape. If either of them fell, it would be the end for both of them.

Thrali strapped her torch reluctantly to the top of her pack, carefully ensuring the flaming brand stuck up above the dampened leather.  They needed the light to climb, but they needed both hands free to navigate ahead. “I’d give anything for a dwarven lantern-helmet right now...” He mumbled to himself.

Slowly, carefully, both hands stretched out ahead, feeling for cracks, crevices, handholds, they half-scrambled, half-climbed, shimmying sideways as the path coiled ever upwards, moving partly like crabs, partly like...spiders.
After a while, Relan risked a glance downwards. They must be a hundred feet above where they first came out now, he decided. His chest burned with effort, but he couldn’t stop now. He looked ahead, and could see the dim glow of luminescent fungus. Another tunnel, winding upwards.  A way out, perhaps?  The path was now almost purely vertical, and every step was taken with extreme, shaky care. No ropes, no picks. A fall here would be instantly lethal. He gently applied his feet to every new handhold, testing the weight carefully before proceeding. His muscles were on fire, screaming with pain.

Finally, they both made it to the top, slumping exhausted into a narrow crook at the base of this new tunnel.  “We should take a break, consume some water. Anyone coming from below will be very visible to us here.” He whispered.
She nodded, reluctant to stop, but even her constitution exhausted by the effort. She opened her pack, setting the torch- now barely flickering- on the floor beside them. The presence of glowing fungus made their torch situation less dire, but the gloom still felt deeply oppressive. He hoped nothing in the tunnel ahead could see or hear them.

They sat for several minutes, regaining their breath. He sipped delicately on the water-skin she had brought, and gulped down several bites of stale mushroom bread. It tasted awful, nothing like the rich, exotic foods he had sometimes been treated to by the Matron.  But then, he remembered, this was probably what people like Agara ate every day.

He looked across at Thrali, as she carefully nibbled a small hunk of bread herself, mindful of the need to conserve what they had. He wished he could share some of his portion with her, meagre as it was, but he knew she’d refuse. Such chivalry was a wasted gesture here.
“So...what happened with Mis- I mean, the Matron?” She said, still finding it difficult to shake the habits of a lifetime, of constant deference to her owner.

Relan looked around, at this cramped, darkened place, at the gloom above. It fit his mood, as it all came back in a sudden, heady flash. He felt himself struggling to breathe, the heavy weight of it all constricting him.
“Ah...I’m sorry. I...had to leave Izzara.” He buried his face in his hands. “Gods, I’m such an idiot. I left her, and I left her monster of a mother alive. I thought...I thought I was  sparing Izzara more pain, but now...” He banged his head gently against the hard rock. Even so, it hurt.

Thrali said nothing, her eyes betraying no emotion. She regarded him clinically.
“I...I cannot express how I feel, for your help, for everything, Thrali. I don’t know if this is love or what. But I know also that Izzara did love me, in her own way. Maybe it was the childish infatuation of a young girl for a stranger, but even that sort of emotion made her different. Made her...worth saving. I should have tried harder to bring her with us. I can’t imagine what her mother will do to her, now.”

“Izzara was...born with a spark of kindness in her.” Thrali said, carefully. “Some say it was a weakness she inherited from her father.  When she was little, it is said, a Drider used to come to sing lullabies to her. It made her mother very angry.  Yet I think even the Matron had such a spark once, or longed for it at least. Perhaps that was why she chose Izzara’s father. Perhaps that is why she...chose you.”

Relan looked at Thrali sadly, trying to imagine how she must feel about the situation. “I promise that when we’re free, on the surface, you’ll never have to...”
“Never what? Watch you serve another woman? Can you promise me your heart so quickly?”
“I meant...you would be free. To do what you want, to go where you will.”
“And what if what I want is to follow you?” tears threatened to spill from Thrali’s eyes.
“Then I will do my utmost to guide us somewhere good, somewhere safe.” He promised, looking deep into her eyes.
They sat in silence, the echo of water dripping and the crackle of the torch the only sound in that dark place.


The tunnel proved less steep and less narrow than the ones before, though Relan wound some strips of spare cloth from Thrali’s pack around his bruised, gashed hands and legs to try and minimise further pain. He grit his teeth as they ascended in darkness, the torch extinguished, only the glow of outcrops of fungus to light their way.
His eyes adjusted to the constant gloom, and he could see a levelling ahead. They exited into a vast cavern, vast enough perhaps to be part of the Underdark.  Above, glimmering like stars, were narrow, vast and distant satalctites of glowing crystal, points of light in the false sky of the huge underground world that was the Underdark.

“Are we out? Is this the Underdark at least?”
“I’m not sure.  I’d judge we can’t be more than a mile or two away from the Xorlarrin Estate if we are.”
Thrali strode ahead, cresting a ridge, carefully crouching low so as not to be silhouetted when she reached the top. He slunk up behind her, and gazed out onto the vast Manor estate in the distance. He had seen it from the outside only once, but never quite like this. A huge mesh of jagged towers, broad, smooth domes and small courtyards pockmarked the estate. In wide, undulating fields around it were neat rows of mushrooms and cave-lichen, carefully being cultivated by distant figures.

“So...that’s home.” Thrali said, awed.
“It needn’t be home anymore.”
She turned, looking at him.
“No, you’re right. We’re free.” She smiled, broadly, perhaps for the first time in a long time.
“I think I know the way from here to where caravans go for the surface. Come on, let me show-“
A shadow fell over them, and Thrali’s words died in her throat. Something huge, looming over them, sneaking up from behind.
Relan spun, his fists ready to strike this new enemy.
His fists thudded into hard, reinforced chitin, a massive black thorax that loomed over him. A Drider.
He looked up, up into six glowing red eyes, set in a twisted, maniacal drow’s face.  Two shorter frontal legs swept out, grabbing him, sharp edges cutting across his back as he was clutched hard against the thorax.
“No! Let him go!” Thrali cried.

“Little bug, Little bug, so tasty and small, Little bug little bug, don’t you fall.” The Drider sung to itself, a mad lullaby escaping from thin lips.
It quickly scuttled over Thrali, huge powerful legs pinning her, as it began to slowly and methodically spray gossamer from its spinneret, muffling her cries.
“No! Don’t hurt her! Please, take me but not her!” Relan desperately pleaded, hammering against the chitin, thrashing in the drider’s tight grip.
“Little bug, why do you cry? Little bug, little bug, don’t you know it’s warm inside?” The drider cackled, thick mucus drooling from its lips.

“By Tyr’s might and Lathander’s light, I swear, if you don’t let us go...” He kicked out, slamming against the hard thorax, but using the propulsion to break free of its tight grip, sending him sprawling down the ridge, scattering dust and dirt everywhere, choking him.

The Drider bore down on him, its mouth stretching to impossible proportions, huge fangs breaking free from its distended jaw, sinking deep into his flesh.
He tried to scream, but a wave of numbness spread across him,  and he felt the blackness rushing up to cover him as he passed out.
“Little bug...Little bug...” The drider’s voice echoed in his mind, as he fell into unconsciousness.

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