Seeding Midnight, Part Nine (b)

Cold. Wet. Dark. Water splashed down onto his face from somewhere up above. A steady drip that slowly awakened him.  He didn’t know how much time had passed, or when he had first awoken from his deep sleep. He couldn’t move his arms, or see anything in front of him. He was completely encased in thick, soft gossamer, like being wrapped up tight in duvets. Or a straitjacket.

Straining at the fibres that bound his arms, he could get no purchase, and struggling only seemed to bind it tighter. He closed his eyes, though it made no difference. Everything was darkness. His heart hammered in his chest. He needed to get out. Get free. This was like being buried alive.

“Hey! Somebody! I need help!” He shouted with futility. His voice echoed, indicating he was in some sort of cavern. Memories came flooding back, and he groaned as he realised just how screwed he was.
“Hey! Thrali! You out there?!”  It was a desperate plea. Gods, please don’t let us be separated, He thought.  He didn’t want to die alone.

“Thrali?!” His voice echoed painfully around the chamber.  He heard something stirring in the distance, the slow crumbling of rock and the deeply unnerving tap-tap-tapping of something skittering around.
He cursed himself for panicking, for drawing attention to himself, but there was nothing else he could do. He was bound, immobilised. He was going to die here.

“Relan..” a voice, distant, soft. Hers.
“Thrali! Where are you?” A stupid question, but he needed to keep her talking. Anything to restore some shred of hope.
“Where...are...we?” She seemed groggy, distant. He heard the skittering growing louder, echoing taps that rang through the cavern. He squirmed, trying to gain some leverage, straining his arms.  He was able to move his arms up and down within the binds, but what use would that be?

“Stay calm! I’ve got this!” He lied, trying to suppress his own panic. What the hell was he going to do?
In the distance, he began to make out the faint outline of something massive. Six glowing red-eyes gave him a rough clue as to where it was, and where it was was scuttling overhead.

“Little bug, don’t you squirm...” It hissed, a heavy breathy voice that seemed to boom from everywhere. A huge mass seemed to clamber its way down, drool dripping from its twisted mouth, heavy, spindly limbs digging into the rock around it, holding it high above him. It leaned forward, joints clicking, ready to bite him again.
It was then that he remembered the dagger he had taken from the Matron, still attached to the back of his belt somewhere. He cursed his terrible memory. Why had he forgotten the weapon? Perhaps he had blocked it because he’d used it to cut the matron’s finger off, and he hadn’t wanted to dwell too much on Izzara’s eyes when he’d done so.
He slid his hands slowly, impercetibly, down the side of his body, feeling for the handle of the dagger, concealed so carefully in the belt.  The creature slid down further, its eyes burning into his own, its slavering maw dripping foul ichor onto his face and body.

“Little bug....you look so...tasty...”
“NO! Stop! In the name of Izzara, your true little bug, do not eat that man!” Thrali shouted, suddenly, with as much command as she could muster.
The creature paused, cocking its head. An acrid bead of ichor dropped right onto his nose, making Relan choke and cough. It stank like ammonia.
“You use this name? How bugs come by this name?”
“I am Thrali, First Handmaiden to the Lady Izzara, daughter of Matron Xorlarrin. You are Karlarin, Sire of Izzara and former Mate of the Matron, are you not?”
The creature shifted its massive bulk, swinging away from Relan, turning its attention towards Thrali’s prone form in the near distance.

Using this opportunity to its maximum, the human adventurer quickly began thrashing and bucking with all his might, finally managing to get a firm grip on the dagger’s handle, though his arm was painfully contorted to do so.  He slid the dagger ever so carefully out of its niche inside the belt, feeling the sharp metal cool against his skin. He winced, trying to manhandle the dagger to dig into the gossamer strands binding him.

“Youuuu lie. Why would a handmaid escape with a man-creature? Disobedient little bug...”
“It is truth! I know that you used to sing lullabies to my young mistress. That you comforted her when she cried from the beatings. That she used to ask you to bring her rare plants from the Deep Dark, and tell her about the world above...” Thrali’s voice faltered, as the drider loomed over her now, its ichor dangling beads mere inches from her face.

“Bugs chatter! Gossip! You know nothing.” It hissed, a long throaty rattle of anger building within it.
“I know also that even as we speak the Matron is giving away your daughter like a common whore to the wizard of House Faen Tabbar! Go even now and you’ll find her weeping again!”
The creature roared, shaking the cavern, and little specks of dust fell from the ceilings. “How dare you! How dare bugs...How dare she...It cannot be true!” It skittered up the walls, up high, before falling back down with a heavy thud, agitated, enraged.

“It’s true!” Relan spoke up, even as he felt the dagger cutting into the fibres binding his hands. A little more...
“If you go now you may find her weeping in her room. Ask her about what her mother did to her, made her do with a common slave.” A risky gamble, provoking it this way, but what other options did they have?
It roared. “She...She would not do this. She promised. She made me promise, I made her promise in return...” It sounded almost normal, an Elven voice breaking from grief. “Always she was gentle...my little bug...not tasty, no, but kin...” It skittered about; heavy limbs thudding as it meandered, clawing at its head, alternating between sobs and growls.

Feeling the last threads snap, Relan carefully eased his arms out behind him, keeping hold of his dagger.
“Go now, Karlarin, your daughter needs you again. Sing to her, soothe her pain. Ask the Matron what has occurred! She cannot lie to you.” Thrali said; her voice steady despite her own fear.
The creature rounded on the bound half-orc, shoving its maw into her face. “If you lie...If a single word from your chattering bug mouth is untrue...” It dragged one of its razor-sharp forelimbs gently across her face, causing her to shudder with pure revulsion. “Your deaths will be slowwww. I’ll eat both you bugs alive, no sleep toxin.” It hissed.

It quickly began to scamper up the sides of the wall, determined. “I will return. Bugs will stay safe here now, yes?” It chuckled to itself, before disappearing up into a hole in the centre of the cavern’s ceiling.
When its skittering echoes had died away, Relan quickly sprang into action, sawing away at the rest of the gossamer strands around his legs. “Stay calm Thrali. By Mask that was some amazing honey you poured into the things ears...” He scrambled over the rocky floor, his hands and feet squelching in other gossamer threads and other things not worth dwelling on.

Crunching over a pile of bones, he quickly found Thrali as she led him to her with her voice.
“Thank the gods...” She wept openly. “I thought we were both doomed for sure.”
“Alive or dead, we do this together.” He promised, quickly hacking away at her cocoon.
“Now come on, let’s get going before that drider comes back.” He hauled her to her feet, doing his best to dust away the last shreds of webbing.
“Any idea where the hell we are?”
“I’m sure we can’t be too far from where we were last. Remember that twisting, spiral cave? I’m pretty sure that’s right above us. Damn thing must have watched us, waited till we got to the underdark’s surface before ambushing us.”

Trying to ignore the countless cuts, bruises, and searing pain in his shoulder where the creature bit him, Relan hobbled up the slippery cavern, dragging Thrali along, kicking aside bones and squelchy things as he did so. “Don’t look down. Don’t think about what or who else was in here.” He said through gritted teeth.

It felt like an agonising eternity before they had clambered to the surface again. Their pack was gone with all its supplies, but he and Thrali’s eyes were adjusting to the gloom of the Deep Dark, and Relan’s hunch proved correct. It wasn’t far to where they had spent an hour or more scrabbling to the surface.  It had been exhausting when they’d been mostly fit, but now they were starving, weakened, exhausted. How long had they been slumbering in the Drider’s lair?

“Hey...was what you said about that drow wizard marrying Izzara true?”
The half-orc looked at him askance. “Jealous? Here? Now? You are truly amazing-“
“No! I mean...well...”
“I do not think she is marrying him right now, no. But he was the noble who was coming to visit when she foolishly decided to spend a night in your company.”
He yelped in pain as he put too much weight on his foot. “Ah! This is so not going to work...”
“Here, let me carry you. I’m Half-Orc, remember? Strength is our thing.” She weakly joked, though in truth she looked even more frail and exhausted than he did. Still, he couldn't refuse her offer, being barely able to walk as it was.

Gently she hauled him up on to her back, both of them suppressing their pain. "Are you sure..."
"Yes. sure. Shutup." She said through gritted teeth. He really was heavy. But it was the only way.
They continued on in weary silence. Relan rested his head on her shoulder, which made Thrali smile.

Finally, they saw the glittering lights of the Underdark again. It almost made him sob, to see those distant, glowing crystals. It reminded him so painfully of the night sky. How far still did they have to go? They had barely covered a mile, of treacherous, slippery, pitch-black cavern with only the faint glow of fungi to give them any hope or help.  They were exhausted, deprived of supplies, injured, and the gods alone knew how far it was to any entrances to the surface world above. How many leagues of similar caverns might they pass through? How many Driders, Beholders, Umber Hulks, Brain Devourers, Derrows and Deurgar stood between them and that final vista of true light?

“Lets...rest awhile.” He gasped. Even though he had been the one partly carried, he felt his whole body throbbing, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming.
Thrali dropped him onto the black cave-soil, as they panted desperately for breath.  “I would kill for some water...” She moaned. “I fear I cannot carry you much further.”
“We have so far to go...Do we have any hope? Maybe we should throw ourselves on the mercy of Xorlarrin’s guards. Maybe she’d go easy on you.” Relan said, sadly, though in truth he felt even this was a fig-leaf of hope too much. No, if he knew the Matron, her rage towards both of them would be white-hot. It would be debatable if being eaten by a mad drider or her tender attentions was the worse death.

“Even if we die, I am proud to die in your company, Relan.” Thrali said with conviction. “All my life I have been trained to serve as a toy for our masters.  I tried to tell myself that this was no bad life, that there were those who had it worse. Pretending to be stupider than I was seemed easy, a game almost. But you are nothing like those here. You were born Free, raised free. Your every action, word and deed screams the freedom you have tasted. Even they know it, and they crave it, for they are themselves slaves in more subtle ways.” She laughed, bitterly.
He sat beside her, putting his arm around her comfortingly.

“When I sought the treasures of the Undermountain, I never thought I would find you.” He said truthfully. “Maybe it was inevitable, given all that’s happened, that we would be drawn so close. I don’t care. You’ve kept me sane, given me purpose. A reason beyond myself to keep going. When I fell down here, I wanted to die, convinced that everything I used to be was lost. When the Matron took me, I thought it was a pleasant enough punishment. But in time I came to realise how real this life is. Being played with as a toy might be nice for a few weeks, but a lifetime without agency? Worse, knowing that if they grow bored with you, you will be discarded....” He shook his head. “You showed me the way. I only wish we could have brought Izzara with us. She deserves a shot at freedom too.”
They gazed out over the distant fields and the rising shape of the Xorlarrin Manor.  She nestled into his side, leaning her head on his uninjured shoulder. “I love you, Relan Bauer of the Surface.”
“I love you, Thrali of the Underdark.”

They sat there for a while, briefly uncaring what came of them. Live or die, they were together now. Too exhausted to flee, it would only be a matter of time before a guard patrol found them. At least, he thought, it can't be worse than getting eaten by a Drider. Can it?

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The guards dragged them in chains before the Matron, who sat coldly in her throne room, her face in shadow. She wore her full regalia, a snake-whip coiled in her grip. Relan simply lay on the ground, too tired and broken to move. They had been rough, bringing them in, but he would endure. None of it mattered now.

“You.” Xorlarrin’s voice was pure ice, cutting through the air.
“And You.” Thrali was thrown down beside him, her tunic torn, her back scarred with the welts of the guard’s whips. He was thankful only that they had not raped her. He feared such a torture might come to them soon. He hoped to goad Xorlarrin into killing them before that happened.

“Never have I seen...such insolence.” She hissed, eerily reminisicient of the Drider.
“I have thought long and hard how to...repay you for your insolence.” She raised her hand. Three fingers and one stump. “No Slave in a hundred years has ever DARED strike me, but you...YOU...” She strode from her throne, whip dangling loose in her other hand. “I could FLAY your FLESH from YOUR BONES and STILL IT WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH!” She roared, kicking him in the face with a pointed boot, sending him sprawling onto his wounded back.
He coughed, blood leaking from cracked lips.

“You were shit in bed. Matron? Even your virgin daughter was a better shag.” He leered.
Xorlarrin’s face flashed crimson with pure apoplexy, and she raised her whip, bringing it down with breaking force onto his chest. He screamed in pain.
“SUCH INSOLENCE!  ARE ALL SURFACE-DWELLERS SO IMPUDENT? I WILL BURN THE LANDS CLEAN OF VERMIN...” She brought her whip round again, scything into his face, almost blinding him as an ugly welt formed around his right eye.
“Please...spare him, Mistress...I led him astray...”Thrali croaked, desperate.
“No! The Bitch was mine. One taste of my cock and she became my slave, not yours.” Relan tried.

Xorlarrin simply grinned, pure malice radiating from her now. “So....Izzara was right. You fools do...love each other.” She began to cackle, an echoing, witch-like laugh that sent shivers down their spines.
“Thaerlbone of Tlabbar?” Xorlarrin called.
“Yes, Matron Xorlarrin?” A figure emerged from the crowd of Drow, robed in scarlet. A mad gleam in his eyes.
“I have promised you my daughter, spoiled goods that she is. I ask in return that you lend me your services as a Wizard and Summoner...” She smiled cruelly.
“I am more than happy to, Matron.” His manic smile gleamed. “Anything to make these worms suffer for you.”
“Good. Bring here to us now a Bladeling, or better yet, a Barbed Devil. Bring one here, and set it to raping that half-orc slut in front of the human.”

“NO!” He screamed, his eyes wide with horror. How far did the Matron’s cruelty truly run?
“Please...anything but that...”
The whole court erupted into laughter, Xorlarrin’s laughter the shrillest and loudest of all. “Oh, how droll. Now you beg me. Beg harder, runt, and maybe I will not turn the Barbed Devil on you afterwards as well.” She sneered, her eyes filled with nothing but pure hatred.
“As it pleases you, Matron.” The Wizard began to chant, dread words echoing sinisterly through the hall, as his hands began to move in sinuous and arcane motions, fell light glowing from his hands as he traced painful runes in the air.

A pentagrammic circle appeared in the ground before him, red lines glowing like cracks spreading across the floor. The air in the hall raised several temperatures, infernal heat heralding the coming of a harmatula.
Thrali sobbed, her eyes screwed shut, arms wrapped herself protectively as she rocked back and forth.
Desperately, he tried to rise, to offer some comfort. “Take it out on me, you sadistic bitch, not her!”
“Oh, but I –am- taking it out on you, lowly maggot. I cannot imagine a more satisfying beginning to your punishment than this.” She cackled evilly.  “Rest assured, your turn will come.”

A stench like sulphur began to permeate the hall, and a dark, twisting shape began to take form within the pentagram. The guards watched nervously, raising their shields protectively as the Wizard continued to drone.
Standing seven feet tall, its scaly skin rippling with long jabbed barbs, the harmatula, or Barbed Devil, flexed its long, sinister claws at the centre of the pentagram.

“Don’t look Thrali...” His voice broke. He couldn’t believe this. Something like this was too cruel, too horrible to be real.

It roared.
“Icthy’sizzir of the Lower Hells, I call you here to perform a deed in service of your Name. Obey me, fulfil the deed to the letter, and you may return to your home.” The wizard intoned solemnly.
“NAME YOUR COMMAND.”
“Rape thi-“ The Wizard stopped, suddenly looking up in horror. “Matron? What is this?”
Skittering through the eaves and clambering along the roof, came the form of several huge Driders. The guards quickly raised their halberds and crossbows, calling out alarm.

“XORLARRIN YOU BETRAYER! YOU SOLD MY DAUGHTER, YOU BROKE OUR PROMISE!” A familiar voice howled through the mansion. Karlarin was coming, and he was enraged.

“Devil, I command you to slay these Driders!”
“NO! I wanted these maggots punished...”

“Matron, we must survive!” The Wizard called back. The Matron ran towards him,  blundering into him. “Listen to me, Icthy’sizzir, ignore this wretch, I am your true Mistress-“
The Devil laughed throatily. “You did not bring me here, greyskin. I am slave to no one. Command me, Wizard, so that I may go.”
“Fight the Dri-“
“I said NO!” The Matron shrieked petulantly, pushing the wizard. As she did so, he toppled backwards, his foot crossing the pentagram.

In an instant, the Devil’s claws were wrapped around his throat, choking the life from him. “GREYSKIN WORM!  YOU BROKE THE CIRCLE! NOW LET US SEE HOW YOU LIKE BEING A SLAVE...IN HELL!” It roared with demonic laughter, before vanishing in a burst of reddish light, the wizard’s choked screams vanishing like a distant echo.

Relan staggered to his feet, blood seeping into his eye from the whip-cut, as Driders fell from the ceilings, grappling with the guards, crossbow-bolts being loosed and blades meeting chitin in deadly duel.

"YOU FOOL KARLARIN! I COMMAND YOU AND YOUR DRIDERS TO HEEL!" The Matron shrieked, unshaken by the Wizard's dread fate. Her rage and hatred overrode everything now. She wanted revenge above all else.

"No, it is you, foul temptress, who are a fool. I knew your sickness would boil over one day and try to poison our Izzara. You were never good enough for her!" The Drider leaped across the hall, its razor-sharp limbs swatting away guards like flies, as it pounced towards the Matron, skidding mere inches from her face."You made me this way to protect the House. To Protect Izzara. I swore an Oath before Lolth to do that. She took my sanity in payment. Now I will fulfill that Oath." He snarled, his jaw distending into a slavering maw. Desperately the Matron reached for the dagger she was used to carrying, but it was no longer there. She had forgotten that Relan had stolen her usual dagger.
Instead, she tried to whip the Drider. It effortlessly caught the snake-whip in its mandibles.

"Damn you, you pathetic -male-! All of you, all betrayers! You may not have a penis anymore, Korlarin, but always you have let your male weaknesses rule you!" She screamed at him.

Relan feebly helped Thrali to her feet. She looked around, dazed, at the carnage enfolding. Driders locked in bloody battle with House guards. Even as they watched, the main doors were flung aside, and another wave of Drow warriors entered, loosing lethal bolts from crossbows, sycthing into the nearest Driders, who rocked back in agony, bolts protruding from their shattered thoraxes. They were powerful creatures, but the Drow had the numbers, and the weapons.

"We have to go. Take advantage of this chaos. Which way to Izzara's chambers from here?"
"I...I think I know the way..."

The Matron battled on with her former lover, dodging his sharpened legs, desperately trying to concerntrate on weaving her own spells. She was no summoner, but she knew plenty of formidable evocations and conjurations.

"Colour Spray!" She shouted, attempting to blind the Drider. It roared in pain as sparkling light erupted from Xorlarrin's fingers. It swung blindly, and managed with luck to smash into her, sending her sprawling.

Relan and Thrali hobbled from the hall, ignored by the guards, for now. Relan picked up a fallen sword, just in case. As they ran through the winding halls, he shouted around to the slaves. "Rise up! The Driders are attacking, now's your chance!" The few he past simply looked at him dimly. He sighed. Maybe they had been slaves too long.

He ran on.

"Relan? Thrali? Ah that you be?" Agara was waiting for them, a coterie of Drow and Half-Orc slaves behind her, holding kitchen knives, thick wooden spoons, and other kitchen utensils. "By Torm! I never thought we'd see you two again alive."
"Whats going on, Agara? You're not rising up are you?" Relan asked, foolishly.
Agara laughed heartily. "No. We're going to protect the next- new- Matron from her mad mother. Izzara has been kept locked up for days in her quarters. We fear the worst. The House Steward and a cadet branch of House Xorlarrin sent word that they were concerned, and  are sending troops to investigate. We were going to break her out and hide her in the Deep Dark till the reinforcements came, but we didn't think the House Driders would go mad and attack!"

"Izzaras in danger?" He said, though he felt a pang of guilt at being so concerned. Thrali simply looked at him, nodding her understanding.

"Go, Relan. Your goodness is too much for one heart. She does deserve a chance." Thrali said.

He ran through the corridors, a gaggle of slaves not far behind. Agara produced a vial of blood from her bosom, shattering it against the metal-lattice, and they ran through into the Matron's private sanctum.

A handful of guards emerged, but Agara produced an ornately-wrought sigil from her bosom, showing them she bore the authority of House Xorlarrin. "Why should we trust this?"

"The House is in danger. You can fight us whilst Driders lay siege and be branded fools, or you can stand aside and let us save this House's Heir, and be called as heroes." Agara said clearly. It seemed she too could speak without accent, in the Drow Highborn fashion, when the occasion demanded. Relan idly contemplated how many of the slaves were smarter than they acted and looked. He also wondered how much she could fit into that cleavage of hers.

They burst open the doors, and despite his pain and exhaustion Relan ran into the room. "Izzara? Where are you?"

"Relan? You..You came back for me?!" Izzara emerged, wearing a plain white dress. Despite some bruises, she seemed ok.

"Your mother? did she hurt you?!"

"Relan...I..." She sobbed, and he cradled her in his arms. "I'm sorry. I was too weak."
"It's OK. Sssh. It'll be ok now, little bug." He teased.
She looked up at him sharply. "How did you-?"
"No time. We have to go. Your mother is fighting the Driders, and House Xorlarrin is sending men to investigate whats going on with you and your mother. If we don't leave soon, you may become a pawn in a House War, or worse." Relan warned.
"I...It just seems so much..."
"I'm not leaving you behind, Izzara. I left you behind once, and I can't forgive myself for that. Do you want to live on the surface with me, free to pursue your own life? Or become a Matron like your mother?"
Izzara shuddered. "No, you are right. It's sudden but...going with you feels right. I've never been that happy here. I'm sorry Agara."

Agara chuckled. "Don't you be sorry young mistress! Ah have seem mistresses come and go. Ai will survive this, whatever happen. You must make your own way in the world, above or below."
"Thank you, Agara. You and Thrali were always closer to me than my family."

"We've got to go. The Driders can't hold them for long." Relan interrupted.

"OK. Just, one more thing-" Izzara suddenly lunged forward, kissing him full on the lips, causing him to wince. "Ow! My face still stings."
"Oh! I'm sorry-"
"No, its...fine. I love you too, Izzara. You were right, I love Thrali, but if a Slave can love a Mistress then can a man not love two women, and have two women love him?"
Izzara smiled. "I can think of no better arrangement than all three of us, happy together, and...free."

They ran from the palace, heading to the stables where the Bulettes, the giant-lizard mounts of the Drow, were kept. Thrali was already there, some of Agara's friends helping her load the creatures up with supplies.  Guards began to pour from side-tunnels, rushing to stop their escape, the Driders by and large dealt with.
"Hold right there! Matron's orders! No one is to leave!"
"Little Bugs, you will not hold my daughter any longer!" Roared Karlarin, who charged into them, his body scored with countless blows and bolts, blood pouring from wounds to his face and thorax and abdomen.
"Father!"
"Izzara? Go, Go now. My oath is...fulfilled." He swung back, his blows sluggish and heavy, as more guards rushed in, determined to finish off the dying Drider and prevent the prisoners from leaving.

Suddenly, a shout from the rear: "The Matron has fallen! We must get her to a healer, fast!" The guards held fast, lowering their blades.  The Drider snarled at them, and they realised they had a perfect excuse to avoid dying today.

Reluctantly, the guards pulled back. The Drider stood between them and his daughter, wheezing for breath. When they had departed, Karlarrin smiled eerily at them, his insect-eyes losing their red glow, and he slumped to the floor, his legs collapsing.
"Little bugs...protect my kin..." It breathed, before collapsing, blood gushing forth from its mouth.
"Father! No!"
"We can do no more for him, Izzara. Its time." Relan said sadly.
Izzara put her hand against the still-form of the creature, her eyes closed. She had cried too much these past few days, but still she found she had more in her. She had never truly known her father, but his presence here solidified her decision. She would leave with Relan, and this wretched place behind.

Agara entered swiftly, her cleavage bouncing again. "You are still here? Go! Fly! The guards will surely come back soon!"

"You sure you won't come with us, Agara?" Thrali asked.

"Hah! Ai am too old and too fat for such journeys! Besides, someone has to look after de others!"

Taking firm hold of the reins, Relan blinked away blood, the wound on his head finally crusting over, though he still felt woozy.

"We best ride hard and fast. I want to be miles from here before the adrenaline wears off and we all faint."
"You do that, crazy man. Go, and be free on your surface. I will say prayers to Torm for you."
"Thank you Agara. We'll think of you, always. Stay safe." Relan said,  though he could see that Izzara and Thrali were still in a daze. He had tried to keep things light for them, to keep things moving even though he himself was still disorientated. Once they were clear, they would need to find somewhere safe to rest, and recover from the trauma of the past few days. Izzara in particular. She had lost so much, and was committed now to a strange new life.

It was not a victory. But it wasn't the end, either.

The trio mounted up, and, kicking hard, they rode their strange mounts out and across the underground plains, the House of Xorlarrin disappearing into the gloom far behind them. Not even Izarra looked back, though her eyes were streaming.

It would be a long journey still to the surface, before they could claim to be truly free. Relan was battered and in need of many long days of rest. Thrali was still suffering from shock. Izzara had grief to work through. They had only begun their journey towards freedom. But it was a Beginning, and they could take comfort from knowing that, whatever happened, they would face it together.  Many dangers lay ahead, with Drow patrols, Underdark monsters, and the wilds of the Silver Marches on the surface world above to traverse before they could truly, finally come to rest.

But that is a story for another time.

===============THE END=====

EPILOGUE WILL FOLLOW!