[Falx]: 648.The City Beneath.Chapter One

Chapter One is still a WIP. Thus, there isn't much here yet. I just felt like posting what I had written so far.

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Chapter One

She came without warning, without so much preamble as a knock on the door of the lesser House, as was her style. She delighted in catching people off guard, took great pleasure in the discomfort her sudden presence brought. Matron Lieara Shartak did not disappoint her.

A light tap on the kazyreth’s shoulder had caused her to jump and drop a goblet of wine to the floor in a tinkle of broken glass. Lieara spun to see who had sneaked up on her and as she stared at her visitor, her mouth worked silently and she trembled, attempting to prostrate herself as swiftly as possible. The visitor gazed at the elf coolly, a slight smirk hovering on her dark grey lips. Lieara knelt before the other woman, her long black hair hiding her face as she bowed her head. The visitor smiled and gently lifted the Kazyreth’s chin with the backs of two of her red lacquered fingernails, forcing the Matron to meet her steely eyes.

“Lieara Shartak,” the visitor spoke, her voice dripping saccharine, “my loyal priestess, I find myself in need of a small token from you.” The dark elf found it impossible to tear her eyes from her goddess’s gaze, the swirling blackness of her dress adding a hypnotic air to their cold, stony depths.

“I will give whatever it is within my power to give unto you, and you alone, Great Dark Lady,” Lieara replied. The goddess circled her servant, tracing her fingers lightly around the kneeling elf’s neck, eliciting several shivers that she found quite pleasing. She placed her arm under Lieara’s shoulder and urged the elf to her feet. She smiled, quite pleased with her treatment by the matron.

“I am delighted to hear that, Lieara Shartak,” she said as she released her servant. She smiled again, though it did not touch her eyes. “I should like you to give me one of your sons,” she went on, “Not for an indefinite amount of time, mind you, a few hours should suffice.” The matron blinked, not entirely understanding, but obedient.

“Of course, Great Dark Lady,” she stated, bowing from the waist. “If you can wait but a moment, I shall fetch one of the boys promptly.” She stood with her gaze to the floor until the goddess had given her leave to go and scurried down the hallway and out of sight. The goddess smiled, steepling her fingers together. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips as she followed after Lieara with her eyes. Respect and humility, that was exactly what she expected her followers to show, and the matron hadn’t disappointed her. She idly observed the artwork in the room as she awaited the kazyreth’s return. She nodded in silent approval of the statuary: images of herself bedecked in expensive cloth and jewelry.

A moment later, the slightly winded matron returned with a young boy in tow. He was dressed in a silver and blue tunic with black breeches and soft leather boots. He flicked a glance at the goddess and immediately dropped to his knees, placing his face to the floor and not daring to look up. The Great Dark Lady smiled, well pleased with his behavior. She paced around him, eyeing him as if he were nothing more than a pack animal. The matron wrung her hands nervously, hoping he would be sufficient. He was the only one she could find on such short notice. The goddess stopped in front of the boy, her black dress swirling hypnotically as she took his chin in her hands. His deep blue eyes filled almost instantaneously with fear as he attempted not to look at her. She pursed her lips at the child, consideration weighing heavily in her eyes.

“What is your name, little one,” she said, her long fingernails caressing the boy’s cheek, leaving faint lines of blood in their wake. The little boy chewed on his lip a moment as she locked him with her gaze.
“M’rysta,” he replied, his voice quivering a little as he spoke. He licked his lips. “Am I in trouble?”

The goddess barked a harsh laugh, “No, my little Shartak, you aren’t. At least, not yet.” M’rysta smiled a little at her, his eyes trying to tear themselves from hers as she continued. “Tell me, M’rysta, what year of weapons training are you in?” The boy stuck his tongue between his lips, rolling his eyes toward the top of his head as he thought.

“My second and a half,” he said, a little pride gleaming through in his eyes. “The weaponsmaster, he says I’m not bad. He says I’m pretty good, and I practice every day, even when we don’t have weapons school, ‘cuz I really like it, and the teachers are hard sometimes, but sometimes I think that….” The Great Dark Lady cut him off with a slap to the face.

“I asked only for your year of training, boy, not your life story. I care little about what you think.”

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes as he rubbed gently at the spot where she’d hit him. He scrubbed a hand across his face, tears and a running nose staining the sleeve of his tunic. The goddess smiled sweetly at him again, though it did not touch her eyes.
“Now, I hope you have learned something from this, little one,” she said, and the boy nodded dumbly. “Good,” she continued, her voice taking on a mesmerizing tone, “I can expect you to do exactly what I tell you to, can’t I M’rysta? You wouldn’t want to upset me again, would you?” The boy looked at her uncertainly.

“I like you better when you’re happy,” he said. “Will it make you happy if I do what you tell me to?” The goddess smiled.

“It would indeed, M’rysta.” She released him and stood to face the matron who was beside herself with worry. The woman immediately dropped her gaze from her goddess’s face. The Great Dark Lady lifted the elf’s chin with the backs of her fingers. “He knows his place. You’ve taught him well, thus far,” she said, stroking Lieara’s hair. She smiled; pleased at the shudders she drew from the matron. “He will do. Have him ready within the hour.”

“As you will, Great Dark Lady,” Lieara replied, turning to face the goddess only to find the hallway empty behind her.