08. Return of the Matron by Jysdiira

Return of the Matron
jysdiira

The slave was bound naked to the floor, drugged so her screams would not interrupt the painful enchantments soon to be cast. Black, slender hands finished creating the runes that encompassed a fifteen-foot circle in the middle of the necromancer’s laboratory. Matron Jysdiira stood silently within the circle while Szin worked, Ilmeth remained at her side, his impassive face gave no indication of his thoughts.

Szin brushed the remnants of chalky powder from his hands. “I’m afraid this is going to be painful, Matron.” His look was one of professional regret.

Jysdiira inclined her head, she knew it would be. Ilmeth helped her to the wide, metal gurney and saw her comfortably settled on it while Szin began a low-pitched chant in a language unknown to either the dragondrow or her companion.

***

Months had passed, months in which Jysdiira had left her House and family in Olath Xal to carry out the work of a lifetime. In order to leave her House secure for such an extended period of time, Jysdiira had quietly called three of her children home from their travels. The position of the First House of any drow city was a precarious one, the envy and goal of each of the Houses under it, one show of weakness and opportunistic lower houses would not hesitate to attack, seeking to take their place at the top.

In secret certain members of the Tagnik’zur Xal family met, Zebeyriia’s arrival was kept from everyone in Olath Xal, including most of Jysdiira’s own household. Zebeyriia took on the role of her mother, shapechanging to look just like her to assume position as the Matron of Qu’Ellar Tagnik’zur Xal. Jysdiira confided in Sabrae and Khalszar, her favored slave, and introductions were made. Those two would serve Zebey and help her with every detail, ensuring Zebeyriia’s impersonation was not uncovered.

The dragondrow did not survive in the harsh Underdark society by being reckless, in the drow culture it was foolish to trust blindly and having learned her lesson with her firstborn daughter, Malice, Jysdiira had her own backup plans incase Zebey refused to relinquish power upon her return. Beneath Qu’Ellar Tagnik’zur Xal were secret chambers, some of which Zebey, Rylyrr and Izzirahc knew about. These contained created monstrosities with the ability to spark life-consuming nightmares in victims and equipped with long, powerful tentacles that could reduce stone to rubble in a matter of moments. Other chambers remained only known to Jysdiira, she had experimented for nearly a year with the Bane Stone and Dominion Stone to ensure her safety once she returned.

Following holy visions, possessed and in possession of the Bane Stone, the First Matron of the drow city had traveled south to the Mystical Storm. There, with the aid of the powerful abomination of nature, Jysdiira worked in a lethal and surreal landscape to swing Fyre lines towards her city. She felt the connection as each one slipped into place, something that would assure Olath Xal’s future, making the area richer in magical resources, strengthening not just her House but also the entire Underdark city.

The first five went smoothly and she should have stopped there. Her arrogance or the Stone’s pushed her further, touching upon a crackling line of magic, Jysdiira had hoped to swing the final Fyre in place. Chaos started to respond, a strand of it that coiled through the Thraslin Plains slinked towards Widows Peak Mountain, home to the drow city and looped around the jagged peak. As it started to penetrate the stone of the mountain the Chaos Fyre seemed to become aware of what was happening.

And resisted.

Within the bizarre Storm, Chaos struck out at its ancient enemy, the Bane Stone. The clashing forces were enough to blast away the continent below it, leaving nothing but a jagged reminder of what had been in the form of a broken ring of devastated land that has become known as the Barrier Islands. The resulting tsunami triggered by the cataclysmic explosion ravaged the southern coastal lands all around Rosha.

Jysdiira survived by the grace or curse of the Bane Stone, hurled into a protective unconsciousness the Matron’s body was unaffected by the passage of time and the ravages of the fantastic war raging around her. For months she floated within the Storm while the Fyres fought with renewed frenzy against the ancient evil, a second eternal struggle had begun within the malevolent Storm.

She knew him, felt his touch and heard his words through an eternal fog, an image of the boy and man swirled into clarity within her mind. “The search party is coming for you, I have led them here. But, before they find you, perhaps I should awaken you.” Strange words she didn’t understand followed but the prickle of the magical curse was undeniable. Jysdiira was powerless to do anything as his touch grew more familiar. “This is business, never know when I may need someone of your stature.” His chuckled grated on her and if she could have she would have reached out to squeeze the life out of him for his insolence. “They will find you weak, tired and no doubt irritable; but alive and on the mend. I do not blame you for your stupidity with the Stone, damn thing nearly got us as well. I am sure I will be seeing you again.”

Silence followed. For days she remained there, at one point her mind touched upon the former Outrider of Qu’Ellar Tagnik’zur Xal. She found herself within Thayne’s dream, their discussion proved entertaining. Interesting dynamics, she’d called it. That the darthiir had taken Jysdiira’s offered hand gave her more answers than the vehemently ground out words he had spoken minutes before. She’d told him, “You made your choices, never forget I allowed you to make them freely. I did not hold you back, try to sway you to stay. Perhaps you can say little else about me, but like it or not the truth is I never stood in your way.” And the first thing that Thayne had done with his freedom was not run to the woodwitch Pashen, quite the contrary, the runic elf had let his passion loose on her within a hallway of Qu’Ellar Tagnik’zur Xal. It was something he could never deny, Jysdiira had not manipulated those events and he knew it.

The dream dissolved, drawing Jysdiira’s conscious mind back to her crippled body on the mountainside. A familiar presence shrouded by the veil of death was felt for an instant then gone. The last of Darshu’s protections slipped away just when she heard the unmistakable crunch of something underfoot. Blackness returned.

Ilmeth found Jysdiira’s unconscious form on Widows Peak Mountain, guided to the location by the spirit of a slave that served the Matron even in death. An assassin hired by Jysdiira before she left, Ilmeth’s job originally had been to provide a smoke screen for the assassination of the then Prince of Proudglaive, Vorador, a former ally who betrayed Jysdiira. Mercenary turned rescuer, Ilmeth wanted his money and revenge for a wrong committed against himself by Qu’Ellar Tagnik’zur Xal led by Zebeyriia. Under the drow assassin’s care it was a day before she awakened for longer than brief periods. Her crippled body would not permit her to stand on her own, the Bane Stone warped not just the mind of those that tried to use it, but also the body.

Small amounts of food given at short intervals helped to clear Jysdiira’s mind and stop the tembling in her limbs. She listened to Ilmeth’s softly spoken words without comment as he outlined his accomplishments and failures on the surface in the body of Juanjarvis. Jysdiira had enslaved the half-elf’s mistress and during the battle Juanjarvis had blinded her, pierced her draconic eye with his enchanted sword. In exchange she’d taken his life but before she could eat the troublesome man his lover managed to teleport his body back to the surface. Wounded, Jysdiira decided not to retrieve the body. In the end she was forced to wear an eye patch when even her superior healing had not been able to restore her left eye.

Quickly the Priestess of Lloth formed another plan with a trusted ally, Szin. Together they enslaved the soul of Juanjarvis and released Ilmeth’s for the resurrection. Timing was critical but they had the blessing of Lloth, the switch was a success and Jysdiira tasted victory.

Szin then had turned his attentions to Taelon and worked his dark magicks upon Juan’s lover, bending her will to theirs, changing her appearance they released her to the surface with the purpose of assassinating Vorador.

Told of Khalszar’s death and the attack on him by her House, Ilmeth’s question of how many were still loyal burned in her mind, Jysdiira didn’t know. She needed information and almost as if on cue, her first-born child’s thoughts touched upon hers, the Paladin of Lloth arrived in the small cave with his sword drawn. Both sides prepared for a confrontation, neither knowing how the other would react, Ilmeth stood ready to defend the Matron, his steely gaze shifted between Jysdiira’s son and his companion, axe in hand held ready.

Rylyrr too was ready to defend Jysdiira but quickly discerned that the drow by her side was as concerned for his mother’s safety as he was. Jysdiira watched as Rylyrr dropped to his knee in a show of respect but she did not let her guard down, a spell on the tip of her tongue ready in case he tried anything. The flicker of surprise at her disheveled and deformed appearance that raced across Rylyrr’s stern features did not go unnoticed by her.

The young drow accompanying Rylyrr also went to his knees but it appeared more from exhaustion, the bowing of his head did however show his respect. Rylyrr introduced Vonagh, explaining the younger man was a gifted artist then quickly told of Zebey’s treachery, though not unexpected it is still cause for concern. Whether Rylyrr rushed due to the weakened condition of Vonagh or her, Jysdiira didn’t know but a frosty anger simmered the longer she listened to Rylyrr.

The artist Vonagh had yet to rise from his knees when he suddenly exploded into action. Jysdiira’s cold, reptilian gaze focused on the drow with the mismatched eyes while his fingers sketched in the dirt, Rylyrr spoke of the young drow having the gift of prophecy. Jysdiira watched intently, the strange words that Vonagh spoke made sense after the casting of a simple spell.

“It is time! The Red Moon is Rising! The Shadow box can be found in the heart of the world!” Over and over he chanted while the quick strokes of his fingers brought to life a drawing that sent the icy tentacles of apprehension shivering down her spill. “A shadow box! Deeper and Deeper into the heart!” He worked quickly, a sketch of unusual lines and diagrams at first, then came a box with square spiderlings atop it, numerous dots in patterns too complex to comprehend punctuated the dirt floor of the cave. Wires and webs that spiraled outward caused the young drow to move closer to the fire on his knees. “A SHADOW BOX!” His chant continued. The form of a black dragon took shape from his quivering fingers, then he stopped as his hand neared the fire on the cave floor, the head would be right in the fire had he continued to draw it.

Suddenly released from the tight grip of his vision, the young drow bowed his head and sagged as if all his resources had been sucked from him. Jysdiira had felt the tingle of power surrounding the young man and there was no doubt that Vonagh was blessed by the touch of Lloth.

For several moments no one spoke in the cave, the meaning of the headless dragon hung heavily in the air. It was then that Rylyrr suggested they return to Vonagh’s house in Olath Xal to make plans.

“Nau.” Jysdiira declined. Though Rylyrr seemed sincere she was not ready to trust his words yet, he could be leading her right into a trap and in her weakened state, though still formidable, she could not risk it. “Ilmeth and I will contact you later. Return to the city, make sure that Zebey does not get suspicious.” Ilmeth nodded his approval.

With one last baleful look at his lover’s inspired work on the floor of the cave, violet flame then engulfed Rylyrr and Vonagh, transporting the two of them away.

Ilmeth and Jysdiira returned to Olath Xal, each in disguise. After another day of rest, Jysdiira sought out Szin. Speaking with him mentally first, he’d closed his shop and asked the Matron to meet him within his home. The crippled drow needed her body repaired and the necromancer was just the one needed to undo the bone twisting damage that months in contact with the Bane Stone had wrought.

***

A throaty screamed threatened to burst from Jysdiira’s dark lips when the first touch of Szin’s yellow, short-clipped nails feathered over the top of her bowed upper arm and brought a burning pain to the center of the ruined bone of her humerus. Instead of screaming her body tensed, the arch of her spine cleared the metal top of the gurney.

Szin made a tsking sound. He needed her to be still and with as much authority as he dared he told her to lay still.

From shoulder to elbow it felt as if molten rock from the deepest lava pit in the Nine Hells was released, it coursed downwards, the bone became pliable and straightened as Szin directed it to. It was more than the bone, tendons and ligaments regained their length, muscles not used for nearly a year stretched and rebuilt themselves.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed the thin drow’s features, he continued downwards concentrating on the two bones that comprised the forearm. Ilmeth watched the necromancer work with morbid fascination, steely eyes moved from the Matron to the slave chained to the floor. She mimicked Jysdiira’s pained body position but where the dragondrow’s arm straightened, the slave’s bowed as if taking on the deformities.

It came to her then, from the depths of agony, a violet web wove through her sight and Vonagh’s mysterious words began to make sense. It would demand sacrifice and lives would be lost but Jysdiira meant to take back her home no matter the cost. She’d fulfilled the visions given by Lloth; establishing the drow city of Olath Xal, the capture then torture of Thayne and the killing of Syriana for crimes commited against Lloth, locating the Bane Stone and her brief mastery over it. It had taken years to accomplish but she had and this was her reward, the Queen of Lies was giving Jysdiira a chance to redeem herself, the way back presented to her by a mere slip of a drow boy.

She knew the choices, accept or die. Jysdiira had never once hesitated over the years, her service to Lloth could never be questioned. You did not live to be a High Priestess of the Demon Queen of Spiders without having complete faith. She would come out victorious.

The painstaking process to correct Jysdiira’s left arm, hip and leg took an hour, to Jysdiira it seemed like a lifetime. Szin stepped back to examine his work, walking around the cart to examine the scaled body minutely. Noting her labored breathing and strained features he weighed whether or not to precede onto the next job. He decided to let Jysdiira decide for herself. “I have the stone Matron if you feel up for that now.”

She almost declined, every inch of her still quivered uncontrollably from the procedure but in a ragged voice that still carried the ring of authority she answered. “Xas, proceed.” Sweat stung her eye that she focused on him, causing her to blink, a rare occurrence. Jysdiira wasn’t sure if she imagined the faint smile or not on Szin’s face as he stepped to the head of the cart but she felt instinctively that he was enjoying the pain he’d inflicted during the last hour. A solitary reptilian eye narrowed at his murmured words of, “Just relax, Matron, this is going to hurt me more than you.” She didn’t for one moment believe that look of professional regret.

Sun, Jan 26th – 5:54PM

Return of the Matron ( Recommendations: 0 )

Posts: 6
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He watched with passing interest as the scene played out. He hoped, of course, that all would go well with the “healing”. He would need the Matron at full strength for the House civil war that loomed on the horizon. He was more interested in working through the things they had to their advantage and the resources available to them. It was a fairly short list.

He had 4 or 5 other drow, outcasts like himself that he’d come across on his sojourn. They knew him by reputation and offered their services. He would definitely be calling on them. As for those loyal to the Matron, neither he nor she was sure who was with her and who wasn’t. Sometimes he despised the drow for their lack of loyalty. He was always a man of principle. Granted, once the contract up and the payment made he was free from any allegiances, but none-the-less he still had some measure of loyalty.

He doubted the Matron would try to go to another house, fearing other families catching wind of the upcoming battle and choosing to take advantage for themselves. Survival of the fittest at its best was the drow society. The first house would definitely be put to the test in the ensuing months. Maybe she had other allies to call on, other favors or IOUs to call in. He hoped.

They had one advantage: surprise. He only hoped hatred would not cloud the Matron’s sight. Business must come first; reclaim the house, then shell out paybacks. For him, it was all about payback; he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Perhaps he could beat her to the one behind all this . . . he only hoped.

_____________________________
Don’t think ‘cos I understand, I care.
Don’t think ‘cos I’m talking, we’re friends.

Do you know what “nemesis” means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this instance by an ‘orrible cunt… me!

Sun, Feb 2nd – 4:23PM

Return of the Matron ( Recommendations: 0 )

He watched with passing interest as the scene played out. He hoped, of course, that all would go well with the “healing”. He would need the Matron at full strength for the House civil war that loomed on the horizon. He was more interested in working through the things they had to their advantage and the resources available to them. It was a fairly short list.

He had 4 or 5 other drow, outcasts like himself that he’d come across on his sojourn. They knew him by reputation and offered their services. He would definitely be calling on them. As for those loyal to the Matron, neither he nor she was sure who was with her and who wasn’t. Sometimes he despised the drow for their lack of loyalty. He was always a man of principle. Granted, once the contract up and the payment made he was free from any allegiances, but none-the-less he still had some measure of loyalty.

He doubted the Matron would try to go to another house, fearing other families catching wind of the upcoming battle and choosing to take advantage for themselves. Survival of the fittest at its best was the drow society. The first house would definitely be put to the test in the ensuing months. Maybe she had other allies to call on, other favors or IOUs to call in. He hoped.

They had one advantage: surprise. He only hoped hatred would not cloud the Matron’s sight. Business must come first; reclaim the house, then shell out paybacks. For him, it was all about payback; he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Perhaps he could beat her to the one behind all this . . . he only hoped.

_____________________________
Don’t think ‘cos I understand, I care.
Don’t think ‘cos I’m talking, we’re friends.

Do you know what “nemesis” means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent. Personified in this instance by an ‘orrible cunt… me!

Sun, Feb 2nd – 4:23PM