The Bliss Bringer
By Shawn C. Williams [Author Info]
A lone dark figure sat hunched over an ornately carved desk of obsidian. Oblivious to the world around him, he continued writing in his journal.
* * *
This may very well be my last entry. I have grown very old and though death knocks not at my door, there are other reasons why my demise may be at hand. Whoever finds, or receives in bequeathment, this journal, will see that it is not a chronicle of my life, nor a confession. Rather, these words document the things I have seen and what life has come to mean to me here in the darkened caves and hallways of the Underworld.
For over eighteen hundred years I have lived apart from my brethren, a recluse living by his own rules. Our world is beautiful, yet our world is also horrific. Many of us see the beauty around us but fail to acknowledge it. I am sure that there is love somewhere in these echoing caves, though I have never felt it. Upon occasion I have observed a slave take a beating or even a death sentence in the place of its child, or its brother or sister. This is something a drow would never do and the act has always perplexed me. Our slaves may be dirty, brutish creatures but I have seen love between them. Perhaps, the search for love has been my sole purpose for continuing. I am not sentimental. I have only hoped to find something different, something redeeming in the chaos of my dark elven city.
There is so much pain and misery here that over the years I have concluded that the only true bliss lay in death itself. And so I have become an assassin. I know now that my reasoning was wrong. In the past, I have had no moral objection to murder because I believed that, each time I killed, I delivered my victim from the inevitable pain of a long and brutish life in our society. "In killing, I bring release. In killing, I bring ultimate bliss," or so I once thought. How wrong I have been. I have done nothing but fall into my own self-made web of delusions and lies, taking countless lives with me. But I have made amends. This assassin's last mission may serve to lift the fog of pain from our dark elven society.
The High Council summoned me because of a prophecy. A darkelf child had been born whose fate was to lead a revolution that would end our way of life. The child, true to the prophecy, was born into a powerful merchant family on the eve of a distant lava flow. The Council knew that the child must be slain to avoid the prophetic fate, but the clan's riches brought it awesome defenses even by drow norms. I was summoned for the task of penetrating their compound like a spider in another arachnid's web.
I am not the greatest swordsman; at least a dozen drow come to mind who are far better with a cutting blade than I. Like all drow, I am skilled with magic, though I am not especially gifted. I am tenacious, however, and patient. Time moves differently for those who live for centuries. There have been times when I have taken a year or more to complete an assignment. Patience and intelligence have made me the best. Many other assassins become anxious and overzealous when tasked with an assignment. They rush in and die, or they leave a trail back to themselves or their client. That is not my way. I prefer slow, deliberate and sure.
But the Council, in its fear of the prophecy, ordered me to set aside my measured pace. If I did not kill the child soon, they warned, unchained war would be waged against the family. Citing from the ancient codex that foretold of the revolution, the Council had already demanded the child's death via sacrifice. But the family had refused; its high priestess had cast her own auguries and found that the child possessed exceptional magical potential. They would not cede the child to the Council's fate.
The drums of war beat steadily nearby and this child threatened our very existence. I had to accept the mission -- to not do so would have been treasonous. And besides, I thought, killing the child would only bring it bliss and save it from the wretchedness of our world.
I have completed this assignment in the eyes of High Council and informed them of my wish to retire. Although many lives were lost in my mission, one life was spared and it is my deepest hope that this life, in turn, will save us all.
* * *
Laying the quill aside, the elderly drow stood and walked about the room, stretching tired muscles and stopping in front of a table to pour a glass of Viwagri, a dark and expensive wine brewed only during the third cycle of each year. While setting the wine on the desk, he picked up a candle and used it to relight the ones that had gone out. A sip of the wine was taken and he sat down and began to write again.
* * *
I had to work quickly, since time was against me. The easiest way to get past someone is by distracting them so that they pay no heed to anything else. It took several days and several bribes, but I was finally able to sneak into the kitchen where the slaves' meals were prepared. Once inside, I acted like any other disdainful drow master. I barked commands and threats, sneering at the creatures -- the orcs, goblins and gretchlings. As the terrified slaves kept their eyes from my own, I poured several vials of Terlinyia, a violent hallucinogen, into the vats of foods being prepared for that day. I would make my attack shortly after the midday meal.
It is fairly easy to blend into the chaos of a slave’s revolt, especially when four hundred fever-crazed Unseelie slaves have lost control. No drow will question you, when your sword is freely hacking through his aggressors. She might wonder what your fee might be, but she will not ask you to leave. Nearly two-thirds of the slaves were slaughtered during the battle. Slaves are cheap and the family will suffer no great financial hardship, especially when compared to a destructive war waged by the Council. Only seven drow were killed in the melee; all seven were killed by my hand.
Although it was splendid, I will not share the madness of this fight through hoarding slaves. Instead, I report my first hand experiences with a prophecy becoming reality. Two of the seven drow that I killed were nurses left to guard the child. With every available fighter, magician and priestess fighting the uprising, completing my mission was like sucking the juice from an insect caught and wrapped in the web. Stepping over the two bodies, I approached the crib. Something happened when I looked down at the child. Even though it was much too young to do so, the child stood up and reached through the slats and touched me. It smiled and giggled a little, cooing his pleasure at the color of my robe. Children have never meant anything to me. I have watched my own grow up and die in this battle or another. Two, I have even killed myself, but this child was different. For the first time in two millennia I felt the stirrings of love. Wrapping the child in a blanket, I slipped it gently into my shoulder pack and made my way out. I encountered no drow resistance, only a handful of slaves which I easily dispatched into bliss.
After securing the child at my home I met with the Council. I told them about how I had poisoned the slaves and about the drow and the two nurses that were killed. I explained that after killing the child I weighted its body and dropped it in the lake to be devoured by a water spider. With all of the turmoil, the slaves would be blamed for the disappearance, I reasoned, and the child’s death could not be connected with the Council. The High Council was pleased and extended me a bonus for the added discretion. They questioned why I took the child instead of just leaving it in the crib. I smiled and told them that with all the turmoil I could not resist the added confusion of a missing infant. The assembled members laughed and, in view of my age and impeccable service record, my resignation was accepted unanimously -- as were all of my lies.
Do not think that I underestimate the treachery of my brothers. Even now an assassin could be sharpening a dagger, while waiting for an opportunity at my back. I am prepared to leave my home now. This quiet cave lies hidden in a maze of tunnels dug beneath the passageways of the city. The tunnels were dug, and the home built by my own slaves... slaves whom I killed after the cave's completion in order to ensure its secrecy. Over the centuries, my magical and physical defenses have killed countless intruders and I have furthered the secrecy of this place by spreading false rumors about its location. So if they should come after me, it shall take weeks before they know I am gone.
I will take this child to raise as my own in some drow city far deeper beneath the earth than here. Perhaps I will raise it outside of our society, away from all drow. Only tomorrow’s road knows for certain. My hope is that the prophecy is right, and this child will find a gentler way of bringing bliss than I.
* * *
Laying the quill inside the fold of his journal, he sealed the portable inkwell and then secured both within his pack. The darkelf slipped his arms through the shoulder straps and tugged at the adjustments to ensure the pack rode squarely on his back. Leaning over, he picked up the child and wrapped it in a blanket, placing it in another pack that would ride over his shoulder leaving his sword arm free. He let the candles flicker so they would burn out in his memory and made his way down one of the many corridors of his home, oblivious to the pair of shadows that silently followed.
| Author Info |
|
Copyright © 1999 by Shawn C. Williams. This material may be distributed only subject to the terms and conditions set forth in the Open Publication License, v.04 1998 or later (the latest version is presently available at http://www.opencontent.org/openpub/).
Distribution of substantively modified versions of this document is prohibited without the explicit permission of the copyright holder. Distribution of the work or derivative of the work in any standard (paper) book form is prohibited unless prior permission is obtained from the copyright holder.
Permission not granted to use the email addresses on this page for commercial purposes. Please contact us, but don't spam us. Unsolicited commercial email from the address on this page will be considered an act of trespass.
