Forsaken by Shadows 65: Malachite

~30. Malachite~

Dreder

Nothing, no single thing, in all the world, was as mentally taxing, physically frustrating, and emotionally annoying, as a battle patrol wandering around without actually finding any battles.

Seriously. Didn’t this stretch of cavern know the Underdark had a reputation to uphold? The least it could do was send them a few cave crawlers or a darkmantle, or something killable. Mercenaries weren’t supposed to get bored. They were supposed to be called in when there was actual work to be done.

Or get kicked out of cities when they weren’t wanted. But that was beside the point. A detail that definitely wasn’t bothering Dreder, twelve hours after Launa’s city gate had been slammed in his face. Nope, not bothered one bit.

He lounged on his back, his good hand folded under his head like a pillow while his hook nestled safely on his chest, his eyelids half shut as he did his best to ignore the bickering of his squadmates over what they were going to do next. An endeavor he might have succeeded in—for he was well versed in the art of tuning out stupidity—if it wasn’t for the direct summons.

“Hey, princeling,” came Guldax’s voice, rising among the murmuring. 

Ah, yes. And suddenly, Dreder was needed. The jeering nickname gave the forthcoming request away, as Guldax only called him princeling when in need of his princeling abilities.

He lifted his head just enough to free his hand and snap his fingers at the exact moment Guldax said, “Give us some light.” 

An orb of brilliant white light blossomed over their heads, followed by a chorus of angry hisses that was music to Dreder’s ears, bringing a satisfied smirk to his lips. 

“Red light, princeling,” Guldax growled. “Give us red light.”

“You didn’t specify,” Dreder began, letting his own eyes open slowly to avoid the painful searing he’d just inflicted upon the others. “How was I supposed to—unholy Seldarine!” He broke off with a gasp, as his newly adjusted vision took in their surroundings.

The once blue-toned limestone had been illuminated into a patchwork of bronze stone and green stains, a natural mosaic of color and texture that had eluded his infravision. His gaze followed the design downward and he reached out to trace the mineral beside him, cool even beneath his gloved hand.

“Look at all this copper,” he breathed, marveling at the sheer wonder of the deposit, though it wasn’t the copper that excited him, exactly. 

It was the malachite. The brilliant green crystal just begging to be mined.

Guldax rolled his eyes, waving a flippant hand at Dreder as if waving him away and unfolding a coded tunnel map, the study of which had probably inspired the request for light. 

“Have you never seen a copper deposit before?” 

The question came from Ardyn, who had settled near Dreder, as he had every time they stopped for a rest, as if they were a merry pair of outcasts. His words, which had sounded curious rather than hostile, were some of the first he had spoken since they left the city. He’d been as stalwart in refusing conversation with the others as he had been with Dreder, though to be fair, the others hardly tried. 

“I’ve seen them,” Dreder said, scrambling to his feet. He summoned a second orb of white light, bringing it near the wall as he scrutinized the stone. “There’s just so much, and this stone is unworked.” 

“The tunnels around Launa are pretty rich in it,” Ardyn said, the shrug audible in his voice. “Our active mines are in the southeast.”

And just like that, his excitement crumbled. Dreder muttered a curse, before remembering he wasn’t supposed to say those words any more.

How was he supposed to impress Ti’yana with common crystals? She’d hardly be impressed with bare-minimum minerals, and he’d insult himself by trying. No, he needed something else. Something more suited to his intentions as her suitor, something worthy of her resplendent smile. 

Taking a step back, Dreder raised the orb higher, searching the limestone for one of copper’s less common companions, such as the multi-colored bornite or the deep red cuprite. Yet so far as he could see, there was nothing else. Just great swaths of uninteresting green. 

Wrinkling his nose, as though the wall had personally disappointed him by its boring existence, he drifted down the tunnel, taking his second orb of light with him. 

“Where’re you going?” Ardyn asked, sounding concerned.

Dreder gritted his teeth. “No where.” 

But every eye was on him now, suspicion and ridicule traced on their features. 

Great. Did the gloam-drow not understand the meaning of minding his own business? Or at the very least, keeping his voice down? 

“Just looking to see what’s around,” Dreder added, affecting innocence. “Since we’re not in a hurry.” 

“Actually we’ve just come to a decision,” Guldax said, rolling up the map. “We’re taking—”

But Dreder stopped listening, his attention returning to the limestone wall. No, they were moving out? Now? When the tunnels finally got interesting? This opportunity was too good to waste. He edged further away, hoping against hope for a splash of color that wasn’t green.

“Ti’glath!” Nymin called, rising to his feet. Then he paused, a smirk creeping over his lips. “Is this about the girl?” 

“Girl?” Ardyn repeated, at the same moment Dreder hastily said, “No!”

But the smiles were starting, cruel joy feasting at his expense. 

“It’s definitely about the girl,” said Kelzaer, their ax-wielding warrior. “Wow, Ti’gath, you’ve got it bad.” 

“Shut up,” Dreder grumbled, but to his chagrin, a blush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. And bathed in the rays of his blinding white light, they would all be able to see it.

“What girl?” Ardyn asked, looking between them. 

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” Nymin said. “The real pretty one, with the silver eyes. What’s her name? The priest’s daughter.” 

“Don’t—” Dreder began, but it was too late. Her beautiful name was already forming on Ardyn’s lips.

“Ti’yana?!” He sounded incredulous, the way Riz had sounded when Dreder had first revealed his intentions. 

Scat.

“Ti’yana!” Kelzaer said, clapping his hands together. “So that’s her name. See, Dreder, was that so hard?” 

“Ti’yana,” Nymin mused. “She is fetching, I’ll give you that, kid. Maybe we ought to all bring her some crystals. Let her choose real men from among the boys.” 

The squad laughed, a chorus of scornful noise, and even though Dreder knew, he knew Nymin wasn’t serious, his fist still clenched and his jaw ached from grinding his teeth. 

“I would advise against that,” Ardyn said, his soft voice taking on a measure of steel reminiscent of his father’s. “Her family can be rather… protective.” 

“Tell that to your friend there,” said Nymin. “He’s the one who’s been sneaking off to see her every hour.” 

“Why d’you think he was late this morning?” Tsabed added. 

“Off to peek in her window again,” Kelzaer accused. 

“Our own little stalker,” Nymin concluded, his sarcasm barbed with malice. “Giving us well behaved men bad reputations everywhere we go.” 

Ardyn was staring at Dreder as if seeing him for the first time, a look of fury etched into his features. 

Dreder let his own fury roll off of him in waves. He let loose a string of foul suggestions of activities Nymin—and the rest of his squad—could participate in, thoroughly violating his self-imposed ban on profanity in the process. 

It only made them laugh louder. 

Turning away in disgust, Dreder resumed his study of the wall. He didn’t owe any of them, especially Ardyn, an explanation. True, had they been in Menzoberranzan, and had Nymin been shouting his accusations in the streets, he might have had cause to be concerned. The crimes they called out were capital offenses, and thorough investigation wasn’t something most Matrons had time for. 

But none of it was true, and the only person who needed to be aware of how proper and respectful his behavior toward Ti’yana had been was Ti’yana herself. The others could go… participate in crude activities. 

“C’mon, Ti’glath,” Guldax called, his tone cajoling as he stowed the map back in his pack. “We’re just messing with you. Let’s move out.” 

Dreder replied with a rude hand gesture. “I’ll catch up.” 

That silenced them all, and Dreder resisted the urge to smirk. 

After a moment, Guldax said, “You’re wasting your time. Your girl isn’t even going to understand the significance of what you’re trying to do. They breed them differently here.” 

“Breed?” Ardyn growled, but as usual, he was completely ignored. 

“She might,” Dreder insisted, though deep down he suspected Guldax was right. 

Ti’yana’s world was so different from his own. How could she know that where he came from, showing preference for a woman could get him whipped? How could she understand the lengths that men would go to in order to make their audacity so impressive, the woman they’d develop an attachment to would let it slide, and maybe even return their favor, if they were impressed enough? 

She probably couldn’t, because her world was safe. She didn’t understand how dangerous it was to leave the city alone in search of precious stones. She didn’t understand what it could cost a man to expose his belly to a woman who might just take the jewels along with his entrails. That sort of behavior didn’t seem to be tolerated in Launa. 

But that didn’t mean Dreder wasn’t going to try.

“Fine,” Guldax spat. “You don’t want to come, you don’t have to. But don’t come crying after us when the cave crawlers get you.” 

“What cave crawlers?” Dreder retorted. “There isn’t anything out here. I’ll catch up in a minute.” 

There was some murmured debate amongst themselves, then Guldax gave the command, and the squad rose. Ardyn alone stood still, looking from Dreder to the rest. 

“You’re serious?” the gloam-drow finally said, his previous hatred replaced by surprise. “You’re really going to just abandon him?”

“Well we’re not gonna wait around while he chases a fantasy,” Guldax shot back. “You coming, tag-along?”

“But it’s dangerous…” Ardyn said, still seeming in shock. “At the very least, we know there are drow out here, killers.” 

“You’re looking at them,” Sarric muttered. 

“But—”

“Look,” Guldax said. “The kid made his choice. It’s a stupid choice, but it’s his. I’m not wasting my energy trying to educate him. If it means that much to you, then you can stay and babysit him.” 

Dreder didn’t wait for their bickering to finish, moving on down the tunnel in the direction from which they had come, his eyes adhered to the mineral veins. Whatever they decided didn’t matter to him. He was on his own mission now.  

Smothering silence enveloped him as his squad finally moved on, their footsteps perfectly impossible to detect, and Dreder relaxed. 

Finally, peace. 

Something the Underdark wasn’t supposed to be known for, but he found comforting all the same. At least in Menzoberranzan he could escape his teammates in between missions, or take on solo work. This Launa job was starting to wear him down, with their limited boundaries of where they were allowed to roam. He was going to enjoy this isolation while it lasted. 

Or, so he thought. 

A whisper of fabric rustled just behind his back, and Dreder’s hand found the hilt of his sword before his brain could fully comprehend the alarm bells going off in his head, drawing the weapon and spinning around.

Ardyn froze, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Really?” He looked underwhelmed. 

“What the… What’re you still doing here?” 

“Babysitting, apparently.” He hoisted his pack over one shoulder and trudged toward him. “I may not like you, but I won’t be able to live with myself if something eats you.” 

Dreder snorted, turning back to his scrutiny of the wall. “Well that’s stupid. Anything strong enough to eat me will have no problems washing my corpse down with you.” 

“There’s safety in numbers,” Ardyn said, either ignoring the jab at his skills or missing it completely.  

“Which is why I expected you to go running off with the rest.” 

“Like I said,” Ardyn grumbled. “Wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Dreder glanced at him, lips pursed, hackles raised, not believing Ardyn for a second. No one just took risks for the sake of resting easier, and especially not for their enemies. That was how lifespans got quartered. 

“Look, if you’re just waiting for the opportunity to stab me in the back, let’s just get this over with.” Dreder twirled his blade in a pointless, yet artful display. “I’ve been itching to know what skills your father passed on to you, anyway.” 

Ardyn’s frown became a dark mask of disdain, and Dreder braced himself, ready for the attempted murder that was so clearly written on Ardyn’s face.

Yet rather than draw his own weapons, the gloam-drow crossed his arms. “Nothing.” 

“Come again?”

“I learned nothing from my father,” Ardyn said, his bleak tone sharper than Dreder’s blade. “He was too busy teaching brats like you. Now could you just finish up whatever game you’re playing? We need to follow the others before they get too far ahead. Your stupidity is risking all our lives.” 

Dreder gaped at him as he brushed by.

“What’re you looking for, anyway?” Ardyn asked, now officially saying more words than Dreder had ever heard from him before. “I’ll help, if it’ll speed this up.” 

He might as well have been speaking a foreign language. This had to be a trap. Some elaborate prank to lure him in with trust before gutting him like a fish. Perhaps the gloam-drow didn’t think he could win in open, honest combat, so he devised a not-so-clever scheme.  

Whatever his reasons, Dreder snapped his jaw shut and returned to the scrutiny of the wall, keeping a wary watch on Ardyn out of the corner of his eye. “Anything but malachite,” Dreder answered. “Bornite would be ideal but I’ll settle for azurite or turquoise.” 

Ardyn stiffened. “So it’s true, then? What they said about you and Ti’yana?”

Despite the impending threat looming in his words, Dreder’s heart skipped a beat. Ardyn understood the connection between crystal-hunting and girl-hunting. Which meant he understood the significance, and if he understood, then maybe Ti’yana would too.

His pulse increased as he pictured the smile he was sure to receive when he presented her with an ocean blue azurite pendant. Or maybe a clip for her hair. Girls liked that sort of thing, right? Why had he never paid more attention to what girls liked? 

Oh, right. Because he was focusing on surviving his education. 

“Well?” Ardyn demanded, drawing Dreder back to the question at hand. 

What were they talking about again? Right, him and Ti’yana. “Which part?” he asked, continuing down the tunnel. This copper deposit was massive. 

“The part about you stalking her.” 

Dreder laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m not stupid. That’s how you get your eyes gouged out.” And worse, but some maimings didn’t need to be mentioned. 

“Then why would they say it?”

“What, you’ve never been hazed by your squad before?” 

“No.” 

Dreder hesitated, once more taking his eyes from the copper vein to study the gloam-drow. If he was a liar, he was one of the best Dreder had ever met. His simple, single syllable carried no bluster, no pride, nor even contempt. Dreder had asked him a question, and the answer to the question had been no.

Launa was such a weird place.

“Oh, well.” Dreder shrugged. “You’re missing out on a good time.”

“They treat you so terribly.” 

Dreder withheld an exasperated sigh. Had Ardyn missed his obvious sarcasm, or did he just really enjoy pointing out the obvious? “Yeah, well, scat happens.”

“Scat?” The gloam-drow wrinkled his nose. “Don’t you mean—”

“No,” Dreder snapped, cutting him off with perhaps a little more force than necessary. He couldn’t quite help himself, though. It was bad enough he had to change his entire vocabulary, did he have to be called out on it too? “I don’t.” 

When Ardyn just looked at him, Dreder tossed up his hand. 

“I’m watching my tongue,” he explained, even though Ardyn didn’t deserve an explanation. “Riz says Ti’yana doesn’t like coarse language.” 

“So you are stalking her!”

“No, I’m courting her affection,” Dreder said, with a roll of his eyes. They really did breed their drow differently out here. “Respectably. You can ask Riz if you don’t believe me.” Then, under his breath, he added, “Why does everyone assume I’m a stalker?” 

“Gee, I dunno,” Ardyn replied, though Dreder had meant it as a rhetorical question. “Maybe it’s where you come from. Or the company you keep. Or the profession you’ve chosen.” 

They rounded a bend and found themselves in a wider chamber, a small forest of stalagmites clawing for the ceiling while their stalactite brethren reached down to meet them. A few of the pairs had already collided, forming hourglass columns. A narrow crevice cut through the center, and loose chunks of stone littered the cavern floor. 

They’d passed through here before, and Dreder hadn’t cared much for the scenery then. Just generic blue tones typical of any normal cave. Now it was a treasure trove of potential. 

Dreder dropped to his knees, sifting through the stone even as he continued his argument with the tag-along. “You know, you Sanctuary folk sure do think highly of yourselves for a people who claim to be all about love and tolerance, when you don’t actually live it out.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I keep hearing about how great and wonderful and kind and accepting your goddess and community are,” Dreder said, lifting a stone to his light. A thrill coursed through him at the sight of a deep blue stain. Jackpot! He tucked it into his pouch and searched for another. “But when it comes to celebrating her, you kick us out to do your dirty work. So, what, she takes everyone but mercenaries?”

“That’s not—you aren’t—” But he fell silent, just as he had when Dreder had pointed out that his faerie friend had no business on a drow hunt. Proof that Dreder was right once more.

Yet after another false start, Ardyn finally ground out, “If you don’t want to be treated like miscreants, then don’t act like miscreants.”

Dreder barked a wry laugh. “Now there’s a novel idea,” he muttered, rising to his feet. There were more stones on the other side of the crevice. 

“I mean it,” Ardyn insisted, tailing him. “I’ve watched you all. I see how you treat each other, how you treat me. The elves who came to Launa came here to escape that. What Davion said at the gate was out of line, I’ll admit that. But you have to admit that you all haven’t exactly made your company appealing.” 

If Dreder happened to care about Ardyn’s opinions of his behavior, he might have been offended. He might have felt the need to point out that he was, in general, behaving as a model citizen, usually only escaping Dock Road when Riz or Solaurin escorted him and generally leaving Ti’yana alone unless she spoke to him first, as a proper suitor should. Ardyn’s accusations were as unfounded as his squadmates.

But Dreder didn’t care. So he moved along, hopping over the narrow crevice to the other side of the chamber. 

Yet when his feet hit the ground, he froze. 

What… what was that? 

He spun, bringing his lights over the crevice and staring down into what should have been a too-narrow-to-matter crack in the ground. 

His heart stopped.

“Hey, Xarrin,” he called, his voice barely above a whisper in his shock.

“You bicker and fight,” Ardyn went on, apparently not catching on to the shift in Dreder’s mood and attention. “You repay kindness with insult.” 

“Xarrin,” Dreder said again, more insistently, his eyes riveted on the bottom of the crevice. 

“We do accept people of every background, but those people want a different life, they want—”

“Ardyn!” Dreder hissed, and finally, the gloam-drow shut up, glaring at him. 

Dreder jabbed his hook toward the crevice. “Is that your father?” 

Ardyn went very, very still, the color draining from his face. “If this is a joke…” 

Dreder scowled. “No, it’s not a joke,” he said, gesturing again to the crumpled heap of a drow who lay at the bottom of the shallow crevice. 

He’d like to say with confidence that the elf was indeed Torafein Xarrin, but  he only resembled the ghost of him. Gaunt and pale, with his hair shorn close to his scalp. And besides, it had been over a year since Dreder had last seen his old teacher. 

Slowly, far more slowly than Dreder felt the situation called for, Ardyn approached the crevice. When he finally looked down, he sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Da,” he said, before leaping down after his broken wreck of a father without even assessing if the situation was safe first. 

Dreder just watched, hand on his hilt, as he ran calculations through his head. Hadn’t they come through this cavern on their way in? Hadn’t they all skipped over this exact same crevice, without anyone noticing what lay at the bottom? 

That didn’t bode well for the condition of his old teacher. If he wasn’t producing enough bodyheat to make him stand out against the cold stone, he was probably a goner. How close they’d come to not finding him at all! How many other patrols had walked right past him?

Ardyn was nearly too broad to get to his father, but he somehow managed to wedge himself down before him. “Da,” he groaned again, putting a hand on the older elf’s shoulder. “Da, please.” 

His voice broke on the words, and Dreder had the sudden sensation that he was an intruder in a bizarre scenario. The affection between parents and children was still a relatively new concept to him, and he’d only witnessed it thus far in the bond between Ti’yana and her father, which had been mostly manifested as doting and adoring.

Seeing Ardyn this way, hearing the break in his voice, felt wrong. Like he shouldn’t be here. Like his presence stained the moment somehow. Like Ardyn should be alone to… what, mourn? Was that what was happening before him?

And yet, as Ardyn shook Torafein slightly, the old corpse warmed over, his eyes shooting open, his hands swiping at Ardyn as if he were an enemy. 

Dreder jumped, startled as one of his favorite swears escaped his lips before he could catch it. 

Ardyn dodged the swiping hands and caught his father’s wrists. “Da, it’s me! Ardyn! We’ve got you, you’re safe now.” 

If Dreder had been down in that crack, with Torafein’s wild gaze fixed on him like that, he’d be backing up right about now. The emaciated warrior looked rabid.

But Ardyn leaned in, wrapping his arms around Torafein’s frail frame. “We’ve found you. It’s alright. It’s me.”

For a moment, Torafein looked like he was going to snap his son’s neck, his breath coming ragged and heavy. But then he relaxed, sagging against the stone wall. “Ardyn,” he croaked.

Ardyn leaned back, his broad smile transforming his character entirely. “That’s right, it’s me. Can you walk? We’re a little ways from Launa but we’ll get you there.” 

Torafein frowned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around, before they landed on Dreder. His brow furrowed deeper. “Ti’glath?” He looked again to Ardyn. “Is this real?” 

Ardyn laughed, and the sound suited him. Like he was made to laugh, not brood. “It’s a long story. You’ve missed a lot. C’mon, get up. We need to move.” 

“Wait,” Torafein said, gripping the sleeve of his arm. “Tell me a lie.”

A lie? Dreder cocked an eyebrow. 

“Seriously, Da?” The younger Xarrin sounded exasperated. When his father just stared at him with that impenetrable mask Dreder had come to know so well, Ardyn sighed. “Fine. I was happy to see you when I got home.” 

The look of sheer relief that washed over Torafein’s face was all wrong. He clasped Ardyn’s shoulder, his glacial expression melting into more emotion than Dreder thought the warrior capable of feeling. “My son,” he said, and with it came the return of that weird feeling that Dreder ought not be here. 

“What happened, Da?” Ardyn asked. “You look like you’ve been tortured. And Miss Crysla… is she… is she…?

“Later,” was all Torafein said. “I need… healing.”

Ardyn nodded. “Give me a hand, Dreder,” he said, as he helped Torafein to stand. The father leaned heavily on his son, as though he lacked the strength to hold up what little weight remained on his frame. 

Really? Give me a hand? Dreder scoffed and crossed his arms. “Can’t,” he said. “I don’t have a spare hand to give.” 

“You know what I mean!” Ardyn snapped.

But Dreder was already moving, clambering down beside him to take up Torafein’s other arm, because yes, he knew what he meant and yes, he could appreciate that this was going to require his help. “Yeah well, you don’t have to be so insensitive about it.”

“Seriously?” Ardyn glanced askance at him. “That’s what you’re choosing to take offense to?” 

They hoisted Torafein between them, and Dreder wrinkled his nose. He didn’t just look like a corpse, he smelled like one, too. Definitely not a good sign. “Can you levitate, tag-along?” 

“Yeah,” Ardyn said, surprising Dreder by not arguing. 

Without any further coordination, they kicked off the ground, their magic catching them before gravity could. They drifted upward and settled on the side of the chamber where Dreder had been hoping to scrounge up some more azurite. 

“We should get the others,” Ardyn said. “Do you have some way to communicate with them?” 

“No,” said Dreder, with a scornful laugh. He tapped the rune he wore around his neck. “Only works one way, and I’m bottom of the barrel.”

“One of us will have to run, then,” Arydn said, then swore. “The caverns fork up ahead. Do you remember which fork they were planning to take? We don’t have time to be wrong.” 

Dreder merely shrugged. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Seriously!?”

That seemed to be a favorite word of his. 

“What?” Dreder said, defensive. “I didn’t know there was a fork and I was busy. You obviously weren’t or you wouldn’t be asking me.”

“I was distracted by your impudence.” 

“Boys,” Torafein growled, and Dreder jumped. He’d almost forgotten the warrior was still alive, let alone conscious. “Squabble on your own time. We need to get back to Launa. Immediately. Lives depend on it.”

For an elf who couldn’t support his own frame without assistance, he sure could command a cavern. Dreder and Ardyn exchanged brief glances over his head, then set off at once, half dragging, half carrying the sickly warrior back toward the city. 

Dreder let his dancing lights wink out, plunging them into darkness as they left the copper chamber behind. He’d only snagged one chunk of azurite, but that concern had dropped to the bottom rung of his list. 

They didn’t speak again. They just trudged on, through tunnel after tunnel, until at length, the welcome sound of the thunderous waterfall rose over their steady breathing. Up ahead, a rosy glow painted the tunnel wall a dull red, enough to flicker their vision into the natural spectrum, as if tendrils of the Launite cavern reached out to greet them.

“Finally,” Dreder muttered. Just one more bend to go and then they’d see the city. 

Torafein must have sensed it as well. His whole body suddenly tensed. Then he was moving, scrambling, disentangling himself from their support and shuffling forward, as if the taste of home had awoken a fervent hunger in his soul. 

“Da!” Ardyn called, as his father surged ahead. 

Torafein didn’t make it far before he tripped, sprawling face first on the stone.

Ardyn rushed to him, but Dreder looked away, ashamed to see the elf he’d admired so greatly fall from such heights. This was the elf he’d been plotting his revenge against for over a year? He wasn’t convinced the gods hadn’t beaten him to it.

It wasn’t enough to just look away. Dreder turned his whole back, and that single act of disappointment was the only thing that saved his life. 

Dreder barely had time to make sense of a black-bladed sword cleaving straight for his face. There was no time to draw his own weapon. No time to shout. No time to duck or roll out of the way.  

All Dreder could do was raise his right hand to block the downward descent of the weapon. 

His right hand, which happened to be made of the highest quality drowcrafted adamantium his coffers could afford. And even in his exile, his coffers ran deep. 

The clang and shower of sparks was enough to alert Ardyn to the danger, as evidenced by his swearing, while Dreder braced his hook with his good hand, grunting from the effort of holding back the sword of Toloruel Tear. 

Toloruel. Bloody. Tear. 

Son of a b… matron. He should have known.

“I remember you,” Toloruel said, offering him the barest hint of a smile. “The boy from the bar.” 

He reared back and Dreder took the opportunity to wrench his own blade from its scabbard, just in time to parry the next attack. But his footing was all wrong, and he nearly lost his balance.

“The boy who lost his hand to my little brother.” 

This was bad. This was really, really bad. They shouldn’t have traveled without their whole squad, they should have taken the time to fetch them. Dreder wasn’t stupid; he was an excellent swordsman.

But Toloruel was a legend. 

“The outcast from House Ti’glath,” Toloruel concluded, his sword swiping with each statement. 

Dreder gave more ground with each attack, barely defending the blood in his veins. He was vaguely aware of Ardyn and Torafein at his back, was fairly certain he’d heard weapons drawn somewhere between the ringing of steel on steel, but it did him little good. The tunnel was too narrow to make room for an ally. 

And then, Toloruel stopped. One moment he’d been stabbing relentlessly, the next, he hesitated, staying in a ready position, but no longer advancing. 

Dreder took two more steps back, finally able to adopt a proper stance.  

Toloruel smiled, like he found him adorable. “We all heard you were a disappointment,” he said. “But did you have to be a traitor, too?” 

Dreder narrowed his eyes. Melee-Magthere didn’t teach them to talk through their fights, and they certainly didn’t teach them not to press the advantage while they had it. So what was Toloruel doing? Taunting him? Playing with him? 

“Who the hell are you?” Came Ardyn’s growl, from somewhere just over Dreder’s shoulder. 

“Oh? Does my reputation not proceed me?” His eyes flicked from Dreder to Ardyn and back. “Would you like to handle introductions or should I?” 

Something wasn’t right. He was talking entirely too much. His reputation did proceed him, and from what little Dreder knew of the infamous eldest son of House Tear, this kind of chatter didn’t suit him. 

Granted, he’d never met the elf personally. Only stood in a class while he presented. And to think, back then he’d wanted to grow up to be just like him. Funny how priorities changed, though he wouldn’t mind dipping into that same level of notoriety, and skill, and maybe fearsome—

Focus, Dreder. 

He dared a glance over his shoulder, assessing what was behind him. Ardyn stood close, weapons drawn, as he’d suspected. Torafein had managed to pull himself to his feet, but he leaned heavily against a wall, and his breathing was already labored. 

Gods, they were so close. So close to getting him back to Launa, to earning himself a nice fat reward and the admiration of Ti’yana, to—

Wait a moment, that was it. 

“You must have missed my handy work on the bodies we left in the river,” Toloruel said, his attention now fixed on Ardyn. “But I’m sure you can admire what I’ve done to your… father, I presume?” His lips curled in disgust over the word. 

And of course, it worked. Ardyn cried out in wordless fury, attempting to shove past Dreder to get to Toloruel, but Dreder was onto the game now. His hook snaked around Ardyn’s rising arm and he yanked the gloam-drow back with enough force to pierce the sleeve of his adamantium armor and send him staggering back. 

“Take your father and get out of here,” Dreder hissed, when Ardyn turned his big, innocent, faerie drow eyes on him, betrayal written all over his features. 

“What?” 

“Get Torafein and go.” 

“I’m not running like a coward!” 

“Oh for the love of…” Dreder shook his head. “Look, if you want to make his day, by all means, run in like an idiot so he can mince you up. But if you want to really piss off the elf who tortured your father, you’ll hightail it around the corner and throw the biggest godsdamned tantrum you can and maybe get some of the Launites off the wall to reinforce us!”  

An ugly look overtook Toloruel’s face, confirming Dreder’s suspicions. Toloruel wasn’t taunting them for fun. He just didn’t want to get too close to the source of light behind them, as he rightfully assumed it came from civilization.

He’d probably stalked them the entire way here, waiting for them to show him the way to Launa, making a gamble of when close enough would become too close: And now that they’d reached the turning point, the last thing he wanted was for Torafein to take back whatever  knowledge of his plans he possessed. 

It’s what Dreder would have done, at least.

Realization dawned on Ardyn’s face as he glanced from their enemy to the red light painting the wall behind them. “But you…you’ll be alone…” 

“Please,” Dreder said, sneering for good measure. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a godsdamned prodigy.” He twirled his sword for good measure, though it was all for show. There was no reality in which he survived a one-on-one duel with Toloruel. 

He just had to survive long enough for Ardyn to get reinforcements. And that, he was fairly certain he could do. Probaby. 

Maybe. 

“If we both run he’ll overtake us,” Dreder murmured. “One of us has to stay and keep him busy. So get going, and don’t you dare abandon me out here or I swear to both Seldarines I will haunt you for eternity.” 

Ardyn hesitated for one precarious heartbeat, looking torn, before he spun on his heel and rushed back toward the city. 

Toloruel cursed and drew a throwing knife, hurling it past Dreder’s head. 

Dreder tried to knock it aside, but his reflexes weren’t quite that well tuned, and the knife landed with a sickening thud and a cry of pain. There was no point looking to see who it hit, nor what their condition was. He just had to hope one of them made it and did their job.

Which left Dreder to hold up his end of the plan. He surged forward, slashing at Toloruel with his blade to prevent him from getting off another throwing knife, and of course, Toloruel deflected his attack easily, drawing his second sword. 

“Aren’t you a clever little boy,” he hissed, as the flurry of slashes began. 

He was so fast.

Dreder parried what he could, dodged what he couldn’t, and found tiny scratches materializing up his arms and across his chest, as though his adamantium armor was made of ordinary silk.

He just had to survive until help arrived. Just had to survive—

Pain burned across his side as he misread a feint, earning him his first deeper wound. Not quite serious, but definitely concerning. Dreder winced, pulling back instinctively, and Toloruel made to dart around him.

No way, not on his watch. 

Dreder spun, and just as he had with Ardyn, he lashed out with his hook. But where with Ardyn he’d intended to catch, not wound, with Toloruel, he didn’t care. 

The tip of his hook dug into the warrior’s shoulder, stopping his forward momentum, and Dreder jerked him back, thrusting for his stomach as he did so. 

Toloruel growled and managed to pivot out of the way of his stab. From over his shoulder, Dreder just made out Ardyn’s form limping out of view. 

Curse it all, they’d only made it that far? He must have taken the throwing knife, and it affected his movement. 

But that was all Dreder had time to conclude before he was back on the defensive, and this time the ground he gave was away from the city.

“I was going to let you live,” Toloruel snarled, as blood dribbled from the puncture wound Dreder had left him. “I liked you, boy. And unlike my sister I appreciate you’re just here to get paid.” 

He dropped his second sword and brought his black blade cleaving down once more with both hands, and the shock of blocking it sent stinging pain up Dreder’s sword arm. 

“You’re not wrong,” Dreder said through clenched teeth, as Toloruel bore his weight down on the blade. “Not personal, just professional.” 

“That’s too bad,” Toloruel said, arching back for another downward cleave. 

Dreder raised his sword again, preparing for the block, but at the last second, Toloruel changed direction, his sword slithering around Dreder’s defenses and right into his middle. 

Everything went very still, and very cold. 

Dreder coughed, tasting iron. He didn’t so much feel the sharpness of the blade in his gut as he felt the impact of the force. He staggered back, intellectually understanding that he should probably start running away, but his body wouldn’t move. 

Fingers closed around his throat, and he was smashed against the stone wall, with Toloruel’ viscous smile looming in front of him. 

“Take a message to my Kitty for me,” he said, raising a knife to the side of his face. “Let her know I’m coming to collect her.” 

He dragged the knife down the side of Dreder’s face, and all Dreder could think was, so that’s how Riz got his scar. 

His vision swam in and out of focus, as he desperately willed his hooked hand to move, to rise up and defend him just like he’d practiced. What was the point of always having a weapon if the weapon was useless to him? Why wasn’t his arm obeying? 

Well, if the hook wasn’t working, maybe his hand would come through for him. It seemed to have lost its grasp on his sword, but he had other weapons. Dreder patted around his belt for something, anything, and felt a smile creep onto his face as his hand closed around his hand crossbow.

At this range, he couldn’t miss, and he always kept it drawn and loaded. 

The way Toloruel’s eyes widened when the dart pierced through his belly was immensely satisfying. He stumbled backward, and Dreder slumped to the cavern floor, continuing to grin at him. He wondered, idly, what would happen first; would he bleed out or would the sleep toxin take its toll on Toloruel? 

Toloruel didn’t seem inclined to want to find out. He removed his hand from the wound, saw the red that coated it, turned, and fled. 

The bloody coward. 

Blackness took Dreder, a soft, warm swoon that was rudely interrupted by shouting. So much shouting, so many voices. Then he was being jostled, and pain exploded in his abdomen.

Was this how Riz’s girl had felt when Gylas had stabbed her? It had been Dreder’s fault that happened. He’d started the game. 

Wait, why did he care? Why did that thought cross his mind? 

Ugh, and why were there so many voices? He just wanted to sleep. 

Finally, he was laid down. Not necessarily on something soft, but at least something flat. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the blackness once more was a stern voice shouting, “Someone go find a priestess!”

Disclaimer: Forsaken by Shadows is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.