The Apostate Ch. 04

"Not quite," Lura said from the side. She whispered a charm, and Sune's glory flowed through her body. She held forth her symbol of Sune, hitherto hidden, and radiance cast forth from it. The drow was blinded, but he saw enough.

"Apostate!" he shouted, momentarily blinded.

Hammer's sword sliced cleanly through the blinded drow's neck.

Solafein fell in a heap, his head rolling down the cavern floor, stopping right by Lirafey and Shandra, who were limping into the scene of the battle just in time to see the symbol of Sune and Hammer's true form.

"Apostate!" Shandra gasped, fumbling to prepare a spell, but Lirafey seized her by the arm, interrupting her casting. Hammer and Lura were at the ready, prepared to react but not prepared to take the initiative in this engagement.

"Be silent, Shandra," Lirafey said, folding her arms under her breasts. She addressed Lura, saying, "I know the truth, Luriia Torviir. You've been an apostate for years, and have deceived us thus far. Well played, by the way. I can't say I regret being seduced by you, it was quite pleasurable. Even your human, much to my regret, pleased me better than most drow males ever have. Your mother awaits you even now, likely for some sort of sacrifice. She knows you are coming."

"How can you know that," Lura asked.

"I've fucked more of your sisters than are currently alive," Lirafey said with a laugh. "Even high priestesses get loose tongues when their cunts have been plied properly, and I have just enough in my pocket that I could contact them through my battle-captive while we went ahead to 'scout'."

Lura seemed to seethe a little. Hammer gripped his greatsword more firmly, preparing to defend his lover.

"Don't worry, errant daughter," Lirafey said. "I'm not taking you to House Torviir. Not yet, leastwise. There are some people who would meet with you first."

"What people?" Lura asked.

"You will see soon enough. Apostates, one and all, and some of them aren't even drow. Somehow, an underground network of people has found footing in Menzoberranzan. They knew of your return, and they will pay me a large sum of money to arrange that."

"Interesting," Lura said to herself.

"Indeed it is," Lirafey said. "I wouldn't get too comfortable, though. I mean to betray them at the earliest convenience."

"Naturally," Lura said, smirking. "Let's be off then."

"What?" Hammer said, not moving. The tip of his greatsword dipped to the floor. "She just told you she would betray those who would save you from your mother."

"And if they do not know that, then they were doomed to die anyway. I trust they have contingencies in place for such a betrayal. They live in a city filled with drow who treat betrayal as foreplay, after all." She smiled, touched Hammer's cheek. "Fear not, my warrior. Sune is with us."

Hammer relaxed and sheathed his sword. "I trust you," he said, putting his large hand on Lura's slender shoulder. "Lead on."

"That's a good boy," Lirafey said. She took Shandra by the arm and led them down the remaining corridors leading to the first outpost outside of Menzoberranzan. "We will reach the outpost Lolchrae before the end of the day and lodge there for the night. The next day we will make contact with one of the apostates, who will pay me and take you into his protection."

Lura nodded. "Well enough."

****

Kelaxle's cock thrummed inside Myrynda's needy cunt for the third time. She felt his hot seed filling her womb, then his cock, well-worn, flagging inside her canal. Her body ached, dripped perspiration, and had been fucked in so many different ways that she'd forgotten half of them.

She and Kelaxle were lodged in the Black Web, a drow-run establishment in Lolchrae, the outpost Myrynda figured was most likely for her sister to pass through. It was an opulent place for an outpost, but then, drow spared little expense when it came to simple pleasures. There was a bottle of decadent wine on their bedside, much of which had been poured over Myrynda's slender body, staining her spidersilk undergarments as Kelaxle drank his fill right from her flesh.

Some had even entered her loins, which burned pleasantly as it flowed out and into Kelaxle's mouth during one of his many oral sessions betwixt her thighs.

Her mind was pleasantly fogged with the alcohol and enough orgasms to make her vulva raw and sore. As Kelaxle withdrew his cock, she felt her flesh burning from the friction, and not in a pleasant way.

"I think that's enough for tonight," she said, walking with a limp away from the bed for a bit more wine. She drank straight from the bottle. Her hair was a mess, sticking to her damp skin, and her thighs were stained from her own squirt and Kel's jizz. "You've worn me properly."

"I live to serve," Kelaxle said with a grin. "Truly, we could wait a fortnight for your sister's return and I'd not complain a bit. I'll take sparring between your thighs over sparring with the other warriors of our House any day."

"I've never heard you complain about your 'sparring' with the other males," she said, smirking. Kelaxle was notorious for his carnal predilections, and they were in no way limited to the female companionship. She eyed him again like the meat-candy he was. Slender, almost too much so, but packed with taut, agile muscle, he was skilled with rapier and dagger, but not so much with heavier weapons. His strength was in quickness and guile, not in brute force.

She appreciated his lighter form, though. Not that the drow were particularly big to begin with, but he was more effeminate than most, and that appealed to her own predilections. His sexual flexibility appealed to her, because of her own flexibility. She wanted someone she could share cocks and cunts with. And Kelaxle did precisely that in ways her "sisters" never could.

"I admit, there are times when it's not so bad," he said with a sly grin. He ran his hand through short-cropped hair and rolled over to lay on his stomach. Myrynda couldn't help but eye his bottom. "But I've always preferred your flavor. It's sweet, succulent, with just a hint of spice for life that most males wouldn't even know how to appreciate."

"You flatter," she said, toweling off her body with a long, silky cloth. "I taste like pussy."

"That's what I meant," Kel said with a chuckle.

"You better put that ass away before I find something to fuck you with," Myrynda snapped.

Kel only bounced his ass for her, then threw the blanket on the bed over his body. "I'm for sleep. Keep watch, darling, and I'll relieve you in a few hours."

"You've relieved me enough for one day," she quipped, amused with her own humor. He didn't bother replying. Myrynda set up near a window, not so close that she could be spotted and with just enough field of view that she wouldn't miss her sister's arrival via the only tunnel leading into Lolchrae.

"Where are you, dear sister," Myrynda asked, remembering the last time she'd seen Luriia Torviir. There was nothing special about the day. It was just another day in House Torviir. Some dignitaries form another drow city had come to visit the Ruling Houses and hand wandered down to the Bazaar to peruse the vast array of mercantilism, and from there to Manyfolk District, where House Torviir and her closest allies all dwelt.

Myrynda had been too young to partake in the festivities at that time in her life. Not out of any sort of propriety, but out of seniority. She old enough to join Arach-tinilith, the academy for priestesses, but her mother insisted on home-schooling her the ways of Lolth. It had not been wholly unpleasant, and had nurtured her particular tastes for life. Even the lashings brought a measure of enjoyment to the fledgling priestess.

In truth, she was more than matured enough to appeal to the visiting matrons and their retinues, which ranged from high priestesses to slave drivers to House wizards. But there were more than a dozen of her elder sisters waiting in line to work their charms on the visitors for information, pleasure, and all manner of other rewards. Luriia had come to her in her chambers rather than attending the festivities.

They'd kissed deeply for a long while, holding each other.

"You know I must. You know I'm not like the rest," Luriia said. "My dear, sweet Myrynda. How I wish I could bring you with me. The World Above is filled with opportunity for souls such as us."

"I understand," Myrynda said, weeping into her sister's shoulder. She thumbed the token her sister had just given her: a porcelain carving of a woman's face, eyes closed and red-painted lips smiling, with red hair flowing like a halo all around.

"I will come back for you, some day, when the time is right," Luriia said, kissing her sister on the forehead. "You have my word."

Myrynda dried her weepy eyes and looked up at her sister's golden eyes. They were five decades apart, yet she'd always felt they were as one soul. "I don't believe you," she said, frowning. "You'll lose yourself up there, under the sun. It will burn away your love for me as it burns your flesh. And if it doesn't kill you, the surfacers will."

Luriia looked wounded, as if her sister had slit her throat. "Myr..."

"No," Myrynda said, shaking her head and pushing Luriia away. "Don't call me that anymore."

"Sister..."

"I don't love you," she snapped, hardening her visage. Luriia sat bolt upright. Tears formed around her eyes. "Goddess take you."

Myrynda watched a tear flow down her sister's delicate cheek just before the former deathsinger and high priestess turned and left her room.

Myrynda wept now, remembering their parting. She'd been just a foolish girl. The teachings of Lolth were always lost on her, and Luriia was the only one who spoke truth into her heart. Love, passion, honesty, devotion, all of those things made up her soul, and she had been masking them for years since Luriia had left.

Depression had swallowed the young priestess whole. Her skin still bore the scars, self-inflicted from her own self-loathing for dismissing her elder sister in such a way. The pain had been a release for her. Until, of course, Nhil came into her life. Nhil had unlocked her heart in a way that Luriia never had. With sex, submission, sensual torture, and a form of erotic degradation that Myrynda had yearned for in her younger years, Nhil had taken Myrynda wholly, made her a willing slave to her physical needs and discarding her afterward, leaving the priestess yearning for more. Nhil's attention, though entirely selfish, was laced with a deceiving sense of love that Myrynda came to crave.

It was only by the teachings Luriia had given her that she escaped form Nhil's thrall, mentally if not physically. In truth, she enjoyed the way Nhil fucked her. But she was no longer emotionally enslaved by the priestess, as Nhil thought. What an enjoyable moment that would be, Myrynda ruminated, when she turned the tables on Nhil, showing her the truth of her heart.

A heart that belonged to Luriia Torviir, not Nhil Torviir. To Sune, rather than Lolth.

To herself, above all others.

Myrynda smiled, felt a tingle course through her body, and walked over to Kelaxle.

"Get up," she said, thrusting her hand up between his thighs. Her thumb prodded his anus and her fingers pinched his shaft.

Kel was hard before he was awake.

*****

Hammer had his mask back on as they approached the outpost Lolchrae, immersing himself back into the drow guise. It would not do to walk in his natural form amidst an outpost teeming with drow and their slaves. The Black Web was to their left, marked by the large sign of petrified mushroom with a black spider's web painted on and a trio of courtesans—two female and one male—wearing black masks and nearly nothing else. Their charms were hidden by the scantest of silk swatches, easily removed.

To their right was the guard post, a contingent of drow soldiers manning. They had sent out two of said soldiers to intercept Lirafey before she could lead them properly into the outpost.

"Who are you, and what is your business," the drow demanded.

"I am Lirafey Mourlefey," she said, displaying her House insignia, "accompanied by my battle-captive, who does not bear naming, Cirily Torviir of House Torviir, and her consort, who also does not bear naming."

"I was not aware that House Mourlefey was recalling one of her daughters," the soldier said, his face stern. "No matter, though. House Torviir has sent a welcoming party. She and her companion are lodged in the Black Web. I suggest you go their first."

"Keep your suggestions to yourself, male," Lirafey said. "I have my own business to attend to. If House Torviir wishes to control my movements with her daughter, then she can go through Matron Mourlefey."

"As you say, Mistress," the soldier said, backing away returning to his post with his comrade.

"Well played," Lura said to Lirafey. "I had not expected that."

"You've been away too long. The ways of the drow do not come naturally to you anymore, it would seem."

"Thank Sune," Lura said aloud.

"And keep that to yourself," Lirafey said. "I'll not tolerate much heresy. The apostates want you, but they did not specify how I was to deliver you."

Lura smirked. She knew she was beyond Lirafey's ability, but submitted anyway. "What's the play, then? Surely whoever my mother has sent knows we have arrived now."

"Indeed. Fortunately for you, that will not be an issue. Come," Lirafey said, leading them beyond the Black Web. The garrison's barracks were on the right, across from the rooming house and behind the outpost. Other than those structures, Lolchrae was populated with a variety of craftsmen of middling ability, a provisioner's wagon-house, and rental housing for visitors of all sort. Buildings were either carved into natural rock formations or built from imported wood or petrified fungus, which was plentiful around Menzoberranzan.

To Hammer's delight, the courtesans of the Black Web did not call to them. He attributed it to the noble bearing of his female escorts. The last thing he wanted was further attention directed at him. The soldiers had given him a thrice-over thanks to his unusual size and massive sword, likely trying to ascertain whether or not it was worth questioning him. Lirafey had done well deflecting that eventuality.

Now, the priestess was leading them toward some of the rental housing, none of which seemed occupied in any way. He lamented briefly that threat was so ever-present. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed watching the dance of Lirafey and Lura's respective posteriors. Both females were built quite well, and having known them both carnally, he couldn't help his instinctual desires. Despite the fact that Lirafey was likely to betray them in the next forty-eight hours, he knew he'd rise to the occasion should the opportunity to bed her arise again.

"In here," Lirafey said, opening a door to a squat, single-story house. They entered: Lura first, followed by Shandra, then Hammer, and finally Lirafey, who closed the door behind them.

They were greeted by a low-burning fire and an ash-skinned elf with shoulder length silver hair, vivid red eyes. She crossed her legs and grinned, sitting in a high-backed chair with elegant arm-rests.

"Luriia Torviir, Gundor the Hammer—I'll wager you've not heard that name in some time. It is a pleasure to meet you both. Lirafey, you and your battle-captive are free to leave as you please."

"Markus told me I would be paid," Lirafey protested. "Where is he?"

"Awaiting you," the elf said, pointing at the door. A tall man in a dark cloak had opened the door and held a large leather sack in his hand. Lirafey nodded, and gave Lura one final look.

"See you soon," Lirafey said, then kissed the drow passionately, her tongue filling her mouth. She and Shandra left without another word.

"They mean to betray you," Hammer said as soon as she was out the door.

"Oh, I know," the elf said, smirking. "That is their way. Perhaps one of ours will die, but not likely. Chances are, she will tell whomever she wishes, and when they come to investigate they will find nothing of note and Lirafey will be flogged for spreading lies."

Lura smirked. "I had thought as much." Hammer didn't seem to be at ease by that, but he held silent. "Who are you?" Lura asked.

"I am Valshar Larethian," the elf said.

"Larethian?" Lura asked. "As in Corellon?"

"The same. No relation," Valshar said, smirking. "I follow Corellon, and since my drow name is only barely applicable, I assumed his surname."

"You are half-drow," Lura said with a smile.

"And half-moon elf," Valshar responded. She stood, barely five feet tall, her waist about the size of Hammer's thigh. Her every feature was knife-sharp, from her ears to her chin to the breasts under her tunic to the flare of her hipbones, visible between her tunic and her low-rise trousers. "The Order of Apostasy has been anticipating your return."

"Oh?" Lura asked, arching a thin white brow.

"It should come as no surprise to you that some of our number follow Sune. She does not only speak to her Chosen, you know," Valshar said with a grin. "That's a lovely robe."

Lura looked herself over and realized that her robe was still cut as spidersilk, crimson and doing little to hide her feminine charms. The fabric was gauzy and translucent, only dense enough to cover flesh over her sensitive areas. She willed it into a garment more appropriate for her surface life. The cloth thickened into a light silk that was opaque but still hugged her curves. Her whip cinched it around her waist, but the robe exposed all of her cleavage and the upper half of her abdomen.

"Quite lovely," Valshar added. "Come, you and your mate will find that there is much work to be done here before you return to the surface."

"Work?" Hammer asked. "We've come with a specific goal, not to be hired on by a band of misfits."

"Hammer," Lura said, "I believe Sune led us here for a reason. Let us determine that purpose before we move on."

Hammer looked at Lura incredulously. "You would have me wear this skin longer than I must?"

She reached up and lifted the mask off his face, revealing his human form. Valshar smirked as she looked him up and down. "No," she said sadly. "I would see you returned to the surface. This is not your world, I know that."

"I am not leaving you," Hammer said resolutely. "But I do not think it wise for us to press our luck down here. Your world is up there as well. Let us save your sister and leave this dark place."

"In time," Lura said. "Soon enough."

"If it helps," Valshar said, "we would all prefer you without the mask. We know of your battle prowess, Gundor the Hammer—"

"Just Hammer."

"Hammer. It would be a glorious thing to see a mountain of a man such as yourself defeat drow weaponmasters and priestesses alike."

The man smirked a little. "I suppose you're right about that. I'll keep that mask, just in case. But it will feel good walking in my own flesh again."

Valshar grinned. "Come, my new friends. Let me introduce you to the Order."

*****

Lirafey felt particularly good about herself with a heavy pouch of gold in hand. She could think of nothing better to do with a handful of it, right about now, than buying something for her and her consort.

"I like the tassels," Shandra commented, pointing to a particularly devious harness. It was designed to penetrate both orifices at once with thick, rubbery knobs. Straps connected the bottom half to a set of iron rings, which then fastened to an iron collar. The rear of the thing had only a single strap that connected to the harness's anal plug. The straps were designed short, so that no matter which way the wearer twisted or bent, there was no escape from the penetrating knobs.