A Fyre Within

Fyre In The Hole

"That is absolutely dreadful, I'm so sorry you had to witness such a horrible event," Fedrel says, placing a comforting hand on her arm. Fyre's gaze follows his hand; her smile drops briefly, then raises back into its mold as she returns her euphoric eyes back to Fedrel's. "Is Alia your real name then?" he asked.

Fyre's head droops sideways. "Not anymore." She leans in until her face stops an inch from Fedrel's, the sweet fragrance of the Thayan red wine he poured her earlier wafts across his nose. "Today," she says, almost conspiratorially, "my name is Fyre." Her golden eyes flash, and she springs back into her perky upright posture, her right foot restless once more.

Fedrel clears his throat. "Erm, yes." He reaches for his wine glass resting on a mahogany side table, and takes a large gulp. "Well, p-please continue."

Leaning back in her seat, she begins her tale again, this time with the accompaniment of flourishing gestures from her green hands:

I could tell you of each horrific beating, each time I witnessed a death, or of the many mental abuses we received at the hands of the drow, but that would make for a longer book. It's perfectly normal for me, but perhaps remarkable for others, my mind, that is, but I remember everything perfectly.

Our time in the cage lasted two ten-days, and they only let us out for a few hours a day to relieve ourselves and to clean us. We travelled mostly underground through the Underdark. This journey ended at a wide underground river where stalagmites, stalactites, and columns littered the water, making it appear like the mouth of some gigantic monster.

Other dark elves with many more captives spread themselves out in this cavern, the din of their guttural language and the cries of whipped slaves torturing my ears.

They lined us up and inspected us. They poked, they prodded, they pinched, and they measured. Many times, I watched them slaughter someone who refused to cooperate or didn't follow the rules given them.

Then they separated all their captives, it seemed, by size. A bulky drow hefted me up and carried me like one might carry a puppy over to a simple boat, also equipped with a cage. He tossed me in with a bunch of goblins, orcs, kobolds, halflings, and a few gnomes, all children.

My time in the boat lasted less than a day, but actually felt longer. All of my kin and tribe were no longer with me. The goblins and orcs were cruel, and by the end, I sat with the halflings, who appreciated my friendliness.

The underground river opened into an enormous cavern scattered with buildings. The lights from the windows created an ambient glow throughout this city. enormous ethereal skulls dashed through the air like an enormous grotesque mockery of fireflies. As a child, these terrified me. I thought they were ghosts; perhaps they were.

Eventually, they pulled into a small dock, and we were herded through small tunnels and dark quarters. One of these tunnels had thick wooden doors on each side. Every entry also had a narrow window with a barred slit in the center, and I could see occupants inside reaching out, in hopes of food or water.

The drow leading us down this tunnel stopped in front of one of these doors. He produced a tiny iron key hanging on a ring at his belt. The wooden door opened with an ominous creak, and we were shoved past a horde of emaciated children surging forward, their arms outstretched in supplication. I turned just in time to see our captors toss the contents of a bucket onto the beggars in the front.

Stepping farther into the cell, I avoided getting splashed by the greasy substance. The malnourished children dashed after the slop, slurping and consuming the food. Some of them started shoving, and fights broke out.

Retreating, I went as far from the door as I could; fortunately, the cell extended deep into a dark cavern. As I retreated, I noticed some of the children were in such bad condition that they barely moved. The whole place stank of excrement and smelly bodies. I was pretty sure some of them were probably already dead.

Missing my mother, I was crouched there, crying into my knees, when a dark elf, probably not much older than myself, approached. A red-skinned boy followed along behind him. Their gazes did not look friendly. "Great!" the young drow said. "Another stupid green skin." At that, they advanced on me.