Perilous Paths

Homecoming

It was with mixed feelings Demordin walked through the city with slow deliberate steps. He thought of what his homecoming would entail and what could have happened at the family mansion during his absence. He had spent two decades at Beleg Makar, the Academy of War and his teachers enforced a strict discipline which forbade all students to leave the training ground except when in company of the teachers. This effectively prevented the students from getting too involved in the complex politics that governed all dark elven societies. The training was harsh enough as it was, without adding the burden of additional intrigues beyond the normal ones among the students. Only one in five students passed the full training regimen. The policy could of course not completely eliminate all such politics, nor would it have been desirable to do so. But it now presented Demordin with something of a problem. He had no idea what really awaited him when he came home. He had of course considered the subject thoroughly from every conceivable angle but without more information he was forced to just wait and see what would happen.

He walked down the long wide street through the inner core, the Haerh Hog, of Tazardriulen without any apparent care for his surroundings. The streets were relatively unlittered as they were swept clean by squads of goblin slaves on a regular basis. Lined up along the main street were a multitude of shops like jewelers, tailors, leather workers, cobblers and barbers. Most fronts bore artful decorations with silvery runes and patterns in the stone along with gargoyles leering down from alcoves, wide windows with goods tastefully displayed and sometimes even small statues flanking the arched doorways. Outward appearances were very important to dark elves as it signified rank and fine exteriors led to better business for the shops. There were also weaponsmiths, merchants dealing in minor magical items, herbalists and a myriad of other shops along with quite a few taverns. The houses were generally several stories high and topped by pointed roofs and some of them had graceful slender towers as well. Many of the houses had been built by grey dwarves, dwarves who, like the dark elves, had turned away from the surface world to carve out empires deep down in the bowels of the earth. They all lived in the vast Netherworld that was made up of underground caverns connected through a myriad of tunnels; some artificial, some natural and some too old for anyone to even be able to tell the difference. Not all of the houses had been built by grey dwarves; some were far more graceful than the robust dwarven constructions indicating dark elven crafting which surpassed even the dwarven stone-craft when they applied their incredible magical abilities. Another indication of dark elven work was the extremely lifelike demonic heads and figures that adorned those houses. The grey dwarves preferred straight robust lines with geometric patterns, much like their cousins from the surface but with a bit more sinister design. The Haerh Hog consisted of a few thousand buildings where all unaffiliated dark elves lived alongside with representatives from other races; mainly human merchants and mercenaries drawn by the incredible fortunes they could make down here, grey dwarves who traded and offered services as smiths and stone masons but also other inhabitants who were more difficult to identify, partly because of their preference for deep hoods and cowls and partly because they never had walked the surface of this world. There were also some half-orcs and other of the slave races that often served the dark elves, more or less willingly.

He reached the center of the Haerh Hog and the Lethe Maar, a gigantic square where slavers and other temporarily visiting merchants traded goods. It was located on a small rise which gave it a slight overview of the city. The most prestigious and expensive inns and taverns could be found here at the square.

Demordin’s path took him across the square where large obsidian statues of demonic warriors peered down on him as he walked by them. Some rumors claimed that these statues were actually golems under the control of the ruling council and could be activated to slay those the council commanded them to, be it for defense of the city or to break up a crowd displeasing a council member. If he had looked up, he would have been able to see the great pyramid platform over the heads of the throng around him. If was from there the Council of Nine made their announcements, proclaiming the general policies and punishments of Houses that had drawn their wrath by failing in their endeavors. But even if he appeared too deep in thought to pay any attention to those around him, usually an expensive sin because the unwary never lived long in Tazardriulen, it did not mean that no one paid attention to him. There was something about him though, a certain arrogance and air of contemptuousness for those around him, that made the pressing throng melt aside before him. Halfway across he stopped and looked around him, as if he suddenly had come to his senses and tried to make out where he was. Built on heights surrounding the Haerh Hog he could make out dozens of great mansions where the nobles lived. At one of those heights he spotted his own House and a rare smiled creased his countenance.

There was not much light down here. The only light came from glowing pillars scattered around the Haerh Hog which provided the dark elves with more than enough light to see but humans were almost blind in the dark gloom if they had not figured out how to enhance their vision magically. Out among the mansions it was even darker since there were no pillars there though many mansions had traces of luminous materials lining the walls which allowed the dark elves with their extraordinary vision to see unhindered there. It almost never happened that visitors tried to conjure up more light or light anything beyond a lantern since the terrible tales of the punishments for such actions were among the first things visitors heard.

Cocking his head slightly, as if he heard something strange, Demordin paused for a few moments before he turned and headed off in the direction of his home. This section of the Lethe Maar was not as crowded. It held the Beleg Mord, where slaves and captured monsters fought for survival while visitors and dark elves betted on the winners. The Beleg Mord had been a brilliant idea when it was conceived, raising the minor house of Rath Laar from relative obscurity and insignificance in the social ranks to wealth and a prestigious position as the Fifth House. His steps took him past the gladiators’ houses, leaving the Lethe Maar behind him.

***

Orrin had never felt comfortable down here in the Netherworld and especially not while he was within the boundaries of Tazardriulen. There was never enough light for him to see comfortably, the gloomy darkness down in the inner core resembled being outdoors on a cloudy night. It was also impossible to keep a normal sleep pattern since those who ventured down to the Netherworld soon lost track of time. This never bothered the dark elves of course, since the only rest they needed was a few hours of meditation every now and then. But the worst with being here was the constant danger of assassination, a threat that never allowed you to relax. Humans could not stand that kind of tension for long, their nerves wore too thin. But the dark elves seemed to have learnt to live with it, many even thrived with the added spice of the danger. Most humans labeled the dark elves as evil, though the dark elves themselves considered that definition as narrow-minded. They argued that theirs was a society that closely resembled nature where only the strongest survived and thrived. The weak and the dull-witted were weeded out and gave room to those who were better, stronger and smarter. Orrin was not all together convinced that this was a society where he would like to live, but there was an undeniable logic to it. Unfortunately, this way of thinking permeated every aspect of life down here, which made Tazardriulen one of the most dangerous places in the world where someone could get attacked at any time for any number of reasons.

Orrin was far from defenseless however; his heavy stature and the worn hilts of his longswords promised a good match for any who dared to challenge him. He was one of the human traders who had decided that that the rewards outweighed the risks when dealing with dark elves. But it meant that he had to be extremely cautious and never draw their wrath upon him. Dark elves could explode for the slightest perceived provocation and often not even that was needed for a sudden eruption of violence. There was no law down here. Anyone could cut anyone else down if they wanted to. But such behavior could result in swift retribution from the victim’s allies. Humans didn’t have any strong allies down here though. Only dark elves could have any social ranking, all others were treated like vermin or slaves. The dark elves had a word for it in their tongue; Tarr. It was not possible to translate exactly but it could approximately be called social rank and honor. The more Tarr someone had, the higher their standing in the dark elven society. The dark elves had developed subtle and not so subtle insults into an art form. Insulting someone and getting away with it meant an increase of Tarr, Ky’Tarr, and the one insulted suffered de’Tarr, loss of face. This also applied to the different Houses, killing members and business associates of a rival House meant Ky’Tarr if the perpetrators got away with it.

Some of the other human traders had elected to trade with only one of the Houses down here which...