Chapter Eight - The Return to Virtue
Title: Chapter Eight - The Return to Virtue
Author: The Amanuensis
Two days after the
Drow script was
delivered, it was
finally translated.
Not by Sky, who
Tanth mistook for a
scholar, but by
Niltsiar. He read the
words aloud:
I am dead, yet I walk. You think I am a heretic. You are wrong. When the time is here.
You will know all. Until then, you will think I am dead.
The words flung fast
and furious. "Dead?
The Betrayed? More
lies!" Of course, the
message was purely
symbolic.
Tanthazarus, without
his companions and
his true love,
considered himself to
be dead. And it all
was in the name of
defeating the Drow.
Yet he had fallen to
them, so how more
symbolic would it be
than to send the
message in their
foreign tongue?
Finally, doubt had
been planted in the
heads of a few.
Tanthazarus still held
the loyalty of a select
few, but the numbers
were growing. In
time, the wounds
would be healed, and,
hopefully, Silvaria
would soon forget of
the plans he laid
against her and the
Dark Elven.
Yet as soon as the
words flowed out of
his mouth, a pigeon
fluttered into the
window of the quiet
cabin. A message
from Sorn Duskryn.
It spake of the ill-fate
that should come unto
Tanthazarus when he
next surfaced.
Silvaria was no fool,
and he knew this, but
she found out much
sooner than he had
hoped.
Any thoughts of his
penetrating the Bregan
D'Aerth and stealing
the war from under
their noses were gone
now, only to be
replaced by the fear
of what would happen
should she lay eyes
upon him again.
He sighed heavily...
He knew the time was
near that he would
have to face his
Brethren and explain
everything. Enough
knew of the plot that
he should be able to
convince the rest.
What he was afraid
of, however, was that
they would question
his secrecy and
deceit. But he knew
he must face them,
tell them all, as he'd
promised.
Suddenly, he felt a
huge weight lifted
from his shoulders.
The name came to
him, as if
remembering from a
dream long ago:
Eilistraee. He
pictured her long,
flowing hair as she
sung to the music of a
beautiful lute. He
sighed in relief.
Finally, the war was
over.
