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July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. More notes are at the end of the story.
“A ring of disguise. I know you have one.”
“Thought you might be coming here, spider-whelp.” The human woman said. “Your kind never gets far on their own.”
“They are not my kind.”
The human grinned, baring a broken tooth. “I’ve heard differently.”
Shoved against the wall, knife to his throat. “Let’s see what you’re hiding under here.” Calloused hands tore the hat off his head. Moonlight white hair spilled down to his chin.
“That’s what I thought.” The point of the high elf’s blade trailed across flesh, to the spider insignia that stained the drow’s flesh. The high elf elicited a hiss. “You’ve been marked.”
“I know you’re good,” the human continued. “You’ve killed plenty of my guys. But plenty of the other side’s guys, too. Keep going like that, you’ll be dead before the month is out.”
There was an understanding between the drow and whoever hired him. He would kill no women, and his loyalty after the job was done was malleable. Most thought he was worth the price anyway.
“I have money,” he told the human.
“I know. You’ve gotten plenty of it from me. I don’t want your money,” she replied.
The drow scoffed. “All anyone wants in this city is money.”
“The ring has a price, but it’s not measured in gold.” She fished it from her pocket, a copper band with a tiny glass mirror where a stone would be.
The drow’s red eyes gleamed. “What is it then?”
“You work for me. Exclusively.”
A mass of bodies under the earth, chanting and calling out to their goddess. They were divided, the men and the women, praising their true queen.
Silver webs shone against the dark, and Lolth came to them. Her many eyes swept over the mass of her worshippers. She picked from the women first, Her newest clerics.
Then, the men. Praying, but not daring to hope that the Queen of Darkness would deign to bless them.
She chose him.
He would not raise a hand to a woman, not even to this one, who both deserved it and had what he most wished for in the world.
But the price was too high.
“I work for no one but myself.” He took a step back.
“That’s what I thought you might say.”
She drew her sword.
The burst of dark energy had slain the high elf before he could draw the drow’s blood. He had slain many others in the same way.
With each spell, he could only hope that Lolth did not feel him drawing on Her power. Let her forget about him, and the gift she had given him. She had many, many others to do her bidding. Let him disappear into the crowd again.
He could feel that borrowed power tingling at his fingertips now. He would not use it.
The drow fled.
FFM #1 Challenge! Write a story with a nonlinear narrative.
I was really stuck on this one at first. Then I remembered I play DnD, and I have a character for an upcoming campaign that needs a backstory. The character in question is a male drow warlock, who came to Waterdeep from the Underdark. He’s really hoping that Lolth will just forget about him and let him figure out how to be a person.
Overlooked Books 