Har'il'lick Kashink-mar






      "Har'il'lick Torias," commanded the Matron Mother.
      Torias knew better than to disobey, he fell heavily to his knees, his head bowed.  
She commanded him to place his hands on the stone floor in front of him, he did so.  
He could hear her snake headed whip hiss and spit in anticipation and closed down his 
body slowly in preparation for the inevitable beating.  He had refused to service one 
of the house's daughters earlier that same evening and now he was going to pay.
      Crack 
      The many-headed whip tore the flimsy fabric of his shirt.
      Crack
      Angry red welts began to appear on his back, Torias gritted his teeth.
      "Keep count Torias, aloud, if you falter, I'll start again."
      Crack
      "One,"
      Crack
      "Two,"
      The beating continued for many hours, Torias faltered more than once, bring the 
Matron Mother's wroth down on himself even harder.  When she finished there was no skin 
on his back on the back of his legs, his clothes were in rags and there was blood all 
over the floor of the Chapel to Lloth.
      "Let that be a lesson Torias, next time I will give your heart to Lloth," the 
Matron Mother declared.
      "Yes Matron Z'yaltae," Torias forced the subservient words through pain clenched 
teeth, every syllable brought stabbing pain throughout his body.
      "Get off the floor Torias."
      Torias forced himself up, he could feel the stinging, burning pain of air against 
exposed muscles and fought to keep from passing out. He swooned and felt his will 
failing all he wanted was to fall to the floor and give in to the welcoming black 
numbness of unconsciousness, he knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor falling 
face down in his own blood and skin.  
      Torias awoke in the Matron Mother's chamber and stifled a groan, his back was no 
longer paining him, he assumed, incorrectly, that the Matron Mother had healed him.   
Torias watched as the Matron Mother walked over to him, her ceremonial robes, in fact
clothing of any description, discarded, her ebony skin gleaming in the light of faerie 
fire.
      "Tell me Torias, does your back still pain you?"  She smiled a wicked and sly 
expression.
      "No Matron."  Torias spoke the words he knew he had to speak.
      "My daughter is quite apt at the healing arts is she not"
      Torias smothered his surprise and nodded "Yes, a master of her craft."
      "Are you well enough to service me?" 
      No Torias thought bitterly, biting back the many insults he wished to hurl at 
the Matron Mother and shrugged, then hissed in pain.
      The Matron Mother looked at his shoulder but a single glance was enough to tell 
her that he was lying.  She struck him sharply across the face, a bright red welt flared 
to life briefly before fading.
      "Enough," she snapped "You will service me tonight Torias, and when you are done 
here you will go to my eldest daughter's chamber and service her as well."







      The next few hours were sickening for Torias but he somehow managed to choke back 
his revulsion and do what had to be done.
      Later as he lay at the outskirts of the Z'yaltae compound being violently ill 
another Drow approached him.
      "Torias?" Fiaran called softly, his voice oddly musical.
      "What is it Fiaran?  I'm being sick."  Torias turned a wry smile to his lover, 
the one person he could bear to be touched by.
      "What did you do this time?  What did they make you do?"
      Torias choked down his revulsion and told Fiaran everything that had happened, 
Fiaran could not hide the look of horror that marred his handsome features, not only at 
what his lover had been forced to do but also the look of hatred that twisted Torias' 
beautiful face.
      "That's horrid Torias" I can't believe it."
      "That's the Drow way Fiaran," Torias managed to choke down the bile rising in 
his throat enough to answer his lover before he was sick again.
      When Torias had managed to exhaust the contents of his stomach some four hours 
later the light from Narbondel was well and truly gone, Fiaran tried to aid Torias back 
to their dormitorybut in reality he was more of a hindrance to the unwell Drow.
       Once Torias was cleaned up and lying on the pallet of mushroom straw Fiaran slid 
into the bed beside him and kissed the top of Torias' ear.  Torias shivered and smiled, 
turning over to look at his lover's face.  Fiaran was handsome, even by Drow standards, 
with a rich mane of silver white hair and silky smooth ebony dark skin.  Torias smiled 
and kissed him, somewhat awkwardly, it was not so easy to forget the nights ordeals, but 
Fiaran was not for giving in and he kissed and caressed Torias' bruised and beaten body 
gently and soon the two were resting peacefully in each others arms.
      "Sleep now?" Torias laughed softly.
      "Okay," Fiaran conceded and moved to get off the pallet.
      "That doesn't mean you can't stay here Fiaran," Torias reached out a slender hand 
to stop his lover's departure.
     Fiaran only nodded and slid back into the bed beside Torias and wrapping their arms
about each other they both fell easily into sleep.







     It was not long until Fiaran and Torias' peaceful reverie was broken by a female 
voice spitting the curse.
     "Kashink-mar," Matron Z'yaltae spat at seeing the two males lying with each other
Kashink-mar was a Drow insult that translated roughly to 'Lover of Men'.
      Pulling her snake headed whip for her belt the Matron Mother advanced on them at
a slow and deadly pace.  Fiaran and Torias scrambled backwards out of the bed but staying 
close to each other. 
Matron Z'yaltae grabbed Fiaran by his luxurious hair and yanked him away from Torias.
      "Har'il'lick Kashink-mar," She commanded throwing Fiaran to the floor, her snake 
headed whip writhed and hissed in anticipation of the beating it was about to inflict 
on the hapless Drow soldier.  Torias tried to aid his lover but the Matron Mother was 
already chanting and Torias found that he could not move.
      Matron Z'yaltae drew back her arm and snapped the whip across Fiaran's exposed 
back with a sharp crack, Fiaran's warrior reflexes saved him as he rolled out from under 
the blow.  For the next blow he was not so lucky he had backed himself up against the 
wall, this time the whip crack across his face, the fangs of one of the snakes digging 
into his eyeball and dragging it out of it's socket.  Fiaran screamed, so did Torias.  
The whip fell again this time over Fiaran's exposed torso his ebony skin tore spilling 
blood over the unpolished wood floor, this time he didn't scream, Torias did though 
long and loud, screaming in rage and frustration and pain.  The whip still fell over 
and over again, each time Fiaran's tried not to scream some times he succeeded but 
more often than not he screamed, an unearthly noise that reverberated across the 
compound, counter-pointing Torias' screams of rage.  Torias wanted to help him, he 
tried but the Matron Mother's dweomerwas too strong, he couldn't move.  He could only 
watch helplessly as her whip fell again and again over Fiaran's body, the blood sprayed 
across the floor even falling on Torias.  He wanted to lash out, wanted kill; bile rose 
in his throat he wanted to be sick but the dweomer wouldn't allow it.  He couldn't do 
a thing except watch.
      When the Matron Mother finally stopped she stepped back and surveyed her handiwork.  
"A pity, he was a good fighter, but the Spider-Queen demands."
      Torias wanted to spit wanted to yell that Lloth could be damned but the Dweomer 
had him incapacitated.  The Matron Mother turned to face him a wicked smile curling her 
lips.
      "Now Torias, you will service me, here, next to him."
      Torias felt the dweomer release his limbs and he rushed to Fiaran's side wanting 
to take his lover into his arms but Fiaran's breathing was shallow and uneven, there 
was not a trace of skin on his body.  Torias choked back the rage and the tears welling 
in his eyes and turned to Matron Z'yaltae.
     "Heal him," he pleaded.
     "When I am satisfied Torias," she said stripping off her garments and pushing him 
to the floor.
      Torias serviced her and amid her groans and cries of pleasure did not hear his 
lover's final words or his breath still.  When the Matron Mother rose and dressed Torias 
remained on his knees.
      "Please Matron, Heal him," he asked fighting to keep his voice steady.
      "It's too late for Fiaran Torias, he expired while you serviced me."
     Torias' scream was one of pure agony he leapt to his feet and ripped the whip from 
the Matron Mother's belt heedless of its stinging bites and wrestled her to the ground.  
The Matron Mother's expression changed from smug superiority to terror as she realised 
he would kill her.
      "Nau!"  She screamed the Drow word for no as her own whip was wrapped about her 
neck and pulled tight cutting off her air supply.
     She struggled for over half an hour her struggles gradually becoming weaker and 
more feeble as the final breath of air escaped from her lips it was accompanied by a 
soft whisper.
     "Nau?"  
     Torias kicked her head and ran across to his lover's body, gathering Fiaran up 
into his arms he finally gave vent to his emotions.  Cradling his lover's body he 
wept, he wept for all the time they would never have, he wept for the senseless murder.  
The isolation washed over him in undulating waves.  Torias couldn't stand the pain, 
Fiaran had done nothing apart from love, Torias was guilty of the same sin, yet he 
lived.  It was unfair, the first few words that Fiaran had spoken to him came into Torias' 
mind.
     "Who said life in Drow society was fair?  Where is that written?  Life in 
Menzoberranzan is pain, anyone who says otherwise is lying, or part of 
Breagan D'aerthe."
      Slowly he realised there were others in the room.  The Matron Mother's daughter 
and several guards, they dragged him away from his lover's corpse and into her chapel 
of the Spider Goddess where they tied him down to him altar, his legs spread.  The 
eldest daughter fetched an ornamental but very sharp dagger and put its blade in a 
brazier beside the altar and began to chant.  In his grief-stricken and incoherent 
state Torias didn't recognise the chant as a prayer to Lloth for her to accept the 
sacrifice of his testicles.  When the blade of the dagger glowed not only in the 
infrared spectrum but in the normal spectrum of light as well the Priestess raised 
it above his testicles.  Torias screamed as the dagger sliced through the sensitive 
flesh of his genitals the red-hot dagger cauterising the wound as it went.
      The smell of burning flesh filled the chapel as the priestess threw his 
testicles onto the brazier.







      Several days later Torias was blindfolded and lead out of Menzoberranzan, they 
took a twisting turning route often having their lizard mounts walk on the roof of 
the cave system.  When they were miles out from Menzoberranzan Torias was dumped and 
the lizard riders lumbered off.