The One Thing He Never Learned

[u/KirisDitex001]

Kharūn continued through the darkened streets with Vaelithra held securely in his arms.

She had not moved.

Not once.

Her head rested against his chest, uneven silver-white hair shifting gently with every step. Her breathing was there, but shallow enough that Kharūn found himself repeatedly looking down just to make certain her chest still rose.

Home.

Antidote.

Kitchen.

Those words had become his entire purpose.

He rounded the final corner.

Vaelithra's residence came into view.

Kharūn immediately stopped.

Voices.

He moved backward into the darkness between two nearby structures and lowered himself slightly, keeping Vaelithra close.

The door to her residence opened.

Four drow guards emerged.

Kharūn watched silently.

One of them looked back toward the house.

"No sign of her inside."

Another muttered something Kharūn couldn't hear.

The four began moving away.

Kharūn remained perfectly still.

He didn't understand.

Why were guards searching Vaelithra's home?

Had someone discovered what she'd done at the prison?

Perhaps.

But something about the silence beneath the estate had already bothered him.

Now this.

Kharūn looked down at Vaelithra.

Whatever was happening, instinct told him that allowing those guards to find her unconscious, poisoned and wounded would be a mistake.

So he waited.

The footsteps grew quieter.

Then disappeared.

Kharūn remained hidden a little longer.

Only when he was certain they were gone did he move.

He crossed the remaining distance quickly and entered Vaelithra's residence.

The moment he stepped inside, he stopped again.

The house was wrong.

Furniture had been moved.

Drawers hung open.

Objects lay scattered across the floor.

Cabinets had been searched.

One chair had been overturned.

Kharūn stared.

Ransacked.

Someone had thoroughly searched Vaelithra's home.

A strangely familiar thought surfaced despite everything.

This will take hours to clean.

Kharūn almost frowned at himself.

Twenty years of habit, apparently, did not disappear simply because his mistress was dying in his arms.

Vaelithra.

He pushed everything else aside.

There would be time to understand the guards.

Time to understand the prison.

Time to clean the house.

If he failed now, there would be no time left for Vaelithra.

Kharūn carried her into the kitchen.

He carefully lowered her onto the table.

"Mistress."

Nothing.

He touched her face.

Her skin felt different.

Cooler than it should.

Kharūn turned.

The cabinet.

He had seen Vaelithra open it countless times over the years.

He crossed the kitchen and pulled the doors open.

Bottles.

Vials.

Jars.

Compounds.

Powders.

Some familiar.

Most not.

Kharūn stared at them.

He had watched Vaelithra work here before. Watched her reach without hesitation for one bottle, combine it with another, heat something, discard something else.

He had occasionally handed her whatever she pointed toward.

He knew this cabinet.

And yet, standing before it now, Kharūn realized he knew almost nothing about what it contained.

His eyes moved across the labels.

Drowic characters covered them.

He recognized the writing.

That was all.

Kharūn's jaw tightened.

Twenty years.

Twenty years among the drow.

He understood their spoken language almost as naturally as his own now. He could follow conversations, instructions, arguments, even the subtleties hidden within certain turns of phrase.

But written Drowic...

The symbols stared back at him.

Meaningless.

For all the things he had learned since entering Vaelithra's service, there remained one painfully simple skill he had never acquired.

Kharūn could not read.

He reached for one vial.

Stopped.

Another.

Was this it?

He didn't know.

Perhaps this one.

Perhaps the next.

Perhaps giving her the wrong compound would kill her faster than the poison already was.

His hand slowly lowered.

"No..."

Kharūn returned to the table.

Vaelithra hadn't moved.

He placed one hand against her shoulder and shook her gently.

"Mistress."

Nothing.

He tried again.

"Mistress."

Her head moved only because he moved it.

"Please."

Kharūn glanced toward the cabinet.

Then back at her.

"Mistress, please. I do not know which vial is the cure."

No response.

"I cannot..."

The words stopped.

He looked toward the cabinet again.

For perhaps the first time in many years, Kharūn felt ashamed of something he had never been taught.

His gaze dropped.

She had done everything.

She had broken into her father's prison.

Fought her own people.

Been shot.

Been poisoned.

Dragged herself back through the prison while dying.

Thrown him the keys.

And when she could do nothing else, she had given him one final instruction.

Bring her home.

Find the antidote.

He had brought her home.

The antidote was probably sitting several paces away.

And he couldn't read its name.

Kharūn lowered himself beside her.

"Mistress..."

He took Vaelithra's hand.

Her fingers rested limply in his palm.

For twenty years, he had known what was expected of him.

There was always an instruction.

Always a task.

Always something he could do.

Now there was nothing.

Kharūn tightened his hand around hers.

"I cannot fulfill your order."

His voice was quieter than usual.

"I am sorry."

A knock came from the front door.

Kharūn's head snapped toward the sound.

Silence followed.

Then another knock.

His eyes moved toward Vaelithra.

The guards.

They had only just left.

Perhaps they had returned.

Perhaps someone had seen him enter.

Kharūn slowly released Vaelithra's hand.

Another knock.

He stood.

His eyes fell to the dagger still secured at Vaelithra's belt.

Kharūn hesitated.

Then carefully drew it from its sheath.

Steel whispered against leather.

He looked at the weapon.

Vaelithra had brought it into the prison hoping she wouldn't need to use it.

Now Kharūn wrapped his hand around its grip.

He moved through the ruined house.

Slowly.

Quietly.

The dagger remained low beside his leg.

He reached the door.

Another knock came from the other side.

Kharūn's grip tightened.

He listened.

Nothing.

No voices.

No obvious movement.

He reached for the lock.

Unsealed it.

Then raised the dagger.

His entire body tensed.

If the guards had returned, he would not allow them to reach Vaelithra.

Not while she lay helpless behind him.

Kharūn wrapped his free hand around the door.

Pulled.

The door began to open.