Drachne

Author's Note: This story takes place in the same world, and the same timeframe, as 'Toofy', but that isn't required reading for the story to make sense.

Author's Confession: I'm an arachnophobe. I may not draw as much from the real world with Drachne's physical attributes, because I don't want nightmares.

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It's always raining when the world is turned on its head.

It might just be the humour of the gods, when they decide to change the fate of the world, just to screw with the mortals. Send the rain, and let them know that chaos is coming.

It was raining the night a small temple found an egg on their doorstep, abandoned.

It wasn't entirely unusual.

The temple was a place of many services. They raised the companions, woman of education and influence, who were sold off as slaves to lords and ladies alike.

It was rumoured that the temple also raised some of these official companions not just as the madams of the Empire, but also as political assassins.

Whatever the case, the temple took in orphans of every race and every species.

This particular temple was located on the mountain deep inside the subjugated elven empire of the Golden Mountain. The mountain. There were others, but this was the namesake.

A once beautiful place, with traces of gold and silver buildings, in the heart of a rain forest. Now little more than charred remains, having been the arena for the human emperor, his bodyguard, and the greatest of all dragonkind.

Irrlichdan, the black-scaled salamander.

So when this small temple, already hated by the native elves, found an egg on their doorstep, they made the leap that it was the egg of that great warrior.

Believing it to be the heir of the dragon, they hid it from sight. Kept it warm and safe, for two years before the creature inside cracked open the shell and emerged.

She was named for their confusion, uniting what they'd thought she was, with what she actually was.

Drachne.

---

It had been eighteen years since she'd hatched, and Drachne still didn't feel at home in the temple where she was raised in secret. Not permitted to meet the other girls, and especially not any of the boys.

She had broken the rules a number of times, of course. You couldn't both train someone to seemingly disappear, and also keep them under lock and key.

It was rarely worth it, though.

She knew she was different than everyone else. Anyone who wasn't blind knew she was different.

For starters, elves and humans dominated the city. They shared the same basic shape. Two arms, two legs, a skinny torso, and a head full of infuriating superiority.

The temple had a few exotics, but only a handful. The racism of elves made surviving through childhood more than just a difficult prospect for most.

They had an incubus, Raltin, a timid boy who would accidentally suck the life out of you if you kissed him. Training himself in preparations to become a hermit monk.

There was also Cookie, a golden-eyed neko with long brown hair. The bitchy cat often crying and demanding things, because she thought the whole world should belong to her.

Finia was the last of the exotics. A haughty but tolerable buneko girl whose natural talent for magic all but guaranteed that one of the two empires would apprentice her.

Despite all three having varying tails, and Raltin having horns, they also had the same basic shapes as the rest.

A shape that Drachne didn't have.

Below her armoured back, you'd find her spinners on the end of a large and fat piece of meat that couldn't even pass for a tail. And if you could drag your eyes from that, you'd notice she had three legs.

She used to have four of them, but she'd lost one to a pissed off mage with a penchant for fire spells early on in her career. She'd howled for weeks, but now the tiny stump was painless to the touch.

If you dared to look upwards, you would see her chest covered in black bone, the exoskeleton growing out of her waist, and biting into her breasts.

Either side of her cleavage was two arms. Totalling four. Her wrists might be slender, her fingers delicate, but she'd never seen anyone be okay with the count.

Finally, her face was something she knew nobody could stand to look at. Wasn't her fault she'd been born with eight jet black eyes, arranged neatly into two rows.

In short, Drachne was hideous when compared to anyone else.

Right now, she was lying in her web, high above the bed the priest tried to force her to use, crying as she looked at herself in a mirror and wishing that she wouldn't come back alive from her next mission.

The only physical feature of herself that she actually liked was her hair that she used to try and hide her face. It was as silky as the strands of her web, and a deep black she'd never seen on anyone else.

Her abdomen, hanging uncomfortably above her ass, was currently full to bursting with milk-soaked cookies that she'd stolen from the kitchen.

She could probably live of the contents for a year, the damned thing had got so fat.

She didn't care.

She was sick of the last words of her target always being, "What the fuck are you?"

Not who she was. Not who had hired her to kill them. Not why she was doing what she was, or even any kind of pleading for their life.

Just a racist revulsion of her.

Drachne rolled onto her side and did what she always did when she was feeling completely like crap. She plucked at her web, closing her eyes and trying to find solace in the tides of the music.

The bell-like sounds of her web were discordant, bouncing back and forth, rising slowly. Echoing back on itself, beeping and bleeping. Eerie, and eerily comforting to her.

Her music was interrupted as one of the feelers of the web picked something up.

She rolled lazily from her web, one hand grasping the thread as it emerged from her spinners. Lowering her slowly down and towards the ground as the door to her prison opened, revealing the priest.

He looked around, and then lifted his gaze and sighed, "I thought tore that down, this morning."

She pulled back her top lip, highlighting her three inch fangs, and let out a small and angry snarl, "You did. Bastard."

"You must learn to live as we do, Drachne." He crossed his arms and glared at her, his elven ears pulling back. "I don't care how great your obsession to weave webs is. You need to learn to control it."

Her feet touched down onto the wooden floorboards gently, and she released her thread. "You either have a mission, or came to scold me about my studies. Speak."

"Neither, actually." The priest managed to surprise her, "Well, not entirely. It is a mission, but you won't have to kill a single soul. It's an investigation, for the crown."

Drachne blinked her eyes, not quite closing all of them at the same time as each other. "Lord Orist? I am not trained to study something I cannot kill."

"That's fine. It's not alive." He replied and sighed, "Do you remember your lessons on the royal family?"

She sighed heavily, "Heavily enchanted, and tied to the land. Empress Tresian controls most of that enchantment, since using me to get rid of Lady Astadia, a few months ago. Lady Trician was named Godkiller for trying the same, and failing. Exiled."

"The draug." He prompted her.

Drachne's face darkened, and she hid her glittering eyes beneath her fringe. "The bodies of the elven ancestors are interred in tombs. If the empire is in peril, or the crown is unclaimed, then the bodies have pieces, shards, of souls shoved into them. Become... Undead."

"For an arachne you seem to find that quite gross." Orist pointed out with amusement, and then the mirth died. "The draug are waking up. All across the empire. We've discovered the burrow where we believe it started, and you are being sent to see if you can discover a cause, there."

She felt her twin hearts skip a beat in excitement, "This sounds like it is outside the city. I've never been allowed out before."

"And you won't be allowed out, unescorted." The priest dashed her hopes. "You'll be there to help someone else in the investigation. They are in charge. Clear?"

She shrugged, "As glass. Who will I be refraining from biting, Lord Orist?"

"Lord Elan. He is a member of the empress' court, an expert historian, and an expert in magic." Orist stated calmly, "He is also the only elf in this city, other than myself, who has met an arachne before."

Drachne felt her fangs drip, "He... He's met me, before?"

"Not you, another." Orist gave her a spark of hope, before stealing it away, "He slew the beast on his own, but shouldn't overreact to your existence."

She put her hands behind her back, clasping both sets so that she wouldn't be tempted to throttle the life out of the priest. "You must be very concerned about the draug, to even consider revealing my presence."

"The draug can only be controlled by those of royal blood. They should not be awakening." The priest said firmly, "So, yes, an army of undead at the beck and call of an unknown adversary is greatly concerning."

She clicked her fangs together excitedly, considering the deviousness of someone who might have managed to seize control of a nation destroying army.

She wanted to meet them.

"Lord Elan is waiting for you in the back chapel." Orist stated, "I don't need to reiterate what will happen to you, if your presence is discovered, do I?"

She sneered at him, before ascending back into her web.

She'd made one friend, once, and the bastard had ruined what little happiness she'd had in her life. Decapitated the elf right in front of her.

Drachne had learned she was on her own.

She wanted to be friends with Finia and Raltin... And maybe even Cookie. Yet, to keep them safe, she could do nothing but watch them from a distance.

She was Orist' little weapon, nothing more.

The arachne reviewed her wardrobe, selecting a few of her wrist knives that were in better repair. Slipped on a homemade set of tinted goggles to help her with the midday sun.

She had a shirt that fitted over her four arms she'd made herself. It was uncomfortable and the seams scratched at her, but it was made from her own silk, and was both fire and ice proof. No mage would be taking another limb from her.

Unfortunately, she had nothing similar for her lower half. Her abdomen, pulsing, growing and shrinking, defied any kind of clothing or armour, and it was her most vulnerable spot.

She did have a decent set of hunting boots, that laced up all the way to her knees. Those, she put on. They were nothing particularly special, just heavy leather, but bore scratches from where they'd helped deflect sword blows in the past.

Finally, she spun a little elastic circle of silk and used it to tie her hair back. She didn't like showing her eyes, but she couldn't have her hair getting in the way if she was hunting actively.

Preparations complete, she scampered up the wall and onto the rafters. Regretting eating so much as she jumped across them with her abdomen bouncing behind her.

Drachne paused at the circle of stained glass in the ceiling, touching it gently. She always felt trepidation before she left the chapel, and this was the first time she was leaving in broad daylight.

The glass was hot to the touch, stinging to the sensitive hairs hidden away on her hands.

She took a deep breath, feeling her carapace press into her breasts, before she flipped the glass porthole open and scampered outside and onto the wall of the chapel.

She kicked it shut behind her and sprang down into the garden before anyone noticed the beastwoman crawling out of the temple and called for the guards in fear.

She landed ever so lightly, flexing her legs as she touched down without a sound.

Curious about the man she was supposed to now be meeting, and assisting, she leaned her head against the wall of the smaller building. Closing half her eyes to concentrate on the vibrations inside.

She could hear his breathing, nervous and laboured.

Feel his footsteps as he paced back and forth in a general state of anxiety. Two feet, of course. But from the spread, he was tall for a human. Perhaps an elf.

He had a knife hidden beneath a cloak, and his coin pouch felt like it didn't contain actual coins. His gold seemed to be wrapped in cloth to silence it, and then arrayed as a belt looped around one shoulder.

His cloak was also weighted, probably so he could swing it around into an unsuspecting attacker's head.

A very strange outfit for a lord, even one who was about to undertake a mission. Stranger yet, she couldn't detect anyone else inside the small chapel.

Turning her attention back to the garden, she could see a few people. A couple elven girls sitting in acolyte cloaks beneath an apple tree, laughing and gossiping about how hilarious it was that Ratlin's tail had an erogenous zone.

The boy in question was leaning up against the wall, trying not to listen but his heart betraying how upset he was. Feeling like Drachne always did - the outsider. All alone.

Finally, there was also an elf trying very hard not to breathe at all. It took her a moment to find them, even after she noticed their lungs. Up a tree, blending in against the bark.

They had a tiny blue aura of magic, as they used the skill to try and hide themselves away. Making themselves look like a part of the tree.

Unfortunately, that didn't work against Drachne. Her eyes saw things that nobody else saw. She could see the purple hues in light, all the various coloured auras of magic.

Elvish magic was blue, and incubus magic was red. Cookie's magic had a golden sheen to it, making the girl stand out to Drachne even when she attempted to go invisible.

Drachne smiled to herself and crept quietly backwards into the garden. She made a tiny sheet of silk, weaving it together with a blur of her hands, before tossing it high into the air.

She buried a grunt as she was whisked upwards, floating for a moment before she released the sail sheet and dropped into the elf's tree. She moved down very carefully behind them, holding her breath.

She made an educated guess from the silhouette, and then bit at the elf's neck.

Drachne felt satisfaction as her fangs pierced into them and the glamour of wood vanished and revealed she was right on target. She counted a few moments before she plucked her fangs back.

Her goal was only to incapacitate, not to kill.

She looped some silk around the elf and tied them into their hiding place, so that the now-limp body wouldn't fall and reveal them. Then, she scurried down the tree and into the garden.

She checked around again, but couldn't locate any more hidden bodyguards for the elven lord. No one who might interrupt their meeting if this turned out to be a test or a trap.

So, she headed behind the little chapel, up the wall, and in through the roof.

Drachne crouched on the singular beam, looking down at the anxiously pacing elf. He was cuter than she assumed he would be. His blonde hair was short, scratchy and messy. His blue eyes fierce and desperate.

She gave a little growl, and his head shot upwards, his knife appearing in his right hand. She chuckled softly, "Lord Elan, I take it. I am the servant that you requested."

"Amazing." He said and sheathed his blade, "You truly are an arachne. Your kind always has a talent for stealth, but I am no less impressed."

She felt confusion at his lack of terror in seeing her, and dropped to the ground in front of him. He did adjust his stance, but he was watching her face, not expecting an attack.

"I heard you killed an arachne, once." She prompted.

He gave a small nod, "It was unfortunate, but I had little choice, and neither did he. We found ourselves on opposing sides of a war. But I am afraid, miss, you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I do not know yours."

"How did the temple refer to me?" She shrugged, a couple of her eyes wandering around the building, looking for traps.

Elan smiled charmingly, making her hearts beat faster, "As their dirty little secret. However, I would prefer to refer to you by a name, as is proper. If you feel that I should not know it, I would be happy with any, true to you or not."

"Strange. You speak to me as an equal." She couldn't contain her curiosity anymore. "They named me Drachne. It has no special power. You cannot curse me by it."

He bowed to her, as if offering his head, "Miss Drachne, it is an honour to make your acquaintance."

She found herself leaning backwards, bracing her footing for a fight. He really did seem utterly unperturbed by her appearance. Not even glancing at her blood-stained fangs.

She clicked them together, trying to make him look, "I found your servant. Not dead, just... Sleeping."

He smiled at her, "Oh, the life you must have led. Always on the attack. Always expecting someone to try and take from you. However, I must trust you, if our mission is to succeed. I am no danger to you."

"You would be no danger to me, if you did not." She replied factually.

Elan pulled a handkerchief from the top pocket of his shirt, and gestured, "May I?"

She hesitated, unsure of what he wanted to do. Yet, it did appear that he was not her enemy. This did not appear to be a test, so she would take a risk. She nodded.

The elf reached up to her face with it, and ever so gently wiped off the bottom of each of her fangs. Sending a shudder of excitement through her body.

He flicked the handkerchief before folding it and putting it away into one of the pockets of his cloak. The lord smiled at her, "Well. Our next great task, is to get you unseen from here, to my carriage."

"Tell me where to find it, and then go to it. I will join you inside a moment later." Drachne instructed this confusing elf.

He pointed in a direction, "On the other side of the garden wall. It would also be appreciated if Reet could join us. I find him extremely useful, and am quite surprised you managed to discover him... Though, I suppose you are an arachne."

She would have to find a way to get him to speak about her people. The temple had avoided teaching her about them as much as they could, but she knew that they knew more.

This opportunity wasn't one she was going to let pass.

Elan smiled and bowed to her, "A pleasure, Miss Drachne. I look forward to you rejoining me, soon."

As he walked away, she realised that his anxiety had disappeared the moment that he had met her. She found that to be incredibly... Disturbing.

People screamed and ran when they saw her.

They didn't calm down.

One of her eyes spotted movement, and she turned a couple more from the shadows of the little chapel to see that the elf she'd bitten had managed to not only overcome her venom, but free himself.

He was stumbling around in confusion, attracting attention, but maybe he was as impressive as Lord Elan believed him to be. Clearing her venom out so quickly would have taken some pretty magic.

She clicked her fangs, wondering what to do.

Asking him to join her or his master wasn't really an option. He was attracting attention, and she could not be seen. Yet, she also couldn't leave him to be paranoid and confused in the open, either.

Elan had asked that she make sure he joined them, which made it her duty.

With irritation, she realised that she was going to have to use a decent amount of her silk. She couldn't produce it infinitely, and it did take actual effort to spin.

Especially the light but strong strands that would dissolve in the midday sun.

Drachne scampered outside and into a bush. From there, she shot a gob to cover the man's mouth, before quickly flinging out several more to seize his arms and legs.

She felt a bead of sweat on her forehead as she gently puppeted the man into sheathing his dagger, and stumble drunkenly out into the road. Around the corner, to knock on the door of the carriage she could see there.