Zariel loved her village. She loved the song of the birds as the sun broke over distant mountain peaks, and the the sound of the stream as it rushed through its rocky streambed downhill to the valley. She loved listening to the history stories Othtanderinwe, a village elder, told the young elves while their parents and older siblings worked or foraged in the forests. But the part of the day Zariel liked best was when her father returned to the village at duskdark with the other men. She would climb up into the branches of a tree just inside the gates and call down to him as he approached, giving him just enough time to drop his gear before leaping into his strong and waiting arms.

Talembar loved his only child and spoiled her shamelessly, much to her mother's chagrin. "Talembar," she would chide, "I will n'er make her into a lady with the way ye spoil her so." Then she would shake her head and chuckle. "Ye will have only thyself to blame when ye can nae marry her off." "Nonsense!" Talembar would exclaim with a twinkle in his eyes. "My biggest concern will be finding a mate worthy of the finest girl child in the lands."

Zariel knew that despite Heracondil's protests, her mother took great pride in the helpfullness and unselfishness of her daughter. For with all Talembar's doting, Zariel remained sensitive to others' needs and developed a keen and probing mind. She questioned anyone she could about the village, about the elders, history, herb lore, Sylvanus, and magical arts. She devoured the scrolls in her father's library and even some of Othtanderinwe's personal scrolls. There were those in the village who grumbled that the child was allowed too much freedom, but Talembar would not squelch the fire in her soul that burned as brightly as her auburn hair.

The years passed happily, with Zariel growing in knowlege and beauty, but maintaining a youthful innocence and naievety. By the time she was old enough to begin foraging with the older children, Zariel had already begun learning rudementary magic under the tutelage of Othtanderinwe. Zariel would head out at dawn with the other women and children of the village to search for roots, herbs, and berries, returning to the village for lunch and to spend the afternoons with Othtanderinwe. Although he could not deny her voracious appetite for knowlege, he paced the lessons very slowly, knowing that magic in the hands of one unprepared to see all of its implications, was a very dangerous tool. Zariel respected the wise elf's judgement and did not push him to move into spell-casting, content to learn what he would teach her.

She soon fell into the routine of the village, and life progressed at a lazy and leisurely crawl. The outside world left the elves alone, and they were content to leave the world alone. In all ways, Zariel's life was unremarkable, but very happy, but that was all to change one day in the not too distant future.

* 5 years later *

The sun painted the sky a magnificent gold as it rose over the mountains. A cool breeze whipped Zariel's flaming locks about her slight frame as she made her way from the village with her party of women and youth on their way to the glades. A twig basket rested lightly on the 13-year-old's arm, and a cloak helped ward off the wind's chill from her shoulders. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day today, but then, most days were perfect in the high elven village.

The larger group of elves fanned out into several smaller groups, each traveling to a different remote area of the forest. The groups were lively, exchanging chatter and laughter as they set about their work. Zariel chose a spot at the edge of a large clearing, where the others in her group were working, to search for valuable roots to be used in healing poltices. As with everything, the young elf immersed herself in her work, blocking out the noisy chatter of the nearby group, and focusing on her present task. She moved off just a little ways into the forest, thinking that the cool shade and dampness the forest canopy provided might yield a larger harvest of roots. And although she was careful to keep the clearing in her sight, she was quite isolated from the view of the other elves.

A sudden movement from somewhere behind her caught Zariel by surprise. She knew that there were supposed to be no other groups in that particular area of the forest. Whirling about, Zariel was confronted with a group of four mercenaries, charging right at her. "Drow!" she thought, her heart quickening. With great deftness, the girl grabbed a small dagger from her boots. She knew she looked rediculous staring off four trained Drow assasains with only a dagger, but she didn't have long to contemplate the situation. The two men on the ends spread out to begin circling her like an animal's prey. Zariel screamed shrilly, dropping her basket and turning to run. But she was no match for the Drow invaders. They quickly cornered the young elf and restrained her.

***

Zariel woke to complete darkness and a throbbing ache in her temple. The last thing she remembered was the glint of a sword hilt in the sunlight, just before it connected with her head. She reached a hand up to her head and was startled to find herself manacled. Inspection of her feet revealed that her ankles had been shackled as well. Zariel glanced about the darkness, trying to learn what she could about this place, but even her natural infrared ability seemed little help in this place. Zariel sobbed quietly to herself, trembling in the pile of hay on which she sat, waiting - waiting for whoever it was that brought her here and whatever it was they wanted from her.

Clanging keys woke Zariel from her nightmare. "naaaaay!" she screamed, shaking violently. Krahl, the Drow slaver, lughed at the frightened girl and proceded to unlock her cell. Zariel cried, trying to work her way farther into the corner. "Please, m'Lord," she begged, "please nay more." Zariel watched his boots as the large Drow aproached, stopping just in front of her. Krhal noted her submissive posture with some satisfaction, thinking that the months spent training her would finally see some return on his investment. He had been right to take so much time with this one. She had grown into a truy beautiful adolescent, her pale skin even paler than usual with her fright.

"Get up, girl," he snarled. Zariel struggled awkwardly to her shackled feet, trembling and crying quietly, afraid of what new lesson in obedience he was going to teach her today. She cowered as he took a step closer. "Please, m'Lord. please d'nae hurt me." A burly arm shot out to encircle her wrists, dragging her toward the center of the cell. Zariel tried to move quickly as possible, knowing she would pay in blood for any perceived disobedience. Immediately, Zariel knelt on the cold stone floor, eyes fixed on the crack just in front of her, not daring to look at Krahl.

"Your lessons here are finished," he stated coldly. "Today a Master will pay me handsomely for the fine product I have made you." Zariel's breath caught in her throat. Would she be taken to another prison? Would He beat her more severely than Krahl? What if no one bought her? Would Krahl kill her? "Come," he commanded sternly. Tears burned her eyes as she rose silently and followed the required two paces behind the slaver as he led her out to a large square filled with crowds of merchants inspecting the latest offerings. "here," he stopped abruptly in front of a wooden structure. "Get up there," he motioned to the four steps leading to the platform. Zariel fought the rising panic in her soul. "I could run," she thought briefly before noticing the guards around the peremeter of the square. "Nay," she thought. "I canna outrun them all. Mayhaps Master willna be so guarded and I can escape Him. Aye. 'tis my only choice," she thought miserably.

Zariel shivered as Krahl locked her hands behind her back and slipped a rope around her neck, tying it to an overhead beam and forcing Zariel to stand high on her toes. She had long since lost count of the number of people who had inspected her teeth and limbs before passing to the next slave when He came. A few words were exchanged in Drow, and Krahl grinned broadly. Zariel shuddered, closing her eyes trying to shut out the fearsome images running through her mind. "Show the gentleman what lovely eyes you have, girl," his voice taunted. Her eyes flew open as a hand grabbed her chin forcing her to look upward into blazing red eyes. She tried to shake her head, but the man's grip held her firmly. "This one will do," the stranger's voice said. "Excellent choice, m'Lord," the slaver drooled. "She'll give you many years of service," he leered. "Very little tolerance for pain," he added thoughtfully. "Makes her easy to control." Krahl was very efficient in detaching the trembling girl from the wooden frame and handing the keys to her manacles to the wizard, who in turn produced a fat purse for the Drow.

With a sharp tug on her leash, Zariel walked out of the square, weeping and shaking, to an uncertain fate at the hands of a man she'd never met before, and would soon grow to wish she had never met at all.