Golden Rook Ch. 16-24

Notes: 1) If you see this version of the story anywhere other than Literotica it isn't supposed to be there. 2) Because of shorter chapters, this is being posted in chunks.

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*Sixteen*

Syreilla stole a kiss just before Vezar slipped through after the family now on Hevtos' doorstep and was smiling to herself as she turned to look at the amused Master Odos. "Now what? Should I start laying down a few wards to protect the wagons?"

Odos snorted, "No. We'll make our way back toward Withia and meet them as they come to us."

"Are we going to be in danger?" A dark-haired woman stepped closer, taking hold of a man's arm.

"It would be wise not to go into Withia, even without them." Odos shook his head. "We'll meet them on the road and keep them away for tonight, but I can't promise your safety beyond that."

The older man who'd convinced Cellindir to go cleared his throat, "If we don't go into Withia and get blessed by Mabor other troupes may-"

With a sigh, Odos held up his hand, "How many of you are needed for that, Master Selles?"

"At least ten."

"Choose ten to come with us now and send the rest to wait in a safer place." Odos pulled her aside as a small argument began among the group. "The longer they take, the closer your uncle's hopefuls will get. Scout ahead, Rook, and find a good place to meet them."

"Keep giving me orders like that and I might ask you for real feathers, old man." Syr laughed as he gave her a sour look and made her way toward the road.

If she had one of the horses from the priests it would make things easier but she could keep up a quick pace when she needed to. Pulling the gem and chain back out and wrapping it around her hand, she kept an eye out for anything that might cause her difficulty. She wasn't certain exactly how far from the city they were and unless things had changed there were always a few thieves and bandits waiting patiently along well-forested stretches of road to greet travelers.

There had been a good reason the priests had taken Virilla out of the forest to an open farmer's track. Perhaps two miles, or a bit more, further down the road and she chanced upon one of those good reasons. The two thin ropes stretched across the road were lit red in her vision and she found the drowsing watchman nearby. This would be a good place to meet riders, it just needed a little extra work.

She began with carefully placed wards past the ropes that faded nearly from the sight of her enhanced vision, any horses or men for that matter who made it through the ropes would find themselves mired in what would be, for a few moments at least, sucking mud. It would harden and leave them trapped however deep they'd been pulled in the blink of an eye once it had run its course as if it had never been mud at all. Some wards of holding along the edges...

"You there! What are you doing?" The thief had woken and taken a step toward her.

"There are some riders coming and I want them to stop here. You've already got ropes up, I'm just laying a few wards down. I don't mind if you take the spoils once they've stopped."

He uncovered a lamp and she shielded her eyes.

"What are you, a mage? You don't look like one."

"I'm Syreilla the Rook. Cover that up, you're ruining my vision as well as your own."

"Maybe I want to ruin your-"

Syr muttered and used the stone to loose a spell that would render the man blind and mute for a few hours. His mouth opened in a silent rictus of a scream.

"I don't enjoy having to repeat myself and I'm not in a good mood tonight. Someone cover the lamp or I'll do worse to everyone within the sound of my voice."

Another man scrambled out of the nearby bushes and covered the lamp. "Who-who are you?"

"Syreilla the Rook, perhaps you've heard of the Golden Rook? It may be only mages-"

"I-I've heard of you." The man had started to tremble. "Who does-does death want collected?" He barely caught his friend as the blind man crumpled to the ground.

"This is personal. I had a quarrel with some priests. More will be coming, if you want to help me you may find it worth the effort. I don't have the time to quibble over price."

"N-no, we'll be," he was already trying to drag his friend into the bushes, "We'll be on our way, Mistress Rook."

"As long as you don't cross me and warn anyone about my work here, his sight and voice will return by morning and I'll try to clean up after myself when I've finished, too. Otherwise, you may all find yourselves blind and mute. Or worse depending on my mood." She gave them the widest, maddest smile she could manage and heard them crashing through the brush with a few others.

The encounter gave her an idea. She didn't know how many she'd be facing... Casting the spell along the ropes, anything that hit them would find itself suddenly blind and mute. Casting wards of holding over the edges of the road in case they decided to go around she moved to where the men had been lying in wait and surveyed her work. It didn't feel like enough.

Syr moved carefully behind the miring wards and began laying the wards that came to mind like second nature, those that would burn and freeze at once along with those that would cause blood to boil and bones to turn to stone, for good measure she tossed a few dead sticks among them with the blindness spell laid on them and decided to put a few in front of the ropes as well. Blind horses being urged forward would panic.

It looked better to her and she settled into the woven seat the drowsing thief had been using. It seemed like moments later that the thunder of hoofbeats approached and, curiously, stopped just before her wards.

"We know you're here, Servant of Evil!" a man called into the dark.

Syreilla let out an exasperated sigh. "That's starting to get tiresome and if it continues I'm going to start doubting my-" She ducked as lightning shattered the tree next to her. "Most of my wards are here to hold you, they don't start getting nasty until the back. If you're going to try to kill me I can change that."

One of the men screamed in rage and she heard a horse start forward as if viciously spurred. Very quickly he and his horse ended up caught in a holding ward on the other side of the road. She heard the sound of weapons being unsheathed and grinned.

"One of us will make it through to carry out the Divinity's will. We will rescue the chosen children from iniquity and prove our worthiness! She does not dare to harm the blessed of Imos!"

Syr opened her mouth to correct them but they charged forward. At a glance, it looked like at least a dozen blundering through. Blind horses going mad and getting roughly half of them stuck in holding wards. Then they hit the ropes, at least one of the men went blind as he tried to cut the rope, and the miring wards managed to catch four. Three made it past, trampling their companions to do so. As the first horse hit the more vicious wards and screamed, the other two horses panicked and tried to turn, one tossed off his rider directly into a nasty ward and fled back the way they'd come, the other bolted directly into one of the few remaining holding wards.

The screaming stopped quickly as they blundered into the sticks but the agony continued. With a grimace, she made her way out and took a sword from an unresisting hand holding it above the now hardened dirt, patting a panicking horse's head as she passed, and began clearing away the worst of the wards. Using the sword, she killed the silently suffering horse that had gone down among the nastier wards quickly.

"Poor thing."

"P-p..."

Syreilla looked up as Master Odos approached with some of the men from the wagons and at least two of the men she'd sent running. One was stuttering and stopped as she looked at him turning pale and shrinking back.

"I did try to warn them, Master Odos. And I'm getting very tired of Uncle's priests shouting at me and trying to kill me. I'm starting to think Uncle's burning desire to protect me may not be entirely genuine."

"Are-are you going to spare them?" One of the men was staring at a writhing priest whose flesh was bubbling and sloughing off.

"No. They're beyond my help. It would be a kindness if you killed them quickly, Rook."

One of the men with him stumbled to the trees and began to vomit.

"I suppose I can, I dispelled the wards they were caught in. These were always fun. Zylius..." She stabbed down into one priest's chest and steam came out as his boiling blood bubbled out and met the air, "He made sure these wards would do the same to anyone trying to spare their friends pain. The wards I learned from him were spectacular, effective, and impressively vicious." Dispatching the other she turned to go back to the men caught half-buried in the ground. "Do you want me to deal with these too, Master Odos?"

"No." With a wave of his hand and a mutter she didn't catch, the earth softened and three of the men lurched and stumbled out and four shaking horses did the same. "There are moments I regret sending you to learn from Zylius. He was a horror."

"I kind of liked him. Until he became a lich."

Odos sighed. "Dispel the rest of the wards, Rook. And don't forget to clean up your sticks."

As she glanced around it seemed a few had gone missing. "You don't want to keep all of them?"

"I only needed a few." He gave her an annoyed smile. "They may help your Uncle remember his manners."

"It's usually only his priests who're rude, Master Odos." She flashed him a grin, "Perhaps they'll make up for it and let us borrow their horses?"

"I suspect they will."

He shooed her to work and she took her time making certain that the wards were all properly cleared. The horses needed some soothing but calmed quickly and, after Odos had spoken quietly to them for a few moments, the priests huddled together as if they were terrified of what she might do to them and caused no trouble.

*Seventeen*

Standing silently in the doorway, Hevtos watched one of his sleeping sons curled around a memory of treasure. His large, scaled head resting against a golden statue of Zyulla.

There were only two but he had allowed them to return to the land of the living again and again until he couldn't bear to see them return to him so wounded. As his sons and the children of two gods, Hevtos did not have to allow them to die as mortals did. Not even Atos could take that from them. But he had given mortals a way to drive them back to their father.

The last time, his youngest son had created a child with a human woman much the way Odos had done with his fledglings, but the woman, his worshipper, had been aware. It had not been expected that the child would look so much like his father. Vezar had been born in Hevtos' last temple to receive the curse and blessing of life unending.

"Divinity?" The shade of a dark-haired woman came to kneel in front of him. "You seldom visit."

"Irotria. Odos sent two of his fledglings to my doorstep. The laughter of living children is something I have not heard in some time." He gave the woman a faint smile, "It made me miss my sons."

"And my son?" The woman looked hopeful.

"Is guarding the fledglings. He is taking them to visit Zyulla."

The dragon stirred slightly at the mention of his mother's name.

"Why must they be guarded?" Irotria tilted her head slightly.

"Imos wishes to steal them from his brother. My sons are not the only ones who covet."

The woman looked baffled and Hevtos shook his head, "The children of Odos are clever and beautiful. The two his brother covets are like sunlight made mortal, his exquisite songbirds. The one your son has claimed as his golden treasure is a... different kind of bird. She has become known as my Golden Rook and she is more feared in the land of the living than your son."

He smiled at the dubious look on her face. "Vezar's name was purged from common memory after his rule, few who aren't elves remember what he did. He performs his duties well but my Golden Rook has her father's flamboyance. They notice her when she serves me and the tale carries."

"Is she beautiful?" Irotria came to her feet as he gestured.

"She is. Her hair is golden and if you didn't know her nature you would think her delicate. But the Rook has my brother's temper and viciousness and Odos' quickness and charm."

"I would like to see her." The dark-haired woman clasped her hands.

"She cannot come here." At her baffled frown, he added quietly, "She's a thief."

His son's clawed hand gripped his bed of gold and his heavy-lidded eyes fluttered.

"Rest, Vezjahehdhethrah, I will allow no one to take from you." Irotria moved to the dragon's side and stroked it soothingly until he settled into a more peaceful slumber again.

"When she has finished her tasks I may have her bring me all that was taken from my sons." Hevtos smiled as he considered it. "She is not content unless she can be what she is."

As he made his way back from the hidden chambers kept for his sons he felt the ripples of another, less pleasant, presence on his doorstep.

*Eighteen*

"Master Dwarf, if I could-" Kwes tried again and the look leveled at him made him stop and clear his throat.

"My little magpie, that circlet goes to Hammersworn's youngest. Leave it." Master Odos smiled faintly. "You'll have to forgive Kwes, Master Grimgrip. Magpies are known for going after things that shine."

"It must be in the blood if he's Hammersworn's brother. The woman asked politely to see the jewels inside the altar box the way her husband and the rest of the clans were permitted to when we came to Delver's Deep. When she was refused," the dwarf snorted, "rudely, by one of my companions, she walked away. If I hadn't been told to go back in and open the box no one would have known she'd removed them to get a good look."

Odos covered his face. "She never mentioned that to me."

"She was told not to. The stones should have killed a thief on the spot, but she was curious, not malicious. I found her in the room of light looking them over like a jeweler. That woman had the gall to be offended that I interrupted her."

"I'm surprised she only looked at them." Kwes smiled as Odos laughed into his hands. "She likes stealing from temples."

"She never stole from dwarves." The old man waved his hand straightening with a smile. "I used to encourage her to steal from temples, my brother's usually." He glanced toward a doorway, "Priests have always irritated her, even Mabor's."

The blood-soaked priest of Imos returned from his surveying of the house. "You were right, there are no wards anywhere in the house. There's no sign of her or the mage."

"A mage would have put up wards." Grimgrip frowned.

"He did. Some of them were even impressive." Master Odos went to look out of the window, "She cleared them all away."

"That takes power." The dwarf studied Odos' back and Kwes tried to understand why it baffled him.

"She's a goddess or something like it, isn't she? The Golden Rook?"

"She is." Odos smiled faintly and turned to glance at the dwarf, "You haven't asked where she took the mage."

"The Golden Rook is a servant of death himself. She took him to the sunless pits." The priest shrugged.

"Only the dead are supposed to be able to go to Hevtos' realm. It requires his permission for the living to pass."

Kwes exhaled, "And they're not on speaking terms."

"That name is not to be spoken!"

"I suggest we leave the city to wait for her." Odos ignored the man, "She'll be in a bad mood, and from the open hole in the floor she's taken her supplies for dragon's fire."

"She wouldn't burn the city!" Kwes and the priest spoke at the same time and the old man sighed.

"She's never liked Withia. As a child... If anyone gives her a sliver of a reason she'll burn the city just to see it gone."

"I have businesses here, Master Odos!" Kwes took a step, gesturing toward the door.

"What of the people here?" The priest shuddered. "There are so many, not only those who live here but those who've come for the festival. It would be murder."

"I would argue that murder requires intent, but, yes." Odos nodded grimly, "People will die."

"Hammersworn would take the people here into consideration," the dwarf spoke firmly.

"Did you ever see her lose her temper, Master Grimgrip?" The mirthless curve of the old man's lips made Kwes feel chilled. "The Rook is worse. You want to stay on the Rook's good side. Hammersworn was a sweet girl in comparison."

"We need to do something, sitting here is pointless." Kwes moved toward the door. "People won't leave if you start shouting that the Golden Rook is going to burn the city to the ground but they may leave for a performance. If we can convince enough players to put something on outside the walls..."

The dwarf took a deep breath once they came out into the street. "That might have been a good idea if there were time. I know that smell. I'll meet you outside the north gate and tell as many on my way out to leave as I can."

Kwes sniffed the air, "There's time, someone's started a fire nearby..." They were burning more than wood.

The priest grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the middle of the street to point to a growing column of black smoke rising from the center of the city.

"Who is she serving?" The priest snapped and turned on Odos, "This is madness!"

"That is revenge for the murder of Syreilla Hammersworn. At the moment she's pouring her rage out and letting the city share her pain." He looked very old for a moment, "Young gods and goddesses... she has yet to learn temperance or be censured by her grandfather."

The priest stared at the smoke.

"Who do you serve, nephew? Or should I ask what? Will you stand by Imos in his mistakes or will you stand for justice and see wrongs righted."

"The divinity does not make mistakes." He tore his eyes from the pillar of smoke but for all the certainty in his voice his eyes were nervous.

"My brother does. He made a grave one when he had his very mortal niece murdered and promised to put the assassins out of Hevtos' reach. For too long he's been lying and telling his worshippers that he will judge them and send them to a reward of his devising or punishment from our uncle. But it's Hevtos who judges and sends mortals to their rewards and punishments.

"The Golden Rook is going to make certain his lies are exposed and she's going to burn his temples... It's what he did to Uncle in his fury. Even my brother can see the circle."

*Nineteen*

With the chain and gem wrapped around her hand and hidden beneath her glove, Syr stood outside of the door Messus had taken her into. Under her breath, she muttered, "You think your wards are something I should be afraid of?"

Drawing power from the stone to boost her dispelling as much as she possibly could, she sent the spell out and felt the wards rippling throughout the house as they failed. The sound of cursing from inside was what she wanted to hear as she entered and collected her bag.

Messus was hurriedly laying more wards as she found the room he was waiting in. She dispelled them again. "That's not very hospitable, Messus."

"Lady Rook..." He backed against the wall.

Syreilla took a step closer, standing near the window.

"You startled me by..."

She noticed the way he glanced at the open window, as if he wanted to go through it. "I startled you? I imagine Riman and Syreilla Hammersworn both felt a great deal more than startled. You're going to tell me who hired you to kill Hammersworn, and I'm going to take Riman's death out of your assassin's hide when you tell me where to find her."

The mage seemed to find some of his confidence again. "You think you know so much but you're in the dark, Lady Rook. You lied about speaking to the dead."

"I didn't speak to Istion, but I didn't lie about speaking to the dead. He was a half-elf and as far as I know, he didn't go to my uncle. I spoke to other mages to learn a few new things. Why don't you enlighten me Messus, I'm already in a bad mood, making me drag it out of you is only going to make it worse."