Golden Rook Ch. 61-67

When Atos turned his displeased gaze to Cyran the flames flickered out. "Hers burn like mine."

"I'm sorry that she damaged your home and stole from you, Grandfather. When she comes to know you, she will feel remorse. At your temple, I spoke to a priest and when I spoke of my cousin he understood how she is immediately. She can be as soft and gentle as the rays of the spring sun and as relentless and harsh as-"

His grandfather lifted his hand, "-as harsh as the sun in the desert."

"Yes. When she softens toward you-"

Atos waved his hand and smiled faintly for a moment, "I will have to soften toward her first." His eyes closed and he shuddered. The faint smile turned back into a scowl.

"I'll take young Cyran, if you'll allow me to, Father."

"Go."

As Atos turned away, Odos grabbed him, pulling Cyran from the domed tower to an overgrown garden in what looked like a badly neglected temple.

"That could have gone better but it could have gone far worse. My little rook will come here if she was successful, I'm sure of it. I'm not able to see her when she's holding a stone or with Uncle or I'd look in on her myself. That shudder may very well have been from my uncle's hand touching their stone."

"Their stone?"

"It belongs to both of them, they shared it, day and night, life and death. We call them brothers but they began as one god and they have one stone."

"Grandmother did nothing wrong." Cyran blinked at him. "If they were the same-"

"They had already separated and she chose to be with my father, she knew them as brothers. Father is considered the King of the gods because he was the first, Hevtos was the second. Then came the eldest two of the elven gods, the clever boy, and Bone White, and then the three dwarven gods."

"How..." The thought of gods coming from somewhere and not always having been there made his mind boggle. "How did the gods come to be?"

"Your grandfather would enjoy teaching you, but if it takes him too long to cool his temper, I wrote all of the stories and explanations he's given and I have them in my library. I can take you to my home and teach you how to read it all for yourself. I need to teach both you and my daughter how to-"

Vezar Edra stepped into the temple with a grim expression and Odos looked stunned. Cyran thought he saw a hint of fear as he nearly pounced on the man.

"Syreilla, did she survive?"

*Sixty-five*

Syreilla had managed to climb carefully up to the wooden beams and she sat on them wiggling some feeling back into her fingers. The wood above her was angled like a roof and she hoped that's what it was. She hoped it was old, rain-soaked, and half-rotten. If he didn't intend to leave her here for days she might be running out of time until that asshole grandfather of hers showed back up.

Finding a promising seam in the boards, she lay back to brace herself and use her legs to kick and push until it gave. Every thump and each time the boards creaked she was afraid Atos would be shouting from below or yanking her down. The fear lent her strength.

The boards finally creaked and cracked pushing outward. Syr was sitting up and wriggling through the jagged opening in an instant. She was on a high roof but if she went down the outside of the tower she could reach another wall and it looked like that might get her to a window.

Taking a breath, she took an extra moment to survey. There was too much that could go wrong, she needed to get that stone and get out of this place. Finwion's insistence on coming and going a short distance from places made much more sense now. Until she got the stone far enough from this place to open a door she was exposed and vulnerable. Think before you work, Rook.

No paths lit in front of her, nor was there any fog. He'd probably done something to the gem. She would have if she'd been in his position.

Where to start... The large room had been round and had several doors. Many of the structures here were round with other round rooms attached. Syreilla chose the largest as the place to begin. It had the right number of branches from the large center round room and one was a tower that almost looked like a glassed-in lighthouse at the top. That was promising. If that were where it was kept... she studied the layout from her vantage as best she could and mentally mapped a route down and to the nearest wall. She couldn't see what was on the other side but it barely mattered as long as she could run and get some distance from this place.

Stealing from the King of the gods... If she lived through this and if anyone ever carried the tale, she wouldn't have to put up with the old man smirking and saying he was the better thief! Syr felt herself grinning as she began her climb down. The outside wasn't nearly as smooth as the inside had been and she was able to move faster. There didn't seem to be priests or guards roaming but she kept herself from view of the windows as much as possible, no sense in being careless.

The first real challenge came at the glassed-in tower. Up close it didn't seem like glass. There was no metal or wooden frame; it was more like a cut crystal dome in place over the stonework.

She was certain, however, that what she'd come for was inside. The hum of power could be felt through the wall. Clinging to the side of the tower as the sunlight beating down heated her back and the stone under her hands unpleasantly, she remembered the sarg in the Nameless. Mouthing the siphoning spell she chose a section of stone below the dome and drew carefully from the power she felt within, heating the stone until the air shimmered and she felt as if she were far too close to a fire, then cooling it. It cracked as frost covered the stone. The second time it shattered.

Under her breath, she muttered, "Should have had dwarves do your stonework."

Syreilla slipped in through the hole and dropped down. Seeing the melted gold decorations along the wall made her feel smug but she quashed the urge to revel in her handiwork and focused on the task at hand. The sizable stone was on a white marble perch in a shaft of pure, focused light from the dome above. It would probably burn if she reached her hands in to grasp it. Taking a decorative golden sun emblem from a nearby wall she wrapped it in a silk cloth that had been left draped over a statue of a golden youth and used it to knock the stone from its perch.

The silk was burning and the gold melting but the clear, double-fist-sized spire of stone was unharmed and cool when she tentatively tried to touch it. Tucking it securely down her front she went out the way she'd come by climbing one of the statues. She made it to the wall exactly as she'd planned and looked over at what she hadn't been able to see before, the terrifying drop. There wasn't a tree or a near ledge in sight and the foot of whatever mountain they must be on was obscured by mist.

"ROOK!" Atos' enraged voice echoed over the wall and she started to laugh.

Stepping up and looking down, it was jump or find out if he could build a cage she couldn't get out of, she was certain. Syr pushed off from the wall with all her strength, diving and hoping she would get far enough away to open the door before she hit the ground.

It felt for a moment as if she were flying and then she came through the mist and the ground came into view. Luck was with her and she was moving out, away from the stone face beneath her as if the wind was pushing off of the rock and taking her with it. In that moment, she had time to think. If she opened the door too soon she'd just go right back where she'd started from and the scrub-covered dirt and stone at the base of the mountain was closing quickly. She muttered a plea to Hevtos that he might be on the doorstep, ready to help her, and waited until the last possible instant to fling open the door. Syreilla hit the dirt and stone of Hevtos' doorstep instead of the mountainside and felt bones break.

The air had been knocked out of her so completely that she couldn't even scream. Black and white stars were exploding in her vision and then suddenly a familiar face was in front of her. Hevtos had his hand on her head and one on the spire of stone that felt half-buried in her chest. She sucked in a painful gasp of air.

"Breathe, my Golden Rook." He'd begun to smile. "My dear one, did you try to fly from his walls?"

"I did fly, Uncle, I just didn't land well." Syreilla breathed a laugh as his smile widened.

"How did you survive as a mortal?"

"Luck. A great deal of it." She gingerly sat up, reaching in to pull the stone out for him. "He thought he was clever, but the wall was the hardest part of it."

Hevtos laughed as he took the stone and then helped her to her feet. Every bone in her body ached in the places she'd felt them break.

"A few day's rest will see you whole again, my-"

"Uncle," Syr tilted her head and looked up at him feeling an unaccustomed nervousness, "Will you call me by name?"

"Syreilla the Rook, you wish to hear your name?"

It felt like warm water and she nodded, "I need to hear it, I'm not sure why."

He tilted her face up and looked down into her eyes for a long moment and the same warmth as she'd felt the last time meeting his gold-flecked gaze washed over her before Hevtos kissed her forehead. "You are loved, Syreilla. Come inside and rest, you have done well and made me proud."

For a moment she wrapped her arms around him and just breathed as he stroked her head. "Thank you, Uncle."

The thought of walking back inside, however, brought all the thoughts she'd been shoving down and blocking out of her mind, of Vezar and what it would mean to return here, bubbling up and she hesitated at the entrance.

"I have something for you, dear one. Trust me, and enter."

Taking a deep breath, she followed. To her surprise and relief, he walked her to a chamber other than Vezar's. The door bore a carving of a rook and the inside looked like the top of a tower with open balconies. The floor and walls were of black stone but the cloth draped from ceiling to floor beside the open balconies was sheer and white. The bed was round and the sides, nearly all around it except a narrow gap, rose like a peculiar woven nest of gold-toned wood that she could peek through, and over if she stood on the bed.

"Uncle?"

"A chamber of your own that may ease your feelings of being 'locked in a hole', Syreilla." He was smiling faintly. "It is unfinished, I will allow you to change it as you please." Hevtos touched the stone she had forgotten she was wearing around her neck, "And I will give you a stone of your own. May I take this one?"

She removed it without hesitating. "Of course. This is beautiful, Uncle. I don't like a lot of clutter. A garden on a balcony might be nice though."

"You're a thief..." His warm, gold-flecked eyes sparkled. "You don't keep your treasures?"

"I'm a thief for the challenge, Uncle. There were only a few things we liked enough to keep. We preferred to take money for our work and spend it on mead, tools, or mischief. If we had too much money we buried it to keep for later or took it home to our family."

He touched the plain black wall and looked pleased, "I may have more challenges for you. My sons would enjoy having their treasures returned."

After he left her in the chamber, Syreilla went outside onto a balcony. It looked like a clear day but as nice as it was, the sky was too empty. Glancing up above the doors to the roof of the tower she imagined that instead of the smooth shingles it was covered with moss and short stubby trees that, at this height, would serve well enough for nests. The roots could cling to the walls inside.

Once the trees were the way she wanted them, she began adding nests, intending to add rooks, and perhaps a few songbirds, or at least the images of them so that the skies wouldn't be so empty.

A cough from behind her made her turn in surprise to see one of the spectral servants that roamed. "The divinity asks why you chose to build nests? If you wish birds in your chamber he must bring them to you."

"The sky seemed too empty."

"Ah."

The air felt like water rippling and a wind blew through the chamber. A terrible sound between a wail and a roar shook the air and then stopped.

"Your skies are no longer empty." The servant bowed and departed.

Syr went back out on her balcony curiously to see a dragon, his hide in iridescent shades of blue, some of which seemed dark enough to be black, and far larger than Vezar circling her tower with curiosity. She started to laugh and leaned on the black balustrade to watch.

*Sixty-six*

Syreilla's chamber was mostly bare when finished but Vezar had reassured the divinity that she would be pleased. He knew that she preferred simple and plain things to the elaborate gilded bowers some gods favored. But the one piece of furniture in the chamber was decadent, a large round bed with gold-toned wood wrapped around it. It resembled a nest and would partially conceal the occupants. He knew better than to block her view entirely. She had never allowed the drapes to be pulled around the bed in his chamber. It made her feel nervous and trapped.

There were no doors on her balconies, only gauzy drapes that would allow the light in but obscure a view if she wished. And all three of the balconies were a few steps down as if her bower were on a pedestal. Vezar believed it would delight her but Hevtos had seemed uncertain. He wouldn't know if he was right until she had returned to see it.

Pacing in his chamber he tried to push thoughts of his golden treasure being stolen away by elves out of his mind. Syreilla loathed them. That would not change. It could not change.

A spectral servant knocked on the door of his chamber and opened it. "The divinity summons you."

He rushed to the chamber Hevtos waited in, eager for word. The jewels were arrayed in front of him and the god held one in his hand, a larger gem than Vezar had yet seen, a clear crystal spire, with a pleased look on his face.

"My Golden Rook has returned with my stone. She stole it from my brother. I did not expect her to disappoint me but had not expected her to succeed."

Without thinking, he glanced at the door. His Syreilla was here, she would be in her chamber. His treasure was so close...

"The chamber delighted her, though, she is placing trees on top of her roof and she may create a garden on a balcony. She dislikes clutter and said she preferred to bring what riches she didn't spend on her tools and mischief to her family. I may send her to find the treasures stolen from your father and uncle."

"Yes..." He looked at the door again. "When can I go to her? If her chamber pleases-"

Hevtos held up his hand. "She needs to rest and heal. Let her settle into her chamber."

"Heal?" Vezar took a step toward him.

"She leapt from my brother's walls with my stone. If the two halves had joined more completely she would have died like a mortal on my doorstep. I healed her, but she must rest. In a few days, she will be fully restored. Worse than the wounds, her heart aches. Her father did not attempt to defend her from her grandfather, he abandoned her to my brother's anger. She needs her family to love and protect her. My Golden Rook will not be disturbed for now. I fear she would see it as an attack."

The divinity smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder as he stood grappling with what he'd been told. "I would send you to visit Zyulla. Tell her that soon she will be free. When Syreilla is ready I will allow you to speak to her."

He felt as if he were in a nightmare as he made his way toward the threshold. If his Syreilla needed to be consoled he should be permitted to go to her. Why would he not be permitted? Once his treasure looked, she would see it had all been a terrible misunderstanding. She would return and he could give her the things she had wanted and he had been too foolish to offer.

Perhaps... Perhaps sending him to Zyulla was meant to help him. Their grandmother might soften his treasure's heart. He picked up his pace and opened the door to the neglected temple, stepping through with the words to plead for her aid on the tip of his tongue.

Odos stood in the temple with another man, and he latched onto Vezar immediately. "Syreilla, did she survive?"

"Yes, but-"

"My mad rook!" Odos began to grin, releasing him. "She leapt from Father's walls! How did she keep from hitting the ground?"

"She didn't. She struck on the doorstep." Vezar shook his head. "The divinity said that if she had been better joined to her mortal half she would have died a mortal's death. He healed her and she is recovering." He swallowed as the amusement faded from the god's face. "There are other wounds that were worse, he said. You left her to defend herself?"

"Father commanded me to leave. He was in a foul mood. I had no choice." Glancing at the other man, he gestured between the two of them, "Get to know your cousin."

Odos vanished through his door and the man bowed with a rueful smile. "We've met though it was on less than friendly terms. I didn't know we were... related, King Undying."

Looking at the man more closely, he realized where they had met. "You're a White Hand?"

"Cyran is my name. I think I am no longer one of my father's Hands. Though, it is his wish, not mine."

Vezar returned the smile and bow. "You may call me Vezar, Cyran. I will not hold our first meeting against you. The divinity brought you to visit our grandmother?"

"Yes, Grandfather was in a foul mood after Syreilla stole his stone, we excused ourselves carefully. Uncle Odos believed that if all had gone well, she would come to speak to Grandmother."

"I was sent to speak with her. Though I hope and suspect I was also sent for her advice on how to approach my golden treasure-"

"That insufferable wretch! How dare he keep my daughter from me!" The air swirled as if a storm blew in as Odos returned. "How dare he!?"

"Uncle?" Cyran was wincing and rubbing at his ears. "That language makes my ears feel... unpleasant."

The god waved a hand at him, holding a familiar-looking stone on a chain, but kept his furious gaze on Vezar, "Explain to me why."

"I am not allowed to speak with her either. I..." He swallowed. "She believes I was seduced by Rie-"

Odos cut him off with a gesture. "Explain to me what happened, without using her name. Syreilla made the elven gods very angry."

"I had prayed to her to keep my treasure from leaving me, to make her love me, after you-"

The older man covered his eyes and sighed.

"I had torn the one rich robe I owned, one that Syreilla had stolen for me, in my anguish. After her return, I was permitted to go find cloth for another and I wished to find a gift for my treasure. The goddess found me in the city I went to. She wore a face much like my Syreilla's if her mother had not been human, perfect, delicate... and she treated me like a King. She plied me with the finest cloth, beautiful elvish women were making garments for me and-and then she took me to her bower.

"I was naked from the clothing fittings and lying in her bed. I did refuse her, but we spoke in elvish. I didn't know my treasure was there, I-she didn't make a sound. Syreilla doesn't speak elvish. All she saw was her dragon in another woman's bed." He lifted his hands pleadingly, "She severed our bonds, all of the threads that connect us. It shouldn't have been possible. Not even death severs them so completely."

"She must have used the stone to do it." Odos rubbed his face. "A goddess of love and desire has that power and my thieving rook can draw from any source as long as she can feel it."

"The divinity I serve said she would feel as if she were being attacked if he allowed me to speak to her. He would have her rest and settle into her new chamber."