Hammer and Feather Ch. 22-32

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

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*Twenty-two*

Syreilla couldn't keep from laughing as she soared through the air, her arms extended and her brilliant dragon's fire held as much as possible in the form of a bird around her. The volley of arrows rose to meet her as she descended, trusting her luck that the idea she'd had about landing would work.

She formed a ball of dragon's fire and landed on it, letting it take the force of her impact. It exploded. That wasn't quite what she expected but, she dusted dirt and debris from herself as she walked out of the shallow crater, it worked well enough. She gave the few men who weren't screaming and trying to flee a wide, mirthless smile.

"I am the Golden Rook. You may call me Lady Rook. My husband and cousin are here, meeting with the False Rook. Take me to them."

One of the men offered a trembling bow and led the way. The soldiers parted as she strode through them. In the encampment, a man dressed in a fine tawny robe bearing a black bird with wings extended across the chest, flanked by a few others in less fine brown robes intercepted her.

"You are a liar and a charlatan!" He held up his hands and began to draw on a bauble in the belt at his waist for a spell. The air was so dry of magic she could feel it where she stood.

Syreilla's grim laughter made him hesitate as she pulled the power from it herself and blew across her open hand at him, setting him alight with dragon's fire. He made it only a few steps before the hunger of the flames took him to the ground.

The men with him dropped to their knees.

"I would have expected mages to be able to tell the Golden Rook from a pretender."

"Lady Rook! Forgive us, Lady. We knew this one was a poor imitation of your greatness, but we served her for the power. The magic has gone." The one that spoke looked up to judge her reaction.

"The huntress has dried it up, but I intend to release what I can if possible. I was trained by mages when I was a mortal. I don't hold it against you but I require your service now. I'll liberate what power I can for you; you'll use it on my behalf and those who are under my protection will be safe from you. In exchange, I'll have my husband, the god of punishment and pain, allow you a way to speak with the dead mages and learn from them." She took in the avarice and wariness on their faces. "My behalf won't end with this war and it will carry over to your apprentices and their apprentices to the end of time. After the war, I will call on you for one task only, to put your differences aside and bring anyone trying to dry up the magic this way again to a painful end."

"Done." The one who'd spoken first broke into a vicious smile. "Who trained you, Lady Rook?"

"I trained under several mages as a mortal, Ofeus and Zylius among them, and I've learned from more since. Some of the eldest mages have a grasp of magic that rivals the gods'.

"Come take my hand to seal the deal. Go back on a deal with me and you'll have longer than you ever thought possible to regret it."

Syreilla offered her hand and the mages looked at it as if making the decision all over again. One by one they rose and took her hand. As she grasped them, she sent a blossom of dragon's fire up their arm. They looked startled but then amused as they stepped away.

"What was the purpose of that display, Lady Rook?"

"Look at your arm."

All of them pulled back their sleeves and looked at the feather-like burn up the inside of their forearms on the hand she'd clasped.

"You're marked as mine. Wear what you like, and after the war has ended, go where you like and do what you will, that will never fade. You can warn your apprentices or just let it be a surprise to them on the day they clasp your hand and agree to come into your tutelage."

Two of the mages laughed.

"Take me to the False Rook. I'm going to have a chat with her about how rude it is to use someone else's name and try to usurp their place."

They escorted her to a large opulent tent flanked by tawny banners bearing the profiles of black rooks. Syr blew at them and they burst into brilliant flame but there was power preventing them from truly burning. With a grin, she let her hungry flames move to the poles themselves, sustaining them with the banners' power to keep them covered. The poles would turn to ash before the banners burned completely. She stepped into the tent to find a brunette woman menacing a grinning Syvezar with a knife and Cyran standing close by with a grim expression on his face.

"Sorry I'm late. I gathered a few mages to my service on accident." Syreilla walked in deliberately as if she owned the space. "You're the False Rook? Is this the False Rook?" She glanced at Cyran and received a curt nod. "I expected... more."

"How dare you!" The woman advanced on her and Syr began to laugh mirthlessly, meeting her halfway.

There was fear in the other woman's eyes as she looked into Syreilla's.

"How dare I? You take my name and dare to harm children?" She made her voice thunderous, trying to imitate the draconic resonance of Vedhethrah's voice, as she drew power from the blade being held so close to her. "I am Syreilla the Rook. I am the Golden Rook, goddess of righteous vengeance and protector of gentle souls. You have imitated my sigil and harmed those I protect. I bring to you and yours fire and vengeance. On behalf of those who are mine, BURN."

Grabbing hold of the knife in the horrified young goddess' hand, Syr turned the blade on her, burying it in her gut and releasing all of the power remaining within it in a flare of dragon's fire from the point of it. The scream that came from the woman was unlike any sound Syreilla had ever heard. It resonated in a way that made it feel as if the sound was heard by her ears and every fiber of her being at the same time.

As she pulled the knife back, the charred woman fell to her knees rasping something in the divine language and a door opened beneath her. The False Rook vanished through it.

Immediately, Syr covered the ground with a net of flame. "Try not to step between them. The fire won't burn you and I don't want to have to fetch you back from wherever she just fled to."

"She was begging for her mother to save her and not let her die." Syvezar smiled smugly. "My treasure, in your glory you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

"She kept quite a few objects with power close to her... none feel like a stone." Mouthing the siphoning spell for the focus, Syr drew the power out of all of them at once and melted the emptied blade in her hand with her flames. As they stepped out, there was a ring of soldiers around the tent and her mages were facing them nervously.

Spreading her arms, she decided to try giving them some of the power she'd gathered, laying it on their feather marks as she'd done when she gave power to Ahevhethrah.

As one, the mages turned to look at her in awe.

"I won't tell you what to do with it, when or how to spend it, but don't forget that we have a deal."

"You still have a part to make good on, Lady Rook." The one who'd done more of the talking looked at her with a desirous expression that made Syvezar hiss.

"I don't advise upsetting either of my husbands." She grinned and turned her attention to the soldiers. "Bring me all of your captives and disperse. In exchange, I will allow you all to live the day."

One of them muscled his way to the front. "I take orders from Lady Rook, not from you. Take that elf-"

Syreilla grinned and blew a puff of air at him and he began to burn. The crowd around him began to catch as well, she didn't try to contain it, letting the fire burn wild as its nature desired. None of the soldiers trusted themselves to cross into the net of flames beneath the feet of those with her. When she was certain he was dead, she held up her hand and the flames died, leaving others burned and dying.

Raising her voice as she had before with the False Rook, she spoke over them, "I hate having to repeat myself. This is the last time I make the offer, then the burning starts. I am the Golden Rook, goddess of righteous vengeance and protector of gentle souls. Bring me ALL of your captives and GO HOME. If you do, no further harm will come to you from me TODAY. Cross my path again and I make no promises."

The press of soldiers became a fight as men tried to get away and take her up on her word.

In the fleeing, it didn't seem as if anyone was going to bring captives to her and she gave the mages an annoyed look.

"We can take you to the captives, Lady."

Making their way deeper into the camp they came to an immense cage. Elves, men, women, and children, with mangled ears and terror on their faces looked through the bars. The air around them roiled and twisted with fear like a massive storm. More mages and priests blocked their way and a handful of dead soldiers who had tried to do as she'd asked lay on the ground. She went to them and knelt, touching them. "Grandfather, I don't know these men but they tried to do as I commanded and were killed for it. Take it into consideration when you judge them."

Walking closer, she laughed quietly as her dragon's fire tripped the wards that had been laid on the ground and she drew on the power they released. As the net went under the feet of the priests and mages it began to consume them.

"Wait, Lady Rook! More mages would be an advantage to you!" One of hers shouted, and she paused.

"None of them have knelt and asked to serve."

The mages and one of the priests not yet burning dropped to their knees pleading cacophonously to be allowed to serve.

"Tell them the terms while I free the captives." Syr lifted her hand to dispel the wards she saw on the cage itself and the kneeling priest cast a spell at her, blind and mute. She began to laugh, shaking it off with intention and power. "You know that the things that work on mortals don't often work on gods, yes?"

The priest paled at her vicious grin and shrieked as she allowed her flames to engulf him. The bauble at his side exploded releasing its power and she drew it to herself, using it to dispel the wards as her mages relayed the terms to the others. The elves made no move to leave the cage and she looked to Syvezar, "Explain to them who I am and that we're all leaving now to go to the elven encampment. Their wounds will be tended there."

He began speaking and one man argued, shaking his head before switching to the common language she knew. "You're a half-elf but you don't speak our language. How can we trust you?"

"I'm not just a half-elf, I'm the Golden Rook. Nimphon trusts me. I'm not fond of his black lake but I'm fond of him. I'll leave the door open and allow you to stay or go as you please if you'd prefer but at least let the children come with me.

"I protect gentle souls and I have been asked to bring fire and vengeance on behalf of these children."

A rook atop the cage made reassuring noises.

"The bird says to trust her," a woman whispered.

The male elf said something in their tongue and they slowly came forward, some helping the others. She escorted them to the center of the field where the elven soldiers ran forward to assist the captives and turned to go back. To Cyran and Syvezar she gave a curt nod and gesture of her head for them to go as well.

"Lady Rook?" One of the mages frowned.

"I imagine those priests had a few extra baubles tucked away and I think they could be useful." With a cool smile she offered her hand, "Besides, I haven't sealed the deal with all of you yet. Take my hand and you agree to my terms. The power I liberate for you, you'll use on my behalf during this war. Those who are under my protection will be safe from you. In exchange, I'll have my husband, the god of punishment and pain, allow you a way to speak with dead mages and learn from them. What I ask of you doesn't end with this war. And it will carry over to your apprentices and their apprentices to the end of time. After the war, I will call on you for one task only, to put your differences aside and bring anyone trying to dry up the magic this way again to a painful end."

Only two of the mages took her hand and received the mark. Those who refused the offer tried to walk away and she allowed her flames to consume them as she went back into the human encampment. The mages following her looked impressed.

"Forgive me, Lady Rook, I hadn't expected you to be so..."

"I trained under mages when I was mortal. Never as a full apprentice, you understand. I was a thief and I took my education piecemeal in payment. I've always liked mages. You know where you stand when you deal with them." She grinned, "Usually, it's at the very edge of a long drop."

He laughed. "Most people don't find that comforting."

"Most people can't fly."

Syr followed the faint feeling of magic to tent after tent, stopping outside to drain whatever was inside, not bothering to go in. She laid a portion of it on the two new mages before noticing a lingering rook.

"If you're not busy, do you mind having a look around and pointing out the best places to lay a few nasty surprises down for those who choose to return? They didn't fulfill my terms."

The bird sounded like it was laughing and then took flight. He called to her and she trotted over, careful not to let her small net of flame ignite any tents. She laid some of Zylius' best wards down and the mage that followed her exhaled.

"I'll be your servant for a hundred years if you'll teach me, Lady Rook."

"Teaching shows you the weaknesses in your own knowledge, it's never a waste of time. I've done it once or twice but I like to know who I'm teaching."

"Likras. What mages have you trained, Lady?"

"I haven't. I taught a young god how to draw power for himself and to do a few simple wards like these and I taught a dwarvish priest more than a few things."

"These are simple wards?" He broke into a grin, "How much have you learned?"

The rook called again from another place.

"There's work to be done."

She trotted toward it again. As she laid the wards she heard the sound of men approaching and the roar of a furious dragon.

"Head to the elven encampment, take the others, and be quick. Show them the mark if they question you." Syr grinned at the rook and followed as it took flight again. Another batch of vicious wards went down.

The sound of soft sobbing met her ears as she rounded another tent. Taking out one of her talons she tore it open. A battered and frightened elf woman stared at her, a murky haze like a visible smell, stinking of fear clung to her. The chains on her wrists had rubbed them raw.

To the rook, she barked, "Get the elves, it seems we need to search the tents." Cursing her stupidity under her breath for not having thought of that sooner, she stepped in and dropped to her knees, sheathing her talon and taking out her tools to work the lock.

It took a second longer than it should have for her to realize that the woman's ears hadn't been cut and that she'd dropped her net of flame in her hurry. She lifted her eyes from the lock and looked into Rielle's smug face as the goddess let the deception drop.

*Twenty-three*

As his other half shared the news of the captives returning and Syreilla taking the mages back to the human encampment, Vedhethrah stripped himself of the chain shirt he had been lent and shed the human form as well. She had assured him she was going from one of her dragons to the other. His treasure had been told not to part herself from her dragons, and she had defied him! He roared his fury at the ground below as he lurched into the air. Circling, he saw a handful of men running toward the elven encampment, they were almost certainly the ones Syvezar said his treasure had taken with her but she wasn't with them. Flying low over the tents he began ripping them up and dragging them with him to find her.

"SYREILLA!"

A rook darted past him. Reaching for her threads he felt a fury that matched his own and knew she'd been taken elsewhere. He roared again and circled back to land near the men being questioned by the elves, men who had left his treasure alone!

He changed back to the more human form to speak to them as Cyran approached with the steel garment in his raised hands.

"They left her! You left her!" Vedhethrah pulled it on angrily.

"She commanded it!" One of the mages approached brandishing a burn mark in the shape of a feather on his arm. "I was with her as she laid down wards. Lady Rook looked toward the distance where we expected the soldiers to return from and then she grinned upwards at the sound of a dragon. She commanded me to take the others and go to the elven encampment. There was a rook she was-"

"She found an elf in a tent and tried to help her." One of the elves came forward with a black bird perched on his shoulder. "She wanted us to search the tents to make certain no one was left behind but something didn't seem right. The elf vanished with her."

He met Syvezar's gaze, she was keeping her threads closed but he knew what had happened as if they were open. "The elf whore who deceived us. That is why our treasure has vanished."

"She was pulled through a door." Syvezar was reaching for her threads as he spoke. "All I can feel is her fury."

"Nali can summon her." Cyran frowned and glanced at the elves, "We need Nali."

"Nali is with the priests. She went with Edun-"

"You have none for the elf whore?" Vedhethrah took a step toward him.

"All of our gods-"

He and Syvezar grabbed the man at the same time. "Where?"

"Your goddess of desire has given her support to the huntress in exchange for power." Cyran studied the startled elves around them, "If she has a priest or priestess here, Nali is in danger."

"That can't be..."

Rooks took flight and Vedhethrah released the elf, chasing after them with Syvezar on his heels. At the edge of the encampment, colorful tents stood in a circle. Several elves and a human lay strewn about the center and the rooks circled overhead calling to each other.

*Twenty-three and a half*

Syvezar was afraid that he knew what they would find when they pushed into the purple tent serving as Rielle's temple. He expected to see the dwarf dead and the feather shattered.

Vedhethrah held the same fear but he forged ahead, the desire to bring pain and punishment burning like Syreilla's flames and bleeding over, galvanizing his other half. Syvezar followed in his wake. Instead, they found a frightened-looking elvish priestess holding up her hands in placation.

"Please-"

"You attacked your fellow priests and you beg for mercy?" Vedhethrah's words rumbled with the menace of a dragon's anger and the woman blinked.

"No! The goddess spared me it was-"

"We know what she's done and what you've done." Syvezar scowled, wishing he'd kept more of the dragon part of himself, he didn't even have claws to rend her flesh with. "When the priests have been revived all of the elves will know."

The woman's chin went up, "They cannot be revived and no one will believe some mostly human monstrosity over an elf. The dwarf is gone as it should be-"

The tent flap was shoved aside and Fainor came in with horror and confusion written across his features. "What have you done?!"

The priestess' expression immediately changed to one of innocence and fear, "I have done nothing! We were attacked and-"

"I have heard what you said as have others, Eristien. The mages have told us of Rielle's betrayal, other gods have told us. Why has the goddess done this?"

The priestess turned her face away.