Hammer and Feather Ch. 33-40

Stepping inside, it was much larger than it should have been. The wood was smooth and there were carved arches and stairs that seemed to go in pointless or impossible directions. Finwion beckoned again and led them out of another doorway to a thick patch of forest near what sounded like a great deal of water. The roar of it was constant but not deafening.

Belthamdir took hold of his hand and looked up at him curiously. He led her to another large, ancient tree at the edge of a drop. Something was woven in its branches. Syr broke into a grin and clambered up the tree. The large nest being woven into it wasn't quite finished but it would look over the cliff and it had a view of the waterfall in the not terribly far distance. Hopping over to the side she peered down at Finwion and her niece with a delighted smile and he beamed.

She came back down and he mimed making a door.

"Where should I open a door to?"

"This is where you should put your door."

Syr blinked at the girl. "You understood me?"

Finwion looked at her incredulously and started gesturing as Belthamdir started to giggle.

"He loves you but you're a little slow sometimes. He's helping us."

"Think before you work. If I'm slow it's because I'm thinking and I still have a lot to learn. I'd appreciate his help. Why should I open a door here?"

He gestured again.

"Put a door here."

"What's the difference?"

He stared at her, perplexed, and then gestured for her to open a door, from the gesture she gathered it didn't matter to where.

Lifting her hand, the flame-lined door sprang into being and he gasped, waving frantically to put it out. She closed the door and looked at him oddly.

"That's my door."

His finger wagged as if she'd done something wrong.

"You're not doing it right."

"I figured it out, on my own, stuck in a lake. Grandfather was thrilled!" She folded her arms and looked at them both sourly as the elf flopped onto the ground and sighed.

Belthamdir started to giggle again. "He forgot you were a child."

Syr made a face at him and he grinned.

He began gesturing slowly but she didn't catch all of what he meant. When he pointed to Belthamdir the girl nodded and started to explain. "When you make a door you're making temple doors. You need to cut tent flaps that can close themselves like a healing cut."

"How?"

Finwion sighed again and made a few more gestures.

"You figured out the hard ones but you can't figure out the easy ones?"

"My doors are pretty! Grandfather said they were the first doors he ever made too."

He mimed pouring something and it coming painfully slowly out of a jar.

"You're very helpful. This is why I like dwarves. They don't just tease you, they'll teach you something too. Elves just make fun of you. All smoke, no fire." She gave him a sour look and his jaw dropped open.

The finger wagging began in earnest and Belthamdir giggled. "You're part elf!"

"I'm part a lot of things. It's not nice to keep making fun of someone when they ask you how to do something."

The girl's amusement faded, "You don't like elves?"

"I get along with them better than I used to. I don't like being called a child and I don't like being told I'm slow when no one has taught me. If you figure things out on your own it takes longer and no one is breaking down my door with offers of showing me easier ways."

Finwion made a placating gesture with another sigh. Giving Belthamdir a pointed glance, he stood up. The gestures he made were careful and measured, she was to watch and then try to imitate him.

"I can do that."

He made a small circle and polished it. She tilted her head one way and then the other looking with both eyes and seeing the difference. An image of the clearing where Cyran and the others were, came into view.

Bringing her fire to hand she did the same, polishing a small circle and opening it enough to peek through but not step through.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured, no fire.

"Why? When I was in the lake and thinking, it seemed like, the fire was something that stood between me and-"

His hands went up and his gestures became more complicated.

"You don't need it. It's what you're using to reach with, just use your hand."

Syr steepled her fingers as she took a moment, considering it. The flames were hers, they were part of her, but they required some power. The doors required power, perhaps they were similar. Places that opened and closed like the fire came when she willed and went when she tired of it.

Magic was something she'd always needed a bucket for, siphoning from the places she could feel it. Where the power for it came from... There was power in everything, plants, people... That was how the holding ward worked. The siphoning web had held Rielle, drawing power from her own existence... Perhaps the flame and the door both drew power from her existence. That would be why it took more power to allow others to use your door and why it took a little extra power the more of her flames she conjured.

"Did she stop breathing?" Belthamdir looked worried as Syreilla glanced up and gave her a smile.

"I tend to stop when I think very hard. It's a bad habit I've picked up." She rubbed her hands together and then opened them, spreading them apart. Between them was a window like Finwion had opened, but hers was less clear, as if the window were made of spider webs.

He laughed and sat back down with his face in his hands.

"Why does it look so strange?" Belthamdir stepped closer and he grabbed the back of her dress.

"It shouldn't be sticky..." Syr frowned down at her creation before dusting the web window away.

"Why would it be sticky?"

Finwion made a series of gestures and Syr caught enough about webs being dangerous to grin. The elf wagged his finger at her.

"I haven't even tried a door yet! Don't fuss!"

Her niece started to giggle.

"He either teases or he scolds, make him stop being mean to me," Syr huffed and folded her arms.

The girl broke into laughter as Finwion scoffed incredulously.

"You're the mean one! He's nice!"

The elf bent to kiss her on the head with a smile.

"You must get your meanness from my side of the family, then." Syr exhaled noisily and lifted her hand as she had with the flames. A door opened to the doorstep as effortlessly as Hevtos' old doors had.

Finwion came closer to inspect it with an approving nod. He made another series of gestures and she frowned.

"Can you open a door to your other house?"

"Probably, but it would be rude. My other home is a room in someone else's house. The doorstep is close enough."

The elf was starting to gesture encouragement to do it anyway and Syreilla closed the door.

"I love my uncle and I love my grandfather, it's still strange to me that they're one person now but I would rather eat my boot knife than disappoint Uncle. I could open a door, if I had to I would open a door, but I'm not going to do it just to have one."

He sighed and then pinched her cheeks. Belthamdir started to giggle again as Syr swatted his hands away.

The large-eyed elf opened a door of his own and beckoned for her to come through. Syreilla hesitated and at a gesture from Finwion, Belthamdir took her hand and gently pulled her toward it.

The girl looked around in bafflement as they walked through the cavern toward the black lake.

"Where are we?" Her whisper was loud in the silence.

"This is Bone White's place," Syr answered in the same whisper and came to a stop well away from the lake keeping herself between it and the girl. "And that is his black lake. When you die there will be something waiting for you on the other side, if you were a good person it will probably be nice, if you weren't... He's fair. But that lake, don't go in it. The water isn't water. If you go into it, there's no light or sound, no air to breathe. You're stuck in the dark with only your thoughts for company."

The child shuddered and stepped closer, gripping her hand tightly. Finwion started wagging his finger and gesturing at the girl.

"He doesn't want you to make me afraid."

"There are very few things you ever need to be afraid of. You have two fathers who will keep you safe if they can, a loving if unreliable grandfather who can make men wish their fathers had never been born with just a few words, and an aunt who will burn anything that slips through the cracks of their defense, but the things you can't be protected from you need to see as they are. Fear isn't always a bad thing, like malevolence it can give you something valuable. From fear, you can draw wisdom and courage.

"It's wise to stay away from some things and courage is only gained from facing your fear. I'm less concerned with making you afraid than I am with keeping you safe. When I first saw the water I knew without being told I didn't want to touch it. But if I had understood, perhaps I wouldn't have stood in a place where I could have been pushed into it."

"I won't go near it." Bethamdir nodded and relaxed slightly. "The water is why you're afraid to come here?"

"I don't want to be anywhere near it and someone keeps trying to make me as often as he can. I understand why, but I still don't like it and I wish he wouldn't."

Her niece smiled and nodded, "I won't let anyone push you in."

"Thank you. I won't let anyone push you in either."

The sound of the stone boat rubbing against the stone of the shore made her look over and Nimphon was giving her a warm, approving smile.

"Syreilla the Rook, I am always pleased by your visits."

"I'd be a lot happier to visit if you didn't have the lake. Have you ever considered draining it?" She gave him a wide, hopeful smile and he made a sound like laughter in his throat.

Finwion huffed and Belthamdir held out her hand for him. He strutted over and took it, tugging her away from Syr and toward Nimphon. The hair on the back of Syreilla's neck rose and she was moving before she thought about it, putting herself between the girl and the lake.

"Who is this?" The pale elf smiled and came closer.

"Belthamdir Camaenien." She lifted her chin and looked up at him proudly. "Who are you?"

"Nimphon, or as your aunt prefers to call me, Bone White. I have something to give her, though I suspect she'll lend you one of them."

"She likes feathers, I... I need to find her one. I haven't been nice."

"She loves you and, I think, 'nice' is something she doesn't place a great deal of value in."

He glanced at her and Syr shrugged.

"Nice can be a tool, it's not one of my favorites but I have it. Kindness is something else. I do place value in that. She and I are alike in some ways, we may ruffle each other's feathers from time to time but family means something."

"You're less afraid of my lake now?"

"I protect the ones I love. There was nothing between her and the water so I put myself there. That I'm afraid is beside the point."

He blinked and then made an exasperated sound, shooing her over a step and putting himself between both of them and the water.

"Don't do that!" Belthamdir turned and started to scold, "You might fall in again!"

"Better me than you!" Syr watched as the child's brow furrowed.

"That is how she loves, Belthamdir, by protecting. Some love differently." Nimphon smiled faintly and then looked across his lake extending his hand. "I have chosen four to lend you, Syreilla. I have explained to them much of the circumstances above and they will be valuable."

"Elves are fucking cunning, I'm certain they will be." She inclined her head and Finwion broke into laughter.

Belthamdir gave her an annoyed look, "My mother says that kind of language means you're not very bright."

"Underestimate me at your peril, dear one." Syr grinned. "Your Grandfather Odos told me once, 'Let fools leap to their conclusions after a few words, a wise man watches'."

Nimphon turned a vicious smile on her, "Was there more to that?"

"Of course." She returned it and his brow arched. "She's a little young yet to learn how to fool a wise man. I haven't even taught her how to juggle properly."

"I meant, did he call himself wise?"

"Never. It's always better to be underestimated."

He made another sound like laughter and then pointed a long pale finger at Finwion at the same moment as the large-eyed elf bumped her as if he were pushing her toward the lake.

Belthamdir screamed.

Finwion leapt back and made a placating gesture as Syr opened a door beneath his feet dropping him in his clearing. Her heart was pounding and she bent, bracing her hands on her knees.

"What did you do?" The girl looked horrified.

"She sent him home. He's unharmed but unhappy." Nimphon spoke gently.

Syreilla lifted her head, feeling dizzy, "If I can't trust him, we can't be friends. He can keep his nest and I'll put my family somewhere safe."

"He meant it as a jest." The pale elf frowned.

"My trust is easy to lose and hard to get back. One bump... the wrong place at the wrong time and the blades I'm keeping in the air fall, Nimphon. Everything shifted. Did you feel it?"

He nodded grimly. "The balance is that fragile?"

"It's smoke and spiderwebs." She closed her eyes and breathed for a moment and her niece came to embrace her.

"I'll scold him, Aunt Syreilla."

Syvezar and Vedhethrah both reached for her. She gently touched their threads and reassured them she was safe and would return soon. The dragons began to quarrel almost immediately and she could feel fury radiating from Vedhethrah.

She straightened and gave the elf an apologetic look. "I-"

"Wait."

Four birds came to land on the ground in a row. A white crow, an unevenly colored reddish-brown one, and two that were grey and black. They changed into elves before her eyes.

"Four of the cleverest and most cunning elves I have. One you already know?"

Syr inclined her head with a rueful smile, "Olthon Camaenion. That's your grandfather Tirnel's father, dear one."

"You have a child?" Olthon looked at the girl in bafflement.

"No, my brother does, but my other half had three with Kaduil Hardjaw."

A rueful smile crossed his face as he dipped his head. "What is her father's name?"

"Magpie."

"No! Kwes." Belthamdir gave her an annoyed look.

"That's not the name your elf grandfather gave him either. The other father he and I share calls him Magpie."

"Everyone but you calls him Kwes." The girl folded her arms and frowned.

Nimphon made the laughing sound again, "You may explain later. Let me introduce the others. Ahyarion Gwendir, Thandor Amarthelben, Aglareden Camaendir. This is the only place they may resume a form other than a crow."

"Who is the best with tactics? I'm not very good with them and they need someone to advise them."

Aglareden Camaendir stepped forward and bowed. "There is no war I cannot win."

"Good. You've got a challenge waiting. Unless he's fallen, Fainor Culinion is the one you want to go to. May you have better luck than you ever dreamt possible." She gave him a wry smile. "Those who can't fight need to be kept safe-"

Ahyarion Gwendir and Thandor Amarthelben grinned, stepping forward as Nimphon spoke, "They were what you would call elvish mages. They will train any they find with the gift to defend those left and help them choose a place to stay."

"I have some human mages that are obligated to help as well. You're welcome to use them and I give them power when I liberate it. If elvish mages want to make a bargain with me I'll do the same for them."

"A bargain?" Ahyarion looked at her curiously.

"The power I liberate for them, they use on my behalf during this war. Those who are under my protection are safe from them. In exchange, my husband, the god of punishment and pain, allows them a way to speak with dead mages and learn from them. But what I ask of them doesn't end with this war; it carries over to their apprentices and their apprentices' apprentices to the end of time. After the war, I will call on them for one task only, to put their differences aside and bring anyone trying to dry up the magic this way again to a painful end."

Nimphon cleared his throat. "That is not allowed, not for elves."

"For elves, I would keep the terms the same except instead of going to Vedhethrah for knowledge and a way to reach for power, they'll need an elven god to look to."

He frowned and then gave a slight nod, "There was something similar done long ago. Elven mages will come into my service. There will be a place they may go, a secret place, to learn."

"If I may ask a favor..." Syr smiled wryly.

"You would have your nest put there?" His face softened as she inclined her head. "It isn't a welcoming place. It's much like your uncle's doorstep."

"I wouldn't mind living there. If he had a tree."

Nimphon smiled and shook his head. "I will give you a tree and a nest, you may come and go as you please. The place they learn will be beneath your branches."

"Thank you."

"Can you see what was shifted?" He studied her face carefully.

"I can't look directly at any of it, only at the peak of the arch. Otherwise, my hands will be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The angle changed, I can feel it."

"He made things more difficult?"

"Things may not fall the way I want them to. I can't leave my family with him as I'd intended. I need to send Olthon with Cyran for now but I can't trust him to look after them."

"He would do nothing to harm them or you, but she is his daughter. He would be heartbroken if she were sent to me."

"I would rather send them to the mines. I know Clan Hammersworn will look after them."

"I remember how fond you were of the dwarves." Olthon came toward her with a hand out to Belthamdir. "But elves don't belong in their mines. Allow Nimphon to make this decision."

Syreilla frowned, studying him and considering it. "I will allow them to go to someone else he trusts, but," she gave Nimphon a pointed look, "if your choice can't keep them safe we do it my way."

"Agreed." The pale elf smiled. "Navisse will guard them."

Her dragons pulled at her again. "You all know where you need to go? I'll need to meet the mages and give them the feather mark. It makes it easier for me to give them what power I take from the other side."

Ahyarion and Thandor bowed and she felt threads being attached to her from all four of them. Nimphon raised his hand and they slipped back into their feathered forms. The three peculiar crows flew into the dark and vanished and the white crow, Olthon, came to perch on her shoulder.

"Thank you for the lend of them, Nimphon. And for the tree." Syr gave the pale elf a small smile and took Belthamdir's hand before stepping through the door he opened for her.

*Thirty-nine*

Cyran lifted his hands from the elf boy at the same time as Syvezar. The child reached up and touched his ears in awe.

"How?"

"Cyran is the god of mediation and healing, and I-"

"Syvezar is the god of purification and rebirth." He smiled warmly and then laughed at his cousin's annoyed look. "You should let me introduce you. Syreilla is fond of introducing herself but it isn't how things are meant to be done."

"No one can introduce her as well as she can introduce herself." Syv laughed and shook his head. "I'll try to give you the opportunity."

"I called her Lady Smoke..." The boy smiled shyly up at them, "The first time I met her. I misunderstood when she said the dwarves called her the Lady of smoke."