Hammer and Feather Ch. 41-51

"How can you be an elf? You're a human! Admit it!"

He stepped in firmly. "He's a half-elf and a son of Odos. The clever boy traded his ears with those of his divine cousin so that he might help Lady Rook-"

"And why should I believe..." The woman studied him with a growing nervousness, "you?"

"I am Syvezar. One of Lady Rook's husbands, the-"

"He's the god of purification and rebirth. He and Cyran, the god of mediation and healing, the cousin who lent me his ears, have been healing the captives that were returned." Kwes frowned. "I know it's difficult, but I ask you to-"

"Why would human gods be helping us?"

"Cyran and I have been welcomed by the elves, and we-"

"Welcomed?"

"In the encampment, we were given the place that Rielle the goddess of desire and deception once held." At her baffled look he realized that they hadn't heard. "Many things have happened that you know nothing of. Your people and your gods were betrayed by her and Syreilla the Rook repaid her for it with fire and vengeance with Nimphon's blessing."

"She betrayed us?" the woman sat heavily onto a dwarf's lap and then stuttered an apology. "I-forgive-it-I-"

"I don't mind." The stumpy brown-haired creature smiled and his tone was teasing, "I knew a dwarf who married a half-elf. He always said he couldn't have asked for a better wife."

The woman looked at him aghast for a moment and then broke into laughter before embracing him and moving off of his lap.

Her smile faded after a moment, "The dwarves are kinder than I had thought, and they have a sense of humor. I can't imagine a half-elf marrying one but... these are good people.

"How and why would she have-have betrayed us?"

"She betrayed us all for power." Kwes spoke gently, "I may be a son of Odos but I have a mortal father who is an elf. He named me after her because at my birth they saw I was surrounded by beauty, you asked about my strange name, I took a new one. But what all of this gives me is a tremendous respect for the deserving gods of both sides.

"This war is more than a mortal war. The huntress as Lady Rook calls her, their goddess of war, is trying to take the crown from the King of their gods. She is gathering power to her and Rielle thought she could do the same. She convinced the elven gods to put their stones in one place to pool their power and give more strength to the mortal elves. And when they did she stole them all and took them to the huntress.

"Lady Rook took them back and slew Rielle, sending her to Nimphon for whatever he feels she's earned."

"And your ears... How... Why?"

"The clever boy let me trade ears with my cousin so that I can help Lady Rook with less danger. They would murder a half-elf on sight. With human ears, I can blend in and we can steal everything that the huntress has gathered and put things right again. My sister is a goddess of vengeance but she's also a legendary thief. She may be better than our father."

The woman nodded slowly and glanced at Syvezar as she touched the wraps covering her ears. "Can you... is it possible to heal these?"

"I'm not certain. Cyran and I always work together to heal such terrible damage. Without a god of healing I-"

"What about a goddess?" The dwarf next to her looked thoughtful. "The Fellwives might be willing to help you help them. Lady Rook is making them feel indebted. She sent her dragon and now she's left the elves to help us."

Kwes blinked and then grinned, "I knew you looked familiar! That's why she was grinning that way and offering to teach you how to mix dragon's fire."

"She's a friend of mine but she likes Fellforger better." The dwarf grinned back.

It felt like a barb.

"She left them?" The woman suddenly looked sick.

"She turned the tide of the war for them in a day and we heard the dying screams of the False Rook from the other side of the field." Kwes held out his hand and leaned forward. "Syreilla the Rook won't let them falter."

"She brought the elven god of war to the field before she left it." Syvezar tried to put on a reassuring smile. "She wished him the best luck he could possibly have and wished the huntress the worst."

The dwarf chuckled, "I'll send him some wine, if he doesn't have something to celebrate I'll eat my sword. When she wishes you good luck you're playing with dice loaded in your favor.

"I'll see if Thova will come ride with you, Syvezar. She wants to keep your wife away from her husband as much as you do."

The elf woman looked baffled, "She has two husbands and wants more?"

"No," Syvezar spoke firmly and the dwarf broke into laughter.

"If she hadn't married her dragon she'd have been a Fellwife. She turned his head with that golden hair of hers and he flirts with her. It makes the rest of his wives jealous."

"She doesn't share." He tried not to glower in the face of the wretched dwarf's glee.

"Give him a couple hundred years and let her come around the forges more, he'd persuade her. There would be a piece of him just for her."

"And risk him splitting into pieces like her dragon?" A scowling dwarf woman had come to stand next to Syvezar. "She can stay with the ravens if you all insist she has to. That half-elf had better children than I would have expected but the goddess can keep a little distance."

"A half-elf and a dwarf?" The elf woman smiled faintly, "I still can't imagine it."

"Have you met Oduil Flameborn?" The dwarf next to her patted her arm. "Look at his ears. Even I know better than to tease him, his mother might come back from the dead to take me apart for it. Not even death could stop Syreilla Hammersworn from keeping her word and her children were-"

Vedhethrah's roar made everyone turn to look. Syvezar closed his eyes and felt Syreilla's smugness and the pride his other half was taking in hunting the human scouts for her. He opened his eyes knowing what had happened.

"The scouts came close enough to see her laying her wards and teaching Likras. One tried to murder her. Vedhethrah will devour them. She doesn't want him in the sky again though, she has a plan."

"I'll go have a look." The dwarf clambered down from the wagon and vanished among the dwarves bustling around them.

"We should be moving." The dwarf woman next to him gestured to the wagon. "We can help them as we go."

"Of course." Syvezar offered to help her into the wagon and the dwarf woman smiled faintly, allowing it.

Her hair and beard were a rich, dark shade of brown and the beads in her beard were gold with etchings and small gems on them. For a dwarf, she was almost pretty.

"You were a King once?"

"Vezar Edra was. Vedhethrah still feels like a King, I would prefer to be the healer Vezar was before taking the crown. I make things new and pure."

Thova looked pleasantly surprised. "Let's look at the damage that's been done. Come sit where I can see. What's your name, girl?"

The elves around them smiled and the elf woman took a seat on the floor of the wagon. "My name is Gilhel Ranien and I'm three hundred and twenty, no longer a girl."

The dwarf smiled, "I'm older than you are. To a goddess, you're a child."

Gilhel smiled and inclined her head before unwrapping the cloth covering. Thova drew in a pained breath as she looked at the elf's mutilated ears.

"They're too far gone for me to heal."

"But not for both of us." Syvezar laid his hands on the elf and nodded to the dwarven goddess.

He closed his eyes as she did the same. Pouring power and intent into his hands, he heard the elf gasp and felt her shiver. When he opened them, her ears had been healed. Thova inspected them approvingly.

"You do good work. It takes a lot of power."

"It does. I ask them to plant a seed with a pinch of ash in thanks. How can they thank you? For your help, something should be offered."

"We have our own ways, but if they would be kind to dwarves I would take that as thanks."

"Thank you, Lady Thova." Tearfully, Gilhel took the dwarf's hands and kissed them before turning to smile up at Syvezar. "Thank you, Lord Syvezar. I will plant a seed with a pinch of ash." She looked at Kwes curiously, "Do you have such gifts? You're the son of a god?"

"Not all of a god's children have gifts like my cousins and my sister. I'm just a talented thief." He shrugged and put on an innocent expression that reminded Syvezar strongly of Syreilla.

"You have to grow into it, cousin, and you look so much like Syreilla when you say that, I know to expect more of you." He grinned as the half-elf broke into laughter.

*Forty-three*

"Think of it as pushing open a tent flap, Cyran. Use your will to direct you. It's the same as using your gifts. The ability to open the door is as much a part of you as they are. You'll feel it the same way you do when you reach for your power or use your gifts."

Cyran watched as she opened a door with a wave of her hand. The words rang like truth. A part of him... He summoned his will to return to Grandfather's mountain top palace and lifted his hand. Like a curtain being drawn aside, the door opened. He blinked in surprise, he'd expected it to be more difficult.

Syreilla was smiling approvingly and he returned the expression with gratitude, embracing her before passing through the door.

Olthon flew past him as he turned to see if the door closed itself. To his relief it did. The white bird circled and returned to perch on his shoulder.

The air is thin here.

"Yes. I had forgotten. Only gods come here because mortals find it impossible to breathe." He glanced at the bird with worry as it settled comfortably as if it intended to remain on his shoulder for some time.

I don't need to breathe. Are the dead still mortal?

Cyran smiled faintly, "I never considered the question."

Others are coming. Be honest when they ask you questions but try not to give up too much information about me or Syreilla.

"Cyran?" Eludora came into the courtyard with an incredulous look on her face. "I saw the bird and... How is it still alive?"

"It isn't. This bird was a gift in thanks for the service I-"

Olthon clicked his beak but the answer was interrupted by another voice regardless.

"How did a bird-?"

Silfeya and Zyulla came hurrying to see where the bird had come from, followed by Mabor. A few of the gods' children came trailing behind.

"Who sent you here?" Zyulla came to embrace him and stroke Olthon with a smile.

"I opened the door on my own. Syreilla taught me how." He smiled at the delighted look on her face. "She may have been locked away for twenty years but her mind wasn't idle. She turned the tide of the war in a day-"

"Where is she? Is she safe?" Eludora came closer with a nervous look on her face. "If she finds out-"

"The huntress struck a bargain with Syreilla. They met on the field." He gave Zyulla a wry smile, "After Syreilla slew the False Rook and Rielle."

"Slew?"

Silfeya stepped forward and pushed Eludora out of her way. "She slew them? How?"

"Itia tried to menace her with the knife they claimed could kill me. You don't brandish a weapon at Syreilla unless you want to feel it used against you. I'm not certain how she slew Rielle, I know she had Nimphon's blessing and-"

"It's not possible." Mabor shook his head. "She lied."

"No. Rielle is dead. Not even the huntress disputed it."

"It's true." Isca's voice was like ice water and he turned to face her. "Rielle's priestess gave me one of her sigils, it's hollow and powerless. And the Rook either stripped the power from her stone or was given it as a gift.

"I made a bargain with her, you may all go to the underworld if you wish, Ahevhethrah will be allowed to open a door and keep it so that you may come and go between this house and that one as you please.

"She sent you here with one of her birds, boy?" The goddess narrowed her eyes as she studied his ears.

"This bird was given to me as thanks for my service. I have been welcomed by the elves-"

"Is that why you have points on your ears?"

He felt Olthon shifting on his shoulder and had a feeling he should be hedging his answers. "Are there not more elves who worship me than humans at the moment?"

"What service?" Zyulla touched his ear.

"Syvezar and I have been healing their ears. This bird came from Nimphon." That much was true enough, Syreilla had said so and it had not been a lie though it was not fully the truth.

"Nimphon gave it to you?" Isca narrowed her eyes with a smile. "You're lying."

I was passed to him by Syreilla the Rook. Olthon began to preen. He needs an elf to link him to us, we claim him as ours. The half-dragon belongs to Syreilla but Nimphon will take him as well. She is being pulled into his service. All three claim her, who commands her is a matter of who grips her most firmly. The bonds she shares with her family have always been strongest.

Like Syreilla, the bird spoke in half-truths that left a slightly itchy sensation on his skin.

Isca blinked at the bird and then nodded slowly. "And he was fool enough to accept the gift."

"I was wise enough to accept it." Cyran frowned. "You've come to tell them the news?"

"I felt the door open and thought Syreilla had come. I want to have a word with her. She met with me on the field and then slipped away, bringing Gruithon to take her place. That was rude. I wanted to test myself against her."

"She told the elves she isn't much of a warrior, but she gave her word to help them to take the openings she sees. Syreilla wants you to know that she's coming for you, Isca, and the stones. She wanted me to tell you that she's all fury and dragon's fire."

The huntress broke into laughter and then nodded with a smile, "She wants me to prepare for fury so that when she comes with her wits and precision I'm looking for something else. She's good, I'll give her that, she may be better than Odos, but I'm prepared."

"How did the battle go?"

"The elves held their own. I may send my priests from the field in the future if only to force her damnable mages to leave as well."

"She's lent them to Gruithon for the moment."

Isca snorted. "I will certainly consider removing my priests from the field. He'll be relying on them and he'll use them to better advantage than she did. He's more strategic."

"I think her goal was not to let your soldiers cross to the elven side of the field."

The huntress laughed again and nodded, "I could tell that. She's more of a brawler than a tactician. She only thinks things through when it comes to her thieving. Still, I could have made something out of a girl like that."

"My father said the same thing, but I think my cousin has made something formidable out of herself."

"Does she boast of killing my Itia?"

"No, but she seems proud of killing Rielle. I was there when she slew Itia. She was provoked. My cousin has a temper."

"I told my daughter she was as strong as Syreilla. To my shame, it wasn't true. Even with a carved stone that girl... Tell me the truth, was she given a new stone?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Zyulla?"

"Not to mine either. But she has her grandfather's favor."

"She has the favor of the elven gods and the dwarves as well. Syreilla-"

"All three claim her and it makes her strong. Almost strong enough to face me. The arrangement has its disadvantages, however, ask your grandfather." Isca grinned. "But I have all of you here, your stones and your support. One young goddess can't match my power no matter who else is aiding her."

Cyran let a cool smile spread over his features, "Would you like to place a wager? I would stake all I have and all I am on Syreilla's victory. You can rely on a Rook."

Isca's confident grin faded slightly and then she snorted and shook her head. "She has her father's charisma. That girl inspires her believers. I have to break that belief to destroy her. She's at a disadvantage, it won't be hard."

"She killed a goddess!" Mabor interrupted, pushing him aside and making Olthon take flight. "One older than some of us!"

Zyulla pulled Cyran a few steps away and Eludora followed as the others began to crowd around Isca demanding to know more. The white crow returned to his shoulder.

"You don't know how she killed Rielle?" Eludora studied his face.

"No. She said she severed the goddess of desire and deception's connections to her worshipers, to power, and to life and set her alight before kicking her mortal carcass through the door to Nimphon's shores. How she did it-"

"Does she have a weapon?"

"She-"

Olthon pecked his shoulder and he turned to look at the group of others who were glancing at him. Their gaze didn't feel friendly.

"They truly support her? She slaughters, mutilates, and enslaves children and they support her? All of them?" He looked at Eludora feeling a little ill. "Even you?"

"No-not, I have no choice, little one. We have no choice."

"You do. Unren chose exile rather than support this madness. You could also choose to do the right thing even though it's hard and thankless. Rielle was no goddess of love. Perhaps you aren't either. Love is pure, merciful-"

"I am." Eludora looked wounded leaning against Zyulla. "But if I withdraw my support my temples will be destroyed. She'll put herself as-"

"In the middle of a war? When her soldiers have seen the False Rook fall, when they've seen her take the field herself and fail to win the day?" Cyran eyed her coolly. "Whatever your excuse, you are allowing her to make you into something else, are you not? You are no longer what you were."

"I wonder if Syreilla pointed that out to Rielle before she slew her." Isca sounded smug. "It's true. They are as weak as their children, half-mortal, all of them. They'll need to go to the underworld if they fail to support me."

"Supporting you will see them withered until they end there regardless." Cyran straightened as he turned back to Isca, "You have chosen to destroy them all and they support you in their own destruction."

"Without their stones, they have no choice."

"You stole mine and yet I do not support you. When my cousin takes it back, whatever power it holds will be hers to wield. I will grant it to her."

"You would give that thief open permission?" Silfeya stared incredulously.

"I trust her. She won't take more than what she needs." He smiled faintly, "And if Grandfather trusts her enough to allow her to kill as it pleases her, utterly without restriction, how should I show her less-"

"He-" Mabor rushed forward. "No restriction? And she can kill gods?!"

"Calm yourself!" Isca snapped and Mabor spun pointing at her.

"Calm myself? She's slain two goddesses! Nimphon and Ahevhethrah have given her the power and permission to kill anyone who opposes her including you, and you think we should stand here like lambs waiting for her to slaughter us too? You can make us weak and you have, you can kill our priests, and you may, but Syreilla the Rook can end us.

"You had to threaten us into supporting you and I'm more afraid of her than I am of you. She borrowed my stone once before and didn't misuse it. Let the girl steal it back and I'll lend her what she needs. You no longer have my support."

Isca drew a blade and advanced on him and Cyran heard Ahevhethrah begin to laugh. All eyes turned to the King of the gods as he grinned and advanced on them.

"She was worried I would be sour with her for killing some of you, I think. But new gods rise to replace the old. Rielle's replacement is already rising. Her vision is clear and I will not oppose her. She is made in my image, the child came from the lake and had puzzled out how to create the first door. Seeing it lined in flame filled me with such pride."