Hammer and Feather Ch. 41-51

"Is that why he had difficulty being a god to both?" Syreilla's annoyance faded to curiosity. "I thought it might have been-"

"There are disadvantages to being worshipped by more than one race, just as there are advantages. You have gained strength by being embraced by all three, but priests of all three will draw power from you, and should you ever wane to the point of becoming mortal once more you would be pulled apart. All lay claim to you."

Syvezar put his arms around his treasure and held her tightly. "That is not permissible."

"Atos was concerned about that?" She frowned, and he felt her deliberately ignoring the more relevant matter.

"Atos found it difficult to be less than a King among gods when he stood among us. I suspect Rielle wished to use him to take my place but he lacked the elvish belief and she lacked the support from the others to offer him."

"My treasure-"

"Beloved, I will not and cannot pull away from any of them. If you wish to-"

"If you were pulled apart I would demand to be split once more as well. I would rest in tatters if those pieces could be with yours."

She caressed his arms. "Then it's a matter to worry over another day. I gave my word that I would always return to you and to Vedhethrah. If death couldn't stop Syreilla Hammersworn from keeping her word it won't stop me."

Syvezar closed his eyes and held her for a moment, reassuring himself by running his thoughts over her threads and feeling her love and resolve. A peculiar fluttering at the edge of his perception made him lift his head.

"It's time."

Isca was waiting across the field as Syvezar stepped through the door with Syreilla.

"I thought you would miss the return of the captives, Syreilla." The goddess of war's smug voice was carried by magic and Syvezar wished again he'd kept more of the dragon half if only for the claws.

Syreilla, however, stood waiting for what she knew would come. He could feel it. This was something she had seen. As the battered and broken-looking men, women, and children stumbled forth from the carts, she leaned to speak to Fainor who had a peculiarly blotchy reddish-brown crow with him. "The moment she breaks her word and moves to harm them, one of you has to call for me to intervene before I can. The elven gods have their rules and they made it clear that if I wish to help you I must begin to abide by them."

"I'll do it now, Lady Rook. I call on you, Syreilla the Rook, if they raise hand or weapon to harm our returning brothers and sisters, our children, spare the elves and burn the rest. We will feed your birds and celebrate for a month of every year what you have done for us with gifts for all of the children."

"Don't forget the troublemakers and the ones that no one claims. I love them best."

The elves were halfway across the field and some of the elven soldiers were breaking ranks to go to their aid. Syvezar saw Isca raise her hand as if giving a command. Bows rose and arrows were loosed. The elves on the line cried out and he heard his treasure's name called in desperation.

Syreilla stepped through a door to the center of the field and covered them with an enormous fiery bird, huddling over the elves protectively, wings of brilliant flame turned the arrows to ash. One child, however, had been at the edge of the wing and took an arrow in his arm.

"You broke your word, Isca. You discard your daughter so lightly? I shouldn't be surprised, you've just discarded the lives of these men." The words resonated in the air and her flaming bird rose from its protective huddle over the elves and spread its wings in a display that even from this side looked menacing. "Nimphon, seal the ears of the elves, if you would be so kind. Do it quickly."

"Cover your ears!" Syvezar hissed.

All those around him dropped, clapping their hands to their heads. The escaping captives, on seeing the sight, covered their own ears or the ears of the children as they fled toward the line.

Syreilla began moving toward the human lines and the bird moved with her but no sound reached them until a rumble like thunder began. She gestured and the bird of flame rose into the air before diving back down among the tents and the oppressive silence shattered with the sound of screams as the human line broke and fled in every direction.

Elves on the line came back to their feet and met the fractured, terror-driven advance. Those men were dispatched quickly. It was barely a fight, their fear of the Golden Rook was so great they couldn't think to use their weapons properly.

He looked back to the field and Isca had vanished as had Syreilla. Vedhethrah would scold them both again. He reached for her and felt her resolve. She was having the False Rook summoned. Syvezar allowed himself a cold smile.

"Her lesson has not yet ended."

"My Lord?" Fainor asked quietly.

"Syreilla has gone to pass her judgment on the huntress' daughter." His smile widened as the elf grinned viciously. "She will learn why you do not cross the Golden Rook."

"May the lesson be bitter. Will you continue healing the captives, there will be more among those released who are in desperate need of it."

"Cyran is not here to aid me," he spoke gently on seeing the rueful look on the elf's face, "but if we are both asked and Ninnien is willing to help, perhaps she can act as his priestess and stand in his place."

"Why are they insisting that you be asked?"

"We are young gods who have not yet found the balance between giving enough and giving too much. I believe the rules are there to aid us in finding it."

"Or they're jealous." Emlinor snorted. "They're not so different from us in some ways. New gods have come and they're afraid our affection and worship will be swayed with their miracles."

"Perhaps." He let genuine amusement break over his face, "One does not preclude the other."

Fainor reached out and gripped his shoulder with a warm smile. "You are always welcome, and we ask you and Lord Cyran to perform your miracles. We are grateful, Lord Syvezar. A small forest has already been planted and it will grow to be a large one I have no doubt. And more kindnesses to perform are being sought.

"We've created a standard for Lady Rook and hung it above her mages' tents, if you tell us what would please you, we'll make them for you and for Lord Cyran as well to hang on your tent in the circle."

Laughing softly, Syvezar inclined his head to the elf. "I will go find Ninnien and we will get to work. I will think on my standard and relay the question to Cyran."

As an afterthought, he inquired, "Where is Edun?"

"With the other priests."

"I will speak with him as well."

If Syreilla needed to slip away to perform her tasks he could at least ask their grandfather to watch over her. She would have a dragon near her and perhaps it would be enough to keep Vedhethrah from being too angry. Syvezar let his other half know where she had gone and his plan to ask for their grandfather's assistance and felt the dragon's fury begin to bubble.

*Fifty*

"No one can make things like she does. Chains to hold a god? The fittings the huntress keeps the stones in? Ezphine even worked on the designs for the puzzle temple." Byrus found a seat in the garden with a frown.

"Ezphine is a goddess?" Cyran frowned. "Is she young? Why have I never heard of her?"

"She was, or would have been." Eludora shook her head. "She's younger than your father but older than the rest of the young gods. Ezphine went into the huntress' service to make and design weapons and help with the puzzle temple."

"Whose daughter is she?"

"Some of us arose out of need. Men began making steel, I suspect they learned or stole the craft from the dwarves and she-"

"She's a goddess of steel?"

"Ezphine never got the chance to fully become something. She went into the huntress' service. Whatever the child is or has become she is in her shadow."

"She doesn't want to be," Zyulla spoke sadly. "There was a time she prayed to me for respite and deliverance. I could do nothing for her. Speak to your father, she may have pleaded to him for justice or vengeance."

"I will ask him." Cyran frowned as a realization dawned, "If she's held captive and the huntress didn't release her to come here or go to the underworld... then we are not bound, Grandmother. We are free to leave."

"Be careful, Cyran." Eludora gave him a pointed look, "I wouldn't use the word free until the huntress has been defeated."

Methar cleared his throat. "Perhaps while we're waiting to see if this Ezphine joins us you can teach us how to open the doors?"

"We can open them to the doorstep." Cyran glanced to Ahevhethrah for permission.

"It is simpler at the beginning to choose places you've been." The King smiled at him warmly. "You know my doorstep, they do not. If they open a door they do not need to pass through it. They can look and see that they have succeeded."

"I would like to watch." Eludora settled onto one of the stone benches. "I never thought it could be taught."

"Syreilla said it's very much like using our gifts. The same way you reach for your talents you reach for the door. It's a part of you. Imagine pushing open a tent flap, use your will to direct you." He lifted his hand and the door opened to the doorstep as he intended.

"I don't understand." Byrus frowned. "What does that mean?"

Cyran thought for a moment. "She focuses on the way things feel. It feels very much like when I focus my will and push it forward to use magic or to use my gifts. She said that the door is a part of us, the same as our gifts. It is an intention pushed forward."

Methar's brow furrowed and as he lifted his hand the air shimmered and then the door opened to what looked like a temple. "She's right." He lowered his hand and the door closed. "That's... that's so simple."

"I still don't understand." Byrus lifted his hand and scowled before shaking his head, "How? Explain to me how you did it!"

"Perhaps..." Aelia began and then lifting her hand Eludora's temple came into view and the goddess laughed in delight. "You're thinking too much, Byrus. Feel it instead."

"I feel like I'm going mad, none of you are making any sense!"

Cyran thought for a moment. "You are the god of barns-"

"Barn raising and home building." He snapped the correction.

"You like things to be solid and to be constructed piece by piece. Something you can plan, something built of stone or wood?"

The god relaxed somewhat. "Yes."

"A tent flap makes sense to us but not to you. Reach for your power and set your will to building a door. Imagine the frame as two pieces top and bottom but the side pieces are together, you must pull them apart and make the frame. As the frame opens..."

Byrus closed his hand and then opened it and a door opened in front of him to a dim barn, the scent of the hay and livestock wafted out.

"Well done, Byrus." Ahevhethrah sounded impressed. "You teach well, Cyran. Your pupil has made a solid door."

When Byrus lowered his hand the door didn't fade and he frowned. "Too solid."

"That is why Syreilla suggested tent flaps. She also began with solid doors lined in dragon's fire." The King laughed softly. "She closed hers with a thought just as she opened them, extinguishing the flames."

"So I should be able to close it the way I opened it?" Byrus lifted his chin and open hand, then made a fist. The door closed. "I think I understand now."

"The doors that she showed Cyran how to make are less difficult for most of us." Eludora looked at the young god with amusement. "Why am I not surprised that both you and she learned to do it the hard way first?"

Byrus broke into a smile. "It just makes more sense to me."

"What is going on here?!" Silfeya stormed in with a scowl. "Doors are opening, we were told..." She eyed the younger gods. "Did you bring Syreilla?"

"No, Mother, Cyran taught us how to open the doors!" Byrus beamed. "I can open my own doors!"

"Isca is going to feel that and come back to scold you all."

"How can they learn if they aren't permitted to practice?" Cyran frowned at the goddess. "No one crossed from one place to another. And it's been mentioned that Ezphine has not been freed to join us-"

"Ezphine is none of your concern." Silfeya snapped. "She's a tool, not a goddess. Content yourself with going to the underworld and back."

Methar smiled coolly. "I'll go see what Brinna is doing. She might like to learn to open the doors as well."

"You leave her be, Methar." Silfeya gave him a dirty look, "I don't need grandchildren from you. What would they even be? A minor god of drunken courage and the goddess of baking and brewing? Would you have my daughter bear the, even more minor than his father, god of bastards conceived in a drunken stupor?"

"How would teaching her to open her own doors result in grandchildren?" Cyran frowned, furrowing his brow and the others looked at him as if startled until Eludora started to laugh.

"You're still as innocent as you always were, Cyran, and so young."

Methar gave him a suggestive look, "I can teach you a few things in exchange for this lesson. My father's city is known for beautiful women with negotiable affections. Starting with a mortal woman might be better for you."

He felt his face flushing and the others grinned or laughed. Ahevhethrah rose and put a hand on his shoulder. "My grandchildren find their way in time, but his innocence has been taken advantage of before."

"Agreed." Eludora winced. "I feel partly responsible for that. He's such a sweet boy that I wanted to help him find a wife."

"Mother..." Aelia gave the goddess of love a peeved look. "You meddle too much. I still remember you trying to find a husband for me and it was wretched."

Eludora shrugged delicately and Cyran intervened, "I don't blame you, Eludora. I had wanted and still want a wife but I think the matter isn't as pressing as it once felt."

The goddess smiled warmly. "I'll help you when you're ready."

"I thank you."

"What will you do now that you've started teaching them things that will get us all punished? Are you planning to fetch Syreilla?" Silfeya snapped.

"No. I was considering visiting my father."

"I will open the door here and let it stand. This is Syreilla's chamber in my house. As strong as she is, she will be stronger here. I don't think I need to fear the door being misused. My Golden Rook serves me and will take revenge on any who do."

"How can she have any reserves of power in this chamber?" Silfeya looked amused. "Everyone can come and go as they please."

"My cousin enjoys guests. She leaves the door to her chamber unlocked. If you abuse her hospitality she is more than capable of addressing the matter."

Ahevhethrah laughed and gave him a wide grin, "True. I have always been the one who limited her visitors. She is a sweet and welcoming child until you give her a reason not to be. Though, her husbands now require her to share their chamber as punishment for her absence. To visit with her you must now pass through Vedhethrah's audience chamber."

With a gesture, he created a flame-lined door and let it stand.

"That may further limit her guests." Cyran shook his head. "Syvezar is charming and reasonable but his other half is..."

"His other half is a dragon who complements his wife's fiery temper." The King laughed again. "Syvezar complements her gentle side. Vezar Edra was well-suited to her."

Zyulla rose and put her arm in Ahevhethrah's. "I would like to visit my sons as well. The changes you've allowed them to make are beautiful."

Smiling, Cyran followed them through to the doorstep, the white crow fluttering to take its perch on his shoulder. They turned to go to the deeper chambers but he went to the audience chamber to see Imos.

As he entered, he smiled to see his father on a white seat next to the black throne.

"Cyran? What progress has your cousin made?"

"Syreilla has been busy, Father. I'm happy to tell you about it all but I wanted to ask you about Ezphine."

*Fifty-one*

"I have discarded nothing! When I crush you and take my place as ruler of the gods I will have no need to bargain for my daughter's peace!"

With a mad grin as Isca began her response, Syreilla began moving toward the human lines.

"You have no right on this side of the field, Syreilla! Your banner hangs with the elves!" Isca began marching forward as if to meet her.

Speaking in the divine tongue, Syr made her voice thunderously loud. "I HAVE EVERY RIGHT. I AM A HUMAN GODDESS AS WELL. I BELONG TO ALL THREE. YOU BROKE YOUR WORD TO A ROOK! THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES THAT GO WITH THAT, ISCA, GODDESS OF SUFFERING, GODDESS OF MISERY. I WILL GIVE THEM TO YOU ONE AFTER THE OTHER UNTIL YOU ARE NO MORE, UNTIL THOSE WHO NOW WORSHIP YOU TURN FROM YOU IN DISGUST."

With a wave of her hand, she sent the bird of flame into the air and diving back down among their tents as the cowering, shrieking soldiers scrambled in every direction to escape. Once she was certain that even if Isca tried to scream the chaos into order she would fail, Syr opened a door and stepped through, not to the usual place set back from the threshold but pressed against the threshold itself, stepping over the doorstep, to enter the underworld.

Imos greeted her with a baffled look as she stalked into what had once been Hevtos' audience chamber. "Syreilla?"

"Where is Itia? Her mother broke her word and I have a use for her."

"Fetch the False Rook." Imos gave a nod to one of the spectral priests and then studied her. "She is the daughter of a goddess, even in disgrace-"

"Let me worry about that, Uncle."

"There is a matter I wished to speak to you of. Cyran spoke to me of Ezphine. She has not been freed to join the others. Long ago she prayed to me for justice and for vengeance. It was a plea for aid. I could offer her none."

"I'll find her. I've heard a few whispers." She smiled faintly. "Keeping me apprised of what's going on around him so that I can offer help if I need to is part of why Cyran has the bird."

Imos laughed softly.

Itia entered a moment later and brandished the black feather at her smugly.

"You've done too much to be sent directly to peace, Itia. The purpose of that feather is so that you come before me to be judged." Syr frowned and looked the girl up and down slowly. "You once had promise."

"You gave your word to my mother!"

"I made a bargain with your mother. She knows that it hurts me to go back on it even when she's broken her word. I intended to allow you peace but now I have to judge you and give you what I feel you've earned."

Itia blinked and her smugness fell away. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember the bargain? No harm was to come to Nali Rookfriend? That was for you to be granted my feather and for me to ask for leniency and to intercede on your behalf. Then later she struck another, you would be granted rest and peace wholly without punishment as long as no more children were harmed. It shouldn't have been a difficult promise to keep.

"You failed her, Itia. She no longer cares whether you have peace or whether I send you to be purified and punished by my husbands. I have a soft heart and she thinks I won't be so harsh with you that she needs to care. What do you think?"

"I think you're lying." Itia gripped the feather tightly and lifted her chin.

"Come look me in the eye, Itia, daughter of Isca, False Rook, and abandoned child. Tell me what you see there."

The specter advanced not entirely of its own will and looked Syreilla in the eye for a long moment. As it did, Syr looked into Itia. The girl had wanted to please her mother, her mother wanted bloodshed and pain, trying to please her had twisted the young goddess but there was something salvageable inside her. Stripping away the veils of her justifications and letting the horrors of her deeds and weight of right and wrong fall as it should have in life, Syr let the knife twist. She showed the girl how her mother had broken her word after acknowledging that there would be consequences for doing so.