Hammer and Feather Ch. 65-77

Their father had also given Syreilla a good education. After this was done he could ask for the same. Another thought nibbled and got his attention, "If I want to be an elven god perhaps I should ask an elven god for my education."

The words were spoken mostly under his breath but they brought Itia down from her branch. Is something wrong?

He whispered an answer, "No... I was just thinking out loud."

It's time to wake Valim. If you're talking to yourself you need some rest. The bird flew back to her perch.

Breathing a laugh, Kwes sat for another long moment in silence letting his thoughts settle. Now that it had been suggested, rest seemed like an excellent idea. He slipped soundlessly to the tent and woke Valim for his watch. The man rose from his mat without a protest and without rousing the two sleeping priestesses next to him.

Kwes took his place on the mat. He wasn't as tired as he'd expected to be but the moment he closed his eyes he must have fallen asleep. It seemed that the space between blinks had transported him somewhere else entirely. Looking around at the stone ruins he realized that Cyran was there speaking to someone.

"Cyran?"

"Kwes!" The man looked relieved. "I was having so much difficulty in drawing you into the dream I thought-"

"I was awake and keeping watch. I just woke Valim and laid down to get some rest."

"I told you not to worry so greatly." Ahevhethrah chuckled. "Allow me to draw Syvezar to speak with us."

"Why?" Kwes felt a sinking certainty in his belly that something had gone wrong.

"A great deal has happened. I wanted to come speak with you face to face but there was concern that it would cause events to take another, more difficult, path." Cyran looked concerned and Kwes wanted to shake him to make him get to the point.

"What happened?"

"The huntress attacked Navisse's temple."

For a moment the dream went silent and Kwes sat heavily on a broken stone block.

"Kwes?" Cyran gripped him by the shoulders. "You started to slip out of the dream."

"Amtalia, Belthamdir-"

"Are alive. Navisse and Syreilla both went with them. Navisse refused to abandon them and Syreilla surrendered herself for the promise that they would not be killed."

"Surrendered..."

"They aren't safe but they haven't yet been harmed." Ahevhethrah placed a hand on his back.

"Why would she surrender?"

"Sometimes the way in is through a cell door." Syvezar smiled faintly. "She could leave if she wished but there is an event that she's waiting for."

Kwes took a breath and nodded slowly. "She's waiting for me to arrive. What does she need?"

"If Syreilla is already there you can return to safety." Ahevhethrah looked at him with an odd, unreadable expression.

"No. She promised that I could steal the stones, she's not going after them. If you need them, that's my job."

A pleased look crossed his face, "Then you need to know about the temple in my Garden. Inside, I laid inscriptions to limit who might pass through its chambers."

"The stones are inside it?"

"They are. The huntress found a soul who met the requirements and sent him in to desecrate my temple. The first chambers will allow no god but myself and no mortal with any gift for magic to pass. The second will stop anyone with ill intent toward me or my stone. The final chamber will bar any who do not have a pure heart from reaching the pedestal. Foolishly, I thought that would be enough." The god smiled wryly and Kwes inclined his head.

"I would have thought the same, it might keep me from getting to it. I'll need to think about it."

"Speak to Syreilla." Syvezar smiled at him, "She sees the way around obstacles. And I think..." The half-dragon hesitated and then nodded, "if you would bring her some spare tools she would be grateful. She's annoyed that hers were taken. They aren't necessary, she can escape without them, but she feels naked without her tools."

Kwes breathed a laugh. "I understand. She let them take her talons?"

"She gave them up to be allowed to keep Braigon close." Syvezar was holding something back, Kwes heard it in his tone.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"She saw something when the huntress held her boot knife."

"Harming them with Syreilla's knife wouldn't surprise me. I'll steal it too if I can. We'll get moving as soon as I wake."

"Be safe." Ahevhethrah gave him a warm smile and Kwes couldn't help but laugh.

"Syreilla told me to be safe or be fucking cunning, I can only do one, Grandfather. Cunning will get you further." He grinned as the flame-eyed god laughed and then he woke, sitting up in the dark tent.

"Kwes?" One of the priestesses stirred and looked at him nervously.

"It's time to go."

Sticking his head out of the tent he found Valim standing, alertly staring into the near trees. A face peeked around one a short distance from where the man was looking. Kwes dropped to his belly crawling out as silently and gracefully as he could before slipping amongst the trees and drawing his knife. Itia fluttered down from a branch and burrowed under his cowl.

He circled and found a handful of scouts and a priest. The man was kneeling and praying. With a flick of his wrist, Kwes could embed the knife in the man's throat.

Itia made a soft sound. Wait.

Alryna and Nerilin began to ask Valim what was happening and the priest opened his eyes with a smirk.

"Two of the priestesses escaped. That is why the goddess sent us here. Kill them." He rose and dusted off his knees as the scouts advanced on Valim.

Now. Itia chirped the command and the knife left his hand. The priest gurgled in surprise distracting the scouts and Valim attacked without hesitation. Kwes disarmed one of the scouts deftly and joined the fight making quick work of the rest of them.

"Pack up," Kwes murmured before slipping into the trees to be certain that there weren't any more watching and waiting.

The priestesses worked quickly and the small camp was struck. The three horses were loaded and nervous in the dark.

"Kwes?" Valim hissed. "Godsdamn that elf."

"I'm here. I'm making sure there aren't any more of them, no need to curse me."

"Where do we go now?"

"Toward the Garden. Syreilla is waiting for us in a cell and trying to keep their attention."

"She's not doing a very good job." Valim helped Nerilin onto the horse.

"She's trying to keep my family and several elvish children safe while she does. The huntress has been very busy."

"Take the horse, Kwes. I got some rest and you-"

"You ride, Valim. I can keep pace with a horse more easily and for longer than you can." He palmed the sigil and the faint path lit in front of him. "I'll guide you."

"Can you see?" Nerilin sounded worried.

"I can."

"He's an elf, Nerilin." Valim snorted a laugh. "They see in the dark like cats."

"Not quite but we see more than you do." Kwes found himself grinning. "Let's go. I want to get to Syreilla and get my wife and the children to safety."

"Did she summon you?" Alryna asked in a whisper.

"No. Cyran pulled me into a dream to tell me what had happened."

"Has the plan changed?" Valim asked quietly.

"Not all of it. We go to the village near the Garden and blend in. I need to make my way to where they keep their prisoners-"

"I can help with that. I can find the right ones to talk to. You hang back a bit and bring the girls when I'm ready."

°°°°°°°°°°

Kwes watched as Valim blended into the soldiers without difficulty. Himself, he stayed out of sight. It wasn't terribly difficult. The town huddled against the castle fortress being built was filled with thin, hungry peasants and more than enough dirty faces to make hiding in plain sight feasible. Curious looks slid off of him like water off of a leaf. The two priestesses posed more of a problem.

Women were in short supply and all of those in the village looked harried and nervous for good reason. He'd seen the soldiers leering loudly at more than one and demanding a kiss. After consideration, he bought some clothing from a widow and went back to where he'd left them with Itia.

"You can't go into town as women. It's not safe. You need to dress as men and-"

"We'd never pass for-"

"You will if you do as I say. Use some cloth to bind your breasts down, we'll cut your hair-"

"But our hair-"

"Will grow back. If you get caught with long pretty hair you'll wish you'd never been born. Every woman in that village is terrified for good reason."

They blinked and swallowed, looking at each other before nodding. Kwes stepped away to let them ready themselves. After a time he came back to find them dressed and nervous.

"We still look like women."

"Come here." He rubbed his hands together and then took out one of the powders he'd picked up and put in his kit. He carefully applied it to Nerilin's face, smudging it to make it look as if there were a light dusting of hair along her jaw and cheeks.

He used a different powder for Alryna before adding dirt and mussing their hair with grease on his fingers. When he'd finished, two nervous young men stood in front of him. At least that's what anyone should see at a glance.

"Practice walking. Slouch, look down, put your heels down solidly." They circled him until their walks were good enough and then he added, "If you have to speak, make your voice low and a little hoarse. Stutter, or act like you're not bright at all. People will dismiss you and ignore you.

"I'll be with you. You'll be my cousins and I may have to insult you. Just keep your faces down and look miserable like you'd rather be anywhere else. If Valim can't get us into uniforms we may need to go in as workers helping to build their fortress. Whatever you do, don't squeak, don't cry, don't scream, and don't speak sharply to anyone. The only way we can help these people is to do what we came to do."

Alryna and Nerilin both nodded. Itia fluttered down to perch on his shoulder.

"You'll need names, Alryn and Neril should do. That way you'll recognize when someone speaks to you and you won't forget what you're called."

Nerilin started to go for her horse and Kwes pinched his nose.

"You're peasants. Only the soldiers have horses. We walk. Leave them here, and we need to hide our things. Whether we can come back for them or not we don't want them to be found."

They began to pack up and conceal the small camp and he trotted off with the horses to tie them a distance away.

"Itia? I need you to have a look around, carefully and unnoticed if you can. Try to keep your distance from us so that we don't arouse suspicions."

I can try. You're carrying too many sigils. She might feel you. Be very careful. Itia sounded worried and he nodded slowly.

"Let me give you one of them. Keep it safe and don't lose it." It didn't feel right taking off Cyran's bracelet but he would need Syreilla's sigil to help guide him and if he shouldn't take both... He gave it to the bird before he could think too hard about it. "Don't lose it."

I won't.

Leaving the horses tied, Kwes made his way back into the village with Alryna and Nerilin, catching sight of Valim dressed as the other soldiers were and leaning against a building. The man glanced around and then joined them.

"I was able to get a uniform. I said I had a young cousin who might want to join up and they said to tell him to run the other way. They know the gods are angry with them and most of them would rather be anywhere else."

"Maybe we can make our way up posing as builders."

"Maybe." He led them among the tents to one with a harried looking man.

This tent had a scribe's table, papers, writing implements, and a fat cat curled on the spare chair.

"Anred, this is-"

"This is three people." The man looked at them sharply.

"My da made me bring my cousins. They showed up on our doorstep hungry-"

"His cousins aren't my cousins." Valim shrugged.

Anred sighed and put his head in his hands.

"They all look too young and too small to fight even if I wanted to damn them that way."

"If there's money or food in it they can haul dirt or paint, or-"

"Yes, yes." With a sigh, the man waved his hand and started leafing through the papers.

"The priests need some help. There's kitchen work, there's stable work, they don't look strong enough for the building and I don't want to send these boys to be worked to death and have the gods blame me for it."

"I can cook," Nerilin murmured.

Anred chuckled, "You can haul food up, wash pans, and maybe peel vegetables." He readied his pen. "Your names, the whole names please."

"Edun Rocan." Kwes spoke up.

"Alryn Droyn."

"Neril Droyn."

He felt a moment of relief when they both gave the same surname. Anred wrote hastily and after a moment of filling something out on a piece of paper with other names, he wrote what looked like a short letter and handed it to Valim.

"Take this with you. You can escort them up to the kitchens. If anyone stops you, tell them you have orders."

*Sixty-eight*

Syreilla watched carefully as Braigon was chained next to her in the cell. She gestured to him to tilt his hands upward so that the manacles didn't slip off. The guard either didn't notice or didn't care that the boy could slip out of them without difficulty. He stepped out and locked the door.

"Fetch yourself a chair." The priest, Aderune, stood outside the cell studying her with a less hostile expression than the one he'd worn in front of his mother.

The guard bowed and hurried away.

"You were born mortal? A member of my family?"

"I was. You want to discuss family history?"

He snorted and she saw the resemblance to Isca. "No. I want to know how you became a goddess. The divinity says you have to be born to it and that I will only ever be a priest. But if you were born mortal..."

Syr laughed and shook her head. "I was. You aren't born to it, you grow into it if you live long enough and you choose to embrace it. Itia, the False Rook, was also born mortal. She nurtured it in her daughter like a seedling before you put it in the garden. Her mistake was that she tried to plant your sister in my place without finding a way to kill me first."

"You can't kill gods."

"You can. I've killed two, Rielle and Itia."

Aderune held up his hand to silence her as the guard returned with the chair. "Leave the chair. I want to speak to the prisoner and when I finish I'll call for you."

The guard looked nervous but he put the seat down and hurried away.

"How?"

"With my talons. I used them to sever their connection to their worshippers, to their power, and to life. I'm Hevtos' Golden Rook but I belong to all three of the races and those blades were made by the dwarven god of death as a gift to me. He made all of my blades."

"Why would he give you such a powerful gift?" The man's eyes narrowed.

"Because I gave my Eye to the dwarves. It's safe with them and they use it to secure their mines and protect themselves."

His brow furrowed.

"Syreilla's Eye is the name of my stone. It's set in a circlet, the way Mabor likes his, in a crown."

"Ah." Aderune looked thoughtful, leaning back in his seat. "She wanted your blades so badly because they can kill gods. She wants your stone to put you under her command but you aren't under the command of the dwarves."

"No, but I belong to them. And I do defer to all three of the gods of death. I belong to all three races." She gave him an amused look as he began to study her again, "You do know that there was dwarf in my mother's lineage? Depending on what branch of the family you are, you may have some as well. I've always been the fondest of dwarves."

"Why are you Hevtos' Golden Rook and not..." he gestured vaguely.

"I put myself in his service because my husband was his to command. Atos would prefer I stood alone but the other gods, now that they know what I can do, won't stand for it. They feel safer knowing someone can command me."

"How did you choose to embrace divinity?" Aderune frowned.

"I was a born thief. The first thing I stole was my mortal father's name. I turned that talent to stealing Uncle Imos' place and giving it to my cousin. If Hevtos hadn't made me stop I was doing very well." She smiled at his bafflement. "The task I chose was so ambitious that it required me to embrace it. No one is going to stop me from pulling your mother from her place and putting someone else on it. Rielle's replacement is already rising."

"Who will you replace her with?" His eyes narrowed again.

"That is yet to be seen. When you kill a god you can put someone in their place or you can let a new god rise."

A sly smile passed quickly over his face. "She didn't make me her highest priest until reports came that the False Rook as you call her had vanished and several of the other more favored priests had been slain. I understand about rising into new positions when their former occupants die. Who will rise to replace you? When she's done with you she intends to kill you."

Grinning, Syr shrugged, "Not if I kill her first. My chance hasn't passed yet. But if she does kill me, it will be a god of vengeance that rises to replace me. I have a brother who is still... becoming." She gestured toward him as if he were as well. "Until a certain point, you're malleable. The need around you will shape you, as will your choices and ambitions. It sets and you begin to understand what you've become the god of when you're recognized. It was Hevtos who recognized me and introduced me as what I am."

He looked thoughtful again and then gave her a curt, almost respectful nod, turning on his heel and calling for the guard to take his place as he left. The ball had left her hand spinning with intent and Isca wouldn't see it coming.

She put on an innocent expression and looked at Braigon. The boy's eyes were wide.

"You might become something someday. Have you met Bone White?"

"You're teasing me."

"I am not! I-"

A blade struck the bars. "You'll be silent, both of you."

Syr folded her hands and leaned back giving the boy a reassuring smile.

"Get that look off of your face or I'll come in there and wipe it off."

Letting her smile fade, she fixed the man with a cool look and tilted her head slightly. He fell silent and she waited. It might be a day or two until Magpie arrived and there was nothing else she could do but wait and watch. The guard began to stare intently at the floor and she gave Braigon another reassuring look before closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. Olthon was watching over Belthamdir and keeping an eye on Finwion.

The large-eyed elf was trying to reassure the girl and when Isca wasn't there he was trading long looks with Navisse. Nimphon had snatched his stone but... he could have done more. The question of why he hadn't started to itch at the back of her mind. And why would Finwion put the children at risk?

There were pieces missing. Her eyes opened as she heard chains jingle, Braigon was shifting around uncomfortably on his bench.

"Stop moving." The guard barked sharply and Syr turned her head to look at him again. "I was told to kill the boy if you..."

He trailed off as she put on a wide mirthless grin.

"Open the door to harm him and it will be the last thing you ever do." Turning back to Braigon, she let her expression become more gentle, "I had trouble being still as a small child. Get into a position that you can hold and turn your thoughts inward. It's evening, I'm here, and you're safe. You can close your eyes."

The boy gave a nervous look to the guard and then nodded before lying down and closing his eyes as if he were going to sleep.

"I can get a crossbow." The guard muttered and she shifted her gaze back.

"And when you die my husband, the god of pain and punishment, will have something very, very special waiting for you because I will put myself between your weapon and that child. He gets angry when mortals are so disrespectful as to try to harm me." She glanced down at the torn shoulder of her shirt where she'd been stabbed and then smiled at the man. The flesh beneath the tear was unbroken.