Hammer and Feather Ch. 65-77

Making his way forward, he realized that there were no other guards or any soldiers here, only a pair of priests who were looking at him oddly.

"Is that what the birds look like?" He glanced at one and the odd look turned to annoyance.

The priest stomped over to where he stood and pointed to the door. "You have duties to perform. If you have time to gawk at such things and listen to lies spun-"

The knife was out of his sleeve in a heartbeat and he stabbed the man in the throat, cutting it with the Rook's knife. The other priest was casting some sort of spell, but he threw the knife, embedding it in the man's neck, stopping him.

Kwes rushed the altar and pulled the bird down, yanking the skewers out and running his hands over it. "She said you can't die because you're already dead... Nimphon? Can you heal him?"

After a moment the bird shuddered and the wounds seemed to close. It gave him a pointed look and then flew directly out of the door.

"A good idea."

He stopped to get Syreilla's knife but as he twisted and pulled it free he heard footsteps. The sound of men running. Crouching and wishing he could make himself blend in with the walls, he slipped into a side room. It was some sort of scribe's nook with books and a pair of desks. The large small-paned window wouldn't open but it could be broken quietly with something to muffle the sound.

Kwes put himself in a corner to hide for a moment and as he expected, men glanced in hurriedly as the alarm was raised. Seeing no one, they shut the door. Outside the window he saw men beginning to marshal themselves, running past as they were summoned to their formations. It was exactly the kind of chaos that would make an escape easy, but it made breaking out through the window impossible. It would be noticed the moment he began.

Thinking carefully, he cleaned the blade as he tried to decide on what to do next.

The door opened again and he kept as still and silent as a corpse.

"Isca knows you're in this chamber. If you come out now I'll take you to your daughter." The man's eyes passed over the furniture and settled on the shadowed corner he was standing in. An eerie smile crossed his features. "The offer will not remain open for long, Riellion Fethurin.

Stepping forward, Kwes held up his hands, the blade wrapped in the dirty cloth and safely stowed in his sleeve. "My name is Kwes."

"Your name is whatever the greatest goddess says it is."

"Then my name is Magpie." He broke into his best imitation of Syreilla's smile. "My sister is certainly greater than your goddess."

The man's lips twisted as if he were going to curse and then the eerie smile returned. "Your sister is in the cells. Helpless."

"I doubt that." He grinned. "Take me to my daughter."

The priest gestured and Kwes stepped out of the room to be greeted by nervous men armed with swords. He gave them Syreilla's grin and some shifted their weight as if they wanted to step back.

"Cowards." The priest muttered under his breath.

Kwes followed him deeper into the temple up some stairs and into the uppermost floor. Belthamdir sat in a chair with a tearful but furious look on her face and Finwion stood nearby. Navisse was chained and seated in a chair with a frigid expression looking past him at Isca.

Bowing, the priest closed the door.

"Are you alright?"

"Papa-"

"She's fine as long as Finwion behaves. The little elf brat has learned what happens when she defies me."

"Defiance is bred into the line." He grinned again and dipped into a mocking bow. "Syreilla thinks she got it from the dwarves but I think it came from our father."

"Odos' defiance can be dampened with a blow." Isca chuckled.

"I didn't mean that father." He held his grin. "Why do you think he took two children from the same elvish line?"

"He should have taken another from King Adevalor's line, my highest priest is as clever as your sister and as vicious."

Kwes laughed and then waved his hand in an imitation of Odos. "You only catch Syreilla when she wants you to. While she may be in your cells like he said, you can trust that she'll only stay there until she decides to leave. But I'd believe he's vicious, her mother is where she inherited that from. It takes a-well you know how deep the reservoir of viciousness and cruelty has to be to discard your own child."

The goddess' hands clenched. "I could keep you to ensure the little brat's good behavior but I think I'd rather gut you and hang you on my altar as well."

"I will scratch your eyes out, you nightmare! You evil horrible woman! Dry branches in flame around your home and lice in all your beds!" Belthamdir leapt to her feet scowling and making clawed hands at the goddess of war.

Finwion tried to calm her with gestures but she glared at him.

"My little finch, remember what your grandfather taught you." He gave her a small smile. "When is as important as what, in words and deeds."

She looked at him grimly and then nodded letting him put her back in her seat without any more shouting.

Isca's attention was pulled away for a moment and he took the opportunity to slip Syreilla's wrapped knife into his daughter's boot. Kwes cupped her face and stood up to kiss her forehead. He gave Finwion a pointed look as the elf came with his hands open toward Belthamdir.

"You've killed more than my two priests. You murdered the six men that were guarding my prisoners and set your wife and the other children free. Syreilla's cell door was opened but she didn't leave."

"I told you, she's there because she has a reason to be. The problem with being a son of Odos is that everyone assumes you're lying." He folded his arms and shrugged.

"And you're here..."

"I wanted to be near my daughter."

"Then why did you hide?"

"If I hadn't they might have killed me before you made the offer." He put on a winning smile and her face darkened.

"Where is Syreilla's blade, the blade you used to murder my priests?"

"I hid it. Would you like to search me?" He gave her a leer and felt the wind knocked out of him as she made a gesture knocking him to the floor. Getting up a little shakily, he breathed a laugh. "Is that a no?"

"Where is it?"

"Hidden." Kwes met her glower with amusement. "I haven't been that many places between now and when I killed them, surely your clever son can find it?"

Isca raised her hand and Belthamdir spoke firmly, "If you hurt him, I'll be the worst brat you've ever seen and I won't stop. I'll scream and claw you and-"

"One more word out of you and he dies."

His daughter's mouth closed. Isca lowered her hand.

"You have at least one use." She glanced away and a mere moment later the door opened and the priest entered again, bowing. "Search him for the knife and if he doesn't have it, search everywhere he's been. I want it back. I want Syreilla to watch her loved ones suffer on the tips of her own blades and that one is her favorite."

Kwes allowed the priest to search him, smiling innocently at the man each time the priest looked up at him. The spare pouch of tools he'd brought was removed from his pants and his own short-bladed boot knife was pulled from his boot.

"He doesn't have it."

The fool tried to menace him with his own knife and Kwes blinked as if stunned and afraid before deftly disarming the man. Isca arched an eyebrow and he bowed, dropping the blade on the floor.

"I could have killed him with it. I refrained."

"I saw. I expect better of mine." Her tone was cool and the man's face was red as he picked up the knife. "Find me that blade."

Finwion rocked on his toes and wagged a finger at the half-elf with a smile.

"Stop that, you mute fool." Isca snapped. "Wait here."

She vanished from sight once again and Kwes glanced at Navisse. The elven goddess gave a nod of her head. Immediately, he scooped up his daughter.

"Ahevhethrah, Grandfather, I know I'm asking a lot-" The door opened in front of him and the smiling god held out his arms. Kwes passed his daughter to him. "Thank you. Nothing I could ever do or offer could be enough."

The door closed and a heartbeat later Isca reappeared. She took in the fact that the child was gone and raised her hand, glaring at him. Finwion stepped between them gesturing and she knocked them both back.

"That brat-"

"My daughter is my everything. I would risk-"

"YOU WILL BE SILENT!" Isca shouted and the windows shook. "Syreilla can watch you die on her talons. Watching the girl die on her boot knife would have been better but she makes such a fuss about her mortal family it barely matters which of you it is."

Finwion picked himself up and his gestures were large and sharp.

"I don't care what I promised you about the brat. You're useless now that Nimphon has taken your stone and the others know you changed allegiance to spite Syreilla."

A handful of priests came into the room bearing chains and she waved her hand, pinning the large-eyed elf to the floor as they chained him.

"Take the wretch impersonating a guard to the cells and let him wait. I want him bound and gagged." The goddess glowered and watched them carefully. "Finwion and Navisse are coming with me. I have a place to put them. Syreilla thinks she can escape from any prison? I have one that can hold her."

Kwes was careful with how he held his arms as they bound him and he didn't fight the gag. Without his tools it might be tricky getting out of the cell but if Syreilla could manage it... He allowed himself to be led back down without a fight.

°°°°°°°°°

He rested in the empty cell across from where Amtalia had been and hoped she'd gotten somewhere with the children safely. Perhaps Ahevhethrah had opened a door for them as well. A bloodied woman with more than a half dozen children would be hard to sneak out any other way even without the points on their ears.

A guard stalked down the corridor and glared at him before leaving again. Probably checking to make certain he hadn't freed himself or escaped. Perhaps they thought that someone would open a door to fetch him. Or that anyone who'd come with him would try to free him. He groaned as he realized what they were doing.

The sound of low voices and then a scuffle caught his attention. Valim jogged to the cells with keys in hand.

"We don't have much time."

Kwes shook his head, slipping out of his bonds and tugging the gag out of his mouth. "You know this was a trap, right?"

The man narrowed his eyes and muttered something about scaly balls under his breath as they both heard the sound of soldiers sealing the corridor.

"Now what? Alryna and Nerilin ran into your wife and the children escaping. They did something and then they all vanished."

"I had asked Father to help them. He got them to the priestesses and they called on Grandmother. I called on Grandfather and let him take Belthamdir."

The soldier sighed and nodded. "Good. If we die it isn't too much of a tragedy. I'd feel bad knowing I failed and left children to die."

Kwes couldn't help but grin at the man, "You might end up as one of my sister's priests. She'd approve of you."

Valim gave him a dirty look.

"Her dwarven priestess said the human priests she takes will probably be mercenaries that you don't go to for petty things. Unpleasant men that get paid to take vengeance on behalf of others and never harm children."

The man stared at him flatly and then snorted a laugh before breaking into a small smile. "That doesn't sound like a bad job for after this has finished. If we live that long. And it would mean I was on her good side."

Stepping out into the corridor, Kwes grinned and looked around. "It certainly would. What do you think they'll do next?"

"It depends. Do they want us alive or dead?"

"They want me alive to kill me in front of my sister with her own knives."

"Plans like that tend to turn into 'just kill them'. It's a matter of time before they overwhelm us with numbers and kill us here. Otherwise, they would be telling us to surrender and come out to them or get into the cell."

"Are there any windows or-"

"Nothing that isn't barred with good thick steel." Valim gave him an amused look. "You're slim but not slim enough to slip through."

"Have you ever prayed to a forge goddess?" Kwes grinned. "At the moment the gods are all listening and eager to help. You've met Ezphine."

The only window that led to a side not crawling with Isca's soldiers opened onto the nearly sheer stone of the outer wall. Valim crawled up the angled shaft first and Kwes remained at the bottom with the sword to ward off any attacks that might come while the man was praying and trying to dislodge the steel.

He muttered under his breath, "Ezphine if you would listen to Valim and help us I would be grateful," and felt it as something changed behind him.

Valim laughed in delighted surprise at the same time. "Kwes! She listened! You were right! Ezphine listened and helped us! I've never had a god listen to a prayer in my life! You'll have to tell me what I can give her-"

"If we live through this I'll let you ask her yourself!" Kwes grinned as soldiers advanced on him. "Can you get out safely?"

"Maybe, I think there's a crack further down I can-"

"Do it!" He shouted as he attacked the first of the soldiers. This was going to be ugly.

*Seventy-one*

Magpie rushed out of her sight and Syreilla stood abruptly, shuffling out of the cell and dropping her knee on the now groaning guard's neck. It put her boot with the tools in position to tug them free while removing the threat to Braigon while she worked. These locks were Ezphine's and the angle wasn't ideal; she remained kneeling, quietly working, freeing her hands and then beginning on her ankle manacles, until the boy came out and tapped her shoulder.

"You should get back in the cell. More of them could come soon."

The man under her knee was dead and she gave the child a faint smile, "Of course, dear one."

Back in the cell, she worked the locks on her ankles. The last lock came open almost as they heard voices in the corridor.

"Go. Slip those back on," Syr hissed before sitting up with an innocent smile, concealing the tools in her hands.

Men came and checked on the dead guard before running back down the corridor and leaving them alone. She tucked the tools back into her boot and arranged the open manacles, holding onto the chains. Drawing a bit of thin smoke from the nearby brazier now burning with dragon's fire, she held the ankles in place so that it wasn't obvious at a glance that she was free. A short time later a half dozen of Isca's priests came and opened the door wide.

"You are to accompany us."

"Come on, Braigon. This should be fun." Syr put on a wide grin. "How angry is she?"

"We don't have the key for the boy. You were summoned, not-"

"I don't need it." Braigon slipped the chains and hurried to her side as she stood.

"Stay close to me, dear one. She gave her word and there are consequences for crossing the Rook."

The priests looked nervously at one another but led the pair out and back into the temple. Syr grinned at the soldiers who were watching and saw several shudder. One looked very familiar. Valim dipped his head respectfully.

If Isca was peeved to see the boy at her side she didn't show it. The goddess of war's smirk seemed more smug than usual if anything. Finwion and Navisse, however, both looked grim. The priests were dismissed with a wave of her hand and a door opened.

"Your brother was insistent that you're biding your time before you get up to mischief again, Syreilla. So I have a new cell for you." The goddess gestured through the door.

"This place was built to withstand all the fury of the gods. We were forced to remain until we agreed on terms and rules." Isca smirked as Syreilla stepped in followed by Navisse, Braigon, and Finwion. "Only I hold the key now, your worthless father bartered it along with his stone for the safety of some traveling singers and poets. You'll be here until Ahevhethrah and Nimphon come to me to bargain for you."

"They should know better than to do that." Syr grinned widely as Isca picked up the talons that were lying on the table in her view. "The prison has not yet been built that can hold me, Isca."

"You're a foolish child. You're locked away and I have your helpless mortal brother and these." With a triumphant smirk, Isca closed the door, leaving them in a chamber so dark it barely lightened with the help of her good eye.

Looking around, she saw the massive stone table, round stools with no backs that looked like raised parts of the floor were evenly spaced around it. There were mirrors like she'd seen in her father's library that were meant to catch the light from the braziers and illuminate the room.

"You know how to get out, don't you?" Braigon whispered. "It's so dark..."

"Let me illuminate the room for you, dear one." Syr shook off the chains and brought her flame to hand.

Navisse was staring at her. "If you could do that..."

"No chains can hold me if I don't allow them to and I need her to think I'm safely tucked away."

Finwion held up his chained hands and then wagged a finger at her with an exasperated expression.

"I think I can guess what you were trying to do, but I'm still not on speaking terms with you. You don't put people I want to keep safe in harm's way no matter your intentions."

Setting her fire to burn in the center of the table and a handful of the braziers, Syreilla took out the small tool pouch that Magpie had tucked into her boot and opened the locks for both of the elven gods. The mirrors picked up the light and the room had brightened enough for Braigon to explore it. She let the smoke gather and a new draped mantle began to form around her.

"There's no doors or windows. How do we get out?" The elf child came back to the table with a concerned frown.

"How are you with riddles, dear one?" Syr grinned at him and Finwion hopped over next to the boy gesturing to him.

"He says it's a human riddle."

"One my father liked very much." Syreilla laughed. "I didn't think I'd ever see the room."

"Tell me the riddle. I'm good at riddles." Braigon nodded.

"We find ourselves in a room with no doors and no windows. We have only a table and a mirror." She gestured to the nearest one. "Using what we have, how do we escape?"

"But we have the chains and the stools-" The boy started and Finwion flopped onto the floor covering his eyes.

"Repeat to me the riddle in the common tongue, dear one." Syreilla laughed.

"We find ourselves in a room with no doors and no windows. We have only a table and a mirror. Using what we have, how do we escape?" Braigon frowned and came to look in the mirror.

Syr came to stand behind him with a smile. "What do you see?"

He gazed in the mirror and then tilted his head, "Me. The same thing I always see."

She brought her head down next to his with a grin and whispered in his ear, meeting Navisse's eyes in the mirror. "Do you see what you saw?"

Braigon gasped and then lurched forward grasping at the mirror. From the reflection of the dragon's fire behind them, he pulled the feather he'd been given. Navisse had allowed it to be drawn from her keeping through the reflected firelight.

"How? Navisse took our feathers when the soldiers came and made them vanish!"

"The riddle's answer goes, look in the mirror, see what you saw. Take the saw. Go to the table..." She gestured to it and the boy darted over, looking at it in amazement as if it were the first time he'd ever seen such a thing.

"It's-it's a word game! I took the saw." He held up the feather. "And the table..."