Hammer and Feather Ch. 65-77

She glanced over and Finwion was grinning at her, he wagged a finger at her not to help the boy.

Navisse came to crouch next to the child. "How do we get out?"

"I don't know." Braigon's brow furrowed.

"What can you do to a table with a saw?"

"Cut it but..." He broke into a grin, "If I cut it in half, two halves make a whole, we can get out through the hole!"

The child brought the feather to the table edge and made a sawing motion. The table cracked in two, a ragged line all the way from one side to the other. Once it had cracked, the place in the center where the dragon's fire was burning fell in. Finwion began to laugh. The stone support for the table was hollow.

"Odos helped to design this chamber." Navisse shook her head with a smile. "I should have known he would leave a way out."

"Father has more sense than to make an inescapable room. Out we go."

Braigon had scrambled onto the broken table and was next to the hole when he asked, "But... if you knew all of that, why did you need me to do it?"

"It's your saw, dear one, and no one else's." Syr grinned and the boy beamed, clutching his feather.

Navisse slipped into the hole first, followed by Braigon, Syreilla and Finwion were last. She watched the large-eyed elf make a series of peculiar gestures at the opening as she was climbing down and it seemed that an illusion of the tabletop above them had been put back in place.

He gave her a smug look, plucking at his clothes once they'd reached the bottom of the shaft, and she tried not to laugh. Instead, she gave him a nod of grudging approval.

Syr opened a door at the dead-end to another cavern, trusting her luck that the intention to step out close enough to the fortress to be where they needed to be and still far enough away not to be felt would put them somewhere useful. She lit the way through the natural caverns they came out in, with her good eye the path was faint but visible, and brought them out into a wooded area. A small brown songbird dropped from a tree and landed on her shoulder.

Where have you been? I can't find Kwes and when I go near the town I get chased away. They're killing any birds that they can. He gave me this. The bird flew to the base of a tree where she'd hidden a bracelet beneath the leaves.

Picking it up, Syreilla smiled and nodded, twisting it and making it into a small loop. "Come here."

Itia obeyed and she put the bracelet on the bird like a collar.

"Keep it on you until he needs it, and he will. Go with Finwion." She turned and gave the smiling elf a stern look, "Don't lose my bird or my brother and we'll be back on better terms."

He looked offended and she tilted her head, "That you were as dear to me as my brother is the only reason you weren't on fire when I dropped you back into your clearing. If you had stabbed me with my own talons you couldn't have hurt me more. I am the goddess of righteous vengeance, Finwion. Forgiveness is difficult for me, but I leave room for redemption."

The large-eyed elf held up his hand and nodded before placing the other over his heart.

"I'm entrusting you with my bird, to aid you, and with my brother's safety."

Finwion made several more gestures and Braigon spoke up curiously, "Why does he say you're offering him another sausage and he's grateful."

She smiled and inclined her head, "I suppose I am. I'm not looking forward to the waybread I have to eat in exchange."

Both of the elven gods laughed.

Finwion beckoned to Itia. The bird flew to him and he tucked her into the neck of his tunic before darting off into the woods and disappearing among the trees.

"You'll both want cloaks to help conceal you, black will do?" She grinned as the boy and the goddess both looked at her in bafflement. Shaking out her draped mantle she divided it into two cloaks and handed them to Navisse and Braigon.

"What about you?" Braigon frowned.

"I can make another easily enough, but for now I'm going to practice not being seen. Look after him for just a little longer, Navisse? His mother is with the elves who were rescued by the dwarves at Bhiraldur. I wanted to take him there myself but if you wanted to, they might be grateful if you helped them make their way home and you could hear a few stories about my dragons while you're there." With a look, she tried to convey that she wasn't certain if the boy should be close by for what was coming.

"I will." The elf inclined her head with a smile and took the boy's hand. They slipped away into the trees as well.

When Magpie had pulled Olthon down she'd sent him to scout around before letting him go to Belthamdir. At least she had an idea of what was waiting in the Garden and the temple. The path unfolding in front of her was filled with risk and she fought the urge to run down it instead of walking.

Syr turned toward the rising rocky ground in front of her. It was cleared around the base of the stone outcropping that the fortress was built on and the spires of stone in the near distance which held the Garden of Twilight had a small army between them and the fortress.

Her tattered work clothes were shades of grey and brown, unremarkable in color, but still dark enough to be noticed against the paler stone and dried grasses in the light of the afternoon sun. To rush ahead, as much as she wanted to finish this, would be foolish. Syr stopped breathing and steepled her fingers, crouching to think. How did the other gods manage to fade the way they did?

*Seventy-two*

Kwes drifted out of a grey haze and looked up into Finwion's large eyes. The elf looked relieved.

We thought you were already dead. Itia's voice was almost giddy. He took Cyran's sigil and pressed it into your worst wound and then the bracelet dissolved and the wounds all closed. It still took you a while to wake up.

"I'll thank Cyran later. I may even let him win a game of Massacre." Kwes laughed softly as the elf kneeling over him grinned and wagged his finger. As if the gesture were words he understood the meaning, he was as bad as his sister.

Finwion helped him sit up and he took a deep breath. "Did Valim get away?"

We saw him come down, that's how we knew where to come in. While we waited for you to wake up, I saw him meet up with Syreilla and go running for the Garden with her. She looked a little hazy and Finwion thought it was very funny.

The elf made more gestures once Kwes was on his feet. Syreilla isn't good at fading out of sight. Fire likes to be noticed.

"We need to get out unseen. She promised I could steal those stones and she'll wait for me to do it."

The grin on Finwion's face told him the elf had an idea.

"Only a fool would ignore the clever boy's suggestions." He dipped into a bow and the elf laughed.

The gestures were fast and for a moment he thought he didn't understand. Then the meaning dawned on him. They were to exchange faces and places entirely. Disguised as Finwion, Kwes would find it easier to get into the garden.

"She'll kill you if she thinks you're me. She wants my sister to watch me die on-"

The talons, the hooked gesture Finwion made was unmistakable, the elf knew already. He intended to steal them. She would try to kill him, disguised as Kwes, and he would take the blades from her and get them to Syreilla.

Kwes frowned considering it. "She'll know you aren't me if you can't provoke her a little. Take my voice too." At the startled look on the god's face, he added, "Give it back when you're done."

Finwion opened his hands as if asking why.

"You're my daughter's second father and you were always my favorite of the elven gods. I trust you, despite the little shove you gave my sister." His throat suddenly felt constricted, like there was a lump he couldn't swallow.

"I'll give it back." Finwion smiled as he spoke in Kwes' voice, "Because you trust me, and because Belthamdir and Syreilla would never forgive me."

As eerie as it was to hear his own voice spoken from another mouth, it was worse to see the other man's face ripple like water and have his own take its place. Even their clothing seemed to change.

"Go. And you little bird, go with him and guide him."

Without a voice, Kwes wasn't sure how to relay the parting words he desperately wanted to say, with a frown, he held up his finger and then gestured toward Finwion.

"Be safe?" The elf grinned.

Relaxing, Kwes finished the thought by pointing to his head.

"And if I can't be, be cunning?" The elven god laughed and gave him a shove as Kwes made a gesture trying to explain what Syreilla had said. "I'm the god of 'fucking cunning' as she puts it but I appreciate the good wishes. Try to remember that I have a reputation to keep as well, little magpie? I won't embarrass you, try to do the same for me."

Kwes tucked the bird into the neck of his tunic and scurried up the angled shaft. The sun was setting. There was a crack a little further down in the natural stone that would make things easy enough for an elf and he made his way down. Keeping low and trying to wish himself unseen, he made for the Garden of Twilight.

It was encircled by soldiers. He crawled toward the line, keeping to the shadows and tall grass as much as possible before stopping feet away from it. One of the soldiers seemed to be staring directly at where he was with a confused frown.

Itia flew out of the neck of his tunic and burst into song. I can distract them. They're all terrified of birds!

All eyes followed the little brown sparrow and weapons rose, several loosed arrows at her. Taking advantage of the distraction, he crossed over and made his way to the first stone spire he could reach, going up it as quickly as possible.

Once on top, Kwes caught his breath and looked around. The Garden was a forest of stone spires and deeper in there were trees. He could see them on the ground and growing from cracks in the stone. There would be parts of this Garden that never felt the sun even at midday.

Some of them were close enough to jump from one to another but others like the one he was on... He blinked as a hazy net of smoke began to form from the top of his spire to the one closest. Looking around he saw Syreilla peering around a tree some distance away. She gestured at him to come.

A net made out of smoke bridged the gap and she wanted him to run across it. He took a breath, wondering how angry she really was with Finwion. Shaking the thought out of his head, he bolted out across it. It gave beneath his feet but it gave like weak rope and not like smoke. It held enough for him to make it to the other side. From there he was able to leap and scramble to where Syreilla waited.

"I was starting to think you'd decided the job was too much trouble." She gave him a mischievous grin.

He blinked and then gestured to his eyes.

"Yes, I can tell. I can see more than most expect with my good eye." Her smile faded slightly, "You lent him your voice?"

Kwes nodded.

"I understand why but that's an impressive show of trust, little brother."

Giving her a shrug and a smile he watched her face. Something sad was lurking behind her eyes. He tried to ask with a gesture but she waved her hand.

"Focus on the work. We have a job to do. I can show you the place I feel the power coming from. You should be able to touch all of the stones but one, the red one that looks like it's glowering. Take all of them but don't touch that one. It will hurt you." She stripped off her thin jacket and work shirt, both badly torn at the shoulder. "Trade with me. You'll need pockets."

He wasn't sure if the tunic was an illusion or not until he pulled it off and it remained as it was. She took it and he put the ragged work clothes on. They didn't fit right but they would do in a pinch. All of her pockets were empty. Peeking down the front of the shirt he realized she had a sizable pocket sewn there and he gave her a grin.

"Grandfather's stone will fit there. I've done it before."

He nodded.

"I had Olthon scout things out for me a little before I sent him to wait with Belthamdir and between what he saw and what he's been told since he's gone to sit with her I think we have a good idea of what's waiting.

"Grandfather tried to make the chamber his stone is in secure. You can't be a god, you can't have a talent for magic, you can't have ill intent, and you need to be pure of heart. She couldn't put guards in there, the place made them too nervous, but-"

At the reminder of the obstacles, he winced and tried to gesture his concerns.

Syreilla grinned and shook her head. "You weren't born with your own magic, you've been allowed to borrow other peoples when you've needed it, and you haven't grown into godhood enough to grasp your own fully. That one won't be a problem.

"You have no ill intent toward our grandfather, that won't be any trouble for you either. As for having a pure heart... Think of why you're there, who you want to help and why you want to do this job. I can see, Magpie, it isn't out of hate, it's out of love. Hold that thought firmly in mind as you walk through the chamber and you should be permitted to pass."

Considering her words for a moment he nodded slowly. He was doing this for his family. Kwes wasn't as certain as his sister that his heart was pure, but his love for his daughter, for his wife and his father... for his sister, and the rest of his divine family as well, that love was pure. He hoped it would be enough.

She led the way to the center of the garden. Itia joined them and landed on his shoulder. It was odd but he felt more at ease knowing the bird would be there with him.

"Itia can only go so far." Syreilla managed to quash the feeling with a few words.

Kwes gave her his best heartbroken look and she grinned.

"If I could I'd let her go with you, but much as she's been redeeming herself-"

I understand. Itia sounded resigned. But I'll do what I can.

A thought occurred to him, in gestures he tried to ask how the huntress managed to get inside.

Syreilla smiled ruefully, "She didn't go in herself, she commanded an innocent to put them where she wanted them. You interrupted me before I could tell you, he's still inside."

He gave a curt nod and dropped to the ground. The stone steps leading to the entrance weren't far and he headed toward them holding his purpose in mind. There was no door on the entrance; it was a ragged natural crack in the stone sheltered by trees. As he stepped inside he noticed peculiar carvings on the floor and walls.

You really have no talent for magic? But you're still able to become a god? Itia seemed baffled. Mother said Ezphine could never really be a god because she had no magic.

Kwes shook his head. It was clear, to him at least, that either the huntress had lied or was wrong.

To his surprise, a shape stepped from around a corner in front of him. The man was enormous and his brow furrowed as he looked at them with a frown. Out of habit, Kwes groped for a sword that was no longer hanging from his hip. The thought struck him the same time Itia sang out.

She said he was an innocent.

The massive man's eyes riveted on Itia and lit with delight. Kwes relaxed and beckoned to the behemoth. If he wanted to play with the bird he could. Itia was nice, a good bird.

Coming closer, the man held out his hand and Itia flew over, singing to Kwes, Go. Get what she sent you for. I'll wait here.

He slipped past the man as Itia continued to sing. You don't seem like a bad man. My mother probably hasn't been nice to you. I'll feel bad if we leave you here. You should come with us when we go. She'll be very angry and I don't want to be the reason anyone else suffers.

Up the stairs the man had been sitting on, was a chamber with more carvings along the walls and floor. Another flight of stairs took him to a third carved chamber, he passed through holding thoughts of his family firmly in mind to the room beyond it. In the middle of this last chamber stood a pedestal on which sat a glowering red gem. It was easy to see which of the other gems in snaking steel fittings should have held that position. Leaving it there felt wrong but Syreilla had warned him not to touch it.

Stripping the others from their fittings and slipping them into pockets he removed the largest one last. Glancing around, there was nothing on the walls that would allow him to move the red stone without touching it. Without a voice, he couldn't ask for help. Mouthing annoyed curses he stripped off the soft, old-fashioned half-boots he was wearing. Gods only knew what they were made of but it wasn't leather.

Putting the fat spire of clear stone under his chin and holding it in place, he swept the red stone from the pedestal with one shoe and caught it in the other. Clutching both shoes in one hand, he placed the spire back in its proper position.

Ahevhethrah's low laugh filled the room. "My grandchildren fill me with such pride. Go. Upwards, not down."

The back of the room held a door he would have sworn wasn't there a moment before and he hurried for it. Slipping through there were rough-hewn stairs split in the middle that led up the narrow crack between the two spires. The crack was shrouded by the trees growing out of the stone on the other side. Kwes bolted up them barefooted and found Syreilla grinning at the top. He thrust the boots at her and she inclined her head as she took them.

"You do good work, Magpie." She turned her face away, resting her other hand on his shoulder. "Silfeya, Eludora, Mabor, Odos, Imos, Zyulla, and Cyran if you want your stones back come here and get them. Ask Ezphine and my dragons if they would be so kind as to join you."

Turning back, she grinned. "Get ready for it. Valim is waiting for you when you're done."

Kwes watched in bafflement as she darted away holding the shoes.

*Seventy-three*

Cyran heard Syreilla's summons like a wave of music and felt a moment of giddiness.

"Ezphine? Syreilla has stolen our stones back and she wants you to come, she asked for her dragons as well."

"Should you tell the others?" Ezphine stopped her assessment of the cold dwarven forges with a smile.

"She summoned all of us, speaking over our stones."

"I'll get the dragons and join you."

Inclining his head gratefully, Cyran offered her some advice, "Think of me and intend to open the door where I am and you won't need to see the place to open your door."

He opened his own door, intending to be near his stone, and stepped through onto a high stone spire teeming with the other gods. Kwes was grinning, but he looked strange, as if Finwion were imposed over him somehow.

Mabor kissed the half-elf on the head. "You have my thanks, Finwion. Clever boy, indeed!"

Kwes grinned, widening the already large eyes he was wearing and arching a brow suggestively. It almost looked as if he were flirting with Mabor. The god of wine broke into laughter and kissed his head again.

Imos stepped forward and took three of the offered stones, two of which were nearly identical, "I will deliver my brother's to him as he once delivered mine. He is occupied with his fledglings and those who were entrusted to his care, he cannot yet step away."

Cyran approached and took his stone from his father, feeling relief wash over him. "I will not make the same mistake again, Father. I promise you."

"Let your cousin help design a place for it."

"They can do that after this is finished." Silfeya held her stone in her hand and her lips twisted in a disturbing expression. "I want Isca brought before us. She should kneel before every one of us, not just Ahevhethrah."

"Agreed." Mabor's smile was unnaturally cold.

"Her power is not yet wholly broken." Ahevhethrah held up his hand. "Wait and allow my Golden Rook to finish her work. We will array ourselves to show our support and enjoy the spectacle." Something about his draconic smile and the flames flickering in the eyes of the King of the gods told Cyran that whatever Syreilla had planned was going to be particularly vicious.