Surfacing Ch. 03

If it *was* needed a second time, I wouldn't be using my last anti-venom on someone who was too stupid to cooperate after surviving such lethal poison the first time.

The blonde elf's features were strange to me—still recognizable as an elf, still possessing the pointed ears and large eyes and attractive, symmetrical features, but they seemed both more angular and more delicate. I had been wrong about her being of a height to me; another trick of the light, and of her clothes, I realized. Even beneath the webbing I could tell she was notably taller and easily had a longer stride with those legs of hers, yet she wore loose-fitting, practical clothes that only hinted at her curves.

I saw tears start to drip from her eyes and roll across her temple and into her hair as she finally settled her gaze on me, as she watched me watching her.

Was she crying?

I smiled, which did not seem to calm her, as I reached for the first of the wellness pellets that Rausery had given me on Shyntre's behalf. I placed the small, brown thing beneath my tongue and allowed the bitter thing to slowly dissolve as I retrieved my dagger from the ground and checked myself over.

If these pellets did what Rausery claimed, then I was grateful to Shyntre. I had no fewer than ten puncture wounds that needed cleaning; I would need all the help I could get against infection. Perhaps it was lucky that none of those thorns had been poison-tipped, but if I did not have to use any of my stronger healing draughts, I would prefer not to. Not unless I somehow found a source for more...

...the elf's place, maybe?

"We go to your dwelling," I said in Common. "It is bright out here."

She barely shook her head and started trembling as she tried and failed miserably to sit up. She was still far too weak. "N-no...no, just k-kill me... if you intend to play with m-me...."

"I must clean my wounds," I told her directly as the bleeding holes in my arms and thigh and around my neck begin to throb. "Your thorns went deep."

"Y-you deserve it," she replied with trembling chin. "Evil D-Drow."

I sighed. I'd heard this word because Rausery and Shyntre had, but still I did not understand it. The closest understanding I possessed was that it described one who used one's strength to overpower or enslave those weaker or without resources, because one can, whether they need it to survive or not. I supposed in her current position, the elf could think I'd done exactly that—so was the evil one whoever won the fight?—but if intent counted for anything...

"I bargained for water, elf. Nothing more."

"You l-lie," she repeated stubbornly.

"Because I am 'evil'?"

"Y-yes."

I wanted to sneer. "Stupid and unbending are greater sins to me, elf."

The struggling falcon inside its webs finally drew my attention; its caws and screeches had been so constant since I'd ensnared it that I'd almost forgotten about it. I stepped over to pick it up by the tail; it really hated that. I was grateful the talons and beak were still stuck together, judging from the way it tried to get at me. Quite the determined little guardian. Wasn't that familiar?

"Oh, g-goddess, please, don't h-hurt her," the elf whined, managing to roll herself over in a surge of panic.

"Ah, you are a little better," I grinned, still holding the bird trapped in my webbing. "We go to your dwelling and clean wounds?"

She nodded in temporary defeat, and it was interesting to see the hatred on her face. It was so familiar, even in a pale, exotic face. I'd certainly seen the expression many times in my life.

We were not so different, perhaps. Had she won, she would be "evil."

*****

I had retrieved my pack first. Even wounded and of a definite shorter stature, I could support the web-touched elf by holding one of her upper arms. She needed the help; she was very disoriented, unsteady on her own feet. Sweat poured down her face as she trembled, and I could sense the weakness in her body as it struggled to recover from what the venom had done to her internal organs. We walked slowly as I lightly swung the protesting bundle of feathers back and forth in my other grip.

Believe it or not, I looked forward to talking with her.

We eventually made it to her dwelling, which was a shelter constructed of rock, soil, wood, and grasses; not only was it well camouflaged but it also seemed quite sturdy. It was blessedly dim inside with the windows covered by mats of tightly-woven grasses.

The elf had admitted that she had a store of clean water inside as well, and I let her lay down on her grass pallet only after checking for hidden weapons and finding a second flint dagger there. I took it and set her bird down on the soft, earthen floor where it continued to struggle, and I scoured the place for more surprises and useful items. I found a few more weapons, all of less refined origin rather like the bow and flint knives: a staff, a well-balanced club, several ingenious pricker-balls that she probably should have had with her during our fight....

I set them all outside, more within my reach than hers, although my own various blades of forged metal and obsidian, my hand crossbow and stout little bolts with their poisoned tips, never mind all the powders and pellets and other resources at my belt....all these were certainly the superior offensive and defensive selection.

I also found the clean water and soft cloths that I could use for tending and bandaging. The elf did the smart thing and conserved her strength as I removed my cloak, gloves, bracers, and belt, setting them on the work table, and finally stripped off my black leather armor from my torso, noting with some satisfaction that there were no holes in it. The holes from the thorns were all in my cloak, shirt, pants, and skin. All which needed to be mended.

The Surface elf emitted a soft moan of dread when I stripped off my shirt and I looked over at her, already dipping clean cloth in water to put on the back of my scored neck.

"What?" I asked. "You are proud of the damage, are you not?"

She said nothing, turning her gaze to the ceiling and again conserving her energy. I noticed she was slightly shifted to favor her left buttock, the one with the glass still in it. I would see if she understood later that it needed to come back out... and that she likely needed assistance to do it. But for now I just mentally shrugged and dabbed a topical oil from my pouches over each thorn hole in my arms before bandaging them, then did the same for my neck, wrapping it like a comfortable scarf before I could don Shyntre's sapphire again.

I was going to be really sore after my next reverie. Depending on how things went with my captive, I might stay here another day or two.

I took the time to lightly clean and sew up the holes in my shirt and cloak while sitting shirtless at the work bench. I had a spare shirt in my pack but it was not time to pull it out yet; I was comfortable enough with the temperature in this shelter.

"You live alone," I said as I worked.

"Why so sure?" she asked, her chin stiffening.

"Nothing here implies another. You have also not looked outside. Not even a flicker. You watch me or watch the ceiling."

"That means nothing."

"Have you trained to be captive?" I asked curiously. I knew the tricks on how to mask truth in my reactions under duress, thanks to the Sisterhood training me.

"What?" She sounded confused and...disgusted? Astonished? Definitely truthful. "No training? Have you been captive before?"

I saw her stomach tremble and heard another stifled sob. She was truly afraid of what I would do. Was that a yes?

I kept watching for longer, highly aware of the rustling of the bird and her suppressed weeping, both of which would soon become irritating, I knew, and hurried to finish my sewing so I could put my shirt back on. Once I'd done that, I replaced everything else but my cloak and gloves.

I next removed my boots and then my leather pants—and that was when the blonde elf made a clear sound of denial. I stopped to stare at her again, and she was staring at me, wide-eyed at first, though next she seemed confused. She was looking at my crotch...and she was perplexed by something.

Several things fell into place.

"What? Is it missing?" I half-smiled, straightening to let her see my white-furred and clearly female sex.

She looked down then up to my face then, giving me a very ugly look. I felt my stomach contract in excitement. She had been expecting something else.

A phallus, perhaps.

It couldn't be, could it? Jaunda's trespasser...the blonde elf leading the group of Humans? The only survivor of an attack because my Lead willed that she would have a chance, however small, to return.

Then again, why would it not be her? She lived alone on a ley line four days' travel from our portal to the Underdark...was she a scout? A watcher?

I kept quiet and focused on cleaning my thigh wounds and repairing my pants before saying anything else while the elf tortured herself in silence with my presence. I doubted I would get much useful information sitting half-naked, so in good time I was soon put together again completely, everything righted to a point that would have made Rausery proud.

"You trespassed into the Underdark recently," I said.

"You trespass into the Silverin," she ground out.

"Why were you down there?"

"You did not care to ask m-...more than a year ago."

"I was not there, or I would ask."

"Too late," she spat bitterly.

I drew one of my daggers and prodded gently at her bird still flopping on the ground.

"Webs will wear off by tomorrow," I exaggerated a bit. "Do birds require water as well? Will it parch by then?"

Her big, green eyes filled completely with tears and soon wetted her cheeks. "Lutani...I was l-looking for...the genetha myocete to cure a sickness. I failed, and the one I wished to save died. It is too late, so...leave me be. Do not remind me."

I considered that. I partially recognized the name...we called it "jynitha mytocee." And the elf was right, it was very useful. It had been among the primary spell components used to strengthen my overall health and resistance to disease in the Underdark. I even had some in powdered form on my belt; it had multiple uses, some as an ingredient mixing into different poisons but also as an antibiotic.

"Lutani, is that a healer?" I asked. "Is that what you are?"

She let out a guffaw and shook her head. "Lutani jesi'il drow."

Ah. I got it.

"If insults are the only remains of your will, you use the ones I do not understand. So effective, yes?"

She did not reply or look at me, returning to her dull stare at the ceiling. I stood up to the open door, judging the time of day to be heading into late afternoon. Fortunately the Sun would not penetrate the camouflage fully, no matter which location it took in the Sky. It would remain dim. I liked this place, present company included.

I rummaged around for something to eat when my stomach grumbled and I found plenty of seeds, roots, and preserved, crunchy, toasted insects, likely from the previous season. Another thing we had in common—the things we searched for to eat on the run.

"You cannot eat yet," I said with a glance in her direction.

Any poison tended to steal the appetite for hours at least. Indeed she seemed to turn almost green with the thought.

"But I must eat. You will share?"

She glared at me. "Do not pretend hospitality. Take what you will. It is your nature."

I tilted my head a bit. "Any creature learns to take to live, elf."

"And I learned to give, Drow."

"And this is superior, to be taken from and pretend you willed it?"

She shook her head. "Stop talking...please...stop. Do what you will."

I watched her curiously as I ate. She gave up so easily after challenging me outright to debate. It was disappointing. "You have not asked me one question, elf. Ask. I feel generous."

She shook her head. "I do not care anything...to know more than I do."

"Foolish," I commented. "You roll and sag like a pig in a mud sink."

Those green eyes, slightly less bloodshot now, shot to stare at me again. She looked very insulted, and I was glad. She was more interesting when she had an actual expression.

"You impressed with your spell, the thorned vine," I said. "Vicious manner of torture."

She looked distressed at that. "I was desperate. I could not see."

I paused, tilting my head. "Excuses? Why?"

"I am not like you. I only defended."

"As did I," I said. "I tried to bargain. You shot first."

"You moved first!"

"You yelled first. And sent your bird. I was in retreat."

"You were not."

"How would you know in the dark?" I asked. "I changed direction because your arrow near struck me." Not quite true, but it fascinated me that she was arguing against her own actions. "I knew you would shoot again."

"You are Drow. I am Silven. You would not retreat from a conflict between us."

"I did not know you were 'Silven.' I thought you were Human," I said, plainly truthful.

She laughed outright. "You did not know!" She tried to spit at me but only managed to get some on her own chin.

"I did not know," I repeated. "I cannot see very far in light."

The blonde quieted bit as this thought seemed surprisingly reasonable to her, though she was still hesitant to believe it; I could sense the first touch of uncertainty.

She said, "You followed a ley line to find me."

"I attempt to follow a ley line to find another," I said flatly. "I am not that good."

"You lie! You know who I am!" she cried in frustration.

"Just from talk. You match a description. You expect something when I removed my leathers, but you did not find it," I answered. "I was not sent to kill you."

"Even if not sent, the opportunity is there. Why not?"

Why not, indeed?

As I considered that, the elf's lovely face twisted again.

"You must kill me. I will tell others. They will hunt you."

I sighed. Yes, that was certainly a good reason. I could not argue with that, though it had been her idea. I let the relative quiet—but for the rustling bird—settle for a while. She had been the aggressor between us, and I would have talked had she given the chance...but... I also knew what had happened to her at the hands of my Sisters, and really, her actions were smart for being confronted at her own dwelling. I would have done the same. Defend with lethal force; do not hesitate. Her mistake was not making those thorns poisonous or at least tranquilizing.

Her reasoning was strange, though, her insistence that she knew what I would do before I did it and why—especially considering she was consistently wrong—but nonetheless her actions in and of themselves had been sensible in the context of what little I knew about her. By contrast, she knew not even one event in my life. She was blind in the hatred of her own trauma...rather as what I knew of many in the Underdark. Including myself, as a child.

Eventually the elf finally asked her question, her mouth pursed before and after, staring at the ceiling.

"Why are you in the Silverin?"

I considered telling the truth. If she expected me to kill her before she tells others—and I may very well have to—then speaking truth first might be the only way to get the same out of her. Unless her kind was even better at lying than we were.

Then again, she had assumed I was lying when I had not been. Certainly she couldn't tell one way or the other. If she could not discern lies due to her own bias and certainty, then she likely could not pass them by me very easily. The two skills went together. It would also make her choices more predictable.

I answered truthfully. "To kill someone."

"Of course," she murmured disdainfully. "Who, if not me?"

"A Necromancer."

Something extraordinary changed in her face then; she still possessed a sweaty, pale pallor, but her eyes seemed to glimmer as she turned her had to look at me again. "A Necromancer?"

"Called Sarilis," I offered. "Lives in a tower near here."

The elf licked her lips. "Or you wish to make a deal again. You think we do not know?"

"Know what?"

"Twenty years ago. You were allies."

I prevented the smile from reaching my face since I had learned that only made her think the worst of me. I nodded confirmation. "Allies against what?"

Her face was quickly becoming easy for me to read. She did not know the answer. I thought so. She likely had only heard this tale, just as I had. Neither of us had been there. So now I could assume she had not been living here for any more than two decades.

"It was against the Chaos element," I said. "Against the Cult of the Warpstone. You may thank us that they do not live outside your door this day."

She stared at me, and swallowed. "It was self-interest only, on both your parts."

I shrugged. "Yes. It benefits you still."

"The enemy of my enemy?" she asked with a sneer, and I stared at her. When she realized I did not understand, she finished, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Not always true."

"Friend," I repeated, stretching stiffened muscles and wincing at the pain of my wounds. "An ally?"

"More than an ally," she said with what I would call an arrogant smile. "Someone who will not betray you if made a better offer. Someone who cares if you live or die, even if it does not harm or benefit them otherwise. Someone who will help you without payment. Someone you trust. You cannot trust, so you have no friends. You are the poorer for it."

I quirked an eyebrow at her flushed face as she finished her speech. "Is this more of you saying you are not like me?"

She weakly flipped a hand. "You have no friends."

I thought about the qualifications. Someone who will help you without payment. True, I had not run into that much, unless it meant someone wanted to avoid punishment. Someone who cares if I lived or died even if... No, every life or death benefited someone. There was no escaping that.

Someone who would not betray if made a better offer...

I thought of Jael, then. I had betrayed Gaelan for a better status in stealing her Feldeu, but Jael, I had not. That illusion between us, the one that Jaunda had mentioned, was still in place; the belief that I was safe to the youngest Sister, not a rival, not an enemy, not loyal only because we both wore the uniform. She had helped me without payment; she caught up to Jaunda and the others to find me because....she "owed" me that. Because I had done the same. Because I wanted her to live. And she, me.

We had made our deal on the Surface, entwined in the cave just before she left. The only reason I could think was because we cared if the other lived or died. There was no benefit beyond simply continuing to live and meet up together, and to spite the queen in succeeding.

Could I call Jael a "friend" in the Common language, then? It seemed so. She met the description.

I smiled at the blonde elf. "I have one friend."

She scoffed. "You cannot. You do not understand friendship or love."

I wanted to ask what "love" was, but that would probably prove her point. Shrugging, I said, "So tell me of friendship and love. What am I without?"

"I cannot explain to someone like you, who gets such pleasure in killing and raping," she said, tears forming in her eyes as she again looked at me with such hatred, it would have suited Wilsira's expression in the audience chamber after we'd killed Kerse.

I did not reply because I could certainly remember a lot of pleasure in both those acts. So love and friendship were mutually exclusive from killing and raping? Or should I consider the source?

"You are without goodness, without empathy," she murmured in a voice both mournful and arrogant. "You can serve pain to others but cannot take it yourself."

Now I laughed, the shaking hurting my wounds but I didn't care. "Ah! But I can, and I do not get so...brooding afterward, as you are. Not for so long. I stand again. You were the only survivor of the underground group, yes?"