Surfacing Ch. 10

"You did, which speaks well for Brom," I granted, also recognizing the shift in topic for what it was: a distraction. Still, I could choose to let it remain so as I had a very good hint that Mathias's drive to stay was in no way stronger than his sense of self-preservation.

It only remained to be seen if Brom's compulsion was stronger.

"I have never witnessed him so interested in a woman before," Mathias said.

"Well. Six years of irregular visits is not a lot of time to observe," I said.

He chuckled. "Ah, but no fear of you. Not like when we saw you for the first time."

"Yes. He recognized my race, of course."

"Quite the privileged sorcerer."

"Ambition does draw attention for benefit or detriment. You discovered that."

"It seems our fortune leans toward the benefit from such attention."

Gavin muttered, "Often the case for the wealthy."

"What?"

The apprentice shrugged and did not repeat himself, although I could guess where his mind was at: someone without wealth or status would draw the wealthy, powerful rivals by displaying the same ambition and rising to be a threat. Between the two, the one with more resources often won. I did not see anything odd in it; someone had to build the wealth in the first place, so they earned it... and then they had to keep it as the concentration of resources drew the coveting of others. I also did not see anything wrong with the wealthy being torn down if they could not keep what they had; it only meant the cycle would start over again.

However, I was probably born more to fortune like Mathias and Brom, and the only thing about my upbringing that was like Gavin was only due to my predatory older sister and my lack of any voice on that subject for decades.

Under natural circumstances, I would have fought hard to keep the life with which I was familiar...but then, the Sisterhood had required that I fight to earn a different life altogether, or die trying. I would not keep my birth status regardless. It wasn't beyond possibility that Cris-ri-phon had discovered the same when he knew Innathi's attention...or could it have been intentional pursuit on his part?

Fickle fortune, overall. It changed quickly, and those who did not want to believe it could happen to them were the most likely to be caught off guard when it did.

My stomach growled again, and I sighed, as it seemed I had just eaten. Mathias chuckled, and we agreed to stop and thoroughly check over the supplies that had been entrusted to our saddlebags and those of the undead men. We agreed it was better to know in advance what was there before we caught up to the Ma'ab and Rithal.

Most of it was mundane but very useful; most of the weight was food that would keep a fortnight or more and swollen waterskins, although some basic medicine kits were in Gavin's bags, and in addition the dead men horses carried a selection of smaller forged tools and a few larger ones like a hatchet, plus bits of one-size spares like gloves—a pair of which Gavin put on to hide his Sun-sensitive hands from sight—socks, face masks, cloths for wrapping and cleaning, even an water-repelling lean-to, and an extra cloak and blanket.

I did not truly know what to make of such abundance, except that it carried the unspoken message: "Survive and maintain strength." I would...although given how many horses were required to carry all this, I knew I could shed it all very quickly if I had to. Holding on to such materials if it only slowed me down would not help my survival, and my earlier thought about concentrated resources drawing focus and competition still applied.

I'd been trained to do better when the situation demanded it.

As we mounted back to up eat in the saddle, Mathias asked just what was expected of him when we met the cult.

"Stay behind Kurn and the undead and let the magic users dismantle them," I said.

He quirked a brow. "My arrows?"

"Save them. They will do small harm unless enchanted."

"So basically just be an extra pair of eyes."

I nodded.

"In what way are the others magic users, besides the obvious mages?" Mathias asked. "I know I was to carry your sapphire because Rithal said I was the only one who did not use magic."

I looked at Gavin, who had been listening this time around. He cleared his throat.

"Kurn's sword is enchanted, as is Rithal's axe." He looked at me, and I shrugged. "And Sirana's daggers."

I did not smile, only nodded, but I wanted to in realizing Gavin had not been specific about which dagger. Soul Drinker would, according to Cris, likely fell a chaos cannibal in one blow, no matter where it struck as long as it was deep enough. All it had to do was disrupt the cobbled will of the creature, and that was one of the relic's primary purposes.

"Well, I feel rather useless." Mathias grinned in what I thought was irony.

"You were not intended for this task. It is what Kurn owes me for his stupidity," I said.

Mathias tilted his head, and I realized that he had been outside of the loop while he'd been tending to Jacob; no one had brought him up to speed beyond what Kurn had said in the great room as the Sky had been lightening.

"He attacked me again, this time with Amelda's help. Brom granted me a boon as an apology for his daughter's behavior."

The skin hunter contemplated that and chuckled. "Again. So, then...what happened at the canyon?"

I smirked. "Had I known your preference, Mathias, I'd have been tempted to let you do the honors. As it was, he has thrown away his tainted boot dagger."

The Man's expression was one of astonished delight. "How in this world did you overcome his strength to manage that?"

I turned my hooded head to look directly at him. "I have been told Drow do not play fair once you corner them."

Mathias's grin broadened even more as the images in his mind seemed to please him very much, then he tilted his head back and laughed. Gavin just shook his head and muttered his appreciation for not providing more detail than that.

"So on Lord Brom's , he tried for vengeance again and failed, again."

"The first time was not vengeance."

"Yes, it was. Vengeance against someone else who is not here. You were the proxy. Although now I would suppose it is quite personal."

"He made it so."

"I do not disagree. He may still try to take the opportunity to see you killed in this task."

I nodded. "Which is why you are not useless."

The skin hunter's chest expanded as his back straightened and he nodded his understanding. After some silent time traveling, however, the first signs of fatigue became to show themselves in our interrogator.

"I will take your watch tonight," I said, knowing that I would not need the time to hunt for food as I had been—food was already provided. "You still have not slept."

"You noticed," he commented, his grin not quite as high at the edges, and the pupils of his eyes seemed to be responding more slowly to the changes in light. He looked as though he had already contemplated that complication, and nodded. "I watch you, and you watch me?"

I nodded. "Let your rest fully rejuvenate you."

"Then I thank you, my Lady," he bowed with a wry smile. "I will need it to better watch over you."

We would see. There would be times where he would not be able to watch me.

We were table to travel far that first day with fair weather. The light periods where the horses could safely walk, even in a pit-filled road, had become longer, even since leaving Sarilis's Tower. Certainly the days were much longer than when I'd first reached the Surface.

Just as Shyntre had said they would.

We caught up to Kurn, Castis, and Rithal where they had chosen to stay for the night: beneath a rocky overhang on high ground, barely flat enough to keep the living and their horses. The undead would have to wait at the base of the hill, guarding the supplies and whickering mounts in two separate clusters.

"They do not sleep at all," Gavin said. "They could do the entire watch."

"NO."

Somehow, Kurn, Castis, and Rithal had managed to say that in the same instant.

Gavin was also forbidden from touching the food, as was I; Rithal did the cooking now. The necromancer shrugged at both decisions and returned to thumbing through a book; he had actually brought a few along, but I hadn't realized it as he'd been kept far too busy until now to leisurely read by campfire light.

"So I suppose you will find your own place to sleep again, whore?" Kurn rumbled, staring at me with black, hateful eyes in a stone face.

I smiled without showing teeth. "Am I unwelcome?"

"Best find another place to stay until sunrise if you value breathing. I don't want to listen to your slut's mouth, or—"

"Or you'll be tempted to fill it?" I chuckled when he blinked. "You already said something of that nature before. It is repetitive."

He scowled deeper, his now different voice grating. "And I imagine the innkeeper has already plugged you up to keep you quiet. I bet he gagged you with it *after* sodomizing you, and you loved it, lu'shatten cus."

"Kurn," Rithal spoke up with a boom to his voice and an incredibly deep frown. "No more. The elf will not sleep here tonight, and ye'll not poison the air with yer bitter insults. I don' want the listen to it."

I myself noticed my body heating up and preparing for a fight, though I already knew engaging in any talk whatsoever would only encourage this vein. It felt as if I should not accept this in silence and merely walk away, especially from a male, and yet...it would simply have to be the time to break or kill him if I accepted the challenge.

The reason was because I already knew there would never be a change in mind for him. He would be broken, or he would be dead. But he would not be different otherwise. I imagined that, in this state, he would take quite a bit of his anger out on the Warpstone cult, and it would make him valuable for something, if even only for a moment.

Mathias had been subdued enough through the evening—and keeping a bit of distance from me—to observe that Kurn and Castis, and even Rithal, did not truly know of his shift in alliance. He still seemed "group neutral" to them. And he needed the rest.

Gavin had assured me while unpacking his mare that he would be fine remaining nearby as well, that the others would regret trying to disturb him, and he would not need to sleep as long either.

It was just me who was to leave, or fight.

"I will go elsewhere for the night, Rithal," I said.

Kurn snorted and muttered, "coward," beneath his breath before speaking up, "And take your eunuch servant with you."

Gavin's skin did not change color in firelight, so he looked as he had at the inn with no change beyond what had already startled the others. He lifted his head from his book, contemplated the Ma'ab a moment then put it down to retrieve his small eating knife from his belt. The Hellhound looked baffled as to his actions, though Castis's hands were already curling in preparation of some magical defense.

"Truly a brilliant plan as always, but I shall be staying here," he said, rolling back his sleeve to expose his pale arm. "I will also be taking Sirana and Mathias's watches. There shall be no trouble in this unless it is by one of you."

"What are you doing?" Castis demanded.

"No magic," Rithal pointed a stubby finger at him.

"I'm not intoning a spell," Gavin said, "simply a... demonstration."

He pressed the knife into his skin and cut to draw blood, and the same thick, black substance I'd seen before welled up. He seemed to feel some sensation, some pain in what he was doing, but he endured it without comment, audible or otherwise. Setting down the knife, he collected some of his blood onto the fingers of his other hand and flicked it onto the remains of the medium-sized, brown-furred quadruped that Kurn had managed to kill for the evening stew.

Blackness spattered the wasted hide and bones and inedible pieces and seemed to seep in until it was out of sight; the fire put out less heat for a moment. For a brief time nothing happened, but then the remains quickly cobbled together to form a tottering, undead version of what we'd eaten, a skeleton dressed in fur. The eyes were still present in a mostly-intact head with long buckteeth in front and round ears, and they had been black originally; I saw no animal intelligence but something not unlike the Abyssal creatures.

There was hunger in those eyes as it shakily began to scuttle toward us and I felt my body tense up and I reached to draw, ready to cut it down before I'd consciously willed it. I was not the only one. Gavin made a brief gesture and word and the undead rodent froze.

"Something else that will warn us of uninvited guests," Gavin said flatly. "Now, the effects of this on living flesh are somewhat more ...unpleasant. About as binding, though, if I wish it. Akin to having plague spit in your eyes, I should think."

Gavin drew a finger across his arm where he drew blood, wiping away the excess and revealing completely unmarred flesh beneath; the cut had already closed up. He had definitely frightened the others; even Mathias was alert and nervous, as before he was so tired and lethargic he had slumped on his log.

It was a similar feeling for me, to be honest—I could tell looking around that no one here understood exactly how to combat powers like Gavin's, and the only weakness that I knew was silver, yet I had tossed such a dagger away and it had been left at Brom's inn. We weren't even sure he could be killed without simply "healing"—although somehow that description did not seem to fit—and standing back up with the blessing of his mistress, as he had before.

I was more pleased—and relieved—than I'd ever been to have maintained my allied bond with him and defended him where possible. I could also count myself fortunate that the Grey Maiden seemed to approve of his agreement with me, as far as I knew, and I would have to consider very carefully before I might think to decline assisting him in taking over Sarilis's Tower.

Not that I intended to back out of that part of our deal at all...it was only that my pregnancy limited my time and ability to help. Unfortunate as that fact was, it was still as true as the fact that I would not take D'Shea's potion preemptively; only if it was a surety that both of us would die otherwise. Gavin was aware of this; he was as practical as I was to a large extent.

And also as unwelcome at this fire.

"You cannot make him leave, and wounding him is a poor idea," I repeated, having no doubt that Kurn needed it said. "That is all he is says. I will leave, and Gavin will stay. Leave it at that and nothing more will happen this night."

"Deal," Rithal said immediately with another hard look at Kurn, who just mouthed a Ma'ab slur while glancing at me, and a glimpse of disgust at Gavin.

Castis was staring at the undead rodent, which had not moved or made any sound since Gavin willed it. "Does that need to stay so close? Or stare at us?"

One corner of Gavin's mouth twitched. "Necromancy is not unknown among the Ma'ab, Castis. I am surprised you are uncomfortable."

"Yours is..." the other mage began to say, then he closed his mouth.

"His is what?" I asked.

The Ma'ab shook his head and Kurn nodded approval at Castis's lately-considered discretion.

"It is different?" I pushed. "How can you tell?"

"He likely means Sarilis bleeds red and it is not quite as dangerous to make contact with his flesh," Gavin said. "Implying their necromancers are the same."

The Hellhound frowned so deeply that I thought his face would collapse under the pressure. "Those of noble blood, perhaps. The slum are more secretive and ugly. Guess we now know where your cursed blood came from, eunuch."

Gavin had already gone back to reading his book, seemingly unaffected by the barb; as well he should, I thought. Cris's earlier comment returned to me, about Sarilis now having significant competition in the young apprentice through "hard-won experience" and Gavin's having bought a significant increase in lifespan from his true mistress.

Favored by a Greylord with a surety some might only wish for in their god, and serving her faithfully out of pure desire for what he could learn from her. Indeed, what weight had Kurn's comment that his mother might have been a "slum" necromancer among the Ma'ab? Someone more powerful clearly disagreed.

To me, Kurn was missing something even more extraordinary. It was an intriguing thought on its own that a practicing necromancer might have been able to conceive a living child at all, and by a Manalara monk, no less. That had to have taken true effort on the part of someone.

Cris-ri-phon would not be the only party interested in watching Gavin over the next few decades.

The set up for the night was good enough for me; Gavin and Mathias would be fine and talk had grown very stilted and resentful. I soon collected my things and made to go farther into the hilly forest for the night.

******

I rested in reverie deeply and longer than typical, for once undisturbed by red Suns or scorpions or desertscape...though familiar faces remained an I woke still so aroused and missing my Drow males acutely. The lingering imagery of Shyntre and Auslan in the garden at House Itlaun lay in my mind, from when I'd been spying on them what seemed so long ago now.

The wizard had planted both hands on Auslan's chest and shoved him backward, just as he had in my recollection of actual events. But in this reverie, the Consort stumbled and failed to catch himself, landing on the ground on his back.

Instead of using magic or otherwise taking advantage of the higher ground, Shyntre stopped himself to watch him. Auslan did not get up; he waited for whatever happened next, his mostly-nude body curled into defense though he made eye contact with his angry brother above him. Shyntre paused and took a step back, yielding ground when he had no reason to do so. It was also clear that Auslan did not mean to stand up and retaliate any time soon.

Instead, I watched as the wizard removed his robe and joined Auslan on the garden's mossy ground, using it to cover both of them as they scooted very close to each other, as if they were cold and desperately needed to share heat to survive the next few marks of the candle.

At first I felt disappointed that the two would not accept the challenge and the insult; that they would not start an earnest fight, a struggle for dominance that I could watch for entertainment. I wanted to feel contempt at their weakness, to shake my head, to think that this was why males always lost to females in our City; they could have the emotional outburst but not the guts to follow through to the end. I'd always known I would win eventually, whenever any male had pushed back...

But wait, that wasn't true anymore, was it? My reverie dimmed very slowly, and I felt more light-headed, until even the garden faded from my dark vision. It felt the same as when I'd lost my vision slowly from blood loss, on the ground, on my back, and not even able to curl into a defense as Auslan had.

I'd seen in my mind some of what the demonblood had been visualizing intently as he used me with his barbed cock. Runes. Chaotic images of infinite levels, and of wings to take one there; of blackness and of blood and unending struggle, well beyond what I'd considered ongoing power struggles within the City. Kerse had said his own name, and another name, over and over again. Reaching out.

Someone had answered, and the other had been so pleased at what his spawn was doing to me. My insides had been shredded, I knew, though by some mercy I had gone numb from the waist down by the time the Draelogth had stood up.

By the time I'd heard the other voices, the ones not from the Abyss.