Surfacing Ch. 10

"And isn't that what Manalar has earned?"

The dwarf's beard bristled slightly as he pursed his lips—I thought so, it was hard to tell—but I could tell he was trying to accept that idea. He certainly liked the symbolism, and the desire for vengeance against the holy city was clear in his eyes.

"Messenger for whom?" Mathias muttered, rubbing his face that had gone flushed shortly after waking so abruptly. "A god?"

"It was his own black magic that brought him back," Castis growled. "Perhaps a talisman. And with a horrid cost, he's barely alive and now the Sun blackens him!"

"Ye burnin', Gavin?" Rithal asked. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it does not hurt," Gavin said blandly. "But now that I have your attention and you will not be distracted at an inopportune time, I might mention that Sarilis had dealings with this cult before and he kept records. I suggest we continue on and I will tell you more of what we might expect and what we will need to defeat the cult and their homestone."

Mathias smirked. "Yeah. Shame on us for never even asking, hm?"

Everyone was anxious enough and ready to break camp, and it was efficient enough for me. I had Gavin to thank for kicking us all in the backside this morning; it wasn't usually this bad, certainly not for me to become so engaged, but...perhaps he was right about the influence of these woods.

Gavin dismissed the furry undead he'd created last night, letting it collapse back into bones, fur, and gristle, and also passed back the black vial to me as he assisted me in saddling up my new grey. He nodded and spoke quietly.

"It is our best option. Don't just pour it over the homestone. How is your throwing arm?"

I smirked. "Fine. Understood."

And I understood more than just that; Gavin wasn't even bringing this up to Kurn and Rithal, because they were the other two with the black vials and there would be no way to convince them use theirs on the Warpstone instead of the Manalar pool. It would have to be mine, so why confuse them or tempt them to argue otherwise?

We rode in a group, and Gavin explained to them more of what he had to me about the effects on one's sense of balance—in about every sense—and how focused will in the form of magic or an enchanted item could protect them.

The obvious came up quickly: "What about Mathias?"

The skin hunter sighed ruefully, though still with a smirk to his lips. "Perhaps I should turn back? Or meet you elsewhere?"

It was a tempting thought for me, to get Brom's extra eyes off me, but somehow I did not think that Mathias truly meant what he said. There would be something else on the hunter's mind; he was far from stupid.

"I think Sirana should give him the ruby that she carries as well," Kurn said.

Somehow I liked it better when he called me something generic, like "demoness" or "whore." My name on his tongue sounded...almost too familiar. Too close.

"What ruby?"

Castis had asked the question, but the look that shot between them told me that the Ma'ab mage was well aware that Kurn had had a ruby and...why did I have it now?

"One she stole from the innkeeper's daughter, I bet, or received as a 'gift,' like that new dagger at her waist."

"What?!"

"I wondered when you would bring this up, Kurn," I mused. It had been in a slightly more clever way than I would have expected of him.

He snorted without looking directly at me, keeping his eyes forward and his stallion under tight control. "You haven't used it, witch. Give it to Mathias to protect him from the effects of chaos."

How surprisingly generous. Or not. Kurn no doubt thought Mathias would simply hand it back to him after we were finished with the cult; he wouldn't have to try to steal it back from me.

As I said, uncharacteristically clever.

"Will the ruby and sapphire clash?" the huntsman asked cautiously, and I could silently applaud him for his acting and his foresight.

"It should not, you won't be using the ruby," Castis said. "If I understand what Gavin has told us, its aura simply being magical will be enough to give you focus. And as I understand that blue stone," the mage glanced at me as if to dare I threaten him for studying my belongings, "it is only active when magic is active. Else, it is inert. Just keep your distance from me."

"I will try," Mathias said almost demurely, then looked at me.

I sighed and tugged out the ruby pendant, the will-bender, from my belt and the skin hunter moves his horse closer so that I could pass it to him.

"No more stubborn dissent?" Kurn sneered, though he looked pleased I'd done it.

"After watching Mathias's interrogation techniques," I said, "I do not want his skills lost to our group. He will give it back afterward."

"Of course," Mathias nodded, putting it plainly around his neck, and even I couldn't tell whether he was telling the truth or not.

Perhaps this was the point when we truly began to slide; everyone had something we believed would shield us from the pressure of encroaching entropy. Gavin had only said it would help, and while he seemed barely affected himself, I discovered myself listening more to Soul Drinker and considering when might be the right time to draw it. I was tempted every time Kurn made a comment, to me or anyone else; I did not like the sound of his "new" grating voice.

I was not the only one growing tense. It became once again better for the Hellhound to ride farther ahead with Castis and Rithal as myself, Gavin, and Mathias led the eight undead. The riding Witch Hunters, in some irony, seemed the most relaxed, almost at peace despite being corpses smelling at last like they were dead, yet still holding themselves upright.

On the whole, though, the horses were becoming less tolerant of carrying any of us, it seemed, living or dead. I could manage no more of my mount than a nervous walk weaving side to side, and the occasional unrequested trot, and I had to pay much more attention to steering the animal than I liked. Gavin's group was not staying as close together as they had, although they still seemed to prefer plodding in a herd to anything else.

Mathias was staring at the trees more often as well, the ruby glinting incongruently against his plain, if well-made, clothing. I had begun to wonder if he saw something I did not when he spoke.

"The trees are bending."

"What?"

"Just a bit. They're looking... warped. It makes no sense for them to grow some leaning uphill and some down along the same line, or some with cancerous bulges and crooks that seem like they might have grown in the last fortnight, as new wood without its bark..."

At the spooked tone of his voice, I took a broader view of the continual forest and the worsening road, trying to see what he said. It was so, I saw, but more subtle, not so obvious as one might think from his description.

I had to commend his woodsman's eye rather than doubt his sanity here; if not for the fact that forests were so new to me anyway and I had studied their patterns well in the last few months, if they were something I took as "always" in the background, then I might have doubted him as Gavin did. At least we knew we were closing on the approximate location Brom had given us.

How would night look or smell in a "warped" forest?

At one point much later in the afternoon, Mathias moved ahead to get away from the smell of the Witch Hunters and see if Kurn and the others were keeping to their word of staying within a minute-gallop's distance. I looked at Gavin, both of us with our hoods up against the angling Sun.

"Do you sense anything?" I asked, not for the first time that second day.

He shook his head once again. "Just the general influence of the Warpstone, the same as you."

"Shouldn't we go off the road once in a while to broaden your range?"

"You've already asked, and I still say it is not a good idea. If you want to explore the forest more, at least wait until we locate and destroy the cult. It will be infinitely safer to search for your sister then, and you may know by then whether she made any contact prior to our arrival."

I frowned. "Subtle."

Gavin shrugged. "It is a possibility, even likelihood, if she came this way by herself."

Was she by herself? I considered whether Gaelan might even now be with her own merc group on this hunt? Was she managing them, were they afraid of her, or were they hired hands only with a sense of mystery and adventure? Wouldn't that be something to see if we all met...?

I shook my head. There were no signs of recent travel in this part of the road; there had been no visible spots of other camps more recent—according to Mathias— than a year and the forest became stranger and stranger as I swear I saw a single yearling sapling with its newest leaves growing underside-up.

Kurn chose the campsite again an hour before Sunset; it was somewhat off the road as before, higher and defensible as before, though it did not take us as long to catch up as it had the previous day. A good thing, as we were not left much time to settle the horses before twilight feel. I felt much relief for my eyes and no worry for food, but too much longer and one of the horses would no doubt have stumbled into one of the many worn holes and broken a leg.

This time we were much closer to water, with a stream that could probably be traced back to the pool farther South where Kurn had been swimming. It hooked sharply toward the road before snapping back and disappearing deeper into the forest and the hills. The horses, notably, took a great long time to calm down enough to drink, even after Gavin had shuffled his Witch Hunters a good distance downwind from the camp.

As the light disappeared, my vision changed subtly with the coming darkness. I nearly always still saw in color, even without firelight, because rare was the night where there was absolutely no source of natural light, whether Moonlight had to filter through a few layers of clouds, or the blue and silver Sisters were absent and the Sky was clear to leave Starlight as crystalline points by which to guide me.

It took obstruction, complete enclosure, to block all light and for me to begin to see the world again in the wavelengths that made up its essence, from wherever that essence had come. I'd come to see it as highly appropriate: on the Surface, I only tended to see the surface of things, how it looked on the outside. And yet it was still possible to hide from sight in the Underdark as well, even if I intuitively understood much more what was happening to a living body as it moving in its environment, being able to see its...well, its aura, for lack of a better word.

It was a curious thought; I could not see the living auras up here, but Gavin could. Yet would his extra sense be entirely worthless down below? I wouldn't know unless I dragged him blind into a cave, at least, and I had to keep in mind that very few others on the Surface could see what he did.

Others might be able to see in other ways, though. Such infinite possibilities for creatures adapting to their home...yet the only reason for why I was even performing as well as I was in this alien place was because of the sorcerer's story. Once, my race had lived up here, too.

The acclimation had been long and hard, and without preparation and guidance, I would have died as quickly as Gavin would if he were simply sent down below with whatever strengths with which he happened to be born. It took something...much more to be able to change one's habitat so starkly.

My thought, looking up at the first Sister Moon just beginning to crest and lighten the Sky, was that it had to have been Lolth, or someone who served her, who had helped an entire population move at once down below. Someone had to have taught and guided a surface-dwelling people into a new way of life. The Valsharess, perhaps, or even another who didn't draw breath anymore. A good, strong command of the magic of this world would have been essential.

In such a way...magic more or less had the effect of collapsing time, allowing a mage to leap physical chasms, cross boundaries forbidden to the mundane and the ordinary cycle. How had that even come to be? Why could not every race and animal do it? How much effort and cost, memory and focus did it truly take, to do the things the Valsharess and Cris-ri-phon could do?

Many of the powerful ones made it look so easy, yet I wouldn't even know where to go beyond the innate gifts of calling light or darkness—a breeding trait that made more sense in the context Cris-ri-phon had given me. There were weaknesses, though; there had to be, or a mage would not often surround herself, or himself, with those most capable of acting entirely within the bounds of their physical limitations. They would not so often have guardians and fighters.

"Ye sensin' something, elf?" Rithal asked me gruffly as he made his resting spot for the night. "Yer starin' into the blackness."

I blinked and looked at the dwarf, then shook my head. "No. Nothing but the general oddness."

He grunted. "Not enough bugs an' critters makin' noise for this time o' year."

I had to nod at that. It wasn't dead silent like Gavin's servants, but it was quieter than it should have been. Insects, birds, frogs, climbing and burrowing rodents...there were just not enough of them within range of us if they were present and living by their nature. We all knew why, of course, but it did not alleviate the surreal oppression.

We didn't eat anything of this area that night; we ate entirely from our saddlebags, and I was glad that my guardians had already hunted the previous night and were still full of venom. No one protested Gavin placing the Witch Hunters in a wide ring around us to stand guard the whole night, though at least one of us would always be awake as well.

"It would be wiser, I think, if the Drow does not leave camp tonight as she has been," Mathias said. "If we should be accosted or approached, even outright attacked, we should all be together."

No one said or did anything particular, but they did all look at me.

I smiled without showing my teeth. "Perhaps it would be wise. I would not be able to run fast enough to save you in time, if the cannibals were to show up."

I received the scoffing and derisive sounds in response which I expected from the Ma'ab, though at least Rithal smirked as if he got the joke, and Mathias smiled a bit wider.

Gavin gave me a particularly subtle, unspoken thought by way of his eyes watching me for a few contemplative seconds. In his case, I had proven fast enough to reach him, even coming from a different floor from the inn; there had just been too many bodies in the way to actually save him.

Although I had received a second chance on that failure—something that I did not expect would never happen again in my life, long or short as it may prove to be.

We were curiously quiet, listening for the sounds that were missing, or for sounds that did not belong on a peaceful watch. The fire was kept low as possible so as not to ruin our night vision too much—though any light tended to mess with mind worse than the others—and I was not sure at first if I would be able to lie in reverie surrounded by my own travel companions. I had never done so this entire trip.

However, the long day of riding and heightened tension did begin to weigh on my shoulders, and sooner than I expected, my body made its demand for rest known to me. The thought crossed my mind that sleep always came when I needed it; all I had to do was let go. Harder to do when the Ma'ab was staring across the fire at me from time to time, but I made eye contact with Gavin to my side, and he nodded.

"I will stay up a while longer, I think."

Meanwhile, Mathias made his bed at a slight angle to mine—meaning that someone would have to step over him to get at me from one side of the fire—and Rithal did something similar a short while later on the other side, nearer to Gavin.

Knowing how repugnant the dwarf found the necromancer, this told me that he took seriously the threat that Kurn and I would not be able to handle staying in the same camp for a night.

*They expect Kurn to step over them, easy to wake up with such large boots landing near their heads. They would not expect the silent crawl of a few black spiders...*

I shook my head at my own thought. It may be so, but would I do that? For what purpose; to prove that I could, in this poorly-chosen time and place? No. Like the others, I too hoped that Kurn could control his impulses for one night. Tomorrow we may find the cult, and if we did...then that would be all that I needed him for after that. There was no reason to waste spider venom when he could die using the only skills for which he'd ever been recommended.

I still loosened my spider pouch, commanding them to stay out of sight and sound an alarm only. No biting if I had not identified the person and ordered it. It was a risk that required conscious thought on my part, but the last thing I needed was to discover what happened when one or more of my babies sank their fangs into Gavin's Greyland-touched flesh. Either Gavin would have undead, magical arachnids or the Grey Maiden would be very, very displeased with me. I trusted my reflexes enough not to court either error.

I lay down on the spare bedroll from my grey gelding, covered by my cloak and more of the low firelight blocked as I pulled my hood down. My hair, ears, and eyes would be covered as I slept, and Soul Drinker I placed next to me as the other I had crossed and strapped with the other on my pack next to me, laying the pack down atop the daggers so that it would be difficult for anyone except me to be both quiet enough and at the right angle to draw them.

Once I'd done what I could to set up quick defense, and as the males either talked quietly or made their own preparations to bed down, I was nearly plunged into reverie as my pregnant body greedily took its rest at last next to the campfire.

*****

Fine grit stung my forehead and my cheeks as I squeezed my eyes against the unpredictable gusts and swirling wind. The hot air rolled up and down the red dunes; it would be shifting them a grain at a time from on horizon to the next, though I could not open my eyes to watch—the sand would flay my eyes. I could feel hot Sunlight beating down on my shoulders as well as my red cloak, which was too heavy for this heat, flapping around my legs and obstructing my every step.

*What more do you need to convince you? Our brother becomes mad without us.*

I was not sure I recognized the voice in this wind; female, stern, impatient. I might have heard it before, but if I had, too many events had happened since then.

"I am sorry... I-I don't understand..."

This beautiful male voice I recognized, but I had not heard such arrant fatigue in it before. It was more like Jacob after his time with Mathias; the will was soft and yielding, despite trembling limbs still quivering in remembered tension and pain.

Was that the purpose here, to break him of a sickness he did not possess?

I could not look upon the other presence, the Sun was too strong and the sand too painful; even my sensitive ears with the air whipping kept me from understanding any of my senses but blasts of scent as I walked upwind. Somehow pure and elemental at first, it became a complex miasma of waning mortality which clogged my throat before it shifted to something barren, only to be reborn again as if in the full dawn of spring.

Still, I could feel when I reached him, and I knelt down to draw my heavy cloak over the Consort, shielding his naked body from the worst of the Sun and the sand. I could smell the ill heat of inflammation and the metallic tang of blood in smaller amounts; he'd been exposed long enough to have had his skin scoured by the wind and burned by the Sun.