Surfacing Ch. 16

And letting them feel every inevitable moment of it.

I shuddered, down on one knee and heaving the entire time I felt Soul Drinker do this. My wrist moved by itself, twisting the blade to keep it in. It was worse than what had happened to Kurn or the Chaos giant, when I'd been connected to them.

I was going to have some bad dreams about this.

Jael reached out to touch me in concern at one point, "Sirana—"

I screamed something unintelligible at her, kicked at her to force her back. If Soul Drinker hadn't been in such bliss already, it might have become aware of her...

No.

Finally I heard a sound like suction being released, and the Hellhound slipped off of my blade and fell limp to the temple floor. He was still whole. Sweat coated my forehead and I was shaking, my stomach roiling with nausea; the wound at my collarbone throbbed. Gavin's eyes were closed, and I watched him breathe in slowly; I realized his hand was now through the bubble and gripping the back of the Hellhound's neck, touching him skin-to-skin.

Shortly, the second Hellhound slumped over as well. Whole.

The rest of the Guardians had suffocated or bled out during that time; they were all dead. Slowly I became aware that Isboern was in a shouting match with the Archbishop from across the wrought iron barrier.

"Mourn?" I asked, voice trembling a bit as I wiped sweat from my forward with my glove. I probably only smeared it.

"Here. Good work, Sirana. Secure your dagger."

There was one false start as I hesitated doing so, but soon I had it back in its sheath for the first time since this had started. Only then did the hybrid help me to my feet. He was emitting a lot of heat again, and he smelled good.

"Isboern hasn't given up hope of talking sense into them," Mourn commented.

That surprised me. He had nearly been convinced after the bubble had been erected; seeing what he saw had caused him such pain.

"What? Why not?"

"The Noldor showed up. Now the Bishops are crying heresy."

*Oh, Tamuril...not now.*

Although this was more Isboern's fault than Tamuril's. Personally, I would have thought that my superiors threatening a...a "friend," as the Noldor would call it, would further convince me to rebel against them, not push me to suddenly try to justify the alliance or negotiate with them.

Certainly it said something about his superior's ability to adapt to circumstance if he shrieks so loudly about change when he was already losing the battle.

Gavin snorted, sounding invigorated after defeating the Hellhounds, rather than worn as I was. "Wait. I will show them true heresy."

Mourn smiled. Reprisal had joined us next to the bubble as well, bloodied and satisfied, and most of the civilians were now in a crunch on the far side of the chamber. I finally focused far enough out to see multiple Men trying to lift the iron bar keeping those doors shut. It wasn't budging. There were scars and marks upon the hardwood as the Nobles used anything they could find to batter at the doors.

They were trying to get out, and they couldn't.

"Did the Bishops—?"

"Yep," Wolf said darkly. "And their people know it. They aren't quite that stupid for a city of woman-haters."

"Magically sealed," Mourn said. "No one is leaving."

I had a feeling the Valsharess would be proud of the Archbishop's choice. This had all the feeling of a good Purge.

"The Ma'ab are inside the city," Peng Lok said solemnly. I didn't have to ask how he knew that. "We must call on the Ma'ab enemies or they will take the magic of the pool for themselves."

Gavin nodded, looking around the chamber, and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear his thoughts right then. He was counting live bodies as well as dead ones. I checked for both my bone charms again.

"Stand back," Mourn said.

We did, but before the dragonblood had the chance to do anything, Archbishop Keros had finally had enough of the Captain's interference and his words, and sent enough power our way to not only dispel the bubble, but to physically force us back with the spare power. I tumbled but controlled my fall enough to roll and get back up. Most of us did except Gavin, who did not seem any worse for wear as he stood up last.

"You have released the Harlot of Hell into our sacred chambers!" Keros exploded, pointing at Jael as he called out to Isboern. "You have lain with a demoness of the Wild!"

He was pointing now at the Noldor as she stood beside him, and behind a protective wall of thorny vines. There was burn damage to them, so I had to assume the Bishops had attacked them as I was writhing with Soul Drinker and the Hellhound.

The Noldor was not wearing any disguise; she looked the same as when I'd last seen her—of forest colors and flowers with her bow on her back, though her blond hair was tied back tightly. I would have said that her back was a bit straighter. I did not see Pilla, but it was probably unwise to bring that over-protective bird inside this place anyway.

Wait. He had lain with...?

"Did the Captain confess fucking Tamuril while I was busy?" I asked Mourn.

"No. Keros is presuming."

"Think they did?" Jael asked.

"I do not care."

Keros continued his rant, and Isboern like the fool he was tried to speak as if he would be heard, no matter how loud he was.

"This has been your plan all along, Isboern! You play the temptation to the poor and impressionable with false pretenses and they call you 'Godblood.' You have proven the lie! Musanlo's Faithful shall now know of your treachery, Knight Captain, we will begin fresh. As the Earth needs the Sun to grow, so, too, does pure the Light of His Grace cleanse the wicked soul!"

"SHAH-ALAH IGNOMINI!" cried the five other Bishops in unison.

Whatever we anticipated from those words, I did not expect them to shatter their own glass dome but I immediately saw the use for those angled mirrors. More Sunlight streamed in to reflect off them and hit the pool directly, even it being early in the morning. Isboern hauled Tamuril away from the falling glass, and the Templars backed up just as quickly, unsure how to best support their leader in the face of the Archbishop's accusations.

The Bishops didn't care if they were cut by the glass. I saw some bits of red appear on ecstatic faces as their power swelled within the chamber at an alarming rate.

"Everyone rally to the Captain!" Mourn shouted, startling the Abyss out of us. "Get shelter, don't be a target!"

I was just in position to catch Mourn's sign to Gavin: *Be ready. Will open the way.*

It was obvious what he meant about clearing the way. The nine Temple Guardians were finally moving, coming forward a few steps and bracing to catch anyone who might threaten what must be the ultimate cleansing spell for the Bishops of Musanlo. I dragged Jael with me as Lung and Reprisal obeyed Mourn. Captain Isboern looked toward us as we approached, appraised us, and signaled to his men, who did not attack. Instead we were all out of the direct line of sight of the pool.

Tamuril didn't recognize me—she gave me an odd look, since I did not fit in with the rest—but she looked at Jael and swallowed.

"Krithannia says you've never been so stupid than to run back inside a burning trap," I said. "And I agree. You should have gone with her."

The blonde Elf jerked her wide, green eyes to stare at me instead. She had definitely recognized my voice, as well as the name of her dark-haired, Noldor sister.

"S-Sirana...?" She looked at Isboern, who told her something with his gaze. "The Guild?"

She didn't look as surprised that the Guild was here; she wouldn't be, having met Krithannia out in the city somewhere. It was me being part of it, and then it was the look she gave Mourn in the next moment as he prepared to speak. She was seeing him for the first time in his natural form. Perhaps she'd just put something together.

There was time for nothing else, however, as Mourn shouted. "NIF'KOUS-SHAK!"

Pure force ripped down the center of the barriers guarding the pool, all of them.

The first fence ripped in two and each piece shrieked its way to the side; the Guardians looked to be caught by an invisible juggernaut colliding and sweeping them to the sides, to roll uncontrollably until they struck the side walls with enough force to make their metal armor sing. Four of the golden-tipped spears snapped in half, though the pool itself pushed back against the metal debris landing in it, and the nearest Bishop with the Hellhound-stained robes shuddered and stumbled back from the pool, temporarily weakening the mages' bond. The rest—with whatever defenses they had around themselves—held fast on their feet.

Gavin was already moving with his Witch Hunter servant, drawing out the soul shard for what we hoped would be the final time, leaving his backpack on the floor. I noticed the pale skin of his hand already darkening in the natural light. Once Mourn caught his feet after expending that much magic all at once, he also stepped forward, drawing his sliders to defend the necromancer's approach.

Keros had lost his concentration only until he remembered how angry he was. "No! Uganta tenlous NOMILU SANCJI-MOC!"

The cream tiles of the altar lit up and burned as stone should not be able to do, spreading quickly like spilling water to surround the Bishops and the pool. Eventually it flared beneath the trespassers' feet, clearly causing them pain as Mourn and Gavin cried out and the undead jerked erratically, unable to control its movements. For a moment, I almost thought the floor had turned to burning white sand reflecting heat, as if the very Sun itself had fallen upon Miurag.

I couldn't do anything to help. This was beyond me.

Mourn hooked his broad arm around Gavin's ribs and hauled him backwards off the platform before he collapsed. He wasn't wearing boots; his feet were definitely wounded, and I saw his mouth move as he focused to heal himself. The Bishops took the moment of weakness to follow up with a tight arrow of light that struck the shaking Witch Hunter body, and continued toward Mourn. It smashed into the fastest-growing thorny vines I'd ever seen, splintering those and sparing Mourn's spine from the same damage...

I glanced at Tamuril and saw both her and her Human psionic concentrating on Mourn and Gavin while holding hands. Neat trick.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"What can they do?" Tamuril asked. "What are they trying to do?"

"Take away the Bishops' power," I replied. "If they can get close enough."

Isboern shook his head. "They can't now. That spell is protection for the sacred pool of Manalar. Only Musanlo's priests can walk upon it or even fly over it. Even I cannot go there."

I narrowed my eyes on Jacob's shard as Gavin stood up again. He reset his fallen hood to shield his eyes somewhat as he turned a fast-darkening face toward the light once again. I could see his back, and even with the chamber washed with white light, something glowed blue under his robe, high between his shoulder blades. At the same time, something golden shined in the same place beneath the robes of Keros and his Bishops.

"What determines a priest of Musanlo in this ritual?" I asked.

Isboern blinked at me. He didn't know.

I glanced at Gavin again. "Do they all have Sun brands given to each other, one priest to another?"

The Captain gave me an odd look, as if I'd said something lewd. "I... believe so."

Gavin walked fearlessly again onto the glowing floor, into the very well of light reflected over and over off the polished plates with punishing intensity. He staggered a step but kept going; I was sure now it was the Sunburst brand seared into him by his father that I could see through his clothing.

I was not sure the five remaining Bishops, in their magical trance, realized Gavin was there. Nor did they seem to realize that their one fallen Bishop was unconscious and unprotected against the light. The power was swelling again and I had to think they must have their eyes closed as the chants continued and no damaging beams shot out again. Maybe with four mage-priests missing from their circle of nine, their ritual would welcome another priest with the same scarring.

"Gavin!" Mourn called.

The necromancer ignored him, placing one smoking foot in front of the other. I almost thought the Sunlight was causing him to waste away. He looked thinner all of a sudden.

"Mourn!" I called back. "Let him! Pull back!"

The hybrid glanced my way, looked back at the Deathwalker, and I saw his tongue flick out...and whatever he smelled caused the spines to rise on his back. He paced the barrier of light briefly, as if searching for a weak spot. He only broke his guard and rejoined us when he didn't find one.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"He's burning up!"

Oh. So that was the scent...

"But he can walk on the hallowed light of the pool," Isboern said softly. He was staring at the brand as well.

"Better hope he makes it," Jael muttered, and I realized she was talking to me in Drow, pointedly ignoring the Godblood. "You only have one of him, right?"

It was a fair question.

"You're not a priest, Isboern?" I asked. "You seem close to Musanlo."

His jaw tightened. "I am a soldier of the Sun God, Sirana, not a priest."

Auslan and Gavin had both said differently, but I ignored that for now. "Have you ever tried walking on it?"

"No. I have respected the order of the Bishops."

"Until now. Why save Mourn?"

"Tami asked me to help."

Well, Krithannia would be happy to hear that. If we survived to tell her.

"So you could try to walk on it now. You've already broken your oath."

"No!" Tamuril cried. "That's pure magic! Willven is not a mage!"

"If Gavin drops the shard, Isboern may have to pick it up," Mourn rumbled.

The Noldor was definitely ready to argue with the Guild leader. I wondered if it would help if I hit her in the face?

Another wave of magic caught us, and even indirectly it weakened our knees and made our heads throb. Heat shimmered in waves, rising toward the broken Skylight, and as I looked up again I could see the barest edge of the Sun cresting the opening from my angle.

It only made our headaches worse.

Soon I could smell what Mourn had said; Gavin's burning flesh that did not smell like normal cooking meat. I pursed my lips. Was my grey mage as suicidal as the Hellhounds? Would he destroy himself to spoil that pool? While it was exactly that determination the Guild needed from him, and I thought what I knew of his devotion to Nyx might seal that thought into being, it would definitely alter some of my plans.

First, I would not be obliged or able to assist him in taking the Tower from Sarilis. Nyx would be giving up that Ley intersection. Would she? Would Gavin's time on this plane serving the Grave Mother be so short, after the many gifts she'd given him and after the centuries she had been exiled from here?

Maybe neither of them had planned for this. Maybe they had underestimated Musanlo's own servants.

"Your God broke his word."

I jumped to hear Gavin's normally soft, scholar's voice fill the chamber. It was him, but didn't sound exactly like him.

His voice continued. "His faithful have corrupted his teachings."

I squinted at the punishing light again. The grey mage was on the first step leading to the pool and taking the second. It was hard to see more than the black figure with the Sunburst shining blue on his back.

"The Godblood has heralded your time of judgment," Gavin said, his voice now hoarse and grating. "You were warned."

He sounded like a Greylord might.

The Archbishop wheezed, stuttering at the wasted, walking corpse now facing him. "N-nomuli sancji...it's not p-possible..."

"Musanlo has abandoned us..."

"Silence, Ocu!"

"His back! Look! The s-sigil!"

The light wavered. I could only assume the Bishops of Manalar had nothing left to throw at us.

Gavin lifted an entirely black, skeletally thin arm, taking that last step onto the blue-rune tiles. "Now... be judged by the purity of your chosen champions. Morningstar bless the rapture."

I barely made out the black shard dropping into the pool. Unlike the broken poles from earlier, nothing rose up from the pool to prevent it from breaking the surface of the water. I wondered if everyone heard the tiny "plop" like I did.

The light upon the floor immediately began to fade. Wailing began at the back of the chamber where the Noble families cowered on the floor praying. The light shifted above us and I looked up to see grey clouds rising to block the Sun from entering the Skylight. The well of light at the altar became as thin and wispy as smoke from a campfire, until only the torches again illuminated the temple.

I focused on one of the mirrors, now that I could make out a reflection again and my head didn't hurt quite so bad. The water was no longer clear and clean; it looked like someone had spilled a jug of wizard's ink into it. The darkness was spreading out from Jacob's soul.

"NO!" Keros screamed, his face contorted in anguish and fear. "I...I shall exile you from our very WORLD, devil!"

He cast...or, tried to cast. I witnessed a fast and complicated series of gestures and words, complete with a final apparent thrust of will.

But nothing happened. It was quiet, and I could see no rift about to open up either. Gavin watched Keros curiously for a moment then he stepped back off the steps and began walking away, leaving the five surviving mages looking at their useless hands.

I sucked in a breath when I saw my necromancer's blackened, shriveled face; there were glimpses of his teeth as if they showed through lips burned off, and I couldn't make out his eyes at all in his corpse-like face. He only took enough steps from the Bishops before he sank down to his knees, the ravages of the holy light taking its toll. Gavin looked as dead and grotesque as Deshi's tattoo... and make no mistake, the young Man of Yong-wen made some kind of sign across his chest as he moved up into my periphery.

"Black Ghost, we should kill the priests for his goddess," he murmured, still holding his Nyx-blessed dagger and saying it loud enough for Mourn to hear him. "Maybe it will heal him?"

Deshi's leader nodded, signing that they secure the Bishops and await his sign to kill them, and Lung and Reprisal both surged forward to surround the rulers of Manalar.

*Me, too! ME, TOO!* Soul Drinker cried. *Give me the Archbishop of whom you dreamt!!*

*No,* I thought sternly, moving forward to Gavin, gesturing for Jael to follow. *He is for Nyx.*

*Curse NYX!*

*Shut up. Just shut up.* I moved forward, Jael keeping close, her body language protective, as Mourn stayed with the Godblood and Tamuril for the moment.

I could feel my spiders nesting in my hair, aware of the magical quiet as well but responding to my own nerves and the constant vibrations from the people droning as they kept as far from the altar as possible. Gavin had sunk further down as lay on his side as I approached.

I didn't touch him—I could see thick and black ooze causing his singed robe to stick to his wounds in many places—but I crouched and spoke to him.

"Gavin? What will heal you?"

I wasn't sure if he could hear me at first, if he was just thinking, but he made no answer, and I couldn't make contact with eyes that were no longer whole. Jael sniffed once and plugged her nose; I might have to do the same if my stomach didn't settle.

"Deshi will give the priests to Nyx," I said. "Will that help you?"

There was the barest shrug from him, and I could only just tell that his ribs expanded. Was he breathing? Oh, goddess, that had to hurt...

Mourn had approached behind me and was observing next to Jael; he took the opportunity with my glance to sign me a question.

"The rift hasn't opened," I said. "What do we do?"