Surfacing Ch. 17

I nodded. If there had ever been a Drow who "kept me" from wanting to be like her, it was my oldest sister, Juarinia. Adult tasks, adult violations, as the dwarf had said...

"I think he knows that ye can. An' that's why he likes ye."

"Not a good thing for a mercenary to 'like' his client," I murmured, unsure how to take that.

"Don' worry. He's not the clingy type." The greybeard grinned. "Not like that Archmage. Lauds fer foolin' him like that an' helping tah get rid of him. I got a Helluva laugh after 'twas over."

"You were essentially there the whole time?" I asked. "That part about a garbled message was spider shit, and you know why the Ma'ab Noble is dead."

"Yep. Ye proved yerself tah the Guild in this task, Sirana. Every one o' us has our haunts. Yer not gonna be spat at fer stumbling once. But ye gotta deal with it, and if it kills one o' us other than you in the future, we may have a different kind o' talk."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nope. Jus' saying we don't ignore demons around here. They don't get to stay in the shadows, we pull 'em out in the Sun so they can dry up. It's one good thing we learned from Varasa. It works on us as well as it does on them."

I started in shock. "Wha—? Wait, you've met some?"

"Aside from the Captain, a few more over the centuries. They can't keep honest emotions from each other for long, as I understan' it, 'specially between lovers. They also have a tendency to expose things bein' suppressed, an' they earn their enemies that way."

No shit. Between Jael's suppression of her magic and mine of realizing that I did know Auslan's real name, Isboern had already earned some bad blood.

"'Course, that's only because those enemies choose to be enemies, usually 'cause they can't deal with their shit when they face it," Talov added with definite glib, and I frowned at him. He shrugged. "The Captain did Jael a good turn, if she lets it be so. Up to her, in the end. Jus' don't let her impulses drag ye down, Sirana."

Before I could reply—or insult—there was another knock on the door. I winced at Talov's booming reply then another dwarf, one of the red-headed magic users I recognized from the debriefing at Yong-wen, poked his beard in. After an exchange and the door closing again, Talov slipped off his desk and sat down in his own chair, putting the desk between us.

"Ye want tah talk more while we're here, jus' let me know. It'll be a while as the others start tricklin' in. Now, though, Gavin's askin' fer ye. I told Kellan tah wait fer ye."

I blinked yet again. Gavin was...? He'd never done that before; I'd always gone to find him when my curiosity grew strong enough. What could he want?

I stood up slowly, reclaiming my pack and Soul Drinker from the floor before heading toward the wide door. I paused before I opened it and I wasn't sure why, but Talov smiled when I looked once more at him.

"Yer welcome," he said. "Now be off. Yer sister is in the room next tah Gavin. There's a spare pallet in both, take yer pick."

My immediate thought was that I would probably choose Gavin's, even if he didn't like it.

******

Kellan looked back and up at me a few times as we moved forward in the underground hideout, closer to where we'd come in. He wasn't too nervous, but he was appropriately cautious, and being a dwarf mage, he had less armor interfering with his gestures than some of the others I'd heard in this place, and I thought he might actually trim back his beard to keep it as neat as it was. Unlike Talov, none of those bristles touched his lips and the lines were remarkably straight, as if the sensory distraction when speaking words of magic could not be tolerated.

He had blue eyes like mine, and it came back to me again how Mourn had said if my eyes had been the usual Drow color, I'd not have had the opportunities I had among the Yungians. It was probably the same for the other races with Sky eyes in their mix; I'd be willing to bet they would treat Jael and me differently simply based on our eye color. I was more familiar, less threatening perhaps; they might look to me more without consciously realizing it.

I certainly hadn't seen any races at all on the Surface who carried the various shades of red and copper in their irises. Were we the only ones? What did that mean if we were?

Dwarven guards ahead made it clear where Gavin and Jael were being held; they stood straighter and turned as we approached. I kept my back straight as well.

"Is my Sister awake?"

"Nay," one dwarf said as another shook his head once. "Still sleepin'."

"About how long? What was given her?"

"Standard Guild sleeper," he grumped. "About four hours unless they are taxed. Retrieved prisoners sometimes sleep longer, but 'tis no worry. We have healers that check on 'em if they don't wake up in a few hours."

"I'd like to see her before I visit the necromancer."

It eased my concerns when they just shrugged and one moved to open the door without a key or any obvious locking mechanism. In theory, Jael could open up the door from the other side when she was awake.

I looked inside—it was purely dark—and felt my eyes shift to see her form lying still and peaceful on one of three pallets, her cloak covering her like a blanket and her items nearby.

"Leave the door open," I murmured, getting a nod before I stepped inside. Yes, I was testing them, maybe they'd shut the door on me and I'd have a lot to consider if they did, but regardless I had to make sure Jael's vital signs were normal and she wasn't worse off than they said.

I could smell her and detect a normal amount of body heat for the hour or so she'd been in here. I heard her lungs drawing in air normally, if at an unusually slow rate for her. Kneeling beside her, I noticed they had left a spare blanket, a water canteen, and some rations within reach.

I took off my gloves and touched her face, brushing fingers across her forehead, watching for any ticks or twitches telling me she was about to wake up. She didn't react; her body temperature was normal without fever, though I felt plenty of dried sweat and clinging dirt from her time in Manalar's dungeon.

Taking one of my own cloths from my belt and the last bit of water I had left in my own travel skin, I used it to wipe down her face and neck. I thought I heard her sigh once but wasn't sure it hadn't just been a spare breath from the unconscious stimulation. Oh well, I hadn't done it to wake her up, not really. This might be my only opportunity to do what I craved without her throwing a punch at me. Or looking at me in betrayal and disgust.

I lowered my nose to her neck and trailed it up to her ear and her temple, inhaling her familiar scent, still tangy and sweet but now with an alteration that reminded me of Shyntre, something which had always been like a warm spice settling on the back of my tongue. I opened my mouth slightly and dragged my lips across her forehead before pressing a kiss in the middle.

She didn't come awake suddenly, yelling at me.

Drawing in more scent, my mouth watered and I pressed more kisses to her grit-free face; her temple, cheeks, and jaw, before moving without hesitation to her entirely relaxed mouth. She was breathing through her nose and I wasn't sure I'd ever felt her lips this soft before when she was awake; all tension was gone and I knew well this was proof that she wasn't faking her sleep.

My heart rate had risen as I nudged open her slack mouth to take a few deep kisses while I could, dabbing my tongue at hers and along the inside of her cheek. I did miss that there was no reciprocation, no reaction. It was not as if this was my preferred form of sensual tasting; it was just better than the nothing I could expect for a long while once she roused.

Still, the longer I went on, the more this felt more like a scavenger taking advantage, like what Cris had done to me in his room. I may as well have been asleep, despite the screams of pleasure I remembered filling my ears, kneeling with my knees apart as his magic flooded me. If only I didn't remember any of it...but then I may have hesitated in my choice just today. He may have fooled me, again.

It was why I wasn't truly tempted to go much farther with Jael as she lay unresisting. I could reassure myself that she was alive and had made it out of Manalar, reward myself in some small way, but much more and I might as well let her wake up naked with her own dagger's hilt wedged inside her ass.

I rose to my feet and nodded my satisfaction to the dwarves waiting for me; we closed Jael's door and Kellan knocked on Gavin's. I was aware of an odd, small ripple as he'd done so, as if there was a spell on the door. Maybe it was a sound-dampening one, because it did not seem as if Gavin had been aware of us standing out here, despite the talking earlier.

Still, he grunted and stepped back slightly, wide enough to allow me to be able to slip into the room sideways but narrow enough that he could prevent a dwarf from trying. I nodded to Kellan and entered the room with Gavin, where the necromancer promptly closed the door with a thud.

It was cooler in here than it had been next door, just a bit. There were three pallets in here as well but also a small desk with a lamp that was lit—both of which looked to have been hastily added, as one of the pallets was shoved to one side, slightly overlapping another.

Gavin's belongings were spread out and he had been cleaning and mending anything in his pack as well as his Ma'ab sword, though he wasn't finished. His grimoire was closed upon the desk, and by the stains on his hands and the scent in the air I was guessing he had been writing furiously in that first and probably only just started on the sorting and mending of his kits after he had asked to see me.

Assuming he had truly asked.

Looking over him in the dim light, with his aura more settled now and in a quiet space, I saw his robe was almost in tatters; there were holes in many places, under which I could see the worn and now damaged leather armor of his usual attire, and even part of his monk's undergarments where the black spikes had ripped through. All of it would have to be replaced, along with his boots which would fall off his feet on the next journey. His belt was gone entirely, and there were still a few black spikes poking up on his shoulders.

His hair was long again and partly covering his face, and his long-fingered hands were to his sides, curled and flexing slightly now and then. He wasn't watching me directly, he was looking down and slightly to the side, as if he was thinking about something other than where he was and who he had just allowed into his temporary sanctum.

"You asked for me?" I prompted.

Gavin blinked deeply shadowed eyes—I could only tell when the icy blue glint winked out for a second—and he nodded. "I need another set of eyes to describe...changes for me, before I miss an opportunity."

There was something changed about his normal speaking voice, I noted quickly. It was still recognizable but it wasn't quite as hoarse. Sort of like the opposite of what had happened to Kurn's vocal cords after being healed by Amelda.

"Alright," I agreed. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Just describe what you see that is different from before I stepped onto the sacred light."

"Yes, what happ—?"

"No," he interrupted, staring at my face. "Sirana, no questions until we've finished."

I shrugged and shut my mouth. No leading the conversation this time, apparently, but I could be glad he was including me at all, instead of asking one of the Guild or something. I stood still and quiet as Gavin began to undress, removing the ruined boots and monk's robe, setting them next to his pack. He neither needed nor wanted assistance removing the worthless leather piece as well, adding that to the small heap on the floor.

It left only the long, linen shirt and braies, each split with holes in places where the spikes had punched through, those few on his shoulders still currently filled with that black, bony material that reminded me of his teeth, fingernails, and toenails.

I wasn't sure how he wanted to do this—he hadn't ever shown an entirely nude form in the months I'd known him; even bathing in the various rivers he kept his long shirt on. He was now, at least, willing to remove the top and keep on the bottoms; I heard more linen tear as it caught on the shrinking spikes. He was facing away from me and I saw two things that made my breath catch in my throat.

"What?" he asked harshly. "Describe it."

"Your spine is blackened," I said, "the same way some of the Ma'lok were. And the Musanlo brand is gone. So are all of your scars, the whip marks."

Gavin reached back with long, black-tipped fingers to touch his spine and also where the brand used to be. The skin was not really smooth or youthful; it was still grey-tinged and somewhat dry-looking—plus there were new bumps as if his skin was hiding bony protrusions—but the lack of those old, badly-healed lacerations did wonders for his overall appearance of health and strength.

"Anything else?" he asked. I mentioned the bumps, and he nodded, his breathing heavier as he contained most of his thoughts. "The spines receding. What else?"

"Turn around."

He did so more reluctantly, and even though he should be able to see everything I could, I still described it for him. "Scars are gone. Your two lower ribs are blackened like your spine is, and they connect in the back."

He lightly touched his ribs. "A discoloration of the skin?"

I shook my head. "No. Like something's rising up out of the skin, a film or a shell, not just a discoloration."

Gavin grunted in agreement, pondering this as he studied his torso, touching only lightly and only when needed; he was not prodding at himself in distress or pain that I could tell.

"What about your legs?" I asked.

"I do not need your help for that."

"Very well. Can I touch your rib, or one of the spikes?"

He looked at me with a narrowed expression. "Why?"

"Curious. And you asked me to describe it to you."

He still wasn't comfortable with the idea of being touched; that hadn't changed.

"Come, Gavin. I have a theory, I want to see if I'm right."

"I could probably tell you."

I didn't reply to that, just folded my arms and waited, keeping my face placid as his as I appraised him. I still hadn't replaced my gloves from when I'd been touching Jael. As I'd kind of suspected, Gavin shifted awkwardly being stared at by a quiet female. I thought maybe I had probably talked far too much in the past, allowing him to have that to struggle against, an excuse to keep my attention roving to the next thing.

I wondered if Nyx tended to watch him without speaking. He certainly wouldn't be watched all that often by Human females, certainly not asked if one could touch him; by their standards, the half-blood was far too ugly. It was a good thing he didn't crave it from them.

Finally, the mage hissed softly and turned one shoulder my way, covering his left-side ribs with his large hand and showing me exactly where I could touch on his shoulder. I didn't waste time as I stepped forward to close the gap, reaching to touch what had probably been one of the largest black spikes I'd seen when he'd been levitating in the courtyard, easily four times the length that it was now.

It felt hard; it wasn't pure bone, nor was it metallic in any way; it was more like rock, but a glassy one, like obsidian or heat-tempered flint. Touching it brought back a memory from when we'd been defending against the Ma'lok in the temple chamber; Mourn's memory. How both the black flint in the Ma'lok's weapons and later the bones protruding from Gavin's flesh had felt across his draconic tongue.

"This is the same material as in the Ma'lok weapons," I said.

"Laced with it, certainly," Gavin admitted. "Are you finished?"

I was close enough to note his spine and ribs had been partly converted in the same way the bone spike had been, though some of the skin along his spine was indeed discolored now, adding to the stripe down his back. His entire skeleton would be black beneath his flesh. Anyone collecting skulls who managed to get his would have a one of a kind on this world...

I nodded and took a step back, folding my arms close to myself again. "What is it?"

"Pneuma flint."

I waited, staring at him, then asked, "What is that?"

"One of the primary elements of the Greylands," Gavin said quietly and seemed reluctant to tell me more than that as he turned to put his holey long shirt back on.

"So...are you dead? Or undead?"

"I have had hunger pangs since being brought here," he murmured, sitting down at the desk and opening up his book to look at a few recent pages. "I have had the urge to sleep, and I am still breathing by necessity rather than habit. So I can neither be a corpse nor one animated by will and magic."

I looked around and noticed a tray set by the door; it would have had the same bread and stew I'd had, and it would seem that he had eaten all of it, and drunk from the pitcher of water still on his desk.

"But silver would still be dangerous to you as it was to the Ma'lok."

"Yes, but not as extreme, I think. I am still of this world, they were not."

"Hm. And daylight?"

"Still darkens my appearance."

"Well...then what are you?"

"I don't have a point of comparison." He made a note with his quill, letting the ink sit as he leaned back, watching the wall, or something beyond it. "I can liken it to some form of hybridization, but that's not entirely accurate."

I smirked at that, rolling my eyes upward. Another hybrid?

"So you're not saying exposure to the Greylands changed you to a half-Human, half-Ma'lok, correct?" I said, not really believing it.

Gavin actually smiled a bit at this suggestion. "Correct, on two points. For one, Ma'lok are living creatures of the Greylands, just as Ma'ab were. They are bred, they are not golems created from the dirt."

In my mind, the incongruence of a "land of the dead" giving birth to "living" creatures made me squint at the mage...until I remembered that wherever Elf essence went, it wasn't the Greylands. So, something was flexible about all this.

Gavin continued. "For two, I had already begun this change at the inn. I needed to die once to complete my mistress's ritual, but up until then had not had the courage to pierce my own heart."

I blinked. "Wait, that struggle I heard, trying to keep that from happening...?"

The Deathwalker shrugged slightly. "It was a silver dagger. If I had to die to be reborn... as it was, I would prefer more ideal terms. Unfortunately I couldn't convince the Witch Hunter to use something other than that knife."

I rubbed my hand over my face, grumbling or laughing or a mix of both.

He actually turned to look at me then; at least his eyes were the same icy night color. "What the rift did, I believe, was provide near-unlimited energy for me to channel as the Grey Maiden's willing servant. It sparked and fanned my regeneration well beyond what I was capable of before, to the point additional growths were erupting from my frame. Any other mage attempting to channel so much energy would have caused irreparable damage to their body, but I'd already destroyed mine and rebuilt it with that abundance."

He tilted his head in thought. "Now, away from the source of this power, I'm starting to bleed off the excess. Though by your observations, I may have transformed further and more permanently."

I narrowed my eyes a bit. "But you hadn't changed that much until after Brom captured me. I didn't recognize you at first in the courtyard."

Gavin nodded slowly. "Part of a speedy plan after you were taken. Three men from the inn remained behind after Mathias used something to escape us. We killed them so I could question them quickly and without lies. Thanks to Mourn's tracker pearl on you and their confirmation, we knew you were in the Archbishop's quarters. Isboern led Mourn an alternate way back to that hallway where we met the first Hellhound, and they would duck down below again to find that hinted secret passage to that room.