Surfacing Ch. 19

I grinned. "Magic horse, hm?"

That reminded me, I would have to ask Gavin about his undead mare...

"In this case, my spell," she glowered.

I nodded. "Ahh. Very well. Continue."

"When we arrived," she repeated with lingering irritation before her tone softened, "they were beating her like the brutes they are. Their words...I can only be thankful none of them ever possessed magic to channel that hatred."

Perhaps. But it was Men of magic that had twisted them to such extremes, encouraged and rewarded such myopic focus. I listened.

"Willven ordered the Templars to intervene, telling the Hunters he needed the assassin alive. There was great argument...but I saw the white hair and the dark skin in the torchlight, and..." The pale blonde looked up, her eyes glistening again. "I thought it was you. I thought about your baby, and...Willven sensed my distress, linked with me to ask me what was wrong, and I t-told him..."

She stopped, swallowing with some difficulty.

After a few moments, I prodded, "Told him what?"

"Told him...that I'd lied. That it was not a sorcerer who traded me the Genetha powder, but this would-be assassin in front of us. That I had seen this Drow on the surface months ago and it was she who made it necessary to leave the forest to find him.

"I asked him to save you and your child."

I didn't respond, but couldn't help but feel astonished that Tamuril had been telling me the truth on that hillside with her bow drawn. She would not kill a pregnant enemy, even one actively attempting to kill her cherished Godblood. Apparently, she would not even do nothing, would not let it happen if she could stop it.

I still didn't agree. Even now, even knowing that had perhaps saved Jael and put some urgency to Isboern's efforts to claim the Drow away from the Witch Hunters. Even knowing that had it been me in her place, it would have worked to my favor.

I didn't agree because, down below, even if we were officially forbidden from targeting unborns to get at the mother...this did not allow a pregnant Matron or Noble to threaten her rivals with impunity. She would likely end up in a Palace dungeon for the duration of her pregnancy, unless another was forced to kill her in self-defense. This strained balance had the effect of making pregnant Drow very cautious and protective of their freedom when they were most vulnerable.

Had I been directly targeted by an assassin I knew, and also knew was with child at the time...it may be that I would have to kill her to save myself. In fact, it was too dangerous despite my deals and my bodyguard to let myself believe that *no one* up here on the Surface would follow through on killing me regardless if they knew I carried. That was far too foolish to assume, even having met several who would let me live because of my pregnancy.

"And he did save her," I said lowly. "At what point did you realize it wasn't me?"

"She regained consciousness as Willven was arguing with the Hunters," Tamuril said. "She was being held by the Templars. I got closer, saw she wasn't you, but had to know if you were connected. I said your name to her, and it surprised her so...she went berserk and hurt herself further trying to get at me. I did not understand her but saw she knew you."

The druid swallowed again, and her fingers moved with some subtlety from his hair to just beneath his jaw, and I thought she might be checking his pulse. Apparently everything was fine, as she continued.

"There was some small injury between Templar and Witch Hunter as Willven did his best to calm them. Jael was badly injured and in poorer health from her stalk and would not survive until dawn with the Hunters, but her own shrieks in a strange language did not help. I...all I could do was summon a wind which remained strong and stole away voices so Willven could influence them with his peace, without their words further enraging each other, and, at last, the Hunters conceded to wait until the morning."

Tamuril stopped talking and looked up at me directly. After a few moments, I grunted.

"Thank you."

"Do you really mean that, Sirana?"

I nodded.

"Why did you not simply follow me if you would delay killing your own target in favor of finding Jael? You were weeks behind her."

Fair question.

"I thought about it," I said. "I could only focus on one. I chose to go to the Tower."

That pink mouth frowned further. "But then left again."

"Because I found the apprentice, and a few others, who would bring me farther than I would get on my own stalking a Noldor with a bird's eyes in the Sky."

At the mention, Tamuril did look up at the Sky, as did I, but Pilla hadn't returned yet. I was glad.

"You found the Guild to help you," she said flatly.

I felt satisfied at that, so I smiled and nodded.

"I knew Krithannia was in it," she murmured. "I knew of her Elfblood companion, but never...never saw him as..."

I waited. As what?

She breathed out. "He showed himself to me only once, and as a Wolf-shape Elf, but he was large, and the voice was the same. It is him, I know. I...am not sure what he is now, or if that is his true form."

I stared. She couldn't be saying the Noldor bred with...? "Why, of all things, would he show himself as a beast-Elf to you...?"

"There are old stories," she began, then stopped and her eyes widened as she put her hand to her mouth. "Oh..."

"What. Stories?" I wasn't leaning against the tree anymore and my stance widened. "You started it, don't you dare stop."

Tamuril's regret was blazing on her face and in her complexion, but she said, "Stories of Elves that never joined the old societies. Their magic was based on becoming part of their environment in a way culture-builders will never know."

"What do you mean?"

"They are said to have been so skilled with shapeshifting, one could not tell them from a true animal by any means, not scent or spell or true sight. But also, sometimes, they remained in that form so long that they retained those qualities even shifting back into a true Elf. Krithannia introduced me to an Elf with wolf qualities. I...I assumed he was one of these..."

"Living in a city," I pointed out.

"Yes, I know. But he was an exile, like her."

"And like you."

The druid frowned. "You as well, Sirana."

"I may yet go back."

"But it cannot last. You must seek teachings from a Varasa. Unless a race down below will help you?"

Not likely. She could probably read my doubt.

"But your Willven wants me to go back," I almost sneered. "Didn't he tell you about the part of his 'quest' that requires his God to interrogate my Consort? That they want me to go retrieve him for them from the Underdark and only *then* will he help me avoid going mad?"

Tamuril looked horrified and she held her knight just a little closer. "He...he would not say..."

"He was linked with me, he meant it," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "And I think I have my proof that you have never bedded Isboern."

She did a double-take. "Wh-what?!"

"Something he said about not being able to hide what he is with lovers."

"He has a wife!" she blurted, her face flushing a deep rose as her eyes teared up again. "He's lost his son! How dare you!"

How dare I? I noticed she failed to say she didn't want to, if he was available. Although Krithannia wasn't going to be happy with me, was she? This was probably exactly what she meant about giving them time.

Now the Godblood was finally waking up as well, rolling slowly, sluggishly, so that he was on his back again with his head cradled in her lap.

"Tami...?" he whispered, a hand coming up, shaking before falling back down, as if he was half-paralyzed. "What's wrong?"

She plucked up his broad hand before it landed and brought it back up too her lips as if she was trying to keep more words from spilling from her mouth; she was shaking, squeezing her eyes shut. She'd be crying again very soon.

*Fffuuuck.*

I wasn't staying for this. I'd been here too long, I didn't know where Jael was, I didn't know if Mourn and Gavin were finished, and I felt like testing how fast that Guildsman could move if he maybe wasn't expecting me to turn right toward him and return to my original hiding spot.

Move he did as I paced back, but not quietly enough for me not to locate and glimpse the dark leather of his boot as he vanished upward. If I had been hunting him right now, I'd be far too close for him to get away. But I wasn't, and if I wanted to go further in this direction, I'd have to climb. Either up or down.

"Sirana, wait," Isboern croaked.

I shook my head and stepped into the shadow of the hill. I'd climb down. It wouldn't take long and Tamuril wouldn't leave a logy Captain alone to chase after me in the woods. I crouched and found my points of contact as I turned toward the ground, scaling down as smoothly as the Guildsman had been going up. There were handholds and plants growing out of the rock with strong branches to grab if I didn't mind a little more noise—which I didn't since I was more interested in speed.

It was about halfway down that I caught a glimpse of something in my periphery on the other side of the branch I held. It was far too close to be anything other than a rock or swell of ground I hadn't registered fully...except then it moved.

My head snapped to the right, and I stared at a face as black as my own. It wasn't Jael. I saw a lipless, ear-to-ear grin deep in shadow and my gaze swept up from there to see the eyes were not gold but blue, and glowing slightly. The pupils were crosses, expanding and contracting slightly as it registered my own somatic response, and it opened its mouth to laugh without voice. The thin, sharp, teeth were black as the rest of its face, its maw glowing a faint blue like a magic stone thrown far down into some abyss. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

I couldn't smell anything, I heard no breathing and no heartbeat, but I sure as fuck could see it. Thick, black tendrils sloped like a mockery of hair off the back of a ridged head that was like a skinless mix between a cat and a drake. Its body was long, gangly, and so dark it seemed to blur around the edges in the shade, except for tiny points of blue on its chest and arms which seemed to form a pattern.

Without conscious thought I drew the dagger I could reach without letting go of the branch; it wasn't Soul Drinker, but my Sisterhood dagger. The creature drew as well and crossed its dagger with mine in a faint chime. Somehow it did not have to hold onto the side of the hill as it raised a familiar, long finger up to its mouth in a deliberate mimic of what I'd done to signal to Tamuril to be quiet.

My eyes hadn't been tricking me. I had seen something when I shot my crossbow.

Sweat had popped out on my forehead but I had yet to make any significant sound; I was vaguely aware of Isboern's and Tamuril's voices. Should I call for them, involve them? With our daggers braced, I noticed the one it held was familiar. Silver. Tarnished. It was a Witch Hunter's dagger.

*Summoned with silver.*

It had to be a Shae'goth. Even the blue of its eyes and mouth were like Gavin's. Jeez fuck, why was it here? Had Gavin and Mourn bartered a deal to assassinate me in my absence? I should have insisted on staying. What about Jael? Her, too?

The Shae'goth disengaged its dagger first, drawing back and looking very amused. It did seem to have some kind of belt and sash around its skeletally thin waist and from there long fingers plucked up a pale, white mask I hadn't noticed before, which it then attached to its face. I watched, stunned, almost hypnotized, as the appearance of the mask changed, taking on precise features and shades of real color.

Human. Dark eyes and hair, pale skin, somewhat familiar, delicate features. Ma'ab female. It looked a little like Vo'Traj. Or maybe like her sister, if she had one.

Maybe she did.

The Shae'goth blurred then, losing all feel of solidity and becoming incorporeal. It moved. I flinched and let go of the branch, skidding quickly down, hurting my hand as I missed one hand hold and grappled another too tightly as I tried to get more distance between me and that ghost. I looked up and around then, holding on, my dagger drawn though I knew I'd have to drop it and go for my silver one if need be.

Like before, it was gone. Just gone. I saw nothing, smelled nothing, and the feeling of something cold touching the back of my neck had receded. My heart throbbed in my ears, making it difficult to discern other subtle shifts.

*Fuck. Fuck...!*

A Shae'goth wearing a mask which looked like a Ma'ab sorceress, one I was willing to bet the Guild wanted dead.

The ritual was done, then.

I scrambled back up the hill, only now hearing the Godblood calling down.

"Sirana! Are you alright?"

"Back inside," I gasped, huffing as I realized my muscles were burning from the strain and tension of the confrontation.

"Sirana—"

"You wanted news of Manalar," I said, coming up over the edge.

Tamuril stood apart and to the side with her arms wrapped around herself; she looked calmer, but wary as she heard and saw me.

"Yes," the Knight Captain said.

"There's news. Let's go back inside."

"What about Jael? Did you find her?"

"Guild's watching her. I have a bone to pick with a certain Deathwalker."

On cue, my stomach growled and I heard a testy falcon cry overhead.

******

It was satisfying that with the speed with which I moved through the tunnels and the look on my face, no one tried to question or slow me; they just moved out of my way. I noted which of the elite teams were definitely down here and so wouldn't have been outside watching me—and now hopefully watching Jael—though it was only three who were eliminated: Nianzu, Hawk, and Pit. Add Peng Lok and Brian Wolf to that for likely still recovering from their wounds, and I'd only slimmed down the choices by a quarter.

Isboern kept up as he could with Tamuril taking half the total distance to catch up, as she had waited those few extra moments for Pilla to join her. I had reconsidered briefly whether I wanted them present, then accepted I didn't have the time or place to stall them and it may not be all bad, as Gavin had either made a very odd deal with Mourn just now or he had less control over the summoning than he suggested.

Isboern and Tamuril wouldn't stand back if something had gone wrong with my allies which led to a confrontation—if only because of my son—but I wasn't walking in with that assumption already in place. I just wanted to know what had happened, and I wanted to give them as little time as possible to think up a lie.

I banged on Gavin's door. There wasn't a ward, but the sound was oddly muffled. I saw the look on the Captain's face.

"Silence spell affecting only one side," I said. "It's warping the sound."

The Godblood nodded and said, "Allow me."

He closed his eyes, and it took all of five seconds for me to feel the spell dissipate and I heard Mourn's low voice say something as Talov replied.

"A moment," Mourn said aloud as they shifted stuff around.

*Oh, fuck, no.*

I tested the door, found it locked, and knelt to pull a few of the small tools I had from my belt. Time to see who finished first.

The mechanism was a little different from what I was used to, but it was dwarven made and there actually was something vague familiar about it. It seemed Isboern and Tamuril faded into the background as I worked on it, and I opened the door wide as soon as the lock popped, standing to put my boot out in case they tried to close it again.

I noticed the smell of extinguished candles and something else indefinable in the air first, adding to that a subtle, layered mix of sweat and blood as Isboern and Tamuril closed the door being us. I recognized Mourn's scent to be sure, and perhaps the cool tang of Gavin's blood as well. Maybe that was part of the undefined. They hadn't had time to move the desk and chairs and pallets back exactly how they had been, but most of a drawn circle had been scrubbed away.

Gavin was getting to his feet with a stiff brush in his hand, and Mourn's white spikes rose halfway up along his spine as he stepped on the few remaining symbols and his broad feet and tail hopelessly smeared them. Krithannia was on her knees, arms bracing her middle and her head down as if she was dizzy or nauseous, and Talov was breathing heavily in the nearest chair. I could hear the old dwarf's heart most clearly in the moment of silence; his was most distressed.

*What the fuck, Guildmasters?*

Pilla's irritated, high-pitched chirp startled me and hurt multiple pairs of ears who weren't expecting it, but Tamuril pushed forward past Isboern to drop next to the Guildmistress and take her by the shoulders. The falcon turned on her shoulder and spread her wings out, fluffing up the downy feathers on her head as if to make herself bigger and rattled her throat threateningly at the others.

"What happened, what have you done?" Tamuril whispered, not able to suppress the shiver down her back, though she brushed Krithannia's cheeks with her palms as if to comfort her. I noted that the dark-haired Noldor allowed it.

"I'm...I'm fine," Krithannia said, though not as strong as her voice normally was. "I'll be alright."

Isboern was looking around the entire room, including over the ceiling, his eyes wide but I wasn't sure what senses he was using then. "What just left here? It...hasn't been more than a few minutes."

"Yes, remarkable timing," Mourn commented, looking directly at me. "Any earlier and it would not have been safe."

I smiled at him, on some level comforted by the gold eyes and distinctly solid body compared to what I'd just seen. However, I resented being excluded, I hated Tamuril saying that what had happened in the crypt would happen again no matter what I did to "talk" as Talov suggested, and the leftover surge from coming face-to-face with the Shae'goth made me hungry and nauseated at the same time. There was a lingering feeling inside my limbs that threatened to make me shake. I wasn't comfortable, so why should any of them be?

More than that, though, instead of showing my unease, how would they react if I was playful instead, like I'd been with Wilsirathon? What had I said before? Fully half of gaining control of any situation was acting like I knew what the fuck I was doing. Would Surface-dwellers react any differently or were they the same?

Shifting my gaze to Gavin, I approached him. He set down the brush on the desk and turned to face me, expecting to be spoken to as he did nothing peculiar with his hands or fingers. I grabbed his chair to place it swiftly behind him, turning to take hold of his shoulders and letting my legs give so that I used all my weight to "encourage" the tall mage to sit down in it. He released only a very small grunt of surprise and landed with a heavy thump, solely because he hadn't been expecting it. I could feel how firm and dense he was which made sense as I knew what his bones looked like now.

"Sirana," he grumbled, but stopped, stiffening when I put my arms around him from behind.

I folded my gloved hands over his heart and pressed my decidedly warmer and slightly sweaty cheek up against his cooler, dry one. Smiling, I planted a light kiss, noticing his black-tipped fingers tightening against the wooden arms of the chair and a slight drop in the temperature around us. Just what did he think a kiss was going to do to him, anyway? He didn't smell remotely Human anymore though nor did he smell like a rotting corpse, but just... "other," as if he came from some place far away. Given the dangers of his blood, I could be glad his flesh did not feel parchment-thin beneath my lips.

"Gavin, do you and I still have an agreement?" I asked sweetly, nuzzling my ear and cheek against him. I could feel his heart beneath my hands—it had picked up a bit—and I heard him breathing, steady and deep. Those were two things the Shae'goth definitely didn't do.