Surfacing Ch. 21

To my relief, her spell was full strength and designed to hold the larger races of the Surface. As she had done to me, vines burst from the soil beneath their boots. First they tangled hopelessly with the second chain, thorns grappling with metal spikes, before twisting and strangling around the targets' arms and wrists and legs. I wondered that they had not first caught the throat as they had with me, but maybe Tamuril was more focused on the weapons in their hands.

I was doubly disappointed to see that the thorns did not make them bleed. Mourn had been right, the skin was very tough.

My pendant was too warm now to warn me much of anything, but I did hear a familiar croaking that sounded like it might turn into a vomit.

"Circle behind them!" I said as I braced myself with the boot and wrenched the Ma'ab dagger out of the tree to free the Druid.

Dammit, they could still turn their heads! I pitched the heavy dagger at one of them because I didn't have time to reload the crossbow. The pommel struck him in the face but it was possible his roar of pain and anger only enhanced his spell because the projection of that foul slop spewing from his throat to paint the ground in a line had nearly reached the headless corpse of his brother.

Tamuril and I barely pitched ourselves out of reach and scrambled to get up and behind the two tangled Hellhounds before they could try something else. The black line immediately overwhelmed the area with its scent and though I tried I could not keep from becoming sick as I abruptly lost my next attack to heave into the grass and leaves. I felt only slightly less ridiculous when the Druid followed in my wake, retching herself. My nostrils stung from the pungent scent and I watched baffling wisps of vapor rising up from the soil and the mulch where the black sludge stained the ground. I could only imagine what would happen if that stuff should touch skin.

*Ssirranna...Use me! Use ME NOW!*

I groaned as Soul Drinker shrilled in my mind and my hand closed over the hilt, but before I had a chance to reply Mourn was there, too.

*Sirana, update –*

*Get OUT!*

I felt for one sliver of a moment that the relic tried to seize in that connection, tried to speak to the hybrid, and in a panic I pitched a second dagger at the thrashing mass of vines and limbs. As when I had somehow gotten Gavin and myself free of the link, I pitched it hard, simply to get it away from me, away from us. Soul Drinker spun end over end, aimed squarely at the back of the Hellhound who still gripped his chain, and somehow penetrated that armor as if it had been mere spider silk.

The large body jerked in shock, his bald, tattooed head tilting up toward the Sky as he screamed a sound which reminded me of a Drider: in agony, insane, and insatiably furious with his fate. I could not know for certain if this Hellhound would burst releasing plague or not, but his body began to seize uncontrollably and I didn't know what was happening.

"Run!" I shouted, giving Tamuril's arm a slap to knock her out of her momentary stupor hearing that Abyssal cry, but focused wholly on getting myself away, as far away as quickly as possible.

I still had to protect my baby.

It was that drive, as well as every instinct I had ever honed in the Underdark, which allowed me to react just fast enough to avoid running straight into the arms of a third Hellhound. I didn't have time to warn the Druid and her reflexes were not quite good enough so he caught her instead. I heard her cry out in pain but I wasn't sure what happened as the very familiar sound of a launched spiked chain came straight for me from yet another angle.

A fourth Hellhound.

Fucking Pech shit.

*Mourn, four –!*

*Coming. Stay alive.*

*Tamuril –*

*I know. Isboern can feel it. If you can distract the attacker, do it.*

If it were not for all the trees those chains would've caught me; they were most effective out in the open, in battle or inside a structure, as I had first seen them used. A good thing they were not the most effective forest weapon I could think of. I had gained distance from the third Hellhound crushing Tamuril and out of my periphery I saw him slam her down hard to the ground as the fourth one snapped hard at my heels. Using his chain, he blocked me coming around a third tree, swinging down hard straight into the ground, gouging a deep line in the dirt at my feet.

"Gonna rape you," he hissed in accented Common with a chuckle, his grin exaggerated to the point I recognized the scare tactic for what it was.

It would've worked on Tamuril, but I grinned back. Drow could look plenty strange when we grinned, if we wanted to. And I wanted to.

"Not if I rape you first, doggie. Do you howl in delight when all your brothers pierce your shit hole?"

Admirably, he dropped the tactic after a single, bewildered blink and focused entirely on preventing me from assisting the Druid in any way.

At least, in any way that might help preserve my sight.

I had no choice but to blind us both with a perfectly silent light filling the small hollow, set off with a word and centered right in between our locked gaze.

It hurt like twin nails driven into my eye sockets and I would see nothing for a good long time, but at least I still had my ears and everything else.

By contrast his stumble confirmed the fourth Hellhound couldn't react like me without his eyes, he had not been prepared. I sprinted straight toward the nearest struggle and Tamuril's whimpers; though I was blind, I could tell that third Hellhound had straightened up from how he was a moment ago, realizing that something had changed and probably wondering where that bright light had come from. He was on his knees, the perfect height for me to try to slit his throat.

Although without Soul Drinker to cut through protective magic, I couldn't be sure that it would work. Even Tamuril's thorny vines had pressed deeply into the skin but had not broken it no matter how they squeezed. I would do better to ram my dagger up beneath his armor at the small of his back and try to sever those seven wavy lines; I had earned the knowledge of that weak spot, I knew exactly where it was.

I would be a fool not to use it.

I tossed my hand crossbow to the side as I drew one of my Red Sister blades, angling it pointed out and up and gripped with both hands as I charged the Hellhound attacking Tamuril. My ears and every instinct I had adjusted for his movement as he made to turn around just before I made contact; gritting my teeth I twisted slightly to shove my dagger into the chink of armor I sought solely by feel. I felt it catch then go in and I sawed viciously through cloth and at the skin beneath.

Once, twice. A third hard jab before I yanked it out with a fourth rip.

His grunt of pain mixed with the blonde Elf's cry for help nearly distracted me from a very strange pulse in the blue gem around my neck. What did that mean? Had it worked? Was his skin normal now?

I had too little time to act against the fourth Hellhound coming quick behind me or the one kneeling over Tamuril but swinging at me. The sound of a four-legged body propelling itself impossibly fast toward an impending collision meant I could only get out of the way from all three strikes happening simultaneously.

As near as I could tell without my eyes, Mourn in his quadruped form crashed into the fourth Hellhound behind me and sent him rolling with good momentum down the slope. At the same moment, Jael had jumped off his back and with only a grunt she landed what sounded like a perfect spear thrust through the vulnerable throat of the third Hellhound as he had risen to his feet.

When had Jael gotten a spear?

The big body landed heavily beside Tamuril and she yelped, gasping for breath before halting to sudden stop the next instant, and she and I both realized she must have a broken rib or two. I heard something heavy snap several thick branches and then Mourn's growl moving toward it almost in a blink.

"Sirana?" Jael probably waved her hand in front of my face and she spoke in Drow. "Can you see me?"

I shook my head, knowing that my eyes stared blankly at her. "Nope."

"Well, damn." She kicked the body.

"There are two just over the rise and three more unaccounted for," I said.

"Yeah, the slant-eyes are keeping watch."

"Yungian."

"Yes, that." She paused as I heard something like raindrops hitting the forest floor off to my right. "Fuck. Too bad you can't see what Mourn just did to the one about to jump you."

"I will in a bit, I'm seeing spots now. A nice aim yourself. Where did you find the spear?"

I wished I could see the grin that I sensed.

"Tell you later, when you can see. Mourn is signing to go check on the other two."

"I left Soul Drinker there, be careful."

"I will."

Jael paused just long enough to let me know that she had looked at Tamuril and understood I was asking for a moment alone. I thought it was a good sign that she wasn't completely oblivious to subtle hints.

As Mourn and Jael left to confirm the last two kills, I knelt down beside Tamuril without stepping on her. It took removing one of my gloves and touching her lightly from forehead to her cheek and jaw down her throat to get a hint of her condition as she stayed extraordinarily quiet, holding it in to lessen the draw to the wounded.

She sweated heavily and as I breathed in it smelled very sour; her heart pounded in her throat at an incredibly fast speed as if she was still being attacked. I did not scent any open wounds aside from the dead Hellhound, but I could taste a lot of pain in the air around the Noldor; I heard it in the way she chose not to speak but would wet her mouth and try to swallow, and try to breathe. Most of her injuries were probably internal and she couldn't stand.

I had a healing vial that would get her to her feet quickly, but I only had one of those and there were still at least a dozen Hellhounds at Manalar. What if I needed it myself later on to save my life? Mourn or Isboern could heal her, right?

"Are you going to live?" I asked.

"Ye –"

Her voice hitched to stop and a squeak of pain slipped out, but it was good enough for me. Yes. It sounded a lot stronger than when I had asked her a similar question back at her hovel.

I squeezed her shoulder as the Godblood would, but gently just in case there was a bruise there, and listened as Mourn and Jael took care of the entwined Hellhounds just across the way, waiting for my vision to come back fully.

"That is five of eight," I murmured.

She might have nodded. "Th— thank you... for not... leaving."

She might have meant right now, for me staying with her until the job was finished. Or she might have meant she could have expected me to run away and leave her to struggle against the Hellhound alone. I considered it a test of nerves and skill to dance with one enemy while setting up to attack another; I was good at evasion and attacks from behind. But it remained so that I had a motive other than pride to give it a try, and that was...

Well. Perhaps something similar to Jaunda. She never left Red Sisters to die...though my muscular Lead probably would never expand that definition to include a Noldor. Particularly the one that she had punished personally for trespassing.

The Guild leader saved me from having to think of a reply, for which I struggled anyway, as he and Jael came up to us quickly. He kneeled to give Tamuril quick assessment as well.

"Blink once for yes, twice for no," he said. "Understood?"

After a pause, he asked, "Does it hurt here?"

Pause.

"Here?"

Another pause.

"And here." He rumbled softly. "Sirana, may we use one of your pellets?"

My first impulse was to ask why he needed any of my resources at all, could not he just cast a spell...?

Although the only one I had seen heal without any sort of magical component or potion had been Isboern. I remembered what had felt like when Mourn told me he would "enhance" the pellet I had already taken to help against the bruises left by the Witch Hunters. Even when he healed Peng lok, one of the dwarves had held a small bottle for the Yungian to drink before Mourn got started.

I didn't actually know *how* the half-blood's healing magic worked or what he required, and now was not the time to argue; we could be ambushed or harried again at any moment and we had to get Tamuril on her feet. We could not carry her back to the bunker to be healed; we might as well simply lead Divigna and his dogs straight to the Godblood and open the door for them.

I pulled one of Shyntre's pellets from my pouch after that one moment's hesitation and carefully slid my gloved hand – with the knucklebone still wedged inside – beneath her head to raise it up slightly. Next I used Tamuril's uneven breathing to find her lips with my ungloved hand. Hot, moist air slid crossed the back of my hand as my fingertips barely rested on her bottom lip; she opened her mouth willingly and I pushed the medicinal pill beneath her tongue.

"Let it dissolve," I whispered, wiping my fingers dry on her cloak and blinking my eyes as my vision became blotchy. It would remain so long before it would regain clarity.

Jael and I stood up to listen around us for any warning of approach as I could see in my mind's eye Mourn crouched over the Pale Elf, gently cupping her jaw between his large hands as he murmured his Draconic words. The pulse of magic was clear to me, warming my blue stone against my chest and forcing me to smile when I heard Tamuril's involuntary coo of relief. Perhaps even pleasure. The pain inside would disappear soon.

"We must leave this area as soon as you are able," Mourn said to her then lifted his head and spoke to me. "Soul Drinker is still inside the one Hellhound, Sirana, please reclaim it."

Right.

Jael walked with me without being asked, though I did not need her to watch over me until my sight cleared. I knew well enough how to place my feet so I didn't stumble or trip over tree roots, or worse, bump nose-first right into a tree trunk. Elder Rausery had only spent the first several weeks on the Surface teaching us to do exactly this; she would not be pleased had I not been paying attention.

Soul Drinker I could sense even had I not been able to smell the bodies and the blood. A contented wave of welcome swept over me as I got closer and it did not have to speak inside my head for me to know it was happy for me to take its hilt and tug it steadily out of the flesh. I recalled there was not a lot of visible, absorbent cloth on the Hellhounds to use to wipe it off; most of it was hard leather and metal-studded bracers and boots. I opted to use one of my own cloths, giving it a cautious sniff to make sure it was not as caustic as their bile. It seemed normal.

*Ssseee...?*

It was as I handled Soul Drinker, cleaned it, and eventually sheathed it that the spots before my eyes faded and my vision began to clear. I was not sure at what the relic wanted me to look; if it was bragging, I could clearly see the gaping hole in the Hellhound's back, almost seeming to have seared open the armor as the edges were tinged with something black, but it was just as clear that the other had been beheaded by Mourn's slider. The spiked chain was still hopelessly wrapped in the Druid's wooden trap and neither of these bodies were going to be extricated without some dedicated woodcraft.

I blinked my eyes to wet them some more as I slowly stood up, finally looking at Jael.

I stared.

She had been looking around but sensed my gaze then made eye contact. Realizing I could focus on her again, she smiled excitedly as she held out the double blade that Mourn had taken from the crypt, presenting it by the wide grip in the middle. I had never seen that particular style of molded leather as I saw in that grip, nor did I recognize the pattern of fine, gold thread both embroidering and somehow fixing several small, bluish-white stones formed into a curve like a new Moon.

I would've said that, if it had been fashioned for a Human male, it might be comfortably wielded using one arm, assuming the arm was very strong. In my little Sister's hands, it would be a two-handed weapon but the grip was more than wide enough to allow it, and she seemed delighted just holding it.

That was the "spear" that she had stuck through the Hellhound's throat.

"I thought Mourn claimed that for his hoard," I said with half a smile.

"I am borrowing it," she said cheekily.

"For how long?"

"Anytime I ride on Mourn's back. He is the best war mount a Drow could want."

"Don't let him hear you," I chuckled.

Her teeth were very white in her dark face. "It was his idea."

"And you love it."

"I wish there was time for a quick fuck right now."

I would have gladly followed her mind right in that direction except that I sensed Mourn lifting Tamuril carefully to her feet at my periphery. I tossed my head in that direction, indicating Jael should follow me back. My eyes swept the area and I noted the pieces of Hellhound just before I saw the fourth one Mourn had attacked impaled on a broken tree branch, disturbingly similar to how the half-blood had first threatened to do to Jael before he stopped her in midair.

I had to assume that the four-legged Mourn had ripped up the tattoo on the small of the back before he proceeded to maul the Ma'ab properly, even probably before the momentum had slowed when they clashed. Several pieces of equipment and flesh led in a trail straight to the tree holding the body and the pile of guts just below his boots. Now I knew why it had sounded for a moment like it was raining.

The last body I checked was Tamuril's; she looked shaken but determined to stand on her own once she stepped back from Mourn. Marks on her face were fading quickly and I did not notice significant tearing in her clothing or any dislodged armor, despite the Hellhound looming over her on his knees. I almost had to think during those long moments before I had a chance to break away, the Ma'ab was probably using his massive fists exclusively. Perhaps he planned to beat her until he had broken every bone in her body.

As I considered that further... it was kind of an interesting response. She was pale skinned, like him, though I knew the Ma'ab could not have many blondes in their population, if any. She was clearly not Human, and she was a sorceress – for lack of a better term – but he did not attempt to capture her alive. He would have known that she was the one who not only called the vines to capture the first two, but also had cast the spell in the battlefield to the West in which they had found their warrior brother later infested with those same vines from the inside out.

So he... pounded her until she could barely speak to me? Why did he not stab her, or behead her, or choke her with the spiked chain or with his hands? He could have used anything with a sharp edge if he did not plan on taking her prisoner or stripping her naked for sexual torture, and he was more than strong enough to break her neck. By comparison, the one attacking me had tried to ensnare me with sharp chains and threatened to rape me – although that could easily have just been battle talk.

I stepped up to the Druid, touching her elbow which somehow got her to look at me without my having to ask. Her green eyes were wet and haunted but that returned spirit that followed after her healing in the bath was still there.

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked quietly. "Anything at all?"

Tamuril blinked and looked off to the side. "Nothing I could understand."

"So he did say something in Ma'ab? A few words? Something he said more than once, or a constant stream of babble?"

The blonde looked at Mourn as she might have if Krithannia had been here; he nodded gently at her and it seemed to give her strength as she looked back at me. "He only spoke once. It was very brief. I'm afraid I can't estimate the sounds. I'm sorry."