Surfacing Ch. 25

I shook my head, feeling my spiders rearrange themselves beneath my hair. "Fuck it. I don't see how I'll need any of it here."

"That's just it, you never know! What about used them just as outdoor tools like Rausery taught us?"

"I have one boot dagger and one in my bracer. Happy?"

"No. How are you going to make a snare or shoot something to eat if you're separated for any reason?"

"I've survived on less, Jael."

"Not while pregnant!"

"I might support Sirana favor practicing her newer skills," Gavin cut in, in the process of unwrapping his Ma'ab servants. "As should you."

Jael gave him a nasty look, but Gavin ignored it and opened his mouth again.

"Logically, none of us would refuse searching for her if she vani—."

"No one asked you, death-talker! You don't understand Red Sister training!"

I clutched my head, and my spiders chimed in sympathy for the headache.

Mourn didn't get involved, he simply kept filling and patting down the dirt before setting a few stones on top. When he finished, he stood up and hushed his breath toward us. "Peace. Please." He stooped to lift Graul into his arms. "They are coming. To the fore of the cave."

"Be with you in a moment," Gavin said, pulling out a knucklebone and touching fingertips lightly to the carvings he made on one of the ribcages.

I moved forward but kept looking back as Gavin's blue magic snaked over the bones. As much as I should have been looking out, with the fire at my back to let my eyes adjust so I might see the Wilder coming, I was a curious idiot and looked straight at the fire to watch Gavin's skeletons reform themselves, bones attaching end-to-end, one at a time, until three skeletal bodies stretched out upon their backs. Then they sat up and got to their feet.

Fuck, the Ma'ab males were still big, even without the flesh. Standing aside Night-mare, anyone creeping into this cave would get an unpleasant surprise.

I heard an owl hooting, and I looked out again; I couldn't see anything, my dark vision was shot for the moment, but I strained my ears for light footsteps. I picked up just one or two before Mourn stepped forward and crouched at the edge, preparing to climb down as he shifted Graul onto his shoulder and the smiling, whiskered beast hooked himself into the harness.

"Do we come with?" Jael asked.

"I'll call you. Wait for now."

Mourn and Graul eventually disappeared from our sight, even from dark vision, but he was not in a hurry. Jael and I shared a glance and I could see her worry.

*He seems certain they'll take us in,* she signed. *What if they refuse?*

Good question. They might refuse in any combination of ways: no Drow, or not both; no necromancer, no Roh'ghast. Certainly no undead mare and no Ma'ab skeletons. But they had accepted Gaelan from Mourn, and in a very short time. Why? Was it only because she was sick? Had they known that more Drow might come for her, or had they figured the only one who might return on her behalf was Mourn?

Why were they here? Why were they hiding from Cris-ri-phon? Moreover, what did Mourn know about the Archmage and the Wilder, and was that why he hated the sorcerer so? What had happened? I wanted to know so badly, and yet from the whisper of sound I caught from out in the dark now and again, from the amount of time we waited for something to happen, I occurred to me that Mourn's deliberate and unhurried speech—in most cases, when not in the center of a fight—could have been something he learned here. From them.

I had to refocus my breathing as impatience swelled inside me again and again, needing to be punched back down.

Come on. Where was he?

"Sirana. Jael. Gavin."

My chest loosened up in relief. That was the call we'd been waiting for. Gavin picked up a pack into which he'd redistributed his essentials, leaving more of it here behind the skeletons, intending to join us but not before pouring dirt to smother the fire on his way by. The night rushed in and we all welcomed it as we left the cave to follow Mourn's voice, turning slightly to the North.

A few giant trees blocked sight of the cave before I realized we were surrounded. The ones behind us drifted into my senses making no sound, their scent blending in and they were camouflaged from view when they went still. It was just the bit of movement and a sense of being watched which gave them away. Most were on the ground, a few up high.

We kept moving toward Mourn as soon as we saw him; he stood with two Wilder: Tsah, and the female whom the hybrid had mentioned, the one resembling a grey hawk. I couldn't tell if her eyes were red but presumed they were just from her body language—alert, a female not to be challenged—and the strange sharpness of her features. She was only slightly shorter than Tsah, though Mourn towered over both of them.

Her banded, light-and-dark-colored hair at first glance did indeed remind me of Pilla's neatly layered feathers, and the way she turned her head toward us was very much like a raptor scanning for the movement of prey. Her ears are somewhat longer than mine. I wasn't sure about her skin color in dark vision—it was a dusty "in-between," darker than Gavin and Tamuril, but nothing close as dark as Mourn or the Drow.

Unlike the nude mimic next to her, the hawk-Elf was dressed modestly. She wore a dappled, white and grey dress of... what I had to guess was animal hide—but a very soft, flexible one. The dress was one piece, cut to reveal an elegant neck and forearms, cinched at a trim waist with a matching sash decorated with woven patterns of some kind, and the skirt reached just past her knees. She was barefoot and stood with a leader's confidence. In a way, she reminded me of Innathi on her pyramid.

The three of them watched us approach. I had no idea what to expect, or how to engage. Forgetting the previous rules was one thing, but then what do we do? All we really could do was stop and wait once we came within easy speaking distance.

The female cocked her head one way, then straightened it with a deliberate nod of acknowledgement. She placed her palm over her heart. "Iethys."

Barely a beat passed before Mourn suggested, "Say her name."

Alright, names were good.

"Ee-ah-theez?" I tried.

"Ei-eh-theez," she corrected.

It sounded almost like Innathi. Or a derivative, maybe. Each of us was required to repeat it. Gavin had it easiest, as he heard it three times before he was required to say it. Then it was our turn.

I mimicked the hand gesture. "Sirana."

So did Jael, speaking her name. Gavin opted not to raise his hand but he mimicked the nod instead and said, "Gavin."

Iethys' deep-colored eyes seemed larger than ours, just a bit, and she did that bird-shift again as she looked between us, repeating, "Seer-ah-nah. Ju-hal. Gah-veen."

"Zsahll," Jael corrected, and the Wilder bowed her head with dignity and repeated it more accurately.

She looked to Gavin and me next, light grey eyebrows lifting in inquiry. We were both alright with the pronunciation. Close enough, just with an accent.

Next she stepped very close, staring at us straight in the eye, one at a time as she paused in front of each in turn. Her gaze was penetrating and swift in whatever it sought; none of us looked away, and this seemed to be the correct answer this time.

"You here for sister," Iethys stated to Jael and me.

"Yes," I said.

She hummed, standing to observe Gavin, much closer than he was comfortable, I knew. "And you, pale man?"

"Their guide," Gavin said.

The Wilder frowned. "To'vah-krav is their guide."

"One kind of guide," I interjected. "Gavin has been my guide for many, many weeks."

The hawk-Elf's thin mouth twisted with amusement. "Cannot guide here."

Gavin straightened up a bit, showing more of his height. "Their sister is near death. I am a Deathwalker. I may yet guide further."

I didn't care for the assumption that Gaelan was "near death," and maybe Gavin was fibbing a bit—as we both knew he didn't guide Elves—but this proved a much harder-hitting shock than either of us were expecting. I instantly forgave Gavin, for giving us this revelation.

Iethys's stoic defense crumbled in surprise and I heard her heart leap; the response was genuine. Even being an Elf, this claim matter to her.

"No more Deathwalkers," she hissed. "All gone!"

"And yet I stand before you as one," he replied.

Iethys raked her eyes over him and considered; her eyes had the impression of being quite red now. "You are undeath maker."

"True. Also servant of Nyx, the Grey Maiden."

"Prove." She stamped one foot to punctuate the demand, and somehow it did not come across as petulant but persuasive. "Prove holy man, not soul robber."

Iethys crossed her arms and stood straight, still, and waiting; her face was set in a hard frown. Fear was not her driving force here, nor was superstition. She knew more about this, more even then Krithannia - who had only books and old scrolls. This was why we all watched Gavin seriously and waited for what he would chose to do. He understood its importance as well - prove his service and alliance, and he may learn more about himself and his relationship to Miurag in a way Nyx could not—or would not— tell him.

Of course, as far as being a "soul robber," I knew he *could* consume souls if he wanted, just as the Ma'ab did. I had seen what he had done to Vo'Traj. But it was not a diet of addiction, as far as I'd seen, as it was for the Ma'ab elite. Not yet, anyway.

My longest Surface companion considered this challenge very carefully, looking down toward the ground although I did not think he was focused on anything particular. I expected him to reach for his small carving blade at his waist and roll up his sleeve, that was no surprise, and I wondered whether his cutting himself to show the color of his blood would be convincing enough?

He did not simply damage skin for show, however; first he mixed something powdery from a pouch - it could have been ground bone or dried organs, for all I knew—with a small bit of soil for which he stooped to collect near the Wilder's bare feet. He did cut himself to bleed, but we watched as he collected the dark, thick substance which flowed in his veins onto the flat of his blade and smeared into the powder on his palm to create a paste. The shallow cut began to close immediately, and Iethys watched every step but so far wasn't convinced.

Gavin wasn't finished. He tucked his blade back and I notice that not one drop of his blood had fallen to the ground. He used the pad of his middle finger to collect some of the paste and create symbols on his pale, just-healed arm, which made a good canvas for drawing his pictures. He spoke a few words of the Greyland language I had first heard as he slept fitfully, the distant echo seeping into the chant and his strange eyes turning solid black. I was used to this, but it caused both Iethys and Tsah to take a step back. There was a surge of tension and subtle motion around us and Iethys immediately made a sign to stay whatever action the watchers had been about to pull.

The temperature dropped around us, and I saw gooseflesh rise all over Tsah as he hugged himself and his scrotum tightened against the cold. My belly flared with heat in response, and—interestingly, so did Mourn. Jael eased her feet more in his direction without seeming to realize it, certainly drawn to his heat.

Gavin gazed only at the symbols on his arm, his aura collecting tightly about him, and after a significant wait, he spoke in Common.

"Eleven lights flicker and dance around the final flame. They gather warmth from this flame even as they hide its light from those that would seek it for themselves. Should this flame be extinguished then twelve shall be lost and wandering in your lands."

A thought had struck Iethys, I could tell; she recognized something in this very Nyx-like description.

Gavin's eyes faded back to reveal his ice-blue pupils again as he spoke his final words. "Though you call this flame sister, she is no Wilder by birthright."

The Elf swallowed, took another step back and turned to look at Mourn accusingly. "Uncu'therah?"

Mourn shook his head in the negative and made a sign near his chest which reminded me of Isboern making an oath. "Noh. Reifoek gehrah."

"You not mention a Deathwalker," the hawk-Elf said, switching suddenly in Common.

"No scheme, Inhula'vey," Mourn replied humbly. "Better he introduce himself."

The wait was a long one as she absorbed this. She wanted to pace, I could tell, but perhaps decided not to appear so anxious right before she made her decision.

"You still speak for them?" she asked.

"I do, Inhula'vey. They have purpose here."

"They cannot be see enter."

"I understand."

Iethys nodded sharply, turned her gaze again like an abrupt attack. "Negotiate the manners."

The manners? Our manners, maybe. The rules, I supposed. Alright.

After a pause, I realized she waited for suggestions. Odd. Did not the hostess establish the rules? How would we know which behavior was insulting in a place we had never been?

"State your intent," Mourn offered.

"Iethys already said it," Jael replied.

Mourn and the hawk-Elf had the same expression: stern, steady patience. They would wait on us, as long as it took.

"Jael and I come to see the state of our sister," I began.

Iethys nodded once. "And?"

And. These weren't exactly "manners," were they?

"And take her with us when we leave."

She replied quickly. "We bring her to you now. You may take."

Jael turned her head to me and smiled. "We could do that, right? Not go in, save some time."

I glanced at Gavin, and his face reflected my own suspicion with the wording. We were being tested.

"We can, if you wish to be hauling another body," he said negatively.

This was not something he protested on its own principle, of course; what really bothered him was that he would not stay long enough to learn what the Wilder knew about Deathwalkers.

"No," I said to Iethys, "you only bring her to us if she is healed from her illness."

Iethys nodded once; she spoke bluntly. "If not?"

Oh, I did not like that response. Jael absorbed the meaning and tightened her fist; Iethys noted it and the tension in her rose like Pilla's scruff when irritated.

Jael demanded, "What do you mean?"

"You heal entrewpi?" the Wilder challenged her.

She squinted in confusion. "Heal what?"

Iethys shook her head. "No revenge from unknowing and blame. Or you never leave this forest."

*Goddess, no...*

"You can try to—!" Jael began belligerently, but I gripped her shoulder hard.

"Is Gaelan alive or not?" I demanded, forcing my voice low and level. "Are you telling us she is dead?"

"Not dead," Iethys said. "Not healed. In sleep."

I squeezed Jael's shoulder again to warn her to silence as we each grabbled with our temper.

"Describe 'entrewpi,'" I said. "Please."

The Wilder looked concerned, and a bit sympathetic. "Cannot."

"Like a coma?"

Iethys looked confused and finally turned to Mourn for guidance, who watched us all, patient and unreadable. She said something to him in her tongue but he shook his head.

"Pir'oco ingawah," he said with a gesture out toward her, and then slightly above her head. He spoke further, Graul churring in agreement, and the Wilder sighed, looking sorrowful.

"Not all accept change," she said in Common.

"We cannot stop this," he replied, looking at Jael and me, clearly speaking for our benefit. "I am now well known to many enemies, I will tell you of it. The Deathwalker is here as a herald of old. You did not kill Gaelan when I left her with you. Furuc would have, correct? You defended the helpless."

Iethys sighed again but nodded.

"You have accepted change already, Inhula'vey. Allow them in."

She grunted, raising a silvery eyebrow at him. "Wilder accept change with you, Moryxxyleth. Telling Furuc for tens of years. Every step a threat to him."

"I understand. I am glad it was you who came to us now."

Neither of them had needed to have that conversation in Common, and we all knew this. The obvious lesson: This could have gone a lot worse. All three of us kept our mouth shut as we waited. I had the feeling there were many more decisions that Iethys was making in her head, right before my eyes, ones with which she must come to terms before she would take the final step. It must be like deciding whether or not to enter battle with later withdrawal being impossible.

"Will Deathwalker bring his Yuli-ya?" she asked Gavin, and he frowned in confusion while Tsah smiled. Only then did Iethys clarify, "Your air beast."

"If you wish," he replied.

She nodded in a way which implied thanks, exchanged a hand signal with Tsah, who nodded affirmative, and she said, "You handle her, Tsah rides with you as guide."

Gavin nodded, but commented in a familiar tone, "Interesting."

I tried not to smile too much. Interesting, as in: he hoped this would not be worse than riding with Jael.

Iethys turned to Jael and me. "Allow Tovah-krav to make you sleep? Some Wilder hostile, will make my argue better if you enter sleep."

"What?" Jael blurted. "Us but not Gavin?"

"He is shaman. He enter in holy service. You do not. Please, allow."

Asleep? And defenseless. We looked at Mourn with our own consternation clear on our faces. He smiled, as did Graul.

"I asked if you trusted me. The Wilder are not trained assassins and I am still bodyguard for you both, and your spiders will remain alert, Sirana. No harm will come to you."

Now our heartbeats picked up quite a bit, and my babies shifted from within my hair in response; I breathed out to settle the tremble in my belly. Maybe not Guild-level assassins, but animals had their own sets of stealth skills and I wondered briefly if Mourn could anticipate every one of them. Particularly from this mentioned Wilder, Furuc, who sounded like a load of fun.

Fuck.

"Alright. Make it quick," I said.

Jael kept her lips tight but nodded, signing the same. Make it quick, before we could think longer on it.

The last thing I saw was a familiar pair of golden eyes, and I heard a Word from a shared memory what seemed so long ago. I recalled touching my poor Gaelan's sweaty brow to put her to sleep, as Mourn now touched mine.

"Vdri."

******

I wasn't sure where I expected to wake up: in a cave, or a primitive shelter built of wood, plant, and stone up in the trees? I could've been in either place now or upon the forest floor for all I knew. The inside was not what I expected and gave me no real hint what was outside right now. At first I was in complete darkness, my dark vision only beginning to make out curves when I heard Mourn's soft whisper and a single, palm-sized, polished stone lit up in a very gentle, orange light.

I sat up slowly, half-expecting to be naked but I was still in my pants and shirt, at least. My cloak, armor, boots, and bracers had been removed. It was the same for Jael, though she was also missing her tool belt and weapons, including the double blade from Manalar's crypt.

Jael and I had been bundled together in a warm, stuffed mattress and covered in soft fur. The mattress was round and placed dead center in a round room; the scent which puffed up to my nostrils when I shifted—other than my Sister's warm, welcome fragrance—made me think again of birds, and I saw a tiny, down feather poking up through a seam in the hide. The fur blanket was soft and white on the underside; the coat was a strange, dappled mix of darker browns and lighter reds of medium length and incredible density. I had no idea what animal on the Surface had a coat like this.

The natural material into which we been tucked was both basic and fine quality. I meant that as, despite being able to see exactly from which materials it had been made—a trait of the "primitive" and "base" races, according to the rules back home— the care and attention to detail I felt in the strength and texture of this bedding reflected a mastery of the craft, implying methods which would take decades or centuries for my own people to figure out, with or without magic.