Surfacing Ch. 28

The Tilabil paused as if inviting questions...so I took it.

"You said there was only one left among the Drow," I said, and Rennyn shifted his attention to me, encouraging. "Are there any left among the Noldor?"

Rennyn shook his head, answering me plainly. *Their path led them to shed lengthy weapons training quickly. The Baenari held on longer, and still do, but the Spider Goddess and their Queen have no patience to invest in such long, unflagging focus.*

"How long?" Jael asked Mourn.

"All the time I was with my mother's family," he answered.

So...about a century plus a decade, from what I recalled from his memories.

"That doesn't seem so long," I said.

*Correct,* Rennyn picked up. *Elves will take two hundred years or more for normal blades, longer with something like the sliders favored by our son's Grandmaster. This is where the Dragonbloods show their power early on, though it is never backed with the wisdom of their elders. Whether Moryxxyleth's Grandmaster knew this or not, he did not have the time remaining to withhold the final transference, else the skill disappear from the Underdark entirely.*

We waited. And the "final transference" was...?

*To learn how to make their own blade,* the Tilabil said, *and in our son's case, to inherit the Grandmaster's blade as well.*

I wasn't the only one to look carefully at the sliders on Mourn's back, and both he and Rennyn smiled while Iethys and Nioah shared a private, amused look as Furuc crossed his arms and smirked. I didn't know was so funny, but other than the weapons being unusual, they didn't look like anything nearly as special or even as old as the double-blade on Jael's back which he was "loaning" her from his hoard.

*Those are not his first blades, his master's and the one he made in the Underdark,* Rennyn finally explained. *Those are the ones developed as his Guild first gained power, as we asked that he surrender his first set until the Witch Hunters had seen their time come to an end.*

I thought back to the fire story, the first one of Mourn leaving Krithannia and Talov in great anger and frustration as the theocracy of Manalar and the rise of the Witch Hunters gained momentum. Other than slaughtering them all, just as he had done to the previous Lord's family which had allowed them to come to being the first place, he could do nothing about it. He ran North and found the great Dire Bear mad with the infection of Chaos and he attacked, let out all his remaining anger, defeated it only with crippling injury to himself.

But maybe the half-blood had deserved it, Mourn had thought at the time. Such use of his power upon first gaining the Guild at the death of another half-Dragon, and he had disrupted the Human worlds between Augran and Manalar by himself every bit as much as an entire Ma'ab army's victorious campaign.

*We met Moryxxyleth when the guiding siblings brought him to us,* Rennyn said. *We heard his story. We welcomed him. When every argument he presented for what he had done could not be laid to rest in his own mind, we offered him a solution: that he divest himself of the weapons and tactics given to him by his family and he rebuild them to be better suited to the challenges he had made for himself upon the surface of Miurag.*

The Tilabil finally bowed his head and opened the small, simple box. *As I said at the very first, there is no doubt, he has earned them back. So we present them to you, dear son, with trust and in support of your greater wisdom. May these return to the Baenari without the shadow of the Underdark clinging to everything they touch.*

It was still a grand speech, all things considered, and I heard the low, powerful double-lub of Mourn's heart as Rennyn open the box. Those of us standing "as witness" were a little confused...

There was only a set of wide-band charm bracelets inside, made of a smoke-black metal with minimal shine. They didn't even match. The charms were odd, angular shapes...

Mourn nodded his head at some subtle signal that I had missed and he slipped off the matching, gold rings he wore on the middle finger of each hand, placing them in Rennyn's open palm as he balanced the box in his other. Then the hybrid stripped off his harness and detached the sliders which had been in his possession from the moment I'd seen him dropping from the trees. The sliders he handed, level and with both hands, over to Furuc, the harness set aside for the moment on the grass.

No more grand words as Mourn reached to take the bracelets, and just as I wondered how in the Abyss he would get them over his big knuckles onto his wrists, I watched as the bracelets themselves adjusted as necessary, not only for him to be able to put them on but to close down just snug enough around his wrists where they wouldn't get caught on anything or slip up and down his forearms.

"Um, very nice?" Jael asked without actually asking.

"Would you like a demonstration?" Mourn asked.

"Yes, please," I said, just then noticing that the charms were specific, individual weapons...and it hit me.

*Oh fucking Hell.*

Mourn backed up, tail lashing excitedly, and turned so that he wasn't actually aiming at any of us when he suddenly had an enormous crossbow in his left hand, ready to fire, and a long dirk in the other. Next, he changed them—they just puffed out of sight and were replaced by a bladed polearm, shorter than those I'd seen before in Yong-wen but the same design, and a chain whip unlike either the Drow or Ma'ab design, but shiny and clean, without barbs or jagged hooks—only a biting point at the tip of the last link.

Then with, at most, a flick of his tongue behind his teeth, as I couldn't hear any command or see a recognizable gesture, the polearm and whip disappeared and he the next moment gripped a long bow and quiver instead. The bow was sized for him; only an extremely strong arm could even pull it. Based on the fletches and length of the quiver, those were also the biggest arrows I'd ever seen and couldn't imagine being struck by one... impaled straight through and probably pinned to the stone!

Lastly, he shifted and called to him two sliders of similar size to the one's I'd known before, but the decoration of the hilts in the middle were beyond elegant, the folding shadow of the matte blades absolutely distinct and recognizable even at my first glance. These I could easily believe to be a "Grandmaster's" blade. Mourn tested the balance and moved them in a gentle spin without unlocking the hilts, the familiarity obvious. To say he was meeting old friends again was not an understatement.

*Oh, goddess...*

He could change to all these weapons in an instant; they took up minimal weight and space, and he didn't have to show anyone he was carrying them. He must have been an angry terror when he was younger and first on the Surface, given something like this.

"What are their names?" Jael asked, and Mourn gave her a very generous smile at her insight, his dark wings expanding just a little before folding in closer.

"Heart's Twin and Fang," he answered, indicating the one that somehow *looked* older first and then the younger one second.

Another spin and twirl, and I knew I heard a subtle song just beginning. The people in Yong-wen would probably pass out at the end of a performance with these blades.

*Well met, once again,* Rennyn said, his smile joyous. *Now you have closed the distance and caught up to them, my son.*

"Thank you, Father," Mourn said, bowing his head, and I heard the distinct difference in the use of that word compared to when he said "my sire" and talking about Lethrix. I wondered if he had yet another tone he used when he mentioned his Drow Grandmaster.

And somehow the Valsharess had let that Grandmaster get away? How? When did the split happen? Nothing like this skill remained in our City...

*Jael,* Rennyn said then, drawing her attention from her unblinking stare at Mourn as he handed the empty box to Nioah. *Please hand your weapon to Iethys.*

"Mm," she grunted, hesitating though not needing to be asked a second time before she removed the double blade Mourn had "collected" from the Manalar crypt. Taking a step forward, she handed it out to the guiding sister.

*You agreed to learn a new way of fighting and defending,* he said to her. *Do you intend to stay committed to the path of Blade Song of the Baenari and as the apprentice of Moryxxyleth, a mage of the To'vah?*

She trembled as a feeling too large to hide passed through her, but she tried for a smile. "Yes. But...I-I'm not as serious as him."

Rennyn nodded. *There is more than one way, my daughter.*

"Then, yeah. I mean, yes, I agreed before but now I really mean it, I need to fight and defend, like you say, that's what I want to do," she babbled. Just a little.

It was cute.

Rennyn smiled and nodded. "Then remove your gloves and offer me your hands, Jael.*

The youngest Red Sister tugged her hands bare, tucking the gloves at her belt and holding out both her hands. She wasn't sure at first whether they should be palm up or palm down but Rennyn reached out to gently turn them palm down. He bent to plant a light kiss on each, then slipped each of Mourn's golden rings onto her hands, one on each middle finger. Like the bracelets, they shrunk down to her size until they were a perfect fit.

She stared at him, at them, in shock.

*Mourn lost his master too young,* Rennyn said. *May you both remain to gain the wisdom of the Tilabil though a full turn of the Stars.*

Her tremors got more noticeable once again. "You really think I can do this?"

I wasn't quite sure who she was asking, but I said, "What else are you going to do? Say no and go make a cozy shed somewhere to sit in and count the Sunsets?"

She gave me a smirking, suddenly-randy, "Gonna beat your cunt when we're alone" look that made me chuckle.

"Coefe," Mourn said abruptly, and she blinked at him in confusion before it sank in that it was the command word.

She reached out both her hands a little tentatively, but managed to sound confident enough when she repeated the word, "Coefe," and Mourn's giant sliders lifted from Furuc's hands and came to hers, the hilts settling in with a solid thump.

She jolted in surprise at the weight and muttered, "Fuck!" before Rennyn stepped forward to gently close his hands over hers.

As we watched, the set of sliders Mourn had made on the Surface grew smaller, shrinking down like the rings on her fingers until they were the perfect length for her. A small squeak of delight escaped my youngest Sister, as she was clearly much happier about the weight and balance now.

*We will begin training today,* Rennyn said, sharing a nodding look with Mourn before looking directly at Gaelan and myself. *You must be prepared for many things before you leave here.*

My older Sister looked perturbed. "I doubt there's much you can train us on that could compare to this." She nodded toward Mourn and Jael.

*We will train your strengths, nothing more,* Rennyn said kindly, looking to Iethys, who nodded.

"We know Air element magic, Gaelan," the shamaness said with a lovely smile, and I thought her red hawk's eyes comforted the young Drow mage. "You will show talent here, we start here, you and I."

Gaelan didn't question this though she may have wanted to. She glanced briefly toward Mourn, cautiously, and nodded acceptance. Maybe his words about honoring Graul by knowing her own worth had stuck in her head.

"And Sirana?" she asked on my behalf.

I blinked. *Ohhhh, right...*

I hadn't told her yet.

"I'll be practicing my psionics," I said, trying to sound confident and casual, but not *too* casual.

"Your...what?" She turned to stare at me.

I pursed my lips and pulled out my sapphire. Shyntre's sapphire, once upon a time. "Remember this?"

Gaelan focused on it and nodded. "Of course." Then something else struck her and she gasped. "Yes! At the debriefing, D'Shea said it was useless to any Drow but you. She said it absorbs arcane magic...?"

"Not much, just enough for me to use another way when I need a boost," I said, thinking over how there was more than enough magic to go around no matter what had been going on. If any particular mage had noticed the effect, no one had complained to me about it.

"How?" Gaelan asked bluntly, crossing her arms.

"My trial in the wilderness," I said. "Lolth's Threshold, the after effects...?"

Again, Gaelan was the only one here who didn't need that explained; she had been there. She nodded.

"Combined with the death throes of an active psionic when I was mindlinked to him at the same time..."

She worked to think back. "Before I caught you attacking the Consort."

"Way before. A couple cycles, as I made my way back."

"Not an Illithid."

"Wouldn't be here now if it was. A Duergar. His name was Kain."

She gave me an odd look at that detail, but declared, "D'Shea knew."

"She did. Rausery, too. Not the Prime."

"Fuck."

She was right; her expression said it all. Maybe it wasn't just me then to think about D'Shea and Rausery each choosing to keep certain things from the Prime, or at least "delaying" their reporting, it made me think they had a similar goal in mind. I hoped so. If they didn't, then it wasn't good for the Sisterhood.

"And now?" she asked.

"I need to practice. I haven't been, not even using it unless I needed it in the moment or it just came on me."

"Why not?"

As she said it, I could sense her thoughts; my Sister was trying to figure out just what I could do that was like a grey dwarf, trying to figure if she had ever seen any hints before, and right then it dawned on her what that could mean among the Games of the Drow. It would change everything.

I indicated her face. "Because of paranoid looks like that. It would mean admitting I wasn't a pure Drow anymore. That I was something everyone feared and distrusted even more than mages. And I don't know how this will affect my baby, either, if he is even 'pure Drow' at all."

Gaelan's face unexpectedly crumbled and the empathy was clear.

"Oh. Oh, well..."

She looked toward the Tilabil and the Wilder and back to me. She could only shrug with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I see. Me, neither, I guess. I'm not pure Drow... but I'm here with you."

"As are we," Mourn rumbled, and Jael grinned as she tested a blade twirl like his.

"Fuck, yes," my little Sister said.

********

Rennyn and Iethys would each gave us their time, their insight, and something to do when they were not directly facing one of us—some mental or physical task or challenge, so that not anyone of us would spend any time loitering those first few days.

"You will be fatigued the first day but it will get better," we were told.

Gavin seemed oddly amused at first, and I caught him just before he excused himself.

"Some methods of teaching seem universal, that's all," he said, looking over his shoulder and his eyes seeming to see something that wasn't there. "I shall return to Shunraeki for the time being. Spectators are not usually helpful to novices."

I frowned—okay, pouted—but let him leave. None of us were really novices in anything; all of us had some notable level of skill, if not a mastery. I wondered whether the Deathwalker meant closer to seeing us able to work together using newly discovered strengths. At least that's what I could finally envision for us, and I already knew that if I could see it in my mind, I could make it happen.

That concept ended up being at once very literal yet so abstract in some very new ways within the Wilder valley and the Tilabil's grove.

First I was asked to find that "quiet spot" within the grove and "decorate it," while Rennyn took Mourn and Jael elsewhere, and Iethys offered a guiding arm to Gaelan, drawing her along. Furuc and Nioah also excused themselves. It was surprisingly easy without anyone around, even as I expected my own thoughts to become too loud without any distractions to quiet them.

*Decorate it. Heh.*

The quiet place started out gray and misty, kind of like the grove and a bit of the Greylands, but I recalled how Isboern kept the things dear to him within that place. Each of the Godblood's details had symbolized a stable home and hearth, family he wanted to see again, and basic, uncomplicated work which would nonetheless inevitably build a subtle and complex community.

What about me? What I would do to personalize this state of being?

When next I opened my mind's eye, a bed had appeared. At first glance someone might've called it fancy, the repose of the wealthy with four posts and a canopy overhead and a stark contrast to the rustic, square wood and logs lashed together to form Isboern's bed. I admired the beauty, I couldn't really help it, I was an Elf. The curves of the smooth metal calmed me and simultaneously posed suggestions, and the quality of the craftsmanship went beyond what most Humans might consider good enough.

I could have the wildest, roughest sex on this bed and it wouldn't break. If anyone else watched—be it through scrying spell or through a crack in the door or hole in the wall—the bed would complement the Elves within it, or hanging from it, or tied to it...

I noticed then, placed directly in the middle of the white, spider-silk spread, was a female's pleasuring toy: a rounded, extremely firm pillow with a flat underside, covered tightly in leather. It was the right width for straddling, and perched on top was a smooth, straight phallus which I knew vibrated with a magical word.

This was something I had always wanted to try, but only the older females at Court could really get away with using this in their leisure, not caring enough to justify why they couldn't get a male to lie down for them. They were bored, or something. It was very competitive for the young female Nobles, counting how many dicks you could get upright and in you. Any female as young as I was didn't have the excuse to be riding a disembodied cock alone.

Yet sometimes—not preferentially, but sometimes!—I had just wanted to take my time and pleasure myself. Take the cycle, if possible, and not have to have someone staring up at me, waiting, maybe have someone to fight, maybe have to watch over my shoulder for someone arriving behind...

I sighed, looking over the details of the bed.

So this was me, hm? My decoration of choice.

Well. It was only my first piece. I could always add others.

Smiling, I got off of my knees and approached the bed, climbing onto the central smoothness of it and leaning down to test the phallus with my mouth, moistening it up at the same time. It was not a Feldeu, nothing that was the right temperature or felt so soft-skinned and real. However, it was well-made, a combination of flawless glass wrapped in tight, butter-soft leather.

There were also incredibly comforting ridges curving at the base of the phallus—both sides so it didn't matter which way I faced—against which to grind myself like some kind of weird tongue. Clit or ass, when I thought about it. I looked for the phonetic tag that would give me the command word, hopefully something basic, and I saw three. I did recognize them; not command words but runes I should touch to activate. Even better.

One for vibrate, touch once for slow, twice for faster. There was also one for larger, and one for smaller.

*Mm. Yummy.*

I didn't have reason to wait. I threw my leg over the toy and I got myself seated, the phallus soon penetrating and lodged into place with a hum, followed by my first touch— once—to start the slow vibration.

I discovered my patience for that slow climb could be endless here. It felt so good, so leisurely as I took my time moving on the thing, swiveling my hips, bracing myself to thrust up and down on it, clenching up and moving back and forth along the ridges, forward and back, my chin tilted up, eyes closed...