Surfacing Ch. 29

Gavin grunted, thinking about this.

"But we didn't do that," Jael pointed out with passion as she remembered more of the crypt from my description. "Your spider bit her and Gavin ripped out her heart!"

The Deathwalker nodded in agreement. "Yes, actually, I have been thinking about that. There seemed no time to bring it up before where it would be any help, but now it might."

"What?" I asked, and the others listened as the Deathwalker levelled his gaze at me.

"I have absorbed some of VoTraj's insights and knowledge when I crushed her heart. I believe you discovered that during our healing of Gaelan."

Gaelan tensed beside me; I briefly caught a thought from her: *He can do that...?*

I asked bluntly, "So why do you doubt what I say about the phylactery? Surely you 'absorbed' that if it's all important to her."

"I was testing the accuracy of Innathi's knowledge. I'll grant what you describe is accurate, and Vo'Traj did have a 'phylactery' such as you describe but she called it something different. A Ma'ab word that translates roughly to 'heritage gate' although even that is not a good description. "

"Alright, then what do you want to bring up now about the way Vo'Traj's died?"

"Simply that the Drae'goth we saw possessed the 'heritage gate' for Vo'Traj, as by his very nature he would live longer than her without assistance of any sort and he was kept close to her, as is necessary to use it. The first break in her armor was that mindlink you made with the creature, Sirana, part of why it was so debilitating for you."

My mouth twisted wryly. "Now you're saying it wasn't just me?"

"Oh, it was you and your trauma coming back to haunt you," he stated without blame or comfort, "but Vesram used that connection to temporarily weaken his bond with his mistress, and in doing so lessened the phylactery's effect. The spider bite would not have worked otherwise, and I would not have overwhelmed her as quickly as I did. The piece crumbled just before the Draegloth escaped."

"Did you see what it was?" Jael asked.

Gavin smiled without humor. "It was a gem attached to a ring, which was attached to his groin somewhere. A piercing, perhaps. I only saw the jewel and metal pieces fall to the ground from beneath his tunic just before he turned invisible."

Gaelan was listening but couldn't really add anything; she rubbed my upper arm as I leaned against her. Mourn nodded thoughtfully and Jael was frowning, trying not to outright scowl.

"What do you suppose happened with him?" my younger Sister asked.

We could only shake our heads. Vesram had disappeared. Escaped, unbound.

"So this 'soul-siphon' phylactery," Mourn said to Gavin, "is not the same as Sarilis."

"Correct," the Deathwalker replied. "And that is as good a word as any, I suppose. In a lich the phylactery acts almost in reverse one could say, but I do not know if a magical brand plays into it at all. Unless Innathi shared anything else?"

He was looking at me. I shrugged. "It might be one way to trace it if he is using any soul energy at all to build its strength."

"Noted," he acknowledged, and he did with his quill. "Interesting to think there are different types of this idea on Miurag, thanks to the Ma'ab. I'd even say the thing inside Kreshel Divigna keeping him alive is like a phylactery, except with Elfish essence instead of necromantic preservatives."

Gaelan chuckled softly at the word "preservatives," and I knew why. We might have both been imagining little jars in a pantry filled with gruesome, pressurized death magic spread. Of course, we wouldn't be laughing if someone opened one of them.

"It's a fair comparison and a curious development, I suppose," Gavin continued, raising a brow at us. "Although Innathi is twisting the value of her knowledge somewhat. Still, this is exactly why both Ma'ab Maknuut and Miurag death mages will want your baby, Sirana, perhaps more so after he's separate and grown."

Okay, that definitely spoiled my urge to laugh.

"Sarilis or anyone else won't get him!" Jael said, immediate and hot, and Mourn and Gaelan each nodded sternly, making me smile a bit.

"And you don't want him?" Gaelan asked the grey mage, direct and quiet.

Gavin paused, narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully. "I understand how others see the value. I might even wish to experiment with the application, to find the weaknesses, so it was more than theory or borrowed memory. A better arsenal against competitive necromancers, perhaps."

"But?" I prompted, watching at him sort of how Mourn was watching him.

"But," the Deathwalker followed up, "it is not required of me, and would serve no purpose than to make my Lady's allies into enemies. The cost is not worth it."

We each relaxed a little and I said, "So...go on. Sarilis's phylactery."

Gavin nodded. "We can kill Divigna's body over and over again, but they can always transfer this 'phylactery' to a new body and bring him back. It is similar with Sarilis but from what notes I'd taken, a lich can automatically awaken a new body without outside aid. Perhaps they magically brand a body beforehand. In either case unless the phylactery is destroyed, the lich isn't truly slain and can exert its influence."

"Except you said the phylactery will not be inside Sarilis's body," Mourn said, "but hidden elsewhere like Vo'Traj's."

"Yes," Gavin replied.

"And we do not know what it will look like."

Gavin nodded again. "It will be a magical item in order to act as a vessel. It must be something which can withstand an intense transference of this kind, so a hard gem like Vo'Traj, or the skull of a rare, magical creature, or perhaps an ornate box containing precious writings permeated with magic." My scholar looked more directly at Mourn. "Think of anything that you might prefer to keep in your hoard or your library. These would be acceptable as a lich's phylactery."

"So we've speculated. We are also assuming it will be on the premises and not transported elsewhere for safekeeping."

"Correct," Gavin said. "The factors most in our favor are the relatively short time it has been since its creation and the Tilabil's confirmation that thus far he has spent his time gaining control over the area, creating sentries and digging in. It seems he is intent on being left alone while he hones the magic he already knows. But sooner or later he will have to seek new sources of knowledge.

"I can confirm Sarilis did not know teleport or inter-planar spells before I left, and his behavior thus far implies this was not his focus in the past few months. He may not be expecting us to return at all, perhaps assuming we've perished on his errand. That was his plan, after all. I would say he still keeps the phylactery close by as he simply does not have another place he can be sure it is safe besides the Tower."

Mourn acknowledged this reasoning for a second time—when we were planning among the Wilder, the Guild Leader had told us he would have moved his hoard multiple times by now if it had been him in Sarilis's place, but Gavin had needed to convince him that Sarilis was not this way.

"I lived with the vulture for some time. He's far too grand on himself," Gavin had said with a wrinkle of his shriveled nose. "He's held a Ley Line nexus unopposed for years, and now he's cheated death. As far as he'll be concerned, he's won and is now invincible. The only chink in his armor he'll believe he has is the phylactery and he won't want that out of his direct control. Not only does he not have another place, but he certainly doesn't have anyone he would trust with it."

I observed Mourn's slow acceptance of this. Feeling invincible... in a way that a recently-molted half-Dragon would not. Even knowing he had gained in power, the hybrid was still aware there were other highly-mobile half-bloods out there who would try to kill him and take what he's earned at any time. There was a bit of a difference in the level of planning and paranoia, it seemed.

"So our overall plan to engage will still work," Mourn said. "And we may be looking for arcane marks on objects or bodies, which may or may not be transferring death magic."

The Deathwalker nodded in agreement.

"That sounds like only something Gavin can sense," Gaelan said. "I still don't see how we will help."

"Distraction and aggregate opposition should never be underestimated," Mourn told her. "And there will be plenty of undead to demobilize while we search for the phylactery and overcome its protections."

I liked how he said that. Demobilize. Not kill or destroy. Wasn't accurate anyway.

"Besides, Iethys taught you some very useful tricks, didn't she?" I said to our newest addition...who was also the oldest among my friends.

Gaelan nodded slowly. "I'm not as powerful as her..."

"But you can give anyone in our way some very unpleasant surprises."

She sighed, looking at Mourn. "How much silver did you pull out of your cache?"

"What we could hold," he said again.

"And the silver dust—"

"Most useful in your hands, Gaelan. Use it well."

"Just be mindful where I am when you do," Gavin added.

Gaelan nodded, but she also looked saddened that Mourn had to give up some of his riches for this assault—and he had, but I wasn't sure why she, of all of us, would be reluctant to use what he'd offered. No one else seemed to think he didn't have plenty to spare, not even Jael. Why else was it there if not to be used when needed?

All of us except Gavin carried at least one enchanted, silver dagger, Mourn would be using silver-tipped bolts when needed, and not one of us was without other magical weapons as well—I even saw Kurn's sword still strapped among Gavin's things on Night-mare. My Deathwalker had assured us it wasn't just creatures from the Greylands with the silver vulnerability. The effects could vary, but silver was a highly reactive metal in death magic in general.

My poor Deathwalker was very tolerant being around so many who had the tools to assassinate him anytime. Like the rest of us, he just had to trust that we wouldn't try. There were agreements with me and the Guild to help reassure him, but it couldn't have been a relaxing thought. Maybe he just put it out of his mind, like I did all the things Mourn *could* do, but didn't, and all the things *I* could do with Soul Drinker...but didn't.

******

We took our rest while it was still dark, planning to travel more in the day despite the discomfort, because Sarilis would be more active at night as well.

"He doesn't have a sun vulnerability, but some of his minions could," Gavin had said, "and the old goat rarely left the Tower during the day anyway, I would be surprised if this changed after his transformation."

"Always be ready to be surprised," Mourn said.

But we still went with the "most likely" scenario.

I awoke to a vaguely familiar scene as the Sky lightened a bit but the Sun had not yet risen: Gaelan still sleeping, the mounts at rest, Gavin actually tending a cook fire—wow, it smelled good—and two others gone. Mourn and Jael.

"Um," I said softly, and Gavin pointed the direction they had gone. I evaluated whether the warm food was ready and realized he'd be urging me away from him until it was done. I'd save him the trouble.

Stretching out, I put on my boots and left to sneak after Mourn and Jael; I wanted to see how close I could approach without being sensed. It distracted me from a slowly gnawing belly and was good practice. Quiet my mind, suppress my aura, be patient.

I couldn't turn flat-out invisible like Kain and Kerse quite yet—maybe someday—but with my hood up and the right mindset, I could "blur" myself a little bit, lighten my footsteps, to where I at least blended into the deeper shade more easily than I had before. When I remained still, my outline was broken up and it almost had to be some other sense, sound or scent, which might give me away—sight alone certainly wouldn't do it, not even a hawk's or a cat's eyes.

I had a guess what the two were doing and it was just as well if I didn't distract them. But I wanted to watch.

It was in these same mountains and similar forest, in a small clearing at the edge of which I'd spied on Kurn practicing his swordplay in the mornings while we rode east toward the Midway. One time he'd decided to stroke himself off afterward and spurt all over a tree trunk. At that time I'd been somewhat confused at my arousal—it wasn't then or now the lying, fugitive Ma'ab himself or even the display of prowess, more I'd found myself dreaming of others based on cues from him—but it was quite pleasant now with no confusion whatsoever.

Mourn and Jael were practicing as Kurn had been, yes, but at the moment they weren't moving very much, or very fast. Similar to the display I'd witnessed in Yong-wen of Bohai and his brothers, similar to what I'd glimpsed here and there in the Wilder valley, master and apprentice were moving through an "ol xunde." Everything was controlled and deliberate, and slow; weapons, movement, breathing, stepping.

These were moves which worked, though it was still hard for me to imagine what they looked like at full speed just watching them. In, up, out, down. Step, turn, push, cross.

Regardless of how the unfamiliar witness might question its application in a fight, it was still hypnotic. I loved watching; the only thing I really missed was exactly how their auras were changing—just as I couldn't see how the Yungian brothers were changing theirs.

I could sense it in their presence, though: Calm. Quiet. Focus.

I might have thought Mourn had an unfair advantage with the patient Dragon inside versus any pureblood Elf, but now the hybrid had another layer of complexity to add with his wings so he actually didn't appear quite as perfect in all his moves as Jael mirroring him. He made just a little more noise now when they stretched or closed, shifting to allow a long-reach weapon to move around him without slicing a hole through his wing like a sail upon a ship. He was clearly competent, figuring his new techniques out in a constant evolution of thought that would be intimidating to any Human, for certain, and maybe even a skilled Elf, but with Jael, he was starting somewhere new, too.

Likewise, I wasn't fully accustomed to seeing Jael hold onto her own patience this well—but in order for her to succeed, I'd better get used to it. It would become "normal." The idea was that eventually she will have only spent a small portion of her life being so impatient about everything and that reputation would only be a good story. The discipline would be good for her, as Furuc had said, and she'd be glad she stuck with it.

Rennyn had said something similar about me, except it was less impatience and more...

Well. More "me" inside, and less "them."

Mourn and Jael faced each other most of the time, rarely turning their backs as they stepped lightly in the tall grass and the early light strengthened in the clear Sky. Instead of growing aroused—okay, instead of *only* growing aroused...and hungry, damn it—I felt that joy in being alive the Tilabil had described. I'd felt it before, it wasn't new or foreign, it was only that I could recognize it now. Warm and filling, like food but not.

The duo brought their weapon around to a resting stance and straightened up with a bow of the head, which gave me the signal they'd finished.

*Is it time for breakfast, Sirana?* Mourn asked, thinking with exaggerated loudness from some distance away.

I glared, reaching out to strengthen the connection. *Oh, fuck you, my stomach didn't growl or anything!*

He chuckled, tail waving. *Just wait. It will.*

*What was it? Did the wind shift on me and I didn't notice?*

*You were low enough for that not to be the problem.*

*You hear anything? Mind or body?*

*You've forgotten you're carrying Soul Drinker again? Tsk."

"I didn't hear anything it, either!*

*Indeed. You were using all your skill and yet it decided to make itself known to me. Something to bear in mind.*

Oh, yes. That was helpful. I turned my glare toward the relic but somehow refrained from saying "Traitor" aloud. That was a bit of a fuzzy line, these days.

Taking some signal from Mourn, my little Sister turned in my direction as I stood up and she smiled and hurried toward me.

"Good morning!" she said, planting a kiss on my surprised lips before moving past quickly to return to the camp, not lingering near the relic.

Mourn caught up more slowly, his stride deliberate, and I caught his tail moved in a half-lash once as his eyes rested on the dagger but then he looked at me. "Good morning."

My stomach growled then, signaling I'd pushed my luck far enough. They were both traitors...

"Good morning," I sighed. "Is 'she' talking to you?"

Mourn shook his head. "You are a good guardian, Sirana. Jael says she no longer hears its whispers, and neither do I. That may be why it is flaring its aura now and then. Attention-seeking."

"That's not good."

Mourn shrugged. "Why we have an agreement when the danger is clear and present."

He leaned down to kiss me like Jael had. I enjoyed it, but I had a different frown soon afterward.

"You look worried," he commented.

"There was a reason they discouraged genuine affection among fighters underground," I muttered.

There was the unspoken thought there: What if one of us dies in the next few days or weeks or months...?

"And would you be better off now having spurned even the first kiss of affection?" he asked seriously.

I didn't even pause. "No."

"Then what's done is done, and trust yourself in what comes. That is all anyone can do."

"You sound like your Father."

Mourn grinned unexpectedly, his eyes bright in amusement.

My empty, yet still obviously round stomach complained again and I gestured the way back to the camp and the cook fire. I could silence the attention-seeker in my belly more easily than I could the one at my hip. Not for the first time, I wondered how long this would be the case, and which of many possibilities would come where I would need to trust myself?

*******

We talked a lot more about our plans that breakfast, and lunch, and that evening again. It seemed we weren't close enough yet to keep Soul Drinker from being a pain in my ass whenever it decided to "wave hello" at the Dragonblood.

"Just what did you promise her, Mourn?" Jael asked at one point, the beginnings of jealousy apparent.

"That's what it wants you to ask, Jael," he said, like a trainer not a lover.

Then he had asked her step farther away with him, and I knew he had signed his response specifically because we all could read it, but Soul Drinker couldn't—and beyond the immediate area, it couldn't sense him, either.

*I am your teacher, you are my apprentice, we are partners. I will not abandon you, or fail my master to pass on Blade Song. Do not doubt me, trust me, regardless of what other females would have you think.*

Gavin, whatever he was thinking about or comparing that to, nodding almost to himself, and Gaelan smiled a little at me. I was glad when Jael and Mourn sneaked off in the middle of the night, probably for some stress relief, and I remained where I was with a firm vigil over Soul Drinker.

This was just the beginning of how Innathi would work to see her own visions come true.

We got up again, travelled again, just started to turn in the direction of Tamuril's hovel to see if she was there. That was part of the plan; I'd told the others she had insisted at Manalar. Mourn and Jael scouted ahead as it was during this third day that the land changed abruptly for me. Sort of. The speed at which Night-mare had been galloping may have had something to do with it.

Nonetheless, we evaded our first black patch in the soil just before many of the trees—but not all—seemed to become standing skeletons themselves. The Sun was still up and the Sky was clear, but I could see grey clouds looming up ahead as the mountains became greyer, and blacker. We stopped, and now Roh was easier to see looking up as she clung to the tallest tree; there was still some green, but many of the leaves now carpeted the ground in brown, crunchy husks. Well early in the season, I was told, and not with the feeling of hibernation and eventual renewal.