Surfacing Ch. 29

It was worse than that.

I forced myself to eat again even as I recovered from the dizziness of travel, and Gavin prodded the black patch, looking for a sentry, I thought. There was none.

"Tamuril showed me one of those," I said, "much closer to the Tower."

"Yes, so you've said." Gavin spoke without looking behind him. "But this isn't the same place."

"No, it isn't. I mean, I also noticed something similar when you buried Night-mare just outside of Manalar when we were sneaking in." I looked around, confused. "If there's nothing here, as you warned there could be...what is this?"

Gavin brushed off his hands and came off his knee to look at me. "Pooling."

We waited, glancing between us.

"Pooling of what?" I asked when he didn't immediately follow-up.

"Not of what. Simply where death far outweighs rebirth," he said, and I got the impression he didn't actually have a formal name for this process.

"Isn't that just rot?" Gaelan asked.

"No," Gavin said. "Even rot has creatures born and growing within it. This soil can be a modest source of rejuvenation for undead creatures as it will be closer to the Tower, but this far out I believe it's unintentional. Part of the chain reaction of what Sarilis is doing."

"And if we stand on it, it'll make us sick," Jael stated.

"Correct," Gavin said.

"Except you."

"Also correct."

"The symptoms again, and how fast?"

"For anyone living, nausea and a growing headache to start, followed by weakness and dizziness, assuming something undead isn't coming straight at you or reaching up to pull you down, as you are a bit of a beacon for them. You have a minute at best where you may fall and not be able to get up. Eventually your body will sink down into the soil."

I was studying Gavin's face as he described this. "You tried it out once when you were alive, didn't you?"

He looked at me. "How else was I supposed to learn what Sarilis kept hidden? Although as I recall, that 'stunt' set Cullen to traipsing after me for a month and sucker punching me when I wasn't looking. The old bastard was annoyed but more giddy with the excuse to abuse me."

Sounded about right, and yes, I remembered Cullen, the undead escort. He "traipsed" after me for a while, too. But without the hitting, because Sarilis had been a host who enjoyed female guests.

I doubted he'd like the three coming for him now nearly as much by the end of it.

"So the day is on its way out," Gaelan said softly, looking around us and I briefly caught a nervous memory of the area around the Warpstone cult in her mind. "We're still using time looking for this 'Druid'?"

Gavin started to nod, and Mourn started to sign an affirmative.

I missed both those because I looked up when I heard a falcon cry. "Hm. Or maybe she just found us."

My far vision still wasn't that great in daylight, but I wasn't talking about seeing the pattern of her feathers. Her call combined with the more purposeful and familiar approach helped identify her for me: Pilla.

Tamuril must be actively searching to pinpoint us... barely a quarter hour after we'd stopped in the area. Maybe she had senses I didn't understand as well. Regardless, I had something of a bad feeling...urgency, if not something worse. Such as the falcon's mistress having been captured or something.

The bird circled once but didn't dive toward the ground. Could I call her? I could give it a try...

*Pilla. Pilla!*

The falcon tightened her circle but not as if in response to me. I shrugged. I couldn't be sure she would recognize "me" this way, anyway. Still, Pilla circled only one more time before turning and flying straight in a line just skirting the prominent border of the dying forest, and as we watched the falcon descended closer to the treetops.

"Follow," Mourn said.

This would probably be the last time Gavin and Gaelan climbed aboard Roh before the beast would have to make her own way to the outcroppings above the Tower—hopefully with impeccable timing. Mourn and Jael remained on the ground with me and we did not push for far-distance speeds but mostly a hard gallop with some sound-muffling spells.

Pilla got there well before us and Gavin still needed to bring down Roh, but Jael, Mourn and I found Tamuril—alone and seemingly well...but staring green needles at us through her eyes as her whole frame seemed rigid as the trunks around us. At least there were living leaves here.

"You've come to stop him, right?" the Druid demanded of me, before she blinked and was thrown off not only by my obvious stomach but also Mourn's wings when she finally looked at him. Then she saw Jael, her new weapons crossing her back in familiar fashion. She gaped, and I answered the question she'd probably forgotten right then.

"Yes, we've come to stop him," I said. "You said to find you before facing off with him."

She didn't reply, so I took the lead.

"So how was Willven when you left, and how long have you been out here? Any news besides," I swept my hand out, "the obvious."

The Noldor looked back and blinked. "Uhm...wait. You first." She indicated Mourn. "Are the wings just part of his shifting?"

"They are now," Jael said. "Didn't used to be."

The Druid glanced at my Sister, noting the weapons on her back which were no longer on Mourn's. "And...those look like his, but...um..."

Jael grinned. "But my size, I know, they are the same, he made them. We're a lot stronger in magic now, Druid. Mourn is teaching me."

"So I see," Tamuril murmured, now seeming a bit wary as Pilla fluffed her feathers on her shoulder.

The bird blinking and turning her head suspiciously toward us, then toward Gaelan—where her tawny eyes stayed. Tamuril followed the bird's lead.

"And this must be Gaelan? You were successful in your mission."

I nodded, and even though Gaelan had been warned ahead of time about the Noldor Druid possibly joining us, even though my older Sister possessed the secret origins of the Wilder and saw many with lighter skin colors and accepted them... she still stared at Tamuril like something out of our farthest, most dangerous legends.

"Gaelan's with us," I said with a nod, taking her arm and bringing her fully beside with me. The air mage took a deliberate step forward, trying to form a confident show in front of an ancient enemy race but an individual who was an ally.

Tamuril nodded, herself having taken on a stern, determined gaze leaking the need to protect, even without Willven being here. She had a lot on her mind and she wasn't intimidated. That last part was good, but I hoped she would talk more.

The Druid watched me with her familiar resting on her right shoulder. I could sense her momentary sadness that I had to enter this battle with such a tempting target out in front for all to see but ultimately she knew there was no other way. She nodded and took a breath to calm down, her resolve clear and as she spoke, she looked directly at me, Gaelan, then Mourn and Jael, and finally Gavin.

"I am sorry we don't have time for visiting. Yes, I am here to help you—you clearly see what Sarilis is doing. But... you should know now there is something else in the forest as well. A creature I don't know. I've been tracking it for several days, but neither Pilla nor I have gotten a look at it. At first it seemed to be heading away from the Tower but following the Ley Line. Now in the last day, it's turned around and come back this way at a quick pace. As far as I know, I haven't been herding it but I...was trying to find you before it did. If you were indeed coming."

"How long have you waited?" I asked.

"Since I first showed you where the Tower is," Tami replied with a tiny smirk. "As you agreed."

I smirked back. Point.

She went back to being serious. "Although for the time being I just scouted and watched and kept out of Sarilis's direct sight. You were right, he must have used the upheaval at Manalar to become something else that won't die but will kill everything else around it. I've watched it spread over the last month and hoped the Deathwalker and you all were coming soon. Only very recently did I sense this other creature, though, and I believe it is completely separate from Sarilis."

Mourn tilted his head. "What does your standard tracking tell you?"

The Druid nodded to him; this was familiar territory. "Large, bipedal footprint, five clawed toes, taller than me, could be near you in strength as there is significant weight as well. It has coarse, white hair on its body for certain, I found it snagged on some bark. Scat suggests it is eating well, omnivore, and fully adapted but...while it is magical in a familiar way, something about it is very foreign. And in a way that feels...wrong to me."

As she's been speaking, a clear image had come to me. I couldn't believe it, and yet...

It had to be Vesram.

Tamuril noticed the way I looked at her. "What?"

"You're a good tracker," I murmured. "Do you have the hair you mentioned?"

She nodded, opening her forest-colored cloak and reaching to pull it out of her belt pouch. She held five, long, distinct white hairs; I took off one glove and reached out; she hesitated only a moment before allowing me to touch them, then take them. Everyone stared at me as I rubbed them between my fingers—far too familiar—and then brought them up beneath my nose to take a quiet sniff.

I looked at Mourn and Gavin with some concern. "Definitely the Draegloth."

Tamuril nodded slowly, frowning in dismayed confirmation. "Willven told me about what he'd seen down in the crypt...I had hoped against the signs."

"We were just talking about him," Jael said, unhappy as well. "What's he doing here?"

"He's probably been following the Ley Line straight to the Tower ever since he escaped the crypt," Gavin said thoughtfully. "If he surfaced from the same place that you did, Sirana, but over a century ago, he may be trying to find it again."

Trying to go home.

"But now he's changed direction," Mourn said. "Toward us."

That sounded right. He could have seen Roh in the Sky, could have sensed us coming—although did that mean Sarilis did, too?—he could have—

I thought back to the crypt, of the Draegloth just before Vo'Traj died, and I had held everyone back so he could escape. Jael had hurt him worse than he'd hurt her, and I didn't think it was just her ferocity keeping him off-guard at the time. I knew he could have done worse but he mostly defended. I'd never pointed that out to anyone and neither had Jael.

Jael took hold of my shoulder, giving it a small shake. "Hey. You okay?"

I nodded, blinking out of my memory. So this was the first trip-up in our plan. A cynical side of me wondered why we had even bothered planning at all. We couldn't continue on and let the Draegloth be at our backs, especially since he might be hunting us, maybe trying to find me since it seemed he hadn't yet found the passage to the Underdark yet—if that was what he came all this way to find.

"Gavin, could I hold your scepter a moment?" I asked, holding out my hand.

"Is that wise?" Gavin asked, his hand mottled by the Sun and the shadow as he reached for a long, leather covering on his belt. "You could summon anything."

"I'm not using magic to summon."

"Then it may not work at all."

"It's a focus for me, isn't it? I know demons are attracted to it. Let me see it."

"And when you bring him closer, then what?" Mourn asked.

When? That was a big load of confidence.

"Do we kill him? Capture him?"

"Neither," I said flatly. "I want to talk to him first."

"No!" Jael protested. "He's not just going to talk! He sneaked up on us in the crypt! He attacked us!"

"Yes, he will talk," I argued. "He would have talked back at the crypt if he wasn't following Vo'Traj's commands. She had his name to control him."

"And now no one does!" she blurted. "He can do anything he wants! He's a demon!"

"He's half-Drow!" I shot back. "He was born here and is bound here, he can't just leave or be banished to another plane at will! And he's never lived alone until now. He'll be uncertain, he'll want company. He'll talk."

"And then what?" Gaelan inserted, much less aggressively than Jael. "What will you talk about?"

Well...

I looked at Mourn, almost pleading. He'd be the one who'd understand most, being of two worlds from birth. He was being practical, weighing the risks against alternate choices. It might be easier to him to hunt and kill the Draegloth himself—alone even, he could always suggest it—but he did consider my offer.

"You're certain of your read, Sirana?" he asked.

I was shaking a little but trying to still it. "I-It's what Kerse felt. He knew his brothers felt the same, he even knew Vesram before he left. Vesram was a shi-goet, a 'little brother' in the Abyssal language. Kerse was a big brother, r'yn-goet."

Pilla ruffled her feathers as Tamuril shuddered, hearing me speak like that. Gavin looked far more intrigued, maybe even almost convinced...

"Draegloth don't like each *that* much, Sirana," Jael said.

"Far better than they like the Consorts, and they are often kept together in the same pen," I continued, and noted Tamuril was listening, completely silent with enormous eyes. "There were ally-packs within them, just as there would be in the Wizard's Tower or the Cloister. And you know without a doubt that they will work together, Jael—better than anyone of us here, you know this."

She didn't reply, but the hard look she gave me was enough to cause Mourn's tail to react. She remembered; like me, she remembered too much about her youth, and her initiation.

"Work together," the Deathwalker picked up, probably the least perturbed by the upset around us. "In other words...?"

I exhaled on a nod. "I might be able to make him an ally against Sarilis in exchange for taking him back home. It might be what he wants, too. If not, at least we'll know now and can deal with this before we move on to an even riskier challenge. Don't you agree?"

Gavin nodded first and quickly, then Mourn, then Gaelan. Jael crossed her arms, not arguing further but not in support, either. Tamuril seemed haunted enough to be wary along with her bird, but given she'd been tracking him for some time and managed to find us first, she certainly wasn't helpless. Even she gave me a mild nod.

My necromancer pulled out the Ma'ab scepter. "Very well, Sirana. Let me demonstrate the best way to hold it so you might not summon something unexpected."

"Like the Kyton?" I said, trying to tease.

"I expected that," he replied, deadpan. "Hold out your hand. Wrap the white hairs around the handle."

******

It was true what I said: I wasn't summoning anything. Like so many of the "internal" psionics, it wasn't flashy or eventful; no powerful or graceful Words, no somatics, no components or obvious rituals. Most would have said that I was just sitting on the ground, nibbling on a travel ration again, holding the heavy, cold metal of the jeweled and engraved scepter. And I was chatting, encouraging the others to chat as the Sun sank down closer to the horizon. Kind of a boring and uninteresting attempt, from the outside.

I had needed to send Soul Drinker and my spiders farther from me to concentrate; Mourn and Gavin were the guards. Maybe Gavin was right; maybe nothing would happen—but wasn't it better to start here than go straight to the Kyton-summoning power, right on the edge of a lich's zone in the hopes of drawing Vesram out into the open?

"The Noldor don't have halfbreeds of any sort," Tamuril murmured, intently careful about what she chose to say. "The Draegloth...are...?"

"Part of the required worship of Lolth," I answered.

Mourn nodded. "Even my former Matron-Priestesses had them, in a different city."

The Druid blinked at us with wide, green eyes. "The way you simply say your Goddess's name out loud...whenever you want..."

I glanced at Mourn and back. "Yes, I've heard you and Krithannia are nervous to say the name of your God...in case it helped them find you, was it?"

Tamuril reached up to pet her clucking falcon, soothing herself in the process; I got the impression she was quelling panic, fighting a very, very old habit. "Maybe it wouldn't, maybe it's just what we were told...but we're afraid to risk it. No one except the Priests and the queen might know His Name. To the rest of us, He is the Husband, or our Lord of Forgiveness, Father of Truth..."

Jael muffled a derisive snort but immediately apologized. "Sorry. It just...does sound like mind-control through dogma. Lots of that back home, it's only that my House was never fooled because we weren't allowed to be. We stood on the outside and watched everyone else act like idiots trying to curry favor with Lolth and her Priestesses."

"Definitely not 'truth, in either case,'" Mourn agreed.

Tamuril nodded slowly, clearly wondering how much of what she'd been told had been "true" but, in fashion just like her beloved Godblood, steered us back to our purpose. "So the Drow must share some of their essence with the Abyss and make sons. Like...ambassadors from that other place to stay here."

"They are a vulnerability as well," I said. "Kill a Draegloth, and you permanently cripple his mother-Priestess. She loses much of her magic and ages suddenly. I've seen it."

The Druid shuddered. "So...the Priestesses fight hard to keep control of the Drow alongside the queen, yet they themselves can only become so powerful by the will of their Goddess."

"Correct," I said and Gaelan nodded thoughtfully.

"I think..." Tami began, paused, and continued. "I do not *know,* but I have wondered before...if it is the same for our Priests. Only their control is for knowledge of the past, those who lived before us. They hoard it."

"I think you *do* know," Gavin spoke abruptly, quiet and a little ominous though he probably hadn't intended to be. "You know about Krithannia, what knowledge she must have taken from them when she left them. Whether this weakened them."

Again Pilla ruffled her feathers as Tamuril petted her nervously. "I-I...alright, maybe, I...uh..." She looked at me. "I've never said it."

"Try," Gaelan said softly. "It can be...freeing to confess. It lightens the weight so you can carry on."

Tamuril looked at the least familiar Drow among us and studied her, no doubt thinking this was so strange to hear from violet-black lips. "But...what others do with the confession, with the information...you should know."

Gaelan nodded. "Yet keeping it for fear of your 'betters' only protects them, doesn't it? It does not protect you."

"Shouldn't we be talking about the Draegloth?" the Druid returned, glancing at me and stalling further.

"I'm working on it," I said, turning the scepter carefully as Gavin had shown me, avoiding certain markings. "Keep talking. What of Krithannia?"

In spite of what it looked like, I was doing something, even as dusk was coming on. I listened and "layered" our conversation in my head in a way I'd practiced before with Rennyn. He said it was sort of like weaving a small piece of a veil that put out a welcoming scent and pattern—and it didn't all have to be the same color. A one-path mind wasn't my natural leaning anyway, so my colors and patterns went all over the place, and the veil drifted and floated in various directions, searching for something. For change.

Tamuril looked at Mourn. "You know, don't you? Krithannia told you."

He nodded.

"And you've never said. You never told them."

"It was never mine to say."

"And so now it's mine?"

The hybrid nodded again. "Of course it is, Tamuril. I know how he hurt her, but I've seen only this year how he's hurt you much more."

Deep pain and anger passed over her face and she trembled; Pilla could no longer stay on her tense shoulder but hopped down to land on her leather-clad thigh, looking up at her mistress the way Graul used to look at Mourn when he was worried. I stopped breathing for a moment at the power of the Druid's emotion.