Surfacing Ch. 32

The Elder stared into Gaelan's eyes as soon as she opened them again, her power rising and their auras testing each other in an inaudible hum. Eventually, D'Shea shook her head once and stepped back.

"You've changed as much as Sirana," she murmured. "I don't know this aura or its magic. But you have grown as well." D'Shea hesitated. "I am...glad to see it."

Gaelan's eyes teared up a bit and she nodded slowly. "It...is still me, but...the Warpstone Cult destroyed part of me, Elder. It took powerful magic to replace what was gone."

"Who helped you?" D'Shea asked.

"Morixxyleth's allies. I c-can't tell you more. I'm sorry."

Hearing this, D'Shea realized she couldn't simply lift it from Gaelan's thoughts as now the shadow jumper's own training was tight and steadfast. This must have been as unnerving for my Elder as hearing the history of the dagger. She was only now getting a broader picture of the massive amount of power above her head, about which she had no idea how to counter.

She was looking up now, when she'd always looked down while "restrained."

We were almost out of time. Lethrix shifted warningly.

D'Shea let it go and said to all of us, "Vic and Halena will find you. You can trust them to bring you to a safe place closer to the City. I'm sorry I can't lead you myself. I have to go back to the Palace now and I do not know where I will be but I will be watching for ways to help you."

"There is no plan, then," Mourn said.

She shook her head. "I may be back in prison. If I can't avoid it or get out... I can't promise you anything. But I am your ally. I will see the Priesthood come down, and I will not interfere in what our Valsharess is to face. I will defend you as I can."

That had to be good enough.

Jael shrugged, looking at Mourn. "We knew no plan would last anyway."

Lethrix purred softly, moved slightly toward D'Shea.

"Where is Shyntre?" I blurted, finally remembering.

No one wanted to answer that question, it seemed. D'Shea's mouth tightened; she hated saying it, but she was being truthful.

"I do not know. I lost track of him a few weeks ago. Lethrix will not say where but he surely knows."

"He's doing as he must," the Dragon said, sounding bored with the question. "And he has protection even now."

"Who?" D'Shea asked, sounding like it was one of many times she'd asked that question.

Lethrix grinned and winked at her. "Who is most motivated to protect him?"

"The Valsharess," Mourn answered for us, and D'Shea looked angry about this.

"What about Auranka," I pushed. "Where is she?"

"Anywhere she wants to be," Lethrix said unhelpfully. "Be careful, little mother. She wants you as much as the Elder Mind does."

"That isn't new," Jael commented.

"You have some good sources, then," the Dragon snickered.

We exchanged glances.

"Anything else?" he asked, being generous.

"Where is Lelinahdara?" I asked, and the dagger trembled in lust at my waist.

This actually caused both Lethrix and D'Shea to pause.

"Why do you need to know?" my Elder asked.

My jaw flexed. "Just answer."

She huffed a bitter laugh rather than take offense at my lack of respect. "Either the Palace or Sanctuary. Not much changed there."

"If there's any way I can meet her alone, Elder, help with that."

She smirked wryly. "That might be difficult. We are not allies anymore."

"So I've heard," I said. "But if it's possible, let it happen at least. It is not betrayal or a deal behind your back."

She narrowed her eyes at me but nodded. "Very well."

"...Anything else?" Lethrix asked again with a long-suffering sigh.

"Wh—"

He perked up. "No? Excellent! I think we're done."

The To'vah took D'Shea then; the two were gone as quickly as they'd arrived. We were still far out, it was well before we would meet Rausery's shadows, yet now we knew that the Valsharess anticipated just about everything that was coming. A fair contest. No surprises.

Except for...?

I touched my marrowcaster from the outside of my pack, and Vesram carefully crept out of the shadows, invisible but I felt his nose nudge my shoulder with a puff of warm breath. I reached and scratched his mane, and he rumbled softly.

"Lethrix can't have missed him," I murmured, looking at Mourn, my expression worried.

"He didn't," Mourn agreed. "Lethrix knew he was there. But he let D'Shea do all the questing for information for the Valsharess's bargain. That is an important detail."

"Meaning he won't tell?" Gaelan asked. "Elder D'Shea was supposed to find out 'who was missing. Lethrix just provided transportation?"

The To'vah-krav nodded. "That fulfilled the bargain. My sire doesn't have to say everything he discovered. He will be stepping back now."

"I'm glad for that," I said soberly, on Lethrix stepping back as much as keeping his mouth shut. As if we needed any more nudging from above and all around us, telling us what we needed to do.

I truly hoped Lethrix said nothing to the queen about the Draegloth. There was still a chance no one except the shadows would know Vesram was coming, and we had to start with that.

*Just one surprise. Please.*

********

The Underdark. Three weeks ago.

Shyntre's long walk through the Underdark was far easier than it had any right to be, sore spots from resting on bare stone notwithstanding.

The shadows' rations remained good and lasted as they should; he didn't have too much trouble finding water as older lessons came back though there was an occasional subtle hint from the drake following him; and the entire Underdark might as well have been empty of its usual dangers when the Dragon was asleep. Nothing stalked or approached him, smaller things that could be a drake's meal hid as well.

The young mage took his time; he wasn't in any hurry to get anywhere at all and in a way he relished being away from everyone, alone and far from every Drow who wanted or expected something from him. It was a first in his entire life, and Lethrix didn't demand conversation.

Shyntre wondered if this was peace, and if it was, if it was the only gift his world would ever give him?

Stopping to sit, he grunted softly to himself in rebuke, his elbows resting on his knees. Ta'suil was a gift from the Goddesses; he always had been. So was Sirana, with her courage and willingness to do what the two of them could not. So was her baby, who should not have survived even halfway through the pregnancy yet had somehow had helped to draw some incredible resources to protect a century-old novice Red Sister, convincing her to even think she had a chance at this.

Hope. Potential. Possibility. What Ta'suil had described in his dreams. For certain it wasn't greed or a lust for power that was bringing his chosen "champion" back. She had so much to lose in trying while all her adversaries just...they just...

Just wanted to keep what they had taken. Maintain what they controlled, and take more.

"Why would the Light and Dark Sisters be any different?" he whispered. "Why should we even try?"

"Forgotten what you saw within the web already?" Lethrix answered from the shadows.

Shyntre shuddered. He hadn't; it was back in his mind's eye, the whole, horrific scene, souls struggling above the City, the healing essence of the world slowly draining away.

"The Sisters will not do the same?" he asked the ancient one.

"They have no need to."

"Where are they? Why aren't they doing more?"

"I wish I could tell you."

"Are you claiming not to know, Dragon, or you know but you won't say?"

Lethrix was quiet for a few beats. "I suspect. That is all I can give you."

*I suspect.*

Shyntre let that fully absorb in the quiet. The To'vah hadn't said it as if he suspected the Sisters' location, or suspected their motive on their lack of action.

*I suspect.*

Shyntre had heard this many times before. "I suspect" was the precursor to "I accuse."

But Lethrix was a Dragon, a Guardian, and that was all he could be. No true guardian could accuse any matron without proof, and if the volatile mix of individuals coming to collide in the Great Cavern could possibly obtain some glimpse of whatever he was hoping to see...

It was a start.

The mage exhaled, resting his forehead on his arms, his back pressed against the unyielding stone. So now what? Would he stay away from the Palace and the Valsharess? Would he try to meet Sirana on her way down?

No. Lethrix couldn't allow that. He'd agreed to bring Shyntre back to Her no less than two full weeks before Sirana arrived. How long had it been already? About a month, he estimated, and he was still out here, so Sirana hadn't begun her journey down yet.

Why not? What was she waiting for?

"Can you tell me if she was successful?" Shyntre asked the drake.

"Hrm?" Lethrix grunted for clarification.

"Sirana. You said not to bother her until after she finished her original mission. Was she successful?"

"You have more than enough power to find out." Lethrix snickered. "Why haven't you done so already?"

Shyntre's temper flared in his gut and he scowled. "Because I didn't want to endanger her with further distraction."

"Very good," the drake yawned, tucking himself down further for a makeshift nap, ignoring his questions.

*Fuck.*

Shyntre sat for a while. He couldn't think of what else to do. Then he couldn't think of anything else.

"Fine," the mage growled, determined to calm himself down enough to slip into reverie, to rest.

He would see for himself.

In seeking Sirana before, the Queen's Consort again began by standing on the red sand, watching the horizon. As the Valsharess had taught him, he focused and called, reaching out with his hand to draw it back. In doing so he drew the space where he needed to see nearer to his gaze. He didn't have to take one step with his feet if he didn't want to; it was all shifting sand anyway. The red horse was another way of doing it if he had another soul with him, but by himself it wasn't needed.

Just find the feeling, sense the answer in the distance, and draw it closer to watch.

Shyntre saw the mountains in which he'd been before; a mix of coniferous and deciduous, though the colors were not green; they were yellow and brown and red. The grass was still green where it wasn't covered by leaves but the blades were losing their luster. He couldn't feel the chill but he observed the abandoned bird nests in the exposed tree branches; he watched the tiny, furry, tree-dwelling creatures frantically gathering stores for winter, and glimpsed a lone ground-digger with an incredibly thick coat of hair.

Snow was coming. Shyntre remembered the stories Rausery and told him, the notes he'd taken for their archives—hardly looked at by anyone.

He fretted. *What's she waiting for? She can't get caught in the snow up here. There's nothing to eat and she'll only get hungrier.*

What if something happened soon down below? What if the multiple stand-offs between his mother and Lelinahdara, between the Prime and Rausery, between the Valsharess and Lethrix, between his City and the Illithid conclave...between himself and Auranka and Phaelous...?

What if something gave, and the chaos began before she could ever get down here?

*We're ready, Sirana. I know we're ready. Where are you?*

She heard him, but she didn't hear his words at first—she was in a place protected once again. Shyntre could sense a similar type of barrier, a ward keeping him from seeing exactly where she was unless she came to him.

*Sirana! Sirana, please!*

His persistence finally paid off. She appeared through the trees, seeming a bit dazed until she saw him, then it made sense to her where she was. Shyntre couldn't speak at first as his eyes locked on her belly.

How much it had grown since he'd last seen her. He knew in person his body would have gained an erection immediately and entirely out of his control. Here and now he couldn't afford the distraction.

Shyntre estimated her time instead. He'd seen it enough among other females in the Sanctuary and out among the Nobles. Sirana's abdomen was almost as big as it would get this first year, just before the unborn's growth slowed down to wait for its birth and develop its gifts. She'd be frequently ravenous for the next month or two, though.

Goddess, how was she going to do what she planned to do?

"Shyntre," she greeted him first and he looked at her eyes, so blue and beautiful in the Sunlight. They had never been this bright in the candlelight of the Wizard's Tower.

His Red Sister almost looked glad to see him, but she was wary of him as well. There was a subtly defensive stance to her whole body that he hadn't the opportunity to see before. In his memory, she had always done her best to look relaxed, observant but nonchalant if necessary... possibly outwardly aggressive and grinning if she wanted to tease him. The once-hunted insisting on being the hunter.

This was new. It was a serious side he never remembered, as if she acknowledged vulnerability. As if she believed he could and would get past her defenses.

Was it him, then? Had he changed so much to her eyes? Or was it instead that she was carrying a baby? Perhaps something else that happened to her on the Surface? He never really knew how she might have changed after what Kerse did to her, or if she was even deigning to acknowledge it now.

Sirana hadn't had the time to consider that attack at all before she stood before the Valsharess twice and was forced to leave the Underdark for the Surface...but Shyntre remembered how she'd looked when Jaunda dragged her out from the broken rock and Shyntre's protection, out of that damned ritual circle, the Lead shouting at him to come with her to the nearest water source to cleanse her novice's body and chill it, to slow the bleeding and judge the likelihood of survival.

Only just after Jaunda and he had decided to ride hard for House Itlaun where Auslan lived, only after handing her over to his worried brother had Shyntre actually fallen to his knees and retched. He certainly hadn't been able to during the fight or after the explosion when the cave collapsed, or riding back toward the City. There hadn't been time.

Maybe that was why Sirana hadn't left yet. Maybe she was afraid to come back. She had to know it was suicide.

"Shyntre," she prompted again when he said nothing, only watched her.

Shyntre almost asked her if she was doing well but that would have been stupid. Ready or not, he was here to get her on her way. It was time. And he still knew he was indeed meant to hurt her...somehow. The Valsharess had Her Vision on that, so what was the purpose in asking if she was well?

The mage's eyes slide again and landed again on the swell of her abdomen, mentally undressing her. He sighed to himself. This was how she was going to do it, one way or another. He was staring at his answer. There was no other way, nor any other reason.

He knew how to spur her on, and not only was it real, but he deserved the opposition. Whoever she brought with her had to know Shyntre was a threat to her.

"I'm going to help them try to capture you alive," he said, a simple statement of fact. "Know that if I do, your baby won't have a chance to be born. They can't wait, it will not grant you a reprieve."

She stared at him; she responded exactly as he wanted her to.

"Can you tell me how you're going to try?" she asked.

He hadn't the slightest idea. He had only to think of the pain from his compulsion to mimic an appropriate response. His throat flexed, and he shook his head in the negative.

Sirana's face firmed up; she looked stubborn as ever and her stance changed from defensive to...

Almost to that same aggressive tease for which he'd known her from the start.

"In that case, Shyntre...know that I have recruited a lot of help to capture *you* alive, and I'll break the hold Ishuna has on you, by force if necessary."

*Augh!* Shyntre choked for real this time, clutching his chest. *Fuck...!*

She knows? Sirana knows that name?

If fucking hurt, but...Sirana knew a lot more than he could have guessed. She wasn't blind or unprepared. He smiled briefly through the pain. He forced himself to laugh, because he wanted to, even as he was scared to the very depths.

He said, "I challenge you to try, arrogant Noble."

"Challenge accepted, pouting wizard."

He wanted to kiss her, but he had to leave.

Back in the Underdark, the drake purred above his head in approval.

"Very good, sorcerer," the Dragon said.

*******

A few cycles later, Shyntre moved closer to his birth City because that was where he felt drawn, and there really wasn't anywhere else to go. He had the thought weeks ago to approach House Thalluen and their plantation; he didn't have any reason not to do so.

There were sentries, of course, but Lethrix helped him avoid them, slipping by undetected just because it would make things easier. Shyntre hadn't caught sight of any Driders yet and felt relieved for that.

The House Guard were, however, on alert and there was constant work and movement. Now it would not be much to Shyntre's advantage to try and remain hidden—too much work, literally for no reward. He wasn't here to spy, he just wanted to talk.

At first, the House Guard weren't even sure who they were looking at. Their jaws were slack a moment but they noted his fine—if stained—robes and it was even possible one recognized the Tower's Headmaster in his face. They signed behind a shield, he knew they did, as he got closer.

"Shyntre, the Queen's Consort," he said aloud in greeting. There was more than enough noise coming from the plantation itself not to resort to sign himself. "I am here to see the Matron Thalluen."

His stomach trembled a little from anticipation but overall he felt as confident as he sounded. Lethrix had vanished somewhere but was probably still watching. Even if he wasn't, Shyntre was back within civilization and he had come of his own accord.

"Ah...yes, Consort," one guard said, sounding baffled but her voice strong as she signed an order to a subordinate to be the fetch. She looked the lone mage over again; she could tell he hadn't come straight from the Palace—or if he had, he been dragged through the mud on the way here. "Remain here, if you will."

He felt the subtle preparation of spells or weapons—not overtly threatening but they did their jobs. Shyntre stood relaxed with his arms lightly crossed and waited patiently. How interesting this would get if, with these grand affairs being shoved into his face, mere guards managed to harm or even kill him...

He couldn't bring himself to care if they tried, though he wasn't sure how he'd react.

The Matron Thalluen came out with further guard from her home, well-dressed and graceful, taking to the dirt and stone. A child held a pitcher in her hands; Shyntre heard the gently sloshing liquid. There were two, well-crafted, crystal cups handing from the loop belt around the child's waist.

The Matron intended to offer him hospitality.

"Queen's Consort, welcome," Sirana's mother said with just the right bow for any royal messenger. She was hiding any and all tension; Shyntre couldn't tell if she was afraid or not. "I am Matron Rohenvi of House Thalluen. I have been advised that you may be tired from your trip. Would you care to guest at my home and refresh yourself?"

No question of why he was here, where he had come from, or if there was an urgent message from the Valsharess. If there was one, it was understood that he was to say it right now without her having to ask.

"I would, Matron Rohenvi. Thank you."

More than one set of eyes glanced at each other. No urgent message. That only made them more nervous.

Matron Thalluen bowed slowly with all the dignity of her station and waited to see if he would bow. He did, and so she gestured to the girl to hand her the pitcher of water. Shyntre watched as the well-dressed child fumbled to get the cups ready and hold them one in each hand for her mistress.