Surfacing Ch. 36

"I was conceived in the red desert?" Morix asked.

*She chose it,* Lethrix answered, metallic eyes nostalgic in that way particular to Dragons. *I thought it appropriate. The Sky was clear and black, the only lights were the Stars. Out in the open upon the red dunes, she embraced me...*

Morix's dark brows lifted in surprise. *Exposed? In yet another Dragon's territory.*

His Sire was delighted. *Ah! You've discovered the To'vah there as well?*

*Not a name. Stories, and glimpses a time or two when I am dreaming. A destructive sand beast the color of orange fire. The Yun-gar say it is merciless and responsible for the sandstorms.*

*Oh, Mazdek isn't all *that* destructive and merciless, though he can make a great storm,* Lethrix crooned. *Like any of us, his home and his duties have made him what he is. Certainly the Deathless and Serenity centered in his desert means he takes a lot of the blame for them among the Yun-gar, and unlike the rest of us, he cannot leave his territory. Or perhaps he chooses not...I'm not sure on that one. The old lizard rarely speaks to us and no longer holds council. A few of the others have taken to calling him 'Mazdek the Mad,' though I personally don't see it.*

*Why, Sire? Because no one is mad in your gaze?*

*Even madness makes perfect sense to the mad at the time,* Lethrix quipped. *But more than that, he did not attack Izabal and me as we made you, though he could have. He chose to wait until we had completed the ritual, until we both knew *you* had happened, and then he waited until she was asleep before he approached me. Does that sound 'mad' to you?*

Morix shook his head in the negative.

*Indeed. He had not seen a Baenar in his territory in a very long time and wanted to scent her. To know she was a To'vah-chosen as well? He still remembered the rules.*

Morix watched the Black To'vah. *What did you speak of?*

*Private,* Lethrix winked. *But he does want to meet you one day should you Become. I recommend bringing more Baenar with you if you do. Possibly some who would be willing to stay near him. Keep him company.*

"Would their presence help heal the desert?*

*It would be a start. Mazdek is unlikely to harm them.*

*Unlikely?*

*He is under god-level strain, my Son. I can guarantee no life will turn out as expected, especially seeking missing Dragons and Goddesses.*

Morix thought that over, placing the information in his longest memory. *Do you think it would be beneficial for Mazdek to meet the Dark Priest at all? They each possess the same color in his aura.*

His Sire took immense amusement imagining that. *Beneficial or not, one could only expect it would be destructive. It would be exciting to watch.*

So much on the Surface connected in some small way to his Baenar mother, just as it was down here. Yet she had died so young, not even two hundred. Morix stroked Jael's hair again, meaning only to comfort himself.

*It could not happen by accident, you once told me,* Morix stated. *If I succeed, if I survive to Become, an unplanned pregnancy is not possible.*

*Correct,* his Sire answered, smirking at him. *But a Daratrix Svi'tra was always the female most open to the possibility, my Son, and although it has been a long time even for my memory since they were more numerous, in hindsight I would grant Izabal the same title. In her short time, she grew to be a mage that used To'vah magic, and she proved herself in battle. Shortly after, she chose to conceive a To'vah child, and she gave all she'd earned to bear you. It is as you've said, the female has a say, be it fully informed or not.*

Morix felt a sad illness in his chest hearing that. *You did not fully inform her?*

Lethrix shrugged. *Sometimes all knowledge is not necessary, just the essence of it. No Words for it, but it is there in one's mind and body all the same. Izabal knew, Morixxyleth. Before the end, she knew.*

Morix swallowed, breathing out to slow his heartbeat. *May I ask why you took her to the Wilder over the Ice Lord? If she needed other Elves during her pregnancy who would accept her.*

*Chance,* Lethrix told him. *Xarzith hadn't let go of our disagreement, and he stood in between us and the Ice Lord at that point in time. Seeking the Wilder took us away from Xar's sniffing nose and his territory, so I carried her there.* The To'vah scratched his chin. *I suppose that simple practicality did decide a few fundamentals for what you would become, didn't it? At least up until this point.*

*You have no disagreement with the Ice Lord?*

*None at all, my Son. He would have welcomed your mother and you.*

Morix frowned. *He is a slave owner. And a plane-jumper with outside deals made for power.*

Lethrix nodded agreement. *He is also a Father of Elves and unlike the Tilabil will explore the Outside to understand it. His knowledge is just as vast, my Son, just pointed in a different direction, and he changed as necessary to succeed in gaining it. Most important, he has no desire to control Miurag's destiny or remake it in his own image; he only wants this world to have a destiny at all.*

Morix jerked his chin to the side, denying the motives were that pure. *Indrath was instrumental in creating the Deathless. He gave Soul Drinker to Queen Innathi, and I know even now he watches and manipulates Cris-ri-phon. How is that not controlling Miurag's destiny?*

Lethrix shrugged. *How is it not controlling Miurag's destiny for the Tilabil choosing to train and teach you, Jael, and Sirana, Morixxyleth? The Ice Lord and the Tilabil are the same, as I've said before. None of the To'vah have serious issue with the Ice Lord any more than they do your foster Grandparents. Did not Indrath step aside when the Herald of the Greylord arrived at the Ley Tower to guard it?*

How could that be the same? Morix wondered. Still the two seemed so different to him. *You suggest only their methods differ?*

*And the justifications. And the explanations. And just about everything else about them, really.* Lethrix grinned, catching Morix rolling his eyes. *Except in what they want for their children, my Son. All of it is True, but none of it Whole. So keeps the Balance.*

Lethrix looked down at Xalli'hoon then, breaking Morix's frustrated introspection and reminding him of this other strange unknown, then the ancient To'vah gaze shifted to Sirana.

*Seeking the Sisters is to seek Truth. Many have tried. Those seeking the Whole were only ever those seeking the Broken One, and they are many fewer. This is the first time I have seen the two intersect.* The Sire locked eyes with his Son. *You want Sirana to be well, Morixxyleth, then you must want the Whole of her to be well.*

********

She was hard. And brittle. Tainted with colors.

Colors she could only see, writhing and frightened deep inside, when there was enough light by which to see at all. But from where did this light come which showed her all these colors within?

She would have said she lay chest-down somewhere she once knew and lived, but from a very different vantage point. Once she had looked up, and it meant progress; now she looked down, where she was blind and wrapped in threads of colors.

Her naked palms pressed to a sheer expanse of shimmering, smooth crystal through which the One Sound spread, and echoed. The tremors of their Thoughts touched her palms, tickled them, and she could hear a dull murmur with her ear pressed to the hard plane now holding her up so close to the light, as if a Great Being studied her once again and found her small and lacking.

Now, at least, she knew why. She could not pretend to Understand those Thoughts anymore. She knew they were there; she sensed the Whole. The Great Work. The Elder Mind. She could not hear them.

She was shut out.

It was worse for it not being the utter silence, the inescapable void she had expected when she turned on the Elder Mind, when her weapons shattered the defense and body of the True Born. She could still hear the One, because now they were many and so... it did not make sense anymore.

~There must be a way to Understand again.~

She did not Understand, and therefore she could not live like this much longer. The Unknowing stretched existence itself, transformed a single turn about the dark or the briefest respite into eternity as she no longer knew how to fill this inferior mind with purpose. It felt as endless and empty as the crystal plane itself, when one was on the outside of it, light beating upon a vulnerable form accustomed to darkness, causing her to shrink.

~And yet even an inferior mind is vast. Too much for an Individual to fill alone without a Master.~

+I hear you, sister, and I agree. Are you ready to try again?+

A trill of fear sounded through the crystal beneath her palms and she quickly pushed herself up. She may have been floating, she may or may not have had feet; regardless there was a tug along her spine which encouraged her to fall back, to spin and flee.

She was not ready to fight again so soon, and her sole protector would only allow one or the other. Fight or flee.

********

Morix straightened up, tensing as the white spines on his back rose up just a few instants before Xalli'hoon stirred for the first time since entering the tent. Shyntre noted the timing and wondered just what had warned the Dragonblood as they both prepared to shield Sirana from any physical threat.

Unfortunately there were a lot of bodies in the tent right then, and many of them defenseless against a dangerous prisoner. Matron Thalluen had returned for the third time over this past cycle, this time with her infant Daughter, Ruk, and Gaelan with Natia, the young female Shyntre remembered helping with the water greeting when he had stumbled to the home of Sirana's Mother.

His guess had been right; the girl given to Matron Thalluen by Elder D'Shea had belonged to a Red Sister. The good news was she wasn't one who had fucked him; Gaelan was too young, even as she had already had a child when the Sisterhood came for her. How often did that happen?

Gaelan had at least been able to introduce her Daughter to them, but as Shyntre recalled before, Natia wasn't only very shy but now the child had two Mother-figures to try to please, which caused further distraction and distress; the mage could relate. Ruk had been reticent as ever, and Matron Aurenthin had only just left after helping to tend to their comatose patient—feeding and cleaning, just like the baby in the Matron's arms—when everyone's thoughts no doubt turned to confusion or defense against a possible threat.

Clearly, the mindflayer could "hear" all that, and she prepared to move far too quickly to be considered non-threatening. The red armor she still wore was making strange, slithering sounds he hadn't been able to hear in the chaos of the fight, and her pale tentacles flexed slightly, draping just off her shoulders as she pushed up fluidly into a crouch. She was stripped of all weapons they had found, but that meant little given the nature of what she was, and no one could tell if she was about to attack or attempt escape. Shyntre already had a shield up while Mourn and Jael jumped to their feet, Ruk in motion to protect his young family and Gaelan pushing Natia behind her.

"Martivir," Lethrix growled low, and all within the tent paused, not as if frozen against their will, just...giving things a second thought.

This included Xalli'hoon. Shyntre couldn't read any expression in that mask, but she breathed quickly, one hand fisted and the other lightly touching the rock. She clearly felt threatened as she remained in her crouch, but she didn't run or attack.

Hearing the Dragon's Voice just now, Shyntre also realized just how much Lethrix was suppressing his aura around them. If he wanted, the lot of them would be sitting in a circle sipping taze with the mindflayer, but that would get them nowhere in the long-run. Everyone knew that.

*Sirana,* Shyntre signed, and those who mattered most in this first meeting noticed: Morix, Jael, Gaelan. They all nodded or signed agreement. They had to think of Sirana and her baby in deciding how to deal with this creature.

Morix tried first. "Do you understand our speech?"

Xalli'hoon tilted her head slightly, and Shyntre found himself looking for ears but couldn't see them at the moment. Fortunately she nodded, slow and deliberate.

"Do you understand you surrendered?" Morix continued, looking down at her with unblinking, gold eyes.

Another nod.

"Good. Then first, Lethrix is your guard. He will keep you from leaving."

Morix gave her a moment to glance behind her; the To'vah was sitting between her and the exit, watching with a benign gaze. While she did not seem afraid of him, she shifted her balance a bit to remain ready to move if needed.

"Surrendering makes you are our prisoner, and any act of aggression from you will provoke the same from us, though we do not wish to kill you. Cooperation will encourage better treatment. Do you understand?"

The mindflayer used the Drow silent tongue then. *Yes.*

Morix did not look away from her, but Shyntre, Jael, and Gaelan shared curious and concerned looks.

"No thoughts, suggestions, compulsions, or images pushed into our minds," he said sternly. "That is the first rule. All within this camp will find it unwelcome and invasive. To do so will be considered an act of aggression demanding self-defense. Show you understand."

Shyntre knew that change would have tripped up anyone only pretending to understand the language and conditions. In fact, their prisoner raised her hand as if to sign "yes" again, but paused as she comprehended the difference. That alone satisfied the Dragonchild's test, but they were still curious how she would choose to "show" it.

*No... penetrate any,* she signed, hesitant but in agreement.

Several within the tent shifted uncomfortably. No one was sure whether the sign choice had been intentional or not, but the intent was explicitly sexual.

Morix asked, "How much of our sign language do you know?"

Xalli'hoon hesitated. Her answer was similar to a child's, yet somehow more abstract. *Have no mind in hands.*

Morix nodded, relaxing some. "Not very well, then. Can you speak using our words?"

She shook her head, indicating the mask, its immobile, shell-like curves and multiple, blank "eyes" covered with tough membranes, giving them little idea how she really saw or smelled anything.

"Can you speak if you remove your helmet?"

Again she tilted her head as if to hear better, though Shyntre wasn't sure that's what it was. She raised her hands to sign something, paused, began, *We are One...*

"You are not One anymore, you are separate. And you must speak to us somehow. This is how individuals communicate without 'penetration.'"

She shook her head—at first Shyntre thought in refusal of this demand—but then she spread her hands on front of her torso and swept both hands down to her protected feet and back up to the top of her head. She signed again, *We are One.*

"She means the armor is one piece, I think," Jael murmured.

Xalli'hoon pointed at her. *Blood-thirst brute is yes.*

Morix's apprentice huffed a laugh. "Me? Who are you calling the 'blood-thirst brute,' you tentacled slit?"

Even though her mate placed a hand on Jael's shoulder, warning her to be calm, the returned insult didn't seem to strike home as their prisoner cocked her head in confusion and merely answered the question.

*You. Yes.*

Ruk had covered a smirk with his hand but said, "Jael, if I may, you are correct, the armor is one piece, and she's acknowledging you as a deadly opponent."

"Hmph," Jael grunted.

"How does she get in and out of it, then?" Gaelan asked.

"Maybe she doesn't," the Lead shadow said. "Didn't you describe her as a warrior-slave of the Elder Mind?"

Morix nodded, still speaking directly to Xalli'hoon. "Something on your back shattered during the psychic attack of the Driders. I could smell it. It tasted like what I remember of the Elder Mind."

Their prisoner shivered in distress. *You? Remember?*

"I do. I was very young, but Lethrix took me to see it. It smelled the same."

She nodded. *Command. How command.*

"And it is gone."

*Yes. Quiet.*

"Can your armor be removed?"

Her breathing quickened. *No.*

"Lying," Lethrix murmured, and Xalli'hoon jerked in surprise to look at him. He grinned at her. "Or, partly, anyway."

Morix reconsidered his wording with care. "Can you remove your own armor?"

She stole another glance at Lethrix and looked at the ground, back hunched in displeasure. *Yes. Will not.*

"You must speak with us."

*No wish speak.*

"I have no wish to keep you here, but I must. You must speak as a singular being."

The mindflayer almost visibly dug her heels in, withdrawing her cooperation for the moment.

"I noticed you haven't called...um, her anything yet, Morix," Matron Thalluen spoke up, having gathered some of her courage watching the interaction. "Why not? Has she a name or a title?"

Morix's tail curved slowly side-to-side. "The only name I am aware she's been given is a slur. I am willing to use something else, but I have no other name. I would like her to remove her armor so she can tell us a name."

*Meat speak insist name all poorly,* Xalli'hoon almost managed to grumble with her hands. *Any name is the next.*

"She's getting better," Jael said with a smirk. "I could read the tone in that one, even if it's half-babble."

"Yet if that were true, it wouldn't hurt, Xalli'hoon," Morix said, enunciating her name pure and deep.

Their prisoner finally moved out of her crouch and slumped down onto her backside. She braced herself on one arm with the other resting on a knee drawn up; it seemed like the most comfortable position she could get into short of lying down. She seemed to be staring at the floor, but no one could know for sure.

"So she wants to be called by a slur?" Matron Thalluen asked.

"She may believe she deserves it," Morix answered. "As an outcast."

Several inside that tent looked at the rest; Ruk actually spoke their thought with a dry tone. "Well. She is in proper company, then."

Xalli'hoon lifted her head to look at Ruk, and though he shifted slightly to shield Vekika and make it harder for Rohenvi to make eye contact with the armored creature, he himself did not blink.

*No 'proper' but corrupt one,* she signed, pointing at Sirana, and Ruk took it as a challenge.

He chuckled with a dark undertone. "Not true. All Drow become outcast from somewhere in their life. We make and break and remake again our bonds, alliances, our company. All of us here know well being cast out for not fitting in."

Xalli'hoon clearly understood this but she hated the idea; her sign was aggresive. *Chaos!*

"True. Nothing is permanent with Drow."

*No solid see! No better work! Collapsed tunnel!*

"She's starting to lose me," Gaelan murmured.

"Her thought process is quite abstract," Lethrix said. "Inherits it from her Elder Mind. But she's doing well, all considered."

"Yes, well, back to spoken words," Morix said, taking a step closer.

This immediately caught their prisoner's attention as she had to lift her chin high to meet his eyes now, and Shyntre ducked his head to see her throat. He couldn't; even that was covered by oddly hide-like armor.

"Our silent tongue varies by smaller groups more than our words do, Xalli'hoon. My guess is your hand sign is connected to whatever part of your mind you think Sirana corrupted, and you recall more of it simply watching us. But the Elder Mind knows more than enough common Drow language from making captures from various settlements that I say you can speak quite well, particularly if you could understand Ruk enough right now to debate with him about our social bonds. We can communicate effectively, if only you will remove your armor."