Surfacing Ch. 39

"None have understood its nature as you have. You have the key."

"So do you. You have seen the Elsewhere, To'vah-krav" the Infernal Elf sniffed, now sounding a bit annoyed. "The red rune dagger is the permanent gateway to that place. It cannot be destroyed any more easily than other gods and armies may try to destroy Miurag."

"It is not the Elsewhere that is the danger to Miurag, beyond some souls slipping through."

"Oh?"

"It is the hunger, and that hunger is not part of the Elsewhere. That hunger screamed in terror of this place, over and over, when you appeared at the Ley Tower. Ice Heart. It was in pain."

Indrath grinned, nodding toward Morix's wrist with a smooth, unnerving chuckle. "As you are, Sleeping Son?"

His attention drawn away from the Infernal Elf, he glanced down and abruptly became aware of it once again. The pain. The fire and crackling lightning now shooting up his arm from where the relic would be on his Sleeping body. A few of his glossy, black scales seemed to glow and temper as if he had laid his hand within a forge's fire.

*RrrrrrrRRRAARGH...!* the Dragonchild cried inside his mind, swallowing the roar itself so as not to shake the collapsed throne room further.

"Do you wish to hear what it has been screeching this entire time?" Indrath asked, playful and coy. "As soon as Kran stepped out, it has not stopped protesting. You simply could not hear it, child."

The Ice Lord raised his bare hand, ready to snap his fingers. "Let us fix that. Then we may bargain for so rare a coin, Morixxyleth."

The air cracked within Indrath's hand, filling his ears and heralding the howling maelstrom of the unending Hunger. It descended upon him with all the weight and power of a Sky-high waterfall as the pain spread from his wrist up his foreleg to his broad, scaly shoulder; it triggered reflexes in one wing, then the other. Morix lowered himself to his belly so as not to roll off the mound of stone keeping him level with the Ice Lord across the room.

"NOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! STOP! STOOOOP IIIIIT! DO NOT! WE BEG, DO YOU HEAR?! WE BEG YOU, CHILD! OUR CHILD OF SHHADOW AND ICCCE!"

Morix's head filled with Soul Drinker's shrieks; it seemed his ears should bleed from the demonic, twisting pitch. He forced his eyes open as he trembled to retain firm grip of his own will, trying to see Indrath as he was.

Not as he once had been.

The son of the Tilabil. The offspring of the Heart. Each stared back at Morix—as One—through that beautiful face, a contemptuous sneer for the greater demon bound to the red run dagger.

"I am no child of yours," the Ice Lord said to the relic, "and you are no parent of mine."

*********

It grew to be pure pleasure to me, learning so much more, and watching the others learn as well. Gradual changes over the weeks saw both Natia and Auslan speaking Common with more confidence, and Shyntre not only refined his written hand with Ragura's hints but rigorously tested Auslan as well. Natia could write her name and count well beyond her own age in Common.

Not only did Jael, Shyntre, and I manage a few more excursions outside—including the search for a quality phallus or two—but Gaelan and Auslan ventured out as well, each receiving their own impressions of the first Human city they had ever seen. Natia could not manage the courage much beyond the stables, the noise of the streets was too much and we did not push her.

All of us were learning tips and methods for managing our own place beneath Gavin's Tower as well—things Jael's and my Mothers already knew, but better tweaked for the Surface—and we got along with the Dwarves as long as we pretended no superiority over them. Given how much we were relying on them to stay hidden, fed, entertained, and comfortable, no one argued that angle—and I was fairly sure no one was thinking it, either. We worked to earn our keep, and in some ways it did feel like we were building something new.

Ragura could not be more pleased as a Midwife than to have the opportunity to observe me up close, put her hands on me from time-to-time to check our health, and to be able to ask Gaelan questions, particularly concerning her giving birth to Natia.

"Ye mean tha' child is aged twenty-five years?" the Midwife had asked, her plump mouth wide open. "She resembles a kid a third that age among Humans. Easily half with Dwarves!"

Gaelan and I could only shrug. It had already taken some convincing to assure her I'd already been pregnant for over a year now and still had months to go. Ionne's growth slowed, just as Gaelan had told me it would, and gradually my meals became less frequent, if no smaller. The red-haired Dwarf had noticed I wasn't getting any bigger over the last two months and that I wasn't eating quite as much. She was concerned, thinking me ill, which had kicked off this entire conversation.

"Don' suppose the babes stay helpless fer a decade or more once they come out?"

"More like two years," Gaelan said. "Then they grow quickly until they're Natia's size, then slow down again for a few decades. They stay small until they're mentally ready to challenge larger siblings, then they grow again. An older youth is a youth until they're ready to mature, then they grow quickly to look like Jael."

Ragura shook her head. "How often does an Elf slow down an' speed up in their lives?"

Gaelan pointed at me. "Four or five times, until we hit Sirana's age. Our first hundred years. Then it's a slow, steady crawl up until we die."

"Which we know can last as long as two and a half millennia," I added, "though it's not common."

"Amazin'," the Midwife muttered.

Talov visited us a few times more often than Krithannia over the weeks—they each assured us it was Guild business keeping them busy—and it took some coaxing, but Natia eventually sat on the greybeard's lap as he'd offered each time he saw her, still squeezing her stuffed bear and staring up at him in fascination.

"Never saw an Elf young as you in me long life," he told her. "Yer very brave comin' up with yer Ma. Have ye been outside yet?"

She nodded, needing no help understanding him now. "Smelly."

He shook with laughter. "Always that in cities. Like the mountains better?"

Natia shook her head. "They scare me. The snow tried to eat me. Still have bad dreams..."

"Really?" Talov didn't laugh this time and even combed his beard as he thought on it. "I might've seen that happen a time or two tah a Guildsman. I believe ye. Ye wanna tell me yer story, Natia? What happened?"

I straightened up from what I was working on, peering over at the old Dwarf with Gaelan's Daughter. Natia wasn't leaning against him at all, and he kept his hands on the arms of the chair and not on her as he'd learned what she preferred—which wasn't to be cuddled like a tedi bear—but she *was* talking to him. My niece was telling him her fears as he gently guided her through it, step-by-step, and he willed her to believe she would come out the other side and be alright. It wasn't a conscious choice; she simply believed it or she didn't.

The sight struck me deeply, even with the story itself a case of the memory being worse than the event itself. I remembered how he'd done the same for me following my collapse in the crypt at Manalar, when I'd remembered the event itself was much worse than any spoken recollection I had of it. Talov's voice was the same here with Natia—non-judging, empathic, patient—but adjusted for the proper age and circumstance. It held all the wisdom of the Storyteller among the Wilder.

~Wish he didn't have to die so soon,~ I thought to myself, noticing the pain he tried to conceal in his joints and the weather-spots on his face and hands, as well as the subtle scent of decay, where his body was not rebuilding itself as fast as it was breaking down.

Still. Chances were good Talov would be able to hold Ionne as he had said he wanted, and it was even possible my son might form a memory of him independently before he passed. He wasn't on the cusp of Death, from what Ragura would tell me, though Gavin could probably be a bit more precise about that and I intended to ask, given the opportunity.

Barring violence or accident, Talov's death shouldn't come as a surprise.

"GrandDa" Talov and Natia's conversation began to wander away from the Elf-eating snow, and a bit later something else caught my attention.

"So yer Ma hasn't gone near one side o' th' library."

"No. She says it stinks."

"I reckon she knows a treasure ignored by its air-drake tends tah let out grand blasts of farts in protest o' bein' ignored."

"Ew!" Natia started to giggle. "It does not!"

"How would ye know?" he asked, poking her gently in the ribs with one stubby finger and receiving another giggle and a light smack from her small hand. "Dragon treasure has magic o' its own, ye know. Takes on part o' th' essence of the beast itself, an' Graul in his younger days would pass gas just to get me attention or make comment."

Natia continued smiling and rubbing her face against the top of her bear's head, but then something seemed to strike her and she looked up at Talov's crinkled eyes again. "So the gold misses Graul?"

"An' Gaelan can tell, she can taste it. Or she can smell it." Talov shrugged. "Maybe she feels guilty. Maybe it feels unclean, or burdensome. I dunno." He glanced up at me, and we briefly met eyes before looking back at the girl. "But 'tis hers if she wants it. Tell her that."

Later on the next day, I found Krithannia and Jael talking in the nazein. Both were exercising at the same time, and if they'd been discussing anything really private before I'd arrived, it wasn't obvious.

"So does it ever snow here?" Jael asked after completing her chin-up and dropping down. "I've been outside four times now, once even after Sunrise, and it's been chilly and damp, but nothing like Winter in the Mountains."

I began my stretches as they each welcomed me with a nod.

"Rarely," the dark-haired Noldor answered. "Sometimes it will get cold for a day or even several in a row. It can snow, or some small amount of rain can freeze, but it does not last. Augran rests among lowlands and is not that far from Manalar, where snow is even rarer. Rising up among mountains from any large body of water like the Great Lake means air freezes more easily and quickly, and you will see longer times of Winter."

"You're hearing this, right, Sirana?" Jael checked, and I rolled my eyes and nodded.

"I'm having Ionne at the Ley Tower. Next Winter. I got it, Jael. We will be underground in the Dwarven fortress, you will hardly know it's freezing outside as long as we store enough food." I sat and stretched forward and just missed touching my toes thanks to my belly. Damnit. "Besides, I like the green seasons better in the mountains than down here. It is too hot, and the air is sticky."

Jael shrugged. "I remember. Guess there's a trade-off."

I gave her my most seductive smile. "Oh? The biggest benefit I see is you can go outside any time you want, night or day, no illusion necessary. You'll have the privacy, we can hunt, ride, bathe, fuck, whatever. Anything."

Jael's face warmed up and she couldn't hold back the grin. "Like the pool at Retreat?"

"Mm-hm. Or the fight with Mourn afterward? You want to play 'Chase' with him or fly on his back—"

"Oh, yeah," she said on an exhale, and she shivered. "Alright. Sold me. Lots to balance out the butt-fucking cold Winter."

Krithannia smiled knowingly between us as we bantered, toning and practicing her balance using one of the padded wooden beams. She said nothing.

"So," Jael turned to her, "Mourn will be able to visit both places frequently, right? You said Gavin's agreed to reopen the Guild's gate there."

She nodded. "Rodge and his guards along with the necessary mages and engineers are heading to the Tower now to begin the plans for rebuilding. It will take some weeks yet as they must also move the special stones and supplies through the gate back to where you came through, and carry them a week through snow and rough terrain to the Ley Tower."

"Shouldn't they wait until the snow melts?" I asked.

"Mourn could Awaken long before that happens and the mudslides and snowmelt will not make it any easier," the Pale Elf replied soberly. "Gavin has servants who feel no cold or exhaustion to help us, and Tamuril and Pilla can guide. Better to begin working now."

I nodded. No doubt the Dwarves simply loved the challenge as well. From what Ragura had told us of all Dwarves seeking "contentment" in their "hear-song job," I imagined telling them anything "wasn't the right time" to get working on it just riled them up and made them more determined to find a solution. Krithannia had some good points, though.

"So..." Jael began again, and Krithannia paused in her leg lifts to look at her. "Yeah, um...does Yinyue-lun... You know the steep hills to the West of here?"

"Yes?" Krithannia prompted.

"Does Mourn have a cache there as well?"

The Noldor smiled patiently. "What makes you think I know where all his caches are, Jael?"

"Nothing solid, but," my little Sister tried to explain. "I just want to explore that area especially. And I don't know why. Every time we go walking, I'm looking that way. I feel it."

"Interesting," Krithannia granted. "I could not speak for why you feel this way, Jael, but...while I do not know where it is I can tell you that, yes, he does have a cache in those hills somewhere. He began splitting his up hoard shortly after establishing himself in Augran, and while the one attached to the library was the first, I believe the Yinyue-lun hills was the second location. He spread out from there, but I never asked the extent or specifics. All I do know is these two parts are the closest together of any other cache."

"Which might create a bit of its own Ley Line, hm?" I asked.

Krithannia blinked at me in astonishment. "Why would you say this?"

"Trying to figure a reason Jael would feel energized walking between the two points. And you said placing Mourn atop his hoard while he Slept would make him stronger and some things in his Dream easier, or that he might Wake sooner."

"I did," she confirmed. "And all essentially true. For what it is worth, it is less a Ley Line and more a scent trail. But only he or Graul have ever been able to detect it."

I glanced at Jael then looked back, quirking my eyebrow. The Guild Mistress sighed.

"Point granted. A To'vah mage bonded to him may be able to scent such a trail."

"Hey, at least you didn't suggest I was his familiar," Jael said, seeming at ease with the possibility.

"I know you are not," Krithannia assured her. "But even so, because of your bond I believe it will be you he seeks first when he Wakes. I hope he does not scare you but if he catches us off guard and we are under-prepared, my suggestion would be simply to submit no matter what you feel. You could be injured if you injure him first, but know he will not wish to harm you. He will only want sex."

Somehow this "warning" made Jael grin even wider. "Sounds like a plan!"

The older female shook her head in bemusement; I was watching the Pale Elf carefully.

"So you have been in that spot before, right?" I asked. "That's what you're saying."

Her steel grey eyes met mine contemplatively. "He did not target me every time, there were a few others besides Letti, or he was far away at the time. But yes, I have always made myself available to him in that state as needed, as it is better for all concerned that he not steal someone unaware."

"Has he done that?" I asked. "That you know of?"

Krithannia pursed her lips. "I have not been at every Waking nor is he required to share those details with me, but the potential is there. Mourn is not like himself at first, he is almost a stranger until he realizes he is truly Awake once again."

The Noldor paused and levelled her eyes at me in a way I understood. "Sometimes a simple 'missive' spell striking the fore of his mind could shake him out of it. He would still desire pleasure and food in equal measure, but he remembered how to speak with me, remembered who he was, which made a difference."

I nodded. "Noted."

Jael plucked at a crease in her linen bottoms. "What was he doing before if he wasn't talking? Snarling and barking?"

Krithannia was amused with the mental image. "Actually, he was frighteningly quiet. It was hard to read him, I could not tell his intention the first few times. Graul would warn us—me in particular—just as the Waking happened, so at least I was never stalked or my heart may have stopped from his 'Fear' aura."

"His...huh?" Jael asked.

"Like Lethrix, you mean?" I asked and Krithannia raised a brow.

"Mourn has not used it on you," she said after a moment, and we shook our heads.

"I didn't know he could do it, too," I admitted.

"Oh, he can. And his restraint is far less when he is in transition from the Sleep of his Sire to the half-blood Elf he has always been. Over time I decided the two simply cannot Wake up together. It is as if the Elf is subverted completely until such a time as the Dragon has sated its basic needs at the end of a long Sleep."

"How many times would he...?" Jael began. "Um."

"Five or six," Krithannia granted her. "I was always sore afterward."

Jael glanced at me. I barely had to nudge her to glean her thoughts as the three of us performed a few more exercises.

~Sounds like fun,~ she said with gleeful anticipation.

~Don't provoke him into getting too rough with you.~

~Why would I do that?~

~I don't know, you're as stubborn as he is with less discipline? But if he hurts you, it'll only hurt him when he comes aware and it'll make it harder for both of you.~

I felt her agreement. ~Got it, Sirana. I won't push for that. Promise.~

~In fact, if I'm around I'll probably do that little 'missive' thing to make him aware faster.~

~Oh, come on!~ she whined, abruptly upset. ~I wouldn't expect *her* to understand, but *you* get it, Sirana! Don't psionically curb his enthusiasm, please?~

~Krithannia's saying it could be dangerous, and he's *much* bigger than you.~

~And you wouldn't care a bit if you weren't pregnant and getting more cautious by the day,~ she accused. ~Besides, think of it like it's my reward for keeping my promise and waiting for him.~

~You should keep your promise regardless.~

~And I will! But you don't have to bring him around on a leash like he was a Draegloth to a Priestess.~

I grimaced. ~That's low.~

~It's also true,~ she barked. ~Don't fucking interfere that way.~

~If he hurts you—~

~I'll submit! He won't have reason to. I trust him. And a little scratch or two doesn't count in a good fuck, it's always worth it. Remember, you've been there, you know how danger tastes. You'll probably be craving it again when you're not protecting Ionne with every breath! Come on, Sirana, I want this. Promise me.~

She heard a mental sigh, and I completed a few sit-ups while Krithannia wasn't aware of the argument between us.

~If I hear a certain pitch of scream from you,~ I promised, ~I'm going to stop him with every bit of Will I have. Otherwise...have fun.~

Jael nodded. That had to be good enough for now.

**********

Morix was gripping his trembling wrist as it contorted with pain, but there was nothing to remove, no weapons cuff, no rune dagger which could be separated, no relief. He had brought this other consciousness along in his Sleep intentionally, and he could only release it once he returned to the sands from which he'd sprung. He would have to get out of Ice Heart first to do that, and he was far from having an opening to try.

The To'vah-krav had come here to bargain, and so it began at his own disadvantage.

"You do understand, do you not?" Indrath asked, taking one step down from the exit's platform, his leather sarong flowing behind him while Kran remained motionless at the exit.