Surfacing Ch. 39

"The Sister Seekers," Mourn confirmed.

Her heartbeat picked up a bit. "I see. Congratulations. Krithannia desires very much to see them well."

"She will," Shyntre spoke up. "The dark-haired Noldor with the wisdom of her ancestors, right?"

Tamuril's eyes widened a bit, looking from Shyntre back to Mourn, and he nodded once.

"Do not fear, Druid. This knowledge came to them when it had to."

She did not reply, only exhaled quiet and somber a moment before offering a nod. Her eyes studied both Sirana and Gaelan. "And you brought your children back to the Surface."

"Hi, Tami," Gaelan said, muffled and blind in her wrappings but she bounced Natia once on her hip. "This is Natia, my Daughter."

This time the whimper was more confused than anything; the Drow child's mouth, eyes, and ears were all covered. She didn't know where to look at the introduction.

"She has a cute smile when she's not wrapped up like a stuffed grape leaf," Sirana added.

A quick chuckle slipped out of the Noldor's lips. "I will be patient to see it. And pinn'ionne?"

"Refusing to be still and constantly demanding to be fed. The usual."

Tamuril's smile was unguardedly beautiful when she heard that; it was a pity Sirana couldn't see it. "My eyes see you all with joy."

"I think you're the only one, but we appreciate the sentiment," Gaelan quipped.

Mourn thought it a good time to cut in. "I have a question for you, Tamuril."

"Yes, Mourn?"

"You walk atop the snow. I know how to do this as well but I haven't the strength to spare for all of us. Can you help any of them to walk as you do?"

Tamuril considered and offered an understated, wry smile. "The Deathwalker brought this up as a possibility to me when he heard from Krithannia about the detour. Yes, now I can. That is why I am here."

Mourn nodded in thanks, exhaling in silent relief to himself. *Thank the Father...*

Even now he felt himself growing too hot within his core to remain Awake much longer, and the roaring in his ears was louder than before. His weapons bracelets grew heavy with the strain of carrying Soul Drinker and keeping it under tentative control. Then there was the fact that he was consciously resisting his Sleep.

In a way he exalted in the awareness that he was *able* to resist, for the first time in his life, even as he lost ground to the urge in choosing not to merge his unique hybrid's aura with Sirana's equally strange one, blending To'vah and psionics and life magic until it broke the rules of his kind. A unique advantage, as it turned out, for the missions he had taken upon himself.

But Sirana wouldn't be pregnant forever; inevitably she would change further, just as he would, and it would end with her first contraction. If their auras ever merged again after that, Mourn and Sirana would have to relearn how. He knew it was best not to become addicted to anything simply because it helped accomplish his goals, but most certainly he should avoid clinging to something with such a clear and imminent end point.

His heartbeat was low and seemed to speak to him as Tamuril answered a question of Jael's and he struggled to refocus as impressions of further storms swirled before his eyes.

*Sleep...Sleep...Sleep...*

"Not yet," he whispered.

"Hm?" Sirana turned her nose toward him. "What?"

"Nothing," he said louder, focusing on the Druid. "If you will help us walk, Tamuril, we should get moving before the Sun rises."

*******

Blind and well aware of the cold deepening yet further as the night continued, we made it carefully down off that first mountain and began moving through the deep valleys and ravines. Even though they were filled with a stunning amount of snow—twice Mourn's height, according to Tamuril—they were the flattest expanses upon which to walk if the problem of sinking beneath the surface of the snowflakes was temporarily alleviated by our Druid's magic. We could remove the rope tying us together for the moment, and we all had a little extra breath to talk and walk without breaking into a sweat.

"You're doing well," Tamuril said in modest encouragement to Auslan and Shyntre, even not able to see their faces, and they couldn't see hers. "I can imagine the strangeness you meet now, head-on with precious little time to absorb it. Your courage is admirable and Krithannia and I have sworn to protect your well-being and your new freedom however we can."

I was willing to bet Shyntre's body language was wary; he would be trying to "hear" the real meaning in her Common words but probably wasn't finding it. Auslan could really only nod and take it at face value; it was possible there were several words he hadn't even understood.

"Thank you...ah, Tamuril."

The Druid herself paused hearing the Consort's voice and his heavy accent for the first time, muffled and unclear though it was, and I wondered what expression she held right then. I waited for a hint in her response, if any.

There wasn't.

"What does it mean to be 'sworn,'" Shyntre asked.

Tamuril did not sound as surprised as she might have been. "It means we have made a promise to ourselves to act in this fashion toward you both, Dark Priest."

"Promise to yourself?" Shyntre repeated.

"Yes. We decided, and make it known to you. As an oath."

"You do not yet know we are what you *think* we are."

She paused, as if she studied him, and I wondered if her confidence was born of the fact that he couldn't stare back. "I see two linked and very strange auras, Shyntre. Even rejecting that you are the Sister Seekers, you will need allies, watchers, and protectors. There are a great many figures who would want to claim you and your Brother."

"So give me some names," my sorcerer challenged her, raising his voice some in cynical exasperation. "You can't expect us to recognize such dangers with a vague warning like that."

"I'm sorry, you are right, of course," Tamuril apologized, sounding a bit intimidated, and I would have given a lot to see Shyntre's face right then.

"Is he, Tami?" Jael pushed back, as a Drow female would. "Shyntre hardly even let you continue your 'vague warning.' That's his impatience, not your fault, and not his right to treat you like that."

"Pot and kettle, Jael," my sorcerer griped back. "But I get your point."

"Then apologize."

"Not because you say I should, littlest Sister."

"Well, fuck you, then."

"I...I don't understand," the Druid said meekly, turning her voice toward me, then toward our leader up front.

Mourn spoke first, as I wasn't sure where to step in this particular argument.

"Shyntre is used to fighting with females every step of his path, Tamuril," he rumbled thoughtfully, more as a matter of statement than any judgment. "And he was accustomed to their brutality for his disobedience until only recently. Like you and myself, he has earned his freedom at a heavy price. He is testing his new empowerment with a new female, but with more force than necessary because he doesn't know you."

Shyntre huffed through his scarf. "I thought Sirana was the mind reader, Morix."

"You and I are more similar in this than you might think, Dark Priest," the Dragonblood said without turning his eyes from our path. "But for now, why not let Tamuril answer your question?"

"Fine." Shyntre sounded to have turned in the Druid's direction again. "I apologize, Tamuril, I wasn't trying to pick a fight. Will you tell me more of Surface enemies we should look out for?"

Tamuril exhaled in thought; maybe she signed with Mourn about who would be alright to mention, for all I knew, except she said something I didn't expect.

"Your...Common tongue is very good, Shyntre."

"Um." He was as surprised as I was. "Thank you. I studied it for years."

I smiled at certain memories, definitely sounding suggestive. "And he taught Surface Common to me in between a lot of those constant fights with females, didn't you, 'wizard'?"

Shyntre allowed himself a brief, closed-mouth laugh. "Hm. Except you've become better than me. You have less accent."

"Gavin's doing. Unless you're talking to the Guild, then I have one. I sound like a Manalara monk."

"Which is what he was once, right?" Gaelan asked to confirm.

"Right. Although not to get distracted more." I waved my hand in a continuance gesture in Tamuril's direction. "Please, continue. Who is the top figure you'd say would want my Goddess Priests? I have a wager with myself."

"Lord Indrath," she said, the undercurrent of fear obvious despite that she tried to hide it.

"Did you win?" Auslan asked me in quiet amusement, making the effort not to fall straight to fear hearing that.

"Yep," I answered with a smart nod. "Called it."

"Hm."

"What does he look like?" Shyntre asked.

Tamuril spoke for a bit longer uninterrupted. "I imagine he can take any form he chooses, but to us he appeared an Infernal Elf of unmatched beauty. If you come to Gavin's Tower and the Ice Lord visits the Herald, be very wary of his charm if you must be in his sight, although I would not recommend it. He can... make you want his approval, it will seem like a good idea to agree to do something for him. Or agree to go with him."

Mourn grunted, seemingly in agreement, and she probably received a sign to continue.

"I am less familiar with the Infernal than I am the Abyssal," Shyntre said. "What makes an Elf of Miurag touched by the Hells?"

Tamuril took another breath, holding down her anxiety from her memories of that meeting. "Leathery wings like Morix's, but red in color. And very smooth. Um. Horns of ivory."

"Ivory? What is that?"

"Um...white antler? But stronger, smoother."

"Alright. Go on."

"His skin and face...tan and flawless, but with a strange red undercolor. He is...stunning."

"Unnatural beauty, ivory horns, and wings," Shyntre repeated. "Do all powerful devil-bloods have those traits?"

"More often than demons do," Mourn answered, "but no, not all. Some devils can be just as ugly as a contorted spawn of the Void."

"More than the appearance, it is the...feeling, I think," Tamuril said. "The temptation ...they promise you Order. Protection. Prosperity. The demons...?"

"The demons promise Chaos," I joined. "They promise deconstruction. Subversion. Release from restraint and freedom to indulge."

"Very good," Mourn complimented me. "And yet despite their promises to mortals to join their eternal battle, they use similar methods and hold to similar goals."

"And...their goals?" Auslan asked.

"To win. At the expense of all others. Neither side can be trusted to act to preserve anything or anyone which can be exploited. No balance is ever maintained for long."

"Same could be said about the Dragons," Jael tested, and if she wasn't wearing a blindfold she might've been squinting her eyes thoughtfully at him.

"If you leverage my Sire as the sole example of all Dragons, Jael—"

"Actually, no, Lethrix proved he wasn't like a devil or a demon," I spoke up. "He preserved when he could have exploited, over and over again. He banished a demonic High Priestess who *was* exploiting us at our rejection of her, but not before. He's a Guardian of Miurag, just like he said, and despite his manipulation of our race, what I could see of it was on a level with individuals making choices. He had no intent to rule or dominate a people."

"Thank you, Sirana," the Dragon's son rumbled. "Well said. And not every To'vah is like my Sire, though they all have the same title of Guardian."

Tamuril was quiet now, and listening carefully I'd wager, but she asked no questions to further the tapestry of what we'd openly given her out in the open beneath the Stars.

"Alright, that's very interesting," Shyntre said, sounding pleased with the information as well. "Who would be the second most dangerous figure to us as Sister Seekers, Tamuril?"

"Um?" she asked, the sound high with anxiety.

"Your opinion. It doesn't have to be 'right,'" the sorcerer added, demonstrating a bit more empathy with the Druid.

"Well..." she thought aloud. "Of those known to be actively hunting Dark Elves, the second may be the Archmage, Cris-ri-phon."

"We know him," Auslan murmured through his face mask.

"Is this opinion through your experience, or Sirana's," Shyntre tested.

"Sirana's," Tamuril answered without hesitation. "Though he was certainly frightening at Manalar, and he tried to steal her again. Once he is aware she has returned to the Surface..."

"We have allies to fight him," Mourn said.

"Except the two are connected and could allies as well," I said. "Indrath and Cris-ri-phon. They have some history between them, and the link is Soul Drinker."

How could I ever forget that detail with how the black dagger had been shrieking at me when Sarilis "called" his patron?

"Sirana?" Shyntre prodded. "What are you thinking?"

"The...Goddess, the way it screamed around Lord Indrath," I said with a grimace no one could see. "The demon inside who 'drinks' the souls and tries to overwhelm the wielder is from Ice Heart, I know that much."

Mourn slowed, then stopped, and the rest of us followed suit as I heard him turn around, presumably to look at me.

"What do you know of Ice Heart, Sirana?"

"I don't, really," I said. "Only got the impression it was in Indrath's territory. I mean, the name, yes?" I shrugged and moved on. "But that's where the soul-drinker demon was trapped. A Devil Lord imprisoned a powerful Abyssal demon in a cursed blade. Then gave it to Cris-ri-phon to give to Innathi."

Mourn stayed still, considering. "Interesting. I wonder about the timing."

"What do you mean?" Jael asked.

"Rrrmm," he rumbled. "I wonder if this same demon was present when Cris gave it to Innathi? Or did it come later, after the Queendom fell and its many artifacts scattered?"

I thought about that. "Alright. You've got a point, I might have the order of events wrong. Although speaking of that..."

"Soul Drinker is still within my weapons cuffs, Sirana," he assured me, "as it has been since we brought Innathi out of it inside the demons' chamber."

"And can it talk to you?"

"Not directly."

"Are you feeling anything from it?"

"Yes, I am. It makes me fight constantly to keep it quiet. It weighs heavy and tries to grind me down."

I wished I could see his face right then, or at least his eyes. His tone was worrisome.

"How much time do we have?" I asked again.

"I do not know," he answered, yet again. "Let us keep moving."

~You're the one who stopped...~ I thought that but I bit my lip, not saying it.

"The wedding gift of the Queen's marriage," Jael muttered as we started walking atop the snow again. "I want that whole story."

"Would it help anything?" Gaelan asked, shifting Natia up further again on her back. She hadn't been saying much so far, and her Daughter may have been drifting in an out of sleep. "What I want to know is why the dagger Queen thought anyone in House Aurenthin was a distant cousin of hers. Just because Jael and Innathi resemble each other somewhat, and the name was close enough to her royal title?"

Jael probably shrugged. "Fuck, I dunno. No one knows if Ishuna ever had any children. Could even be that simple: it was just an insane, lonely move on her part and stupid luck we look like the Baenar of the old Queendom more than anyone else. I mean, who's left that would even be able to tell us anymore?"

"Ishuna had son," Auslan murmured, almost too quiet to hear but enough of us caught it to stumble to a halt.

"What?" Shyntre asked. "What are you talking about?"

The quiet healer hesitated to say more; maybe he was sorry he'd spoken.

"Auslan?" Jael asked, sounding at her most kind and patient. "Please. Go on. What do you know?"

"Let us walk," the Consort-healer suggested, his Common still very rough. "I not to make you stop... again. Morix needs us move."

"But you'll tell us?"

"Yes."

Auslan didn't tell until we were again weaving through the ravines and frozen, snow-covered valleys beneath the mountains, heading toward that one peak Mourn had shown me but which I had no way to tell how close we were.

"As Ishuna lay die, I...listen to her. Her aura and essence... crying out together, for the first time in...so long. I let her call me 'son' to...to protect Shyntre, it was him she want see. It would hurt no matter...he need to be shield..."

Auslan paused, and no one said a damned thing to interrupt his halting speech. The night was incredibly quiet outside our careful footsteps. I remembered clearly the physical damage done to his healer's hands when he'd touched the dying Valsharess with Vic and Halena watching over him. I remembered afterward we had to find some place safe for me to bring his mind and his courage back out after that, because he only wanted to hide from the despair and the pain.

Was it not just an Abyssal attack, then? Was it something else?

"Ishuna had... a son," Auslan said again, but as though his mind was foggy and he was trying to make sense of what glimpse he saw. "On the Surface. He never...known by Innathi. It was Ishuna's fear and... un-trust of Cris-ri-phon's children. She hid him in a House. She tried forget him, but time come when the Spider Queen demands sacrifice of two who still weaken her will to serve."

"Two?" Jael asked.

"Yes. Sister, Innathi, and..." Auslan paused to think. "Mazdel. Her son."

Mourn stopped so abruptly this time, and Jael was so entranced by the story she ran into him. I heard them steady each other, and then the hybrid spoke. There was an edge to his tone.

"Mazdel?"

"What, Morix?" Auslan asked, sounded worried. "You know... this name?"

The hybrid hesitated, and I truly wished I hadn't missed seeing that genuine, visceral reaction.

~Don't lie,~ I tried.

~I do not,~ Mourn bit back, sounding as on edge in his mind as he did when he spoke.

"I do not know the name of this Baenar," Mourn growled, "but it is very close to the known name of the To'vah living in the Red Desert."

"Tell us," Shyntre said.

"Mazdek."

I frowned. Mazdek...Mazdel. "Could she...could Ishuna have named her son after the Dragon of the Desert?"

"She could have," my sorcerer granted, "or it could be coincidence. Unless you'd disagree with me, Auslan?"

"Please, walk," the healer reminded us. "I have said as I know."

"Nothing else?" Shyntre asked.

"Not now. If I dream, I will tell."

"In which House did she hide Mazdel?" Jael asked bluntly. "Was it mine?"

Auslan nodded. "In part. Blade Song House."

"D'Shauranti," Mourn growled, even lower than before.

"How old was he when Ishuna sacrificed him?" I asked. "Please answer. Look, I'm walking. Fair trade, right?"

My healer took the opportunity to reach back and clasp my forearm opposite of my marrowcaster, offering a quiet chuckle. And yes, we kept walking.

"I...know not certain," he said, still making the valiant effort to practice his Common so Tamuril could understand. "Young, but grown when died."

"Old enough to have sired children," Shyntre stated. "Young like you and me."

Auslan nodded. "Yes. Ishuna not seek answer. Mazdel not...his name to any but her."

"So she could have named him after the Dragon, if privately, and there'd be no records," Jael said, sounding stunned. "And we really could have the fallen Valsharess's blood in our House."

"Damn," Gaelan commented. "But then...who's alive to even confirm anything like that?"

"Mazdek, clearly," Shyntre said, his mind fully engaged. "If the connection is positive. Could also explain why Lethrix had such an odd relationship with our Valsharess as well, if he wasn't her first or only Dragon contact. What do you think, Morix?"

The half-blood in the lead grunted, and it sounded irritable. "'Odd' relationship with my Sire? What do you mean, Priest?"

"I don't know, does it have anything to do with why you were worried Ishuna 'knew' your Sire's name when you were first wrangling with Sirana for her cooperation? I mean, he has so *many* names."