Undying Ch. 01-10

Inside, she found a steel and glass coffin, warded and closed with antique-looking elvish locks. This is where the power was coming from. She kept heating and freezing the stone, shattering it into smaller and smaller pieces until the wards sputtered out. It would have been nice to be able to use that power to tear open the coffin itself, but it would have tripped the wards she was trying to drain.

Peering into the coffin, the corpse wasn't laid out the way most were, for display. His hands were balled instead of laid peacefully flat. He also wore a black mask that looked bolted to the bottom of the coffin. The desiccated figure inside was, however, wearing an amulet. A glance around the room at the lack of anything else at all, not even doors, told her she must be in the right place. That had to be what she'd come for.

Syreilla shook her head, muttering, "Why do people not just burn the bodies of those they fear this much?" She snorted to herself, it was probably too easy. "Why do something permanent and easy when you can do something temporary and ridiculously hard." Yawning, she pulled out her tools. She could get this done and then get out of here. Sleeping here was no longer something she needed to do.

After longer than it should have taken, she stopped and resisted throwing her tools, tucking them back in their pockets. These elvish locks were more of a pain in the ass than usual. Syreilla paused rubbing her face, it looked like she would be sleeping here after all. On the floor or on a creepy godsdamned glass coffin.

Leaning on it she realized, "It's a glass coffin. Why in Hevtos' horrors am I working the locks? Syr, I swear, sometimes you are as stupid as an elf."

Flipping the heavy coffin, it landed with a crash but Syreilla didn't hear the glass break. Hevtos' balls. Well, at least it was upside down now. She lay down on the steel underside and tried not to think about the corpse under her as she fell asleep.

*Four*

The jarring impact stirred him from his slumber. Vezar's eyes opened in the blackness and he realized he was face down. His thoughts were sluggish but after some time he realized that, sealed in the stone sarcophagus, it should not have been possible. The mask was still bolted to the bottom of the coffin.

He was still trying to understand how he was face down when he felt someone climb onto the steel coffin. It felt as though they were lying down on it. Sleeping on top of him. Vezar seethed. Who would dare? He would make this disrespectful wretch shake with fear before he took his miserable life. There would be such pain.

Waiting, he tried to organize himself through the haze. The coffin would be opened and he would be able to kill and consume this man. A single scratch would give him what he needed and, after the traps they would have built into his prison, the man was assuredly injured. The sound of a light chain falling against the steel at his feet and no other sounds at all from the man made him consider how injured the man might be.

Vezar's thoughts slowly turned to the horror of being trapped here, awake and alone, unable to escape. A half-remembered thought fluttered at the back of his mind refusing to grow clear. His anticipation of killing this man turned to a growing dread of having come so close to freedom only to be left in a worse situation. How long would he have to wait for another to come this close? How long had it been?

The sounds of stirring above him were a relief. He listened as the locks were opened, with what felt like impressive speed. The hammering to free his mask from the coffin took longer and made him wonder how it had been affixed.

At last, the coffin was opened and a pleasant female voice spoke quietly, "There we are."

Her voice was like the feeling of silk on his skin. She cut off the amulet and the memories that had refused to come clear flooded him. That was the amulet's purpose, to muddy his mind to make him lash out to destroy the hope of... she was gingerly moving him. "Careful not to break you."

Unafraid. Unafraid to touch him. Vezar smiled under his mask. She was trying to be respectful, putting him back into his coffin as if he were meant to be at rest. He noticed she didn't try to lock the locks, for which he was grateful. It would have been difficult, if not impossible in his condition to get out if she had.

The half-elf was lovely and her presence felt like a blessing, a gift. Lifting his head slowly until the mask touched the glass, he watched her stealing his crown. He wondered how it was she could see in the dark. The jewel on the chain circlet she wore was the likely explanation. Vezar waited until she disappeared into the hole in the wall to open the coffin and climb out.

He followed at a slight distance, afraid that she would turn and see him. She was intent on getting out of the prison and she walked confidently as if she knew this place. Her acrobatics over and around the traps instead of disabling them impressed him as much as they annoyed him. Had she disabled them his own escape would have been easier, but seeing her ease was educational. He would put traps on the walls if he ever planned such a prison.

By the time he reached the portcullis, he was afraid she had already left. Vezar didn't give himself time to wonder what she had used to burn her way in, scoring the floor. He needed to see if there was any sign of where she had gone. He needed her. The last trap at the entrance almost caught him by surprise, had he not noticed the dried blood before stepping onto the plate it would have been painful.

And then he was out. Vezar blinked, looking around in the painful brightness, his eyes adjusting more quickly than a human's would, and there she stood. The half-elf was speaking to a jumbled, dismembered corpse at her feet. He strained to hear.

"You didn't deserve this. I will get you home, and I'll do it before I hunt that lich down and give him the amulet he wanted so badly." She looked so concerned.

"A cart would be helpful." Vezar offered. Helping her to get her friend home would make her grateful and more likely to give him what he needed.

Her head whipped around and she blinked at him. "It would. So would living long enough to actually keep my promise."

Vezar smiled under his mask approaching slowly. She didn't run. "Why would I kill you? You freed me."

*Five*

Waking in the pitch black it took Syreilla a moment to remember where she was. She immediately felt around for the circlet which had fallen off as she slept, pulling it back on with a relieved sigh. The room was still dim and she was still definitely alone despite the hair-raising sensation she'd felt of another presence as she woke.

It was easier to work the locks after having slept, her mind and fingers worked better after the rest. And the locks being upside down was actually helpful, damned elves. It still took more time than she would have liked to get them all open and heaving the steel coffin up was a struggle. It was built more as if it were intended to hold someone in than to hold someone at rest. She had to beat the bolts holding the mask to the bottom out with a brick to do it at all, the weight of the corpse along with the heavy steel of the coffin bottom, itself, was holding it down.

Kaddal probably would have had more appropriate tools for that. She would have had to disable every trap she'd come across to get him in, and he probably would have gotten killed at the warded corridor. Syr brought her focus back to the job at hand.

The amulet was on a simple leather strap, no clasp, just a knot on the side that she wasn't going to bother untying. "There we are." Syreilla cut it off with her slim boot knife and stowed it in her satchel. "Careful not to break you." Sliding him back into the coffin she closed the lid.

Stealing from the dead was one thing, being completely disrespectful about it was another. As she was leaving she noticed something on a pedestal near where she had broken the wall. With a closer look, she realized it was a crown. She checked it for traps with a grin. "No treasure my ass."

Lifting it, it was heavy, probably solid gold, and it had five fat gems. In this dimness, it was hard to tell their color but they were definitely dark. "Gorgeous." She wished she had a shirt or something to wrap it in as she fit it into her satchel.

Making her way out felt easier and quicker than getting in had. Syreilla felt like she was bursting with energy and excitement. Stepping out of the entrance of the Nameless into the light of the sinking sun, there was no longer anyone lingering. No lich, and no elves. They must have thought she'd died.

She started to laugh but quickly sobered, realizing that Kaddal was still sitting and rotting where she'd left him and she didn't have a horse waiting anymore either. Checking the track and taking a lap around the clearing to be sure, Syr took a moment to curse and throw some rocks into the trees. She walked back to the pieces of Kaddal, dragging a hand through her hair.

Standing over the pieces of what was left Syreilla sighed, "I should have been the first one in. You might not have been the brightest but you didn't deserve this. I will get you home, and I'll do it before I hunt that lich down and give him the amulet he wanted so badly." She just needed a way to gather him up and carry him.

"A cart would be helpful."

Syreilla's head snapped around. In the entranceway stood the corpse she had looted and carefully put back. "It would. So would living long enough to actually keep my promise." She watched, rooted in place as it moved toward her.

"Why would I kill you? You freed me." Its voice was dry but it didn't quite have the hideous sibilance of a lich's voice.

"People tend to frown on being robbed. You'll have to forgive me if that's what I expected you to focus on."

The rasping sound it made almost sounded like laughter. "A thief of the house of Olthon Camaenion. How charming."

"Olthon Camaenion? Sounds like an elf. I'm only half and they don't associate with the likes of us if they can help it. There were two here when I went in though, looking forward to laughing at my horrible death."

"Ah." He looked around the darkening clearing. "They left you?"

"Of course. I think they all thought I was dead." Syreilla shrugged.

"What house do you hold to?" It asked curiously.

Syr started to grin, "Clan Hammersworn. Batran Hammersworn bought me off of the headsman's block. I've more than paid him back but I'm fond of the man and glad to belong to his clan."

*Six*

The half-elf was a thief. If Olthon was still alive he would be mortified. Vezar couldn't stop smiling looking at her. In his eyes, she was delicate golden perfection.

At her confession, however, Vezar was grateful she couldn't see his face. Dwarves. Why would this delicate creature associate with dwarves?

"Things... have changed."

Even gratitude had its limits, sparing her from the block must have earned the dwarf a great deal of it.

"From the antique locks, I imagine you were in there a while." Her eyes raked over him making him feel unpleasantly aware of his appearance.

His name should bring to mind richer things, if enough time had passed perhaps his misdeeds had been forgotten. Wealth should be a memory that lasted especially for thieves. "Tell me, do you know me?"

"No, they call this place the Nameless, and I was told there was evil inside it, but beyond that..." Her complete lack of fear was captivating.

"And you came in without fear?" He almost added that nameless evil is the sort of thing wiser people avoided, it almost seemed she heard the words he didn't say.

Her reply was almost defensive. "I came in because I had a job to do. Kaddal took it and begged me to help. I said yes. Stupidly. If I'd known I'd be working for a lich I'd have never agreed."

He watched her shudder. She's afraid of and disgusted by a lich but not by me. "The lich wants the amulet." He couldn't hide his amusement. The amulet itself would be worthless, useless. The lich wanted him set free for some purpose.

"Yes. The crown I took on my own, that was just too pretty to leave." The coolly measuring look she gave him, waiting for him to show his fury as she carefully brought up stealing his crown... he began to laugh.

If she was concerned he could ease that quickly enough and get part of what he needed from her in the process. "Help me remove the mask and call me by my name and I will let you keep it."

"That seems more than fair." Her nod and grin told him she believed she was getting the better end of the bargain. "You'll have to tell me what your name is first, though."

"Vezar Edra, the Undying." He spoke his name with pride, waiting to see her reaction. Perhaps she would even kneel, a king without a throne is still a king.

"Vezar Edra, the Undying, let's get that mask off of you." Her mischievous grin was not the reaction he wanted, "Batran won't know what to do with himself if I bring him something he doesn't have to hide."

It was a struggle not to let his shoulders slump. She didn't know his name. He was a king. He sat with his disappointment and displeasure as she tried to take the mask off with her bare hands. Vezar wasn't certain it was possible to take it off that way. He almost opened his mouth to say so when it began to come free. Only someone of Olthon's line would be able to remove the mask, and now that she had spoken his name and removed it, it could not be used against him again.

He beamed at her as it came off, "What is your name, thief of Clan Hammersworn?" Now he needed her to give her name, and he would be able to bind her.

"Syreilla." She pursed her lips. "Please don't take this the wrong way Vezar, but you might want to keep a mask on. You might be undying but someone forgot to tell your face that."

The audacity! He opened his mouth to chide her but then began to laugh. She would be an entertaining companion if he pulled some of the roughness from her threads. He needed the rest of her name. "Syreilla, your mother gave you no other name?"

"She did. She thought she could make my father recognize me by giving me his name. But I'd rather eat my tongue than be called by it." Her eyes hardened and the smile she gave him was an icy imitation of amusement.

"Elves used to be more accepting of their half-human offspring." She was going to try to make it a challenge. Vezar wondered if she could read his anticipation.

"I don't know anything about that. All I know is they're not fond of humans or dwarves, but they can't stand half-elves. The feeling is generally mutual." The pain of rejection was clear on her lovely face, as was her loathing of elves. They had wounded her, and she longed to wound them back. It explained a great deal of her seeming affinity for dwarves.

Remembering that her friend was a half-dwarf, he inquired, "Dwarves embrace half-dwarves?"

Syreilla nodded and he thought she looked jealous. "Batran's mother is a half-dwarf, there's quite a few in Delver's Deep. Despite having me in his family he's well respected." Her pride was clear in the tilt of her chin and the smile gracing her lips. "Partly because I'm in his family he's rather wealthy. That helps, I think. He's even been trying to marry me off to a half-dwarf named Kaduil Hardjaw." The suggestion that she might marry a dwarf, even a half-dwarf, appalled him. She seemed to misread his expression and tried to explain, "The man is skilled and Batran wants him in the clan, he doesn't belong to one yet since his mother raised him among the humans for the most part."

Shaking his head, Vezar tried to express his surprise without sharing his disgust. "Wife. You and a half-dwarf."

The half-elf began to laugh, when she laughed she looked and sounded like pure joy. "I'm not the stay in the mine type. Kaduil needs that. He wants a wife he can see every day. I'm fond of him, but..." Her smile betrayed her longing to be what this Kaduil needed, it was like a knife twisting in his belly.

"Things have changed indeed." How could such a lovely creature desire a dwarf? If he could stay with her long enough to get all of her name he could bind her and prevent such an unnatural pairing. "Allow me to travel with you, I would see this new world at the side of someone who doesn't fear me." She should be at the side of a king.

Syreilla looked at him dubiously, it was obvious that his appearance disturbed her. The lovely creature would talk and laugh with him but the thought of traveling with him offended her sensibilities.

"My appearance troubles you?"

He watched the way her head tilted, something about the movement made her seem bird-like as she studied him.

"It'll cause problems, whether you're traveling with me or not."

The realization that she was concerned for safety, not vanity was pleasing.

"Ah. I can," he paused not wanting to explain fully, "alter it, but there are things I require. Is there a town nearby?" He would need to leave her here alone. Watching him refresh himself would make her run from him. Vezar needed to have her bound before he allowed her to see.

"A couple hour's walk. I can show you." Her helpfulness was sweet, but he needed her to stay.

"Point me in the right direction, Syreilla. I can find my way. I will return with a cart for us, and your friend." He smiled at her and saw her wince.

"I'm more than certain someone is going to try to kill you looking like that, Vezar. I should go with you to make sure no one cuts you up and sets you on fire. You look like kindling."

She was so earnest! His laughter spilled from him unstoppably, she had spoken his name and called him Undying but she seemed not to understand what that meant.

"My dear Syreilla, they have tried. Stay with your friend. I will return for you."

She would argue more, he knew it and waited for it with relish.

"At least take a knife." Drawing one from her boot, she offered it to him. The look on her face told him if he refused it she would be trailing him to the village.

The small slim blade could scarcely be called a knife. "This is barely a knife, Syreilla." She expected this to be protection? A thought crossed his mind, perhaps her ignorance was feigned. Perhaps she knew that his death had been foretold by a weapon of his own hand. He'd been careful to destroy every weapon he'd ever used after that.

"It cuts, and if you know what you're doing you can kill with it. What more do you need?" She crossed her arms and looked deeply insulted. It was difficult to judge if she knew of the foretelling or not but her affront at his words seemed genuine.

"Thank you, Syreilla. I did not mean to insult your knife," Vezar offered placatingly.

Her sharp look amused him.

"Come on, I'll show you the track." Syreilla pointed out a barely traveled forest track.

It would meet a narrow road she promised and he simply had to follow it to the left. Vezar set out confidently. He had not yet come to the road when a rider with a short-handled shovel strapped to his saddle rode into view.

Stepping immediately out of sight behind a tree he waited. In the dark beneath the trees, the rider hadn't been observant enough to catch sight of him and he was unprepared when Vezar grabbed hold and heaved himself up behind the rider. Clamping a hand over the man's mouth, he gouged his fingers into one of the man's eyes and began to consume him as the horse sidestepped and turned to run home in fear, bucking and twisting.

Vezar held tightly to the animal with his legs. He would break its ribs before it managed to throw him off. The feeling of life flowing into him was heady. The rider was a limp husk in a matter of moments. He needed more. The horse would take him to the village, he was sure. There he would have a feast like he had never had.