Undying Ch. 11-15

Her face flushed and she nipped his lip. "You'll be staying home with me then? Naked in the house is only fun when you're here."

"The forges can do without me." Kaduil started to push her back on the bed and then thought better of it, "While you're feeling better, we should go."

She put the thin slippers on with a grimace and stood. "I liked the other idea better."

He gave her a playful slap on her rump, "You're coming back home with me, Syreilla. You'll be bent over the bed soon enough."

Grinning, she shook her head, "Such a charming husband I have." She laughed and pulled the skirt up to be able to run as he came after her swatting her each time he got close enough.

In the main room, Batran was waiting with a pleased but confused expression. Kaduil explained with a smile as he took hold of Syr's hand. "It was like this yesterday, like the spell was broken."

Syr winced. "It's like I forget for a moment that I need to leave. It comes crashing back. Syv's alone and I can't let him be alone. The thought hurts."

Kaduil squeezed her hand and she looked down at him with the lump coming back to her throat.

"I don't want to leave, but I have to."

Batran frowned and jabbed his finger downward, Syreilla sank to her knees and sat looking at him dubiously. "My wedding gift to you." He gave Kaduil a mischievous smile. "They said I couldn't train an elf, but she's only half."

Her face was flushing as she glared at him incredulously. Kaduil kissed her head and pulled her up into a kneeling embrace, "You're going to get such a kicking when she has her shoes back."

Syreilla started to laugh and buried her face in Kaduil's beard. "You're going to have to let me help rebraid this."

"When we get home," he murmured.

She couldn't help but grin as he squeezed her. "When we get home." Saying the words somehow made her feel giddy.

The walk up to the well-appointed dignitaries' waiting area was a long one and she listened to Batran and Kaduil discuss moving all of her things into his house. Their house. It gave her a strange feeling. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Almost like being in a dream that was too real. Remembering the dream that woke her she shuddered and turned to look behind her, half certain there would be a black mist hanging there.

Kaduil took her hand with a worried look, and she shook her head before he could ask, "I-I had a strange feeling. I was expecting there to be a black mist behind me..." She looked again. When they started walking again their pace had quickened and they were much quieter.

The doors were opened for them as they approached and Mordaeg looked grim. The elf who sat closest next to him however smiled almost warmly as Syreilla entered the room.

"You must be Syreilla. What surname did your mother give you?" He inquired brightly.

Batran answered for her promptly, undoubtedly knowing she would say something impolite, "Syreilla of Clan Hammersworn is what she goes by."

The disapproval was clear on his face. "I am aware of her affiliation here. I require the surname her mother gave her."

"I would rather eat my tongue than be called by that name." Syreilla made certain every word was clearly enunciated.

The elf frowned and inclined his head. "Very well, do you know the name of your father?"

"The worthless-" Batran stepped on her foot and gave her a meaningful look. Syr gritted her teeth and crossed her arms. The elf was now giving her an icy look. "My mother said that the elf who knocked her up was named Tirnel Acharnion."

"You have doubts?" He arched an eyebrow.

"I don't give a damn who he was. I want nothing to do with him." She glared daggers at the elf until she felt Kaduil's hand on the small of her back. Taking a breath she looked down at him and he rubbed a light circle on her back.

"From the items you brought here, I believe your mother spoke the truth. You are of my lineage, and my son, Tirnel, has been fond of human women from time to time."

Syr raised her gaze and snorted, "Fondness implies affection. He likes to fuck humans from time to time. Don't be so godsdamned precious about it."

The elf looked surprised. "You don't believe there was affection between your parents?"

"On my mother's part? Maybe. Her heart was so shattered she had nothing but loathing for me. I never met the elf."

She watched the elf's head bow. "That would explain why you have so much anger."

"You have no idea." Syreilla felt like everything inside her was turning to ice, the only warm spot was Kaduil's hand on her back.

"Does Syvilas?" The elf looked up with a penetrating gaze.

"He knows some of it." She took a deep breath, "Some of it he couldn't bear to hear."

Her eyes went to Kaduil and he stepped closer pulling her hip against his side. Reaching her hand to stroke his black beard, Syr felt the sudden urge to run away, to go back home and just hide in their bed.

"Tell me about Syvilas. What surname did he give?"

"Acharnion. He's my brother." The muscles along the elf's jaw twitched as she spoke. "He's sweet-natured, hates to be alone. He's fond of elves, I don't know why. But they were almost pleasant to him when we met some on the road. Syv is... charming. I don't-I don't trust people easily, but I trust him completely."

"You trust him as much as the dwarf?" He gestured toward Kaduil with a doubtful expression.

"I've known Kaduil for years, and if Batran hadn't encouraged me at him so firmly it would have taken even longer for me to trust him like I do." Syr paused and gave the elf a hard look. "I trust Syv, as much as I trust Batran and Kaduil."

"Why do the dwarves think you're under some kind of spell?"

Syr sighed and shook her head. She reached up to rub the back of her neck and Batran started to explain, "She-"

"I asked her, Master dwarf."

"You're rude and I don't fucking like you." Syreilla snapped. "I need to go." She tried to pull away but Kaduil kept his arm around her.

"Try, Syreilla. Stay." Looking down at him she shook her head, but before she could open her mouth to speak he prodded her, "What was it you said about a black mist?"

The elf stood abruptly and came closer. "Tell me." He reached out his hand toward her face and she slapped it away.

"Don't you touch me." Her fingers curled into fists and it took a moment to realize that both Batran and Kaduil were now holding her arms. Her heart was pounding.

"Lord Olthon, she's not acting like herself. Tell your guard to put their weapons away."

The elf made a gesture but she didn't look to see what happened. Instead, she listened to Kaduil's quiet murmuring to calm and sank to her knees so that she could bury her face in his beard as she'd done at home. He stroked her hair and kept her pulled close.

She listened as Batran began to talk about the changes in her behavior, her eagerness to leave the mine, her sudden obedience when she would have fought, and her disobedience when she would have obeyed. He didn't know why she'd turned around looking for a black mist.

"It was a dream. A nightmare." She whispered to Kaduil.

Syreilla stiffened as Olthon knelt too close to her. "I need to hear it."

Shuddering and speaking quietly into Kaduil's beard she described the nightmare, the maze, the wall, the mist. She stopped before the part about going into the room.

"Was there more?" The elf sounded almost soothing.

"Yes." She kept her eyes closed and felt Kaduil squeeze her.

"Will you tell me?" A hand lightly touched her head.

"No." She felt Kaduil move his hand and the lighter hand lifted, letting him stroke her hair again.

"Tell me, Syr." He kissed her head and she sighed.

"I pushed in the wall. Like I did in the tomb." Syr paused for a moment. "That's where I was, I knew it as soon as I fell into the room. But there were people there and what I thought were drums was Vezar beating on the glass of the coffin. He was-"

"Vezar?" Olthon asked sharply.

"The dark-haired man who brought me the cart and box for Kaddal. Vezar Edra. He was a little odd, but nice enough." Syreilla opened her eyes and tried to push away from Kaduil. "I want to go home, but I have to leave. I need to go find Syv."

"What happened next in the dream?"

Fixing the elf with a glare she spat, "I don't like you, and I'm not going to speak to you."

She saw the expectant look he gave Kaduil and wanted to claw his eyes out.

"Mordaeg, I'm going to take her home. I think the elf is making it worse."

"I have to know more." Olthon frowned.

"Kaduil will get your answers, Lord Olthon. Tell Batran your questions."

Syreilla felt a rush of gratitude as Mordaeg gave a nod.

"You can't just let her wander off into the mine with a dwarf!" One of the other elves protested.

"No. Master Aledelver, she must stay. This is difficult but it must be done, and quickly."

The sudden sick feeling that she wouldn't be allowed to go home again struck her. She wrapped her arms around Kaduil and held him as tightly as she could.

"Let me take my wife home, Mordaeg. Please."

"You're not going to get anything out of her like this, Lord Olthon. Take her home, Kaduil, she stays inside." Mordaeg's concern was clear.

Her legs were shaking as Kaduil helped her up and led her back home. Once there, Syr retreated to the bedroom immediately and stripped out of the dress and slippers. Kaduil brought food and some mushroom wine up to her and looked as though he wanted to tease her before he saw the expression on her face.

"I need you to take the clothes away, hide them, burn them. Whatever you have to do, Kaduil."

He gave a grim smile and nodded, handing her the food he'd brought and taking the clothes, the parcel that still sat on the bed as well, and disappearing for a short while.

Syreilla took the time to make the bed and lay out a picnic on the covers. When he returned she was waiting, half dozing next to the food.

"You're tired?" he asked worriedly as he stripped out of his clothes.

"Exhausted. I feel like I've been-been..." She shuddered.

"Running through a maze?" Kaduil looked at her speculatively.

She nodded.

He shook his head at the picnic and climbed onto the bed to eat, prodding her to do the same until she felt more awake. When they were finished and she'd had what she thought must be at least half of the bottle of wine he pulled her close and tried to get her talking about the dream again.

With a shiver Syr told him the rest, trying to get Vezar out and being sealed in the stone sarcophagus. Kaduil held her and rubbed her back and arm. "Being alone was the reason you were afraid? Not dying or being buried alive?"

"The feeling was so strong, Kaduil. So awful. I woke up and needed to go find Syv. I looked for you, and I washed off and grabbed a bite to eat. I was hunting for clothes when you came back. When I saw you the feeling eased. Then it came back, harder."

Kissing his side she pressed her face to him and breathed deeply. He smelled like dwarf even after having bathed, like the forges, sweat, and leather. The smell of soap was there too. She almost asked what she smelled like to him, but he pulled her head up and kissed her before she could.

"Do I need a bath? I knew you liked to wash, but I didn't think you'd bathe morning and night." He was teasing her trying to lighten the mood and she grinned at him.

"I like the way you smell. I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if I didn't. It would be like you marrying me and then expecting me to grow a beard."

"You might look nice with a beard." He laughed and kissed her jaw to her ear.

"I'll borrow yours if I feel the need to have one." Syreilla teased back making a scissoring motion with her fingers. He rolled her over and gave her a sharp, playful slap on the rump. She laughed and kissed him sweetly. "I would never cut your beard, I'm too fond of it, and too fond of you."

"Kaduil?" Batran called from below.

"Have you ever made a door lock, husband mine?" Syr asked sourly.

Kaduil started to laugh. "Stay put."

He rose and pulled on his clothes, still straightening them as he left the room. She curled on the bed into the warm spot he'd left. Syreilla couldn't help but feel guilty for being so happy at home when she knew Syv was miserable and alone. Thinking about it would have to wait, sleep was pulling her down like a heavy chain.

*Fourteen*

Syvilas had not wished to ask the dwarves the way to Brosa and Syreilla had said that Lew was attached to the mine, it wouldn't be wise to ask there either. It would be best to go to Pale to inquire. Preferably with a new face.

Night was falling quickly as he rode out through Lew. The men following him must have mistaken him for an easy mark. He smiled to himself. Finding a place to stop for the night would arouse less suspicion than continuing on his way. Turning in his saddle he called back to them, "Perhaps you would like to join me?"

There was no answer.

"My sister said there was a secluded place to camp here somewhere, perhaps you could show it to me?" She hadn't but the pretense would be useful.

A large man stepped from the gloaming, looking dubious as he uncovered a lantern. "Syreilla is your sister?"

"She is. Unfortunately, they would not allow me into the mine even with her assurances of my good character." He was careful to give them a small smile remembering what Syreilla had said about his smile being too wide. "Elvish charm doesn't seem to work on dwarves."

"Ha! I bet it doesn't." The man glanced at one of his companions who thought himself hidden in the trees. "I know where she was sending you. I'll help you get set up for the night."

He inclined his head and dismounted, walking with the man into the trees. There was, in fact, a small campsite hidden away well back from the road. Syvilas tied his horse, removing the saddle, and smiled appreciatively as the man filled a battered bucket from the nearby stream for the animal. A small fire was laid and all he had to do was wait for the others to come out of hiding. He settled in, lounging on the saddle.

"How do you know my sweet Syreilla?" Syvilas asked curiously.

The man looked at him oddly and then made a gesture bringing one man out of the trees nearby into the firelight. "You're not her brother. I was worried about robbing you for a few there." He grinned wolfishly at Syvilas.

Syv returned the grin. "Why do you and the dwarves think otherwise?"

"No one calls Syreilla sweet." A voice came from behind him as a loop dropped around his neck.

Laughing as the man tried to strangle him, Syvilas reached up and dug his fingers into the man's hands, consuming him as the other two watched horrified. As he lunged for the larger man the other broke out of his horrified stupor and ran.

Vezar changed his face and form, growing larger and more imposing as his clothes tightened and tore, darkening his hair and taking the man's beard as well. Syvilas had served his purpose, but he would miss the elvish senses, they heightened and refined his own, a perfect complement. Listening for the crash of branches as the man frantically made his way back toward the road, Vezar followed eagerly. After catching and consuming him within sight of the empty road, Vezar dragged his limp form back to the fire and tossed it with the other two, going through their pockets for coins and anything of interest.

He settled in well-fed and comfortable under the trees to sleep by the fire.

The black mist was driving him forward. He knew what was happening this time and he raged forward ahead of it through the maze. It looked different and still the same.

Vezar burst into the center of it ready to attack. This time he was not tired, this time he was ready. This time the coffin rushed to embrace him and he screamed out his fury beating on the glass, the sound like a drum, maddeningly loud in his ears.

"You will not keep me here!" He pounded harder trying to break the glass. Syreilla would come. The thought was a shield against despair, but he could feel himself withering. She stepped into the room. Perfect Syreilla, staring at him in horror.

He watched as she pushed the gathered traitors aside and looked to the locks before trying to wrest tools from one of the elves. They grabbed her forcing her on top of his coffin as Vezar screamed out for her to run, beating frantically trying to get to her.

The stone rose around them and he pressed his hands against the glass. Wailing in agony as she was kept so close but so far from him. He would have to watch her die. Alone.

The strangled wail burst from him as he woke. "Syreilla!"

It took a moment for him to realize where he was and to remember where he needed to go. Pale and then Brosa. Syreilla would join him. He needed her to. Closing his eyes he pulled on the threads urgently.

Wherever he stopped next he would reach for her. Vezar breathed and calmed himself. He needed to see her and the bond was still intact, it would draw her. "Sweet Syreilla. You will come back to me."

He saddled his horse and made his way to the road, riding urgently. It didn't take as long, without the cart and slow plodding horse, to reach the fork. The small walled city of Pale was only an hour's ride past the fork at his pace. It seemed to be a hub of activity.

Finding a bustling stable, he gave over his exhausted horse and paid some of the coin he had taken from the thieves before inquiring, "Where would I find inexpensive lodging?"

The stableman looked at him carefully, "The Good Queen has decent food and clean beds. It's not the prettiest but it'll do if you need cheap."

"Which way?" Vezar smiled wryly as he moved in the direction the man pointed in. This face looked rough and his clothes were poor. Syreilla would help him find better. He touched the threads with a thought. She was agitated. They were keeping her from leaving. Allowing himself a sharper smile, he remembered her boasting, they could not keep her for long.

The sign for The Good Queen bore a busty woman in a crown. It was not a place where men with other options would linger long, he surmised, as he looked around inside. The woman who came to meet him with a frown and a judgemental look was dressed like a harlot.

"What do you need?" Her tone was sharp.

"A room only." He watched as her eyes narrowed. "I will be here only as long as it takes my horse to rest and to find someone who wishes to travel in my direction."

"What direction would that be?" She looked thoughtful.

"Toward Brosa."

She nodded. "You've come at the right time. There's a caravan looking for men to guard it leaving soon. I can send you that way, for a consideration."

He watched her flinch as he gave a broad grin. "Of course, Madam. What consideration would you ask?"

Shuddering, she muttered, "You stay in your room unless you're leaving. I don't want you down here with the girls. Three coppers tonight and my boy will take you to the caravaners tomorrow."

Vezar drew the money from the slim purse and held it out in his hand. The woman hesitated before she took it and showed him up to a small windowless room. At least the bed was clean as promised, he took off his clothes and lay naked on it. Fresh clothes and a bath would be ideal.

A knock at the door came as if his thoughts had been read. A girl bustled in with a basin of water. Her amusement at his undress was short-lived as the older woman barked at her to come back down immediately.

"Would it be possible for my clothes to be washed?" He inquired as she stepped out.

"I can do that." She gave him a sly smile. "Two coppers."

Making certain his coin was all accounted for and laid next to the basin he gave her his clothes. "When they are returned clean. I will be delighted to pay."