Undying Ch. 16-21

"Think of yourself as a tapestry, you are constantly being woven." Olthon's tone was gentle and Syreilla turned her head to look at him. "The threads can be pulled out of their right place and woven differently. Even woven into another's tapestry, as with family and lovers when you share your life."

"And you think he's woven himself into my tapestry." She rubbed the knuckle of her thumb between her eyes, feeling tired.

"I know that he has. I believe he pulled your threads in such a way as to change your behavior. To make you more obedient, perhaps more affectionate."

Trying to lay back on the horse with the saddle was uncomfortable. She sat up and turned backward in the saddle, laying forward with her feet up, crossed over the horse's neck. Still uncomfortable but bearable.

"Are you ill?" The one he'd called Pelinel asked, staring at her as if she were mad.

"Tired. I was up all night making sure my husband would miss me." Syr smiled wryly. Thinking of Kaduil was more warming than the sun.

"Vezar may try to pull you into a dream again." Olthon brought his horse closer and touched the back of her head. This close she could feel the hum of something the elf was carrying.

"Let him. I'll ask about the threads he moved."

The elf laughed as she shut her eyes. "Anger. The dwarf said you were more yourself."

"The dwarf has a name," Syr muttered angrily.

"Forgive me. You don't like the way I speak of him. You'd fight anyone for Kaduil, including Vezar." There was a strange feeling at the base of her skull under his hand.

She cracked her eyes open to see the amused look on the elf's face. "You better get your hand off of me, elf."

He smiled as he drew his hand back. "You could feel that. Vezar has been pulling your threads often enough for you to notice."

"Do it again and your tapestry is going to be cut short." She narrowed her eyes.

"I can see why he found you so charming. He likes challenges." Olthon's smile was almost friendly. He turned and began speaking in one of the elvish tongues to the others, leaving Syreilla to drowse.

When she was roused for lunch the food was already prepared. All she had to do was climb down to eat. Yawning and stretching, she stiffly dismounted. She looked around taking in where they were, outside of Lew but not to the fork. They hadn't gotten as far as they should have, even avoiding Lew wouldn't have made the ride take so long. She cursed herself silently for falling asleep and not paying attention.

As she was looking around, an elf tried to hand her some of the food he was giving the others. Syr eyed it with more than a little distrust.

"What is that?"

"Elvish bread and sweet cheese." The elf smiled. "Perhaps you'd feel better about taking food from someone you know? My name is Maethion."

Did he really think she'd be that easy? She gave him an annoyed look. "Cheese shouldn't be sweet. Did Batran send any sausage for me? Dwarf bread?"

"You eat sausage?" Pelinel looked at her with disgust.

"She was not raised as an elf. For that, I blame my son." Olthon gave him a stern look. "Fetch the things Batran sent for her. Perhaps when she trusts us more she will try our food."

Pelinel brought the bag and Syreilla grinned as she opened it. Dried sausage, dwarf bread, and a bottle of mead. "Batran always looks out for me."

The fourth elf muttered in elvish.

Syreilla ignored him and climbed back onto her horse, keeping hold of her supplies, to have a few bites of sausage and tear into the dwarf bread, washing it down with a good swallow of her mead. She looked down to see the elves looking at her with dismay. "Vezar had things to say about the way I eat."

"He preferred refinement," Olthon said dryly.

She grinned, "Uncivilized was the word he used to describe me."

"Dwarvish would be more apt." The fourth muttered unhappily.

"Now you're trying to flatter me." Syr turned sideways in the saddle looking at him, his upper lip was curled in disgust.

"You think it's flattery?"

"I do." She watched him shake his head. "Dwarves are kind, warm, generous of heart. They've been better to me than-"

He put his head in his hands. "I didn't think your mother would turn you over to dwarves to spite me."

Face to face with the elf who'd abandoned her she found herself feeling oddly detached. "My mother sent me to Withia to serve as a maid when I was ten. And I'll tell you what I told Vezar, it was the worst year of my life. Starving alone in the streets was better. Elves are vicious. Humans can be decent. Dwarves have been good to me."

The elf looked like he was going to be sick. "You blame me?"

"You're an elf. You can't be expected to care for anyone but yourself or to cater to any needs but your own twisted desires. If you could keep your dick in your pants or stick to fucking your own kin until you die out the world would be a better place."

"That's enough, Syreilla," Olthon spoke quietly. "When you insult us, you insult yourself."

"I'm a thief, born to die on the block." She gave him her coldest smile. "There are very few insults that haven't been sent my way and many of them were justified. If not for Batran, I was well on my way to becoming a monster."

"Batran should be thanked." Olthon looked at Tirnel sharply. "Come down and sit with us, Syreilla."

Syr adjusted herself on the horse, catching a whiff of a terrible smell. Something dead. The feeling that she knew what happened washed over her. "Was anyone missing in Lew?"

"You think Vezar is responsible for that smell of death in the air?" Maethion looked at her carefully.

"If they didn't realize he was one of mine, yes. Mine get a free pass or I come knocking. If they saw him as just a helpless half-elf they might have tried to rob him."

"They?" Pelinel inquired.

"There's a few thieves that run up here. They had better days before I came."

"Why would they fear you?" Tirnel frowned.

"If you go by Pale, ask about Syreilla Hammersworn. If you come across Agust No-Legs you'll get a story and a half."

"Why is he called No-Legs?" Pelinel looked at her dubiously.

"His master was a sadistic mage. A man by the name of Zylius. He kept me on retainer for a long while before I met Batran."

"I know of Zylius." Olthon leaned forward in fascination.

"He was a piece of work, but I kind of liked him. He taught me all kinds of things, nasty tricks mostly. Some of the wards in that tomb were things he'd have been proud of, by the way." Syr noticed Olthon's pleased smile. "Zylius pushed Agust a little too far and got himself killed. And now Agust walks around believing he has no legs. Some spell the mage dropped on him, I think. The man had a wicked mind."

Tirnel scoffed. "That doesn't explain why they would fear you."

She tilted her head and stared. "If I ever wondered where I get my occasional stupidities from, now I know. Are you asking for a demonstration?" She clapped her hands together and rubbed vigorously, mouthing the words to the siphoning spell. The feeling of magic was like prickles on her skin and she'd felt it when Olthon had gotten close on his horse, whatever he had was strong enough to make a spark. Olthon began to protest but it was too late. Her hands crackled with something like blue lightning and she released it between the four. A shower of dirt and elvish curses rained down as the horses bolted.

Waving merrily, Syreilla directed her fleeing horse toward the fork. Syv would have gone to Pale to ask where Brosa was. She was almost certain. It would be quicker to go to Brosa directly, but then she'd be taking the elves. Losing them would be necessary. Syvilas would wait if he needed to, it was time to find out just how quick and cunning elves could be.

*Eighteen*

Kaduil watched his Syreilla riding off with the elves with a sick feeling in his stomach. She had everyone laughing with her little tricks to antagonize the elves but he'd seen her face when she'd woken him. Golden-haired Syr wore her defiant charm like a mask. As far as he could tell the mine was the only place she let it slip.

Batran stood next to him while the others went back about their business. "That little show with the manacles was for you. She doesn't want you to worry."

"I should be going with her, Batran. Syr-"

"Syr can take care of herself. I sent a few things with her so she doesn't starve. She'd probably eat the horse before she tried their elvish food." He clapped Kaduil on the back. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, he wouldn't be staying up with Syr again for a long while and the thought made his throat close up. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and swallowed against the painful tightness. "No."

"Go get some rest, no one will fault you for-"

"No. I need to work." It wouldn't be enough to clear his mind but he couldn't sit in their bedroom and think about his golden wife off with elves. Off hunting a monster that wanted to steal her.

The heat of the forge and the ring of the hammers called to him. He went back to steel, not the gold Batran had been encouraging him to work with. Steel felt right. Solid and strong. They needed a few swords to sell along with the usual mundane work and that felt right too. Kaduil set himself to the task, pouring his energy and focus into the metal. By the end of the day, he had a rough forged weapon that needed cleaning up. Before he could begin, Batran sent him home.

Home was where she was supposed to be. Kaduil went below to her bath and washed before he trudged up the stairs toward their bed. Batran was waiting in the main room.

"She asked me if I'd ever made door locks." Kaduil frowned at him holding his wadded clothing in front of himself.

Barking a laugh, Batran pointed at a cloth-covered tray on the table. "I brought something for you, you haven't eaten all day. Syr will give us both a kicking if she comes home to you having starved yourself sick."

He nodded. "She should have stayed, Batran. They could find Vezar some other way. She wanted to stay."

"I know. But he needs to be found quickly and Olthon says if she can be convinced to turn on him the bonds might be broken even if they can't kill him." Batran looked apologetic. "I want her free of that thing, Kaduil. You didn't see the way he looked at her or the way she seemed to be in a haze around him."

"I saw the way she needed to get to him, she couldn't let him be alone. But the more she was with me the weaker it got. Syr was herself this morning. She should have stayed."

"Go get your clothes on, I'll sit with you while you eat." Batran looked at him the same concerned way he'd looked at Syr.

Walking heavily up the stairs, Kaduil pulled on clean clothes. The memory of his golden-haired wife in his shirt and nothing else was as strong as the memory of her bent over the bed, her long legs spread wide, begging him not to stop. He wouldn't be able to sleep in the bed tonight.

Heading back down to eat, he was surprised by the sight of Batran holding one of her little glass figurines. The dwarf looked up and smiled grimly, "She's so fond of these little things. She liked seeing them here?"

"She said you were probably right that she'd say yes eventually. Her worry was that she'd be a horrible wife. She's afraid she can't stay in the mine as much as I would want."

"I thought as much. Anyone who saw her watching you knew she adored you." Batran set the piece down carefully. "Eat. I'm not staying here all night to mother you."

Kaduil snorted. "Good." Once he started eating he was surprised to find he was hungry. He polished off the roasted goat and mushrooms, the heaps of soft, roasted vegetables well-spiced, and the stone bread. Syr just called it dwarf bread, that she had a taste for it was a source of amusement in the mine.

After the meal, and after Batran had left, Kaduil changed his mind about sleeping in the bed. Syreilla would be back, and she would be coming and going. He needed to get used to sleeping there alone again on some nights. Pulling her pillow close, he sighed and fell into a restless sleep.

Morning found him out of sorts and still tired. Breakfast was not going to be brought to him like an invalid, not unless Syreilla was fetching it. He dressed and went to find his own food. Steaming kave helped to wake him and put him back into a better mood.

Kaduil went back to work and remembered to stop for the midday meal, which earned him some ribbing. He was trading barbs with another smith when word of someone using Syreilla's name came down to him. A man from Riken's Run.

There was no keeping something like that quiet after the way she'd left. Kaduil wanted to speak to the man himself, if she sent him he might have a message. He was stopped at the door to the visitor's waiting rooms.

"Mordaeg says you have to wait, I'm sorry Kaduil." Thadinn shook his head.

"Why? I want to ask if he has a message from Syr." At the look on Thadinn's face, Kaduil had a sinking feeling that the man had some sort of news that they wanted to keep from him. "Has something happened to Syr?"

"You have to wait." The dwarf didn't want to meet his eyes and Kaduil began to curse loudly. The door opened, cutting him off.

"Get in here, he says he has something to tell you, Kaduil." Batran looked incensed.

He barged ahead, the nervous-looking human stood as he entered. "You have a message from my wife? Syreilla?"

"She'll come back as soon as she can. The girl wanted me to smuggle her back to the mine, said she'd take the hiding Batran'd give her without a second thought."

If she'd asked to be smuggled back something had gone wrong. The elves had done something. "What happened? Is my wife safe?"

"She didn't want me to carry that message to you, she wanted you to stay safe in the mine. The elves caught up to her again I'd imagine, I don't know if she's safe."

His heart was pounding and he looked at Batran, he'd shake the answer out of him if he had to. He realized the fury on Batran's face hadn't faded. "What did they do?"

"One of them struck her and she says Olthon is pulling at her threads like Vezar. She needed me to know the elves aren't trustworthy. Syr attacked them with magic to get away but... they're elves. I doubt she can fend off four at once."

"I'm going to get my wife." Kaduil could feel the hard knot forming in his belly.

"She didn't want that, she said you'll bring your axe to plant in someone's head and get killed. The girl cares for you, the way she touched that knife..." The man was apologetic.

"I'm going to bring my wife home. Those beardless knife-eared tree-fuckers can find some other way to catch their quarry." He stormed out; he needed supplies, his axe, some armor, it didn't matter that he didn't know where she was exactly. Kaduil knew he could find her, he could feel it. She was going to come home.

By the time he'd gathered his things, Kaduil found that Batran had arranged a short wagon and had it loaded with a box of travel rations and two dwarves of clan Hammersworn with more experience in fighting to come with him. "She ran back up toward the road like she was trying to make her way back here," Batran told him quietly as he was getting on the wagon and taking the reins. "They'll probably be taking her down that road. When you catch up to her, tell her... tell her she's not going to get a hiding. Bring her straight back."

"I will."

The elves would be traveling faster if Syreilla didn't keep slowing them by trying to escape. But a group of elves and a troublemaker like his wife would be noticed. Kaduil set out at a brisk pace.

"We'll find her quick enough. Syreilla's known for her temper and her dirty tricks around Lew and Pale. There'll be talk of her wherever she goes." Weran was trying to be reassuring.

"He married her, he knows that. We want to try and get where they'll be taking her so we're not wandering lost finding places they've already been. Find Vezar and they'll bring her." Bhirren insistently pointed out. "If she was sending someone to wait for her away from the mine, where would she send them? Pale?"

"Maybe. But she doesn't like to go there by herself since they tried to put her on the block." Kaduil wanted to keep going down the road to find her. Toward Brosa would get him that direction. "Maybe Brosa."

"We'll go to Pale first, to be sure. We know what horse he was riding at least."

"He can change his face. The elves think they can't find him without Syr. We should go after her." Kaduil could feel something almost like a rope pulling him, he needed to go toward Brosa.

"The elves are going to be faster, Kaduil. We need to get ahead of them. Syr's not going to take them straight to Vezar. She's going to lead them around by the nose. We can look for the horse in Pale and find out where the rider went." Bhirren was making sense, and as much as he wanted to go toward Brosa, he turned toward Pale when they finally came to the fork.

In Pale, asking after the horse and rider led them to The Good Queen and Miss Jenet. She was more than happy to send the dwarves to Brosa after the man who'd stolen away one of her better girls. They put their cart on the merchant's track from Pale to Brosa and followed them. Syr would head that way eventually.

Kaduil tried not to think about what might happen if she tried to get away from the elves again and he wasn't there, following on the right road, to scoop her up and take her home.

*Nineteen*

Syreilla put her heels to the horse as if she were going back toward the tomb. There were tracks that led off to little towns and tracks that led into the woods to places she could try to lose them. She knew better than to think she could lose them in the trees, but in the lower mountains, there had been tunnels, the remnants of some war long forgotten. Some were still passable for stretches. A few wards thrown up around one of the more dangerous ones would get them going that way and she could slip into one she knew.

Getting there ahead of them would be the hard part. They wouldn't have given her the fastest horse, but the time they took to gather their horses again would give her some help. A tingling at the base of her skull made her eyes feel like they wanted to cross.

"Godsdamned elf," she muttered.

Olthon must have grabbed one of those threads he was talking about, something she couldn't slip away from. Or could she? Vezar would probably know, if she could ask him. Until then... It only made sense that threads would get thinner the more distance you put between the ends. Syreilla focused on keeping up the horse's speed and the road ahead and tried to wish the thread thinner.

The feeling at the base of her skull eased as the road curved and she felt more concealed. She kept the horse moving at the fastest pace she could manage until she came to a side track that she knew would lead to a small village. Dismounting quickly, she rubbed the horse's face and muttered an apology. A lightly traced mark on the horse's rump would send it running as if it were being flogged. A nasty trick but a useful one. The animal thundered off and Syr slipped down the path and dropped to the ground, pulling up her hood as she heard the sound of pursuit.

Olthon paused at the head of the track, sending two elves ahead after the horse. He was speaking in elvish to the one that stayed with him, she couldn't help but smile, he sounded furious. The elf was definitely giving an order. Both vanished from her sight. Staying was not a good idea, and moving would be tricky. She moved slowly, coming onto her hands and toes, lifting her hooded head.

The woods had gone silent. Playing hide and seek in the woods with elves. Syr almost started to laugh. There was probably one standing over her already, the cunning sneaks. She turned her head to see the edge of the blade next to her face and breathed a laugh.