Undying Ch. 16-21

A hand grabbed her shoulder roughly and pulled her to her feet. "You're enjoying yourself?" Tirnel looked like he wanted to throttle her.

"Immensely." She grinned at him and the elf struck her across the face. Syr began to laugh mirthlessly as she licked the blood from her lip. "And now we have some real fun."

Tirnel opened his mouth to speak as she mouthed the siphoning spell again, the object was close and still had power in it. She hoped it had enough. Releasing the power in a blinding flash, she bolted. Humans took more than an hour to recover from that trick, elves would take less.

Turning, she cast one of the nicer dirty tricks she'd learned in the middle of the path. Almost invisible unless you were looking for them, these wards reached out in all directions and snared their victims, draining their energy to hold them in place.

Bolting down the path she heard Olthon shout, "Syreilla Acharnion!"

"That's not my name," she muttered as she kept running.

Out of breath and with shaking legs by the time she reached the village, her arrival drew interest. Not many here had seen a half-elf much less one who had run herself almost to her limit. Syreilla gratefully accepted water and tried to be on her way.

"What's your hurry? You steal something?" One of the men looked at her speculatively.

"No, being hunted by elves." She shook her head and took a risk. "I'm Syreilla Hammersworn, I married a half-dwarf, Kaduil Hardjaw in Delver's Deep. Elvish kin wanted nothing to do with me until then. Now they've dragged me away from the mine." Syr looked at the suspicious man. "I am a thief and a damned good one. Lucky I am, or they'd have me in chains on the way to Orileria."

"Prove it." The man crossed his arms and stared her down.

Bending she pulled her boot knife, "My husband made this for me." A murmur went through the small crowd as the man took it and looked it over. Syreilla expected him to accuse her of stealing it.

"Your husband does fine work. A half-elf and a half-dwarf, he's a lucky one." He handed the knife back.

"No, he's got a wife that can't stay home in the mine, as much as she wants to. I'm the lucky one to have a home and a husband to go back to." She ran her fingers over the runes and felt a twinge of guilt before putting it back in her boot sheath.

He grunted and gave a nod. "Get her inside and hide her. A man ought not have his wife stolen away by elves."

Syreilla was pushed into a nearby house and ushered into the cellar. This wasn't ideal. If they got ahead of her they could lie in wait. If they split up to watch around the village they'd catch her even if she doubled back.

She took a deep breath and crouched, steepling her fingers to think. It was possible she'd get smuggled back to the mine. That would be both good and bad. She'd get a hiding for it but she might be able to stay a few more days. More likely the elves would charm these people into handing her over. Pulling out her circlet she put it on and looked around for any other way out. What looked like it may have been a small boarded window would probably be her only chance. She needed to wait to be sure she didn't run directly into the elves' waiting arms.

Opening her satchel she took the time to eat a little more sausage and bread, sipping the mead before putting it away again. Waiting was agonizing. It felt like hours and hours had passed by the time the man came down into the cellar, frowning.

"The elves won't leave. One has a chunk of metal he says tells him you're here and not off in the woods. He can't tell what house you're in though."

Rubbing her face, Syr asked, "Are you going to turn me over?"

"No. They brought the horse with the shackles on it. No one is going to send a man's wife off in chains, no matter what kind of tale the elves are spinning."

"What tale?"

"'He says you woke an undying evil and they need you to hunt him down." The man's eyes were sharp as he watched her.

"It's sort of true. He's talking about my brother. But if he's not making trouble, I don't see why they need to hunt him down and kill him. He's got a good heart." She rubbed her thumb knuckle between her eyes.

"And what you said about being dragged off to Orileria?"

Syreilla looked up into his accusing face. "Not far off the mark either. They made it clear they find my adopted family and my husband repulsive and inappropriate. If I don't go back with them after they kill my brother they'll kill me and send my corpse back to Orileria, I'm certain." She shrugged at him apologetically. "Too little time and too much urgency makes cutting the truth into deceptive little bits too tempting."

He grunted. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Give me a chance to run." Syr smiled at him grimly. "If I know how close they're watching the place I can at least try."

"You won't get far. Elves in the woods..."

She knew what he meant. It wasn't the ideal place to try to escape them.

Nodding, she took a breath. "Maybe. But at least you won't have to worry about them thinking you were hiding me deliberately." Touching her lip where she'd been struck, she asked, "Will you carry a message for me? Up to Delver's Deep? Tell Batran that I didn't use magic to attack them until Tirnel hit me. Don't talk to Kaduil. He'll come out looking to put an axe in someone's head and get himself killed. Batran will also want to know that Olthon is trying to fuck around with my threads." At the man's baffled expression she shook her head, "It was the excuse they used to get him to make me go with them. Olthon said my brother was messing with my threads. The elf is trying to do the same. Batran Hammersworn needs to know these elves are not trustworthy."

"No message for Kaduil?" He looked at her dubiously.

Her eyes burned and the lump returned to her throat. It took her a moment to clear it enough to speak. "Nothing that wouldn't bring him out with his axe. I promised him I would come home and I will. As soon as I can." Syr looked at the man and gave him a half-smile. "I was hoping you'd smuggle me back and I'd get a few more days with him before they came to drag me back out of the mine. I'd take the hiding Batran would give me for it without a second thought."

He nodded and looked thoughtful, "Night is falling. The elves will want to bed down somewhere they can keep an eye on things. I'll find out where they are exactly and let you know. Do you need food?"

"Batran sent dwarf bread and sausage with me." She grinned and opened her bag. He looked envious. "You eat dwarf bread?"

"HA! What is that, mead?" He gave her a smile.

"Liquid gold." She brought the bottle out and offered him a drink. "Take the bottle. If you can carry my message to Batran you can tell him I said to give you another."

She watched as he fetched a bottle from a rickety rack. "Here. A trade." He pulled the wax-sealed rag out and offered it.

Syr took a smell and a sip. "That's good cider. If you have more of that you might take it up and see if Batran will buy it off of you. He has a soft spot for it." She took another drink before putting the rag back in place carefully and putting it in her bag. Mead was better but tart cider wasn't bad.

"I'll get your message to Hammersworn. Taking goods up is risky."

Snorting, Syr shook her head. "If anyone stops you between here and Delver's Deep, tell them you're carrying goods for Batran Hammersworn. Tell them Syreilla sent you. If they want to press you, tell them they can have the goods but Syreilla Hammersworn will be hunting them down and she'll be breathing dragon's fire."

"They'll back down?" He looked at her speculatively.

"They'll break and run." She gave him a cold smile. "You can use my name any time you take goods to and from Delver's Deep. I doubt my influence goes much further than this village though. Anyone from Lew or Pale knows better than to cross me where the dwarves are concerned."

"I'll find out where the elves are." He gave her a stiff nod and went back up. The nervousness on his face when she mentioned people knowing not to cross her made her suspicious.

The sound of low voices as she followed to press her ear against the wood made the hair on her neck rise. He was speaking to the elves. Time to try that window.

Out of a narrow pocket on her thigh, she pulled a shaped bar of metal as long as her hand and as thick as her thumb. One of her heavier tools, but she was glad she hadn't left it. She worked the bar under the edge as quietly as she could and pried the old rotting boards away. They crumbled more than pulled away, but at least they did it quietly. Syr pushed her bag out of the hole and hauled herself out. It was a tight fit and she had to twist and angle her hips to get them through.

Snatching up her bag, she decided to risk doubling back, bolting for the track she'd come down. The cry went up before she reached it. Hevtos' scaly fucking balls, she hated elves. She didn't slow. If she could make it to the road, maybe... The sound of hooves thundering behind her sent her off the track among the trees. A faint animal path leapt out at her. Putting her feet to it she ran as quickly and as quietly as she could.

The elves were faster and quieter. Maethion stepped out in front of her catching her as she slammed into him. Syr tried to catch him in the face with her forehead but he started to laugh and shoved her back. She couldn't help but grin realizing the four were surrounding her.

"You're almost clever enough to be difficult." Maethion was the only one besides herself who was grinning.

"I'll do better next time." She tilted her head and shrugged.

"Of that, I have no doubt." Olthon sounded both annoyed and amused. "Did I understand correctly, you would not have attacked if Tirnel had not struck you?"

"That's right. Batran will probably still give me a hiding for running in the first place, but that idiot son of yours gave me an opening too good to pass up."

Tirnel began to speak angrily in elvish, stepping forward.

Syreilla squared her shoulders and spread her fingers, "Hit me again, see what it gets you."

"Back, Tirnel. No one will strike you again, Syreilla. No further demonstrations are required." Olthon made a gesture and Maethion gingerly took hold of her arm. "We will discuss this at length as you guide us to Vezar."

She was taken back to the track and put onto her skittish horse. Patting it apologetically, she turned to check the place she'd made the mark, "Poor thing."

"You feel bad for hurting the horse?" Pelinel muttered.

"Of course. It didn't do anything to me. If I'd known you wouldn't keep chasing the horse I'd have stayed on it and tried to go farther."

"And that ward you caught me in?" Tirnel snapped at her. "Do you feel bad for that?"

"Not even a little bit." Syr gave him her most vicious grin.

"Zylius had an apt student." Olthon nearly sounded approving. "I have no doubt you learned to make dragon's fire from him as well. That's nearly a lost art."

"It's volatile stuff, useful though." If Olthon wanted to talk tricks, it might not be a bad time to see what the elf could do.

"How so?" Maethion sounded curious.

"It melts steel, no matter how good it is. It trips wards. It'll turn most anything to ash."

Olthon turned on his horse. "It trips wards?"

"Just like a living thing. If I didn't mix it myself I'd almost swear it was. The stuff will find a target when you pour it and reach for your fingers too. You don't even want to breathe on it. A ripple will wake it up."

"I don't think I want to know how you discovered that." Olthon sounded almost impressed.

"Toward the end of his life, I'm almost certain Zylius was trying to get me killed. Some of the things he taught me were as dangerous as the jobs he sent me on."

"You could have done much worse to Tirnel." Olthon gave her an appreciative look. "You refrained because he struck you with his hand and not a weapon."

"The next time he hits me he should do his best to kill me. He's had his warning."

The elf nodded at her words. "But you'd let Batran give you a hiding?"

"That's different. Batran looks out for me, he gave me a home and a family. I'll take the punishment he doles out, whatever it might be, because I trust him."

"You have a strong bond with your family. That would be why Vezar became your brother. There was no other bond he could make with you that would hold you." Olthon sounded thoughtful.

"What was it you were trying to do when I was running? I could feel it at the back of my head."

"I was trying to draw you with the single thread I managed to unravel. You are slippery, my dear. I consider myself lucky to have been able to hold it at all."

"Did you learn that from Vezar or did he learn it from you?"

"I learned it from him. We were friends once."

"Friends from the monastery or friends from when he ruled?"

Olthon turned to look at her again with a sharp smile. "No one survived his stay at the monastery. He learned what he needed and then devoured them all. Think of him like dragon's fire, volatile, he will turn on you."

"You want me to turn on him first. Like you did." They stepped out onto the road and Olthon fell back to ride next to her.

"Yes." He studied her face. "It wasn't an easy thing. For you, it will be harder because he has bound you as family."

"I can't let you lock him away again. Being alone is unbearable for him and for me." Syreilla shivered.

"Ah." The elf paused before asking, "Can you let me kill him?"

"I don't know. I don't think you can or you would have done it." She could feel nervousness creeping like a millipede up her spine. Syv would need to know if Olthon had a weapon that could kill him.

"Be calm, Syreilla. I need you only to consider it." The elf reached out to touch her arm and she flinched away. "I am not going to harm you."

"I don't trust you. You said those threads tighten and strengthen with touch, and I've already seen you try to use that against me."

"This is why Batran was so concerned when you said you trusted Vezar. You don't give your trust easily." Olthon frowned giving her a concerned look.

"You don't listen well, do you? He told you that." Syr shook her head. "Part of me knows I should be more concerned that I trust Vezar the way I do. But..."

"That a part of you knows is good. It means there is some hope."

Syreilla sighed, "Are we going to be riding all night or will we be stopping somewhere?"

Olthon looked at her sourly, "We will be meeting two others down this road, they have camp prepared and waiting. I don't see why you couldn't sleep on your horse again as you did earlier."

She rubbed her face and tried not to laugh. "I didn't think you'd be keen to have me well-rested before you'd gotten a chance to rest yourselves, but that's fine. I can-"

"I have changed my mind." Olthon narrowed his eyes at her but she could tell that he was fighting a smile. "Please, engage us in conversation."

Her grin was wide, "Why don't elves eat sausage? It's delicious." Angry elvish muttering behind her told her the topic was bound to be an amusing one.

"What did Vezar think of your... manner?" Olthon smiled, changing the subject.

"He's a fun one. I only had to tease him a few times before he started teasing back."

"And before he started teasing back?" Maethion asked from behind her.

"Vezar has this fantastic offended face." She gestured around her face. "You should see it sometime." Glancing back she saw Tirnel looking sour and sulky. "It's almost as good as that one." Syr pointed at him.

The laughter behind her quickly turned to coughing. She grinned as Olthon turned to look at her struggling to keep from smiling again.

"You cause no end of trouble and then try to charm your way out of it?"

"I have to get some use out of my ears," she gestured at the shape, "Gods know I don't use them to listen with."

Olthon laughed despite himself. "I can see myself in you when I was young. You excel at lulling those around you into complacency and then you try again." He looked almost proud. "You may find such tricks more difficult on elves."

"Then I get to learn new ones." She tilted her head and gave him a sickly sweet smile.

"It would be such a waste to leave you with dwarves, Syreilla." He sounded almost like Vezar and it made her miss him as much as it made her angry.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Vezar, you don't get to decide that." Her voice sounded oddly flat to her own ears.

"He wants to take you from the dwarves," Olthon sounded as if he were coming to some kind of realization.

"He said he would keep me from them. He said he needs me more. Needs me to himself, is what he said when he forbade me to marry Kaduil."

"You defied him." Olthon looked at her with a grim expression. "And I have dragged you from the mine where his influence will not be counteracted by your loved ones."

"I hoped the man at the village would smuggle me back there. But... no such luck."

"The pull to the mine is stronger right now. But it won't last. Vezar will pull you to him. All I ask is that you let us come with you." Something about his voice sounded oddly reasonable.

"I... I don't trust you, Olthon. The thought of leading you to my brother isn't-"

"Vezar Edra is not your brother!" Tirnel snapped from behind.

Tirnel's voice was like cold water splashing over her. Syreilla's anger came back. "I don't expect you to know what family is. Or what it can be. But don't dare think you can dictate to me what or who my family is after you abandoned me to my fate. I have no use for you, elf."

After a long silence Olthon spoke quietly, "Your mother, she was a passionate, intelligent woman?"

"She was angry. I didn't know her well enough to say more about her. Though, she seemed to think if I'd been a boy I'd have been more appealing to my father. She wanted to name me Thesolas."

"Thesolas was the name of a friend once. It might have gotten his attention." He glanced at her regretfully, "Had she known to get mine you would not have been abandoned."

"All my life I've been called a mongrel or worse by the elves I've met, you'll have to forgive me if I don't believe you'd have embraced me."

The silence stretched until they reached the camp of the other two elves. Syreilla was given a small tent of her own and she listened to the hushed elvish conversations as she sat inside it eating and drinking from her bag. If she took them to Brosa... it was too much risk. She could take them wandering until she learned enough to judge the danger. Vezar was safe enough for now.

Food was going to be a problem. If she took too long she would be forced to eat what they had. At the moment all she wanted was solid dwarvish food. Food from home. Home was where she wanted to be. The thought of sleeping without Kaduil made her heart ache.

Syreilla curled on the mat that had been laid on the ground and pulled her hood up over her head. There was no blanket and she wasn't about to go asking for anything from this lot. She tucked her hands under her armpits and brought her knees almost to her chest. The bitter lonely feeling wouldn't dissipate.

The tent flap opened and she drew her hood back to look at who was intruding. Olthon looked surprised as if he had expected her to be elsewhere. Syr narrowed her eyes at him.

"I recalled you didn't like being alone and thought I should inquire if you wished company. I hadn't expected to find you curled so pitifully, Syreilla. Allow me to join you."

"It's cold." She let up on her glare.

"You could have asked for a blanket."

"I have no intentions of asking you for anything." Pulling her hood back up she settled back into her ball.

"And now I see my sullen son in you." Olthon sounded annoyed.

Without looking up Syreilla muttered, "Out. I will kick you, old man."