Vian Meets Her Squad

Y'shir smiled a little broader now. "Perhaps not. Perhaps I meant someone more like a Matron of old. One who is worthy of her family, because she learns who they truly are, not what she would remake them be."

Vian snorted softly, shaking her head as she considered what he was saying: that she was competition for Miz'ri on some level. "This isn't going to turn out well."

The Grandmaster stepped forward to life his hand, testing her, and she held still looking at his ancient, soft eyes. Y'shir touched his fingers to her cheek, smoothing the pads tenderly along the side of her face. It was a first and, somehow she knew, a last. Her eyes teared up when he spoke.

"Do not give up, Sergeant. If you insist on following the Matron's path as she has presented it to you, then you are sure to fail. Step back from her, and find another way."

*****

The Grandmaster was right about the break from Vuthra'tern: everyone in the squad welcomed the quiet and solitude together. Border patrols were tours of duty shared between the top five Houses, lasting several weeks at least. A magical stone post at regular but well-hidden check points let the First House back home know all was quiet.

The majority of the time it was; their borders had been well defined with the lesser races for centuries. Even the grey dwarves remembered them being far too much trouble to try and oust from their establishment.

Vian had been on two patrols before but not with her current squad. From the looks she'd been given, or those which had been passed between the others, they were hoping for an opportunity for some purely private playtime again, like the times when they'd first been finding each other and sneaking about to various hiding places to fuck. Reflecting on those memories as well, Vian had winked, giving them hope. It was certainly possible if Mourn would keep watch for them.

Not that they could get lax on their other skills, as this outing would force them to hone their edge if they'd come back alive and all together. There were rules; no one was alone for more than quarter a mark without checking in through their shard of emerald.

Vian had created this method with Y'shir's guidance, as one of her first major magical passes; she had given one to each so they could at least sense each other when a shard got close enough to another shard. They couldn't share any words, though. If someone was out of range too long, Mourn was sent to sniff them out. For the first three times, he always found them well, and all along the border patrol was fine.

The fourth time, a full ten cycles out from the city and near the fifth post, it wasn't so well when Mourn led them to their missing scout.

"Ilse!" Kerym whispered in distress.

*SILENCE,* Vian signed, trying to get her own heartbeat under control, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. They studied only as long as she dared. A hodge-podge collection of miscreants had found their scout and captured her. There was no way this mix of off-image pechs, grey dwarves, and koa-toas would actually work together like this!

Ilse was unconscious and bound, and within a quint-mark of sensing no significant magic about these creatures, the Drow squad had signed enough. They prepared to act: range and magic first, then the melee fighters would dive in to cut them all down, retrieving their squadmate alive.

Then the Mindflayers arrived.

No...

Vian held everyone in place, angrier and more scared at what she was about to witness than she'd ever been, yet she knew that meant it was the wrong time to act. She knew a little about Illithids, but it was only theory. There hadn't been any recent sightings too close to their city; not since Vian was alive.

What had changed?

The thralls—because that was what those others were, not true for their race but thralls!—parted for their masters, and the two Illithids poked at Ilse as if checking over her for physical flaws. The tentacles on their bulbous faces curled and swayed as if they were actually talking, though they were eerily quiet, tall and too slender in their dark robes. One kneeled down to bring its head closer to Ilse, testing how easily it could slide its tentacles into her nostrils.

No...no, no!!

Vian wasn't sure who had cried out—maybe it had been herself—but both Mindflayers turned to look in their direction. The psionic creatures had heard their thoughts and...and...!

The thralls charged all at once.

Oh, shit.

"Saida!" Vian commanded.

Her battle mage had been waiting. It was a glorious fireball. Half the thralls fell, burning.

"Jahn!"

A second fireball. Kerym's arrows punched into those three stubborn dwarves still standing, slowing them just enough for Eallo and Vian to cut down the rest.

"Mourn?!" Vian called, looking and unable to spot him as they had spread out just enough to maneuver and defend.

Against what hit them next, however, their defense wasn't enough.

The two Illithids spaced themselves just apart from each other, deliberate and poised, their timing impeccable as Vian made eye contact with one.

~One.~

Something deep and impossibly dense ripped through their heads, setting off every nerve as if exposed in an open wound, a trembling undercurrent with the power of an earthquake trapping them in splintered, cracking glass for a split instant.

They screamed, all of them, falling and begging for the pain to stop.

In another black moment, it did.

*******

Vian smelled blood; she tasted it in the back of her throat. She smelled charred flesh blocking out most scents of the wilderness. She could hear nothing; the roaring in her ears was too loud, and when she turned her neck slightly, her entire head felt bruised as if beaten repeatedly with a mace.

She heard someone breathing heavily above her, a clear tremor present in every inhale and exhale, as if he was afraid. Or hurt.

"Sergeant," Mourn whispered.

His voice wasn't too loud, thank Lolth.

"Mmm," she managed.

"Vian?" he asked, a little louder.

"Shh—!" she hushed, afraid of her head popping like a blood pearl mushroom at the noise.

A moment of quiet.

Her youngest squadmate put something to her lips, a bottle, and she had to decide quickly whether to drink it or not. She thought she recognized the odor...the taste...

She drank. The roar in her ears began to recede.

Is...is anyone still around?

"M-mindfl..." she coughed, rolling to hack and spit out the blood which had been flowing down her throat from her nose. She still hadn't opened her aching eyes.

"I killed them," Mourn said.

He had? How?

"A-anyone...casualty?" she groaned, lifting her head with effort to look at the half-blood.

Mourn had been bleeding from the nose as well, but it looked to have stopped. He blinked at her, concerned. "I-I don't know."

She swallowed her first demanding, unforgiving thought, which she almost shouted at him. So check! Fuckin'...check on my squad...now—!

No, no... she told herself next. Remember...he's young. He's a baby...

*Are you hurt?* she asked him by sign, looking him over. She saw no open wounds.

*Not bad,* he signed. *Headache.*

She believed him. *Can you keep watch? Scent for other hostiles?*

Mourn nodded earnestly.

*Go. Warn me if anything is coming. I'll check our team.*

As she unsteadily got to her feet, Vian saw Eallo shifting first; she went to him, searching the pouch on his belt for the same bottle Mourn had found on hers. She broke the wax seal and brought it to his lips. "Eallo...drink."

A cough, a groan. He opened his eyes, and he looked at her as he always had. "V-Vian...?"

Her knees felt like liquid as she confirmed she had at least one of them back. She leaned down and kissed him as though he was a stream and she was dying of thirst. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then she squeezed his shoulder.

"Help me with the others."

Slowly their group regained strength, soothing part of the psionic damage done to their minds with magic and potions. Ilse was freed, and though she was terrified at what had almost become of her, she wasn't suffering from the double mindblast like the rest.

*We've got to find a place to hole up,* their female scout said. *We're not good to move on.*

*We can't stay here, Ilse,* Eallo refined.

*Of course not. Mourn and I can help get you all somewhere safe.* Ilse shifted her gaze to her Sergeant. *He said he found a place.*

Vian looked at him, and the half-blood nodded. *How do you know it is safe?*

Mourn hesitated; he looked at the ground as he signed. *Within my Sire's territory.*

Even Jahn shook his head in disbelief. *From Illithids to Dragons?*

*He sleeps,* Mourn pressed. *Will not bother us, and no race will come near even if they smell blood.*

Vian glanced around at how many of them had stains on their clothes from the nosebleeds. She sighed, then looked at the Dragonchild again. She poked his thigh; he looked at her and she locked with those golden eyes.

*You are not lying. Your sire is asleep? There's no danger from him?*

His nostrils flared a bit. *I am not lying, Sergeant. He sleeps a long time.*

Vian made her decision.

*Clean up anything here that looks like Drow,* she instructed to all of them. *Take anything known and useful from the thralls, nothing unknown. Then let's buck it out of here.*

*******

Stepping into the vicinity of the upper cave which Mourn had chosen, Vian did feel something a little...odd at the edge of her senses. This place didn't seem like a normal part of the Underdark. If rock could breathe and the stalagmites could hum a tune to the lichen to coax them to stay, she thought it might as well be here.

She wasn't the only one paranoid, jumping at shadows as they made camp and settled down, sorting their supplies and everything they'd taken from the bodies not burned to uselessness. They rested, sipped on one more precious healing potion, passing it around to take the edge of their headaches, and ate. Eventually they all started to feel like living Drow again.

"Can't believe we were all 'thwumped' like that," Jahn murmured, staring into his blue crystal light to scratch some notes. "It took...almost nothing on their part. Six of us, one attack."

Saida turned her head, her mouth twitching. "Thwumped?"

"That's what it sounded like in my ears," he said, his smile shy and affectionate for his mage-match.

She chuckled. "You don't say a lot, my handsome, but when you do, it makes sense. I like it. I can even agree. Do you?"

Vian and the others caught her eyes, nodded as they thought about it. Saida slid nearer to Jahn, putting an arm around his waist. He welcomed it, relaxing against her as she kissed his ear. He kept writing, though anyone could tell his face had warmed with his thoughts of Saida.

"So what happened, exactly?" Vian asked them. "Everyone describe what it was they saw, from when we found Ilse to when you woke up. Eallo, start with you."

"As always, Sarge," Kerym teased.

"He always came first, didn't he?" Jahn jested, winking at him.

"Put a cock in it," Eallo answered with a smirk. Then he followed his Sergeant's request.

Vian listened to each story, and they mostly matched. There were a few new details from each, odd things they had noticed either about the Illithids or their thralls. She asked Ilse to go next, allowing her to describe how she'd been tricked by sound bouncing before she was led into an ambush.

"I...wanted to follow it, Sarge," she said quietly. "I'm sorry that I did. Part of me was...lured. They didn't hurt me, just...grabbed me, put me out without pain."

Interesting. Probably wanted her as a thrall, too. Or maybe something worse... Vian didn't know anyone who knew what happened to a Drow dragged back to an Illithid nest. Or at least none who had been willing to say.

"What are they doing around here now?" Saida asked. "Why this close to our borders? We haven't heard anything in centuries."

Mourn had been silent up until then. "A new Elder Mind has settled near here. It is...exploring. The Illithids act on behalf of their Elder."

The squad blinked at the Dragonchild. He looked exhausted, weaving a bit as if he wanted to sleep. Vian might have encouraged him to lie down and close his eyes, but he couldn't say something like that and not follow up.

"How do you know that?" Vian asked with a frown.

Her young squadmate muttered quietly. "The Elder Mind arrived in the time my Sire was teaching me to speak your language. He met with it once. They came to an agreement."

The Sergeant swallowed. "Oh? Where were you? Back at his den?"

Mourn shook his head. "I clung to my Sire's back. Most of the time."

"That's an Abyss of an image," Kerym commented. No one could really disagree.

Fuck. Vian tried not to blink. "Okay, Mourn. What agreement between your sire and the Elder Mind?"

He shook his head again. "I do not know. I couldn't hear them. It did not speak to me but it was aware of me."

He's seen an Elder Mind and is still sane, Vian thought, astonished. Or at least as sane as any confused, half-blooded Drow could be under Miz'ri's tender teachings. Teachings. Ha. She's wasting him trying to breed him too soon. He knows about the Illithids... and he can fucking fight them!

"How did you kill those two Illithids before they could kill us, Mourn?" she asked, and the others perked up.

Mourn tried, but his eyes couldn't focus on her anymore. She had to ask the question again, touching his arm.

"How, Mourn? How did you do it? I need you to speak."

He nodded.

"Too late to move everyone from their attack," he murmured, looking as if he might slip farther into reverie with each question. "Not strong enough to block...I got behind. Used a Word to stun them. Then Blade Song."

"A... Word?"

He nodded, his eyes starting to close. "The Words...I hear them..."

"Mourn?"

He tilted to one side, falling.

"Mourn!"

"Fuck!"

"Catch 'im!"

The three females were closest, and they caught the heavy hybrid, laying him down without him striking his head. Saida shifted a pack beneath his head, and Ilse checked his pulse while Vian tested his temperature, pulling up her glove to press her wrist to his damp forehead. His skin was very, very hot.

"Heart's racing, Sarge," Ilse whispered.

Yes, she could hear that, too.

"I don't know what's wrong. Damn it," she muttered, working with the other two to turn and hold him just right so she might get just a little water down his throat without choking. He swallowed by reflex but didn't wake up.

"Maybe just let him sleep?" Eallo suggested behind her. "We can watch him. He never slept normally, anyway, but his body always knows what it needs."

That is true...

Jahn nodded in agreement with her Right Hand. "And if he just used Dragon magic instead of Drow to defeat the mindflayers, maybe that sapped his..."

Abruptly the battle mage covered his mouth as he was caught in a huge yawn. The others were staring and he looked embarrassed just afterward.

"No, I agree, more of us should sleep, not just Mourn," Eallo picked it up, aware and intent. He always spoke when he had a strong opinion about something, trusting Vian to consider his thoughts. "You need rest, Sergeant. So does Jahn. Ilse and I can keep watch."

"Heads elevated, in case you have a concussion still," Ilse added, straightening up.

"Fairly sure the potions took care of that," Saida debated.

"Sleep with Jahn, anyway. You know that revives your magic sooner."

"I keep telling you, that's not how it works."

Ilse smirked. "I've noticed you still feel better afterward, mage. Less slitty."

"Hey!"

Vian had been studying Eallo the entire time; he looked good, probably the strongest of them. So did Ilse, all things considered.

Their Sergeant, on the other hand, still feels like crystalline spider piss...

"It's a good idea," she said. "Let's sleep while we can. Heads on packs at the very least. Eallo and Ilse keep first and second watch. You wake me up if you need rest."

Eallo nodded. "Got it, Sarge."

Vian wasn't sure why but she wanted to stay close to Mourn as he slept. She tugged out the whisper-light, insulating blanket from her pack and draped it over both her and what it would cover of him, moving closer to share the pack as a pillow. He shifted closer in his sleep, leaning toward her, and Vian touched his forehead again, running her bare fingers over his face as if trying to learn it beyond what her eyes could see. Then she stroked his hair.

She felt something different, something strange. Little bumps on his skull.

"Fever?" Ilse asked.

"Uh...not sure," Vian said, distracted from the hard nubs. "He's hot. That's about all I can say."

"Fever."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

There was something different... As Mourn might say, she "tasted" something strange about him on her tongue. It did not taste like illness. It was something else. Despite her curiosity, however, the warmer she became beneath the blanket, the harder it was to keep her eyes open.

"Mind if we share the heat?" Saida asked, coaxing both Jahn and Kerym over as well with their blankets.

"Please do," Vian accepted, "but don't grope him."

Saida gave her Sergeant a teasing look. "We know as well as you that he doesn't like that. Jahn and I think our auras added will help him heal."

Now they were talking sense. Vian found herself smiling as Kerym and her two battle mages carefully snuggled in with her and their half-blood.

A subtle, underlying tension which seemed ever-present in Mourn slowly melted and disappeared. He breathed deeper, legs and tail tucked up, armed and hands curled in; Vian could better see the youth as he truly was. It had been a long, long time since she'd seen a child asleep and was aware of the fact, but the way his aura was humming quietly now, she could even imagine him growing taller still while he snoozed.

The Sergeant stayed there as she replayed everything which had happened. By the end of it, her heart had lifted with firm realization. Vian had a new negotiating piece with the Matron. House Dar'Prohn had far bigger things to train for now with this new threat, and Miz'ri had an undeniable advantage over the other Houses in her nephew. She wouldn't pass it up. Vian might even be able to convince his Aunt to keep her perverted hands off him for a while.

A plan was starting to form in Vian's mind—

Then she slipped into reverie with the rest of her squad.

For a long time, it was simply dark and quiet.

*********

She needs the rest. She will get her rest.

Eventually she became aware, and she heard a low chuckle tickle the air around her as she blinked into the dark. Slowly she stepped in place, turning to all sides. The deep, penetrating voice came from everywhere around her.

"As stand-in Mothers go," the powerful, male voice said, "you'll do. Beware his tail, that will grow even longer."

"Who are you?" she asked before thinking it through.

"Your host."

Now she did think it through. He had declared her a Stand-in Mother, and he accepted? She imagined she licked her lips; a betrayal of nervousness. "You are the Black Drake?"

He undeniably was pleased. "The one and only."

Her lips tightened up as she thought of her squad, weakened and vulnerable from the mindflayer attack, and here was the Dragon watching them despite the fact he was supposed to be asleep.

"Your 'squad' will come to no harm here, Vian," he said with obvious amusement, "although thank you for that wonderfully stubborn expression. It must run in the family."

What?

"Y'shir hasn't told you. Very well, my mistake."

She blinked, experiencing a surge of shock. "You know the Grandmaster?"