21

Notes: 1) If you see this story anywhere but Literotica it isn't supposed to be there. 2) Because of shorter chapters, this is being posted in chunks.

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*Fourteen*

The feel of cloth on his skin was unfamiliar and vaguely unpleasant but Syreilla's scent filled Vedhethrah's nose. It made the cloak she gave him bearable.

Syvezar gave him a look of amusement. "I can lend you a robe."

"I prefer her cloak."

"You will need something more substantial." Cyran shook his head. "Perhaps the elves will lend you something."

"Or I can steal something for him." Syreilla grinned as she opened the flame-lined door for them. "Since you're so insistent on my need to thieve, cousin."

Their cousin gave her a look that was both amused and annoyed before he went through the door. Vedhethrah and Syvezar followed.

"Somehow I don't think you need me for thieving, my little rook." Odos gave her a speculative look as he crossed to the edge of the encampment with Syreilla.

"Do you have any poets in your pockets, Father?"

"I have a few." He smiled slyly, "What tales do you need to have told?"

"It isn't just elves the war is hurting, I'm almost certain. I want tales of good things from the past to sprout up. Let them remember the good Uncle Imos did before things got bad, stories-"

"Stories that make them want peace and turn their faces away from the huntress."

"Yes. And some stories that make the heart go soft, I know you know a few."

He laughed and gave her a doting smile. "I do. No stories of the Rook?"

"There will be a few popping up, new stories coming from the soldiers."

Her grim smile made Vedhethrah uneasy and he peered into his treasure's threads. Her plans and visions swam together dizzyingly, but a thread of fire and death was wound firmly through all of it.

"Not pleasant stories, I assume." Odos reached out and touched her face. "I'll see what I can do."

"Keep yourself a little safer this time, Father?"

"I let you spend too much time with Khiril, you're trying to set me an impossible task!" The god grinned, stepping away.

"If you die to spite me, old man, I'll go around telling people you secretly like cider better than mead."

"Father likes cider?" A half-elf came up to them at a trot with a smile on his face.

"Children are supposed to be a comfort!" Odos gave them both a sour look and Syreilla grinned.

"Let me know when you take up that mantle, I'll try it on too."

He barked a laugh and opened a door of his own, vanishing through it.

"I'm glad you're back, but I wish he was staying too. I always like having Father around, the world makes more sense. It's good to see you again, Cyran." The half-elf glanced at Vedhethrah and Syvezar. "Who are your other friends?"

"Vezar tore himself in two in anguish, so now I have two husbands. Syvezar, the god of purification and rebirth, and Vedhethrah the god of punishment and pain, if you've earned it." She ran her thoughts over his threads in reassurance and he felt her pride and desire.

Vedhethrah made a pleased sound and the half-elf took a step back.

"Where is Nali? How is she settling in?" Syreilla asked as she started toward her brother.

"She's having dinner, Amtalia tried to make something more dwarvish for her. Father, Tirnel, I mean, arranged some clothes to be made for her and we've gotten her some bedding. Nali didn't think her journey through."

"When I was young I never traveled with much. My work clothes, my kit, a bedroll... I could steal anything else I needed easily enough."

"Her clothes are barely work clothes, her kit is incomplete and borrowed, and she didn't bring a bedroll." Kwes sighed, guiding them through the encampment. "I can see I'll need to make sure Belthamdir knows what she needs to travel with when she's older."

"You could let her learn it like Father let us learn it. If you spend a few cold nights or a few itchy weeks you learn to bring your own bedding."

"I had the good sense never to go without my own bedroll." Kwes gave her an appalled look.

Vedhethrah laughed. He stopped and cleared his throat when Syreilla gave him a sour look. "Do not give me sharp looks, my treasure, you have not finished your punishments."

"Punishments?" Kwes arched an eyebrow and stopped in front of a tent.

"Add it to the list of things you're punishing me for, beloved." Her face flushed slightly as she stepped closer to steal a kiss, her hand slipping inside the cloak to rest on his chest.

He purred with pleasure and pulled her closer. The tent flap burst open and a pair of elves with hands on their weapons stood in front of them.

"That sounded like a dragon..."

"It was." Syreilla gave them a wide grin. "My dragon. One of them."

'"Is... Is he only wearing a cloak?"

"I dislike the feel of cloth." Vedhethrah gave them a cool look and their hands tightened on their weapons.

"I'll see what I can steal for you, my dragon. I'll be going over to the other side for a... visit soon enough and I can probably find something made of steel, gold if I'm lucky." She grinned at him.

"You are the only gold I desire." He stroked the threads of desire and reached out to touch her perfect pointed ear.

"Steel it is, beloved."

"He serves you?" The elves stepped back and gestured for her to enter.

"No, he's one of my two husbands. They're here to help me. My brother can make the introductions."

"That should be done by your priestess." A red-haired elf with a fine breastplate frowned.

"Nali is occupied but I can fetch her." Kwes ducked out of the tent.

"Or we can all introduce ourselves." Syreilla shrugged. "Syvezar, the god of purification and rebirth, my husband, Vedhethrah, the god of punishment and pain, if you've earned it, who is also my husband. One is a little more dragon than the other but both are beautiful and loved."

She gave him an adoring look before shifting her gaze to give the same to Syvezar. Vedhethrah felt a twinge of jealousy.

"My cousin, Cyran, the god of mediation and healing rifts. And of course, myself. I am the Golden Rook, goddess of righteous vengeance and protector of gentle souls, the Lady of smoke and flame."

The elves bowed low.

"I am Fainor Culinion, I lead these people and this army as best I can, Lady Rook. These are my Commanders, Ruthanar Inchon, Aenir Turendil, and Emlinor Maethorion."

Syreilla inclined her head. Syvezar offered a shallow bow as did Cyran, but Vedhethrah simply studied them.

"What else needs to be said?" Syreilla glanced at Syvezar.

"We wish to ask for your aid." Fainor frowned.

"I've already promised it, but I suppose I didn't promise it to you. I'm going to bring an end to this war and I'm going to rain fire and vengeance on those who've earned it. What more do you need?"

*Fifteen*

"Your guidance, Lady Rook."

"I brought my rooks. I told them to attach themselves to elves, Baduil is overseeing it. You'll be able to use them as scouts or spies and they'll do their best to keep the elves they're attached to safe."

"We thank you for that." Aenir took a step forward, "But we need you to show us where to strike them. Help us choose our battles wisely."

"I won't be much help with that. I've never been much of a warrior."

Fainor didn't seem pleased.

"I do things my own way. I don't know much about war strategies, I'm a goddess of vengeance not of war. Syvezar and Vedhethrah may be of more help to you there, but if you give me an opening I'll take it."

One of the other elves started to speak angrily in their tongue and Syvezar spoke sharply to him. She glanced at Vedhethrah who was giving the elves a displeased look.

"What did he say?"

"He asked why we've been expecting things to change when you were freed, why it was important to search for you." Fainor's brows rose as she grinned mirthlessly at his answer.

"Because I'll bring fire when I'm asked to on behalf of a child, but I always bring a little extra for mine. I've given my word to bring fire and vengeance and you can rely on a Rook."

The elf glanced at one nearer the tent flap and a command was given to someone outside.

"They're fetching the children and the offering." Syvezar gave her a baffled look.

"An offering?" Syreilla looked at Fainor curiously. "I'm not an elven god."

"No, but we'll take you if you'll give us aid."

"Am I allowed to have all three?" She rubbed her temples, contemplating it. Somehow it felt like juggling knives, she'd need to be careful where she put her hands.

"Who will stop you?" Vedhethrah smirked and she laughed.

"Dwarves worship you?" Aenir looked startled. "I thought the girl was..."

"They do things differently. You'll see my banner with those of the others, though."

"We've seen your banner enough." The one who'd spoken angrily, Ruthanar, gave her a furious look.

"I was given the sigil of the Rook. It was lovely, and I liked it, but the feather is what I took for myself. Thieves carried them for luck. If I know Orsas Fellforger, the banner the dwarves march under as mine will be the hammer and feather, like the false sigil my father gave Magpie. You can choose your own, but the feather is my symbol, put it on the banner with something that means something to you."

"Your brother calls himself Kwes." Fainor's face softened.

"What does Magpie have to do with-"

"My treasure," Vedhethrah interrupted her with a murmur in her ear, "Kwes means feather."

She couldn't keep in her laughter and the elves smiled faintly. "I'll share it with him if he asks me to. My feathers are golden but his should be black and white."

The flap was pushed aside and a few nervous-looking elf children were ushered in. One had large green eyes and Syr tilted her head studying the child. The ears on her head weren't her own.

"Kwes said you hadn't yet met your niece, but you seem to recognize her." Fainor stepped between them and it took a moment to realize what he said as he picked the girl up to put in Syreilla's lap.

"This is my niece?"

"Belthamdir." He said something encouraging to the girl but she just stared into Syr's eyes.

"He should have told me."

"Kwes?"

"No. Finwion. I understand now. He's lent them." She gently touched the girl's ear.

"My treasure?" Vedhethrah peered into her threads and made a sound of surprise.

"Send for Kwes," Fainor spoke firmly.

"You brought the children to me for a reason." She looked up at the red-haired elf. "To show me that this war hurts them so that I'll claim them and bring something extra on their behalf. I'm already aware. I spoke to the clever boy. When I went to visit him, his trees were filled with ragged little tents. Children with their ears cut were hiding among them."

Emlinor stepped forward, his eyes widening in shock.

"My dear friend sat among the tents wearing grief and after I'd spoken to his protector, a child wielding a tiny knife, he showed me why they were wearing hoods. I tried to give him my ears, but he refused them."

"How many children? Where?" He glanced at the tent flap as Kwes entered hurriedly.

"They were trying to keep out of sight. I couldn't-"

"Where are they? Are they safe? Can we-"

Syr held up her hand. "What would you do if you could get to them now? Bring them here? The clever boy will look after them."

"Families are mourning their lost children!" Emlinor's hands curled into fists.

"Hope for the best and prepare for everything you can, the best, the worst, and everything in between. If elves pray, pray to him to keep them safe. Leave him offerings to help him do it."

A plate was thrust at her and she smiled ruefully looking at the mead cakes on it. She offered it to Belthamdir. "Would you like to share them?"

Syvezar asked the question in her language and the girl smiled shyly and nodded. The other children looked hopeful and Syreilla beckoned them to come closer. The cakes were gone in a matter of moments. Belthamdir pushed a small bite of what she had left toward Syr with a hopeful look.

She let the girl feed it to her and then playfully pretended to eat the child's fingers, making her laugh and say something that sounded chiding in elvish. Several of the elves stifled laughter but the other children giggled.

"If you act that way you won't get any more, silly bird." Magpie grinned.

Syr grinned back, "They didn't even make me eat waybread first this time, I should try to behave."

Fainor cleared his throat and put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "She says the clever boy has lent your daughter his ears."

"He's done more than that," Vedhethrah began and Syreilla cut him off with a lift of her hand.

Magpie studied her face. "Like Father did?"

"Yes. Apparently, it's a good line. He couldn't keep her from harm but he tried to repair it as best he could."

He took a breath and looked at his daughter carefully, "She was silent for months after... we thought she'd managed to stay hidden, some of the children did."

"The others vanished." Emlinor looked haunted, "We thought the soldiers took them. There was blood..."

"They may have," Syvezar spoke with a furrowed brow. "You..."

Syr leaned close to hear the whispered warning Ahevhethrah was sharing. "What I saw may have been specters, he could have taken a piece of the children so that when you get them back you'll have hope they'll be whole again and not shattered." She sat up taking in the elves' grim faces, "They were hiding from me, there was only one I could see with both eyes. I gave that child my spare knife."

"If you attack they may slaughter them," Aenir murmured.

"The one elf god who should never grieve is carrying the weight for you." Syreilla looked into their baffled faces one after the other. "He's giving you a gift. Go do what needs to be done without the weight of it, go do what needs to be done without the worry. If things can be put right he will see it done. Your task is to be strong. Your children are tender reeds enduring a chill, you have to be the water. Steam rises, water gets into every crack, and ice can shatter stone. Let them fight a winter river."

"If we're the river, what are you?" Ruthanar gave her a thoughtful look.

"I'm the Lady of smoke and flame. I'll help you make steam and one of my favorite ways of breaking down stone is heating it and freezing it over and over. The huntress' temple was taken down with a little bit of dragon's fire and a lot of cold water when I last stole her stone. Together, we can do it again. There is no task that time, tools, and hands cannot accomplish."

"We have little in the way of tools, only one siege engine, and most of our weapons are swords and bows. We would have already asked the dwarves to help us but there are soldiers between the mines and us."

"They may be supplying the-"

Syreilla held up her hand. "They are not supplying the huntress' soldiers. They would not. It's why she's turning her eye on them."

She gave the elves a mad grin, "The stone has to be hot before you pour the water. If she tries to force it things will get... interesting. If

you

force it, they'll get ugly. The dwarves are preparing. Why don't we see what I can burn in the meantime?

"Lay things out for us. Syvezar and Vedhethrah may be able to offer some help, you can send my rooks out for a fuller picture while you speak to them. I want to go find my Nali." Syr gave the elf girl in her lap a mischievous look, "And get to know my niece."

*Sixteen*

The bread Amtalia served for dinner wasn't dwarvish. Nali could tell that from looking at it. She gave it an experimental bite and found that even though it was soft and almost tasteless, you did at least need to chew it. Edun seemed delighted by it.

The sweet cheese was still strange but on bread that didn't dissolve in her mouth, it was edible. Nali had seconds and Amtalia beamed.

"I'm glad that you like it. At least now I know I can feed you at least one good meal."

Putting on a smile as best she could, she refrained from telling the half-elf that soft bread and a little bit of cheese you could spread like butter was a snack, not a meal, and certainly not a good one. "The bread is much better. Thank you, Amtalia."

"The bread is excellent." Edun looked cheerful. "I look forward to more. That was like something my mother used to make with nut flour from the tree my grandfather planted."

"I talked to some of the others and they suggested a flour made from nuts." The woman was beaming. "It's heavy like the dwarf bread but it has a better flavor."

"Stone bread has more flavor," Nali spoke before she could stop herself and Tirnel laughed quietly.

"It does. Dwarven foods are known for heavy spices and flavors. When we were traveling with Syreilla Acharnion, my father tried to earn her trust by trading food with her. He tasted the bread she'd brought from the mine and convinced her to eat our food. Like a stubborn child, she had to be bribed with mead cake to eat the waybread and she refused the sweet cheese. 'Cheese should never be sweet!'"

Amtalia laughed at the appalled expression he was trying to put on and Belthamdir insistently asked something that her grandfather answered warmly.

"The sweet cheese is strange, but it's better than some of the things you can find in Bhiraldur. The priests all bring foods from their home mines, some of them have fermented fish dishes that..." She shuddered and Tirnel laughed.

"I've encountered some of those. I thought they were more of a test of fortitude than a meal."

Nali lifted her cup in agreement and the elf laughed with delight, lifting his own in answer. Belthamdir touched her arm asking another question and the child's mother began to fuss.

"I'll take your clothes to be washed, Nali."

"Why? They-"

"Belthamdir likes to play with her food before she eats it."

Looking at her sleeve, Nali saw what the woman meant. There were some smears of the soft cheese where the girl had touched her.

"It'll brush off when it dries." She tried to give the woman a reassuring smile but Amtalia looked horrified.

"I think..." Edun studied her with a growing smile, "I think I understand. You'd wear the dirty clothes to avoid making work."

"Yes. I don't want her to have to go to the trouble. Feeding me is imposition enough."

"I would rather wash it than have our guest in dirty clothes." Amtalia's face softened.

"Your dress may be ready." Tirnel gave her an amused look. "You should get some rest and something will be clean and ready for you in the morning."

It didn't seem like the worst idea. It wasn't long after that she was in a shift of sorts made from one of Edun's spare undershirts and attempting to learn a game that Belthamdir was trying to teach her on a cloth mat in the tent they used for sleeping. It looked similar to something she'd seen a few priests playing at home.

The cloth had lines and dots along them, and they each had a handful of rounded stones, white or black. If they spoke the same language it might have been easier to grasp the game. As it was she couldn't tell if she was doing it right or wrong or who was winning. The elf child occasionally fussed or picked a piece that Nali put down back up and made her put it in another spot.

The flap pushed open and Magpie stuck his head in, "You're awake! Get your clothes on, Nali. Lady Rook is back and you've been sent for."

She blinked at him, "Uncle Magpie, my clothes have been washed..."

He sighed. "All of them? Didn't Father have something made for you?"

"The dress is still being made, she adjusted my work clothes and Belthamdir got cheese-"

Magpie waved his hand, "I know how she plays with her food and doesn't think before touching things." He stepped back letting the flap close. There was the sound of some sort of conversation outside and then it was quiet.