26

Notes: 1) My thanks to Arec for reading over this and giving me a few things to look at and adjust! 2) If you see

this

version of the story anywhere other than Literotica it isn't supposed to be there. 3) Because of shorter chapters, this is being posted in chunks.

4) This is the last chunk of Undying and the next story, Golden Rook, will go up soon.

*****

*Twenty-two*

"Kaduil." Syr saw him standing on top of the crates at the gate looking for her. Vezar dragged her forward, even in a smaller form he was incredibly strong. "Stop, Vezar, that's-"

"I know who it is, sister. The elves are with him. Have you forgotten we are being hunted?" he hissed at her angrily.

Walking away from Kaduil felt like a knife twisting in her heart. "He knew me, even with all you've changed."

Vezar's annoyed sigh made her look at him sharply.

"The threads you're bound to him with are strong,

Anissa

. If I'd known the threads I'd prepared for myself would be used by the dwarf I would have waited more patiently."

She'd used the wrong name. "Adiel, I'm going to ask you to explain yourself thoroughly when we get somewhere we can talk."

The thought of Vezar trying to manipulate her against her will put a scowl on her face as they moved through the throng with purposeful casualness toward the outer edge. Some people were leaving the city but some were just stepping outside the walls to gather themselves and escape the monsters it seemed from the clusters forming and looking back at the gate.

"I will be glad to. I want you to understand and to let me show you how to use our gifts." He gave her a wry smile, "We will be together for a very long time. No matter how angry you may get with me, Anissa, you need me and I need you."

"Let's get somewhere safe or Olthon is going to try to prove you a liar." Syr pulled him to the outer edge of one of the clusters for a moment and ran her hand through his shaggy brown hair. Despite everything, it was difficult to be angry with him. "I know a few places to lay low not far from here but I want to get farther away as soon as possible."

"I know a place. If..." he paused with a pensive frown, "If it still stands. We will need horses."

"Horses, I have! Seven of them to choose from." She gave him a mischievous smile. "Come on, we'll have to circle around the city but I left them at a farm not far from the gate I used. I told the farmer he could have them if I could take two when I came back."

"He may wish to argue, you no longer look as you did." The way his hand moved on her hip as she put her arm around him and tried to encourage him forward made her stiffen. "Forgive me. I am too accustomed to being free with Millesant's body. You resemble her strongly."

"I don't believe that for a moment,

brother

." She reminded him pointedly of what their relationship was. "You know very well whose hip you're getting free with." Syreilla glanced and caught his too-wide grin.

"True. She was, however, very fond of the form I chose to tempt you with. She didn't even complain about the beard."

Syr snorted. "She didn't spend time around dwarves who know how to take care of their beards."

"No, she liked larger men." Vezar looked at her archly.

"My Kaduil is plenty large enough. And his height is," Syr grinned and blushed with the memory, "not a problem."

"There are moments that I wish to shake you. I could show you such delights." He sounded frustrated as he turned his face away looking around them.

"I love you. But I am not elf enough to want to fuck you." She took in his annoyed expression as he brought his attention back to her. "I know we're not blood-related, but it feels wrong to even consider it."

"That I love you, Syreilla, is maddening. I will take you any way I can have you. Your company is dearer than any other treasure I have possessed." Vezar pressed his head into the side of her chest under her arm.

"You've hardly had my company." She stopped walking to pull him close and bent to kiss his head as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "I've missed you, Vezar."

His eyes closed and he almost glowed with delight. "I am not letting you go again. Come. Let us get your horses and I will take you somewhere we will be safe for a time."

As she lifted her eyes, she saw two elves looking directly at her and one raised his arm, gesturing toward her.

"Elves," Syr whispered. "They're looking right at us."

"Kaduil," Vezar muttered angrily. "The dwarf intends to take you from me."

"He's my husband." She reminded him pointedly.

Vezar's response was to pull her back into a group of people. "Put your head down, sister."

The strange feeling of her features changing as he bumped and scratched people in the tight press of bodies made her shiver. "You can do that without-"

"They

will

die. It is crueler this way. They sicken and die slowly." His voice was quiet and regretful.

"I'm sorry." Syr squeezed his hand feeling how it grew larger in her grip. His clothes were growing too tight. Her clothes were becoming looser and she nearly tripped over the hem of the skirt. "Be careful. Too loose and too tight will attract attention." He pulled her close under his arm. Moving with the crowd milling outside the gate wasn't a good option. As soon as they moved away from the crowd the elves would see their clothes and know the new faces Vezar had given them. "We need to find a place to change our clothes."

"Patience. Be afraid. Be quiet." Vezar breathed at her.

She immediately put on a frightened face. In the shadow of an enclosed wagon, he lifted her onto it and quieted the man driving with a touch. He paled and swayed slightly as Vezar drained his life nearly to the point of death. Glancing around, she almost laughed at Vezar's luck. The cloth was pulled across the back and the wagon was carrying locked trunks.

"Change." He hissed at her.

Syr stripped out of her clothes and into one of Millesant's plain under shifts. It was short and loose but until she could find something better it was at least unidentifiable. Using her tools she opened one of the trunks and pushed her clothes and most of her other tools into it before locking it again.

"Ani, I do not think our friend feels well, help him lie down." Vezar's face was older though he hadn't made himself larger than his clothes would allow. "And come sit next to your father?"

Trying not to laugh, she helped the sickly man back into the wagon and tried to make him comfortable, unlocking trunks and looking in them she found him a mat to lay on. In the trunk with the mat, she found a cloak and pulled it out as well. By the time she had the man comfortable on the mat, he had died. Syr pulled the cloak around her and went to sit next to Vezar.

"Papa? You wanted me to sit next to you?" Keeping the teasing tone from her voice was impossible.

"Ani, you are such a mischievous thing." He pulled her close.

A moment later an elf bounded around the side of the wagon and Syr widened her eyes as if she were terrified and clung to Vezar. "Papa!"

"'S only an elf, Ani. 'S not the monster." Vezar looked at him reproachfully.

"Whose wagon is this?" Tirnel inquired looking at them dubiously.

"My friend Robion. He let us ride with him, after the fright, he wasn' feeling well. My Ani helped him into the back to lie down."

"She's hardly dressed." The elf pointed out as Syreilla curled her bare toes.

"We ran. I had told her to get a bath. She grabbed the first shift she laid hands on when the two monsters came into the inn." Vezar shook his head.

Tirnel stepped up onto the cart and reached for Syr. She closed her eyes tightly and whimpered, clinging to Vezar. The sound of a soft smack was followed by a ringing slap and Vezar jerked on the seat.

"

Papa!

" She buried her face in his side and made herself tremble, taking short heaving breaths.

The elf climbed past her into the back. Very deliberately she didn't look up or look back at him. Vezar began stroking her hair. "Shhh my Ani, shhhh my sweet girl."

"Your friend has died from his fright." Tirnel sounded as if he believed the display. "Where will you go?"

"Robion was going home to Wreton. The least I can do is take him home." Vezar's voice sounded sad and bitter.

"I wish you a speedy journey." Tirnel rested a hand on her back and she flinched as if he'd burned her, whimpering and making her breathing rough and uneven.

"Don' touch my girl." He barked at the elf. "You're safe my Ani. Shhhhh now. The elf is leaving." Vezar pulled her up and kissed her head pulling her almost into his lap.

She nodded and calmed, still making a show of uneven breathing as she clung to Vezar, slowly calming completely and looking up toward him. He had a darkening bruise on his face. "The elf hit you, papa?" Syr asked quietly.

"Don' worry about that, my sweet girl." She saw him give a faint smile. "We will need to find a place to stop for the night." His hand moved over her back under the cloak as if reassuring her. "Unless you know another place to find a horse."

"You put us on the road to Wreton and not toward Vreya?" Syr stared into the middle distance and frowned.

"They will expect me to cross the Acrine into Vreya as soon as possible. I would prefer not to go where they expect me to be."

"You have good instincts. There are other places to cross but... I don't often come this way, there aren't any towns large enough or wealthy enough to attract my attention. It's mostly fields."

"Where there are fields there are farmers and villages, my sweet girl. We can find something useful."

Syreilla arched a brow at him, tilting her head, and he laughed softly.

"Forgive me for telling you things you already know."

The farm they approached in the gloaming was small. The man there had a wife and a half dozen children, one of the daughters, perhaps twelve if she could judge the age well, was nearly the same size as Vezar had made 'his Ani', as Syr kept thinking of the shape she was wearing. They seemed to believe the story Vezar told, and, in exchange for some of the cloth out of the trunks, gave Syreilla a dress and a pair of worn-looking shoes that were nearly the right size.

At dawn, Vezar was rousing her to begin their journey again. They'd been given food to take with them and Syr thanked them sweetly, hating to take it. When she'd tried eating the night before it had all come back up as if she were ill. Vezar had stroked her hair and explained to the concerned mother that she'd inherited his nervous stomach. He'd said that when they were afraid and out of sorts neither could eat. She hadn't looked convinced and made her sip tea with honey and a stomach-soothing root. Syr had barely managed to keep it down.

Once underway with their dead cargo, Syreilla leaned against Vezar. "It seems like ferrying the dead home is what we do when we're together."

"I preferred our last journey. You slept in my lap. I almost went mad in the night knowing you were so close and I could not join you in bed."

"They might have voiced their concerns if you had. The farmer's wife gave you more than one disapproving frown for the way you looked at me. You were a little less than fatherly sometimes,

papa

." She poked his thigh.

"I thought it prudent to change from brother and sister. But it would be a lie to say I'm not enjoying this role. It allows me to keep you close and you are required to obey me." He smiled smugly and looked down at her.

"Required? No. I've always been a willful child." Syr sat up and narrowed her eyes at him with a smile.

"And I can turn you over my knee, my willful child. No one would stop a father from disciplining his daughter." His glittering eyes and his grin made her shake her head.

"You wouldn't dare. I would bite you and give you a good kicking." She could feel her cheeks coloring.

"I look forward to you testing me." He turned his attention back to the road.

Under her breath, she muttered, "You are an ass. Almost

elvish

you-"

"Speak louder, Ani. If you are asking to be across my lap now I would hear it." Vezar was grinning.

Syreilla climbed carefully over the seat to sit in the back with the corpse. Part of her was enjoying Vezar's playfulness more than she should and that bothered her. Pulling her tools from their hiding place and opening the trunk with her things, she looked for her boot knife, a reminder of where she belonged. It wasn't in her boot. Hunting through the trunk desperately, she couldn't find it. Lost.

*Twenty-three*

"What are you looking for Ani?" Vezar had been having a great deal of fun imagining turning Syr over his knees. With the way her face colored and she seemed to try to provoke him, he thought she was enjoying it as well. Her departure from the seat next to him made his heart sink.

"My knife. The one Kaduil made for me, I can't find it," she sounded anguished.

"I was not looking for a knife when I took you from the ground and began to pour life into you," he reminded her gently.

"I'm not-I'm not accusing you. I just." Touching the threads he could feel that she was hurting as if she had a knife in her heart.

"Come to me. Come here." He bowed his head as he heard her trying to muffle a sob. "I am sorry I did not-"

She wrapped her arms around him from behind. Vezar pressed her hands. The bonds between them were still strong, but the bonds between his Syreilla and Kaduil were stronger.

"The knife means a great deal to you."

She murmured into his back, "He made it for me. It," her ragged breath was genuine, "it's beautiful. To lose it. It hurts me."

"I feel that, my sweet Syreilla." Rubbing her hands he tried to make her feel his regret and affection through the bonds. "What hurts you hurts me." The response through them was heady, a wave of loving affection.

Snapping the reins, he brought the horse to trot. He would go faster but he knew these wagons were not made for it. Wreton would allow him to be free of the body and wagon, it was at least the right direction to take her to the shrine. If it still stood it would be safe. The goddess granted him his heart's desire before, she may do it again if she saw the love that he held.

"Where are we going, Vezar?" Syreilla sighed against his back.

"Come sit with me." He pulled her into his lap as she joined him on the seat. The way she curled into him made him close his eyes and exhale in relief. "I am taking you to the place where I was given the gift of change. It will be safe, if it still stands."

"Olthon... He said I was slippery but he was still able to follow me."

Vezar smiled, feeling her concern as she spoke.

"If he's still following me you won't have a safe place. Leave me somewhere. I want you to be safe."

"My perfect Syreilla, I have been parted from you enough. I will take the risk."

"Perfect?" She laughed softly. "You've been trying to change me since you met me."

"Foolishly." Vezar squeezed her. "I wanted you to be less sharp to me, more obedient, more affectionate. I," he hesitated, "I readied the threads of your desire. They would stick like burrs to me if you cared for me."

"And because I love Kaduil they stuck to him instead."

"Yes. They

can

be detached."

"I don't want them to be detached."

He could feel her heart aching as badly as his own.

"I love him and I want to go home to him, Vezar."

"You feel for him what I feel for you. It is why I will settle for simply having you beside me, though I ache to have you completely." Kissing her hair he hoped she didn't hear the lie in his words. He would never truly settle. There was time. The dwarf could never hope to have the time with her that he would.

"I'm sorry." Syr's soft sigh made him smile, in this form she sounded childlike.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't mean to play with your heart like a cat with a mouse."

Vezar began to laugh and pulled her tightly against him. "Play with me. I enjoy it more than it hurts." He felt her shake her head and relax. Sweet Syreilla was back where she belonged; that was the only thing that truly mattered.

"It occurs to me to ask, how do you know where Wreton is? Was it there when you were King?" Her curious question made him smile.

"If it was there I have no memory of it. It was spoken of as I journeyed with the caravan. There was a signpost outside of Brosa and I spoke with the farmer explaining I had not been this way. I have been given direction, sweet Syreilla."

"Was Brosa there?"

"I do not recall that name. There was a city near that place called Habrosas. Perhaps the name was shortened over the years."

"That's fascinating to me. What else has changed?"

He began to laugh. "You are so inquisitive. I have not seen a map and I have seen very little of this country since I have awakened. What is it called now? It was once called Istira."

"Istara. It never occurred to me that the names of places would change little by little. It does make sense though, I guess. Everything is always changing." Her words were perceptive, so much so that he thought she might be repeating something she'd heard.

"That is the purest truth, Syreilla. How did you come to it?" He stroked her no longer elvish ear.

"Master Odos. He trained me for years, and had me trained by other thieves and a few mages, he sent me on the first job for Zylius. He could drink anyone under the table and he only drank mead. Even little hole-in-the-wall taverns out in the middle of nowhere with barely a drinkable beer had a bottle of mead lying around for him." She laughed and sighed as the comprehension of who she was talking about dawned over him. "'Everything changes, that's the only thing that stays the same, my little rook. You just have to decide what you want to hold onto for the time you've got it and know it'll be gone one day well before you're ready.'"

"Odos was the name of a god once. He was one of the trickster gods, a thief and a poet." He'd been certain she had the favor of a god, Odos wasn't the worst she could have.

"He said he'd been named after him." Syr nodded. "His mother had named his brother Imos like the god as well and they got along almost as well as the gods were reputed to. He's the one who taught me how to get in and out of temples. I actually cried when he died. I made sure he got the very best funeral I could arrange... buried him with a big cask of his favorite mead..." Her sadness even after so long was palpable.

"You loved him." Vezar kissed her hair.

"I did. He could be awful, especially when he was drunk, but he could also be as sweet as he was cunning. And as far as getting in and out of places goes, he'd probably still make me look like a fumbling beginner. He was the most brilliant, cunning man I ever met." The awe and admiration in her voice gave him a twinge of jealousy. "And quick, we-" she started to laugh, "we once had a job that put us in the treasury of the King of Vreya, Mad King Hannor, and that man was so paranoid-" the sound of hoofbeats silenced her.

"I cannot get you to safety quickly enough like this Syreilla," Vezar whispered, holding her tensely as the rider, who appeared to be a courier, thundered past. "We need a faster way."

"If we stumble across any bandits, that might work in our favor, but when you want them to pop up you can never find them. Are you willing to leave your friend without getting him all the way home?" She sounded dubious.

"I am."

Robion hadn't been a friend. He'd kept to himself and been tolerable which had been appreciated, there was a difference.

"I'll dig around in the back and see what I can find, I may come up with an idea. I think I'd still rather get him back to Wreton, even if we have to pay someone else to do it." Syr shifted in his lap trying to disentangle herself from his embrace.