Chapter 22

“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.”

“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 hot ball of fury in her stomach.

“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 ran her hand through his shaggy brown hair, despite everything it was difficult to be angry with him. 

“I know a place. If…” he paused with a frown, “If it still stands. We will need horses, sister.”

“Horses, I have! Seven of them to choose from.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “Come on, there’s a farm just down the road 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 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. You know very well whose hip you're getting free with.” Syreilla watched as he grinned his too wide grin. 

“True.” He looked at her with amusement, “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 obviously 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 sister, that I wish to shake you. I could show you such delights.” He sounded frustrated.

“Brother, I love you. But I am not elf enough to want to f**k you.” She took in his annoyed expression. “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.”

“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 own 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. “Unless you know another place to find a horse.”

“You put us on the road to Wreton?” Syr stared into the middle distance and frowned. “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.”

The farm they approached in the gloaming was small. The man there had a wife and a half dozen children, one of the daughters 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 Syr 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, Syr leaned against Vezar. “It seems like ferrying corpses 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 a*s. 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.