Fifty-one

“Why does my Syreilla need me to fetch the stone? She has always brought them to you, Divinity.” Vezar’s brow furrowed.

“There is more occurring than you understand, son of my son. You must fetch the stone.”

“I will, Divinity. I miss my treasure, even seeing her for a moment is a relief.”

“You cannot linger. You must bring it to me immediately.”

“Yes, Divinity.” He bowed and turned to go, making his way to the entrance. 

At the very least she would steal a kiss, the warmth each time she saw him made him feel whole. She had been like silk against his skin in the decades after they’d first arrived and now she was once again. He could forget the forty or fifty years of occasional sandpaper easily enough.

Vezar opened the door and stepped through as soon as he was outside, the wooded place was unfamiliar but the golden woman draped with a dark cloth was not. “Syreilla!” He beamed stepping toward her with his hand outstretched, “My treasure, I-”

“There’s no time for any of that, Vezar.” She thrust a pouch at him. “Take it and go. I-”

He inhaled, leaning toward her, “You stink of dwarf, my treasure.” There were other scents as well but that one concerned him most.

“I went to the mine.” She gave him an exasperated look, “Go! There’s no time!”

Stepping back, he found himself once more on the threshold, without a kiss and without any sign of affection from his Syreilla. She stank of dwarf. The memory of her entering the mine and being seduced by the dwarf once before filled him with fear and rage. To lose her… 

He took the stone to Hevtos, barely registering the command to be ready to retrieve another when summoned, and retreated to his chamber, pacing it endlessly and running his thoughts over the pressed down threads, struggling not to try to pull on them for her attention. 

Had her brief visit to the mine done so much damage? Was she longing to return to that wretched dwarf? The memory of how much stronger the threads had been that were attached to Kaduil made him want to rend the creature’s flesh and drag her home where she belonged. He snarled as the knock on his door disturbed his tortured thoughts.

“You are sent for. You must go to the threshold.”

Had it been so long already? It couldn't have been more than a day? This time he would have some certainty, his golden treasure could not leave. She belonged… it had been too long since he was a King but he was still great, he was still more impressive than a dwarf. Vezar hurried to the threshold. She enjoyed the feeling of his skin, of his claws… His treasure needed to be reminded.

The door opened and he went through with determination.

“Vezar, take this to Uncle, I have one left and I’ll-” She stopped and blinked in surprise as he embraced her, pressing his face to hers and letting her feel the tips of his claws through her clothes.

There was no answering sensation of pleasure on his threads, no sensation of any kind. She was keeping her threads pressed down tightly and no affection or desire met his attempt.

“My treasure, your dragon needs to know you haven’t-”

“My dragon,” she pulled away abruptly and gave him a sour look, “needs to take this and let me get back to work. I’m nearly done and then there can be cuddling to your heart's content. I have to be quick and so do you. Go!”

Taking the pouch as it was thrust at him he went back through the door and stood holding it on the doorstep. Hevtos came to the entrance and studied him with a frown.

“She no longer loves me.” The words felt like knives scoring his soul.

“She loves you, son of my son. Come. I will ask her to return for a time to ease your fears when these stones have been gathered. The elves can wait.”

“There was nothing, no desire, no joy, no,” Vezar closed his eyes as he gave over the stone, “no love when I touched her. She has pulled away from me, my treasure will leave me and go back to the mine.”

“She will not.” Hevtos rested a hand on his shoulder. “There is more than you understand happening, Vezar Edra. When the last stone has been given to me, Syreilla will be joyful to see you.”

“And if she is not?” He opened his eyes and met Hevtos concerned gaze.

“She will be.”

There had been nothing… He returned to his chamber and caught sight of his reflection in the robe she had stolen for him. Allowing his pain to come out in a resounding roar he tore it and immediately regretted it.

It was the one thing he had that was rich and she had always been pleased to see it on him. The memory of her joy and desire was all he had and he was shredding the gift she had given him. Weeping, he crawled onto their bed and prayed fervently that she would not leave, he prayed to Hevtos to bind her here and he murmured a supplication to Rielle, the elven goddess of love and desire to make her love him. Eludora would not be willing to listen with the stone that had been stolen but Rielle might. She had been kind to his family before.

Vezar wasn’t certain how long it had been before the knocking came again. He rose and pulled on a plain robe before following the spectre to the threshold. Syreilla thrust the stone at him with barely a word.

Giving it to Hevtos, he took a step toward his chamber once more before stopping abruptly. “Divinity, if she only required the stone to be given, why did she not bring it herself?”

“There is more happening than you understand.” Hevtos studied his face. “Come with me.”

They placed the stone in safety with the others and the divinity took him into a chamber he had not seen. The room held an immense map table that seemed to shimmer.

“I know where mine are…” Hevtos held his hand over the table and the map moved.

There were glimmering towns and cities, roads that were dotted with light, and one bright point alone in a dark spot.

“Dwarf mines are shrouded from me, they are dark.”

“And that…” Vezar came to stare at the bright point of light. 

For the briefest of moments the threads between them were visible and he nearly reached out to touch the place Syreilla was. His hand was stopped and the divinity smiled faintly.

“She will return and be joyful to see you. I mistakenly believed that you would be less upset if you believed she was outside the mine.”

“Yes, Divinity.” The realization he’d torn the robe she enjoyed seeing him in and he had nothing else to delight her struck him. “I need to find a new robe, Divinity. In my anguish…” 

“I will let you go to find one, but not yet. Wait to be sent.” 

It was a relief to know she hadn’t rejected him, but he still wasn’t pleased that she was lingering in the mine. He bowed and left the chamber going back to his own to prepare. The threads were intact, he'd seen them… If it wasn’t Syreilla he’d embraced… Odos. The trickster gods were known to deceive and wear the faces of others at times, he had been sent for to make it seem as if it were the Golden Rook. She was hiding while her father did the thieving. 

He frowned as he pulled on the hood and commoner’s clothes that would help conceal his nature. She couldn’t have been pleased with that. When he’d had his hands in her threads he’d seen how much she loved the challenge of such tasks. To steal three stones in a few short days, she would have been exultant, not cold.

Impatiently, he waited for a visit from a spectral servant. Spinning on his heel to hurry to the door as it opened. 

“The divinity asks you to go to his Golden Rook at the mine. It must be done quickly. Afterward you may see to your errand.”

The thought of seeing her this way was a blow to his pride. He considered making her wait for a short time while he found something suitable but the divinity had said he must be quick.

“I will go.”

There was only trepidation as he opened the doorway and stepped through. He was standing in the center of a small camp hidden in trees and looked around with a frown. The mine was where he’d intended to go.

“That was a cruel trick Syreilla.” A half-elf was glowering as he stalked into view, “And who is this? You’ve picked the wrong camp to rob-”

“Vezar!” Syreilla’s relieved voice washed over him like warm water and he felt delight rippling along the threads no longer pressed. “I have something for you.” She came up to him beaming and put her arms around him, rising on her toes for a kiss. 

It was all he could do not to tear the fabric of her clothes as he returned it needfully and pulled her tightly against him. She stank of dwarf. “My sweet Syreilla, you need to bathe.” He tried to tell himself she’d been in a mine that was why she stank, not that she’d been embracing… Dipping his head he drew a deep breath against her skin to be sure and she laughed, kissing his neck.

“Kaduil Hardjaw misses his wife, I’m not her. I missed my dragon.”

With a groan he pulled her through the doorway bodily. “I need my treasure beneath me. I need to know that no dwarf has had his hands on your perfect skin my golden-”

“I will ask Odos if the time can be taken,” Hevtos sounded amused.

“I doubt it, Uncle. He was up to something while I was in the mine. The Magpie is furious with me and my cousin, Cyran, will barely look at me.”

“He wore your face and he was not kind to Vezar while he did.”

“Ah.” Her face set grimly, “It seems he wasn’t kind to anyone. I’ll speak to the old man.”

Syreilla removed a carved box from her pouch, “I was told that what I asked for was in there, and I can feel something is, but…” 

“But you have doubts?”

“I do. I walked the treasure rooms with Sirruil and a dwarf named Orefinder, helping them find more ways to make it secure. I liked him, but I’d trust a knife made out of elf bread before I accepted what he said without question.”

Hevtos began to laugh holding the box in both hands. “You are right, my Golden Rook. Within are three stones holding power but not the ones you were told you were taking. They are a promise, if the true stones are needed they will be given. Until then, these are a small gift of power to aid me.”

“Who is Sirruil?” Vezar ran his hand down her back and was rewarded with a sad smile.

“Hammersworn’s youngest. Oduil Flameborn, her eldest, looks like a slimmer version of his father with just a little bit of point to his ears. He’s got a disposition like Batran’s, he’s clever, serious and does fine work. Kyrilla, her daughter, is as golden as she was, a dwarvish beauty with her father’s sweet disposition.” She paused, wrapping her arms around his waist, “But Sirruil, he’s like her, he’s mischievous and hot tempered.” Laughing, she added, “He looks exactly like Kaduil. She used to tell her husband dwarvish good looks were the only thing he inherited from his father.”

“This Oduil isn’t a Hammersworn?” Vezar gazed down at her feeling her desire for children of their own.

“He’s of Clan Hammersworn. At a certain age, the boys go through a ritual and become men. They receive a name other than what their mothers’ gave them. Sirruil will go through his soon.” Her shoulders slumped, “I’m not permitted to be there for it.”

“They belong to the dwarf gods, my Golden Rook.” Hevtos smiled faintly. “They guard their rituals and knowledge more closely.”

“I know. I understand. It still makes me sad, Uncle.”

The door opened and Odos stepped through with a mischievous smile, “I need my rook. I’ve arranged a meeting with an old friend. He’ll help us with the elves.”

“I’m angry with you, old man. Magpie and Cyran are upset with me-”

Odos waved his hand, his smile widening. “I’ll speak to them.”

“I’ll speak to them. You apologize to Vezar.” Disentangling herself, she stole a kiss before she slipped through the door.

He looked pleased with himself as he straightened his tunic, “Did she succeed with the dwarves?”

“She met Orefinder and knew that the stones she was given weren’t the true stones. My Golden Rook said that she liked him but that she would trust a knife made of elf bread-” Hevtos stopped with a smile as his nephew broke into delighted laughter. 

“She is my daughter.”

“They are a promise and a gift. It is enough.”

“Good. I knew she could get at least that from them. She may be less angry with me when she hears how her reputation has grown.”

“Syreilla lives for the challenge, Divinity.” Vezar frowned and might have said more but the mischievous god laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll let her steal the elven stones. She’s a good thief, but I’m better and this needed to be done quickly and quietly. I hope you can forgive me for not kissing you.”

“I love her, Divinity. I thought she had stopped…” 

Odos winced. “If anyone sees through the ruse it will because of that.”

He stepped back and vanished.

“Are you more content?” Hevtos gestured toward the entrance.

“I am, Divinity, but I still want to find a new robe, and perhaps a gift for my treasure.”

“You may go to find them, son of my son. Do not linger. She may require you soon.”