Chapter Six: Departure
Tylia didn't have to turn around to imagine the group—or, more accurately, groups—that were approaching her. She wondered what they would think of her appearance today, especially Eileen, who had known her longest. It was the last day of term and she would be leaving in just under forty-eight hours.
She was standing tall, her back to Hogwarts, looking out over the Black Lake. Korthus perched on her left shoulder and her right hand gently traced a dark, silvery marking on Petrius' shoulder. Instead of her usual loose, half-sleeved silver shirt and wide-legged breeches, she was wearing a tight, long-sleeved black shirt laced with dark red vines that made up Pasaelael runes and her pants were tight as well, made of a soft black fabric that looked as though it would vanish into the shadows if given the chance. Thick, sturdy boots of supple black leather were on her feet—for the first time in three years—and a bracelet of ebony and ruby spiders adorned her right wrist.
The four people approaching her—so said Korthus, who was giving her a running commentary in soft bird-sounds—had come out of the Entrance Hall at the same time. From their grouping as the doors opened, they had all arrived separately. As soon as they had come out, they had separated: Raoul and Eileen walking a little apart from Pyra and Scorpius. Tylia smiled when Korthus informed her that all were dressed casually; that was good.
She suppressed a laugh when she heard Eileen stop short once she was close enough to realize how the Orondralas was dressed. Raoul froze a moment later, when he noticed her rigid stance. Scorpius and Pyra came closest before realizing that something was wrong.
"Since when did you wear shoes?" demanded Tylia's oldest friend at Hogwarts. Eileen had never seen Tylia with anything on her feet, not even socks, not even on the coldest days of the year.
"And stand like that?" Raoul added uneasily. "You're so stiff."
"Where did you get that bracelet?" Scorpius asked. His voice sounded shaky and Korthus informed Tylia as one hand slid into the pocket of his jacket, as though reflexively assuring himself that something was still there.
Pyra, the latest addition to Tylia's group of friends, said nothing. Once she was certain that they were finished for a moment, Tylia finally turned to face them. Pyra flinched slightly when she saw the jagged, blood red symbol on the left shoulder of Tylia's shirt; it was the symbol of House Zauval.
"Since I was told I was going to visit my relatives; same answer to you, Raoul; I got the bracelet from my Uncle, Vlosorbb; to you, Pyra, the symbol is that of my mother's Pasaelael House, her family." Tylia answered each question, looking at each person in turn.
"And what has that got to do with us?" Pyra inquired mildly, ignoring the fact that Tylia had answered a question she hadn't even asked.
"Everything, Pyra," Tylia replied, smiling at last. Petrius rose and circled the group of two-leggers, his scarlet eyes raking each in turn. "My parents have informed me that I am to spend the two splendid weeks of Winter Break with my family, one week with each culture."
"So?" Eileen snapped, still off-put by her friend's dramatic and abrupt change.
"So," Tylia continued, giving Eileen a cheery smile that showed just a bit too much teeth. "I have been given permission to bring up to four human friends with me. You four were my immediate choices."
You're pushing your veldrin wund1 a bit, aren't you? Petrius inquired as her friends stood, considering. They are your friends, after all.
They'll see worse in the Underdark. This is nothing compared to that. They would have learned of my madyrdorol2 eventually, anyway. Why not now?
"I thought that Aelaer didn't like humans," Scorpius ventured finally, his hand still clenched in his jacket pocket.
"They don't, as a rule," Tylia replied with another toothy grin, ignoring the further glare that Petrius shot her way. "But I have…connections in both cultures."
"I'd like to go," Raoul ventured, but he was shaking his head. "But Mum and Dad would kill me if I skipped out on Christmas. Even for such an opportunity."
"It's alright, Raoul," Tylia replied, giving the large Ravenclaw an almost pitying look. She kissed him on the cheek and Scorpius flinched slightly; only Pyra noticed.
"I don't think that Father—" Pyra began, but Scorpius cut her off.
"I'm going." He glared at his sister, full of incredulity and spite. "Since when did you give a damn what the Malfoys thought? Especially that jackass who calls himself our father?"
Pyra shrugged; her brother was right. She had only been trying to keep these two away from each other…it had been a poor excuse, though. Also, even Pyra had to admit that she was looking forward to exploring a pair of magical cultures from which humans had been banned for millennia.
"True enough," she replied, avoiding the look her brother was giving her—it was the first time she had ever seen overt animosity in his gaze, at least when it was directed at her. But she wouldn't blame this—what had Scorpius told her that Albus Potter had called Tylia?—'Elfling' for her brother's recent behavior. Love made people do stupid things, but Tylia had not asked for Scorpius to fall in love with her. It wasn't as if the halfbreed were an overt flirt or anything.
"Me three," Eileen added. "I'm going to keep an eye on you."
She added this last with a glare in Tylia's direction. The Orondralas merely bowed mockingly to her and waved her hand dismissively at Raoul, who left, looking a little hurt.
I'll apologize to him before we leave.
Of course you will. Petrius agreed out of habit, but he was worried about Tylia. Every time she went to visit her Jhondraelael family, she became more like a Pasaer. Granted, the reverse was true, but not to nearly such an extreme.
"We leave Sunday morning for Si Kesol Thysaer," Tylia informed her three friends. "The Guarding Forest is cool this time of year, but you'll have no need of cloaks. Going barefoot is the norm, but they'll not mind you wearing shoes."
There was only the slightest bit of condescension in her voice as she looked them over.
"And you?" Eileen demanded, pointed scathingly to the thick boots on Tylia's own feet.
"Me? I can do anything I please," Tylia replied with a much more feral grin that she had shown before. "But I'll answer your question more properly: my wearing boots will really…ruffle some feathers."
"What about where ever it is that your Pasaelael family lives?" Scorpius called as Tylia began to walk away around the lake. Korthus launched off of Tylia's shoulder as the halfbreed turned around.
"You'll be properly outfitted for that place once we arrive there," Tylia replied with another grin. "Nothing humans make is appropriate for the Underdark. That's what it's called, by the way."
"Underdark," she heard Eileen mutter. "I don't think I like the sound of that."
"Oh, I know you don't." The Orondralas tossed the comment back to her human friend, a large measure of contempt and derisive pleasure in her voice.
All the arrangements had been made. The transportation would be here soon and everyone knew where to be and what to do. It was dawn, the eastern sky just beginning to flush pink with the coming of the day.
Tylia herself was perched in a nearby tree, dressed in the same manner as two days before: heavy boots, tight clothes, all in black. A black cloak had joined her other clothes, deep red runes embroidered on it but barely visible. The same bracelet was on her right wrist, but a new ornament was present. Today, she wore a black satin choker embroidered with silver spiders. On the spiders' abdomens, in blood red, was the symbol of House Zauval.
From where she was, it would look like none but Petrius waited for her friends.
This trickery is beneath you, Tylandraes, Petrius snarled into her mind as he paced beneath her perch. He, too, was becoming more like a traditional pa'das as Tylia changed to be more like a Pasaer, more hateful, more snappish, less…him.
He was hiding something, Tylia replied soothingly. He was startled, frightened, even. He wouldn't tell me for the asking, I know.
What if he doesn't bring it? Petrius demanded, glancing up at her. What if he doesn't come alone?
He will, to both.
How do you know? The big cat demanded.
The first is instinct, Tylia admitted. The second is certain. His sister makes him nervous, angry, even. Eileen he does not know.
You only run on instinct when you give into your veldrin wund!
Shush, he's coming.
Scorpius was well dressed. Like her, he was dressed primarily in black: black leather jacket over a soft silver shirt and black jeans; black shoes of some Muggle brand—not bought by his father, Tylia was sure—were on his feet. His skin nearly glowed against the black of his clothes, and a black bag was over one shoulder. It struck Tylia for the first time how handsome the young man was. She very quickly shoved that thought into the back of her mind as he came closer.
Petrius—
I'm leaving, growled the pa'das, vanishing instantly into the pre-dawn shadows. He knew that Tylia didn't think that Scorpius would reveal his secret in front of her most obvious spy.
Thank you. Her mind-whisper was lost to the darkness.
Scorpius stopped below her tree and glanced around, then dropped his bag and sat on the bare, dry earth underneath. He put his hand into his jacket pocket and Tylia caught her breath, her heart pounding suddenly for a reason she couldn't name. He withdrew something that sparkled in the early morning light.
"Where did you come from, Streeas Iglata3?" Tylia noted that, though Myrdyl did not teach the Obok Sekevlos Telanth4 in his class, Scorpius pronounced the Pasaelael word perfectly. But how had a human come across Death's Promise? "You are so precious, my one true defender in a world still mad over the Blood Wars, but I am afraid that I will lose you, to one or the other of Tylandraes' families."
"And why would my families be interested in anything of yours?"
Tylandraes dropped silently through the branches as she spoke, landing with a soft phomp in the dry earth next to Scorpius. He leapt to his feet and Tylia heard the distinct hiss of a drawn blade.
The Orondralas rose to her 'ready' stance; not threatening, but ready to be so. She studied him, noting the slight misbalance in his stance as well as the perfect reverse grip with which he handled the slightly curved dagger in his left hand. Something—the scabbard, Tylia presumed—glittered in his right.
Although she could see him well, she knew that Scorpius wouldn't be able to see her very well at all. She grinned toothily.
"Tylandraes?" The name was a question, hesitant, scared, almost. Scorpius took several steps back, off of the dirt and away from the tree, then resumed his stance.
Without a sound, Tylia's leg swung down and out and caught Scorpius just where his slightly unbalanced stance would cause him the most trouble. He went sprawling and dagger as well as scabbard flew into the air. Tylia caught both easily and went back to the tree, leaning against it nonchalantly as Scorpius scrabbled to regain his feet.
"Well, well, well," Tylia murmured, her eyes on Scorpius as he approached, rather than on the dagger she was resheathing. "Where did you get such a pretty thing?"
The scabbard was ebony, inlaid with silver spiders that had ruby symbols in the abdomen, not unlike Tylia's choker. The hilt was silver, etched with spiders and inlaid with the same crimson symbols.
"I-I found her," Scorpius replied. He did not now feel the hesitance he usually did when Pyra was prying into his life. For some reason, he felt that Tylia deserved to know, though he wouldn't have told her if she hadn't asked. Streeas Iglata was his best-kept secret. "In the garden at Malfoy Manor. In my garden. Under the roses. She was very dirty, but I cleaned her up. No one else knows that I have her."
"'Her?' 'She?'" Tylia inquired, dropping her eyes to the dagger in her hands for the first time. The crimson symbols alternated between facing spiders; one for the blade's name, the other for a long-exterminated line of Pasaelaer. That House was said to once have been the greatest of the Ruling Houses, favored by Jhyr herself and very powerful. But they fell from Jhyr's grace and were exterminated by her driders5.
"Yes." He was more confident around Tylia than around any one else, even this Tylia. Even he had to admit that she didn't seem like the same person he had spoken to in the library. "She seems…feminine."
"Has anyone ever told you that you have an instinct for cultures?" Tylia inquired, the barest hint of admiration in her voice. Scorpius shook his head and resisted the urge to step back as Tylia flipped Death's Promise from her sheath and into a perfect reverse grip, the point directed toward Scorpius. "See the curve of the blade? It means that the blade is female. A male blade is straight—you don't see them very often in Pasaelael culture. If you do see someone carrying a straight blade in the Underdark, avoid them. They're usually trouble. Jhondraelaer say that the Pasaelaer show love more readily to their blades than their mates."
Tylia laughed and shook her head, but it was an unpleasant laugh. The Jhondraelaer were right.
"Her name is 'Death's Promise.' And you were right. Both of my families would love to get her back. Among my mother's people, she is a legend, the lost dagger of their chief goddess. To my father's folk, she's a threat, a rallying point for the increasingly fractured factions of my mother's relatives."
She resheathed the dagger and handed her back to Scorpius, who looked at the scabbard and hilt with a dawning wonder.
"She's a legend?" he asked, looking back up at a highly amused Tylia.
"Oh, yes," Tylia replied with a little laugh, just as unpleasant as the last. "And any Aer6 finding her on your person will take her from you."
"I can't let that happen," Scorpius murmured, looking down on the old blade with reverence in his eyes and voice. He was holding Streeas Iglata by the hilt. "I'm…fond of her."
In a movement so fast that Scorpius would have seen a blur at best, Tylia drew the dagger, struck Scorpius across the face and replaced her before the pureblood could move.
"What the—" Scorpius' hand flew to his face, but there was no wound.
"I struck you with the sharp of her blade," Tylia commented slowly. A red weal was forming there from the strength of the strike, but the dagger had not cut him. She passed her hand over the weal, muttering a healing spell that Headmistress McGonnagal had taught her to perform wandlessly a year ago. Tylia knew that certain weapons—including Death's Promise—chose their owners, not the other way around. "She did not harm you. She intends to be yours, and I intend to help you keep her."
"How?"
"Give her to me when my relatives arrive," Tylia shrugged easily. "They will search everyone for weapons, but they'll let me retain mine. I'll give her back when we get safely into Si Kesol Thysaer."
"I…of course." Scorpius didn't look particularly pleased. "Any thing else would get her taken from me, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would. And one more thing," Tylia added as Scorpius began to turn away. She could see Pyra heading towards them. "Your stance was off; that's how I knocked you down so easily. Let me help you fix it."
Remembering with a slight flush how easily she had gotten him on the ground, Scorpius obligingly assumed his fighter's stance.
"See? It's too wide," Tylia pointed out, bringing his left leg in a little. "It'll feel odd for a while, but hold it long enough, often enough and it will seem natural."
"Thank you." This seemed more like the Tylia he had met in the Library. Then the kind light in her eyes vanished at the same time that he felt Pyra come up behind him, replaced by that toothy, feral grin.
"Not at all," she scoffed, her deep green eyes flashing between brother and sister. "I'm just making sure that one of my favorite males doesn't get himself dumped into a lava pit in the Underdark."
"Morning, Tylia," Pyra commented easily, as though she hadn't heard the condescension in the halfbreed's voice.
"Morning, Pyra," Tylia replied, a half-veiled note of rivalry in her voice. "You look well today."
Pyra was dressed as well as her brother and much alike: black jacket, pants and shoes, but a pale blue silk shirt. Her bag was black with pale blue embroidery. She did look good.
"Thanks."
The sun was well above the horizon now, and light was spilling greedily across the grounds to strike the windows of Hogwarts Castle into leaping flame. Eileen came running across to the others just as Tylia caught the sound of rushing wings.
"Sorry." Eileen panted breathlessly. "Woke up late."
"Of course." The chill in Tylia's voice was enough to make Eileen jerk back as though slapped. She was in a soft green dress and—Tylia grinned when she noticed it—she was barefoot. A matching green bag was slung over one shoulder.
"What's that? That noise?" Pyra asked quietly, dusting off her brother's jacket where it had bits of grass on it from his 'fall.' "It sounds like…birds."
The sound of beating wings grew louder and then just stopped suddenly. Two slender branches of the tree came down to form an arch against the ground. A split second before a blinding golden light erupted from the arch Tylia sighed, reached through and yanked Eileen away from the trunk. The three humans covered their eyes to shield themselves from the light. A moment later, the light was gone—though the archway remained—and three figures stood before it."
"Greetings to you, emissaries of Their Majesties," Tylia said, bowing to the three. Scorpius, ever quick to understand, also bowed. Pyra merely looked the newcomers up and down, sizing them up. Eileen stood silent, shocked by the sudden appearance of three Jhondraelaer on the Hogwarts Grounds.
The three looked and dressed so alike that they could have been triplets. They were dressed in what Tylia knew to be the uniform of the Royal Guard: dark grey long-sleeved tunics, breeches of the same color, fine, thin longbows displayed proudly on their backs, as well as silver-inlaid quivers with fifteen silver-fletched arrows apiece and silvery crescent-moon clasps for their cloaks. Two of the three were male. The third stepped forward with a smile for the humans.
" Kaerol sai o shai shor shi si thos bororys sai Si Kesol Thysaer ail talia tolaelai," she began, meeting the eyes of each of the humans in turn. "Ai eis—7"
"Maerosi." Tylia interrupted her friend idly, though the two males glared at her. "You'll do well to use the Common Speech when addressing my allies. Not all of them take Father's class."
As she spoke, Tylia stepped in front of Scorpius so that no one could see the space between her back and his front, her hand open behind her. Understanding instantly, Scorpius quickly placed Streeas Iglata there. Tylia hid the blade deftly.
"Of course," Maerosi agreed with an apologetic smile, switching to English, in which she had a smooth, lisping accent not unlike Myrdyl's. "Forgive me, please. Thol8, my name is Maerosi, that is Seafire in your tongue. I am one of Their Majesties' Personal Guard, as are my companions, Jhondraes, that is Lightheart and Colaern, that is Kilnveiw. We are here to be your guide through the portal and to be your guides in the Forest."
"And to search those that I call allies," Tylia added viciously.
"Yes. We are sorry for that," Colaern replied, looking a bit guilty. "But those are our orders. We do not believe that you would wish our royalty or our people any ill will, but we must be certain."
"Search away," Tylia scoffed. "They have nothing to hide."
"Implying that you do, pandraesyrolaes 9?" snapped Jhondraes, open resentment in his eyes. Korthus and Petrius materialized out of nowhere, each voicing their resentment at his tone and words in their own way. All three Jhondraelaer jumped.
"Jhondraes!" Maerosi snapped, flushing at the accusation in the Aer's voice.
"Silence." Tylia's voice was soft and deadly. Everyone listened at once. Her eyes were fixed on Jhondraes', which were a few shades lighter than her own. "You had bettered be glad that I am also the daughter of your great-uncle, cousin. If I were solely the daughter of my mother's people, I would kill you where you stand. I had heard that you lost a sister—Thaeraecaes, wasn't she called?—to the Trantzvlos. I had not heard that you lost all manners and courtesy at the same time. No member of House Zauval has ever been counted among the Trantzvlos. Learn to hold your tongue!"
Jhondraes was blushing deeply by the time Tylia turned away to pat Petrius.
It is good to know that your veldrin wund does not control you completely.
Nothing controls me completely, Tylia replied easily, though there was a hint of steel under her thoughts. Ever.
"Shall we get on with it then?" Scorpius inquired quietly. Maerosi nodded and the three humans were frisked. Colaern made to frisk Tylia, but she stared him down. When he stepped back, she gave him a sickly-sweet smile.
Without looking away from him, Tylia removed four daggers from various places and flicked her cloak back to reveal a thin black-handled sword in an ebony sheath. Decorated in silvery runes, the sheath was perfectly straight. Scorpius glanced between the straight blade and Tylia's carefully blank face. He also noted that Streeas Iglata didn't make an appearance.
Maerosi nodded, satisfied with her friend's display, though Jhondraes and Colaern both eyed the straight-bladed sword with suspicion. Tylia replaced all of her daggers—all slightly curved—without letting anyone see where they went.
"Can we go now?" Tylia demanded, twitching her cloak back into place over her sword. For the barest moment, Tylia amused herself thinking about the fact that her cousin and his friend were worried about her straight-bladed sword. In truth, they should have welcomed it; the Serdyr were well known for using deeply curved blades.
"Is Jhys10 Sholel not to attend?" Colaern inquired, only the second thing he had said since stepping through the portal.
"No, he's staying here," Tylia replied, and saw Colaern's face fall. She smirked. "He's busy over the break."
He doesn't like seeing you like this, you mean, Petrius corrected as Korthus settled onto Tylia's shoulder.
Mother understands why I do this, Tylia replied as the rushing of wings could be heard again. The golden light blazed once more and Tylia pressed Streeas Iglata's cool form into one of Scorpius hands. And Uncle. And Grandfather.
The blaze of the portal spell dimmed a moment later. Streeas Iglata was safely put away. Jhondraes and Colaern had already vanished into the soft, rippling golden light.
"Into the light, Thol," Maerosi said, smiling to the humans as she entered the portal. All three glanced uncertainly at Tylia, who rolled her eyes.
"Korthus, demonstrate." Tylia's voice was full of exasperation at her friends, but she did not order the sholol; Korthus would not have obeyed.
As it was, the hawk swooped off of her shoulder and into the light. After a moment, she came back with a rapid flow of information for Tylia's ears only. She smirked again.
Korthus, go with Scorpius. Again, there was no sense of an order in her voice, only amusement now. Korthus lighted on Scorpius' shoulder, who jumped almost imperceptibly. Petrius, attend the ladies. Let Their Majesties see how much of my favor goes forth with these cestal.
Petrius moved to stand between Eileen and Pyra. Scorpius glanced back at Tylia. She gave him a short-lived smile and he nodded. Korthus was murmuring in his ear, something she often did for Tylia when the halfbreed was nervous.
Without looking back again, Scorpius stepped through the portal. Pyra quickly followed, then Petrius and Eileen. Tylia glanced up at the castle and gave a shrill whistle. Another whistle—her father's acknowledgement of her departure—answered, and she stepped into that golden light.
1Literally 'shadows within;' the same as the following note, except that this is the Pasaelael translation of the phrase. A true Pasaelael would never say this phrase, because any good Dark Elf knows that all beings are darkness, they do not merely contain it.
2Literally 'shadows within;' the Light Elven phrase for the darknesses, the evil tendencies, that all sentient beings must contend with
3Death's Promise; the name of a Pasaelael knife that has fallen into legend. she is said to have been the dagger of Jhyr herself, though this has never been proven. Many of Jhyr's most loyal followers make it their life's work to recover this blade, hoping to win the Spider Queen's favor for the rest of time.
4Literally 'High True Blood Talk;' the softest, most pleasant of the Pasaelael tongues, used most commonly in the present day by scholars and slavers. Thought to be the original Dark Elven language.
5Driders are half-Pasaer, half enormous spider. Like a centaur, only spider instead of horse. Extremely unpleasant and they are created, not bred. It is said that only the gods themselves have the ability to make such freaks of nature, though a few mad mages have attempted it with little effect. Rumor of young driders are as yet unfounded, and disturb the Pasaelaer more than they would ever admit. They will pay a handsome amount to anyone who can prove (or utterly disprove) the rumors.
6Elf of any of the Higher Families. Higher Families are those with descriptors: High Elves, Light Elves, Dark Elves, Wood Elves, Sea Elves, etc. Those Elves not of the Higher Families are simply called Elves in the human tongues, though they are called something else in the Elven tongues. They are often barbaric creatures, wholly given over to wildness and nature.
7Here Maerosi says: 'Greetings to you who will be the first visitors to The Guarding Forest in many millennia. I am—'
8Literally 'friends' or 'friend;' an honorary title given to any strange guests in the Forest.
9Literally 'daughter of killers;' one of the many rude terms that have been applied to Tylia by the Jhondraelaer.
10Lord