The Tears of Kas̆dael

"What were you thinking?" Aphora scowled as Imḫullu whirled on her with a reproachful look.

His anger wasn't unexpected. While on the surface, Ivan and Anna had bantered like old friends, she could tell there was an underlying tension between them, a tension that always circled back to the topic of Uzzîl, or Erik as Anna preferred to call him.

There was an edge hidden beneath Anna's friendly persona, and while Aphora wasn't certain if the Sidhe would have hurt her if Imḫ͗ullu hadn't returned when he did, she was pretty sure the pretty blonde had at least considered it.

She knew Ivan was just worried about her, but the worry only irked her. She might not be as powerful as he, but she wasn't some helpless child that needed to be coddled, nor was she willing to take the blame for stumbling on the other Sidhe by accident. "I didn't know she would be here," she snapped back. "I came to see you because you haven't been responding to my messages, and what do I find here? Another woman," she continued, going on the offensive.

"Another woman? Anna?" He stared at her incredulously. "You can't honestly tell me you're jealous of her? She doesn't even like guys - hell, she probably made a pass at you."

She had, in fact, but Aphora wasn't going to offer up that tidbit. "If you'd just answered, I wouldn't have had to come."

"Well, forgive me for doing my best to save your daughter's life," he replied sarcastically. "Next time, I'll make sure to put your letters at the top of the priority list, and fighting dragons second."

She blinked as Imḫullu mentioned Tsia's predicament again, and the fight went out of her. "Is she okay?"

"I think so, but I can't be sure. That group of theirs is just like you," he said with a sigh, sinking into a comfy armchair that sat beside the strange, virtual map they'd spent so many hours pouring over. "Every time I encounter them, they seem intent on picking a fight with someone out of their league."

She frowned at the backhanded compliment, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't take it that way. That fierceness is part of what drew me to you. I've just got to make sure it doesn't kill you," he said as he reached out and pulled her onto his lap, pressing a kiss against her head. "But, please," his voice softened, "don't come here without letting me know first. Anna is not the only Sidhe that visits, and if I'm not around, I can't ensure your safety."

"I might be willing to agree to that if you promise not to ignore my letters," Aphora countered.

"Oh, for God's sake, I wasn't ignoring your messages. I just…"

He paused as Aphora placed a finger over his lips. "I know there's been some space between us lately, and I'm probably to blame for that." She didn't need to expound on the issue lying between them; they both knew she was referring to her freakout over Ivan's original plan to attack Uzzîl.

"In the past, I would have just cut my losses and moved on," she admitted. "I've never been any good at getting close to people, and I'd bolt at the first sign of an issue, but after what happened at Hargish…I'm trying to change, but that takes two. So if you promise not to shut me out when you're upset, I'll do my best to not get myself killed pointlessly. Deal?" she offered.

Ivan hesitated, but eventually nodded his head. "Deal."

They spent the next few hours hashing out the final details of their plan of attack. The most pressing matter was figuring out the logistics of moving that many people. She had nearly six hundred volunteers from her own people, a mixture of elves and Fey, and if their rescue attempt was successful, there would be several thousand more on the return trip.

In theory, she could construct a portal of that size, but it was larger than anything she'd actually attempted, and the ingredients were too rare and expensive to waste on tests. Still, she agreed to try, as Imḫullu needed to reserve his strength to fight Uzzîl, and neither trusted Anna enough to give her power over the portal. But she'd be lying if she tried to say she wasn't worried.

The other wrinkle was Uzzîl himself. The Sidhe had barely been seen in generations. Rare reports of him suggested he was in poor condition, succumbing to the rot of the mind that sometimes heralds old age and a weakening of his body, but Ivan was skeptical of their accuracy. "Erik was one of the strongest amongst us and a real bruiser in battle, so most people thought he was a stupid barbarian, but he was actually surprisingly clever," he warned her. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was the source of these rumors, though if he is, I'm not sure what his game is."

"Is it wise to attack him then?" she asked, suddenly worried they might be falling for a trap.

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"I said he was 'one of the strongest amongst us,' not the strongest. I'm confident I can take him…it's Anna I'm concerned about."

"Surely she's not stronger than you?"

Ivan snorted. "Not even close, but if she's being honest about her motives, she strong-armed her way onto the team because she believes the rumors about Uzzîl's mind are true. If they are, I don't think we'll have anything to worry about; she'll see it as a kindness to put him down. But if the rumors are some kind of con…"

"Then she might turn on us," Aphora finished the thought for him.

"Exactly. I could properly smack her down in five minutes, but if I'm dealing with a full-strength Uzzîl at the same time…" he sighed, running a hand through his golden locks. "I can probably beat them both, but it's a fight I'd rather avoid…not that we have the chance. I don't know how she caught wind of our plans - maybe she saw us when we scouted out his settlement - but if we refuse to let her help, she could spill the beans to everyone. We'll just have to hope that Uzzîl really is in his dotage."

"And if he isn't?"

A slow grin spread across Ivan's face as he mulled the question over. "Well, then we might just need to prepare a surprise of our own."

Two weeks later, Aphora found herself sitting on top of a windswept bluff. Sadly, there was no wind today, nothing but a scorching sun hot enough to make her skin feel like it would melt off as she concentrated on keeping the portal open. "How many more?" she gritted out to Ivan, who stood beside her.

"Another hundred?" He guessed.

"You know, I could lend a hand," a honeyed voice cut in from behind.

Ivan replied for her. "Ah, I'm sure you could, but Aphora's a bit of a control freak, likes things done just so," he replied smugly, knowing she was too tired to respond.

Vague thoughts of vengeance flitted through her mind, but even those were washed away as she was forced to concentrate on continuing to allow the foreign energy to channel through her body and into the unstable arch her people were streaming through. She heard footsteps walk away, and the unbearable heat of the sun diminished as a tender hand brushed against her shoulder, bringing drops of cool rain despite the wide open skies.

"Just a little bit longer," Ivan encouraged her. Lowering his voice, he continued. "Anna should follow me to Uzzîl's manor; hang back, and once she's out of sight, take the potion I gave you. I hope we won't need it, but better safe than sorry."

"I should…wait…to see…if she attacks," she gritted out, struggling to talk while holding her concentration, but Ivan rejected the idea immediately.

"No, take the potion as soon as you can. I'd rather waste the money than lose you if she does decide to turn on us."

She wanted to argue further, uncomfortable with accepting what was essentially a priceless gift, but it wasn't the first time they'd had this debate, and Ivan had resolutely refused to budge. "Fine."

"Last group," he told her, as he stood up to direct the band of elves walking out of the swirling amber."

Two minutes later, the portal collapsed in on itself as she cut off the connection. Opening her eyes, she struggled to her feet, still woozy from the effort of sustaining the channeling for that long, and limped over to take her place beside Ivan.

The six hundred elves and Fey had been split up into twelve bands, each with their own objective in the settlement of Dūr-Adû. Only two of them had been designated to join the fighting, composed of nothing but her strongest fighters and led by Mullu-Limmu and Tōrîn respectively. The others would aid with the rescue mission instead, their sole focus on freeing the captive elves as they could and ferrying them back to the ritual circle.

And then there was her. Ivan had wanted her to remain with the ritual circle. Strategically, she had to admit there was a certain logic to his wish, as it was their ticket back to safety, but she knew his plans were not based on pure strategy, but on a desire to protect her. Unfortunately for his plans, she was equally determined to protect him.

She waited until the bands had shuffled down the hillside, till Ivan and Anna had disappeared into the haze of heat before she called out. "Alright, you can drop the shroud now."

The air beside her shimmered as a green-skinned woman pulled a delicate veil off her body. "You sure about this?"

Aphora shook the bag in which she held her lots. "The eṭekku never lie. I do not know what Anna is plotting, but she is not a friend. Ivan will need my help."

Tesha clicked her tongue, but didn't try to dissuade her. "I'll watch the portal then."

"Here, you'll need this," Aphora tried to hand over the potion, but the Fey leader pushed it back in her hands.

"If you insist on following them, the least you can do is take his bloody potion. Don't worry about me - I brought back-up," she added, jerking her head toward the space behind her where a dozen veiled warriors waited silently. "If anyone comes, we'll take them by surprise."

Feeling a bit guilty about ignoring Ivan's desires, Aphora didn't argue too hard about the potion. Accepting the vial back, she pulled the plug out and blinked back tears as the smell hit her - a scent so heavenly, so intoxicatingly beautiful that she wanted to weep.

Tesha was weaker than her, fat tears trailing down her jade skin, as Aphora tipped the bottle back and drank the blood of a god.

She staggered as the potion took effect, as her essence doubled, tripled, quadrupled, swelled beyond any measure she could possibly track. It burned within her, more power than her mortal body could ever contain, blackening the ground at her feet until it reached an equilibrium. Is this how Ivan always feels? It was a humbling thought, one that almost made her second-guess her decision to follow the pair of Sidhe, but Aphora was not a coward.

The eṭekku warned that Anna was up to no good, and she was not willing to let him walk into the lion's den alone. Ivan had insisted he could deal with him both if need be, but Aphora knew a little something about being too confident in one's own strength; she wouldn't let him make the mistake she had.

Squaring her shoulders, she tossed the remnants of the potion to the still weeping Fey, who, with complete abandonment of dignity, licked at its remains and headed down the hill toward Dūr-Adû.