Chapter 15 – Through the Gates of Myzelemaerlazin

“If you don’t take your arm off me right now,” she hissed quietly enough so as not to wake the sleeping women around her, “you won’t have it for much longer.”

Benderast froze. “I just thought-”

“You thought? Is that so?” Shaelith turned her head just enough to give him a withering look. Her lavender eyes shimmered dangerously in the dim firelight. “I doubt it. What were you thinking? That it was a good idea to get it on with me in between a dozen traumatized women who have just been rescued from a goblin breeding kennel?”

His arm recoiled as if he had burned himself. “I didn’t… I mean, I haven’t thought-”

“That sounds more likely.” She turned away from him demonstratively. “I want to sleep now.”

He slid back a little, but not far enough for her liking.

“Probably tsundere,” she heard him muttering.

Asshole. I’ll be glad to be home. Then he’ll get a sack of gold and can piss right off.

Angry, she closed her eyes and it took her quite a while to calm down enough to fall asleep.

 

~

 

After another hard march, they were finally there. The Shaeravyn’s border markers were two twisted columns of phosphorescent mycelium winding their way up to the sky, where they intertwined.

Almost home.

The border post itself was busier than expected. Merchants with their caravans waited to be admitted, and a few Shaeravyn commoners swarmed around them, eager to be the first to do business.

When their ragged group appeared, all conversation ceased and Shaelith couldn’t blame them. She, a woman clearly recognizable as a Shaeravyn noble by her hairstyle, in torn clothes with glyphs painted on in blood, accompanied by a colorful troupe of foreign misfits and a whole line of terrible-looking, frightened women, attracted attention.

A Shaeravyn commoner who was inspecting goods turned pale at the sight of her and then he dropped his things just like that and sprinted away as if a horde of goblins were after him.

In ten minutes all of Myzelemaerlazin will know that I’m back.

A squad of guards approached her quickly and blocked her path and unfortunately their armor was decorated with the braids of House Rynalazel.

Fuck. Of all people.

The captain, a wiry Shaeravyn with a pronounced chin and the typical Rynalazel arrogance written on his face, eyed her with barely concealed contempt.

“The lost daughter of Vyrnara returns,” he said in Shaeravyn, his voice dripping with false concern. “With… strangers. Are those your saviors? How humiliating.”

A younger guard laughed mockingly. Shaelith’s jaw tightened, but she kept her voice calm. “Step aside. I am Shaelith Vyrnara.”

“So you say.” The captain stepped closer. “After weeks of captivity with goblins? We’ll have to verify your identity. It could be a trick. Goblin illusions are becoming better and better, or so we heard.”

Bullshit. You just want to humiliate me, you little testicle gnome.

“That’s ridiculous, and you know it,” Shaelith hissed.

“Protocol is protocol.” The Rynalazel captain’s smile was sharp as a knife. “Especially when so many strangers show up at once. A dwarf, a Sylvyn, an Umilari, and…” His gaze slid contemptuously over Benderast. “…whatever that is supposed to be. A troll?”

Benderast sensed the tension, even if he couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

“Uh, is there a problem?” He stepped forward and demonstratively flexed his impressive muscles. “Because if that guy is causing you trouble-”

Shaelith raised her hand. “Not now, Benderast,” she said in Tulvian.

He fell silent. The Rynalazel guards positioned themselves in a semicircle around them and had their sword spears already half lowered. The rescued women huddled together and Ryzinre’s eyes widened with rising panic.

“You will accompany us for questioning,” announced the Rynalazel captain in broken Tulvian. “All of you.”

“Over my dead body,” Benderast growled, placing his hand on his sword.

“That can be arranged.” The captain’s hand slid to his rapier.

Shit.

Shaelith frantically considered how to defuse the situation, but then a deep, piercing hum filled the air and the Rynalazel guards froze.

House Vyrnara cavalry appeared just above the treetops, riding on their giant armored grasshoppers. The monstrous insects landed heavily in the middle of the crowd that had gathered at the border post, causing people to scatter hastily. Their compound eyes glinted indifferently as their riders dismounted as casually as their haste allowed and walked toward Shaelith.

At their head was Captain Norvyz, an old family retainer whom Shaelith had known since childhood. Recognizing him, Shaelith relaxed noticeably. His face, covered with numerous pale scars, broke into a broad grin when he saw her.

“Luminous Shaelith! You are alive!”

He jumped off his mount, completely ignoring the Rynalazel guards, and bowed deeply before her. His troop, twenty heavily armed Vyrnara soldiers all in all, immediately formed a protective ring around Shaelith and her companions.

The Rynalazel captain’s face turned dark purple with rage. “Captain, we are conducting a security check here-”

“Security check?” Norvyz turned slowly toward him, his tone suggesting he was speaking to someone who was mentally not quite there. “You dare to stop the luminous daughter of Matriarch Vyrnara at the border? After weeks of captivity? Injured and exhausted?”

“We’re just following protocol-”

Norvyz stepped very close to the Rynalazel minion. “You can insert your so-called protocol into your puckered virgin butthole, you hideous breeding accident. If you hold her up even a second longer, I’ll cut you open from top to bottom and send your guts in a bag to your disappointed mother so she can at least make a good sausage out of you.”

You just have to love Norvyz.

The two men stared at each other. Shaelith’s exhausted brain registered how the Rynalazel captain’s fingers twitched, how Norvyz’s hand rested casually on his saber hilt, all the tiny details of their standoff, as the other guards shifted nervously in their positions.

A fight here could spark a house war. I hope this guy knows that.

“This isn’t over,” he finally hissed, stepping back. “House Rynalazel won’t let this go.”

“Do as you will,” Norvyz replied calmly. “But now make way. The Matriarch’s daughter is returning home.”

The Rynalazel guards reluctantly withdrew and Shaelith breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come, Luminous Shaelith,” Norvyz said gently. “Your mother awaits you and your…” He eyed her group with some curiosity. “…companions.”

How polite he can be when he wants to.

Three familiar figures emerged from Norvyz’s group, sorceresses from House Vyrnara, covered from head to toe in glyphs. They had obviously come prepared for a fight. Shaelith’s heart grew wide as she recognized them. There was Serevisse, one of her former tutors, and the twins Nylith and Nymande, who had taken their sorceress exams an eternity ago, one year after her.

“Shaelith!” Serevisse hugged her tightly and the normally so composed sorceress seemed unusually emotional. “We thought you were-”

“Dead?” Shaelith returned the embrace. “I usually try not to die.”

The twins pushed their way in, wrapping their four arms around Shaelith at the same time, and she felt something loosen in her chest.

I really am home.

“We brought food and supplies,” Nylith said, pointing to several boxes. “But-” She raised her voice, switching to Tulvian. “The strangers must be veiled.”

“Veiled?” Benderast frowned.

Serevisse stepped forward, activated a glyph, and shimmering mycelial strands materialized in her hands. “No one but the Shaeravyn may know the way to Myzelemaerlazin. The masks are harmless, don’t be afraid.”

“But I want to see the quest markers!” protested Benderast.

Grimbart sighed deeply. “Please just do as they say, Benderast.”

The mycelium grew gently over their faces, forming perfectly fitting masks. Mirrsoss flinched nervously as it approached her antennae.

“Don’t worry,” Nymande reassured her in Tulvian. “I’ll be careful with your antennae.”

Thaelon stood stiffly as the fungal material grew over his eyes and his entire body radiated discomfort.

“Norvyz,” Shaelith addressed the captain, “send a messenger to my mother ahead of us.”

He gave a curt nod and beckoned one of his riders.

Shaelith quickly described the ambush, that the goblins had a quite possibly human warlock as their leader who possessed magic that could penetrate Shaeravyn shields, what had happened to them in captivity, and how they had been rescued. And that the warlock had been buried but probably not killed.

Soon giant beetles arrived for them at the side of the road and the carriages they pulled were made of living mycelium.

As they climbed in, Shaelith noticed the difference among the rescued women. The humans and Sylvyn huddled together fearfully, but the Shaeravyn women, who of course did not wear eye masks, visibly relaxed. Even Ryzinre breathed more freely, and her tense posture seemed to loosen slightly. Shaelith pressed her shoulder briefly and gently and Ryzinre allowed it.

We are safe now. Or at least in familiar danger.

“I really can’t see anything!” came Benderast’s muffled complaint as he tried in vain to peek out of his mycelial mask.

“That’s the point, dingus,” Shaelith murmured in Shaeravyn as the beetles started moving.

 

~

 

As the beetles rolled through the last gate, the mycelial masks dissolved on their own. Shaelith watched with amusement as Benderast blinked and then gasped for air.

“Holy shit!” His eyes grew huge. “This is like… like Menzoberranzan mixed with that glowing forest from Avatar! And the mushrooms remind me a bit of the Telvanni Towers in Morrowind!”

Shaelith bit her tongue to keep from replying that the Telvanni mushrooms were way uglier.

Before them, Myzelemaerlazin presented itself in all its bioluminescent glory, with its massive mushroom towers twisting towards the far away roof of the grotto, which glowed in gentle violet.

A warm feeling spread through Shaelith’s chest. It had been a long journey, with two weeks of disgusting goblin stench. But now, finally, there was the sweet scent of spores and mushrooms again, the scent of home.

The news of their return spread like wildfire. Curious Shaeravyn crowded the roadsides and waved in their direction.

“The Moonlit Orchid lives!”

“So many strangers in Myzelemaerlazin!”

“Is that an Umilari?”

“Have you seen that huge human?”

Healers from House Vyrnara were already waiting for them at the entrance to the Vyrnara palace and took charge of the rescued women right away. The humans and Sylvyn were gently but firmly led away, while the Shaeravyn women were taken to another wing of the palace.

And before she did anything else, Shaelith personally accompanied Ryzinre to the best healers of House Vyrnara. The silver-haired woman’s hands trembled as she greedily inhaled the familiar scent of Myzelemaerlazin.

“I… I hate that you were right,” Ryzinre whispered suddenly.

Shaelith stopped. “What?”

“That survival is better.” Ryzinre’s voice broke. “You were right, but I hate it anyway.”

“I care about you,” Shaelith said softly. “Even if you hate me. As long as I live, you will always have a place in House Vyrnara.”

“I don’t hate you. I just hate that you were right.” A pause. “I… thank you.”

The healers took over and they spoke kindly to Ryzinre, promising to “remove the abomination.” Shaelith squeezed Ryzinre’s hand one last time before leaving.

“Captain Norvyz,” Shaelith said, turning around, “take my companions to the guest quarters. Make sure they have everything they need. I will visit them as soon as I-” She looked down at herself taking in the torn clothes, all the dried blood and two weeks of goblin stench. “As soon as I am presentable again.”

Norvyz bowed. “Of course.”

Shaelith hurried through the familiar corridors to her private chambers. The mycelial door let her in, and that indefinable sweet scent of home enveloped her like an embrace. Her chambers were unchanged, as if she had only been away for an afternoon stroll.

“Shaelith!” Belyssere rushed toward her and the older Shaeravyn hugged her tightly, stroked her hair lovingly and sobbed. “We thought…”

“I missed you too, Belyssere,” Shaelith murmured into the embrace, surprised by the wave of emotion that washed over her.

Belyssere pulled away and her gentle smile returned, but her eyes still glistened suspiciously. “We’ve already prepared a bath.”

Four more servants waited by the steaming pool, which was sunk into the ground. The water, which was heated by underground heating mushrooms, shimmered with a faint glow. Without ceremony, Shaelith dropped the scraps of her clothing and sank into the water.

Heaven. This is better than sex. Almost.

The servants followed her into the water and worked on her with fragrant oils and soft sponges. Weeks of dirt and despair finally dissolved away. One of them washed her hair while another carefully scrubbed the improvised blood glyphs from her skin. A third let her hand slip between Shaelith’s legs with a questioning look, but Shaelith just shook her head with a smile, and the servant withdrew her hand.

“I need real glyphs now,” Shaelith ordered shortly thereafter as she was dried off, and Belyssere brought the crystal vials with high-quality mycelial ink and in a well-rehearsed choreography the servants helped Shaelith draw all the glyphs on her skin.

As the ink dried and bonded with her skin, Shaelith felt the magic flowing properly again, in a steady, powerful connection.

Now I am myself again.

She chose a dress made of deep purple spider silk, interwoven with silver threads. It was revealing by human standards, but downright modest by Shaeravyn standards. It was one of the most modest dresses she had, in fact.

I don’t want to risk giving Ben a nosebleed.

Belyssere braided her hair with some messages after her direction. Grateful for rescue, The Orchid unyielding, Mourning for losses, and of course House Vyrnara above all others.

An hour later, after the transformation from ragged prisoner to noble sorceress was complete, Shaelith entered the guest quarters and found Benderast practically hanging over the balcony railing. “This is absolutely incredible! Look down there, in the garden! There are naked people!”

Of course, that’s the first thing he notices.

Mirrsoss fluttered around excitedly. “It’s so different from the hanging cities, but it’s not dark at all. Everything glows!”

Grimbart stood there with his arms crossed and examined the walls of their quarters. “Good stonework… uh… I mean… mushroom work? I don’t know what to call it, but it’s good work.”

Only Thaelon stood still in a corner, radiating discomfort.

Sylvyns don’t like being underground. Too far away from their beloved trees.

When they noticed Shaelith, they all fell silent. Benderast turned around and his eyes widened. Even Grimbart and Thaelon stared for a moment before they managed to compose themselves.

“Oh wow,” Mirrsoss gasped, “what a beautiful dress! Is that spider silk?”

Shaelith suppressed a smile and switched to formal Tulvian. “House Vyrnara expresses its gratitude. You are our honored guests for the time being and these quarters are yours for as long as you need them. And I will, of course, ensure that you receive an appropriate reward.”

Benderast grinned broadly as his eyes wandered over her figure.

If you think that means I’m coming to your chamber tonight, you’re gravely mistaken, you horndog.

The door to the guest quarters swung open and Matriarch Laenre Vyrnara entered. With a single wave of her hand, she dismissed all the servants. The door closed gently behind the last one.

For a moment, just a tiny moment, Laenre dropped her mask.

Shaelith saw the small tears in the corners of her mother’s eyes before she pulled her into an unusually firm embrace.

“I had already prepared your funeral rites,” Laenre whispered to Shaeravyn.

Shaelith didn’t know what to do with her feelings. Her aloof, calculating mother was trembling slightly in her arms.

“I’m not that easy to kill, Mother,” Shaelith murmured, returning the embrace.

Laenre pulled away, and as if activated by a glyph, her usual composure returned. Only her slightly reddened eyes betrayed anything at all.

“Your cousin Vyriz deserted his unit when he learned that you had been taken prisoner.”

Shaelith’s heart sank. “Where is he?”

“No one knows.” Laenre’s mouth twitched. “He escaped all his pursuers. The resourceful idiot.”

Shaelith flinched.

He searched for me, risked his entire military career for me. I hope the news that I survived and am free reaches him soon.

Laenre’s amethyst eyes wandered over the party, who had bowed awkwardly. Her gaze lingered on Benderast, who was still trying to sneak a peek at the naked Shaeravyn in the garden.

She switched to Tulvian. “And this group here fought with you against that warlock?”

“Yeah!” Benderast turned around enthusiastically. “He had red armor, a giant club, and some pretty weird magic. He had a real evil villain vibe, but overall he seemed a bit generic, if you ask me. Didn’t really fit with all the other imaginative worldbuilding here.”

Laenre’s left eyebrow rose a fraction, which was her version of open amazement.

Well done, Ben. You just confused the hell out of the most dangerous woman in Myzelemaerlazin with your earth slang.

“The council wants to hear all about it,” Laenre said, as if Benderast hadn’t said anything strange. “Tomorrow at sunrise. If this warlock is indeed behind the goblin invasion and possesses magic unknown to us, then he is more threatening than we thought.”

Her gaze swept over the party. “You will be questioned. Answer truthfully and you have nothing to fear.”

“Uh, will there be a reward?” Benderast blurted out. “I mean, we basically saved a princess and-”

Grimbart kicked his shin. Thaelon seemed to be trying to blend into the wall, and Mirrsoss’s antennae twitched nervously.

Laenre looked at Benderast with the same friendly expression she used when ordering executions. “Of course, House Vyrnara will reward your services appropriately.” A small smile played around her lips. “And maybe there will be further opportunities for capable warriors like you to earn merit, who knows?”

She turned to Shaelith and switched back to Shaeravyn. “Prepare them for the council. Especially that loud bullfrog of a human.”

Laenre turned to leave, then paused as if she had just remembered something. “Oh, Shaelith, before I forget.”

Oh no. That tone of voice.

“One of the women you freed is Princess Obelaine, daughter of King Gelsevier, one of the Triarchs of Tulvia.” Laenre’s smile broadened. “Her father will be very grateful to us. Good work. Come to the council well rested.”

The door closed behind her.

Princess Obelaine? One of the traumatized women actually is a damn Tulvian princess?