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Abyssal Road Trip - 482 - Is it victory
🕑 Added 2025-01-17 07:01:29 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - East Wind’s Court
The Enchanter’s Pavilion was a sprawling complex on the western side of the dome; it had a sweeping roof with a dramatic crest and decorative edges; within it, Amdirlain could sense distinct sections occupied by the artificers and Tao enchanters, but the protections throughout the complex used a combination of the professions. When she’d first arrived, all of them had used etched techniques with runes carved into the materials; now, sections contained infused runes buried inside the material. Though slipping through the security seemed easy enough, she behaved.
The interior had a three-story expanse with numerous screen doors and corridors leading off from it. Two flights of stairs worked their way up on the sides, while at the back, between two corridors, a broad set of stairs descended to a set of reinforced doors. Beyond them, Amdirlain could sense the secure labs in the basement levels.
Her appearance in the entry courtryard caused those who spotted her to offer rigid bows; anticipation and restrained excitement coursing through their themes. Within the minds about her, Amdirlain caught many variations of the events from their journey that had spread in the years she’d spent meditating. She acknowledged them with a salute before heading through the front door.
As students and masters reacted to her presence, the murmur of her name drew an official from their office, so she remained in place, looking casually over the complex’s foyer. The man wearing the blue and white heron-themed uniform approached her with confident steps before stopping a polite distance away. Deep lines around his eyes hinted at his age and gave his features a jolly air despite his leanness, but his long ink-black hair didn’t contain a hint of grey.
“Hello Lady Am. I’m Head Clerk Shimizu Takato. It’s an honour to greet you on your first visit to the Enchanter’s Pavilion. I hope we can ensure your visit is enjoyable.” He promptly gave her a deep bow.
Amdirlain returned his bow with a shallow one, gauging the required degree from the reaction of the onlookers. “Thank you, Head Clerk Shimizu Takato. I appreciate your warm welcome, but I’m here for a personal matter today. I understand Lady Sarah is running a lecture on infusing runes today. Could someone escort me to the lecture hall she is using?”
“I would be happy to walk you there myself and point out the pavilion facilities along the way.”
“That is extremely kind of you. My meditation sidetracked my plans to explore the court.”
“Many people have been eager to greet you. I hope you’ll have time to meet with members of our facilities now your meditations have ended.”
“I’m sure we can plan some sessions to discuss matters of mutual interest. I’ll send invitations to your office once I’ve made enquiries.”
Her response prompted Takato to bow again. Rising, he made a broad gesture toward one of the foyer’s back exits. “This way, Lady Am.”
As they moved through the passages, Takato played tour guide, and she replied with polite questions and token comments while she sent off messages.
“Roher, I hope things are better for you than the last time we spoke. I appreciate you assisting with all those crystals. You saved the others a lot of anxiety.”
She sent a similar message to Gail before a golden orb at her shoulder whispered Roher’s reply in pure concepts. “I was glad to help Am. You’ve needed very little help that didn’t also benefit us. Things have improved, and people have been putting in more effort of late, so we’ve finished the restoration of the dead worlds. We’ve resumed using the ancient songs to learn what work awaits, and it has improved their attitudes. I think there is still far too much pride contaminating the Lómë. After our last meeting, I’ve reminded others that what they endured was our own fault.”
Thoughts of assembled Lómë no longer raised the same rage within her, and Amdirlain could only assume Lethe was no longer playing games.
Gail’s response followed Roher’s reply with barely a pause. “Auntie Am, I’m so glad you’re alright. Mother was worried about you, so please tell her you’re alright if you’ve not seen Klipyl yet. It was fun singing with Roher alone, so if you need any more crystals made, just let me know.”
The thought of Ebusuku continually being aware of Klipyl’s antics brought out a relaxed smile. Encouraged by Amdirlain’s good mood, Takato elaborated on the pavilion’s activities. She responded with encouraging questions and appreciative feedback on the establishment. She hadn’t hidden her approach from Sarah, who began to wrap up her lecture early.
The lecture hall itself was a mix of auditorium and workshop. Sarah’s workbench was the focal point for a semicircular room, but the five tiers ringing it hosted workbenches instead of lecture chairs. Artificers watched an illusion that magnified the process as she infused runes into one of the dome barrier components.
When Amdirlain entered the lecture hall, Sarah was issuing further reading and practice recommendations, her tone crisp and business-like. Nearby, a silver Shen assistant spun agitatedly, busy recording everything for anyone who needed later confirmation.
“Thank you for your guidance, Head Clerk Shimizu Takato.”
“I was pleased to be at your service, Lady Am,” Takato replied, and after exchanging bows, Amdirlain headed for the front of the hall, drinking in her wife’s lithe form clad in red leathers.
Amdirlain set an apple on the lecture desk as the last attendees streamed out the doors and coyly bit her lip. “I enjoyed your instructions, Miss Noth.”
“Two years of tardiness and you try to buy me off with an apple? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry, but at least I brought you something juicy.”
Sarah barked with laughter, then swept forward to hug Amdirlain. “Sweetie, we talked about it in advance. Though you have a late fee on a few dates.”
“How big is the bill going to be?”
“I’ll let you know later,” Sarah cupped her face, drinking in her presence. “I missed you.”
Amdirlain cradled her hips. “Likewise, my love. It was a long time apart.”
“Did you get dragged into Orhêthurin’s life?”
“Orhêthurin’s life was repulsing me. I had to force my way to it.”
“Of course you forced your way into it.” Sarah cocked her head. “It only took you two years to get through her life?”
“No, I recruited the memory guardian she left in place, and they helped me examine a couple of decades.”
“Okay. Do we catch up? Or tell me what happened and then catch up?”
Amdirlain glanced at the illusion, which was still displaying runes. “When is your next lecture?”
“I told them I’d teach until you came out of the trance or someone knew enough to replace me. They’ll have to see if they can recruit someone to replace me.”
“I still have a few things to learn here, and I’ll need time to work through the theory I learnt from Orhêthurin.”
Sarah turned to her assistant. “We’ll be back.”
Amdirlain shifted them to an empty Demi-Plane.
When they arrived to float in the darkness, Sarah’s brows raised. “Does the honeymoon suite have occupants?”
“Yeah. Let me fix this up for you.”
Sarah laughed. “You can handle that later. Just take us to Foundry. I’ve got enough things in my Inventory to make anywhere comfortable.”
“You don’t want a planet-sized spot as an apology?”
“I only need you around and safe. Take us somewhere that won’t require you to shed blood before we can snuggle. There is my playpen if you want somewhere for a mating flight.”
Amdirlain coughed sheepishly. “I regret needling you about it now.”
“There are many ways to play, dear one,” replied Sarah, cupping Amdirlain’s cheek. “We could curl up on the plains and let Dragon Fear keep the dinosaurs away.”
They reappeared on the edge of the inner sea; grasslands and water stretched out all around them.
“Your choice: Dragon form or house,” said Amdirlain.
The house appeared on the soft sands. It briefly swivelled back and forth before it poked a talon into the water and then retreated a hundred metres.
“Its logic chain was cute: I can’t kill water, and there are big things in it, so let’s move away from creatures with big mouths,” drawled Amdirlain.
“It’s been dormant for a while now, so I’m glad the release protocols worked smoothly.” Sarah looped an arm around Amdirlain, and they strolled after the house, which unfurled its defences and scanned the horizon. “Lots of gigantic creatures have it on edge. That’s why it moved from the sea—not the water, but the unknown creatures in the depths.”
Much later, they were curled up in tangled sheets, with Amdirlain snuggled beside Sarah, enjoying the scent of her passion-warmed skin, fingertips idlying trailing between breasts and hip as she talked over her arrival in the trance.
“That cave led to an unpleasant memory I won’t go into now.”
“Not wanting to spoil the mood?”
“Yeah, certainly not,” Amdirlain sighed. “I’ll tell you soon, but not at present. Anyway, after I got done appreciating exactly how much of a douche Kronos was to Ori. Lethe took me through the decades Ori spent designing True Song and its notation.”
“You’re a smart cookie, but Ori’s brain moved faster.”
“I’m able to appreciate that, and her, more now. I’ve got so many snippets buzzing through my brain that I will need time to settle.”
“How much time?”
“Decades, maybe. While I can vaguely see how I’ll align the courts to a planet, I underestimated the effort to repair the realm’s skin. I also understand the scope of True Song better now. She developed a Power that could mimic her Primordial Will in this realm and then restricted parts of it. The current Lómë are weakened by further restrictions and poor Class selections, preventing them from accessing the full extent of their original Power.”
“Unless they strip all their classes away and begin again focused on singing alone?” asked Sarah.
Amdirlain shrugged and inhaled slowly, focusing on the scent of Sarah’s skin. “Yeah. They’ll have to leave it to the children.”
“Or I could offer that class removal option to Roher and Laleither, and then you could power level them by creating demi-planes together. Profile Mastery doesn’t strip skills away, so they could level fast even if you weren’t completely carrying them. Or you could expand some empty demi-planes for them to use as training grounds,” proposed Sarah.
“Taking that approach sounds viable, but it would give too much away to Laleither. Also, I don’t think leaving them significantly weakened for a prolonged time would be wise. Yet both might qualify for decent Prestige classes for all their work keeping the communities alive.”
“If they had classes that could combine.” Sarah brushed a strand of Amdirlain’s hair from her eyes. “We talk about weird things while cuddling.”
“Just planning how to take over the world.”
Sarah snorted. “If you call me pinky, you’re in so much trouble.”
Amdirlain propped herself up and fixed Sarah with an innocent smile. “I’d never say that.”
“Aloud?”
“Now you’re just twisting my words.” Leaning closer, Amdirlain stole a light kiss. “I missed you. I tried to learn all the details before the trance ended but missed you throughout.”
“Let’s dispel any lingering loneliness,” murmured Sarah as she shifted position and form.
♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
They spent a few days savouring each other’s company before returning to Vehtë. Once summoned, Amdirlain shifted them through the court wards to their accommodation, where Cyrus and Kadaklan were reading in the main living space. Many bright paintings cluttered the walls, hung there during the years she’d spent meditating.
Kadaklan smiled. “Welcome back.”
“Two years meditating and not a sign of your sigil improving. I take it you had an interesting adventure, as always.” Cyrus set aside the book he’d been reading.
“I met a thought form who’d been trying to block access to Orhêthurin’s memories, and when blocking didn’t work, she had been hitting me with unpleasant ones.”
“You had an entity inside you?” Kadaklan paused in furling his scroll.
Amdirlain’s relaxed smile warmed the room. “I still do. I recruited her to be my librarian. She helped me get at some crucial memories related to True Song. I’ve confirmed aligning a planet with the courts is possible, but it will take me some work to get the composition right.”
Cyrus leaned forward slightly. “What risks are involved?”
“I’ll get back to you on that one. I need to get all the theory down before getting into practical applications.”
“Do you believe this memory guardian played a part in your sigil igniting?” asked Kadaklan.
“I think more than memories were being constrained by Lethe. Orhêthurin didn’t want her reincarnations to be aware of her, so I think Lethe’s presence sealed other energies away. With my proximity to her, some of those energies leaked out to my spiritual net, and I think Enduring Flame caused me to cycle them automatically.”
“That was two ‘I think’s,” noted Kadaklan.
“Yet another hypothesis that is hard to test when I’m the only affected party. I hope I wasn’t a burden. Sarah said you didn’t want to rely on a psionic construct to monitor me,” said Amdirlain.
“You could have picked a more comfortable spot, but it’s given me time to clear up some of my issues about water.”
“Klipyl no longer needs to distract you as much?” questioned Amdirlain.
“I don’t believe she does, but that’s not for me to judge. It gave us plenty of time to work on the paintings, and we went for walks when others were watching over you.”
Amdirlain smiled playfully. “Walking out with my little sister.”
“We’re friends and allowed to go on walks. Our respective situations make things convoluted.”
“You know her boss would probably say it’s her choice.”
“Klipyl considers you her boss,” stated Kadaklan. "Along with big sister."
“Then it’s her choice. I’ll make that clear to her. Anyway, my question is, do I practise my composing here, or do we move to the South Wind’s Court after I do some courtesy visits?”
“How much time do you plan to spend writing songs?”
“It might be a few decades as I plan to see how much healing I can do.”
Kadaklan’s gaze darted to Sarah. “Did you want to keep teaching here?”
Sarah waggled a finger. “Choose for yourself, cupcake.”
“When did I become a cupcake?”
“When Klipyl started looking like you were her only sweet. I can teleport back and forth, so it doesn’t matter as long as we’re on Vehtë.”
Kadaklan blushed. “I would prefer to be under the sky rather than water. Yet it is good for me to understand my emotions better, and Klipyl is enjoying her regular tea ceremonies.”
“She can teleport as well,” noted Sarah crisply.
His shoulders slumped slightly. “Can we move on?”
“Give me some time to meet a few people, and we’ll do just that. This might seem odd, but I’d like to try the trance properly before we do.”
Kadaklan nodded in understanding. “The Soul healing texts are here. If it doesn’t work out, you might need to find a different one.”
Amdirlain filled the day with the meet-and-greets around the Enchanter’s Pavilion that she had agreed to with Head Clerk Shimizu Takato. With the agendas carefully set to social conversation, no one even hinted at wanting favours or aid.
Evening found her kneeling again on the kitchen’s stone floor, dipping into a meditative state. The manifestations of the many lifetimes appeared again. Though the various orbs still swirled around them, they were no longer imprisoned by Orhêthurin masks. Some of them, she recognised the associated lifetimes from the snippets of memories she’d recovered. Amdirlain caught sight of the old dwarven patriarch; his craggy features carrying a grim acceptance. A sharp-featured woman had the points of fangs pressed against her bottom lip. Without the repulsion effect from Orhêthurin, she could feel a tiny figure among them flitting at the edge of her awareness. A finger-length high, it flitted about on dragonfly wings, staying hidden behind other figures. Thousands of tiny, spinning grey rings surrounded it. Yet, its energy wasn’t that of a hunter but an abused child trying to avoid the attention of predators.
While she could sense Lethe waiting for her within the image of Orhêthurin, she released the trance and blinked at Kadaklan. “I think I know the lifetime I need to handle first. It’s a short one.”
“What called to you about it?”
“It wants to be left alone. Sometimes, I want solitude and for people to leave me alone, the image feels like that. A siren song that matches my craving to hide away.”
“If you’re sure you want to try it.”
“It felt like a simpler, though unpleasant, life. Even if the trance takes me through the lot, I doubt it will last an evening.”
Amdirlain cycled Ki and Mana through her sigil, simultaneously connecting the primary and secondary channels between nodes. As she entered the trance the figures reappeared around her, and it took a bit to focus on the pixie-like figure as it darted about; she leapt toward it and delicately clasped its hand.
The moment she touched the tiny figure, she found herself in a memory, her heart pounding hard in her chest. Her eyes flicked open, and she shrank back in terror at the two giants looming above her. Their massive forms were barely visible through the narrow gaps of her cage. Instinctive reactions caused her to flit away, only to be brought up short when the collar around her neck hit the limit of the magical leash. Yanked back from the in-between, she face-planted against the cold iron bars and recoiled, screaming, clasping at her burnt skin. The tattered flower petals that covered her body sizzled and smoked from the touch, and she slapped the flames out.
“Will she even understand instructions?” A green-eyed giant peered down through the top bars of her cage. She hissed up at the foul human, tongue pressed against the back of needle-thin teeth. He thought of himself by a word that felt like a mumbled grunt to her.
The narrow slits of her nostrils flared as she drank in the stench of their rotten meat eater flesh; the translucent membrane of her wings thrashed the air.
“Don’t let her fool you. Wild Pix don’t need to be taught to communicate.” A second giant fumbled at the tiny cage door, double-checking the latch. His pallid skin smelt rancid, far from the sweetness of wildflowers she preferred, but she’d sink teeth into him if she got a chance. “Fools call them brainless because they flit about and take advantage of vague orders. They understand the intent behind every spoken and written word, even ciphers. It makes them the perfect messengers and spies as long as you hold their leash tight enough.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred.”
“Is that all? I’ve got that with me now.“ There was a clink of metal as he took a pouch larger than her from his waist.
The second human raised a hand to refuse it. “You misunderstand. You’ve got the king’s writ, but is this your first time purchasing a Pix?”
“Yes.”
“Values are always in units of a million. She can shift a greater mass than most, and she’s young, so you’ll get at least fifty years of service from her.”
Shock flared across the first Human’s mind; she hissed angrily at the concept of being owned by another. “How can a creature so tiny be worth so much?”
“Why are you even seeking one?” The merchant looked at him with sudden concern, his hand dipping to the gun at his belt.
The green-eyed man drew himself upright; his flat toothed mouth twisted in a sneer as ugly as his mind. “The Steward appointed by the King to assist my transition told me I’d find them vital for my dealings with other nobility. I’m Baron Falsheer.”
The merchant’s hand twitched away from the butt of his gun. “I heard he’d awarded a new barony at the last gathering. That makes sense now, but your Steward must dislike you. I mean, to send you down here without further advice or accompanying you? They must seek to ruin your holdings.”
The image of the green-eyed man dismissing his Steward’s concerns flickered in his mind, but the man wore a concerned expression as false as his heart. “I’ll keep that in mind. Will you take a script?”
She tried to pry off the collar as they continued to blab between themselves, but the usually friendly silver refused to bend to her will. Before she figured out why it resisted, the second giant had reached into the cage and ordered her to stand on his palm. Her body moved despite her mind screaming in outrage. Upon the littlest finger of his massive hand was a cold iron ring; no matter how much she tried, her gaze slipped off it.
“She’s bound to follow the instructions of the wearer. Be careful to give her clear, concise instructions that aren’t prone to selective misunderstandings.”
“I thought she could understand the intent behind the words.”
“She can, but the magic in the leash can only enforce the letter of your instructions. It doesn’t know what her magic has gleaned.”
The green-eyed man eyed her thoughtfully. “How much can she shift?”
“We’ve tested her up to ten kilograms, far more than most, hence her price. If you need her to shift more, work with an accredited monster trainer to expand her capacity. Even the weakest can move objects up to a hundred times their weight from place to place instantly; anything over that starts taking longer. If the weight is too much, they never arrive.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Amdirlain gradually made sense of the Human civilisation in that world through the images the Pix caught from their thoughts. A mix of magic and steam-punk technology, their metallurgy allowed them to dominate the wild, Fey-like species of the world. Dominated by his careful instructions, she found resistance only through the smallest of loopholes, enjoying the minor discomforts and conflicts brought by the few misunderstandings she could cause. Aware she couldn’t change anything, she took in the details of the unpleasant life and sought applicable lessons.
Her journey through the lifetimes’s memories jumped between jobs and deliveries, sometimes skipping days or months. Ten, twenty, then thirty years, the decades counted off with the ring on his finger, leashing her to his will. With yet another errand done, she lay in the shadows of the couch sprawled atop the ledger he’d told her to find. The green-eyed shit stumbled in, smelling of spoiled berries, burnt meat, and bitter spices, the stench of yet another banquet all wafting about him. The weird sheen of his mind was new; swirls of odd colours and lines she knew straight waved about like wind-tossed flowers shedding petals.
He almost tripped on the carpet and half sat, half landed on the couch that concealed her. The dried and oiled hide creaked ominously as he struggled to right himself. Eventually the image from his thought showed he was upright, his gaze on the ceiling's textures, the colour shifted more, and he held up a hand that grew extra fingers that wobbled about uncontrollably.
“Someone bring me a drink.” His bellow stung her ears, and she heard the slave in the corridor scamper into the room, running for his drink cupboard. She jumped through the in-between to the Steward’s bedroom. Among the man’s collection were special bottles for individuals that the baron wanted to experience an agonising death. A hand on top of one, she jumped again. Cut glass glistened in the moonlight as the sliced top of the extra spicy bottle fell to one side.
The stench of the poison the Steward had laced it with smelt so lovely. A third jump put her upside down above the baron, and the bottle’s truncated neck sliced his tongue. Her hands and feet clasped the slippery glass as her wings beat feverishly.
He coughed and spluttered from the deluge, but his eyes bulged as droplets crossed through the flesh of his mouth to enter his blood. How much got to his stomach was unimportant as froth filled his vile mouth. Focused on his terrified panic, she missed the flailing hand that spun her across the room.
The slave screamed as the baron tried to vomit. He died scratching at the carpeted floor like one of the snapping dogs, white froth flooding across his lips, eyes turned into bleeding holes. A jump put her beside the remains of the bottle, pulled close by the leash and standing orders. She lost herself in the sweet berries and the poison, which was as lovely to her as revenge. None of his slaves came to his aid; without fresh orders, she couldn’t leave the room. Eventually, the executioner came to deal with her; his grey poniard glinted in the light. Its cold iron broke her teeth as it drove through her face.
Amdirlain’s gaze snapped open. The flames within the new wires linking her sigil’s nodes lit the kitchen.
[Sigil Stage: 1->2]
Kadaklan blinked at her owlishly. “That went fast. I didn’t even finish a page.”
“Thirty years running around with messages and objects, spying on workers and agents for a new noble. An unpleasant life, a sad life.” Amdirlain let out a slow exhalation.
“You must have gotten something from it for your sigil to progress.”
“It was another life where someone else had control over my decisions. On someone’s leash, the way the elves enslaved the miner. I learnt how minor details can contribute to meaningful resistance and how being unseen can be the best tool for survival. Who knows, I might even learn discretion one day.”
“You’re not trying for subtle?”
Amdirlain laughed. “One step at a time.”
She noted the residual energies within her Soul that resonated with the Pix and a distant realm. Before Kadaklan could suggest otherwise, she returned to the trance.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Glenn Wright
I made a change that I hope gives clarity.
Glenn Wright
Okay, I'll see if I can smooth it out - the Steward's cupboard is in a different room. She knew about the bottle from the Steward's mind - she teleported to it - teleported the top off, and then teleported into the baron's mouth.
James Skinner
The part at the end where the noble dies is confusing. The fact that she can see what he is seeing (I think) puzzled me, are the drinks cupboard and the Steward's cupboard the same cupboard or not, why is the bottle broken, who is he - the slave or the noble - and she teleports the bottle into his mouth? Actually I just had a thought, is it her taking the noble's command to get him a drink as applying to her, and there's some plot with the steward? Thanks for the chapter, but those few paragraphs just didn't make sense to me.
Glenn Wright
Fixed
CringeWorthyStudios
“Klipyl considers you her boss,” stated Klipyl. > Either one of those two is wrong, or Klipyl has suddenly started talking in third person… She noted the residual energies within her Soul that resonated with the Pix and a distant realm. Before Kadaklan could suggest otherwise, she returned to the trance. > I’d be all up for a quick day trip back to that real to free as many fey as possible and offer to bring them back with her once Am reacquires her Primordial Will. Heck, I’d be up for her going back to the dwarf realm too. She’s gotta keep living up to her old goddess aspects, after all. Actually, I say that but I’d really love for her to just become a goddess again. The initial Vente arc is still my favourite, aside from the bullshit with Viper. Thanks for the chapter!
Plateworm
Tftc
