AbyssalRoadTrip
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Hell's Songbird - 11
🕑 Added 2022-08-14 21:40:39 +0000 UTCYou need to learn to manage, not complain.
The words offer no support and make it clear Ilya is still testing.
Now I wish now that I’d gotten into Julia’s roleplaying games. I barely know where to start with magic, but I remember a few things. “Do you know any invisibility spells?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Could you cast one for me?”
“I could, but some demons don’t rely on sight, and others can sense Mana.”
“Did you sense Mana when I duplicated your other Spell effects?”
Ilya’s lips twist into a smug smile, and her music gains a knowing theme. “You tell me, did you focus your True Sight enough to make out the individual energies?”
“No.”
“Then how did you duplicate-,” Ilya cut herself off, “Don’t explain. This time, watch properly and focus on seeing the Mana flow. Get used to watching for them unless you want to trip wards.”
There aren’t any words or gestures when the music starts. A crystalline shimmer shows around Ilya, and she fades from view, with colours shifting across her form.
[True Sight [B](11->12)]
The notification comes hand-in-hand with a partial reversal of the fading. Despite her body being clearer, the shimmer around Ilya remains in place, an energy matrix empowering a colour-altering effect. Though the Spell’s partial effect still has her colours appear washed out, the energy highlights Ilya’s body.
“Are you seeing the energy?” Ilya asks and immediately starts another Spell at my nod. An energy orb leaps from her fingers and streaks towards a distant boulder. On impact, the energy vanishes and a spray of rock fragments results. “However it manifests in your vision; keep watching for it. When True Sight improves, you can start to determine the Mana aspects within the Spell form.”
“How does it appear to you?” I ask, hoping the beautiful crystalline shimmers aren’t just madness inspired.
“Like gusts of swirling wind carrying around motes of energy. You?”
“A crystalline pattern around you, but the orb’s pattern was different.”
Ilya nodded and motioned to the pattern along her arm. “Wizards cast spells by forming patterns that focus the Mana on producing the Spell’s effect. This particular Spell is called Chameleon and blends me into my surroundings, useless against anyone with True Sight, but demons don’t possess that Power.”
“But…”
My lingering prompt gains a smile from Ilya that almost touches her gaze for a change.
“How did you know there was going to be a ‘but’ to that?”
“There is always a but,” I counter.
“Demons have Mana Sense, so best not to use spells with too much strength around them since they don’t have to have a line of sight on you to feel the energy. There are also exceptions where the demons possess either True Sight or something that pierces illusionary spells,” cautions Ilya, her smile twisting into a grimace.
Giving a hopeful smile, I try for a clue. “I know there is a trick to padding about, but it's been years since I tried to stalk about in the bushland.”
“The two common options are to place the outer edge of your foot down and then roll your foot flat, or put your weight on your toes first and then lower your heel. Once you get used to walking that way, it becomes second nature. Either approach minimises the initial contact and lets you stop if you make noise.”
The crispy ice coating the ground promises to make as much noise as summer-dried leaves. Taking a few trial steps, using one approach and then the other, simply has it crunching beneath me as loudly as if I was chewing the ice.
“What way do you use?”
“Toes first,” admits Ilya.
The soft boots they’d issued at least make that easy enough, but it still takes a while before I no longer sound like I’m not deliberately grinding my feet. When it finally works the first time that Mr Message makes himself known.
[Stealth (4->5)]
Maybe it’s because I’m trying that Ilya lets me continue for a half-hour of fun before she calls a halt. “Teleport halfway to the first foothill, then to the base of the first hill.”
This form's hawk-life vision lets me zone in on a distant patch of ice, and I will tell myself to shift location.
[Greater Teleport (Self) [Ap](7->8)
Ilya appears next to me, and I promptly shift again. The arrival causing the snow to crunch snow underfoot each time has me wincing.
“You missing something?”
“I’m making too much noise arriving,” I admit, and Ilya grants me a nod.
“Glad you considered it.”
Glancing down shows her standing on the ice, and I don’t see any difference. “How come you don’t?”
“I don’t arrive standing flat-footed, but considering you can hover without using your wings, why not try arriving above the ice?”
“Ohh!”
“Yeah, I’m glad the Gate is well beyond this mountain range; we’re going to need the practice time,” grumbles Ilya. “Do I need to stab you to encourage you to think?”
“Pass.”
“We’re going up over the mountain’s ridgeline; in case you hadn’t noticed, there isn’t a pass here.”
Even speaking the same language isn’t enough for terms not to be misleading. “I’d meant I’ll pass on your generous offer.”
Ilya points to a spot beneath another hill’s crest, and this time my arrival has me hovering soundlessly above the ground. Slowly easing myself to the ice doesn’t improve my Flight, but Stealth is happy.
[Stealth (5->6)]
The Teleport jumps slowly take us higher up the mountain, with Ilya making me walk about to reinforce the lesson on placing my feet carefully. We’re not even halfway up the mountain's foothills when she signals a halt.
“Do you remember the Spell I cast back there?”
“Yes.”
Giving me a suspicious look, Ilya motions to get on with it. “Then duplicate it.”
“Could you cast it again?”
“I didn’t offer,” growls Ilya. “Duplicate it now.”
After a few false starts and spitting a mouthful of blood, I get the song in place and see the crystalline pattern flowing across me. Neither I nor my surroundings look any different to me, and even when I turn off True Sight, the only thing that fades out is the pattern covering me.
[True Song [Ap](3->4)]
“Let the effect end,” instructs Ilya, finally having grown impatient after I’ve flipped True Sight on and off a dozen times.
Holding my hands out from my side helplessly, I tease her with a pout. “I don’t know how.”
“Then figure it out. You should be able to just will it to end.”
That option doesn’t work, and while I don’t expect my next choice to either, imagining the crystal shattering does the trick, and the pattern dissolves from around me.
“Move about more,” Ilya orders and waves at the icy rock around us. “You’re getting better, but moving silently on snow and ice is good practice.”
The downside of the soft boots makes itself known: lack of grip. The impact of landing on my arse jars up through my spine, and wing tips crack with stabbing pain that has me inhale frozen air. My first attempt to rise causes the bones to grind, and Teleport sets me upright. I keep myself hovering above the ice and my wings well away from the ground. With my weight no longer resting on them the breaks snap back into alignment and slivers of pain spear into my back.
“Let your weight down properly, ensuring you’re balanced throughout every step; gliding motions when you walk. That will lessen the noise, save embarrassment, and hopefully avoid death.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, do it better,” scolds Ilya. “Besides, I’m not the one that broke her bones.”
She keeps me at it for hours until, finally, another progress notification chimes in my brain.
[Stealth [B] (15->16)]
“You’re getting better quickly, but you’ve got a long way to go,” observes Ilya. “Put the chameleon effects back in place. We’re going up until we hit the ridgeline. What option do you have to avoid being seen if there is something that can see through the chameleon Spell?”
“Lying on my stomach, with my wings spread flat to keep their profile low?”
Ilya smiles, a brief flicker of one—I’m sure her lips twitch. “That will do. Another option is to find a location where you can peer around cover and keep your wings behind it, but these slopes don’t provide many opportunities to take that approach. Keep thinking about other options; I’ll tell you what I think of them.”
“Shall we continue up?”
“No, you need to practise moving into position as you suggested. Crawl around on your stomach and see how hard that is with your wings stretched out low.”
“Oh!”
“You thought I’d make you try it when you could get us both killed? Crawl upwards towards the top of this slope, figure out the quietest way.”
“This won’t be fun.”
“For one of us, at least.”
Following her instructions is miserable until I get Flight to hold me nose down just above the ice. Dragging myself along via nails gripping rock and ice, I make it about a metre with my wings flopping about awkwardly before Ilya’s finally had enough, and I catch the reprimand from her mind.
“In some places, Flight doesn’t work. Crawl.”
I go back to crawling, ice getting inside my armour adds to the joy, but eventually Mr Message gives me a sign of improvement.
[Stealth [B] (16->17)]
Yippee?!
Noting my distraction, Ilya gives a sharp flap of her wings, and I eat ice that tastes worse than dog farts.
More miserable practice only elicits a couple more reactions from Mr Message, but eventually, Ilya signals me to get up. Thirty jumps later I’m lying face down on the peak’s slope, and the view is inspiring in so many scary ways.
When Ilya had said Gate, the image that came to mind was the doorway she’d go through when called back to Hell, not what lies before us now. The wind carries flecks of ice with stinging force, but the sight beyond the mountain holds my attention. My eyesight shifted focus without a thought to make everything clear.
[Planar Portals (1->4)]
The closest edge is at least fifty kilometres away, but it's easy to spot even without the fiery power or malicious song. Pillars that would dwarf Centrepoint Tower surround the Gate’s event horizon, forming a skyscraper-sized version of Stonehenge surrounding a seething energy ball that could swallow the Sydney CBD. A constant stream of beings vomits from it, but their looming supervisor draws my focus.
He dwarfs the Human-sized demons nearby, standing at easily thirty or more metres. Roughly humanoid in form, a neanderthal’s sloped brow and dozens of interlocking fangs jutting from his maw. Instead of skin, dark crimson scales cover him from head to toe and slither metallically with a constant rasping noise with every shift in position. He moves about, careless of the bared sword held in one hand or the blazing whip coiled in the other. The music from him worms up my spine and breathes hotly into my mind, every note twisting cruelly across me.
An army isn’t the right term for the demons; they’re more a disorganised horde from beings that fly or move about on two legs or far too many to count. The only thing consistent between them is that they’re all intent on getting far from the giant, jostling like the nastiest fans in a mosh-pit seeking a position closer to the stage. Even from this distance, their music is a riptide of chaotic noise, offering to drag me under and never let go. A bass drum of power from the giant adds carloads of weight with every pulsing beat.
Ilya gripping my wrist with a bone-crushing force makes me realise I’d begun to whimper. “Hush up.”
Her words are barely a breath of sound, and I reestablish my touch on her mind. “Sorry.”
Trying to focus on only her music deadens the songs from below.
[Resonance [Ap](24->25)]
“Keep your focus off him if you can’t handle the fear he radiates; focus on the lesser demons. He’s a Named Tier Balor, which is just as well. No idea how big he’d grow if he was still Greater.”
The name rings a bell from Julia’s gaming but doesn’t match what she’d called a Balor, or was it a Balrog? “I thought they had wings.”
“Some do, some don’t; demons are consistently inconsistent.”
“How do you know what he is, then?”
“I’ll show you where to find the scouting reports next time we’re in Hell. Entities like him get logged, and seers find out details. There are reports about him on battlefields, working for Azi Dahaka, the Great Devourer; the troops’ banners show that hasn’t changed.”
With trillions of demons fielded, even commanders are a million to one—how many commanders would that be to remember?
“You’ve got the information memorised?”
“That’s part of a Scout’s job—know what’s important and learn more about it, plus anything new happening,” Ilya explains before turning her attention towards where the bulk of the troops was heading. “Staging post is off in that direction another few hundred kilometres. I wasn’t expecting to see this fellow, nor a horde. We won’t get closer this time, the scouts will be too thick on the ground near the staging post.”
“What next?”
“After more training I’ll take you to a small Portal that leads to a higher layer on this Plane. We’ll scout the other end of the Portal from the staging post to see if they’ve started to move troops through,” answers Ilya with barely a moment’s consideration.
“If some layers are infinite, like planes, why aren’t they just considered planes in their own right?” I ask and catch the exasperation in her thoughts. “You’ve mentioned the Abyss has multiple planes.”
“The dominant energy is identical between layers, only aspects of its presentation change. Consistent energy isn’t present within the Abyss; therefore, the Abyss has various planes. Teleport back to where we arrived.”
Imagining the savings in commuting time to work has me giggling on arrival.
When Ilya shows up, she gestures for me to reestablish our link. “Close your mouth. Those inane sounds of yours will carry a long way. Now focus on the mountain peak above the pass to Hell. What do you need to do after shifting back to Hades?”
“If I’m not above the peak, Teleport immediately to it?”
Ilya makes a little shooing gesture even as she replies. “Exactly. Now on your way.”
Picturing standing atop the peak’s familiar snowy vista, where Ilya had forced my Cold Resistance higher, Planar Shift’s song sweeps around me. The scenery skips away through blackness to release me into the grey sky of Hades.
[Planar Shift (Self) (11->12)]
The message distracts me from one slight issue; there isn’t anything for hundreds of kilometres beneath me. Plunging unprepared, the wind rips across me, forcing my wings to snap painfully open and twist them towards the point of dislocation. I’ve already endured worse in Ilya’s training, let alone the river, it's in my control here. Mentally pushing at Flight causes me to hover, and the pressure stops.
Though the wind stops yanking at them, my whole back feels on fire until energy starts to trickle beneath my skin. Its music drowns out the agony from my back, and wraps around the joints. Humming along to its notes, I try to push the music into myself the way I had caused the snow avalanche above Hell’s Gate. The trickle turns into a burst of cool relief, and Mr Message seems to signal his approval.
[Improved Regeneration [Ap](20->21)
True Song [Ap](4->5)]
Teleport puts me atop the peak, and Ilya’s already there waiting. Though she appears outwardly unimpressed, her music chirps upwards, offering strangely cheerful notes.
“Where did you end up?”
“Up!”
As she opens her mouth to growl, I raise a hand and wave towards the grey cloud above us. “Somewhere up there.”
“Well then, let's see how you are after a few hundred more tries,” grumbles Ilya; ice and rock smoothly replaces the peak’s snow.
“Shouldn’t you have reported about the forces?”
The question in her mind has Ilya regard me with surprise, and a smile twitches on her lips. “Those aren’t my orders. I’ve got to give you a tour, remember? Since you need to visit them at will, mastering this Skill is important. Back you go!”
This time I lift myself with Flight before Planar Shift skips me away, and I find myself in the open sky again. It stops me from falling, which is just as well, since beneath me isn’t clear. A few hundred metres below, regiments of Hell’s forces stand ready to re-enforce a section of the outer wall. Beyond it, I can hear the screaming melodies of thousands of demonic breeds. Hundreds of ramshackle siege towers are barely an arrow shot from the ramparts. Already the air is thick with the erinys’ arrows, each enfolded with a different energy song from the enchantments within their bows.
Hell’s catapults and other siege engines thrum with kinetic force, throwing millions of munitions, from loose cannisters of man-sized spears to oils that freeze and churn against the surrounding air when they’re hurled towards the approaching force.
Teleports sets me at the peak, and Ilya doesn’t even give me a chance to speak but shifts us again. The frozen rock of this planetoid is friendlier than the freezing energy within Hell’s oils.
Through my mental touch, I update her before she can interrupt. “An army is attacking a section of the outer wall.”
“I know there is an attack, I looked at the banners,” retorts Ilya before she considers my words and softens her mental voice. “Alright, how close were you to the fighting?”
“Maybe a kilometre away?”
“Your accuracy is horrible; this might take longer than I’d thought. Go!”
Days of back and forth eventually leave me mentally exhausted. Though I’ve started occasionally arriving near the peak, those occasions have been fewer than I would have preferred. Handling open skies is one thing, but I’ve had too many near-ground-level arrivals among infernal hosts that almost triggered attacks, so my nerves are fraying with no break allowed.
I open my mouth to protest, but before I get a word out, we’re standing beneath trees that drape us with shadows. The Outlands' lovely song ringing through me elicits a noisy sigh of pure relief that draws a snort from Ilya.
“This is the precision you want. Now bow out and through the Gate. Never assume the other side is safe.”
“More combat practice?”
Ilya shakes her head, and motions me to move though. “After.”
“After what?”
“After I teach you basic sword techniques. Hopefully, by that time you’re not looking cross-eyed.”
“A soak in the pond first?” I ask quickly. “I still have slime coating my boobs from Agathys’ ice melting in my armour.”
Her lips purse to snap No, but then she stops. “What’s your Planar Shift at now?”
“Last increase was Apprentice fifteen.”
“That’s starting to slow down, but a vast improvement from where you started. Alright, you get time to bathe before sword fundamentals.”
Her words come out with a teasing lightness, but they still make me wonder what drills she’ll be pushing me through next.
The bow blazes with the white light, and its usual twisting chaotic melody rings across my awareness. My profile says I’m Hidden, and the bow’s outer sheath hides a far different inner core. I’m unsure if Resonance's improvement or something else lets me pick out more details in the powerful and complicated tune beneath its surface.
Stepping lightly through the Gate, we’re in the ice tunnel with no danger in sight, but Ilya’s music strains with low notes that raise the hairs across the back of my neck.
“Fly up to the entrance. I’ll meet you there.”
Ilya disappears, and I’ve barely made the first bend when I hear an eerie wind howling towards me. It makes me realise she didn’t say how many drills she intends before the sword fundamentals.
“Bitch!”
