AbyssalRoadTrip
patreon
Chained - 15
🕑 Added 2022-04-04 18:25:13 +0000 UTCThe crunching of ice and snow underfoot while I move in the already fading sunlight sets an odd sensation across my skin. Memories of snow trips, home and abroad, icy wind scouring flesh, and the welcome warmth of the ski lodge’s fireplace.
Cold. I can’t even tell when it should sink its teeth into someone now, and my immunity to fire makes it the same. The extremes that would kill mortals lifted from me, the same as pain, all now meaningless.
What defines us more, what we have or what we’ve lost?
I’d never considered my immunities anything but a necessary gift. But are they doubled-edged, like every Hell gift and my ready acceptance before an act of dangerous ignorance?
Inger looks comfortable in the snow amid the gusting wind, but it has Gaius hunching inwards from time to time. The mortal reaction is in an old familiar gesture of winter days biting in hard, and just underscores my earlier considerations.
“The sun is already setting,” Gaius notes, interrupting my thoughts and another answer to Inger, comparing what I know of classes to their concept of paths.
Turning, I just point towards the sky and a push of my senses gives me a telescope’s perspective of the planet. “And Mars has been perfectly visible all day, isn’t that grand? But we’ve only had three hours of sun today.”
I should have pushed my Time Sense harder on the trip here, maybe I’d have the time accurate to a minute.
Inger looks across from the far side of the broad staircase we’ve been experimenting with, only sparing a quick glance in the direction I had pointed. “What?”
“The red planet, Mars, the fourth rock from the sun, whatever you want to call it.”
“Every culture has different names for it, but Titus will be pleased you call it Mars, I’m sure.”
“Why do you call it Mars?” asks Gaius, and I hesitate a fraction too long when his curiosity spikes. “I thought you’d never been here?”
“Just because I’ve never been here doesn’t mean I don’t know things. I’ve recognised your northern plants among other things with memories gained from my heritage.”
I don’t know what’s going on, but bubbling and churning memories tell me far too much. Canadian ski trips and a tour during the arctic summer. This landscape, the trees after Martialis had transported us, the more I consider it the more it’s impossibly like the north-east of Canada. In Eternal map the arc of shoreline we first travelled along is shaped so similarly to the western edge of Hudson Bay.
Beyond my own recollections, strange memories suddenly hit and bite. A voice singing a True Song that brightens the area with sheer power. Her weight is nothing, but I can feel her every shift perched upon my spine, swaying to the music beyond what she shares with me. The shifting beauty of the northern lights caught in her wordless aria.
Senses sharper than I possess now show me the sun’s energy streaming through what I know is a magnetic field. Within the Dragon’s memories, I consider them odd natural barriers, no more unusual than the icy ground currently crushed beneath talons. It’s the strange light show that is the only thing here that warrants further thought with the sun’s power putting on a majestic display.
“I told you they were beautiful Shindraithra. You’ll never truly forget this evening, I’m sure.”
Words in a lilting Elvish—different from either dialect I’ve learnt—leapt up from memory as her singing stops. My perspective shifts as in the memory my head turns on a long neck. The perspective changes from the looking across the frozen ground, up towards the writhing lights in the sky towards the being on my back. Instead, I look over the liquid silver scales along my flank, a torso the size of a football field, and gargantuan wings are no surprise within my memory. Yet to me it is a shock: adamantine. How do I have a memory of a Dragon-breed normally only found on the higher planes?
A mortal thinking to treat me like a mount would perish in an instant. But the golden-skinned Anar, with electric-blue hair balancing effortlessly atop the scales on my back isn’t that. Despite the wind capable of freezing most Elven forms solid, she dances in a tight circle wearing only pants that don’t reach her knees and an almost sheer top. Her clothing looks as if chosen to display the tattoos they’d set in place since I’d seen her last.
“You should have just killed him before his lackeys branded you. Why did you let your granddaughter marry him? He fears your strength, I’m sure you hear that from his Song. Despite all the rebirths that have allowed his base classes to improve, he still can’t match your strength.”
The woman spins in a form that appears a dance, but if she’d a blade in hand, anything close to her would be dead. Even as she flows about, her reply comes back to my mind.
“I know things he does not, and things I’ve never shared. Father had weighted the scales for me with millennia of training before this realm began, along with providing the rules. Until others discover them, they’re playing with inferior instruments.”
“What do you know?”
“I’ll share it with your eldest child, Shindraithra. The rules of classes and what’s required to touch the greatest heights.”
“Why not with me?”
Frustration sears within the words that I push into her mind, but she fearlessly leans forward to pat my snout despite that I could swallow her whole.
“I would if father allowed me, but even with the oath between us three, it’s not your fate to know in this lifetime. You’d already progressed past the point it would be of full use in the time they had me imprisoned; hence why he wants me to hold off. You’ve grown so much. What have you been eating?”
Her cooing delight is sappier than my mother’s and drains the edge from my temper. Yet from the memory, the curve of her lips and the gleam in her eyes, punches me hard.
Julia.
The Elf’s vibrant glee grinds up hard across the memories of my friend and stirs different questions: who is the third? And what oath?
“Sidero?” Gaius’ scent matches the confusion in his tone.
“I was thinking. Does anyone possess maps of this world?”
Inger and Gaius exchange a glance before Inger speaks up. “Maybe the Dwarves or the Sunset Elves. Why?”
“I like to learn things and while this place looks familiar. I’d like to know for sure.”
“So that spot in the sky might not be what you think it is. Are you wrong about classes as well?”
“I told you Hell names what you call paths, classes. Maybe they’re not right, or maybe it doesn’t matter what you call them, but do you want to know what I sense from you?”
[Name: Inger
Species: Human (Norse Decent)
Class: Snow Maiden / Ice Walker / Long Strider
Health: 4,120
Defence: 504
Faith: 167
Magic: 161
Mana: 115,236
Melee Attack Power: 101
Ranged Attack Power: 210
Combat Skills: Dagger [Ad] (2), Broadsword [Ad] (2), Recurve Bow [M] (24), Long Axe [M](33); Various Blessings.
Details: Gnarls seized most of her village in an assault that left her orphaned afterwards a Skaði priestess, Brynja Skycleave, raised her. She gained the Snow Maiden Prestige Class by combining Priest and Ranger at level 50.
]
[Ice Walker:
This is a specialised Priest class for those serving Skaði. Among other benefits, it increases cold themed blessings, and tolerance for extremes of cold. While they serve faithfully, snow and ice of all types will always support their weight and provide them with a sure footing.]
[Long Strider:
This is an improved Ranger base class, available to priests of Skaði, and others serving nature-based patrons. It provides powers and skills that improve the Ranger’s combat skills, and insights against preferred foes and enables travel more easily through all weather, natural or otherwise.]
Her levels are a reminder of the Infernal paperwork I’d seen a Devil filling out, that I’m glad Mother’s treaty doesn’t make us follow. Permission forms and an accreditation process, aka bribes, all required to take a decent Prestige Class, no thanks.
“Very well.”
“Inger, your High Priest Class is called Snow Maiden, you combined Priest and Ranger at level fifty for it. Which was a mistake! While I’ll grant you progress slows a lot at that point, you should feel stupid for jumping at the first decent tier you got. I know of Prestige classes that exist at least level seventy—for those in Hell at least.”
Inger reacts like I’d goosed her at my account of her details.
“How can you tell—I thought you said Hell takes imprint or whatever you called it?”
“Mother can tell someone’s classes from their merest smudge of blood.”
“You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Which part?”
Her glance roams over me, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her brain, along with light bulbs flashing. “That if we talk to you as we would anyone else and you’ll happily share general information. Though if what you say is true, that’s not general information, it’s valuable information.”
“That doesn’t help you unless you’re willing to put in the hard work. Maybe I’m telling you about them for my benefit. We’ll be killing lots of things together. If you’re stronger, then they’ll get dead faster, or at least I won’t have to worry about doing all the fighting.”
“I’m still not sure what really to make of you, Sidero,”
“That okay, let me help you out there,” I purr, and give her a smile with too many teeth showing.
Inger’s justified spike of suspicion doesn’t stop the question from spilling from her lips. “How?”
“Gaius, you up for some coitus?”
She goes so red I could use her face as a hotplate, and I can’t help but laugh. Though I’m not sure if it’s her embarrassment or Gaius’ spike of lust that amuses me more.
“I think we should get back to the others before it’s fully dark,” sputters Inger.
“Sorry Gaius, seems Inger’s vetoing fun, maybe once I’ve carved some quarters.”
“Being out of the cold would be better,” mumbles Gaius, his dry tone has me bent in two with laughter thumping a fist into my thigh.
Inger hurries back towards the camp, her stride unaffected by the snow. Dropping out two metal plates, I motion Gaius onto one and lift us both aloft. My control lets us quickly flank her, but the pale priestess is still so red-faced she doesn’t even look my way. “No lover caught your eye in the past?”
She stiffens at my question even though she doesn’t stop moving, scenting the air with wounds and pain. I know I once would have been sorry to ask, but her scent is so delicious I have to rein in my instincts to ask another. It’s right there on the tips of my tongue to dig and pry, to wound her for the scent that will trigger a warmth of pleasure through me. I have to take a mental step away and slid a spiked tip hard against my hip bone to hold the urge away. The pleasure twists the temptation aside as my nub throbs for attention.
“My apologies.”
“What?” snaps Inger, turning back in apparent disbelief. “What did you just say?”
“My apologies for the question. That wasn’t a casual conversation topic, and I apologise for the pain it caused, it was unintended. A bit of embarrassment is one thing, the pain I smelt from you another.”
Her nostrils twitch in anger for a moment before she takes a deep breath to calm herself and stops in surprise. “Why are you bleeding?”
“When I smelt your pain, my instincts were to hurt you more. I had to distract myself from doing so. Since my body always craves pleasure, cutting myself was the quickest way to distract my instincts. If I’d scented more pain from you, it would have brought pleasure, but my own pain is a stronger pleasure,”
Inger stops in confusion, her surprise wiping out her embarrassment and pain. “You are the strangest being I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks, you say the sweetest things!”
Rather than stop, I keep moving us towards camp, leaving Inger to hurry to catch up.
I’ve barely started down the slope when Martialis comes out to let us past the camp wards, and his focus is fixed on me. “Have you learnt enough to craft an initial threshold and some chambers?”
Within the wards, most of the expedition are present, with only Senca and Titus absent when Inger catches up.
“I could craft a few to get us started. Why?”
“There is a storm that will start up shortly that you might not be able to taste yet. It’s going to snow us in. Also, the quicker you set the basics of a home, the faster I can send the girls back home. Janus’ blessings for journeys are stronger the more symbolic power they can draw on.”
I don’t mention its going to be a worse blizzard than the last, since he’s trying to be helpful, and doing far better than Vitus.
“Threshold, hearth, and resting places equal a home more than a campfire and a shit pit.”
The muscles in Martialis’ jaw tighten for a moment before he responds. “Such an elegant way to put it.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m in a cheerful mood. Either I’m not a liar or Mithras can’t keep it up. Ready to leap to his defence Vitus, or just want to admit you don’t know everything.”
“Shut up, whorish Hellspawn!”
“Make me, you little backstabbing cunt,” I growl and let the chains jingle as I stalk the edge of the camp towards where he’s set himself up.
“Are you going to keep at him for his crimes for the entire decade?” asks Horatia, looking up laying out supplies for the ‘evening’ meal. Despite Vitus’ noise the girls don’t even take their curious gazes from the food preparations—they have their priorities right it seems.
“No, he can just write on the bottom of the contract that he fully accepts Gaius’ debt as his own. If he does that, I’ll let him off nicely,” I reply.
“What are you talking about?” asks Vitus, eyes going wider with every step I take towards him.
Giving him a broad smile, I almost growl. “Gaius’ scroll with the contract. Like all Hell’s contracts, another can assume the debt.”
“You only raise this now,” Vitus sneers. “Do you think anyone is going to believe you?”
Motioning towards the setting sun, the smile I share with him makes it clear I’m considering biting out his throat. “Like any of you would have believed me. But I think that’s pretty good proof that I’ve told the truth about a variety of subjects. What, we had maybe three hours of daylight today? In two or three weeks, there is likely going to be next to none.”
Stepping past him I press a minion into the chains to defend me if I’m attacked. It’s an act of provocation but I set to considering the slope due north of us. Disappointingly he doesn’t take advantage of the opening, and I cut out a curved section of the slope, complete with broad curved amphitheatre steps.
“Doesn’t even have the courage given to rats.”
Titus clears his throat when he steps through the wards from the north. “I think it’s better if you two just don’t talk to each other ever again.”
“You’re going to take away all my fun. What’s next, no orgasming in front of anyone? Besides, I’m pretty sure I could get him furious with me without saying a word directly to him. Did you enjoy the extensive daylight today, Titus? Did it inspire you about the work we’re doing way up here? Maybe Mithras’ time has already passed if he can’t keep it up for longer than three hours.”
[Seed Doubts (7->9)]
“SHUT UP!”
The scream comes from the bottom of Vitus’ boots, but he freezes when my chains rattle threateningly, making far too much noise without my direct control.
“See? I didn’t even say a word directly to him.”
“You’re a menace, Sidero,” Senca states having come in on the end of my speech but well in time to catch the gist, I’m sure.
Giving him a cheerful smile, I try to brighten my tone with my best optimist impersonation. “And you’re a lecherous piece of shit.”
“You give me an apology and then you immediately come in here and start trouble. Did it twist your stomach in knots offering it?” asks Inger.
“No, my stomach’s fine. Thanks for asking Inger. I’d been thinking about my little speech to Vitus for some time. I just had to dumb it down a bit.”
Setting out the grillwork across the—as yet—unlit firepit, Horatia shakes her head. “For someone dedicated to Order you sure like throwing the camp into disorder.”
“To me, Order isn’t just allowing folk to prosper for stabbing others in the back. Or is that a Roman thing?” I ask, and have to hold back my laughter, wondering if they had a Caesar event.
“Now that is an odd attitude for a D-” says Quinctus, cutting off the moment I look his way. “-a creature from Hell.”
“True Order requires balance otherwise it’s just pieces of shit twisting the rules to their own ends,” I retort, and turn my attention to Martialis instead. “How many rooms did you want?”
“There should be at least four if you include an anteroom just inside the threshold,” replies Martialis quickly, smelling like he’s happy for a change in subject. “For the best effect, I’ll need to put a small shrine to Janus there.”
“That will not be possible. I’ll need ready access to the exterior as I carve the place out.”
“Perhaps a fifth room then, so I can set a shrine there.”
I resist the urge to grind my teeth and glance at Gaius. “I’d prefer the shrines to be on a level down from the surface. Why don’t you have something to eat while I get started? After I’ve got some narrow corridors cut, we can expand them into reinforced chambers using the runes.”
Titus gives the three of us an assessing look, not even sparing Inger from his drill sergeant gaze. “Care to share with the rest of us?”
“Not me.”
With that, I set about ignoring the conversation and my continued urge to kill Vitus. I’d use the excuse of his behaviour, but it’s like the feeling of Draconic instincts, like my Mother’s memories. My instincts say he needs to die, and besides the fact he was involved in setting up someone to sell their soul, I’ve no idea why. That’s disregarding the fact I dislike him because he’s a smug, annoying cunt, as I’ve dealt with plenty of those in Hell. Heck, I’ve even fucked a few of them to piss off their colleagues.
Focusing on the task at hand, I move around the side of the hill and cut the steps downwards until they’re nearly two metres below the gully’s level. Though I can only hope that leaves plenty of tolerance in the hilltop. On the last landing, I set a doorway into the back wall, leaving a proper riser for the threshold and include a framed border around the edges. Symbolic to me is hopefully enough for Janus’ purposes as well.
The extraction makes me feel like I’m playing my cousin’s Minecraft. At the backend of the anteroom I cut a corridor that doglegs towards the marker that I can feel from this distance. First so the wind won’t howl straight down the corridor, and second, so the corridor allows nothing that makes it inside an immediate line of sight.
One section after another, I cut out barely the width of my shoulders. Whenever Inventory complains, I drop the flat sections well out away from the camp and begin again. By the time they’re done with food, I’ve set up narrow passages along the boundary of eight decent sized bedrooms. I positioned these in staggered pattern along the corridor, after leaving a defensible gap past the anteroom, with a larger common room at the end. At the furthest point in, I can tell I’m still not under the spike I’d left marking the gate’s point atop the hill.
Crouching by the cookfire’s edge, I duplicate the corridors with a model cut from the excess Permafrost I’ve not yet tossed.
“One bedroom each, plus one for the girls, and a common room once we secure the exterior walls and excavate the interior of each of these areas. Each room’s floor-to-ceiling space should be at least arm’s reach taller than me, with the same between each layer, to avoid feeling too close or risk collapse. Next level down, you can have your shrines. Level below that, we can have Gaius’ workshop, materials storerooms, and hopefully we’ll have space to set up defensive positions around the Gate. The main issue, since Gaius can reinforce the walls and ceilings to avoid collapse is whatever gaps, caves, etc exist but I’ve not hit any yet”
“How are you going to avoid our shrines if you put them between the living quarters and the gate? Though I guess the question is: why do you need a bedroom?”
“I can think of fun things to do in a bedroom Quinctus, but consider it my private space,” I retort quickly, and smell the surge of embarrassment from Inger. “As for your first question, circular staircase, offset somewhat from below the spike: I was going to take them straight down. Depending on what we find we can divide up the space available with passageways out from landings along the way.”
Titus taps the opposite side of the model without a word and speaks up only when I motion for him to spill. “Don’t take them all the way down. Offset them between the level where you place the workshop and storage rooms. At least enough to allow space to place defensive measures in case something gets through the Gate.”
“I should also then make sure nothing can get directly from the Gate to the Workshop.”
“Won’t the forge produce too much smoke to put beneath us?” asks Horatia.
“No, the forge doesn’t need fuel. It’s a magical flame that doesn’t emit smoke unless I’m intentionally burning material in the flame.”
“I’d suggest cutting another room in the slope here,” Titus adds, pointing to the other side of the gully in which we’re camped presently.
Suppressing a laugh, I just give him a bemused look. “In case someone needs a time out?”
“No, just in case you bring back remains that need space to prepare. You can set a bigger chamber there,” Titus says, motioning at the other hill again.
“What sort of bigger remains are we going to need to handle?”
“The sort of materials that come from creatures that I hope we don’t face until we’re far stronger,” Titus answers with a smile. I can’t help but offer a toothy grin since I’ve no objections to getting stronger. “Hopefully, they’ll be things you can carry as you did that, Remorhaz. Do you still have it?”
“Of course, I do,” I quickly reply, and offer him a tooth I extract from Inventory and let it disappear the moment he reaches for it.
“Yet another reason to have a preparation chamber. Maybe one we can seal, so if the wind shifts, it doesn’t fill the bedroom with the stench of corpses. Though that shouldn’t be a problem in the big white room, but some things from where we’re finding playmates might rot—even out here.”
Titus looks over the model and points a finger at its start. “The gap between the anteroom and the first bedroom we should look to set additional wards.”
“Whatever security options you want to put in place,” I remark with a shrug and give Gaius a smile. “Do you think this will be a quickie to set up?”
Comments
Glenn Wright
Well, that's one way you can read it. :)
StormyAngel
Knowing what we know from the main series, it almost sounds like Amdirlain's past life was well aware that Shindraithra and she would be leaving and then returning to this realm as Sidero and Amdirlain some day. Hmm...*Conspiracy theories intensify*
