Super Genetics
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B2 - Chapter 29: Lord of Ice
🕑 Added 2024-10-16 18:56:00 +0000 UTCThe man regarded him with a single raised brow. A large animal pelt rest across his shoulders and hooded over his head, the upper jaw of one of the polar bear looking animals across his forehead.
He understood now why they’d all thought the man was a monster. Only Al’Ruzan and Mara-Lin-Jaid had seen him up close and they’d obviously been scared for their life at the time.
Without a single word, the man rose to his full height and slipped the fur cloak off his shoulders, laying it on a peg jutting from the nearby wall.
At first glance, he’d thought the monster had been almost eight feet tall. But seeing him without his cloak, he realized that the animal head had added nearly a foot in height.
Still, the man was massive for a human—as large as Al’Ruzan, which was saying something.
As he watched him clearly get comfortable inside his own home, Terry wondered what in the Underworld he was doing.
Get outta here, dummy. Figure out this mystery later.
He began reaching with his aura, searching for the surface to step through space, when his eyes caught on something in the man’s hands.
“Hey, give that back!”
As much as he tried to inject an aura of command in his voice, it still managed to sound more petulant than anything.
Either way, the man ignored him, turning the Aura Filtering Container that held the Singularity with open curiosity.
He tried to stand, but another wave of dizziness took him. He must have been concussed to try and physically take the device back from the man who had beat Al’Ruzan so soundly. Coming to his senses finally, he reached across the space separating them and wrapped a portal around the cube. At the same time, he found the surface and prepared to teleport.
But as his portal encompassed the cube, it enveloped the man’s hand too. No matter how he tried to separate the cube from the man, he found unyielding resistance.
His portal back to the surface coalesced, but he hesitated. Did he leave the cube and live to fight another day? Or pull out all the stops and force the man to part with it?
Instinct drew him toward the portal—he could always sneak back in and take the cube. Or, the six of them—as a team—could storm this cave and take it by force.
But as he considered fleeing, he couldn’t help but note the severe lack of urgency in the man’s expression or body language. He simply held the cube—still inside the portal—and watched Terry, as if waiting to see what he decided.
Terry had the sudden realization that he couldn’t take the cube back, even if he did surprise or ambush the man. He’d been too preoccupied—or too concussed—to register the man’s aura at first. But now that he’d taken a moment to breath, he realized that this was the aura of an A-ranker.
The rational side of him was screaming to cut his losses and run. There would be time to game plan and retrieve the Singularity at some point. But something deep inside of him felt at ease in the man’s presence. There was no hint of anger or aggression in his posture or aura. He wasn’t giving back the cube but he also wasn’t forcing Terry to stick around either.
That, more than anything, convinced him to stay.
“Who are you?” he asked, dropping the portal engulfing the man’s hand. “Why have you been terrorizing my friends?”
The man raised a single eyebrow. Terry realized that just because he was human, didn’t mean he was from Earth.
“Sorry, do you speak English?”
He ignored Terry, turning away and placing the cube in a pocket. Rather than press the issue, Terry took the moment to examine his surroundings closer.
The cave they were in had all the markings of a long-term dwelling. Shelves were cut into the rock walls, adorned with various trinkets that were shaped of bone, wood, and metal. There was a bowl and a plate to one side with a pitcher beside them. On the other side of the cave, a fire burned bright in a hearth, the smoke rising through a flume that extended up into the ceiling.
One of the dire wolf’s legs was positioned over that fire on a spit and the man moved to rotate it silently. The remainder of the dire wolf lay to the side in the dirt.
Terry stared at the man’s broad back, wondering how to navigate this awkward situation. While the man wasn’t being hostile, he had knocked Terry unconscious and dragged him into his home.
A bevy of questions flashed in his mind. Why did you kidnap me? Why have you been taking our food? Who are you?
But for some reason, he suspected those questions would all be met with silence.
He took the time to look at the messages that had rolled in while he was unconscious. There was an obvious panic among the others and they were now speculating about his death in the Team chat.
[Terry]: Hey, I’m alive!
[Juan Carlos]: Terry! Thank God!
[Chippy]: What happened?
[Py Dar]: Where are you?
[Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: Can you get away?
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: What were you thinking!
The messages came in a loose jumble, each speaking over the other as they tried to get answers from him. As he watched the man turn the spit, he couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied—he didn’t yet have the answers to give.
[Terry]: I’m fine. The monster isn’t actually a monster. He’s human it seems. And other than kidnapping me, he doesn’t seem to be hostile. I’m going to see if I can’t get some answers.
The messages that followed were all over the map. Mara-Lin-Jaid scolded him for being a reckless idiot and demanded he come back. Al’Ruzan told him to be on guard and not underestimate the enemy. Juan was still hung up on the fact that the monster they’d been so terrified of was actually human. Py and Chippy simply expressed concern.
But there was an air to the man that suggested he wouldn’t attack. Which made his kidnapping all the more confusing.
“Why did you knock me out?” Terry asked. “And why didn’t you just leave me out there to die?”
The man didn’t respond, but Terry saw his ears twitch almost imperceptibly. Had that been understanding or an instinctual reaction to Terry’s voice?
Before he could think to ask more questions, the man pulled the spit off the fire and placed it on a table carved directly into the stone wall. Then he moved to the dire wolf corpse.
Terry watched in confusion as the man gripped one leg and began dragging it toward the cave exit. He turned a corner and was out of sight in moments. A part of him considered just leaving but the man had the Singularity. He warred within himself for a few moments, then shot to his feet and followed after him.
He was surprised to see that the exit didn’t lead to the surface but instead out to a tunnel leading in either direction. The tunnel was dark, only the fire behind him casting any light. But he was able to spot the man’s back and hear the corpse dragging behind him down the right-hand tunnel.
Following behind, he sped up in order to catch the man. This was still alien territory and if his run in with those insects from last week had taught him anything, it was that he didn’t know what lay in wait beneath the surface. He’d rather stick close to his kidnapper than be left alone in the pitch black tunnels.
As he approached from behind, the man cast him a disinterested look as he marched forward. Then, he stopped and held out the dire wolf’s limb.
“If you’re gonna follow, make yourself useful.”
Terry’s mouth gaped open at the words, his eyes flicking to the outstretched hand, then back to the man’s face. It took him a few brain-addled moments before his mouth caught up to his thoughts.
“You-you speak English?”
The man looked pointedly down at the wolf leg he was handing over. Terry reacted out of a desperate need to glean more information from the man; he grasped the dire wolf’s ankle and looked up expectantly.
The man turned away and continued walking, Terry following behind with the dragging corpse.
“Yes, I speak English.”
The man’s voice had dusky quality to it, as if the words were long buried relics he’d had to dig up.
Terry waited expectantly for the follow up response, but the man seemed content to simply walk in silence.
“You really gonna just leave it at that? No answers on why you kidnapped me. No questions on why I’m here? Nothing?”
The man didn’t respond for another few moments and Terry felt his impatience begin to boil inside of him. But just as he was about to press him for more, the man stopped and turned toward Terry.
“My answer is the same as your answer.” He held out the Singularity cube. “This is why I brought you back and this is why you’re in this realm at all.” Turning away, he tucked the cube back into a pocket. “Now stay quiet. We’re entering their territory.”
Terry bristled at the command, then processed the man’s words.
Territory? Whose territory? he wondered.
But he had his answer soon enough.
The tunnel opened up into a long cavern that stretched into the distance. To either side, doorways were embedded in regular intervals, carved directly into the stone.
And turning to watch the two of them, were dozens of ghouls.
Terry stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, dumbstruck by the sudden attention they were receiving and the revelation that this was a ghoulish city. The ghouls watching them were unlike those of Wichita; they wore ivory jewelery, belts with tools or weapons, and he even spotted one ghoul working at a forge.
The man didn’t wait for Terry to process the moment. He stepped forward, passing through the center of the city without hesitation. Terry, standing alone and holding onto the dire wolf, hurried to catch up.
As they strode forward, the ghouls on either side continued to study them and Terry was fascinated to feel the aura bouncing around the cavern. Entire conversations were being had in silence—curiosity at his presence, trepidation at the man Terry followed, and celebration at the sight of the dire wolf.
That was when he realized the meat the man had been taking from Al’Ruzan wasn’t for him, but for these ghouls.
Tribute or charity?
As they walked, he saw a large bas relief carved into the far wall. The figures it depicted were hard to decipher but they surrounded a large double doorway that was guarded by two ghouls wielding ivory spears.
He itched to ask the man about that—he’d never seen a ghoul use a weapon other than their bone-claws—but the double doors creaked open and the moment passed.
Two robed liches came into view, flanking a giant ghoul wearing a bone-white torc around his neck. Back home, he knew that the ghoul leaders wore golden torcs, and he wondered at the cultural differences between Crunch’s people and these ghouls.
The elite ghoul and his two liches strode down a set of stone stairs, meeting them at the bottom. The ghoul moved with a lithe grace and deadly ease that made Terry’s hair rise on the back of his neck. His aura was palpable as they approached and Terry guessed that the ghoul was roughly on par strength-wise with the mysterious man at his side.
Aura shifted between the group, the liches, ghoul leader, and the man bending their auras into familiar greeting shapes. For a moment, Terry considered revealing his understanding and shaping his own greeting, but decided against it; the man hadn’t been forthcoming in the slightest, so why should he?
The man spoke to the three undead in very capable ghoulish, blending aura and the spoken tongue in a way that suggested he had been here for quite some time.
Terry translated the words and aura in his head.
“Another offering to the Bloodsplatter Clan,” the man said, indicating the dire wolf corpse with a hand.
Inside, Terry gasped; this was the Clan they’d been tasked to help.
“Very generous, Lord of Ice,” the lich on the left replied. “How can the Bloodsplatter Clan repay you?”
Terry felt the ghoul leader’s eyes—and aura—land on him, and he looked up to meet his gaze. Everything about the ghoul reminded him of the golden-torc ghoul back home; his human-like eyes, powerful limbs, and stifling aura. He felt the appraising regard and returned a respectful, but uncowed look back.
“Your grace and hospitality for me and the other outsiders is payment enough,” the man—Lord of Ice, apparently—replied. He began to say something else, but the ghoul’s aura shifted in a way that cut him off.
“And this one?”
Judging from the aura and the narrowed look toward Terry, he guessed the ghoul was referring to him.
The man waved a hand dismissively.
“The newest outsider to join the others. He’s weak and not useful for much—besides carrying meat.” The man shifted his aura to indicate he’d been making an idle joke, but the ghoul never took his pinning gaze from Terry’s eyes.
“He seems unconcerned for someone new to our world.” The ghoul stepped forward and Terry felt his heart skip a beat. “Give me the offering, outsider.”
He had to stop himself from instinctively handing the corpse over, instead turning to the man with a confused expression.
“Give it to him,” he replied curtly in English.
Terry affected a churlish tone to distract from his near slip up, grumbling under his breath as he reached forward to hand off the wolf. “Would a please kill you?”
The ghoul’s hand stretched out, slick red skin brushing against Terry’s fingers as he took the corpse. He hefted the hundreds of pounds of meat effortlessly, depositing it beside him.
“Our new spawnling is ravenous.” The ghoul flicked his eyes toward the man. “Extra meat would go far toward our continued friendship.”
Terry cut his gaze up, reading the man’s reaction at the sudden turn of events. The disinterested shrug he gave in response did little to put Terry at ease.
“Fine by me.”
The ghoul tilted his head with a predatory gaze and Terry felt his stomach flip. He prepared a portal—close, anything to get him out of this spider’s web.
A wave of aura splashed out, bouncing between the man and the undead. In his panic, he didn’t immediately translate the emotions, completing his portal with a flex of intent. But as space parted, he realized what had just passed between them and he groaned.
They’d been laughing at him.
“Didn’t tell me you understood ghoulish,” the man said in English.
Terry, sensing that he was in no danger, let the portal drop.
“You haven’t been exactly forthcoming yourself,” he replied. He switched to ghoulish. “And nobody asked.”
The ghoul leader’s eyes twinkled and Terry felt a wave of respect from the liches at his side.
“Odd dialect,” one lich said.
“One of the southern clans, perhaps?” the other added.
“He just arrived?” the ghoul asked.
Terry looked up to see the man studying him with renewed interest. He stayed silent for a few moments before turning back to the ghoul.
“Yes.”
“Where did you learn our language?” the first lich asked softly.
Terry glanced between the four of them, his mind racing. Was there any reason to lie? The man still hadn’t revealed anything of himself. Who knew how he’d feel about Wichita or my grandfather?
He decided to fish for more information before revealing too much.
“Where I come from,” he replied in ghoulish, “it’s polite to introduce yourself first. I was led to believe it’s the same among the undead.”
A ripple of surprise shifted among the liches and their ghoul leader, then quickly turned to humor.
“You are correct,” the ghoul said. His aura shaped itself, spearing forward. Terry saw a brief impression of a blood-coated blade stabbing just as the ghoul’s aura had.
Crimson Spear? he guessed. His translation felt right but before he could ask, the two liches offered their names through their aura.
The one who had spoken first elicited images of the sun flashing on snow, which he roughly translated as Snow Glare. The second lich’s aura made him think of roots burying deep past the soil and Terry dubbed him Deep Root.
Then, to Terry’s surprise, the man offered his own aura-shaped name.
A blizzard raged in his mind, sleet and ice ripping through the air, cutting everything in its path. And at the center of the storm, calm reined. There, the man stood casually, his arms raised as if orchestrating the blizzard itself.
He started to translate the images, then a realization short-circuited his thoughts.
“You’re the one causing the snowstorm on the surface!”
The man didn’t react, his face remaining placid.
“Where I come from,” the man said evenly, “it’s polite to introduce yourself first.”
Any other time, Terry might have been annoyed to have his own words thrown back at him. But all he could think about were the implications of this man being the cause of the storm that had kept the others isolated in their cave for so many months.
The man raised an eyebrow expectantly and Terry tabled those thoughts.
“I don’t have a ghoulish name,” he admitted. “But my name is Terry.”
The man seemed to mull that over for a moment before coming to a decision.
“You can call me Ben.”
