Chained - 16

The northern lights danced across the sky, greens with hints of red. It's a sight that I remember from my Mortal life. Yet it's like so many things; it's the same but different. On that trip, I’d needed a digital SLR to see them so distinctly; here, with new regular sight, they are so bright—a push of my Wyrm Senses and the colour shifts close to the Dragon’s memories. Minute increments of colour shift, tones become crisp, and solar radiation illuminates the bands of magnetic force.

“Sidero.”

Gaius had moved towards the entry and turned back when I hadn’t followed. Though tempted to ask who held the leash, I’d never been a switch. Rather than immediately going across the threshold, he stops hard and begins carving from the top of the steps, sweeping the snow away with his bare hand. A repeating pattern of intricate runes that he’s quick to explain will keep them solid, ensure good footing, and send falling snow away from the opening. While concentrating on his work, he freely discusses various alternative uses for the runes he is carving and how their language works.

Hours of work see the stairs and the anteroom’s walls and ceiling secured before he calls it a day. The two narrow corridors I’d used to mark the limits of a three-metre square now had nearly everything between them hollowed out. All that’s left is a divider an arm’s length beyond the doorway—to block the wind’s impact. Lines of runes mark out the limits of the segments I excavated as we went, each embedded precisely by Gaius.

The open style of the anteroom—instead of a door sealing us from the outside—is nothing new to Gaius, but it feels odd to me.

“Cosy.”

I breathed the word in his ear only after he started packing away his tools and I had my chains safely in Inventory. He starts so violently it tips him off balance, and it only takes a tweak of his clothing to face plant him against my chest.

“What are you planning?” murmurs Gaius softly when I gently restrain him in place.

“Your necklace tastes of energy, holding cold at bay. Do you feel cold now you’re out of the wind?”

“No,” sighs Gaius, his quickening breath brushing across the curve of my breast and teasing a nipple so close to his lips he could kiss it if he dared.

Rising, his cheek brushes along my body until I stop with his it resting against my inner thigh, his nose having grazed my mound on the way past. “That’s good then.”

I step clear, quick enough that he topples and almost sprawls out, catching himself before he hits and looks up in confusion. Turning away, I make my way towards the camp, restoring my chains.

They’ve organised the camp while we’ve been working, a clean circle around the central fire. Despite the wind, each only set up a basic hide lean-to—yet none flutter in the gusts—with bedrolls beneath. Among their circle, I can see the cliques already forming in their quadrants of the camp. Horatia cramped into the closest quadrant with the Elven girls and an unoccupied bedroll for Inger’s use.

Despite his behaviour and manipulation of one of his Deity’s faithful, Senca still seems on good enough terms to bunch near Vitus; their gear positioned near each other on the camp’s far side. Titus and Martialis have their setup to the left, leaving Gaius’ spot in the right quadrant, perched next to the dead boy, Quinctus.

Before I reach the top step, Inger looks my way from her spot perched on the upper slope above the camp’s edge. “Finished already?”

“Oh, I could have gone for hours yet, but Gaius is all worn out,” I tease, enjoying the heat that floods her pale features. “Enjoying keeping watch within the wards?”

The ice, snow and rock make for a desolate sterile terrain, but she doesn’t seem bothered by the starkness of the view.

“It's important to have a watch despite wards; you should never count on camping wards to keep everything at bay,” replies Inger quietly. She keeps her voice low out of consideration of others already sleeping and holds out a slip of parchment. “For all the questions you answered this afternoon.”

Though I’ve no interest in the parchment, I move close to sit and she doesn’t flinch away. I keep my chains from sprawling near her gear, even if she is immune to their touch. “We had a conversation, and it was no skin off my nose to let you have that information.”

Inger determinately leans forward, close enough to push it into my grasp. “I held this over your head to get answers to questions, and then you answered far more than I’d have been able to bargain for with these lines.”

The hoary-frost gates will open when the guardian’s blade cuts the sky.

Winter Heart's empty sheath awaits the forging to spare the setting sun.

A flightless spawn shall spread her wings on a world’s wyrd reforged.

When the light no longer comes, the furthest gate will swell.

The red nymph will wield her scales amid the deepest ice.

When the sea folks’ tide arises, fangs and claws will maul the north.

A storm’s end will herald the days’ demise when both are becalmed.

A cloud’s wrathful fall will break the river king’s walls to usher in the days of blight.

They will march nine hosts across the lands.

From among their blazing lights, only one shall rise at dawn.

I’d roll my eyes if they didn’t just show as solid sulphur-yellow, regardless. “This is meaningless.”

“Yet it refers to a red nymph, and your name means evil nymph,” argues Inger, keeping her voice low.

“I don’t have scales to wield,” I point out and curl my lips at the amusement that rises from her.

“Don’t you; you started etching runes upon scales,” Inger replies with a smug smile curving her lips.

“No intention of using them for anything but practice embedding Mana. To ensure I spite this stupid prophecy, if nothing else, I’ll make sure not even one gets used if we have to go through the Gate.”

“Those who work to avoid prophecies often find them binding them that much tighter,” cautions Inger and frowns when I give her the parchment.

“I’ll remember it, but thanks for writing it out,” I say, and she blinks quickly before finally taking it from me.

“There are other prophecies about the next Gods’ War that people believe this prophecy is leading to,”

“Your Norse Ragnarok?”

“You have a strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance about the ten kingdoms,” notes Inger suspiciously. “If there are many worlds out there, why know anything about ours?”

Giving her a shrug, I offered the only answer I could. “It’s like living next door to someone that leaves their windows unshuttered: you’re going to know some things, but not everything. Plus, I never expected to get summoned here. Why learn all the details of people I might never meet when I have skills to improve?”

“Would you like to know more?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t bother me,” I reply honestly. My curiosity about the way they mimic earth cultures despite the differences in the time they existed in won’t get me anything, and she’s unlikely to know. Inger’s fatigued scent though, prompts me to continue. “If you’re looking to talk and keep awake while on watch, educate me. Start with the basics: your prophecy talks about nine hosts, but you all refer to your lands as the ten kingdoms.”

“There are only nine Pantheons between the ten kingdoms. The Romans split when they arrived here; one group headed north and the other to the west from our arrival point.”

Gaius climbs out from the entryway during her explanation and makes for his bedroll. His body language and scent convey how delightfully flustered he still is, and even while chewing at cold rations, he drops asleep.

“Why don’t you start with how your various people got here?” I ask and smile at her confusion. “It was before my time. You have very diverse cultures. Did you all develop in these lands or others?”

“I’m not a skald,” warns Inger, but nods reluctantly. “But I can tell you the basics of our journey from the lands beyond the dawn.”

Rampaging Dragons having a romp to scare the puny Humans summarises the tale's start. There is no mention of the metallics, but it includes every faction of Tiamat’s chromatic brood. The herding of national groups from what sounds like Europe, and parts of the middle east followed. By the time we get to avatars of gods clashing on the open ocean, she’s more than ready to change the watch.

“Can we take this up another time?” Inger asks, holding back a yawn. “I can’t remember who I’m supposed to wake: Vitus, I think.”

“Just bug Quinctus, the dead boy is there simply pretending to sleep. I prefer his company to Vitus,” I offer and said guilty party just tilts his head, and I see a glimmer of red dots beneath his hood.

Inger doesn’t look his way, but when I wave in his direction, he’s quickly on his feet and walking around the camp.

“Particular reason to keep watch here?”

“It’s closest to your work site. As Inger said, let’s not risk anything slipping through the wards and preparing an ambush in the tunnels you’ve carved so far,” Quinctus says and sits down near Inger. “You covered the important points to my recollection. I found aspects from the Norse perspective I’d not heard before quite interesting.”

“Hopefully, I told them true. I liked the history tales at the… growing up,” Inger replies. When she awkwardly falls silent, I have to bite back the temptation to poke at the sharp scent of pain coming from her. We let the silence remain: I did not mention her sudden change in wording, and Inger avoided even looking at the trickle of blood freezing on my chin. Rising, she nods to us both and is quick enough to retire to her bedroll, even sandwiched as it is between the girls and Gaius. By the time she’s on her bedroll, the wound across my tongue has sealed.

Quinctus just sat quietly, listening to the eerie sound of the wind and eventually, when I scrubbed the long-frozen blood from my chin, he looks my way. “You bit yourself?”

“It makes me feel good. Do you remember what an orgasm is, Quinctus?”

His eyes flicker across the black flecks dusting the snow before speaking further. “I noted it more because of the timing of your injury.”

“Oh, it’s not the Pact that caused me to bite my tongue, dead boy; I’m still more than able to be a tormenting bitch to those that deserve it. Inger spoke to me politely, so I’m not going back on my word to keep conversation civilised to those who speak politely to me.”

“As you would prefer to be called Sidero, I would prefer not to be called dead boy,” He says calmly. “What happens if Vitus speaks politely to you?”

“Vitus can twist himself in two, Quinctus. He and his family went against proper Order and should pay the debt themselves.”

“And if they don’t, will you still claim Gaius’ Soul for Hell?”

“I will do what I must, including following the contract's details. Think of it as ensuring ordered behaviour from me.”

“It’s almost like you speed up our travels so you could claim you’re balancing your aggressive and disruptive behaviour.”

It was more because I wanted to stretch my Power, but I'll admit he has a point.

“Haven’t I? How far south would we still be if not for my trick with the chairs? No one raised the issue that Titus’ travelling blessings you had wouldn’t work without the legionaries.”

He nods in acknowledgement, and then a smile twists his dried lips. “There were other options available to me, though certainly, your approach was easier on their sanity. With our progress, I saw no need to bring it up.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“The River Styx touches all worlds and all places, though travelling on it is hard on the living. I say this because others likely might well have other options that are open to their faith. Like all things though, there are costs involved. You offered a solution first, so they did not need to use their Power.”

“You know there are other worlds, and you didn’t correct Vitus?” I ask, though his angle is clear.

“We are here for the same overall purpose, Sidero, but I’ll not wade into helping you win the arguments you so willing seek.”

This time it’s my turn to nod in acknowledgement, and it’s no skin off my nose since kicking Vitus is so much fun. The spikes hiss across stone and ice as I idly carve drawings to pass the time.

“What’s your involvement in all this, Quinctus?”

He doesn’t even look my way, and I follow his gaze scouring across the barren terrain and simply wait. “Do you seek to know, or are you making conversation?”

“Making conversation mainly. I’d prefer to be working, but I don’t know enough to work on the runes by myself.”

“How far did things progress?”

I’d give him a smirk for changing the subject, but he’s not even looking at me. “We completed the stairs, entryway, and the antechamber.”

“That doesn’t sound like we even have enough time now,” observes Quinctus, motioning towards the model still lying by the campfire. “The antechamber isn’t even as long as any of the bedrooms you marked out.”

“It took longer to deal with the stairs and entryway than to reinforce the chamber’s walls and ceiling. We can move quickly through the remaining rooms, since we figured out a safe way to hollow them out,” I say. Quinctus looks at me..

“You care about his safety?”

Smirking at him, I won’t lie. “I don’t have to care about him; he’s looking after himself and knows it’s best not to collapse the ceiling.”

I slowly start carving a series I’d mentioned to Gaius, using a forearm-length Remorhaz claw I retrieve for Inventory with all the meat and blood left behind as my carving surface. Multiple heat effect runes joined with others that I’d watched Gaius repeatedly carve. I set light marks further away from the clawed end to ensure the spacing is even before I begin the work.

It’s slow going setting the circle around the claw’s base, but a simple activation causes it to project heat outwards upon its completion. The same effect had controlled the push of snow and ice from the entry, pushing heat continually outwards from the last hand span. A haze of heat glows a dull red, but it’s enough to push back the darkness around us and cause a few stray snowflakes to melt.

[Artificer Rune Sequence complete

Embed Mana [Ap] (10->14)

Artificer: +200

First item permanent item constructed bonus:

Artificer: +100

Engraving [M](2) -> (3)]

Nice that a skill learned for my smith work comes in handy now.

“Did you intend to make a torch from that Remorhaz claw?”

“I want to try chaining together runes Gaius explained to me. Three heat effect runes along with linkage, control, and projection runes cause the heat to be constant rather than a burst,” I explain and store the claw away.

When another appears in my hand, and I start preparing to carve again, he unnecessarily clears his throat. “The Remorhaz are magical beasts, shouldn’t you save its claws for when you’ve learnt more?”

“It’s what I have now, and I don’t plan to let time slip away when I could be practising. The material absorbs Mana well, but flaws in rocks can cause issues with Embed Mana. Gaius manages it because he has enough experience to feel the changes in resistance and adjust.”

When I focus back on the claw, he gets the hint and doesn’t interrupt again. Though I’m almost out of Mana before the others stir, I’ve got nine magical torches that I don’t need and an Artificer level increase to my name. With all the runes I needed to carve, the first took time, but slowly I got quicker; not by much, the first having given the most progress.

Their confusion thickens the air when the others wake up with it still completely dark; the rapid changes in latitude not really having given them time to adjust their expectations, despite the prior day. Cracks in the pressure cooker are already forming, I nearly dig at Vitus again before realising how much his pain is making my body hum.

The thought that he’s getting my rocks off almost has me spitting in disgust, and instead of digging, I try to moderate my own words. “Vitus, just because something is outside your understanding doesn’t mean it’s a problem or that it makes you or your Deity any less. It just means you didn’t know everything before. Accept there are things you can change and things you can’t. How this planet spins around the sun isn’t one of them.”

“Don’t talk to-”

Horatia snaps a glare his way. “I’d suggest listening to Sidero, Vitus. She not actually roasting you for a change. While it could be a trap, it sounds like good advice.”

“I’ve heard it said that it requires wisdom to understand wisdom: the music is nothing if the audience is deaf,” I offer

The laughter from Horatia holds only light-hearted amusement, but it and my words merely leave Vitus confused instead of in pain or fury. The knowledge my words have been digging and leaving unnoticed wounds prompts me away from my enjoyment of his suffering, and perversely my recollection of Human pain sends pleasure pulsing through my groin. “By the way, Vitus, a warning: you’re letting me get under your skin about Mithras and the sun, that leaves you vulnerable to doubt. I don’t like you; I’m sure I hate you. However, letting your doubt in Mithras grow would impede this expedition.”

“As if your words could-“

“Shut up. I know my words hurt. I even enjoyed the taste of that doubt slicing around inside your guts,” I purr, letting the pleasure I felt earlier rise in my voice. “It made me wet. At present, it’s not impeding the expedition, and since your mind isn’t under my control. I didn’t force you to doubt him. You did that all on your own. Questions been niggling at the back of your mind since I first took a dig?”

“Then why tell me now? What was your intention?” Vitus demands his tone still a mutt’s growl that makes me want to yank out his teeth.

“I’m not risking breaking the contract, even if it means passing up opportunities to make you suffer. Might want to pray and meditate on what Mithras means to you, to reaffirm your faith. Perhaps even consider why it’s so frail that mere words planted seeds of doubt in you. Guilty, perhaps?”

Vitus turns away with the hiss of irritation and the ignition of the magical fire beneath the cooking grill makes him jump. He started back bumping into Senca and almost falling into the fire, and I don’t restrain my mocking laughter.

“Gaius, how long do you think it will take to ready some rooms?” Titus asks and steps forward to ‘accidentally’ block my line of sight to Vitus though he ignores both of us.

“We should have the next three rooms and a proper corridor joining them done today,” Gaius replies quickly.

“If all things go as planned, you should complete the top level in three days,” states Martialis, gesturing for both Vitus and Senca to move clear of the fireplace. Even though it shouldn’t be his turn to cook, he looks like he’s getting ready.

“Skipping ahead in the roster for cooking, are you Martialis?”

“I like food I don’t have to wash down with strong drink to stomach; that limits the number of the expedition suitable for cooking,” Martialis says, carefully not looking at either of the pair he shooed from the campfire. “We’ll let you know when breakfast is ready Gaius, if you want to take Sidero away and get started.”

“Oh really, you’re ready to take me now are you Gaius?”

Drawing one of the clawed torches from Inventory, I set it where it adds more illumination to Martialis’ preparation area. Gaius led the way, having already picked up his work tools. Among other things, he’s got his illumination out by the time I reach the antechamber, a disc attached to his thick coat shedding a nice dose of radiant sunlight through the chamber.

With him studying the two narrow cuts leading further inside, I store the chains and press myself against his back. The moment my breasts squeeze against him, he stiffens in more ways than one.

Gaius coughs to clear his throat, and his scent spikes with fierce determination before he speaks up. “Let’s get the corridor carved completely to past where the three rooms join.”

“Yes, oh wise summoner.”

I barely breathe in his ear, and he shudders with desire, battling that initial determination.

“You’re in a mood this morning, Sidero. Did you want to have a conversation or hold on to your attitude?”

“Finding some spine this morning, Gaius?” I purr and smell the anger that he keeps from his expression.

Gaius’ scent surges with a heady mix of desire and determination, and I’m not surprised when he twists completely away, setting his back towards the corridor. “What do you want from me, Sidero? Hell already has my Soul, so I don’t know what game you’re playing,”

“Hell has a contract for your Soul, but I have no arrangement with you about what fun we might have together,”

“But you let-‘

“Foreplay: you don’t get any of the main events until we decide terms, what is on and what is off the table,” I reply and put a finger to his lips when he goes to object. “I need to know what you do and don’t want to try, or mistakes might happen. That’s why I made you pick that safe word, Gaius. You might tell me to stop when you are just enjoying yourself.”

Gaius looks at me suspiciously and licks his lips nervously. “And if I say his name, you’d immediately stop?”

“Yes.”

“Flavius.”

The moment the name leaves his lips, I back away, leaving him open-mouthed. “Shall we handle what we can before breakfast since you don’t want to play?”

“We’ve got a limited time, and we’ve not seen where the natural Gate opens yet,” says Gaius uncertainly, logic fighting arousal in his expression and scent.

Nodding towards the narrow-cut tunnels, I get down to business. “If you set runes along the first arm-length into each side, then I’ll remove a flat section from near the ceiling so you can place runes on it the full width?”

“Remembered correctly. Widen the left-hand side first, please.”

Inventory shaves off a hand’s length more from the support in the middle to give him the space he’ll need to work. Stepping back again, I drop an iron plate on the ground, and the moment he steps on it, I raise it slowly. Once he signals me to stop, he starts the first runes along the upper wall: stability in various forms and strength. It’s a continuation of the pattern he’d carved into the antechamber’s walls but containing additions to deaden excess noise. He continues carving and instructing until the first segment is complete. I taste the Mana—what he added and the trickle it’s drawing in—soaking through the material, sealing it tight.