Chained - 14

It turned out it was Gaius’ turn to cook and, given that he’d been preparing the ingredients, it had been little wonder he ignored my question. A grilled stand over the campfire kept several pans from the flames as the scents of various vegetable dishes wafted in the air: some swimming in wine, and one seasoned with an interesting mix that included honey and ground pepper. He cooked fresh duck retrieved from his bag with a dab of a fermented fish sauce that had the meat’s flavour exploding in my mouth even before it came time to eat. Given the quality of the food he produces, it seems I really had distracted him that first morning.

Curiously unbothered by the fact I’d been chewing bloody meat before his meal, with my chains away, he pays me with a kiss that starts slowly before it runs heat through my veins. The brush of his clothing against my skin, the teasing abrasions against my nipples, has my clitoris twitching. The strength in his calloused hands caressing across my hips and things elicits a groan of pleasure. When the scent of Senca’s lust spikes, I shift position slightly to press my groin against Gaius’ closest hand. Fingertips brush against my folds before he freezes in place, yet his desire and surprised delight fill my lungs.

When he goes to shift away, I clasp my hand atop his and pull free from the kiss with a grumble. “If you’re going to let your hands wander, Gaius, then do it properly.”

A flex of my hand presses his strong fingers into my engorging clitoris, and I watch his nostrils flare and the heat in his gaze. Looping my arms around his broad shoulders, changing position let me spread and push my hardening nipples into him. I don’t even need to give another order before his fingers trace along my swollen folds. Strangely gentle motions, at odds with the roughness of his callouses. The lightness of his touch should have set honest ache in my nub, but it twisted immediately into pleasure. A flood of heat has a trickle of wetness starting down my thighs.

The wet seam of my clit parts and seals again behind each passage he traces across me. It’s an ache that I crave, but the way it surges straight to pleasure has me growling when it peaks higher still.

“Oh, very good, Gaius.”

When he retraces the path for the fifth time, the pad of his middle-finger presses firmly against my twitching clit, and with a fast movement plunges two fingers deep until the base of his hand presses hard against my mound. The movement so sharp the slap sounds through the air, and my cunt convulses hard around his fingers.

My fingers stroke his forearm to feel the muscles flex. He curls his fingers; the motion pulling hard against my cunt when my push sends him sprawling to the ground. The wet sucking noise and the sound of him hitting the snow jerked gazes our way as my lips curl in amusement.

“Naughty Gaius, I said they could wander, not probe.”

My chains are back in place before he moves. Their reappearance sending excitement surging in his scent proves that whatever else Gaius finds desirable in me, danger gets his rocks off.

“Shall we move out, Titus?”

Titus snorts when he looks between us and motions to the chairs. “I’m sure we were waiting for you to say you were ready, Sidero.”

“Well, I’m very ready now,” I say, heading for my chair and leaving Gaius scrambling to find his feet. Looking at the darkening sky, I note the glow from Titus’ dagger appears brighter in the fading daylight. “Do you need to keep a hand on it?”

Titus glances at the dagger thoughtfully, completely missing my pun. “It won’t do us much good in a bag.”

“Just secure it in here,” I say, and send iron salvaged from the Trolls floating his way, moulding it into a box attached to his chair’s armrest. “Threading the handle through the loop in its middle will let it turn freely and not get caught up on the sides.”

The landscape blurred by with increasing speed throughout the evening with heated kisses paid after each leg of the journey. Though Gaius’ hands wandered he stayed within the current limit of the game I’d set in play. Whenever I tensed to push him away, he’d back off and continue with more delicate caresses, an erotic game of cat and mouse that had me humming in pleasure, and his scent thick with desire, not just lust.

Every break gives me the fun of listening to Vitus haranguing Inger in tense whispers about me—the distance he moves away no challenge to my hearing—before eventually she ignores his requests for a talk entirely. Between Vitus’ increasing frustration, and Inger stonewalling him, it’s hard to determine which gives me more pleasure.

Musing on that pair of distractions has me overshoot our destination and Titus looks at me in confusion when I halt in mid-air—my contact with the dagger’s metal tells me it’s pointing straight back. Fifty feet up, I don’t speak, since I do not know how far the noise will travel; I just point at the box where I can feel the dagger pointing southwards, and then behind us before I swoop back around to approach again.

Dawn sees us atop a low hill with Titus confused by his dagger pointing straight down. When he steps off to the side, though, it doesn’t immediately change direction, nor twist about even at ground level.

“If you move further that way, we can work out how far down that Gate is going to open.” I say, motioning southwards past where I’d set the chairs down.

My words draw the attention of most of the expedition, but Gaius speaks up first. “What do you mean?”

“Do none of you know how to calculate distance based on angles?”

“We’re not builders,” scoffed Vitus, but his mocking response drew a disapproving stare from Horatia.

“Yeah, that’s obvious; they’re far more useful to any society than you, Vitus,” I sneer and form a spike from iron and drive it into the Permafrost where Titus had been pointing. Memories of maths classes that I’d quickly set aside post high-school bubbling in my head, I go searching for a way to make this work.

“What is that for?” objects Vitus, and I don’t even bother to look up.

Already making the next object I need, I answer without hesitation. “It’s a marker point obviously. Are you dumb, or just working hard to act that way? Titus, can you head southward till the dagger is pointing at forty-five degrees towards the ground? Don’t worry, I know you have no clue what I mean, so I’m making a gauge.”

More remnants of metal change into a large hook with a ridge to check the dagger’s angle atop a long spike to brace it above the ground. The memory of a calculator displaying the value of Tan forty-degrees gives me a rough base to calculate the depth on, and I hand the industrial sized tent peg over.

“When the dagger wants to sit on a slope that matches the top of the hook, that’s forty-five degrees.”

“Why don’t we just dig straight down?” asks Quinctus. “Can’t you use your ability to carve stone and make some spiral steps or whatever?”

“Because there is no shelter here, so let’s find out if we need to cut down a bit or a lot. Measure twice, cut once. If it’s a lot, I can carve out living space—provided we don’t hit the water table. Better hope it’s solid rock beneath the Permafrost here. If it’s totally porous, some of us are in more trouble than others.”

My words get a wary look from Martialis before he speaks up. “There are blessings of Janus intended to create secure and comfortable shelters for travellers. They will prevent water leaking in or force it out if you can carve us living space like you did that cave.”

“And if it’s close to the surface?” asks Senca, raising a hand to shield his face from a gust of arctic wind.

“I’ll be fine. I can teach you how to make ice huts; some of you might have fun.”

I’ve no intention of explaining my only knowledge is the memory of igloo making in a documentary.

Inger’s only reaction at my offer is to give an understanding nod. “I already know how to make a shelter from snow—ice might be easier in some ways.”

At the other’s confused expressions, she stops and her tone gains an annoyed lecturing edge. “The warmth of our breath will melt the ice, but it seals with all the cold close by, and keeps the heat in.”

The surface here is hard packed snow, icy rock, or permafrost, most of it scoured clear by the winds so that our footsteps don’t even make a dent. The pacing stretches out to nearly a count of three hundred and we’re standing in a dip on the far side of the hill before the dagger’s angle matches the guide, I’d provided Titus.

“Over four hundred and eighty odd paces straight down from that marker I set if my memory is right,” I say after a simple calculation.

“How are we going to get down to it?” asks Senca, and I wonder if he’s just not been paying attention.

“Since it’s so far down, I’ll dig out layers of living quarters and a forge space.”

“Surely there is a limit to what you can dig,” Horatia says, making me realise that by the time they’d exited that first cave, the blizzard had covered the stone slabs I’d dumped outside.

“A limit to what I can dig out and hold at one time, yes, but I’ll just dump the material out on the ice. How much time do we have before it will open to the furthest point you’re hoping for?”

“A few weeks yet,” Titus offers, with no hesitation.

“Plenty of time. The only issue will be where to put all the debris. Straight tunnel, or how do we want to set this up?”

“You are the one doing the excavation,” replied Titus, before looking at Martialis. “Will the blessings also prevent a collapse?”

Martialis gives a sharp nod, but when his scent turns thoughtful, I just look at him curiously, and he eventually explains. “The less work they have to do to make the place stable, the easier they’ll be to maintain.”

“Was that so hard to admit, Martialis?” I purr gleefully, my tone earning a flat look from him.

Titus’ grumpy sigh almost has me laugh with delight, but I keep quiet as he speaks up. “How big a ward can you set?”

“Far bigger than we use for the travelling camps. Given we’ll be here a while, allowing plenty of personal space might be the wisest course,” offers Horatia, with no side-eye at Gaius or me at all.

“We should use the marker Sidero set to act as a central point for the wards. I’d suggest we extend them in a circle another hundred paces out at least,” Quinctus said, and glanced between the others.

Martialis quickly nodded and started back northwards, calling over his shoulder. “Best to have the ward’s energy outside the limits of Janus’ Sanctuary Blessing. No idea how they’d interact.”

“I’ll try setting up some rooms under another hill in case they aren’t stable enough to stand on their own,” I say. Looking at my Profile, I throw the sixteen knowledge points into Engineering as I’d considered more than once.

[Knowledge: Engineering Unlocked!

Engineering (0->16)

Engineering minor synergy with Siege Engines detected

Engineering (16 -> 18)]

Note: After keeping a Siege Engine together under pressure, you want to keep destructible things intact? Smash, dismember and re-cycle isn’t the theme song you know!]

“We’ll be setting wards in place that will help prevent the natural Gate from closing. The downside is any Lawful individual leaving this area in the Material Plane will shatter them once they’re in place. Whatever experimenting you need to do will need to be done prior to those going up,” advises Titus.

“What about the girls?” I ask quickly, wondering if they’re just intending to keep them here.

“They’re not lawful, they’re as chaotic as most Elves, but the ward we need to set up will not be ready today. We’ll use the usual camp ward for the next week,” explains Titus, fixing me with a reproving glance, and if I’d been the one to leave it unexplained.

Rather that dig myself a hole I just give him a nod and head towards a hill further south creating an abacus I as go.

“I’ll accompany her,” Inger says, and I’m careful to keep my back to them when I pull a face.

The icy ground slows my walking pace, and she quickly catches up before I reform a disc to carry me along. “Coming along to supervise?”

“Why don’t you just carve into that slope?” asks Inger, pointing ahead far side of the drip.

“A normal conversation would have you answer a question before asking one. Or do I have to go back to charging for questions?”

Inger stops for a moment to glare at me, and when I give her a smirk, it seems like she’s counting to ten. “No, I’m not supervising, as I don’t even know how you carve the earth. What I need to do is stretch my legs after so many hours spent seated.”

“I’ll need to do more than just set up two small chambers like I did in the blizzard, and I want plenty of space to experiment. If make a big mistake while testing things, it could impact the slope I want to use as our entry point for the real thing.”

She pauses again, but this time in thought rather than frustration, and catches up quickly when I continue onwards.

“What did you mean by ‘one who walks Odin’s path of trials’ the other day?”

“I’m surprised you care, as long as it gets you what you want,” chides Inger.

When I give a shrug that sets my chains jangling, she looks at me suspiciously. “I’m just making conversation. I know next to nothing about the Norse Gods, except for Odin having one-eye and a spear, Thor has a hammer and is a God of Lightning not the God of Hammers. The fallen warriors drink and feast in Valhalla, but don’t lose a hand if you want to get in; and oh, they’re always arguing with the Giants.”

“Odin endured many trials in his quest for insight into the deeper mysteries, including sacrificing his eye to the Well of Knowledge on orders of its guardian Mímir. Among his faithful there are those that seek to follow his guidance, some endure their suffering stoically, others antagonise those about them. Whether because their suffering makes them aggressive or they’re trying to get others to help forge them in the crucible of conflict, it is always hard to say. But those following Skaði should not seek to raise to the bait of the Oath-breaker’s ilk,” explains Inger, her expression twisting in a harsh look of distaste that and was gone in a blink.

“Help forge them. I take it that means they like to pick fights.”

Inger’s expression relaxes and she nods quickly. “Not that different from a lot of Norse warriors, but they’re continually prodding others to test them and themselves.”

“Oath-breaker? Is it just Skaði’s followers that have such a perspective of his deeds?”

Not quite the perspective I’d taken of him from various movies; likely because of Hollywood watering tales, but maybe they’re very different in the Titan’s reality. A question asked for a conversation, and I end up with interesting information instead—knowledge of gods beyond what Mother’s memories provide.

“The All-Father seeks power and is known for not letting his word stop him from achieving more of it. He tricked my Goddess with promises and then put conditions on his Oath after she fulfilled her side of it. From others, he has stolen what he promised to only sip, among many other things. What he craves, he’ll twist his word, or outright lie, to gain; even what he doesn’t crave, he’ll still seek to gain the most advantage from his opponents’ desires.”

Her explanation of why she backed off her attitude makes no sense to me. I’d be looking to screw someone like that over, not help them. “Her telling you this changed your attitude? Someone like that I’d make pay for their Oath breaking. I thought it would set you more against me.”

Her braid flops about when she vigorously shakes her head. “It set me thinking about your behaviour. Those that follow his path are misguided but not necessarily malicious. Foolish individuals that need protection from themselves mostly, and Skaði teaches us to judge the results of their actions with a cool head.”

“The results of my actions being: three Elven children rescued, you lot learning that Vitus is a traitorous shit, and me manipulating you to bring a child back to life.”

Inger nods curtly at my tally and her scent clarifies that’s not all there is to it. She surprised me by speaking up again when I was sure she’d stay silent. “I’d count the outcome more a child restored to life than focusing on me being manipulated into doing a good deed. Plus, you hastened our journey here; to fulfil your part of the bargain, all you needed to do was keep pace with us.”

Though the words ease the strain in her scent, she still smells of things unsaid, concealed rather than lies.

“Yeah, don’t get too fussed about that one. Walking or even riding chains through the snow and ice isn’t my idea of fun. The region of the ninth layer of Hell where we… live is one massive glacier, and you could walk across it for centuries and not get to the other side.”

Inger doesn’t react to my pause, but likely it’s for a different reason. We live! It’s disturbing that I’m considering me, and them, as we.

I take us kilometres across the undulating plain before I pick a small rise and cut a set of broad curved steps. Widening it further, I undercut the hillside, and note when the ceiling is settling from the weight. Putting back the slabs of Permafrost and ice with an explosive crack displaces the overhang back into place.

A sigh of pure frustration pre-empts Inger’s growl. “Are you trying to attract attention?”

“If something wants to come play with us it’s a chance to get stronger. Since getting stronger and learning are the only things I’m getting out of this expedition, I’ve no objections to attention. However, the only thing I smelt approaching this position was bull seals, and a few times I think some type of whale busting through the ice.”

“Except perhaps whatever blended into the ice earlier and killed wagon-sized bull seals the other day,” grumbles Inger.

“I’ll give you that one.”

Moving to an untouched area I cut another set of broad stairs, and leave supports in place as I go. Slowly refining rough guesses about the structural support provided by pillars of the various materials, my experiments collapse repeatedly. Adjustments in placement and ceiling curvature slowly added points to my Engineering but still nothing to Mining.

“Do you have any blessings for turning earth or mud into stone?”

“No, my Goddess’ sphere is Winter, not Earth. From our planning discussions, Martialis and Titus can both turn mud into rock. It came up when a Legionnaire asked about being bogged down travelling here.”

“I’ll need to experiment with that. I don’t suppose Vitus can make sun the shine out of his arse and turn sections of Permafrost into a giant mud pie?”

“He and Senca can both make things hotter, but I’m sure they’d prefer to be cooking you than the ground. Isn’t it interesting you annoyed them the most out of all of us so far,”

“Well, they can either help or we’ll live in cramped quarters, which doesn’t bother me. Then again, I’m sure Senca wouldn’t mind being in somewhere tight with you or Horatia.”

Inger shudders and quickly nods. “We’ll sort it out. What do you need?”

Taking out slabs of iron, I make moulds for pillar sections, and wall panels, setup so they’ll dovetail into the sections beneath.

“Pack them with mud, turn it into stone and tip them out. If they make a few of each, I can test them out and see what adjustments I need to make.”

“You don’t expect these to work?”

“If they do it’ll be a pleasant surprise, but I’m pretty sure even if the moulds work there will be other issues. I don’t know how much weight the dovetails I’ve set in those moulds will support or what foundations the pillars or wall panels will need. I’ve a few weeks to find all the issues, sort them out, and carve to where the Portal is going to open. I’m sure that time will disappear fast,” I say and when I turn my focus towards another slope, Inger puts the moulds into a storage bag and starts at a jog back to the others.

The carving through the day gives Inventory a workout as I repeatedly push its capacity and, trying to re-create the different ceiling arches from Gothic cathedrals, increase my Engineering. Though strangely, I gain more when I work out my failures than when I succeed the first time.

By the time Inger returns with Gaius in tow, the tundra around me looks like a giant wombat has had a blast digging holes. Mounds of churned ice, dirt, and snow, with the wind continually gusting streams of loose debris southwards.

“Come to pay up for the last leg?”

Gaius still blushes at my teasing question despite all the shows we’ve given the others, but the focus in his scent barely wavers. “That and to discuss what you want to achieve and what problems you see.”

“I don’t know enough is my problem. We need a builder with experience setting up at least cellars, but what I remember is that most types of rock are porous to varying degrees. So even if we hit bedrock near where the Portal is going to open, we could end up dealing with ongoing seepage of water into the area,” I reply and gesture towards a section I’d carved out ahead of me where the closest ice pillar I’d set shows signs of cracking under the mass it’s supporting.

“The strength of the pillars versus the weight of the ceiling and getting the load bearing locations right. I was thinking of using rock panels to seal the walls, perhaps a double layer with ice behind.”

“There are rune patterns for making boats watertight that I can apply with some alternation, and others for increasing the strength of materials,” offered Gaius. “Not all the answers need to be found in the materials you have on hand or what blessings can transform.”

“Perhaps not, but the closer I can get to building it without magic, the longer the magic will last,” I counter, and Gaius shrugs.

“Not as important as you might think. We’re going to be living on top of an open Gateway; the amount of Mana surging around it will be more than enough to supply even runes that need a continual draw,” argues Gaius. “That isn’t the case with transformational runes. Once I make something watertight, it stays that way, and I can provide stone with a hardness greater than steel. It’s not like a sword’s enchantment with damage wearing it away. We also don’t need Vitus or Senca to help—I’ve got runes that can both make mud out of earth or rock and transform mud into granite.”

“Alright, lets gets started then and test out different excavation approaches.”

Gaius’ frown is so cute, and the scent of desire sits thick in the cold air. “You’re not looking to get paid first?”

“As much as I’m happy to put on a show for Inger, since it’s the last kiss I might get, I want to take my time and enjoy it fully.”

The huskiness that I give my words has the right effect on his scent, even as Inger smells of frustration.

“I thought you were a Kyton not a Succubus,” remarks Inger, and I can tell she held back an eye roll of disdain when my gaze wanders over him and I lick my lips. I have to suppress the smile that tries to break loose from still being able to get under her skin.

“That’s because I am a Kyton, but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying myself. All succubi continually crave sex, need it even; I’ve seen some give into their lusts mid-battle. Good sex or bad, doesn’t matter to most of them, they just need their fix. Whereas I enjoy savouring the pleasure, and while pain twists into pleasure for me, I can still tell which way it started,” I answer, and give Gaius a smile. “Are those runes you mentioned going to be included in the lessons?”

“Of course, I said I’d teach you properly if we follow that arrangement about answering my questions,” responds Gaius sharply, and I taste his wounded pride.

“Good, even more reason to get our base for the next decade setup properly. I’d hate for the lessons to be disrupted,” I reply, and give him a predatory smile when I look him over, “or other things.”

His scent of desire spikes hard with lust, showing his addiction to danger, but at least I know it’s not the only thing that drives him.

Moving to a fresh section of tundra I cut a sloping passage into the ground, and a mental flick dumps what I pulled out of the ground to the south. The wind immediately kicks the loosest material up into a cloud that it blows away in a streamer from the mound.