Chained - 12

Inventory let me churn the Winter Wolves’ pooled blood under the fresh earth with ease, but their lingering chemical scent sits sullenly in the air, etching itself bleach-like across my tongue. Even using Inventory to clean my skin perfectly doesn’t make a difference.

The disgusting foulness appalled me, but the expedition seemed unfussed by it, camped less than ten metres from where I’d gutted the three wolves. Even the Elves simply sniff the air once and promptly ignore it when they’d end their reverie. Whatever else Gaius is thinking about when he spots me, lust rolls off him thick enough to cut through the stench.

Vitus looks up from his turn at preparing a meal and sneers when Gaius stands. “Do you have no pride?”

“Unlike nobles or some Priests, I know how to pay my debts,” retorts Gaius, the sudden anger in him not making it into his voice but cutting through the lust in his scent.

Silevien words to Rúthel were a whisper that didn’t even register with the squabbling pair. “Do you think they both want to mate with her?”

“Father said Humans would even mate with a Manes female if she fell so they couldn’t see her face,” offers Iarien.

Rúthel’s expression twists as if tasting something sour. “Explains why there are so many Half-Orcs in the mountains.”

Laughing lightly, Silevien twitches a fingertip towards Senca. “Some Orcs look better than that Human; maybe they court each other.”

“Very insightful girls, but aren’t you letting your bias show? Human women—our females—can’t control if they are fertile once they are of age,” Horatia interjected, opening her eyes to regard the three talking away in Elven.

“What, but that means—”

“Orc males possess more raw strength than most human women, they have little a choice if captured. All the Orc tribes care about is adding to their numbers for the next conflict,” added Horatia.

Silevien blanched at Horatia’s matter-of-fact tone, her skin gaining a hint of green under the pure whiteness.

“Something disagreeing with the little princess?” Vitus asked, glancing between Horatia and the girls when the three shifted uncomfortably.

“Never mind, Vitus. They had some questions regarding human culture,” said Horatia. “I shared Minerva’s gift by enlightening them.”

Gaius stalks across to me, anger fighting with the lust in his scent.

“An hour’s lesson on runes in place of a kiss.”

My words have him blinking, and he stammers after a moment, trying to get his mouth in gear. “That wasn’t the deal.”

Pointing over at Vitus, I give him a wide smile. “No, but you offered lessons for me to answer your questions. Since my kisses are such a hardship, I thought I’d offer you a way out of distastefully having to pay your debt.”

“The arrangement-”

“Exactly. It was an arrangement, not a Deal. I wouldn’t want anyone to say that I’d treated you like Orcs treat human women, forcing them against their will,” I reply and let my smile curdle. “Unless you do enjoy kissing me, in which case you insulted me to cover your desire, and I’ve no desire to kiss you presently in that case.”

Horatia’s laughter shatters the stillness of Gaius’ stunned reaction, and, luckily, we’re inside the wards about the camp with the noise she makes.

“But I was to pay you with a kiss after each session of transport,” protests Gaius.

I let the chains rasp against each other while I regard him flatly, my sour smile still firmly in place. “Yes, but I also said I didn’t expect payments immediately afterwards. However, we won’t be travelling that way again, it seems. I no longer desire such kisses, given your attitude, and you don’t want to pay differently.”

“Why?”

“The thing is playing you,” Vitus interjects with a sneer, and I give into temptation.

Fixing him with a glare, I push my will into Unnerving Gaze, more than a little surprised at how easily it takes hold. I can taste grief clench at him briefly when it feeds him the visage of a deceased loved one for a fraction of a second. The scent spicing the air helps clear some of the wolves’ stench.

“What was that?” Vitus yells, surging to his feet. A flanged mace suddenly in his hand has the others rising to their feet.

“Is there something out there?” Horatia asks with a gladius already in each hand.

Vitus points his weapon at me and moves forward carefully, his face devoid of colour. “It did something to me.”

“Sit down, Vitus, you don’t look to have taken any harm, and the Pact would have lashed out if she’d intended actual injury.” Horatia retorts but doesn’t sheath her blades.

“You believe it’s tale?” demands Vitus incredulously.

Stepping around the girl’s Horatia moves to intercept him. “I did one better. I confirmed Sidero is bound within our Pact. We left the wording of it open in case there were any Priests among the legionaries that accompanied us, and she, it seems, fits the criteria.”

Vitus’ fury brings colour back to his face even as he snarls in Horatia’s direction. “IT!”

“Sidero fit the criteria, so it seems she is a servant of Order,” reiterates Horatia. “Perhaps you both could not provoke each other.”

“It insults us continually and you expect me to play nice?”

Inger glances at me uncomfortably and sits back down again. “Aside from her verbal barbs, she’s actually contributed more so far than you have Vitus. Isn’t this for the benefit of your deity?”

Titus puts a restraining hand on Vitus’ arm and fixes me with a reproving glare. “What did you do that provoked this reaction?”

“A little Power that allows the target to see the face of a deceased loved one,” I reply, and flutter my eyelids. “Am I all scary suddenly?”

“Why did you use that on Vitus?” asks Quinctus, though dead boy doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting under the shelter.

I’m tempted to ask who’s paying my fee, but these answers benefit me at least. “He needs to stop referring to me by it, bitch, Devil or anything else derogative.”

“You’ve not used the friendliest terms to others either,” chides Inger.

“I didn’t start with the insults, but I don’t believe in letting a grudge die of old age. I made my request to be called Sidero clear. Until you all stop treating me as a piece of filth, I’m disinclined to give you any leeway, or make things comfortable.”

Horatia sighs and steps back towards where she’d been sitting. “Would you be willing to start afresh?”

The growl of my laughter has a few of them shifting uncomfortably before I bother to sneer out a reply. “Why should I?”

“Haven’t you already given out plenty of insults in return?”

“Plenty of insults? I’m not sure you quite understand how offensive I find being summoned into this situation.”

“Well, aren’t you a fussy little Devil,” sneers Vitus and finds his spine enough to glare at me. I let his gaze lock on my own and push my Power across that momentary link to drop him sobbing in grief.

The others glance between each other before they focus their attention back on me.

“Seems he really misses someone. Perhaps he needs someone to console him in his time of grief,” I offer with mock-concern.

“Stop it,” demands Titus, stepping between us, but I keep my grip on Vitus’ will and his visions don’t stop.

“I’m not physically hurting him. Inger asked if I knew the conditions of your Pact—and while I don’t—it seems I’ve found at least one loophole.”

“Aren’t you impeding the expedition right now?” asks Senca, turning a war-hammer over in his hand and moves around flanking me. The enchanted metal in its head is clear to my senses but I don’t mess with its balance yet.

I wave a reproving finger and echo the motion in my chains. “We’re not travelling right now, so it seems he doesn’t need to stop bawling. Your wards are nicely keeping the sound from attracting notice. Or are you going to attack me? Does that fit in a loophole as well?”

“Aren’t you pushing things a little far, Sidero?”

“I haven’t found the cliff’s lip yet. I’ll let you know when there is only air underfoot,” I say and actual amusement sparks through me. “Ten years in a small group as dysfunctional as this, you’ll be lucky if none of you kill each other. Whoever he’s seeing apparently, he didn’t mourn them properly. Surely my Willpower can’t be that much stronger than a High Priest’s own. Wait, I bet his service to Mithras boosts Charisma instead of Willpower. Pity I don’t think his God’s light shines out his starfish.”

Releasing the Power after one final push, Vitus’ wail stabs at me like the damned Souls. I keep a straight face even as memories remind me of places I’ve seen far too often. Before Vitus can regain his sword it swoops from the ground in the grasp of Metal Control only to stab downwards into the snow before him.

“Might want to put that away,” I say in a mock-concerned tone. “You could hurt yourself on it.”

Titus steps between him and the blade and points him back to the campfire. The low words he offers clearly not meant for my ears. “Sit down Vitus. Sidero will use your own rage against you, and grief can be like poison in someone’s heart.”

When Vitus gets to his feet, I hope he’ll push past Titus, but I don’t even get to see his expression when he half-staggers back to his spot.

“I didn’t like the height we were at when I could see the ground,” says Titus, though I’ve no idea why the sudden desire for small talk, maybe he’s hoping he can make it so that the past few minutes never happened.

“Really, how remarkable that I didn’t notice. There was the possibility those screams were mating calls. Human cultures are so weird,” I say letting the sarcasm soak my words. “Perhaps one of you could explain proper customs and manners, you all seem such experts in good relationships.”

Titus sighs and starts again, “Sidero.”

“Yes. Titus?”

“While I didn’t like the height, and I was unprepared for the experience, my prayers showed we’ve travelled further than I expected or hoped,” admits Titus, keeping a straight face even while he avoids meeting my gaze. “I took Gaius’ statement to Vitus as intended to brush his insult aside, but you obviously took it as an insult to yourself. I don’t believe any of us can understand you properly at present. I had heard Hell’s denizens played word games that were a serpent’s nest, but I hadn’t expected many of your reactions. I certainly would never have expected you to manipulate someone to help Elven girls.”

The moment he pauses I decide to throw him a rope in his meandering. “Is there a point or are you wandering in the conversational snow hoping not to fall off a cliff?”

“How can we repair this arrangement between yourself and Gaius?”

Rolling my shoulders, I crack my neck and enjoy Titus’ look of discomfort at my delay. “Your primary concern being that I go back to hauling your butts to the site faster than you can manage.”

“Bluntly put, but yes.”

It’s so tempting just to twist the barbs in and hang them all on hooks of his own making—instead I glance at Gaius. “Tell me why your scent tastes of lust when you look at me.”

Gaius shifts nervously under my stare but eventually speaks up. “You’re exotic and confident, many women worry about scars, but you use them as an artwork. Your body is like a blade elaborately decorated but honed to a keen sharpness. Others might find your skin tone strange, but I find it only adds to your allure.”

“Exotic looks have gotten more than a few men in trouble with Elves,” murmurs Titus.

Titus’ comment drags my attention from the compliment that I’m unsure how to accept.

“If Senca goes near those girls, they won’t need to kill him; I will—Pact and Contract be damned.”

My low growling of his name must carry the way Senca stiffens across the camp from us.

“Why would a D-“

I hiss, and he stops immediately. “Careful, Titus. You’ve been scoring high for goodwill, even if you lost some points the other evening. I hope you won’t toss all that goodwill away.”

“Kyton.”

“Wasn’t what you were going to say, but go on,” I order, and snap my fingers, then again in quick succession when Titus grinds his teeth.

“Why would a Kyton care about Elven girls?”

I just wait and smile at them both for a time before Gaius sighs and fills Titus in on Inger’s deal.

“Really, but I asked you several questions, and you answered them,” grumbles Titus.

“I answered questions about the immediate situation, so count yourself lucky,” I say. “Plus, you would have used Devil.”

Titus gives me a baffled look that matches the scent I can taste from Inger. “It matters to you that much?”

“How would you like me to call you a Novice of Janus?”

“I’m loyal to Mars,” rebuffs Titus gruffly, not noticing the glare Martialis shots at his back for his arrogant tone.

“There you go. Devils serve Asmodeus’s Hierarchy of Sin, but Kytons serve our Mother. One I can stand some days, the other I despise. Aren’t I nice to give you some free information?”

“You can only stand your Mother?”

“What’s the second line of the prophecy?” I say and wave his complaint about it being Inger’s arrangement away. “I’ve even been nice and given you free answers including a multi-part answer at that. Do you want an answer to my attitude about the girls and my Mother?”

“I’ve heard what she’ll easily relinquish about the girls. So has Horatia,” states Inger, coming close to the discussion. “I’d prefer you not use up all the answers we might get from her asking about either.”

“Getting information is sometimes a matter of how you ask, along with what, Inger. Though we’re all ignoring Gaius and given the honest answer he gave, I’ll agree to continue our arrangement after all. Unless you two care to observe us kissing?” I ask and wave them back towards the campfire.

“You’re just using that arrangement to block us when you don’t want to answer a question,” Inger observes.

“Thank you Sidero, I’ll leave you to your exchange,” Titus replied. “We’ve already covered far more distance than our plans had expected. At this rate, we’ll be there in four or five days even if we don’t travel for as far each day. I’d like to travel by night since we’re all protected by the cold, and there are fewer predators about.”

Inger walked away even before Titus had finished with his explanation. The moment he turned away, I pulled the chains into Inventory and caught Gaius’ renewed surge of lust. Drawing him in I press myself against his body and kiss him fiercely. Rubbing myself against him draws a low groan of pleasure, and the tips of my tongue darting between his lips prompt him to respond in kind. His hard hands cupping my hips drew me tighter against him, and he brushes his tongue hesitantly across my lips the second before I release him.

Taking in Gaius blinking at me in confusion at my sudden halt, I give him a flicker of a smile and restore my chains in place. “An acceptable improvement. Don’t we have a journey to continue?”

Clearing his throat, he struggled to shift gears, and murmured an objection. “That was only a brief kiss.”

“I don’t know. It seemed to get you perked up.”

“If we’re travelling again during daylight, can you do so closer to the ground, Sidero?” Titus asks, the dirty old man apparently not having taken attention from us.

“Normally I can do that day or night, but the blizzard cut all visibility. While it would have been nothing to me. I didn’t think any of you would enjoy hitting a boulder when we were going faster than a charging horse.”

My explanation gained a swallow from Vitus, but Martialis oddly looks intrigued. “How long could you maintain that for, and how high could you travel?”

“Until I got bored, and higher than you’d have air to breathe,” I reply honestly. He suddenly wears a thoughtful look as if I’ve inspired plans within him.

Unsurprisingly, Vitus scoffs instead of packing gear like the others. “Air to breathe, of course-”

I’m happy to let him run his mouth, so I’m surprised when Inger speaks up. “There isn’t, if you go too high in the mountains. It makes your lungs ache like you can’t get enough air. You can even get nose bleeds and pass out. Seriously, the more you open your mouth to scoff at her, the more I think she’s telling the truth. Yet I’m the one that she tricked, not you.”

“You don’t trick pieces of shit; you just scrap them off.” I say and spin the chairs about before I set one near each, ready to go. “Titus, will your gadget lead us right to the site, or does it only point North?”

“I’ll have to divine for it once we’re closer. But we travel North until we hit nothing but ice floes. Once we find them, we then follow the course of the land towards the rising sun, and it will turn further northwards until the peninsula ends.”

The explicit instructions sound interesting but raise more questions. “How do you know this?”

“Mars sent a dream and the High Commander saw the lands laid out like a map. The tip of Mars’ sword struck into tip of a peninsula that stretched among the ice floes.”

“Alright, I’ll stop along the way through the night. If I taste any threats about, I’ll stay close to the ground.”

I so want to know the complete prophecy, but still. “Titus.”

“Yes?”

“Kyton births are rare. They can be centuries or more apart—my eldest sister has had only one—and we treat each child as precious. We might hurt ourselves for fun, but we’ll kill whoever messes with our sisters. I’m not sure I’d have felt the same way if they were boys, and certainly not adults, but no way I’d leave girls behind.”

The words come out quickly, and they’re mostly the truth. Those closest to Mother have the least children each but there have been regiments birthed from some. Millions of years is a long time to be alive and have off-spring, and the Kyton brood-mothers in their bizarre Class transformations can have dozens at once.

“Interesting that you protect your family,” Titus says, and giving me an assessing look. “Why answer my earlier question?”

“Like I said, you’ve been scoring high as far as respect goes, and then you were polite enough to answer mine.”

We don’t set off again until it’s nearly full dark, but with the longer nights that gives us heaps of time for travel. The stone chairs get padded with fur blankets, and Vitus isn’t the only one that adds additional restraints to their chair. Even with how secure he’s tied himself in, his eyes are closed tight even before I lift them skywards.

Metal Control’s level advanced through the night, and to force its limits I set angled windbreaks floating ahead of the chairs. The few times he peeks, Vitus’ heart goes pounding when one floats incredibly close, but I’ve no intention of allowing a Pact backlash with my mental foot to the floor for the girls, if not the expedition. By the time the night ends, we’re no longer racing along at the same pace but faster than a car is allowed in most of Sydney’s streets. Even if I can’t match highway speeds yet, but I’m enjoying the progress.

“The ground was blurring by, Sidero,” Iarien remarks when we set down near morning. The trio of girls had calmly enjoyed the flight even when our course took us away from the shoreline and forced me to lift higher. I’m sure I even saw them taking turns in reverie through the night.

Watching the rest of them make camp, I don’t immediately reply, but I speak up when she goes to walk away. “Did the three of you have fun?”

“Indeed, it was delightful, though when we fly fast, the air stings my eyes,” replies Iarien.

The makeshift goggles I’d provided were held loosely in her hand, and as she turns them over, my first thought slips out. “I hope you kept the goggles in place to avoid risking your eyes.”

I regret expressing my concern the moment I speak, even though the only scent that reacts is Iarien’s. Her confusion spikes hard, and she gets a thoughtful expression.

“You are a strange one, Sidero. I’ve been studying magic, and my father’s lessons included details of entities from various Planes, but the way he described Kytons is quite different to yourself.”

“Do tell?”

“He described them as very cruel entities driven by experiencing physical pleasure through the physical pain of themselves and others. However, you seem to take great delight in causing emotional discomfort. I don’t have to understand their words to see the games you’re playing with the Humans.”

“The pact at present limits me,” I offer noncommittally, aware of how most Kyton would behave. We might consider our children precious, but it wasn’t a consideration extended to any other species.

“That’s a convenient reply, given that it doesn’t include us, and you found out we were children by talking. That is rare, given most Kytons—from reports—would move straight to torturing those they find in a vulnerable state.”

They’re children, but the Elven childhood contains a sizeable education, it seems.

“I’m the only Kyton that wears red chains. I wouldn’t hope to get the same treatment from others,” I admit, not wanting to leave her vulnerable to confusion later.

“Would you answer me something?” I ask, suddenly curious of how much knowledge the Elven children might possess.

“It depends on the question?” Iarien asks, and her scent finally grows wary.

“How many classes do you receive training for before you make a choice?”

Her scent of relief is intense, and it makes me wonder what she didn’t want me asking. “Until we find the right fit, so it can vary. I studied jewellery making for a decade, but after consideration, changed to magic. I might yet change again, but father’s love of magic means it gives him joy to teach me”

Before I can ask further questions, she almost skips to join the others with Horatia.