Chained - 10

“We’ll start slow, but things will get progressively faster, so wear these.”

The goggles aren’t much, more metal wrap-around sunglasses with a narrow slit to prevent anything significant from taking out an eye. I can’t even claim credit having lifted the idea from a museum exhibit. Since they all have protection from the cold, none of them should get skin stuck on steel.

“What are these for?” Gaius asks, taking it from me without hesitation.

“In case the protections give out while we’re travelling fast. I’m told that healing flesh and bones are one thing, but healing eyes takes more power. A ball of ice hitting you in the eye when we’re going at a horse’s gallop would hurt.”

Explanation time over, I float one to each and repeat the details for the lost girls’ benefit. The dialogue from Peter Pan starts up in my memory and makes me want to laugh.

Gaius looks nervously at my smile, and when I tilt my head questioningly, he answers quickly enough. “You look far too happy, Sidero.”

“I’ve been thinking about your cock inside in me,” my reply isn’t the truth, but I had spent time while they rested thinking about riding him.

I can smell his embarrassment but also his curiosity, so I’ll take that as promising. He busies himself with putting on the goggles and misses the looks of pity sent his way.

Heading out as soon as they’re all set, I don’t rise us over the ridgeline but take us towards the coast. Visibility is still shit, but I’ve already cleared a path to the beach. Though the map makes the route easy to follow, I stick to a slow walking pace over the frost killed trees. Turning northwards when the ground becomes open, I extend a grid of chains before me and push northwards. The chairs clamped together in a rollercoaster line, make them easier to control than if they were a trail of little ducklings. I increase the pace every chance I get, though I’m careful to monitor Eternal Map’s contour lines.

I set a chain minion in a single strand of a chain, task it with regularly swaying the end, and let its beat brush my awareness. The regular tempo makes the passage of time clear to progress Time Sense. Though I wonder if I’ll come to regret being aware of how much time is passing in Hell. Its tempo takes my awareness away from the emotions churning away in me. My new form converts pain to pleasure, the rest I get to deal with on my own—horror, disgust, the urge to gouge out my own eyes or those of others.

* * *

It’s close to three hours before a flag goes up. Circling back, I set the chairs behind a ridgeline I can see in the overlay. The clamps have frozen over, so it’s a moment to change each one before I can set them down in a circle. Checking on the last notifications shows some decent progress.

[Time Sense [B] (1->2)

Metal Control [Ad] (3->4)]

Titus approaches me while the rest take care of Mortal secret business or whatever they think it is. “How far have we come Sidero?”

His casual tone stirs the rage, and I managed not to use my glare on him. All the rage I’m bottling up, something is fucking going to eat. “Do I look like your guide? Why don’t you pray to Mars and see if he gives two shits to answer?”

“That’s not helpful, Sidero.” he finally replies, his tone oh so reasonable. I can see him grinding his teeth, the muscles flexing under the helm’s side guards.

“That’s such a shame. I’m taking us north at a decent pace; the rest is up to you. Be sure to let me know if I need to change direction.”

I manage the words in a tone so sickeningly sweet I’m not surprised when the frustration is boiling off him before I’m even halfway done.

“You gave that information previously,” Titus points out and I want to smack him for falling into the same faulty assumptions as Inger. He’s been the calmer of the two, and yet the look of disgust he gave me made his belief clear, let alone the rest of the crap.

“Well, you failed my last test, so no more freebies,” I say, dismissively crossing my arms.

Titus smells confused, and he pauses with a frown before he speaks. “What test?”

“That would be a freebie, and not knowing won’t impede your expedition. Go handle your Mortal needs,” I growl, sick of his stupidity. “Let me know when you want to move off again; I’ll be just on the ridge ahead.”

Spearing a chain into a nearby boulder, Inventory leaves it carved out enough to provide a shelter for a campfire. Though technically, even that’s a freebie, and my chains carry me away before I rip it apart. I don’t move far, just up to the ridgeline; I know I want to hurt something, and I’d almost pay for a Demon to kill right now.

I can see my forearm well enough to work, and I cut flesh from bone. A bracelet of stylised snowflakes, one for every expedition member—maybe I should include one for me. The pleasure of every cut turns bitter with the emotions churning inside me, and I enjoy the difference it makes.

* * *

My swaying timepiece still going strong, I watch my flesh heal, glad the wind takes their conversation away from me. The churning emotions haven’t stopped just brought more memories to the surface that I’ve not thought of in years. Julia’s funeral and Andre’s death keep just playing in my mind. It doesn’t bring pain, so there is no pleasure, just the hollowness of loss. Did I bury myself in surviving Hell to avoid thinking of them?

The metal items Gaius’ carries give his approach away, his very presence interrupting my spiralling thoughts. I can’t taste the Blessing in place but he seems fine in the pitch black.

“Come to pay up?” I ask before he can say a thing.

Gaius blinks in shock. “What?”

“We took a break; you haven’t paid me a kiss as yet,” I remind him, and take a half step toward him.

“Your eyes glow like amber in sunlight when you’re calm; at present, they’re more a vermilion,” observes Gaius.

“Did I ask what colour my eyes are?”

The words come out a growl and I can see his pulse jump, yet he continues to approach despite my gaze fixed on his neck.

Gaius stops close enough I can taste his concern even under the falling snow; his heartbeat sounds so wet and warm as it races along. “You’ve still got your chains in place.”

They disappear, and I take another half step towards him. I am surprised when he dares to lift his hands towards my face; then I catch the spike of desire from him. My hand grabs one of his instead of slapping it, and he freezes, his attention fixed on the latest healing wounds around my wrist.

“Why do you do that to yourself?” He asks almost too softly to hear over the wind, but I taste his concern growing stronger.

“You ask a lot of questions, Master Gaius, but I’ve never heard an offer of payment for answers,” I reply. Reaching out, I brush his neck with a fingertip. The cold doesn’t make him shiver, yet my touch does. The gentle caresses of my claw across skin excite him, and it’s clear where some of his desire comes from.

He desires the danger, a moth to a flame; is the revulsion in his scent all for me?

“I already sold my Soul,” Gaius says, so intent I’m sure he thinks it matters to me.

“But I’ve got a use for your lips, plus other body parts, and you don’t even have to remove them,” I reply. The surge of embarrassment mixed with desire from him sweet across my tongues. “Are you going to pay me or not?”

He doesn’t let go of my hand as he steps forward to close the distance. His other hand cups the side of my face, his thumb caressing my skin. Wind chaffed lips, still warm against my own, while his leather clothing rubs enticingly across my nipples, causing my cunt to twitch. I want more than just a kiss right now, but I’ll keep to our bargain’s limits. Warmth runs up through my core as he timidly slips his tongue across my lips. His mouth tastes of spices and warm, savoury food, without a hint of charcoal among it.

I set my chains loose behind me with a Chain Minion assigned to protect us as I devour his mouth. The heat of the kiss competes with the cold hollowness within. He presses tightly against me, and I enjoy the feel of his erection.

Reaching out, I cup him carefully through his pants—however tempting it is to slide my hand inside—his groan from my touch, fanning the heat within my guts. I let go of his wrist and run fingers through his hair, the motions in time to the kiss’ tempo. His hands roaming my skin possess a hunger that I want to consume me. His tentative caresses down my back flare heat through me even before he wraps his arms around me.

Only when I’m satisfied, do I release him fully, though I allow him to come up for air from time to time. With a last lick across his lips, I step away and enjoy his befuddled expression and the lump in his pants.

The genuine pleasure he’s provided prompts me to give an answer. “On this occasion, I cut myself as a reminder there is a price for everything in life. We’re a bunch of precious snowflakes just waiting for the summer to bring the thaw.”

“Does that mean you’re prodding them to cause things to fall apart?” Gaius asks after long moments trying to shake off a brain-fried state.

My husky laughter starting up catches him by surprise, and I shake my head. “No, I’m prodding them because they’re a bunch of hypocrites that allowed you to sell your Soul. You really shouldn’t have done that, but I hate them allowing it to happen.”

“But why would you-“

He cuts off when my chains rush over me and I raise a finger in warning. “You earned some extra answers from that kiss. But I’ll not repeat answers to questions without a steep cost involved.”

“Why does it offend you that I sold my Soul?” asks Gaius insistently.

“You’ve not earned an honest answer to that and I don’t feel like lying, even with a half-truth, at present.”

I intend the words to be a calm warning, but I hear the frayed edges where my anger rises in them.

“You told me you weren’t worried about the questions I ask,” argues Gaius, and his show of spine makes me smile. I’m not sure how it looks, but I taste his adrenaline spike.

“Original questions are fine to ask, but some you will not get answered without a price paid,” I state, his reaction adding fuel to my anger.

“You already..” Gaius stops and I wait for him to organise his thoughts. “You already said you don’t get my Soul. If you get nothing from this, why are you here? Are you forced to answer the summons?”

I consider all the hurtful lies I could provide and instead tell him the whole truth, sure it will hurt even worse. “Yes, I was given no choice about taking part in this. If you’d been dumb enough to sell your Soul from your own choosing, that would have been one thing. Being part of something they forced you into disgusts me. Your choice still offends me, but in part, it’s because I feel tainted by being a party to it.”

Gaius’ gaze doesn’t leave me, and I see him wince the moment he finishes his reply. “You forced kids into agreeing to be your assassins.”

“It seems that way, but I’m not hearing a question. Since you weren’t here to pay, what were you seeking me for?” I demand not trying to keep my voice calm. The razor-edged words flay the air and carry flames with them as well.

“Titus wants to move out,” Gaius’ quick reply, has me setting off around him.

The wind from the north had stolen the wood smoke away, but when I’m close, the scent confirms their food wasn’t burnt, and Gaius had eaten with the rest.

“Did you cook again Quinctus?” I ask, trying for sweetness, but my honey drops would burn steel.

“If you must know, Senca prepared the food,” Horatia cuts in her tone softer than the words.

“Good for something besides leering Senca, what a surprise,” I snipe, I don’t feel tired, I feel exhausted. I want to open my own guts and go back to Hell, anything to be away from them. The promise of clear blue sky it seems far too good to be true. I’d prefer to be dealing with Devils.

“I lust for your knowledge of metals, not your body, you whore,” objects Senca, and the memory of him staring at my crotch has me laughing.

“There is a difference in desires between the cerebral and the carnal, priest boy, but you can lie to yourself. Did you think I’d be an easy fuck? There are ugly Devils better looking than you and they’ve got an excuse to be arseholes,” I state dismissively.

“Sidero, please would you tell me how far we’ve travelled?” Titus asks, his tone polite.

I look at him sideways and count to ten, yet feeling the rage peak higher with every beat, the glow from my eyes changing hues. “I made it clear you’ll get nothing for free now. We’re making better time than the first day. The rest is in your hands to figure out.”

“We’re twenty miles further north from our last campsite,” Martialis states while picking at his teeth.

I laugh and wave Titus towards him. “There you go, Martialis had your answer. Such wonderful skills at talking with each other you all possess. Now go fuck yourself.”

Horatia considers me for a moment before her glance flicks over the others. “Perhaps because you’ve given them a reason to distrust each other. You showed the flaws in at least one they considered good.”

“Trust or not to trust, that’s their choice, not mine,” I reply.

Ignoring Horatia’s huff, I look at the Elves and switch to their language. “Are you three ready to head out, Iarien?”

The look she gives me is stranger than some Devils with her eye of stars. “Why did you trick her into helping me?”

“If I had asked directly, she wouldn’t have trusted my motives. I figured it was better to trick her into thinking she’d forced a success from me, than getting refused,” I reply honestly. Meeting her gaze dumps nitrogen into the rage inside me, and I notice the colour in the air shift from red to amber.

“What was your reason for wanting her alive?” asks Horatia, and I just smile at her.

The three girls exchange glances, and Iarien speaks up. “Would you tell me if I asked?”

I can smell so much from the three of them, but her reluctance is clear. “You won’t know unless you find the courage to ask.”

“Sidero, what inclined you to get me bought back from the dead?” Iarien asks, after a long pause, almost spitting out the question in her haste. “Please tell me.”

I give her a smile that doesn’t hold a sharpness. “If I’d killed the trolls clean, I would have gotten to the kitchen before you died. I wanted to set things back into order as best I could. When Inger started with her accusations, was when I fed her the rope to hang her expectations.”

“Order?”

“The trolls are chaotic. That Chaos tainted anything they achieved. Taking apart their tribe and its deeds I can—in part—restore Order; which includes the pup killing you,” I explain and see something flicker in her normal eye. Guilt? I taste the air, and her question makes sense. She wants to know why she has a chance at life. Survivor’s guilt, even if she didn’t really survive.

“That was your only reason?”

Iarien’s words are so soft, if I was Mortal I wouldn’t have heard them.

“You’re alive, and you’re looking for reasons why, since the other two are still dead,” I state, and raise a finger when she objects. “Wasn’t a question. I can taste the guilt from you. Did you pick who died first? Were you responsible for them even being caught? Did you give them to the tribe?”

The three of them mutter negatives to each question, and I give them a nod at the last. “It’s a slight comfort, but none of you should blame yourselves for being in the trolls’ larder. I once heard it said the effect of our lives is still in the world while someone remembers us. So, keep the memory of your fallen alive.”

“That’s an odd saying, very philosophical of you, Sidero,” Horatia remarks. “Not what I’d expect a Devil to be suggesting.”

“You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.” I rattle off the phrase and hope my memory hasn’t led me astray as I focus on the girls. “Now, are you three ready to move out?”

“What word?” asks Horatia, with her brow knitting.

“Devil,” I snap, and I don’t just ignore the obvious confusion in Horatia’s scent; I also put her from my mind.

When they acknowledge, I motion the girls to their chairs but don’t bother asking the others. The chairs lifting out of the snow slightly get my message across and they scramble. Once all the chairs are occupied, I lift them up and link them together. I don’t bother constructing the latches this time but changed the connection into chains.

* * *

There is a break in the blizzard before dawn, and the clouds part enough that the land stretches out in a snow-covered wonderland when the sun finally rises. Their last break was hours ago, but I plan to keep pushing until a flag goes up. The night run was boring fifty metres in the air, but at least Gaius’ kisses improved with every break.

As soon as the light is clear enough for the Humans to see how high they are, three flags go up nearly at once. I ignore them for a time and continue to enjoy the view. It’s only when I see another sheltered spot that I come in for a landing. Taking my time to set the chairs down in a neat orderly circle.

The Mediterranean skin tone of Titus, Vitus, and Martialis look almost ashen grey. The chairs drift downwards one after another, leaving the upset trio until last. Each barely kissing the snow’s surface before I let them compress it down. Even when they’d apparently settled, I took my time and pressed each down to ensure they were secure.

“Let me down you bitch,” Vitus’ screams started only a minute into my fun, and I take another ten before air control Sidero bring them into position. I really hope his yells attract something fun, with how he ignores Inger urging quiet.

Seeing they’re still tied in, instead of setting their chairs down carefully, I give them a burst of speed to put them into position and yank them to a halt. Before they can recover, I drop them the last hand’s length. The snow compacts underneath them and unfortunately, I have to rescue Titus, whose chair tries to tip. Happily, Vitus’ green ting gives me enough warning to twist his chair, and bile scents the air, as he sprays Inger and poor, poor Quinctus.

I’m not sure whose glare would do me in first if looks could kill. The dead boy really isn’t happy. I wonder if it’s hard to get the odour of vomit out of mummified flesh.

I give the pair of them a triumphant smile, and motion towards the coastline. “Enjoy your break. I’ll be down by the ice when you want to continue. Gaius, I believe I need paying, whenever you’re done with whatever needs doing.”

Some time at the beach sounds just like what I need right now, not like the cold is going to keep me from sunbathing.

“Bitch!” growls Inger, trying to shake vomit from her clothing.

The laughter feels good echoing through me, but I just walk away. “That’s a bit ruff,” I say, letting the word growl mockingly.

Wading through the snow, I enjoy the sounds of Vitus’ misery that carry to me through the cold still air. The beach itself isn’t anything like we had at home, no nice sand, merely rocks and gravel. Every motion of the ocean breaks the ice along the shoreline. Further out slabs of ice float about on the tide, lost little sheep calved from whatever ice-floe spawned them.

I guess we have that in common.

I’m an addict, a junkie of pleasure, adrift in the ocean, and I’m not even sure I want to find my way to shore.

Somewhere close by are bones cracked open, their frothy soft marrow marinating the sea breeze. A breath I don’t need brings the scent of slow decay across my tongue. It smells awful, so thick with fat, not the sweet smell of fresh lean marrow, yet makes me tingle with memories invoked. My brain brings up memories of my bones cracked and shattered like the bones I smell now must be, and the remembered agony makes me wet.

Memories of events that should be physical or emotional torture invoke pleasure but fail to push back the emptiness gnawing away at my insides. The pleasure twisting around inside me, riding my nerves, makes me feel cheap, yet catches my breath in the back of my throat and tingles along my spine. Burning through my core and pulsing through my brain. Twisting with the sensation, I feel my feet grinding pebbles into jagged pieces as I writhe in place muscles pulling taut. Sitting on that razor’s edge when too much ecstasy becomes agony, it’s burning within my brain.

I’m so close to orgasm that it should be an inferno of pain, and yet for me more pleasure. Sitting on the cusp of exploding, yet the hollowness holds me back, restrains me, and denies me release. I want it to stop yet also never end. Despite the rush it gives, I hate it. I want genuine pleasure, not the twisted perversion of it I’ve experienced now for years.

The girl’s body chewed up and mauled on the table, mocking me, pulls me back again and again. Ripped open flesh of the innocent, the agony of her death, giving real meaning to pain, and it might well have happened only because I was playing with my toys.

Iarien has survivor’s guilt. But what do I have? A monster’s lusting, or an unquenchable appetite? Or only guilt for all I’ve done?

He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.

The line that follows that in the quote mocks me, considering I’ve spent years raining death down on Demons crawling from the Abyss.

I need to find Order within myself, structure, limits, or I’m going to grind the broken pieces of myself into dust.

Yet another fix of pleasure won’t hurt, will it?

The spike’s edge scrapes skin from my palm so easily, cutting and repeatedly scratching until the wound heals and the scar remains. In the end, two eyes set in a cave mouth shaped around the hollow of my palm, and the Abyss is staring back at me. From the eyes are tiny dots, formed to show the tears of the monster within.

Caught up in the carving, I didn’t even register the exact moment of my release, but I feel the ice forming down my leg.

“Fuck.”

The word crosses my lips in a sigh.