Chained - 6

Once everyone acknowledged their readiness, a chant from Martialis twists the air, words disappearing from my awareness as their Celestial tones rasp against my hearing. As the echo of the last word vanishes, its poisoned honey dissolves the surrounding chamber. The others land off balance, but as I fall, I drive chains downwards. Even with my reactions, I’m still ankle deep in it, but as they struggle to free themselves from knee deep powder snow, I get to take in the scenery.

The others are still wearing what they’d worn in the southlands when I’d first met them. Yet none of them shiver despite their warm exhalations causing plumes in the freezing cold air. All that is except for Quinctus and me, since Undead and Devils have no need of breath. Thick clouds pregnant with promises of snow and ice fill the sky overhead, but I can still see the heat of the rising sun behind them. The morning sun sits further above the horizon than it had been in the south. Its position makes me curious if we’ve come east and north, or if the transport wasn’t instantaneous after all.

The air holds the taste of brine, rich maple, and birch sap, as if trees have exploded in the cold. Our hillside position gives an unobstructed view of a massive, ice-filled stretch of water as far out as I can see. While their tastes somehow tell my Wyrm Senses their names in another tongue, my memory lets me identify English names for trees I’ve not seen since my prior life.

Dragon lineage Hell spawn or not, all of Mother’s daughters possess a Dragon’s memory. I don’t know why the trees match what I know in appearance and scent. From diamond barked ash, the opposite branching of the maple, the patterns of and birch. Yet after so many years recalling endless details of lectures, I accept my memories for truth.

A gesture from Titus catches my gaze, and as I glance in his direction, I see a plum line’s weighted end lifting upwards. The faintest taste of poisoned honey makes me aware of a Divine Blessing at play. The purpose of it seems clear when the end moves to point almost ninety degrees offline to the rising sun before he tucks it away.

When the first ski appears in Inger’s hand, I didn’t catch where it came from, but with the next I see her draw it from a bag at her waist. Each of them appears to be a crude cross-country ski, with bindings made of leather, yet they’re not simple things, the polished wood, even their bindings, taste of magic.

As she passes them out among the group, as soon as they have a pair in hand, they’re standing atop the snow, unbothered by its grasp. With quick motions they’re each soon secure in the bindings and standing atop snow. Each ensures their skis sit at an angle to prevent racing away downhill.

The conversation between them is minimal as Inger, walking barefoot across snow, checks and corrects only minor flaws in the fit of their bindings. When they set off, I’m left to make my own way and my chains make great war machine legs as I follow them through the snow. With their path barely marked by their magical skis, if a wind comes up and I lose sight of them, I wonder how I’m expected to find them.

The silent treatment makes me wonder if they expect me to beg someone to talk to me. Yet the silence is so sweet, a chance to listen to nature instead of screams. With a trick my sisters don’t have, I flatten chains together to make a swing seat and allow the chains to carry me along.

I send out another chain ahead of me its weighted end turned into a tripod foot as I press it down into the snow. One chain lashes out in response to an idle thought and the sheer cold in its metal death rays a tree. As the tree’s bark explodes from the cold, Inger shoots me a glare along the party’s line of travel and her contempt just makes me smile.

While their skis let them glide soundlessly over the snow, I’m crunching through it, I’ll see how I can get under their skin. The way sound carries in the cold everything for kilometres has likely already heard the crunch of my passage. With that thought, I loosen my control on the chains just slightly, allowing them to rustle and jingle. If I’m lucky, I might get to fight a few things for experience. That in mind, I focus on my Profile and change my experience allocation; a split purely between Hunter and Artificer seems like an idea until they catch up.

[Experience Allocation confirmed:

Hunter 50% weighted

Artificer 50% weighted]

I hack off the top of a boulder and push an illusion of intelligence into my chains; it’s a simple matter to tell it to carry me following behind Gaius and I carve as we travel.

[Chain Minion [M] (2->3)]

That was nice. It had been a while since the system acknowledged me pushing that power.

The occasional experience gain adds up slowly but shows the experience split isn’t working for the result of the rune carving. At least Embed Mana isn’t the only thing leveling, Eternal Map increases as we move along, and I take care to note landmarks along the way.

* * *

The sun still hidden behind the clouds is nearly straight overhead when I finally hear a roar. The minion in the chains tries to pull me away, and I crush the life from its awareness. The stupid thing was too intent on following my instructions when it was clearly no longer applicable.

The thudding sounds of something racing towards me are clear. Its passage breaking branches that fill the air with snapping gunshot-like retorts. When I see the thing at last, I scream for joy and charge. Even in snow deeper than a man, its legs hold its body clear, rather than causing it to spray away like a boat through surf. A mammoth sized bear with rock-like protrusions from its flesh.

When the beast had burst into sight, it had shouldered aside a tree I’d need to stretch my arms to encircle. As we charge together, the trunk comes down with an ear-splitting noise. Sweet maple scent is rich in the air, providing an extra delight as it rolls across my tongue and our dance starts. Sap sprays the air, as four chains stab forward. The dense pelt was unaffected by the unnatural cold within them.

Its movements don’t contain the pain I’d hoped, though at least I taste copper, as it swipes at me with a paw the size of my torso. The scythe-shaped claws giving me the perspective of a mouse versus cat conflict. But I’m not a mouse.

[Species: Polar Dire Bear

Level: 41

Health: 1,219 (1,435)

Defence: 123

Melee Attack Power: 164

Combat Skills: Bite [M] (4), Claw [M](6), Maul [Ad] (23)

Details: These magical bears survive on a diet primarily of meat but resort to vegetation in lean times. Those found in coastal regions feed on lesser bears, various breeds of seals and swim to hunt shark; those inland mainly consume elk and other large animals.

]

I let the chains drop me into the snow. Yet the swipe is so fast it still clips me as it sweeps by overhead. Pleasure pulses through flesh where a boulder’s shrapnel had left me untouched, its strike makes me bleed. A rune tossed to follow the path of its swing let loose the taste of charred hair. As it dives forward to chomp at me, chains push me high. Though its course threatens to tangle them, I draw the chains up as I drop onto its back. Spikes near my hands change to blades as I surf it and toss a handful of fresh fire runes at its head. The combined explosion shows exposed skull through charred flesh. The poor stupid beast shouldn’t have responded to my lure. Even as it bellows in rage, its head arcs back and I cut its throat.

[Combat Summary:

Polar Dire Bear x1

Total Experience gained: 2,225

Artificer: + 1,112

Hunter: + 1,112

Artificer Level Up!

]

My ‘companions’ paused in their journey a distance away, but even as my flesh knits, they set off again without a word. Once its death throes cease, I drop into the pooled blood already chilling in the cold, I let it soak over my flesh and chains before I haul myself aloft to follow their path.

Lips curl as I feel the excitement of the battle and the pleasure of my injuries both ebb. I decide to make my own fun since they all have a stick up their bum.

“I put my hand upon her toe, Ya Ho! Ya Ho!”

The words in English bring back memories of times when soaking in blood would have been unthinkable. Now, well, now it’s just another day of my week ending in y. As I follow their parade my marching song bringing stares of rage from Inger. Some things bring all the joy to my yard, even if she does not know what I’m singing about.

* * *

On the bank I see their course taking them over the thin river ice and allow them more time to get clear. The magic in their skis is obviously preventing any weight pressing down, as the eight of them so close together should shatter it. Stepping out on a thicker section of ice spiderwebs under my foot spread and I retreat to the shore.

As the last in their parade reaches the far side, my chains hoist me high into the air. Plates at the end of the chain provide a stable surface, as I have them draw me away from the river and then catapult me forward. Airborne, I shrink the chains into trailing streamers behind me as I impact the ice. It provides as much resistance as a balloon to a nail, and my dive reaches the riverbed in moments.

The water is rapidly frosting around my chains, and I swirl them as Mother did to keep it from becoming ice as I try to push off. All too late though, the ice is freezing fast around the chains, so I pull them into my inventory. I feel the pressure of storing the mass of my chains with all the other equipment I’m carrying, and the system acknowledges my effort.

[Inventory [J] (6->7)]

Which is just as well, considering the ice block I’m in must go as well. Naked, vulnerable for the first time in years, the void my dragging the ice in left implodes. The walls of water hit me unevenly from all sides and spins me around. I’ve no need for breath, or warmth, but the motion is still disorientating, and I tumble.

Tumbled by the water, and the memory of being dumped hard in the surf. This time neither of the girls are here to save me, as I impact the river bottom again, I smash against a rock. The feel of it giving me something to focus on I grab for it, digging black nails into stone as momentum expends itself against my grip.

Peering around I see where I entered the water, the ice left by the absolute cold of my chains, a comet strike pointing downwards from the surface. Changing position against the boulder, I push off and go through the remembered motion of breaststroke, though it’s been years. The system though, is quick to acknowledge my efforts, even if my muscles are unused to the motions.

[Swimming Unlocked!

Swimming (1)]

Against the river’s current I continue to push, the strength in my infernal flesh making progress easy despite my lack of skill. The notifications come along again and again, the last comes as I get my feet under me on the far side.

[Swimming (11->12)]

Rising from the river I see they’re actually waiting, and I give Gaius a smile as he takes in the scars I’ve decorated myself with. Brushing my hands down my body, I shed water as he looks over the eyed-flowers, birds, vines that climb from my feet along my body and across my bald scalp. Though his focus seems drawn to the trunk of the tree growing up my abdomen along my sternum. Its bare branches arcing along the curve of my breasts and pointing towards my nipples. Either that or he just likes where the tap root is drinking from. As he catches my smile he looks away.

As my feet hit the shore, I retrieve my chains and the sudden weight of them sinks my feet into the soft mud. The cracking noise startles them as I eject the ice cube behind me and it continues rolling, crushing the thin ice along the shoreline.

“Did you enjoy wasting time?” Senca growls as I come closer.

“A bath was required after being downwind of your stench,” I reply, and let my smile broaden. “Every time you open your mouth, I wonder what crawled up your arse and died.”

“We’ve another hour of travel time before we’ll need to stop and set up wards for the night,” Inger states, even as she starts off.

* * *

“You unsettled Gaius yesterday, lying to him that our Pact extends to you. I’ve told him the truth, so the weakness you were trying to develop in our expedition’s ranks is at an end.”

Senca’s calm statement draws my gaze to him, and now I know how Gaius got his shit together. A comfortable lie from someone you trust is always better for your nerves than truth from a stranger.

“What truth is that?”

I ask, keeping my tone curious. He doesn’t even bother to look away when my gaze catches his own, but I behave myself and don’t push my Power towards him. Since he’s a High Priest, likely Dread Gaze wouldn’t take effect, and if it did, I could see it being an impediment to the expedition.

“A Holy Pact won’t extend to an Infernal since they worship Dark Powers,” Senca declares, and I see his surprise at my continual calm.

“It’s good you know so much. Devils! Aren’t they always licking the feet of one Dark Power or another? Surely every one of them, must long for nothing but dragging Souls to Hell. Right Gaius?”

I’m glad I kept the words’ sarcasm free even as something goes wrong. The slow push of Mana finds a flaw beneath the stone’s surface and crumbles it to dust. Power backlashes from the rune and drags across flesh, drawing a hiss of pleasure I don’t suppress. Though the sudden leering expression on Senca’s face makes me wish he’d wear a hood like Quinctus does.

[Resistance: Mana Unlocked

Resistance: Mana [L] (1)

Health: -14]

My real target flinches at the spike of pleasure and I catch him looking at the pack where I know he’s stored the disk.

As my fingers heal, another member of our parade speaks up.

“We’re all High Priests in the service of our Deities, we know what we’re doing.”

Vitus’ arrogant tone would be better off not coming from someone struggling to handle his first turn at cooking. The scent of the burning meat and too much oil makes me want to gag. I’m so glad I no longer need food.

“Indeed, why would Holy Pacts extend to worshipers of Dark Powers? Did I have you worried Master Gaius?” I ask, with my amusement clear in my tone.

“Yes, you did,” replied Gaius, his cautious look well matched by the position opposite me at the camp. Even though I’m barely within the circle of the night’s ward, he’s not sitting close to the fire. Even as he finishes speaking, his gaze goes back to his pack.

The words are clean with truth, and I hold my tongue even as my smile twists with delight at the High Priests’ stupidity. Their arrogance makes me wonder if they can determine the Pact’s state after it’s set in place. I’d taken Hunter for a different reason, but I don’t mind multiple benefits. It had surprised me about having to pick a focus for worship, but my choice worked well when their Pact linked to me.

“I don’t know how your masters learnt of our Pact,” Vitus sneers. “Your lies are as vile as you are. Once we no longer have a need for you, I’ll take delight in kicking you back to Hell.”

“I tasted the Pact sitting on Gaius, I didn’t need to be told; it’s stuck on all of you. Its syrupy sweetness is enough to give someone a sugar rush. Magic tastes so yummy, especially when in use by stupid people.”

I let a broad smile show in my veil’s gap, and the muscles in Vitus’ jaw bulge. It adds a moment of lovely amusement as I wonder if I can make him crack a tooth.

“Your provocations mean nothing, Devil,” Vitus states dismissively after far too long a pause, his mouth twisting as if he wants to spit.

“How does it feel knowing your Soul is expendable?”

I purr out my words as my tongue flicks out to savour the anger in the air. The acidic bile of his rage has bubbled against the air so teasingly all day. Everything time he looked at a tree, or snow-covered shrub, I thought he was going to burst. His continually affronted gaze had made me sure of the source of his righteous venom and indignation. I settle down quietly, and only when he turns back to focus on cooking do I pour more poison into his ear.

“The Deity you’ve spent your life sucking up to needs something. Now you’re told to play in the snow and don’t get a say. Not happy out here in the wilderness, are you? Poor Vitus, not so much important as a puppet. Do you feel his hand up your arse waggling your lips?”

[Power: Seed Doubts Unlocked!

Seed Doubts (1->3)]

My words carry a light jesting tone that works well to mock with the sneer I fix on my lips, and his teeth become a snarling maw before I’m done. While I’ve presently little idea what Seed Doubts does, it sounds like it might be fun to play with.

“Enough!”

Titus doesn’t raise his voice, but his words are an order that grabs attention. I lick the air to draw on the essence of it, and it’s sweet, not the posturing of a bully but a ripe fullness of command. Crunchy like a ripe apple and I wonder if there is a worm to be found. Vitus’ sneer turns into a sulk as he settles back to ruin more good ingredients.

Picking up a handful of pebbles, I taste each one till at last I find one with a core of flawless stone. I smile as I close my fingers around it and absorbing excess rock to leave a small but perfect cube sitting unseen in my palm. I consider it for a time holding it cupped in the palm of my hand and concede it wouldn’t survive the extreme cold among my chains.

After a bounce on my palm, I toss it over my shoulder, and smile as Inger’s glare falls on me when it lands. What comes to mind is risky and could enrage Mother, but I’ll need to take a chance. The cube of Mother’s infernal steel is as perfectly formed as Inventory and Metal Control between them can make it. Pure Order is merciless, just like Hell, and so I can only hope the nature of the steel won’t prevent what I need to do.

“To create a Divine Focus for a concept rather than a Deity takes a bit of work. Apparently, it requires hours and hours of prayer with an object representative of the concept being worshipped.”

My impersonation of one of my professor’s dry lecturing monotones, make Vitus’ scent spark with rage again.

“Why are you trying to lecture us on religious matters, Hell spawn? Blessings drawing power from petty concepts are nothing compared to the might of a Deity.” Vitus demands, ignoring Titus’ warning for calm.

“I was told that on a building site, since workers need to ensure their tools are true, a master artisan will set a stone that they’ve determined to be perfectly square. That way the junior craftsmen could readily check the trueness of their tools using any side, to make sure they are perfect and in true Order. A concept won’t betray you for its personal need, unlike puny Gods that exist on one world alone.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“Order loves things that are perfect and regular,” I state, the words true, yet there is no enlightenment in his gaze. I wonder how much provocation they’ll need to figure out that I don’t worship what they believe.

I cup the cube in my palm as I settle down to practice Channelling. As I focus on the Order represented by the cube and absolute binding agreements, I try to follow Julia’s meditation advice from what feels a lifetime ago. Deep regular breaths even if unneeded, and not forcing the thoughts, but dwelling on the regular shape resting against my skin. Each time they skitter away I let the thought run, before bringing my mind back to my breathing’s pace and the stone’s shape.

Persistent continual correction is Order in its own way.

[ Channelling (1->2) ]

I ignore the comments that eventuate when the others finally discover the arsehole produces inedible shit.

Despite the wards their shift changes under Titus guidance during the night, at least one person on watch with me always. Before they’ve even woken to face the day, my Channelling is far higher, and my perfect cube tastes of Order. Focusing on a link among the inner most chains, I allow more of its metal to come forth, and form a filigree net to hold it fast.

* * *

The pre-dawn is amusing as the Priests busy themselves with devotions. My pre-dawn preparations are quite different, but far more satisfying. I sit where Gaius can see me with my hands busy beneath my chain shroud and let his gaze drink me up. I even control my laughter when he realises breakfast is thoroughly burnt. When the others dig into hard eggs and blackened flat cakes, watching them grimacing adds ever so much joy to my stimulating morning.

“Is it truly wise to provoke them?” Horatia asks, and her words catch me by surprise. The scent of her determination hadn’t shifted to even hint at her intent.

“That would be Minerva’s field to advise you on,” I counter lightly and hear the others hiss in surprise.

Horatia seems surprised but recovers far faster, speaking again even before the others have regained their composure.

“How can one such as you speak her name?”

“You all make so many faulty assumptions, it’s really so amusing,” I reply, and look at each in turn. “Skaði, Vulcan, Mars, Mithras, Mors, Minerva, and Janus. Really what’s so hard in saying a few names?”

“No Devil may speak the name of a God of Light,” snarls Vitus, and stops as Horatia raises a hand.

“A Kyton isn’t technically a Devil. We were there before their rebellion,” I say, as I let my smile broaden. “While we might play by their rules for now, it doesn’t mean that will last forever. Things that bind one, can bind another.”

“How dare you lecture me?”

“You dare think I care what you think?”

My retort is childish, but I take delight when rage purples his complexion. “Only I can keep the rift open, remember, so try not to be a complete arse. Or your Sun God might not return to that sky one day.”

“How is this not impeding things?” asks Horatia, disbelief clear in her gaze.

“Am I holding him back from progress? I’m simply speaking. The choices he makes in reacting to them aren’t mine to make,” I say, as I turn to glare at each of them. “You all disgust me, sanctimonious hypocrites. Gaius was blackmailed by his family’s fate into summoning me. You’re all on about how you’re great High Priests, but any of you could have summoned me. Pathetic losers are what I see, letting someone else pay a price that they won’t. Your evil choice was in letting him summon me, while he simply made a choice to give into Flavius’ blackmail. Which one of you is related to Flavius Aetius?”

By the time I’m done, Vitus looks set to explode, and I wonder if he’ll be able to go supernova.

[Seed Doubts (2->3)]

The glance I see Titus direct at Vitus is the slightest flicker of the eyes, but it says so much.

“So sanctimonious Vitus, who’s the evil one between us? I’ve never used someone’s family against them, just their own choices. What other evil choices have you made? Such a mighty servant of a Deity of Light you are. Did your relative make you do it? Or did you beg him?”

“Devil, how dare you speak to me of evil? What Power do you serve?” Vitus’ demand is a shrill scream that I’m sure is ringing far and wide.

“Order,” I say, and raise the mesh net I made to hold my cube. It’s so wonderful to watch his face turn the colour of bleached bone. “I picked the Hunter Class when I got Summoned, and my choice is to serve the concept of Order. It was so amusing when your Pact deemed me worthy, I didn’t even know you were using one till I tasted the power of it settle on me. Gaius, be a splendid fellow and pass me the pattern you brought with you. The useful one for telling when someone lies,” I say as I unleash my best predatory smile on Vitus. “Want to play truth or dare Vitus?”

“Enough!” Titus orders, even as Vitus points a hand towards me and the first celestial word spills forth. Not giving him a chance to stop Titus crashes him to the ground. The High Priest of Mars shows why he follows the God of War when he pins him in place nearly instantly. I can’t help but lick my lips as I watch Vitus writhe under the older Priest’s power.

“A day and its already turning us on each other,” Inger growls and steps towards me, a glowing sword instantly in hand, only to stop as my chains rise. Her gaze widening as she takes in the dozens of blades pointing her way, rather than only four I’d used for the bear.

“Careful, don’t go running into sharp things,” I caution. “It could hurt.”

“We need her for the project,” Gaius declares, motioning Inger to move back.

“Why did you want to play this truth game?” Horatia asks, nodding towards Gaius’ pack.

“I wanted to see if Vitus knew what his relative was up to.”

At my statement, Vitus snarls and struggles against Titus’ grip, so I crouch and give him a smile. The taste of him has become so wonderfully rank and sour, his hate is delicious.

“The way he’s acting, I’m pretty sure the answer is yes. I don’t see how I’m turning you on each other. I’ve neither threatened nor black-mailed, only revealed some truths. Do you not like the truth about the evil you’re complicit with?”

My smile broadening, I step towards Inger with her pretty sword and purr more questions purely to her.

“Will you have to talk to Hela about your misconduct, Inger? Are you really serving Skaði properly or did you allow her involvement to be sullied?”

[Seed Doubts (3->7)]

Oh, was it something I said?

“We should go back to the Rome. This project began on behalf of Mithras’ Church, and its representative has shown his true colours,” Horatia says, looking between the others, she turns to Gaius. “What did they hold over you?”

“My family’s fate—either I conducted the summoning, or their properties were going to be seized and my family sold,” states Gaius. “Their fortune was secure, but lately it had all come apart. They weren’t even aware the Aetius family had brought up so much of their debt.”

“The project has been in discussion for the last five years,” Titus offered, his grip on Vitus unyielding.

“I earned my Master rank four years ago,” Gaius says, and I ignore the lost look in his eyes as he yanks the familiar plate from his pack.

“They played you and your family. Turning back is your decision. If I’ve done my part, his Soul is still mine. What would your Pact say, when you give up on this and give up on him for no gain?” I ask, and the others freeze.

“Why did you warn us?” Titus asks, planting his knee hard into Vitus’ back to keep him in place. “You were talking about the worship of concepts last night. Why did you warn us, Kyton?”

“My name is Sidero. You can all start by actually using it,” I say, and give them a friendly smile. Walking over to Gaius, I gesture for the plate and happily, he readily hands it over.

Looking between the others, I let a spike slice my finger and activate the plate.

“My name is Sidero, see I told the truth, so nothing. It’s sunny today.”

When the power buzzes across my skin, I moan in delight, the discomfort of the others amusing me.

“I’m a Hunter, and I believe in Order. See, nothing when I tell the truth, no pain for a Mortal, no pleasure for me. Inger is a frog.”

The pleasure hits harder and I practically yelp when my clit pulses.

“Oh, I could play with this all week. I love you all.”

[Resistance: Mana [L] (1->2)]

My scream of pleasure causes a wolf nearby to howl in distress.

“Oh, Gaius I love this so much,” I pant as the orgasm calms.

“Can we just get moving now?” Inger growls and stalks towards her skis.

“Spoil sport,” I grumble, and the plate agrees.

When Titus lets Vitus rise, he pushes him towards his skis, and the plate disappears into my Inventory.