South-East of Stoneheart
Aggie stepped from the Portal and looked over the causeway’s tightly fitted stones, taking in the Dwarven runes that showed the distance to Stoneheart. Yngvarr’s relocation had surprised her, but at least his cousin was cute, helpful and happy to flirt. She looked back through the Portal and blew Himelchon a kiss that drew a slow smile. Pulling her hood up against the spring breeze crossing the foothills, she moved forward. The Dwarven road cut a straight line along the slope beyond the river; trees and undergrowth kept back ten metres or more beyond the drainage ditches. Woodland sounds echoed from behind and ahead, mingling in with the sound of hard marching boots striking stone.
Patrols of troops allowed her the unfamiliar luxury of relaxing somewhat on the road. Thoughts of running fingers along Himelchon’s crimson hair and muscular back entertained her as she covered the remaining kilometres. Each Dwarven patrol had regarded her presence with surprise, but the patrol leaders had just nodded politely. The rest had weighed her with their gazes but had said nothing.
At the ridgeline, the road led straight onwards along a bridge that ended at a blue-stone cliff-face on the far side of a gorge with the mountain rising high above. Cut into the cliff was a twelve-metre square gate, currently only ajar enough for travellers afoot and merchant mule trains. Mana Sense set Aggie’s skin crawling at the energies in the bridge and rows of statues that stood along the ridgeline. Putting a Tongues Spell in place, Aggie moved unhesitatingly towards the dozen gate guards.
The few travellers ahead of her in the queue were admitted quickly and without fuss. Guards at the bridge’s end looked her over unconcerned as the sergeant asked the same questions as everyone ahead of her. The guards’ attention continued to move over the bridge, their hands never leaving their weapons’ hafts, shields ready to shift into position in a single motion.
“Name?”
“Aggie, High Priestess of Lady Amdirlain, a citizen of Eyrarháls.”
“Reason for visiting Stoneheart?”
Aggie watched their assistant’s quick notes, their sharp straight quill strokes recording her words. “To meet with someone from Clan Gildenshield.”
The guard’s gaze didn’t leave her as the questions continued. “Expected duration of stay?”
“Three, perhaps four days, though I might venture through to Duskstone,” Aggie replied after a few moments’ thought.
“Regulations require all non-Dwarven Priests meet with a Priest of Moradin’s Hall before circulating within Stoneheart,” declared the guard.
Aggie’s smile didn’t waver as she considered their stern tone. “Do you have someone who can guide me? I wouldn’t want to take a route accidentally that some would consider circulating.”
“A sensible request, Priestess Aggie,” the guard stated before whistling loudly. “Stoneheart goes many layers underground, and the way to Moradin’s Hall can confuse even a Dwarf who isn’t local. Do you have blessings currently in place?”
“No, but various protection spells and a translation spell—I only know a few Dwarven words,” admitted Aggie openly.
“Those aren’t an issue. There is no offensive casting in Stoneheart unless in a training location or in self-defence; otherwise, it can involve larger fines and damage fees than tavern brawling,” warned the guard.
“Placing importance on fines and fees. Isn’t that a Gnomish thing?” Aggie enquired, surprised the Dwarf wasn’t placing more importance on their code.
The guard’s eyebrows climbed high as they regarded Aggie quietly before answering. “Interesting that you’re aware of them, Priestess. None of the stonekin have visited even Stoneheart in over a century.”
“I like old tales from different lands,” said Aggie, smiling at the break in the guard’s gruffness.
“You can go through,” the guard said, gesturing towards a younger-looking Dwarf standing beyond the gate’s threshold. “They’ll be able to see you to Moradin’s Hall.”
“Thank you, I appreciate the guidance.”
Aggie moved towards the open gate and greeted the Dwarf they’d indicated. “I’m Aggie. Might I know your name?”
The younger Dwarf wasn’t wearing armour, the neatly braided beard and hair not providing any sign of their gender. There was a naivete about them that was missing from the guards—whose attention remained fixed on those crossing the bridge behind her.
“Lernia, daughter of Niapal, of the line of Palazn,” Lernia answered quickly and looked at Aggie curiously. “What happened to your beard?”
“Human females rarely grow beards,” Aggie answered quietly, noting how much attention was suddenly on the conversation.
“You poor lasses. I’m sure a healer could help. Or a weaver to make a prosthetic beard—you’ve got plenty of hair on your head they could use. How will you find a proper husband deformed like that?” asked Lernia.
Aggie coughed into her hand as she fought to hold on to her composure. “Would you be able to guide me to Moradin’s Hall?”
“There’s an idea; they might know the best crafter for it or at least help with that cough,” Lernia replied. Turning on her heel, she headed inside the complex, her stride letting Aggie keep pace easily. Once they had gotten past the initial guard post area, Lernia pointed out the key passages off the concourse and the directions to find various areas of import in outer Stoneheart. The differing motifs in each making it easier to distinguish between them despite the regularity of the Dwarven architecture.
However, when they eventually turned off, the route they took was marked with Dwarven runes that meant nothing to Aggie. They’d been walking for hours when the passage abruptly ended. Lernia only halted a few metres before the end and looked up, the stone echoing oddly beneath her boots. Aggie was about to ask what was happening when Lernia spoke first. “Hey stupid, are you asleep up there? Get us moving down, got a visitor for the Temple level.”
At Lernia’s call, Aggie looked up and saw the ceiling wasn’t solid any longer. Instead, a platform sat above them, attached to the wall by metal bars. Stepping to one side let her look through the gap between the platform and wall to see a shaft broader than the room that stretched upwards. At regular intervals along its course, she could see lights set against stonework casting odd shadows along the walls. Caught up in her examination, she jumped when a reply from above came to Lernia’s words. “There might be others coming behind you.”
“There isn’t; if you can hear any boots, it’s the hollow ones rattling between your ears,” retorted Lernia.
The corridor behind them sealed shut with a click, and Aggie started at the noise. Turning towards it, the floor beneath her shifted downwards, and her trained balance kept her from stumbling. “We’re falling slowly?”
Lernia looked up at Aggie as if she’d gone daft. “No, we’re not falling. The Golem is taking us down.”
“You were talking to a Golem? Why were you so rude?” asked Aggie.
“He’s a Golem?!” exclaimed Lernia. “That’s a good one! I’ll have to call him that. Nah, I wasn’t talking to the Golem. I don’t have a talent for Mana. My cousin’s up there; he’s an apprentice Wizard, taking his turn at room duty. Likely, his nose was in a grimoire and he didn’t even hear us. Look beside the glowstones in the shaft. You’ll see deep grooves like a stone ladder.”
Aggie looked up as directed; the next light that appeared let her make out a regular depression that she’d taken as shadows cast by the lights above. “Why is there a ladder?”
“There isn’t just one, and it’s not a ladder. There are eight tracks around the shaft,” Lernia corrected and moved around the room’s edge and pointed upwards at regular intervals. Aggie moved with her and saw matching formations. “This entire room is the Golem. It’s got gears and hands attached to the sides to let it move along the tracks. The gears do most of the work; the hands are a safety precaution. It shouldn’t take us too long to reach the level we need.”
True to her word, the descent wasn’t long—only twenty minutes uninterrupted—and eventually, the end of the ‘room’ opened again. The motif along the wall that greeted them contained the symbols of the Dwarven Pantheon that Aggie recognised from her reading. The hammer and anvil of Moradin, God of Creators and Crafts. Triple interlocking rings of Berronar, the Revered Mother, Goddess of Hearth, Home and Protection. A mountain with stone carved to show a gemstone in its centre represented Dumathoin, God of Secrets under the Mountain: gems, exploration, mining, and the dead.
Their three primary Powers had pride of place amid the motif, but other symbols were present. Sharindlar, with her burning needle, Goddess of Love, Fertility, and Healing. Often the crossed axes of Clangeddin, God of War, and Vergadain’s coin showed beside each other. Though Aggie had read nothing that showed why their Lord of Battle and their God of Luck and Wealth often ended up depicted together.
The open book of Dugmaren, God of Discovery and Invention, had Aggie consider the recently rebuilt library in the Daughters’ compound. Twice the size of one of the trainee barracks, they’d have to move it outside the compound if it needed to grow again, and they didn’t add a fifth floor. There were more symbols, but she wasn’t sure enough to risk incorrectly matching their name and position so close to their temples.
They didn’t immediately arrive at a place of worship. Instead, their path took them through twists and turns of what seemed an endless series of plain doors. It was only passing an open one and seeing the foyer wall inside that she realised they were passing the living quarters of temple attendants.
“Have we come an indirect route?” asked Aggie.
“This is the most direct route available from the southern river gate,” explained Lernia. “The major route leads from the great forges and the deep seam line. Reaching a connection to that corridor alone would have tripled the distance.”
Lernia pushed open a stone door with the lightest of touches, and the roof lifted well out of reach as it joined a larger chamber. The pillars supporting its ceiling looked finely carved and more decorative than practical, and they obstructed the view enough that she couldn’t see the chamber’s full extent. They’d come out in an alcove along its edge, and the chamber looked easily thirty or more metres across.
Two large archways near where they stood led into the Temples of Sharindlar and Dugmaren, respectively. Though even those she had no time to admire properly, with Lernia motioning her away. “Moradin’s Hall is that way. I’ll see you to it, and you can decide if you need me to wait or if you’ll arrange another guide from here.”
“I’ll need a guide, but are you on work shift much longer?” Aggie asked, looking around in amazement at the beautifully detailed stonework along the chamber’s walls and pillars.
“I’ve most of a day left. If the Priests are friendly to you, they’ll ensure you get anywhere you need to be. Then again, if they’re not happy with you, they’d likely see that happens double-quick,” laughed Lernia.
Moradin’s Hall was only a few entrances along the chamber.Though it was quiet outside, she could feel the Mana as they approached. Seeing busy forges within, it did not surprise her when a wall of sound hit as she crossed the Hall’s threshold.
“Palazn’s youngest grandchild. Lernia isn’t it?” asked a Dwarf, stepping away from racking tools at the closest forge. “You here just to escort this traveller?”
“Yes, Forge Master Naplon,” Lernia replied. “This is Priestess Aggie; she’s a visiting High Priestess of Lady Amdirlain.”
“Lass, what happened to your beard?” asked Naplon, fixing Aggie with a concerned look.
“Human females don’t grow beards,” declared Lernia as if she’d known all along.
“They don’t!?,” exclaimed Naplon. “My condolences, young human. I’m sure you’ll manage through life somehow. You’re in service to Lady Amdirlain. Interesting you’ve arrived now. The High Crafters are in discussions with leaders from other Temples; you’ll likely want to join them.”
“I just came to meet a Priest of Moradin as per regulations, Forge Master Naplon,” Aggie demurred.
“You’re not here to meet with the High Priests? That is a surprise since they’re in the middle of discussions about your Goddess,” Naplon replied. “Something about a message from Duskstone.”
Aggie blinked for a moment as she tried to adjust to the situation. Unfortunately, her mouth got in first. “What did she do this time?! Nevermind, it seems I should meet with them. My thanks, Lernia. I’ll likely be awhile; best not to wait.”
Naplon’s gaze widened for a moment, and they burst out laughing. “Your Goddess the kind to keep you on your toes is she? There’s no problem. She’s just grabbed some attention. Follow me through. They’re in the gathering room. Now, the important question, lass. Mead, ale, or lager?”
“I’ve grown used to mead,” admitted Aggie. “I was more a wine drinker previously.”
“Glad to hear your tastes have improved so much,” Naplon declared, a broad hand reaching up to pat her on the shoulder.
* * *
Ebusuku’s PoV - The Maze
Three wolf ambushes, and three keys later, the corridor’s ceiling actually slopes downwards nearly to where I’ll need to bend to avoid smacking my skull. The first glimpse of Sage’s chamber was enough to convince me his name didn’t come from wisdom or knowledge, but rather its contents.
Pip’s space had a stone floor around the edges, with the centre having soil for the trees and the fountain stonework. Sage’s chamber was quite different with its much lower ceiling and wall-to-wall soil overgrown with herbs. Normal mundane sage I recognised as the most common among them. The cooling aroma of its earthy scent and the leaves’ texture and shape made it very recognisable. Stone trellises that reached to the ceiling interrupted the ground growth. The tamed grape vines clinging to them were thick with fruit. The pattern of their growth made it clear they came from a single plant.
“Sage,” Pip cries out loudly as she motions me towards the pool. Detouring, she pulls leaves from the plants and keeps motioning me towards the pool. “Sit down and rest your knee. I’ll wash the scratches and make a compress. Sage, bring your pot and some firewood.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The young boy that appeared looked barely older than Pip, though his ash-blood hair was far cleaner than hers. His face appeared washed, but his natural skin tone almost matched mine for darkness, a striking contrast to the pale silver of his eyes.
“Why are you tending to a stranger? They just come and either live-”
Pip cut him off in mid-sentence with a sharp motion. “She stopped dog things from mauling me, Sage. Help me tend her scratches. We’ve got a surprise for you, but help Ebusuku first.”
“Pip, just give him a key. Don’t bargain with his freedom when you have yours.”
My words drew her attention and I got a sulky look in return. The herbs by the pool are at least soft to sit on while I wash my hands in its overflow. Healing in this flesh is so feeble, and the water washing across a scratch on my leg strangely starts it bleeding again. The red blood tinged the water pink, a colour that I’d only seen from Farhad’s wounds. Yet I’ve never seen his injuries get so red and angry. Some others that aren’t bleeding are a similar colour—the skin around them odd warm and tight under my fingers as I clean them.
“Sometimes, we need to give Sage a poke to get him moving,” Pip replies. Sitting beside me as she sets out a circle of rocks out beside us on bare ground, a small collection of herbs she’d gathered while the hammer echoed gets set atop a curved rock.
Sage came out carrying a battered-looking pot helm and a bundle of branches tied together with dried tendrils woven into a rope. His eyes flitter over me, not wanting to acknowledge my existence, though he quickly gets a little fire going. Only after he has some water warming in his makeshift pot does he speak again.
“Claiming a new name, Pip? You are a strange one, stranger,” Sage says as he finally glanced at me for more than an instant.
I wasn’t sure the statement warranted a reply, but Pip laid one of three extra keys I’d gotten so far where he could reach it. “She’s been killing beasts that have left these behind when they vanished.”
“It’s a piece of metal, so what! What I want to know is what she’s done to you?” Sage’s demand accompanies a gesture at Pip’s tattooed arm.
“The tattoo is from the key.”
Even as I go to say more, Pip’s words run over mine. “The Titan’s segment did it to me. The flame on my arm is the same shape as the metal.”
Pip held out another as if Sage couldn’t see the first she’d presented him. The boy’s suspicious glare weighed on both but he didn’t touch either. “What does it mean?”
“It showed me I’d get safely through the white flames and have a better life. I accepted the offer, and then the tattoo appeared,” declared Pip.
Sage’s suspicion doesn’t waver in the slightest. He looks like he’s battling the same urges I felt. Power ripples through my veins, and his thoughts surge in mine as temptations rush the moment I think of them. His memories jump randomly about, carrying loneliness with them, as he craves the feel of sunlight only vaguely remembered. “It didn’t happen immediately when you touched it?”
“Nope, but I wanted it so much as soon as I saw it. I was in sunshine, there was water, and so many trees.”
I pulled my touch from his thought as he pushes the key back to Pip with the edge of a rock. “You should give the first to Hook and Pit—in case you can’t get anymore. They seemed miserable at the last gathering.”
Pip’s brow immediately furrows, her every mood so easy to read even before her frustration makes her voice sharp. “Sage, you’ve been here the longest.”
“I doubt I’ll ever get out. If you think it will work, see that those two leave with you,” Sage’s reply was firm as his gaze fixed on me. “You already have wound sickness, you’ll likely lose strength fast and get them killed. If you believe this mark will work, get them out before you die.”
“What about you Sage? Leaving you isn’t fair!”
At Pip’s cry, Sage’s mouth tightens, and he looks away before he replies. “Life isn’t fair, but if three make it out, we might one cycle.”
The churning of his thoughts is as bad as spear strikes I’ve suffered. He wondered if other strangers have gained them and not shared, the thought twisting inside him. I speak up to distract him, though honestly, the pain of his thoughts inflames my craving to take a key. “Wound sickness?”
“The skin around some scratches is red and swollen. They’re warm, yes? Your wounds will get painful, then you’ll get hot, start seeing things and then weaken. Before then, something will probably kill you and anyone with you. They’ll show up in their holes. As for you, we won’t even find your remains. We never find the remains of the strangers; they vanish when they die. We’ve seen them die in front of us.”
Pip’s wince makes it clear it’s not an unfamiliar experience to her. “The Ogre’s club crushed Nathaniel’s chest and broke my fountain, then his body vanished. I’ve seen others die before, including my friends. Eventually, the hammer stills and they return—the strangers never do.”
“If you want the best chance to survive the next level, you should just leave now, before your wound sickness spreads,” Sage says, with a seriousness that echoes Farhad’s own.
“Let’s try your herbs. Perhaps they’ll help. Do you know anything about the next level? Pip said she knows nothing,” I say and catch guilt flaring in his eyes.
Sage’s glance flits to Pip “I’ve only been there once.”
“You never told us!”
Though her upset squeak makes my lips twitch, I take a deep breath before she sees. Memories of watching Farhad sit cross-legged, simply breathing, dig painfully and the desire to leave twists a blade in my guts. Why is this room’s aroma making my eyes burn suddenly? I’m lying in bed, listening to his breathing, and I breathe in time to the memory. The hammer stilling the conversation between the children gives me space to dwell in my thoughts.
“I told you not to venture down to it. It was a long time ago, I was alone in the maze. I barely took two steps beyond the base of the stairs. I died and woke up in my cave.”
Pip’s sulky expression is amusing, but even I find his story too short. “How do you know you died then? Mortals don’t normally wake up from death.”
“I doubt we’re Mortal. Many strangers have come here; sometimes the hammer rings only a little while, and other times it goes on until we are so tired that we fall asleep despite the noise. When strangers have been present, the monsters have killed some of us. Then when the hammer stopped, we were back.”
I feel a tightness within my skull and breathe in time to the calmness of Farhad’s memory. “That still doesn’t tell me how you know you died.”
“A metal blade sprang from nowhere when a stone shifted beneath my foot. It took my arm from my body, and I fell asleep watching blood pool around it. I’ve seen such wounds kill strangers. I died, then I woke up again back here, where I’ve woken for however long it’s been.”
Sage’s reluctant explanation gives me far more to work on, though I’ve no tools to deal with traps. “I’m not dead yet, no matter how certain you believe it. Do you have any other metal items besides this helm?”
“A few things, bits and pieces that strangers left behind, things they’ve set aside don’t vanish with their bodies.”
“Since you believe I have little time, can you show me while the water heats?” I ask.
Sage looks wary, and I can hear his churning thoughts, but his voiced reply is far politer. “If you have them on you when you die, they’ll vanish.”
“Perhaps you can carry anything I believe useful then?” I ask. “Until you are free as well.”
“I’ll guide you to all the others for however long you live. We get Pip out first.”
“Then I’ll certainly need a guide, but you carry the extra keys,” I counter and feel his mind churn in fear at the temptation they represent for him as well.
“I don’t want to carry them; you can,” retorts Sage, the faintest shred of sulkiness in his words.
“Bring something along to put them in, so neither of us has to hold onto them.”
The fear in his thoughts is clearer. He doesn’t believe there will be enough. He wants one for himself, yet he fights the urge to take it, despite being here the longest. Their little leader, not wanting to be alone yet wanting to see them free. He is risking being trapped with none to keep him company again.
“Agreed. Will you tell me how you got here so that I can share it at the next gathering?” asks Sage, his cynical attitude hardly a surprise.
“Amdirlain offered me a chance to break free from my past.”
“Who’s that?” asks Pip, eyes bright with interest.
I’ve never spoken in favour of any Power, and now I am sworn in service and promoting one. “She’s the Lady of the Accursed, Freedom, Hope and New Beginnings.”
New beginnings. May we all get free of this place, in a better state.
“Freedom!” The single word from Pip is bright with the glowing excitement she’s been radiating since she accepted the key.
“Hope?” The word from Sage isn’t so much a question but a doubt of its existence. “I’d forgotten what that felt like.”
“If we’re going to the stairs, we should collect Whisper on the way. She’s closest to them.”
The hammer drowned conversation again, and Sage went back into his hiding spot. The angle allows me to see him search under bundles along the sidewall, hoping whatever gear he’s kept will help with the traps.
“Why is she called Whisper?” I ask.
“She doesn’t talk, she shouts. We’re always telling her to whisper, and she’s still loud.”
* * *
Elemental Plane of Earth
Red chains blur past Amdirlain’s face as she ducks their strikes. The spikes weighing them turn to hooks and grate across stone as their path follows Amdirlain’s, her movement taking her clear of the cold metal gouging their stone foe. A stone limb stabs outwards from another Elemental, only for the blow to crumble against Angelic Aura without Amdirlain needing to attack. Stone rasping against stone, the only reaction to its destruction.
Hooks find purchase in craggy stone, and Sidero rips the damaged Elemental apart. Amdirlain lets Ki Armour vanish as she turns off Angelic Aura. The Elementals, enraged by its provocation, don’t turn away but attack without pause. Their blows continue to bounce or slide off Ki’s strengthened flesh while Sidero’s chains take them apart
[Combat Summary:
Greater Elemental Earth x6 (50%)
Total Experience gained: 45,780
Fallen: +9,156
Scion: +9,156
Sora Master: +9,156
Psion: +9,156
Warrior Monk: +9,156
Angelic Aura [J](35->36)
]
Sidero looked at Amdirlain’s dust-covered form as she pulled the rock remains into her Inventory. “Did their hitting you even tickle?”
“No, it was as if they were merely pushing,” replied Amdirlain, sighing at her hampered efforts to get resistance to Earth.
“So much for hitting that redline,” teased Sidero. “Maybe, we need to find you an Elemental Lord or something. None of the groups we’ve fought have helped.”
[Achievement: This little light of mine!
Condition: First Archon (Lantern) recruited.
Reward: Celestial’s services for as long as you’re worthy.
Role: Guide for Petitioners seeking Domain.
Location: Domain, Outlands.
Faith: +1
Note: An Archon (Lantern) has joined your service of their own accord.
Current Use Name: Pip
Memories condensed by agreement between Celestial and Titan.
Faith Gained: +2]
Please let that not be Ebusuku; I said to keep her memories!
“Hey, little miss misery. You look like someone put your cat down,” Sidero said. “Which would be difficult because I’m pretty sure you only have one pussy. Or have you been getting hentai freaky and not told me?”
[Achievement: Hail to the chief!
Condition: First Archon (Trumpet) recruited.
Reward: Celestial’s services for as long as you’re worthy.
Role: Messenger for Domain
Location: Domain, Outlands.
Faith: +1
Note: An Archon (Trumpet) has joined your service of their own accord.
Current Use Name: Whisper
Memories condensed by agreement between Celestial and Titan.
Faith Gained: +7]
“What is going on?” Amdirlain gasped, a sense of the Archons and Angels in her service suddenly present within her mind.
Focused on the newest members, she felt the System make it clear she could mentally send them a message at will no matter what Plane, she or they, were on. “Pip and Whisper, thank you for joining those helping me. Please make yourself at home in the Domain. Relax and meet the Petitioners and the Norse visitors. I’ll come to see you as soon as I can, then we can discuss what you’d like to do.”
Though she didn’t receive any words in response, she felt their pleased surprise and an acknowledgement of her mental message.
“I don’t know. You tell me what’s going on,” said Sidero, looking at Amdirlain with bemusement. “Talking to yourself, Amdirlain? Tsk, Tsk, lost your mind and your pocket change.”
“Two Celestials joined my service, and I’ve no freaking idea how that happened. The notification said something about an agreement between them and the Titan.” Amdirlain huffed in disbelief.
“You should spend more time there, rather than just leaving folks a list of priorities,” suggested Sidero.
“I know, but you and R... Isaac, we’re in this mess together. You’re my sisters by choice. Sometimes I wish I’d figured out a way to get free of it when Eivor declared her Faith in me. It wouldn’t have stopped me from helping anyone, but this whole Power thing. . . I’m lost, Sidero, and I don’t know where to start. My to-do list for us is so mind-blowing already, and I keep finding others that also need help.” vented Amdirlain. “I feel… no, I know I don’t know how to guide the Petitioners properly. I was in incident management, not a management track. Getting people to resolve an incident, making sure it’s properly settled and followed up, that I can do. Leading people—I don’t know a thing about.”
“The best leaders do things by example and take ownership of their issues, Amdirlain. They’re not the issue. You not knowing enough is the issue. But how will you learn if you’re not there? Yes, you have plenty on your to-do list, but if you don’t settle your Domain properly, it’s going to bite you,” replied Sidero. “If you want to keep saying you’re not a leader and avoiding it, you can find someone else to lead for you. However, if things don’t go where you want them when you’re directing, you can try to change course. If someone else is in charge? Then you can only hope they don’t yank the reins and tell you to suck it.”
“I just dragged you away from your other work. I don’t want you running off back into Hell again. We don’t have a way to communicate,” objected Amdirlain.
“With some preparation time, that won’t be a problem,” Sidero said, wiggling a pair of large gemstones at Amdirlain, each the size of her thumb tip. “I’ll link these. You’ll need to come to Hades, but they’ll let us talk.”
“What about the materials for finding the Giants?” Amdirlain enquired, stress edging hard into her voice.
“What about them? You need downtime from all the fighting you’ve been doing. Take a month, take six, a year; fine, Lêdhins will be stronger, big fucking deal. He’s getting a head start, but so what? You’re not responsible for ending him, even if you want to be, nor are you responsible for Derek’s fate. You’re also not responsible for immediately helping those Clans. Strengthening relationships takes many forms. Spend time with your people, help them, and help yourself settle by getting to know them. I’m not saying be there every second, but the majority until you feel better about yourself.”
“How long will linking those take?” Amdirlain enquired, motioning to the gemstones.
“That’s more the issue. Care to drop me off at The Exchange?” asked Sidero.
“Why there?”
Sidero considered her intently, weighing up the words to use. “Because you are not inviting me into your home the way I am now. No way, no how. As for The Exchange, I’ve heard of it and even read its rules. Neutral yet orderly, I’ll certainly find work there that will cover my expenses. Give me a month or two, then find me. I want to make sure they link properly, not rush the job and have it come apart later.”
Amdirlain felt her teeth grinding and paused. “Why the change in plans?”
“I’ve seen enough to know where you’re at—roughly at least—and the way you reacted says you need rest. Ebusuku’s situation is bugging you way more than you’re admitting to yourself, and it’s just adding to everything. You thought something had happened to her, didn’t you?” said Sidero and she started nodding crazily like a bobblehead dashboard ornament. “If you don’t say yes, you’re going to need a safe word.”
“Yes,” admitted Amdirlain with a laugh.
“You’ve taken too many hits. Amdirlain. Give yourself time to heal inside, and bonus, you can learn about those who’ve placed their Souls in your care. Otherwise, who knows? Maybe that architect will erect a big arse monument since you said no to both her bunker and castle ideas,” teased Sidero before growing serious. “On the plus side, I might get some materials for you trading on my skills or at least learn their market value.”
“What, you’re just going to shoo me on my way?”
“Not saying to split up straight away. I have to get some starting resources after all,” said Sidero, motioning onwards.
“Things with Ebusuku might resolve by then,” challenged Amdirlain.
“If it does, we can talk. Though I’d still advise time off, it’s likely contributing to the way you’re flitting around at present. How unsettled are you feeling right now? You’re going to hit a wall unless you breathe. If Ebusuku gets to be a big-wig Celestial, have her pick up a chunk from your list. You delegated to the ex-Lómë; now delegate other things to Ebusuku. You’d warned her you had plenty of things that needed handling. It sounds like Farhad wouldn’t be averse to challenging his skills with her.”
“Twelve more groups?” asked Amdirlain.
“Four hours, then we’ll call it, and you can Uber me over there, oh mighty one,” Sidero replied.
A mass of rock appeared and tumbled down the passage’s slope away from Sidero’s position.
“Are you sure about The Exchange?”
“After Hell, The Exchange will be easy. I’ve read its rules.” Sidero declared. “I’ll be fine.”