“Yeah, Mom, just one second.” Dyani scrambled up and wrapped herself with a towel. The clothes she’d been wearing were stuffed into the trash. She would have to replace those, and the trash can, and possibly a couple floorboards if she could figure out how.
She cracked open the bathroom window, hoping to air out any lingering odors before leaving to see her mother.
“Hi Mom, how was work?”
“It was fine, acorn, but-” Her mother wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” Dyani’s mind danced over a dozen swear words her mom didn’t know she knew, while also searching for a believable lie.
“Oh, I tripped into a puddle. I think it was polluted by sewer water or something.”
“You what?!” Her mother flew over, eschewing footsteps, “Are you alright. You could be sick. First the moss, now this, what is Mountain Perch coming to?”
Alright, that was good. If her mother directed her anger at the city, it was less likely she’d discover the truth.
“We have to report this. A sewage leak could get an entire district sick, or worse.”
That was less good. A city official wouldn’t ignore a false report. They’d face a fine at the very least, and they couldn’t afford that.
“It’s really fine, mom. It was probably just someone dumping something they shouldn’t, not a big deal.”
Her mother’s concerned expression didn’t move from her face.
“You should finish getting cleaned up, we can talk about it when you’re back.”
Dyani agreed. It would give her time to come up with a way to prevent her mother from reporting anything and exposing her lie. She’d thought she was clean, but apparently the smell had been so bad that even with most of it gone, it was obvious to anyone who’s sense of smell hadn’t been burned out.
As she showered, Dyani dreaded her mother seeing their water bill, but it couldn’t be helped. She scrubbed her skin until it was red, oceans of bubbles running down the drain, returning the evidence of her advancement to the place that had allowed it. There wasn’t any hot water left at this point, but if there was one advantage to regularly washing herself in the underground waterfall, it was the ability to endure the cold.
After she was certain she was clean, she scrubbed herself one more time. After all, she’d thought she’d gotten rid of the smell before.
When she left the bathroom again, her mother waved towards Dyani’s bedroom.
“Why don’t you get dressed, it’ll be more comfortable.”
Dyani agreed, but she was growing more nervous. She had the feeling that her mother had more to talk with her about than her smell.
Once she was dressed in clean clothes, Dyani sat on the couch beside her mother and waited. And waited some more. Her mother occasionally opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her face screwed up, and she closed it again. Dyani’s patience shattered.
“I’m fine mom, you don’t have to worry. Even if I do get sick, we can just call Kemo again.”
The mere mention of the wintery woman froze her mother’s expression into discomfort.
“I wouldn’t be too sure. I was surprised she came the first time.”
“Does she…not like you?”
Dyani’s mother laughed.
“She hates me.” The statement was half a released breath, half a laugh, “She had a crush on your father before I met him, not that it’d work. They were opposite elements in more than magic.”
Dyani blinked and revaluated everything she knew about the woman.
“So, she was jealous?”
“I wish.” Nymin laughed again, but this one sounded like breaking glass. “She probably was, at least a little, but the worst of it was that she would’ve been happy with Rotomin marrying someone else, just not someone like me.”
Dyani’s spine stiffened and brows lowered.
“Shatter her,” Dyani swore.
“Language, Acorn,” Nymin chastised her daughter, but Dyani didn’t miss the twitch of a smile, even though it did seem sad.
“I don’t know what you’ve learned about the Jotunn…”
“Not much, they're tall, have ice magic, and live up north.”
“And south. Most people who live at the poles are at least part Jotunn. They’re the only ones that can survive comfortably in the environment, at least at the lower levels.”
“Their culture is a lot like their climate, cold, direct, and unforgiving. Never cross a Jotunn, because they’ll keep their grudge fresh on ice until they can pay you back for it. I’ve always liked them.”
The sudden shift in direction took Dyani aback.
“Liked them, I thought you hated Kemo.” Her mother swatted her, though all that meant was her hand floating through Dyani’s shoulder.
“One woman isn’t an entire race. You should know better than that. And I never said I hated Kemo. I said she hates me. I have a great deal of respect for the woman.”
Dyani snorted, and even Nymin blushed, translucent bluish skin going darker and more opaque.
“Alright, theoretical respect. She’s an accomplished slayer, or at least she was. She’s a healer, a noble profession, and she continued working with your father without issue, even after he rejected her. She even introduced him to some of her sisters when they visited, which was a story, I’ll tell you.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear about dad’s romantic…escapades before he knew you.”
“Oh, this was after we were married.”
“What?” Dyani squawked, head shooting up and eyes bugging out.
“Jotunns are usually direct, and even as a part Jotunn, Kemo was subtle as a punch to the face. In their culture, strength and capability are king, more than any marriage. If a Jotunn finds a better mate, someone who could breed stronger children for their clan, they usually take them. It’s even part of their marriage vows. They say, ‘til the snows take us, or new blood calls.’”
“So you can just divorce and remarry immediately, no hard feelings.”
Nymin shook her head and waved her hands.
“No one can promise that. Jotunn might not be human, but they’re still people, with all the same flaws and foibles. In most of the tribes, divorce involves a duel, either between the old partner and the new one, or the couple against each other, if one wants to divorce, and the other wants to stay married.”
“To the death?” Dyani asked eagerly.
Her mother gave her a suspicious look.
“Not always. It depends on the tribe, the city, and the people involved. And just so you know, there’s plenty of ways to duel a Jotunn besides marrying one.”
“I wouldn’t marry someone just to fight them.” Her mother sighed and rubbed her forehead.
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“You remember your first day of school, right? You challenged a girl to a duel over a plate of candied acorns.”
Dyani carefully didn’t meet her mother’s eyes.
That did sound like a young Dyani. She still loved candied acorns, it was the source of her mother’s nickname for her. And, as a child, her social skills were largely based on stories her father told her.
“You said you wanted a best friend, and the fastest way was to fight to the edge of death.”
“Under the goddess’s eye,” Dyani put a hand over her heart, “That came word for word from dad.”
“I know,” Nymin said, “That’s why I volunteered him to give a speech about being a slayer to your class, and every class above you.”
Dyani smiled as she remembered that. She didn’t remember anything he’d actually said, but she did remember how awestruck and jealous her classmates had been afterward.
That was actually how she’d become friends with Nodin. He wanted to know everything about slayers, and Dyani was always happy to talk about her father’s profession.
“Anyway, Jotunns are direct, and I’ve always enjoyed that more than the two faced culture here, at least when it doesn’t involve my husband’s best friend proposing he have a threesome with her two tall, beautiful sisters.”
If Dyani had a drink, she would’ve spat it out.
“Mom! You got mad at me for swearing.” Dyani considered swearing tame compared to talking about her deceased father having a threesome while married to her mother.
“Yes I did, I’m your mother, that’s my job.” Nymin was outwardly stern, but Dyani could tell she was enjoying this.
“I’m an adult now, I should be able to swear.”
Nymin winced.
“That was actually what I was going to talk to you about, before you distracted me with that horrible smell.”
Dyani had a terrible thought about where this was going.
“You know mom, I already learned all about that in school, and I’m too young for a relationship anyway.”
Nymin laughed.
“Oh, this isn’t about sex.”
Dyani sagged in relief.
“Though, I’m sure I could still teach you a thing or two.”
“Mom!” Dyani’s face went red hot.
“Alright Acorn, but when you do find that special someone, I’m here to ask.”
Dyani would rather fight a hundred Plover Mosses than hear one more word.
“Can you please go back to talking about how bad I smell?”
“Oh, we’re going to talk about that, but it can wait,” Nymin floated up from the couch, “For now, there’s something I should show you.” She walked to her bedroom and through the door. Dyani opened the door to follow.
Her mother’s room was smaller than hers, and had several features that someone unfamiliar with her talent would find unusual. There was a cork board covered with a variety of documents and notes, every bit of information that Nymin might need to reference, accessible without wasting mana on moving anything. The only thing on there that wasn’t a piece of paper was a round, wooden medallion carved with a circle of red runes.
Despite being a bedroom, there was no bed, since Nymin could float just as easily when asleep as awake.
The rest of the room was cluttered with eclectic items from her father’s exploits. Nothing was valuable, otherwise her father would’ve sold it as loot, but many were still interesting and strange.
Dyani’s favorites were a fish made from tarnished bronze, with for a slash along one side where the metal had melted from a burning blade; a dark, wooden mask with claw marks around the eyes; and a broken, coral staff decorated with seashells.
While Dyani admired the familiar treasures, her mother poked her head around and through the piles of items.
“I’m not sure where it is exactly. It’s been so long.”
“What are you looking for?” Dyani asked.
“It’s a wooden box, with metal banding along the edges, about this size.” Nymin’s gestures indicated a box as wide as Dyani, and half her height. “It should be in here somewhere, but I have no idea where it ended up.”
“What’s in the box?” Dyani asked apprehensively.
“You’ll see when we find it.” Dyani huffed in displeasure, but got to work moving items from one side of the room to the other. Broken weapons, bits of monsters that wouldn’t decay, and things she didn’t even recognize moved through her hands, many prompting jokes or stories from her mother.
She found herself smiling, forgetting the oncoming surprise in the waves of warm melancholy until she lifted a massive yellowed femur to reveal the corner of a pale white box with black metal bands.
“Mom, is this it?”
Her mother nodded silently, hands gripping each other tightly. That brought back all of Dyani’s earlier anxiety and more.
“Please, please, just tell me what it is. It can’t be worse than I’m imagining.”
Nymin shook her head, plastering on an unconvincing smile.
“It isn’t anything bad,” she assured Dyani, “I’m sorry, this was supposed to be a happy occasion and I’m messing everything up.”
“You’re not messing anything up…except maybe from not telling me what’s inside…,” Dyani hinted, but her mother was as unyielding as stone.
“It’s right in front of you. Put in a little more work and you can see for yourself.”
So she did, moving items quickly, without examining and asking about each one. Finally, the box was unobstructed, and she managed to drag it closer to the center of the room. Her mother winced at the scratches in the floor, but said nothing. Dyani looked around the box, but didn’t find any latches or hinges. Its only adornment was a circle of red runes in the center of the top side.
“So how do I open it? If this was a prank, I’m taking all the kitchen towels back to that puddle. You’ll never get the stink out.”
Nymin ignored the threat.
“It’s enchanted so that only you can open it. All it needs is a drop of your blood.”
Dyani gave her mother a skeptical look, taking a large step back from the box.
“Mom, why do we own a vampire box?”
“Don’t be flippant, Dyani, it’s just enchanted.”
Dyani looked over, startled at her level-headed mother’s irritation.
Nymin was staring at that box as if it simultaneously held the secrets of the universe and the most terrifying monster on the planet, hands clenched together as tightly as at the links of a chain.
“Mom, are you alright? You’re scaring me.”
Nymin broke her gaze from the box, but all the tension and avarice remained.
“I’m sorry honey, it’s just…this is…this is a Death Chest, your father’s Death Chest.”
The world started spinning, the ground tilting under Dyani’s feet. She stumbled to lean against the wall.
“You told me Dad was cremated. His ashes were buried under the Mountain Oak, like all Slayers.”
Nymin hurriedly nodded, rushing up to brush semi-tangible fingers through her daughter’s hair.
“Yes, he was, I’m sorry. It’s not a coffin, or anything like that. The Slayer’s Guild sends anything a fallen slayer had on them, or the guild was holding for them to their next of kin in one of these boxes, along with records of their service. Since the guild hall is safer than most banks, many slayers use their vaults to store anything they want to leave behind.”
Confirmation that Dyani wasn’t about to see her father’s remains helped settle the spinning world. As soon as she’d heard the words ‘Death Chest’, her mind had gone to some dark and unpleasant places to explain how her father’s remains could fit in such a small box. She’d known he was killed, but she didn’t want to see the remains of anything violent enough to leave so little of his body behind.
“Why haven’t you opened it?” Dyani’s voice was as small and dull as a pebble, but her mother was still right in front of her, spending a small amount of mana to stroke her hair.
“The boxes are keyed to the blood of the Slayer, along with anyone they designate while they’re alive.” Nymin gestured to her translucent, blue body. “I haven’t had blood since I was 16.”
Dyani nodded in understanding, then stopped and really considered the excuse.
“Drakeshit.”
“Dyani, language!” Nymin floated back from Dyani to give her a disapproving look.
“You’re telling me in all the years since dad died, you didn’t consider just messaging the Slayer’s Guild and explaining the situation.” The sadness and anxiety Dyani had been carrying was gradually shifting to anger.
“The guild is very traditional, I’m sure they-” Dyani didn’t wait for her to finish.
“And even if you didn’t want to do that or they somehow justified saying no to a grieving widow, you said my blood would open this.”
“You were so young, I couldn’t do that to you.”
“I would have begged to give blood, any of it, all of it, to see what dad left us. A drop of blood is a cheap price.” Dyani didn’t realize she was marching forward until her mother’s retreat caused her feet to phase though the Death Chest.
“You didn’t even need to open it. You could’ve just phased your head in. You could do that right now.” Her mother’s face was wracked with fear and guilt. She floated down until she sat on the floor, eyes back on the box.
She looked so tired and defeated, knees hugged to her chest. Dyani’s anger refused to leave, but she had enough presence of mind to hold herself back from shouting again.
“Why didn’t you just open it, mom?” Dyani sat down across from her, with the chest between them. She ran a hand over the band on the edge, letting the cool metal calm her raging emotions.
“They never showed us his body,” Nymin finally said. Dyani remembered that. As a child, that had been a relief. She’d never seen a corpse before, and the idea of her father’s body lying cold and lifeless was enough to wake her up screaming from nightmares.
“His team said we shouldn’t see him like that. They wouldn’t tell me exactly how he died, only that he wasn’t in a state to be seen at the end.”
Imagining her father’s body like that transmuted her fiery anger into cold, sharp ice.
“Rotomin was the team’s main fire user, but one of them must’ve had some kind of fire magic, because they burned him where he fell and took the ashes back to the city. Then they sent for me. I went for you first, but you were in some combat training class, and you didn’t want to come until I told you what happened. I should’ve let you stay, let you have one more day where your father was still alive.”
They both sat in silence, each living through their own memories.