Eli POV
A cloud of mist escaped my lips, mixing with the chill winter air trapped in these stone walls and catching the sun-like rays from the mana lamp above. The wooden chair objected to me pulling myself slightly up, though it was my conversation partner who was the most irritated.
“What was so important you couldn’t discuss it over letter?” Ashe Kraton, governor of Crasden, head of the esteemed house of Rodring’s healer, and very pissed woman stated across the table from me. Red hair meshed with the golden robe wrapped around her but the mana lamp above helped contrast those blue lips with its glow. The gold motif extended to the two lion guards by the main exit door a stone toss behind her.
The open room that served as my dining spot and kitchen wasn’t too welcoming to late visits with its rock floor and constant sloshing of running river just outside. Even being in the presence of a scion, the woman with almost doll-like porcelain skin wasn’t wasting precious time with pleasantries.
“This is a matter between mages,” I stated with a lean back, crossing my arms covered by a white shirt and planting my leather shoes on the uncaring stone.
Her right hand sporting shiny pink fingernails went up, waving the two guards in lion helmets near my main door to go away. They went, after a moment’s hesitation. That immaculately manicured hand went back down to the wooden table before she conjured a sound-deadening spell. Her disdain for using spirit connections outside of dire necessity had become common knowledge to everyone and bucking her preference was a fight I wasn’t willing to wage. Not that I found the practice any more appealing.
“The Mountain Top and Seed associations screwed us. Your letter after the royal visit was the first I’d heard of the plan to move out the single men.”
Her hands clenched into fists on the oak as those jade pools went wide. Ashe didn’t say anything for a long moment, content to sit in silence even if the puffs of air leaving her lungs grew larger with heavy breathing.
“That’s why they haven’t been too keen on staying.”
It appears this was going to be an instructive night for both of us.
“Their guilds aren’t too pleased with recent events,” Ashe explained with an ever so slight lean back into her chair. “Did the great queen Nestel inform you of her intention to whip the associations back into form?”
“Something to that effect,” I answered with a smile at the rather fond memory.
“If it had been another member of the nobility, the association heads might be merely offended at the attempt but Rodring’s widow has real bite and they want a full accounting of what happened before going into battle with the lion.”
So, Percy wasn’t just being a petty fool. Busting the knees of the new administration would help affirm his association's importance when Ashe’s plans fall through and the Seed guild, with its Mountain Top partner, has to help clean up the mess. He would take a lot of heat, be thoroughly reprimanded in the harshest terms, and probably find himself with a nice little promotion after a year or two in the typical way of business. Not that childish grievance couldn’t fit in with the plan.
“I must say, you have risen to the occasion. Going by what I've seen, it’s impressive what’s been getting done.” Ashe put in with a smile to help smooth the honeyed words that contrasted with a week's worth of written word between us.
My lower back and knees screamed in protest, but I wasn’t going to refuse the compliment as she continued.
“It makes me wonder how far along things would be had time been made for your request to meet earlier. If I had any earth magic to lend I would, alas mending bones doesn’t confer that ability.”
I waved my hand in dismissal of the coy seduction. The woman certainly had presented rough on our first introduction but having the prize of Crasden in hand seemed to have brought her temperature down a few degrees. If for no other reason than I wasn’t the one currently threatening her position.
“An extra week, month, or century, I think we would have gotten the same amount of support from them. Though being informed earlier would have been a good boon.”
“Going to bed early is a gift all its own,” Ashe said with a small smile as she got up. There was an edge of anger in how quickly she rose, suppressed by the fact that I wasn’t the object responsible for it. “I will make the expectations for aid clear once I get them for a meeting. They’ve got a few days left here and I’ll work them for all I can until then.”
A light bow was all she received in return. The healing caster was seemingly satisfied with that, turning around towards the exit door with only billowing golden robes to play against the ambling river. I did the same, only turning right towards the door leading into the main hallway. At the clank of the door’s close, I went ahead into the dark hallway and took another right into a too-cold bedroom. Pressing the wooden pad on the side of the doorway, the world suddenly died in a black void. Memory saw me through the abyss, bringing me to the bed in short order for what was hopefully to be a deep sleep.
The night passed too soon.
A stiff chill bit my fingers, not that the grey stone of the ceiling cared about the problems of the freshly awoken. Laying on the bed, with my midsection kept warm beneath brown blankets, I decided with what little thought could be wrung out of the brain still booting up that today was not a good day. Not even the fact that it hadn’t started could dissuade me of that.
It wasn’t my hands or face being cold, the aches starting to remind me of their existence, nor was it the incessant pecking by Ashe before yesterday’s meeting about how all the spine-crunching labor was seemingly behind. Gula and her mother Durka had left off to some unknown destination more than two weeks ago. Cell had flown over to the area where their ship was supposed to be and found nothing, not them or anything to suggest their destruction. A quick jaunt southward produced nothing else before he came back. I did my best not to worry about it since the ship's shielding was no doubt well-powered and the missile systems would be-
….
Which universe was this?
….
Right, the one with magic.
Cell had taken a quickly slapped-together wooden aircraft designed to float on the same principle of a hot air balloon and shot off towards Baker’s Port along with any places they might have stopped at. Which was good for him, honestly. He was the closest thing to a magic god this world could conceive of but he handled boredom like a toddler.
I’d be out there as well if not for the fact that the flying airship accompanying Gula’s water-bound dingy wasn’t checking in for the nightly radio session. There were no magic airships this far north save the royal one long gone along with the only other scion air mage, besides myself. That left them being forced to leave in a hurry because say…. The Orcs just found out they were about to be crushed and needed to use the only ship out. Wherever they went, it was together and I would just have to wait for them to return. Frayed nerves and all.
I rubbed my left hand against my forehead. Salamede would be safe and the family back in the other dimension were almost certainly still fine. None of that could be said about my Orc wife even with her having two ships. It had occurred to me that Gula was getting a lot of the dangerous missions. Having two wives had its perks but the balancing act of making sure I didn’t slight one over the other was a constant struggle and…. I was tired.
Jesus.
I pushed the blankets down with a huff. The quota of morning whining had been reached and it was time to get back out there. Getting up, I quickly went through the door on the right, pressing the wooden panel beside the doors as I did so. That brought the one in the ceiling into bloom, including those in the hallway. It was all grey stone save the door directly ahead of me. The left turn presented another door at the end of the shaft, which I went through.
The kitchen/meeting room had a dining table to the left, a closed door to the outside on the right, and a small kitchen with a stove directly opposite. What it didn’t have was a steaming tub of water or a meal. Blue specks of mana were sucked in and spent to fuel a spell summoning a thick rope of water, which slithered around my body to wash away grime and dandruff. When the bottom half was clean, the shaft of water was sent through a duct in the ceiling and forced out the top where it would splash the human debris into the river before the magic water disappeared into oblivion. This was repeated again for my top. When it was going over my back, the door leading to the outside was opened.
“A thousand apologies, great mage.” A brunette extolled with as deep a bow her maid outfit and tray capped in a copper dome would allow. Her green eyes were wide and sweat went down her forehead, contrasting with the cool-headed blonde to her right holding a pitcher and cup. “The firewood was lacking and we did all that could be done, with all possible haste and knowing of your immense station-”
“Same story as everywhere else, my lord.” The blonde interrupted, giving her companion a meaningful look with her blue eyes as she went to the table.
The brunette was too scared to be puzzled, rushing forward to place her tray down on the table along with the drink. She quickly took off the tray’s cap to reveal a steaming bowl of brown soup while her companion poured the water into the cup laid beside it.
The blonde, more experienced in my preferences, gave a quick bow before moving towards the dish. She produced a spoon and took a bite of the soup. A brave thing, testing for poisons outside of a lab. But as one of the members of the royal kitchen lent to facilitate my meals, she was well compensated for the danger. With no choking or foaming mouth, she moved back away from the table, pocketing her spoon all the while. The brown-haired companion matched the slight bow her more confident companion gave before both walked away in a steady gait that didn’t match the drips of sweat falling off the brunette’s chin. No matter their emotional state, they left at the same time and the door was closed.
Soup was omnipresent these days as the cooks simply couldn’t keep up with individual courses. I wouldn’t get to eat much else until the situation here stabilized and had resigned myself to a chew-less meal. The men were more resistant to the change with grumbling from the communal dining area's tables assaulting my ears each time I walked by.
During a particularly long slurp, another maid came by with a fresh change consisting of underwear, a grey shirt, and brown pants, accompanied by a thick fur coat mercifully accompanied by a face cover for everything but the eyes. This day was going to be awful, so there was no point in delaying it. Donned in new clothes and feeling a warm belly, I followed the path of the three women. Once out the door, I stood on the stone floor for a moment, taking in the chill wind and the slight creaking of the wooden drawbridge ahead of me. At the end were the guards clad in red leather with the stone box on the left sporting a slanted roof presumably holding more. Out on the stone plain ahead was row after row of wooden slats sucking in mana to form stone bricks on top of them.
All I got was a nod as four men came closer to surround me. With my third layer of clothing around me, I walked to the end of the bridge and took a left. Roaring river had become a fixture of the soundscape, leaving me only just registering the rush of water as I walked alongside it. A wooden bridge lay ahead, a sturdy specimen that allowed for two carriages traveling in both directions. Looking out over the stone plain to the enclosing walls, I saw the huge finger of a tower further ahead by the wall touching the sea. Myths and legends were conceived here at the battle with the Mist pirates and one of them was that the trebuchet resting at this tower's peak fired only seven times.
No tales of glory waited for me as I walked up the bridge’s ramp. The kitchen camp off ahead and to the left was not serving honor to the blank-faced men getting their bowls. There was no grand procession to the trio of towers near the entrance straight ahead nor did the solitary one to their left merit the stuff of tales. Not that it would be around long enough to gather any real history.
The trio of towers would remain in place to act as guard stations in case of a siege from along the Crasden road or from Crasden itself, though the latter was left unsaid. My destination was the gate past the three siblings of stone. Here and there were workers pulling carts, seeing to a task, or getting ready for the work day. As we walked past the kitchen, one activity being taken up involved the sounds of landing fists and shouting. Red-leathered guards moved to break it up with raised batons, so I was content to keep going.
My group was at the edge between the nearest tower and the kitchen when I spotted a group of red splotches approaching from the left of my peripheral vision.
“Apologies, Scion. To sully the morning with such a sight is unbecoming.” The expected voice of Kev announced.
And the three other times you thought I didn't hear them weren’t?
The bitter words were choked down. I turned to get a proper view of the man and sure enough, those brown eyes were wide while fog clouds came out in heaves from between the muddy mustache and beard. Sweat dripped down his thin cheeks and nose.
“Do the men need more time in the mornings? Or perhaps an earlier cut-off in the afternoon?” I asked with a raised grey eyebrow.
“No. Just some grumbling from malcontents. I will personally see to any further incidents.” He stated with a shake of his head that sent brown hair over his metal chest plate.
Civil government here was more a series of relationships and suggestions, so when I ‘accidentally’ left my plans detailing the expansion of my domain out to be seen, along with questions about how to fit all the single men in it when the slums were leveled, there weren’t any hard rules saying he couldn’t suddenly begin taking a more proactive role here. Kev was well-liked by his men and had a lot of authority not bound on paper, the perfect man to force through things that only a select knew the purpose of. Quite the inverse to his superior, Fessel, whose mandate was entirely on the powers and declarations of people who didn’t live here.
“And how’s the harbor going?” I asked him as we walked together towards the main gate.
“It moves apace. Some of the new men were questioning putting wooden slabs layered in with the stone. Questions that were laid to rest when someone gouged out the rock with one of the shields.”
“At least the weapons are still proving useful,” I said with a tired nod to the surrounding walls.
The entire perimeter of the jutting stone protecting this place was being strengthened with slabs of wood hardened to steel. Putting such a skeleton in place after the flesh had been raised involved a lot of specialized magical tools which the array of tents past the right tower were putting to use. Workers swarmed over the sides of the sheer rock and walked down with their heads going beneath the stone floor. Coming further up brought me to a massive ditch three carts wide along the base of the wall to the right of the main gate.
Wind pushed away body odor yet the breeze wasn’t strong enough to smother the curses and screams coming from the men working at the bottom of the stairs taking up the two-floor high wall of the ditch. All around the new floor were men carrying long poles of wood a dozen feet long and nearly two feet thick while those on platforms beside the wall worked horse-sized blocks of wood into place. These magical crafts would turn the stone beneath it to liquid, allowing the placement of the poles through their center. This made the unwieldy shafts easier to place and kept them straight.
Standing on the edge of the dirty staircase leading below, I felt a tortured throb in my chest. The plans for this section involved placing down hardened wood acting as metal bracing in large quantities around the wall with the top getting a layer that would be covered up. It was inelegant, wasteful, and needed. Accounting for possible expansions by the Orcs beyond the walls or additional digging downward meant I had to make them far stronger, especially along the sea where some monster from the depths or storm surge might come calling.
There had been projects in my previous life where people had used such overcompensation and I had made my opinion of such craftsmanship well known. I offered a silent prayer for those souls, asking forgiveness for my hypocrisy. Of course, they didn’t have a few days to come up with it but the memories still stung.
Off towards the right was the mustached overseer looking down over the masses with a detailed copy of the needed measurements splayed out on a table in front of him. Thankfully, most of this work had been placed on his shoulders. I made the new crafts for placing wood shafts, smoothing floors, digging up stone, and such, but besides the occasional inspection, I was left to make sure ‘Harrah’s Thumb’ didn’t topple over in the future. The issue of how to work around the tunneling Orcs without making it obvious I knew they were coming was also resolved with him taking charge.
Not that the nine-some floor tower was a slacker's job.
Finishing one last look around the site, I turned back towards the three towers. Far from being abandoned, their importance had only increased. Having the workers trek all the way here from Crasden every morning was taxing even in the beginning. Going through the gate of the closest one, I was pleased to see the second floor being put in with the open center getting a staircase. A quick inspection revealed some doorways that were an inch or so lower on the left side.
Kev immediately dispatched one of his men to oversee the issue. By the time I had finished inspecting the second floors of the other two, the fault had been revealed to be a rock getting stuck in the bottom-right of the enchanted wooden door frames that carved out the stone in the wall. The sun was on its descent, blasting orange and red across the clouds of a freezing world.
Allowing the workers to finish their construction and mend mistakes, I stopped by the canteen for a quick meal of yet more soup. The fatty stew of hearty vegetables chopped thin and pork belly was prepared in front of me with a tasting from one of the guards at its completion. When they didn’t fall over dead, I was allowed to enjoy the meager lunch with a pulling aside of my brown face covering. A constant chorus of chatter and industry was coming from every direction around the empty table. For all the merits of quiet forest life, the song agreed with me.
Leaving the kitchen and Kev behind, the trip over and past the bridge left nothing but the whistling wind in my ears where rushing water didn’t roar. Coming up to Harrah’s thumb took a bit of work as weeks of almost unceasing labor compounded into my joints and slowed every step but the nine-and-some stories tower was soon looming directly overhead. The long arm of the trebuchet hanging over the side hadn’t moved since the battle save the swaying from wind. Unlike the last time, it was the bottom section that needed tending.
Moving around the side brought me to a pile of poles leaning against the sea wall. They were similar to the ones being driven into the walls but eighteen feet in length. As huge as the tower was, it had a too-generous skeleton of metal-hard wood already in place. Something the base beneath lacked.
Around the stacks of wood piled into a hill against the wall were more workers, waiting to do any personal bidding from the grand plant scion who rescued them all. The fact the men assigned to this job only started working when I did, as opposed to the constant toil in the ditch, was certainly a secondary benefit to being in the presence of their savior. Judging from the excited looks on some of their faces as I walked up, cynical sarcasm may have produced more truth than jest.
“All right,” I announced to the crowd. “We know what to do.”
If the lack of elegance was off-putting or endearing, none made it known now or in the past weeks. They gave me deep nods before moving to the wall. Men swarmed around retrieving another horse-sized craft from the unseen side of the pole stack and getting those same shafts off the ground while I retrieved a measuring stick six feet long from the side of that same mound.
Moving a block of wood the size of a horse and several times heavier was a grueling task. An impossible one if not for the handles I had put on the sides. Once I had measured out its place near the tower, the men moved back as my spellwork molded a crude side of stairs onto the right side of the massive block. The second the stone was finished being pulled from nothingness, one of the men moved up the stairs and touched the left sky-facing corner before moving back down. Mana was sucked in from the surrounding air, the wellspring of golden flecks from Necrosis having been used up by all the crafts in hours past. A flickering flood of blue dots rushed over his face and mixed with the warm rays of winter’s sun to produce a beautiful tapestry seen only by my eyes. All the magical work was finished for now, allowing me to move further away towards the back-right to merely observe.
The poles' ascent up the stairs was pretty graceful with a dozen men crowding around it like ants. Placing it into the hole in the center suffered a small bump but it quickly fell into the central shaft with no fuss from the liquid stone beneath. Once there was nothing to be seen of it from my low angle, one of the workers walked forward and looked down with a messy mop of brown hair. After a few seconds, he followed the steps of his predecessor, pushing against the white square unseen from my angle.
Their labor finished, a small stampede came down the stone steps and pulled back at my approach. None had to ask what I was doing with my turn around towards the tower-facing side of the wooden block. Cold bit at my fingers yet my brain felt none of it as all mental resources were focused on the moment.
Finding the white square on the lower corner of the huge wooden block near the ground took no effort, nor was pressing its freezing surface too painful. Another wave of blue specks blew around me as the second set of enchantments roused to life. For a moment, nothing happened until a two-foot wide circle of stone moved from beneath the edge of the huge craft.
Rock flowed like streaming water around the circle steadily moving forward, the free movement lasting for only the blink of an eye before returning to hardness with the circle’s passing. Its approach towards the tower never halted even as it slipped beneath the seamless stone of the floor and jutting tower wall. A second more passed before the craft stopped taking in mana, the signal that its work was finished. I took a long board from one of the attending laborers. The slab was promptly put to the section of stone that the circle had slipped under.
Stone melted to the sides like mud as a small tunnel molded into view. Just wide enough for me to squeeze through with a few items. Weak winter sun made a black void take residence in the hole almost immediately. In my peripheral vision, two of the workers were running leftward to the tower entrance to retrieve the torches that were supposed to already be out.
Not content to wait on them, I moved out of the small incline and towards the right of the tower. It took only a few steps before the long shaft of rectangular stone sticking out of the tower’s side presented itself. I couldn’t remember if I had marked bracing poles with a cylinder or rectangle and was glad I hadn’t immediately made the former without checking. As I walked back to the next addition, a groan of deep, thundering bass washed over me.
Trembling air pressed from behind yet my senses said it was far away. I instantly placed the sound as the stuff of nightmares for any construction foreman. In the blink of an eye that it took me to turn around, the roar got louder as it mixed with the crunching of stone. The wall, as much as could be seen from the obstructing tower, was fine. As I ran forward, the left side being revealed started showing wafts of grey clouds floating away from the impact site.
When I finally made it around Harrah’s Thumb, the disaster finally revealed itself.
Just beyond the trio of towers was a pile of rubble where the five-story wall on the left of the main gate used to be. The main entrance and connecting wall for the road were still intact, but about two hundred feet of my creation had been brought low. Among the wisps of dust, I could see the section that had survived came to rest with the body of its sibling resting against it. I had made it so the entire wall wouldn’t topple over in case of a breach by earth-aligned monsters and had a moment of relief that the extra protection held firm.
I savored the feeling as it was probably the last positive emotion my brain would send me for a long time. A mental list of what could have caused this was quickly run through with my minutes-long run to the artificial river. Wind still ran through my ears and only the sloshing water pierced through the pumping adrenaline coursing through my veins. Contrary to expectations, the guards that caught up with me first came from across the river.
Against the backdrop of frenzied workers running around like chickens came the red leather of the guards and the steel breastplate of Kev glistening with their run towards my direction and away from the disaster. We met with me getting just past the bridge's peak.
“Kev, I do hope I don’t need to explain which side the disaster happened on,” I called over the running river and the shouts of the work camp.
“Your safety is paramount, great scion.” He half yelled with a bow that sent bits of sweat flying from his brown hair.
“It was a close thing but I did manage to dodge it at the end.” I put in half-jokingly as I walked to the left.
In a move without precedence, the guards followed the direction by shifting to block me. Not a blanket of flesh as they had typically been but an obstruction. I looked between all of them. There was a lot of fear, a typical reaction to just seeing five floors of rock come crashing down. They had probably seen a lot of people ground into paste a few minutes ago, so I didn’t immediately lash out when Kev moved in front of me. His brown eyes were wide with that same dread even as he put out his hands in supplication and more sweat trickled down his mud-colored mustache and beard.
“It’s still a dangerous situation, lord. Please. We can’t afford injury to the one person who’s currently keeping everything working.”
I took a deep breath of chilly air, trying to force the irritation out with the cloud that flew around the brown cloth face cover.
“We can’t afford to lose men. Saving a few dozen workers currently sucking in their last breath will also raise morale out of the trench it’s in.” I stated evenly with a step further to the left.
Kev moved to block me before the rest of his men followed up. Another miracle. However friendly I may have been, this obstinate behavior towards a mage, forget a proper scion, should have been unthinkable for a magic-less peasant. Whatever was going on with them, it had my full attention even as I stood in complete silence.
“There are no casualties, great mage.” Kev put out with only a slight tremor.
I narrowed my eyes at him before tilting my head rightward.
“You did a full headcount in the minutes it took me to jog over here?”
“The men were placing one of those huge crafts down on the left side of the gate. It…. Activated somehow. By the time the men realized that it had been turned on, the wall had already started to crumble. There were no carriages on that side of the gate and the twenty men were working alone.”
Kev bit his lip after using it to deliver an easily disproven lie. At any one time, despite their size and mana use, the crafts only shifted small slices of stone. I had even put in a manipulation field that helped keep the rock above the moving circle in place. Perhaps if several of them were lifted in the air and aimed at a joint…. But certainly not lying on the ground.
“I guess no one needs saving but moving the stone-”
“No, honor wouldn’t allow it.” Kev spat out a decibel just below a scream. “We couldn’t have you picking up our mess. You’ve done so much already. We will use shovels and our backs to amend our stain on your great work.”
So, they don’t want me near…. the….
A black ball of horrid revelation dropped into my stomach.
I turned to the right towards the sea wall. Gratitude for the face cover fought for emotional space as I tried not to shake in anger. It took mental effort to keep a steady breath as the hair on the back of my neck stood up, following the scream trying to work its way out of my throat and into the open air.
The Orcs fucked the wall.
Some stomping from the right announced my retinue of personal guards approaching. Gentle breeze wafted over the bare land bringing with it a waft of salty sea, the scent of death typical of Necrosis frozen out by winter’s grasp or so omnipresent it no longer registered. With a sweating Kev waiting in attendance, I could only stare out over the unfeeling stone and churning water below.
Did I not do enough? Was there not enough light for the man who saw my blueprints for Ashe’s plan or the structure of the wall? Do I have to personally grab the green women by the hand and lead them to the Garden of Eden?
“Some crafts to help fix this will be provided,” I announced to the men on both sides. “As appreciated as the gesture of purely manual labor is, those backs are needed elsewhere. A small stack of boards to help scoop up the wreck and lay the foundations for repair will be provided tomorrow. For now, Harrah’s Thumb needs bracing. Can I count on your men to guard the breach, Kev?”
He did as deep a bow as his steel chest plate would allow, almost reaching a full ninety degrees.
“We'll watch it with no less attention than we would our newborns.” The head guard exclaimed, his voice only straining near the end.
With nothing left to be said, I went back over the bridge.
I barely paid the next few hours any mind, save when I needed to mesh the fibers of the new poles in with the wooden frame of the tower. The men could cover up the true problem for a while but doubts over their capability to fix it gnawed at me. Even down in the dark slit of stone with no light but a torch, the work received only the barest notice as the steel-hard log was fixed into place.
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As I stood over the new hole and filled it in the dim torchlight pushing back the newly fallen night, the men looked on apprehensively. None of them knew what the official story behind the collapse was nor the actual truth of it. They would find out in due time, but that did little to settle the nervous pacing of the guards or keep more than half their gazes on the work. When the last bit of grey stone finally melded over the last pole, I turned to the gathered crowd.
“You know the routine from here, but this is not a routine day. I need to make several crafts to help clean up the disaster site. Head back to the main work camp. Two of the guards will walk you back with torches.”
None objected despite how unruly the magic-less men were being today. It took a few minutes of walking under a starry sky before I was back at my river home. The guards in constant attendance at the shack near the bridge let me through without problem. Mentally I was checked out of everything save the most immediate task.
The world eventually shrank into the workshop opposite my bedroom. When I closed the door behind me, the first thing I did was think of the past. Specifically, the past involving my naked wife prancing about. I indulged in the memory for a second as I turned on the mana lamp on the left wall. Bringing several wooden pieces together and molding them at the work table eventually pushed out Gula’s beloved curves from my mind. The next few hours were spent at the worktable against the far side of the room with only a quick stop for a delivered dinner. The wood was crafted into the form of a plow with a flat bottom.
Idly plying it with the mana stamps of triangles, squares, and circles was unfortunately quite effortless. That left me with all the time needed to ache and worry over the present reality. Obviously, I would want to keep as far away from the disaster site as possible. All it would take was me spotting one green face or foot in a place where I couldn’t deny seeing it for almost the entire female half of the city to die off. As a mage who just discovered Orcs penetrated into his domain, I would probably have to collapse the tunnel they were making to get here. Essentially consigning so many green women to oblivion would make negotiating our true purpose here almost impossible in the future. To say nothing of Gula's anguish. And the deaths.
But this dance of farces and misdirection's required believability to be maintained. A plant scion could only be disinterested in the tumbling of one of his walls, be so engrossed in other work, that such a gaping wound in his defenses was left personally untended for only so long. A few hours were spent crafting seven more of the plows before I moved on to making more stone molding boards and leather gloves. Plying magic into the rough hide of poorly sewn leather lead me to the conclusion that my influence over coming events was minimal.
The only thing to be done was to flood the disaster site with stone molding and summoning crafts to let some fall down to the green women. Not all of the crafts could go to them as a plant scion would notice if an entire cartload of his tools went missing. Hopefully, the men would be brazen enough to give Garren’s bane at least a dozen or so crafts to help them fix the mess they made. Of course, any amount of crafts wouldn’t help if the women overseeing their use didn’t know how to properly apply them. They had already stumbled at the critical juncture once and it wasn’t due to a lack of magic.
Putting aside the finished glove, I lowered my head into chilled palms as the mana lamp behind doused the bare room in a golden glow.
Gula couldn’t fix this with a visit. Even if I tutored her in the aches of architectural design and her talent was so unprecedented that she could fit it all in her skull over a few days, her casting in this play prevented the solution from coming from her. The Orc’s would have to mend their folly without any miracle intervention. Something I would be content to wish them luck on if their gamble didn’t involve all of us.
Continuing my labors for an hour more, it was only until one hand sent a board over the table with a fumbling grasp that I was ready to turn in. This world’s lack of clocks was irritating at most times but turning in ‘when I feel like it’ was a benefit hard to quantify. I put away my work and turned off the light to get to the bedroom, moving through the inky void off memory alone. Retrieving the radio from the false floor beneath the bed was a bit trickier but still accomplished.
“Eli, calling in. Finished.” I announced through the wood box.
Dead static greeted me. As it had every night before. When I got up and put the radio back in its hole, the thump of wood on stone had a particularly solemn air about it.
Sleep proved a failure. It had shut off the brain and left me motionless for hours on end, but that arbiter of determining the start of a new day never rendered its judgment. The worries over the wall were still present, this body had the same aches, and a creeping sense of desperation hung as thickly as ever. I got out of bed with the same sluggishness that I had gotten into it. Boards were retrieved from the workshop and accompanied me to the dining room table for a late morning breakfast.
The maids arrived with the covered dish, pitcher, and a change of clothes. Again, no tub of steaming water came. Putting the stone manipulation board down, I went over the previous day to see if this wasn’t some re-lived dream. It was the blonde who approached with the dish, making the first announcement as she did so.
“The good camp leader tried his best to make the bath this morning but with all the problems from the wall collapsing….”
Even her cool demeanor was a bit frayed at having failed a second time.
“I ask only for what is best for everyone,” I assured the two as I put aside the boards.
They promptly went about the usual tasks and left me with the meal, seemingly grateful that they were escaping with no blood outside of their skin. Biting my tongue above the brown stew, I realized I let a bit of irritation seep into my response to the girls. A terrible thing considering I was the head of this entire operation and made all the worse by the fact that I was losing the patience to care. The meal was quickly gulped down and I left the table to stand in the middle of the room.
Bits of dust and dirt clung to the shirt and pants carelessly thrown to the ground. For a moment, I was considering mixing a fire spell with the summoned water to get a warm bath. The fact that I was seriously tempted to do such a stupid thing made me reevaluate how depleted my mental acuity truly was. Warm seduction was ultimately denied and the magic bath concluded with a snake of chilly water flung through the same upper shaft in the ceiling.
The grey shirt and brown pants were quickly tied on, a cloth face covering having been missed in the delivery. Another chore added to the list. Putting an arm through the coat took a second try as the brain coordinating it was stewing in weeks of growing exhaustion. Going out the door, I knew the day would broker me no mercy despite its clear blue sky.
Across the bridge were guards and not all of them were the red leather-clad ones who’s laying with the Orc’s could barely be called a secret. Two men bearing a metal lion head and golden cloth attached to their arms and metal armor stood around an ornate carriage and a lad donned in red with gold trim was almost statuesque at the end of the drawbridge.
“The governor and head of the house Kraton, Lady Ashe, has requested your presence, great plant scion Tilvor Laperict.” He announced with great clouds escaping lips that couldn’t be more than twelve years old. A few tufts of brown hair stuck out of the sides of his red cap, matching his nervous eyes.
I only nodded with a walk over the bridge. The regular guards who served as my usual retinue were off to the left and merely nodded to me as I got in the wooden box. Inside was an ornate room with windows covered in thick curtains of red that matched the upholstery of the benches on both sides. Right now, there wasn’t a force in the universe that could keep me on my feet for a second longer than needed. Plopping into the left bench, I got raised eyebrows from the lad and the two lion guards but I was a being of unfathomable power to their magic-less existence and no words were said as they moved into the carriage.
A smacking of reigns rang out with a slight pull back from the motion of the carriage. Falling fully asleep wouldn’t be possible on the bench with its meager cushioning and the carriages lacking suspension. I did manage to achieve a reasonable state of comfort where the aches eased yet I remained aware of my surroundings. The sound of surging water came, and sure enough, we dipped up then down before leaving the river's chorus behind.
After a minute every direction filled with the shouts and smacking feet of hundreds of workers. I felt grateful to the thick curtains along the windows for blocking the faint morning sun and any sight of the migraine now taking up the left side of the gate. Treading down the still-protected road took a bit longer until the carriage gradually slowed and then stopped. Far too soon to be at the runt tower.
A blast of cold air flew through the carriage as the guard on the right opened the door.
“Driver! What’s going on?” He shouted.
“I don’t know. It….”
Some unheard voice that sounded further ahead filtered into the cabin in an unintelligible whisper.
“An accident at the squeeze.” The driver announced. “A horse got spooked and ran the cart into the side of the gate. They’re cleaning it up now.”
The guard pulled back in with a gentle close of the door. Resting on the bench I decided that, in the future, the horse would be a sacred animal. Unburdened by labor and allowed to roam free on vast plains.
Minutes of blissful nothing passed in the blink of an eye. When the tug of motion pulled me into the bench, a small sigh escaped my lips. If my companions heard it over the ocean’s pounding on the land, they made no comment. Sea waves gradually fell out of the air to be replaced with the sound of city life with all the shouting, footfalls, and thudding of heavy loads hitting ground.
When we came to another stop, the bench across from me creaked. The guards and messenger boy were getting up. Reaching to the window near my head revealed the jutting side of glass and steel that served as some poor imagining of a skyscraper. I hadn’t even moved and my lower half was already pre-emptively complaining. Still, the great governor was waiting.
Stepping out of the carriage and onto the stone road was an unsteady affair until I was on firm rock. Clear days like this had an uncanny aspect of being freezing yet still showing rays of what was supposed to be warming sunlight. Aside from a soft blow of wind, there was nothing besides the steps of people going up the stone stairs to the left into the building. Missing among them was the trio accompanying me, instead waiting patiently by the carriage for me to make the first move.
I moved towards the steps, ignoring what to a peasant would be an awe-inspiring mountain of steel and glass panels. My companions came behind as I approached the two guards by the glass pane doors. Getting through was easy with my escorts and the sheer volume of people going in and out.
Before opening the doors, I could hear the chorus inside. Their inward swing brought the stomping, chatter, and occasional yell to a peak just above the busiest section of the work site. The wide-open hall ahead and staircase to the left were ignored as I moved to the right towards the wooden double doors. I had surmised that guests interacting with the mechanisms involved with using the elevator was frowned upon, so I waited for my guides to make the first move.
The lad opened the doors and all four of us went inside. Having guards constantly on both sides was the newest change. Ashe had decided that allowing visitors to walk about the center of regional operations with only a small boy to keep an eye on them wasn’t a good idea and made a new rule that two guards would be present during such visits.
Getting in took only a few seconds which ended with the lad working a cylinder of metal serving as a key on the panel. My new guard's armor reflected off the glass walls illuminated in the mana lamp above as metal boots gave dull thuds on the wood floor. That familiar tug downward came in short order sending us skyward.
After a minute or so, we stopped and the doors were opened. Coming out onto a hallway of wood walls, a staricase directly ahead, and stone floor, we ignored the window showing the city below on the left and took a right. It was a bit crowded with messengers going back and forth, as was typical of a place still at war. At the end of the hallway stood large steel double doors. The lion guards attending them allowed our band to pass through.
In the middle of the room was the same gold-edged table of grey stone. Its edges matched the gold laid into the steel around the walls, gleaning in the morning sun still reaching up through the glass walls. The mana lamps along the joints in the walls and ceiling made it clear the light would not die here with the coming of the night. White marble floor made the clacking of shoes around the focal point of the room all the more pronounced.
In the middle of the gleaming table, opposite of my entrance, sat Ashe Kraton. Her flowing red hair blended into the oak chair at certain points and slightly poked out of the golden dress. Pure white skin, however, showed every strand around her bare shoulders. Despite the apparent match of the flooring to her pigment, a stack of blue and gold tiles to the back left told of a remodeling coming as surely as the sun.
Those green eyes perused the stacks of paper before her with irritation that emphasized the sour puckering of blue lips below a small nose. When they turned up to me, they weren’t pleased but nor did my presence seem to add irritation.
“Out.”
That single word from her made every messenger, begging official, and cleaning maid turn towards the door like the compulsion of a magnet. We were alone after a second with only the two lion guards left, my young guide having flown out with the rest.
“You two as well.” She commanded.
The eyes where a lions should be went a bit wide. No guard would follow such an order, likely even from a governor. A mages command was heavier than anything else they would ever hear, however. As soon as they slammed the doors shut behind them, she conjured an air spell from the surrounding mana. Which, as a plant mage, I obviously couldn’t see. I made sure to give the appropriate raise in eyebrows when a rush of air suddenly enveloped us both and she stood up.
“They’ve finally admitted it. The miserable worms. As distasteful as their presence is, they'll be joining us soon.” She announced audibly.
“If it’s any consolation, I would have agreed anyway. Just a bit more forewarning would have been appreciated.” I offered mildly.
Hints of red seeped into her pronounced cheekbones.
“You were supposed to have been informed shortly before the battle. This has…. Yes?”
Right. No face covering. Why couldn’t these people be at least semi-civilized?
“Your speed in shaping events is certain to be the stuff of legend.” I offered with a small smile.
The barbed compliment brought a smirk to blue lips and those green pools relaxed ever so slightly.
“As are all great leaders. How bad is the collapse of the wall?”
“Not as bad as it looks,” I said with a shrug. “If it was facing the tree line…. But between the remaining wall and the one protecting the road to here, we have no worries about protection for as long as winter lasts. When spring arrives in a few months or so, it should be back up.”
The healing caster raised a red eyebrow in disbelief.
“That assumes the rest won’t crumble from the collapsed section.”
“There are webs of special bracing placed throughout that are designed to stop that chain reaction. A measure more to deal with monsters plowing through but it works no matter the cause.”
Ashe nodded before sitting back down.
“There are of course certain matters that shouldn’t be discussed over letter. I’m sure you’re aware of reports that Garren’s bane is working its way under your domain.”
It was my turn for my nose to flare and lips to pucker, now more genuine than it would have been before the tumbling of the wall.
“I’ve figured as much. Dealing with them will require a lot of crafts. Something I’ll be happy to put Percy and that bald woman to work on. Unless the Orcs have an earth mage of their own, of course. Then…. Who knows.”
Blue lips puckered again.
“Tilvor, even in jest, that is a poor thing to suggest. This-”
She looked behind me, killing the air spell just as quickly.
“Yes?”
Turning around, I saw a lion guard had opened the door.
“There was no response…. Two of the association representatives are here.”
“Let them in,” Ashe said with my turn back to her.
He left and we were soon graced with the presence of the two most worthless people in the region. Percy was still clad in green robes, though the inlay of gold leaves and emeralds seemed to be of a different pattern. Those brown eyes almost matching his tanned skin didn’t deign to look in my direction nor did his hand donned in gold rings reach out to me. Black, shoulder-length hair hid in the folds of the robes’ hood, contrasting with the bald head of the woman to his right.
“Greetings, lady Ashe.” The Mountain Top representative intoned, her blue eyes having a disinterested look around. Her muscular frame didn’t crease the leather tunic and black pants by bowing. Not that the jewelry store’s worth of precious gems and gold on her clothes would allow for such a maneuver. Unlike Percy, she did react to my presence by clenching her square jaw and turning her thick nose to the left.
“Same to you both,” Ashe responded with sweetness veering out of warmth and into mockery. “This will not be long, as I know your time is too valuable to waste. A hundred stone summoning and manipulation crafts. Each taking half of the whole and delivered in two days.”
The first matching color between the pair finally arrived. Red suffused their cheeks while Percy went stone-faced. Not content to let her disdain be merely seen, the bald woman took in a deep breath.
“You dare order me to work like a peasant?!” She hissed between gritted teeth.
“Nestel does.” Ashe offered mildly as she reached across the table. From the stacks of paper, her immaculate hand produced a specimen of a finer make than its kin. “She has gotten the permission of the associations to put ALL present members into any work needed without consideration of the agreements. An authority that has been lent to me.”
The bald woman stomped forward, taking the offered page like its odor offended. Blue eyes moved back and forth over the words with each swivel seemingly adding length to the scowl on her face. When the last bit of ink was gone over, she turned up with lips so thin they were close to baring teeth.
“How do I know this is legitimate? There could be copies ma-”
Percy dipped his head a bit at the same time she drew up short. The slight look back the bald woman gave made it clear they were talking in a spirit connection. Ashe, for her part, raised both eyebrows and clasped her hands together.
“Do you have some insinuation about these orders you want to make known?” She asked. The healer's pose was immaculate save for the keen look in those jade pools. They had the same eagerness a hunter had at a deer approaching the trap.
Whatever consequences questioning the validity of these orders were, they were enough to make even the bald woman think twice about making the accusation.
“And what will these be used for?” The Earth mage asked with barely restrained fury as she returned the page before stepping back towards her co-conspirator.
Ashe made the slightest nod towards me.
I returned the gesture before taking a step towards the miserable-looking duo.
“Molding homes for the workers, cleaning up the wreckage from yesterday’s mishap, shoring up the damage from the fight in the harbor. Just the things needed to realize the plan some of us agreed to but ALL of us are bringing to fruition.” I stated with a heavy look between the two.
“Yes,” The earth caster pondered with an aloof huff. “You have had some trouble keeping things up, and not just in the way most….older men do.”
The quick darting of her eyes below my waist made the suggestion clear. Not that she was content with that as she looked back up with a small smile.
“Is the journey to the disaster too long for you? We’ve heard you’ve not even visited the wall.”
Ashe now turned to me, the obvious question in those jade pools.
“It was an accident by the men. Fixing that section only involves picking up and molding stone into a single piece. If I were to ply my magic into fixing it, it would only further shame the men. Or so they’ve told me.
As noble as their resolution in absolving that stain is, the time scale of things doesn’t allow for such dignity. It will be your crafts doing a lot of the heavy lifting there while I’m focused on Harrah’s Thumb and the sea wall. The former of which needs to be finished as soon as is possible.”
Percy’s lips got a sour pucker, emphasizing furrowed black eyebrows. Bits of white colored those smooth tan cheekbones. Gaudy gold inlay played across the green robes as the caster plant mage started heaving like he came out of a fresh sprint.
“You’d dare ask us to sully our birthright on those filth? Have those hands that touch Garren’s Bane hold our magic?” He snarled, the hiss coming with hints of panic mixed with the rage.
“Yes, if Ashe’s vision of an Orc-less city is to be realized. Had I been given more time to prepare for this work, you may have only been required to help implant bracing into the walls. That world of what could be isn’t this one. A hundred crafts done up in boards with handles on the sides, three by two feet. Their manipulation fields twice those dimensions and stone summoning in equal size.”
Emeralds vibrated against each other in small clanks with the mages shakes as the man grit his teeth. Those mud eyes had the kind of contempt one should never show a scion. If that look didn’t convince everyone emotion was in his driver's seat, the next words out of his mouth did.
“Of course you wouldn’t have a problem making such a demand. The way you’ve been sullying MY element with that filth…. It wouldn’t surprise me if a taste for the green women was found in you as well.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly. The Mountain Top representative took a step back from both of us, blue pools wide with a sucked-in mouth as she tried her best to distance herself from the plant caster.
“Hyuk!” Ashe hiccuped somewhere behind me. There was no anger or objection in it. Just shock that such an explosive allegation had been made in earshot.
A second passed before Percy bit his lips white and those brown eyes looked around the room. Sweat dripped down his forehead as his brain caught up with what his tongue had done. It was probably the truest thing he’d ever said. Truth, however, wasn’t what I came to this city to deal in.
Taking a single step closer to him, the man’s head pulled back slightly. I stood there, staring at him with what I hoped looked like cold fury. Finally, I took a deep breath.
“Before the world was forever damned by the woman who shit you out, my partner, at only three days old, was working magic into miracle. The meager works I’ve heard you perform were done by my lost familiar at mere weeks of age. If someone of your impoverished talents were to ever spread into the Orc’s blood, it would only be cause for annoyance.
Being a scion entails great abilities and all the horrific consequences of their misuse. Something you will never understand or obtain.”
Percy got a bit more fight in him at that. His eyes went wide and white lips pursed into the sour expression of a child wanting to let their parent know what they really thought. Words that, this time at least, were kept on the inside.
“As limp as your talents are, we will put them to work fixing the mess you helped make. A hundred crafts, to the specification.”
I moved my right hand over the emeralds dotting his right shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
“If even a single one is out of that range, I will fashion ropes from these pretty robes in such a way that their jewels cut into your neck and arms for motivation. Understand?”
Percy nodded, looking downward as I released my grip.
“That will be all.” Ashe declared from behind.
The duo decided to stop with their mouths still above water, meekly turning around and going out the doors they slithered through.
“That was far outside of the acceptable,” Ashe scoffed as I turned to meet her green gaze. “I assure you it will be mentioned in my report to the queen.”
“The men assure me they need more tools,” I said with an indifferent shrug. “If those two come back and try to squirm out of their portion, let them know they will be tied up in full view of the worksite.”
She only gave me a simple nod in response.
With nothing left to do here, I let the two lion guards shepherd me through the tower and back into the cold outdoors. The carriage was still waiting for me with the driver finishing a bowl of something steaming in the winter air. Getting in was easy, as was laying back down on the bench. Sadly, no cart overturned on the way there, bringing what I suspected to be the good part of my day to an end as the typical entourage of men clad in red leather swarmed me.
Losing the morning was hard as far as my work schedule went. The delay wasn’t ill-received by the men working with me as their foreman wouldn’t dare reassign those meant to aid the great mage to other work. Five more bracing pillars were placed in the giant tower and I was able to get one last meeting in with the overseer concerning the sea-facing wall before that section was butchered and stitched back together. It was the single most important piece and the sheer amount of changes needed would strain this place more than any of its land-bound endeavors. After a few rounds of profuse reassurances, I left the man at his post and headed back home in the pitch black of winter’s night.
As I approached the domed rectangle on the river, I noticed the door was open. The men in the guardhouse merely nodded to me so I went on ahead. Coming over the drawbridge I saw a wide tub of wood near the dining table. Wisps of steam wafted off the water within though it looked less than half full. Something the blonde maid was mending with a large copper pot and rags for gloves. Coming through the door didn’t stop her from pouring more steaming water into the tub.
“We have more coming my lord. The master of the kitchen insisted on making it up to you for this morning, if it pleases you.” She intoned with a smile that almost went to her ears.
“A better man would expound on the wastefulness of using precious resources for one person. Perhaps one day I’ll be such a saint.” I offered with a sigh of relief.
She left, allowing me to undress in peace. Slipping a foot into the steaming bath left it feeling almost scorching. But I knew this heat would not last, so I forced myself in if for no other reason than to feel something that wasn’t deadly chill. It barely covered my stomach and I had to maneuver my feet to get the soles submerged.
The water was too hot yet no part of me would dare ask them for anything less blazing. By the time the bath chilled a degree or two, the brunette came with another pot. She regarded me with a smile and a bow before tipping the contents of the pot in. My focus was mostly on how amazing it felt, though her attempt to see what lay between my legs did not go unnoticed. However she felt about what wasn’t there, it didn’t show up on her face as she laid the pot on the table.
“Is that enough, lord mage?”
“More than, thank you,” I announced with a smile that stayed just above the waterline.
The brunette bowed again before leaving me alone. I soaked in the wooden bowl for a few minutes, near-blistering hear taking the aches out of my body with the white clouds. Winter would not be denied as the water cooled after a few minutes. I was reluctant to get out but when it began dipping out of lukewarm, the small corner of heaven was finally abandoned.
If left on the floor, I would probably wake up to a block of dirty ice in the morning. The water in the tub and clinging to my body was cast out the shaft with a water spell. Donning the black pants and white shirt left for me by the girls on the table to the right, I headed through the hallway door directly ahead. Taking the door on the immediate right brought me into the bedroom with a bed against the opposite wall and a desk to the left, all set in the glow of a mana lamp above.
Closing the door behind me, I shimmied under the bed and retrieved the radio box from a hidden hatch. Standing up, I pressed the button and went through the same depressed motions.
“Eli, calling in,” I announced through the mesh of metal on the bottom of the block.
“Durka responding. Finished.”
A jolt of excitement shot up my spine. This was going to be a long conversation, so I slipped between brown blankets before responding. Irritation, relief, and joy swirled through me, which made me press on the radio button a bit harder than needed.
“How’s Gula? Finished.” I asked.
“She’s fine. We….didn’t tell you we were leaving….” She said with a dying whisper.
I puckered my lips and took a deep breath.
“No, you did not. Is my wife ok?”
“She’s doing great. The Cradle was apparently a treat. Finished”
My mental map of this world put that place somewhere northward. The exact opposite direction I had sent Cell. He would at least enjoy the trip even if the trek back would be filled with the same worry that had clung to me these past two weeks.
“Why go there? Finished.”
Durka spent a few minutes explaining treaties of refuge with the Orcs residing in Ballud’s Folly. Cold finally sapped away any residual heat from the bath around the time she extolled the size of the forge in the monument to a monarch's hubris. Durka was a poor storyteller, jumping forward and backward at seemingly random points. At least, I assumed it was her telling me and not an unspoken relay for Gula. Whoever the stream of unordered thought was coming from, the rough flow made it all the more jarring when a hated name suddenly resurfaced.
“Demons?” I asked the wood box with furrowed eyebrows.
“Yeah.” She put in with a sad undertone. “They’re the real reason the humans made the mountain hold in the first place. They used us for magical talents to fight them on some coast in the Bodding Kingdom. Finished.”
Revelation landed with a dull plop. The question of whether Queen Nestel knows the truth of Ballud’s folly lamely presented itself in the meager mental space I had to spare it. Memories of dark forest, ungodly foul odors, and emptying my stomach while wearing a deer skull helmet didn’t allow much more. Like all pain, it had dulled to almost nothing yet the weight of responsibility still chafed.
“Was there anything else concerning them? Finished.” I asked the box.
“It was a brief explanation. Something about why the northern patrols aren’t running. As fascinating as it is, the scheme has nothing to do with us. The rest is just us agreeing to do runs between here and the Cradle. Finished.”
Despite the unpleasant mental detour, I was now more relaxed about this whole affair. That still left my exhaustion mixed with a bit of irritation at them leaving me to float in the wind for weeks without a word. Going at them directly about it would only make them defensive, so I decided on a far more underhanded reprimand.
“Good. Tell Gula that I’m glad to finally know she’s safe. This news is just what I needed for these rough nights. Finished.”
Dead silence came through the radio for a second.
“Guilt is a tool for mothers.” The voice of Durka accused from the box.
A smile crept up despite my best efforts.
“Amazing. Inventing faster-than-light travel was a big point in my universe's history. Yet Orcs here have somehow fashioned faster-than-light speech. I’ll be fascinated to see how you transferred the talent over the radios.”
The slow release of breath from the box kept my smile up but the following silence made it clear she was delivering the message.
“I’m sorry. Having a loved one run off somewhere dangerous with no way of helping is an all too familiar pain. I should have been more thoughtful before inflicting it on someone else. Finished.” Durka said as a proper relay.
So Gula won’t take her medicine without a fight.
“A man’s love is more powerful than life. Our pain can never be equal, as the aches of a beautiful woman are mortal wounds to us. That’s why we deal with the danger while the woman gets the children to safety. And in my eyes, Salamede is the only one who could match the lusciousness of your body.”
The honeyed words poured through copper and magnetic waves with no response for a long minute.
“Perhaps we should have this conversation during another theft. Finished” Dukra offered.
It was the closest to an outright victory that I was likely to get.
“I look forward to being robbed. The Cradle does sound a bit grim, though. Cold mountainside and lifeless plains of rock don’t paint a welcoming picture. What had you so enamored? Finished.”
Another minute of silence.
“The food was beyond compare. Steaks that barely held up against the knife and a spicy, herb sauce. That and it wasn’t on the ship that I had spent more than a week on. Which may have influenced my view of it. But I’ve been doing all the talking so far. Is everything still plodding along? Did you punch those mages in the mouth yet?” Durka offered.
A tired sigh was all I gave the box at first.
“A lot has happened on my end. Nothing that you can fix, sadly. I hate to leave you in suspense, but they’ll probably tell you soon enough and not giving you a heads up will make it easier to act surprised. Not that I’ve ever doubted your theatrical skills. Is there anything else about the trip?”
The wait was less than a minute this time.
“Small things not worth mentioning. We can’t compare it to your work in building a city yet keeping a ship going is still exhausting work. If that’s all, we wish you good night.”
A small grimace came with the offer. There was probably no way to hide the exhaustion in my voice and the burst of energy from their return had faded about halfway through the Cradle retelling.
“Good night, with all my love, Gula. A pleasant night to you as well, Durka.”
In the seconds of waiting, my grip on the cold wood finally slipped. As I retrieved it from the side of the pillow, I heard my mother-in-law’s voice.
“You too.”
With that, I reluctantly got up and placed the radio back in its hidden hole beneath the bed. Somehow, I also found the strength to smack the wooden panel by the door to turn off the light. Navigating back to the bed on memory alone brought the softness of the pillow around my face. No thought beyond the relief that Gula was finally back existed. That and the hell that seemed to always await me tomorrow. Both soon faded to nothing as sleep finally took me.