Travel aboard the walking machine of the enemy was a tedious business for ogres. The serpentine, segmented vehicle was gigantic, but the passages and compartments were far too small for anyone but Sulis to move though. As a result, she had become their sole pilot, handling everything from moving the legs to firing the flame and lightning weapons at interlopers to drive them off. That left the rescue party of Chasmites confined to the large bays at the bottom of the interlinked pods with nothing to do but rest and talk as the Naiad steered their ride ever onwards and downwards through the tunnels the enemy had bored.
Gastores and Sulis had been kept apart for two ‘nights’ now, as the group stubbornly stuck to calling the times when they sought out secluded places to stop the vessel for the bulk of the party to sleep. At such times Sulis was resting from the intensive work of piloting, while during the ‘day’ they couldn’t stop the vehicle at all, not even for breaks.
The path of their enemy had been cut through solid rock and ancient, forgotten trails, avoiding the inhabited areas of the Underworld wherever possible, however many times they passed regions where their foes had been forced to fight their way through monsters and formorians. All too often the rescue party had to do the same, attacked without warning.
Monster attacks had proven a blessing in disguise as their supplies ran ever lower, and while the others contemned the often sour, metallic flavors of much of the meat they gathered, the ogres found them surprisingly enjoyable.
Even the ogres found nothing to celebrate in the Formorians however.
Pallid, grotesque and hateful, the terrors of the Underworld were powerful foes and proved relentless in their hostility towards the striding walker.
Most attacks were by only small groups, scouts or patrols, which Sulis fought off with the golem’s weapons, allowing them to keep them moving, but more than once they had to slow and disembark their own force to defend their ride against larger, more coordinated attacks.
Had Berenike and the other Valkyries not been with them, Gastores doubted they’d have survived, let alone succeeded in protecting the vehicle.
It was fortunate that their one small machine didn’t seem to merit a dedicated pursuit. That gave them time to recover between assaults, and avoided the worst case scenario of multiple packs of formorian attackers grouping together to overwhelm them.
Even so their position was a precarious one.
Repeatedly Gastores found himself reflecting on how the mission now depended entirely on the naiad and her ability to command the alien mechanisms of the lumbering golem in whose guts they rode. It was far from the first time she’d proved crucial to their success.
The young ogre wanted to see her, to talk with her, about her ideas and their plans, but more than that he wanted to share his fears with her, about their task and the people they sought to rescue, and to explore what she’d said to him after they met the awatora – about how she liked him too.
Foolish as it was in their present circumstances, her affection was on his mind a lot. It might be no more than a fanciful escape from the dangerous, even foolhardy quest they’d set themselves to, but it felt like more.
Alas then, that the only contact he had with her was via the odd supernatural voice relays that let her speak into the rest of the machine from the control room.
He had no way to answer her, and so the burgeoning connection had been put on hold, before it had really begun.
Instead he was stuck talking to Ripides and the other ogres, and to the harpies and beastfolk, and all the rest. Everyone but the one person he wanted to see.
Their conversations had been far from boring however. At times it was almost enough to make him forget about the tangle of confusion and attraction and worry at the back of his mind.
“I had no idea that Lady Feme had been ignoring the needs of her people so badly,” Nefret said, with a soft, grave tone, the highborn harpy looking down at the others in the compartment with a sad expression, tinged with guilt.
“Always wants more, she does,” said one of the beastfolk, a vulpine named Patch.
Gastores supposed she was named for the red patch of fur that spread over one side of her protruding snout and down her otherwise brown shoulders. Her animalistic features made her rather cute to the ogre’s eye, while at a mere five foot tall the woman was hard to take seriously as a hunter, but she spoke with a self-assurance that showed she was well accustomed to dealing with others many times her size.
“I told them food was tight in Ruskin Valley, that we got people going hungry with how much we have to send up to the Shards. They just said I better get on with hunting more meat then, and not waste time complaining.”
Her fluffy hand clenched into a fist as she went on.
“Lady Feme says it’s for the sake of everyone, but it’s me and my sons who’re out every day hunting her meals, and it’s me and my sons who’re going to bed hungry. Where’s the sense in that? Ain’t we included in ‘everyone’? We all keep Chasm running and she just perches up on the Shards with the other harpies and enjoys herself.”
Others nodded at that, but several eyes turned to Berenike and Nefret, the two Valkyries present in their compartment.
Despite her smaller size, the fiery plumage and forceful will of the captain had seemed imposing until they got to know each other a little better. Now she felt much more one of the group, rather than some harpy leader imposed upon them. She was also thoroughly respected for her bravery and ability.
“Uh… not meaning any offence, Captain,” the woman added, looking over at the leader.
“No… it’s true. The nobles are meant to rule, but that just amounts to telling everyone else to keep doing what they’re doing. But it’s not like the other harpies have it much better you know,” Berenike said.
There was a stony disdain in her voice as she thought of the highborn ladies at court, and the smallfolk who served them.
“What’s that mean?” Ripides asked, his giant eye squinting down at her. “You live in the palace, right? With all them fancy ladies going feasting and all, sounds like you got life good alright.”
“I didn’t always live in the palace. I used to work for my meals. Still do when we’re deployed like this. But most harpies aren’t nobles or Valkyries. Most have to serve the nobles same as you lot. Being a harpy servant in the palace is about the same as being an ogre servant in Chasm. Harpy farmers and hunters still give up a share to nobles who sit around in their roosts and punish anyone who disobeys.”
“But not all nobles are… like Lady Feme,” Nefret said uneasily, her wings drooping. “And the Stormqueen is nothing like that either! Women like her just want what’s best for all of us.”
Berenike gave a heavy sigh.
“The Stormqueen is nothing like the schemers at court, but that doesn’t mean she can fix everything. Sometimes you want what’s best for everyone and still get things wrong. Look at what happened to Lady Safkhet…. She couldn’t even protect her own girlfriend. None of us could….”
Gastores caught a look of shame in her eyes as she spoke, but Nefret missed it.
“You shouldn’t say that, we’re lucky to have Empress Aellope,” the taller woman said quickly, looking as hurt as if Berenike had been speaking of her directly.
“The people putting up with Lade Feme don’t sound lucky. And what about the next empress? Or the one after that? What if one day a woman like Lady Feme rules the whole Empire?”
Gastores was listening in growing unease at the exchange. He’d never really considered that possibility of things changing in the Empire – the Stormqueen was the Stormqueen, and Lady Feme was the Lady of Grand Chasm. But… did things really have to be that way?
What if the Stormqueen stepped down and they just never crowned another?
If they just all went back to how things used to be, all the peoples of the mountains ruling themselves….
There were sure to be problems of course, but when he thought of the struggles of the Naiads it was clear to see that the current system wasn’t immune to those either. But no matter how hard they argued about it, could they really make anything change?
His thoughts were derailed as he felt a strange shudder moving through the metal under him.
Looking up, Gastores realized that the voices had fallen silent. The rhythmic steps of the walker had halted.
The harpies were looking downwards with fearful expressions.
“Earthquake coming, brace yourselves!” came the curt voice of Sulis from the controls in the head of the golem.
A moment later the first tremor reached them, rocking the massive vehicle.
Some terrible power seemed to come with it, pervading the space, yet Gastores couldn’t make it out, aware only of a buzzing pressure all around him in the air.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Violent shocks struck in quick succession, clanging sounds echoing through the hold as rock fell atop the hull.
Clinging to Ripides’ arms, Gastores could only hope that the rocks dislodged were smaller than those the Formorians had brought down on the machine previously.
~~~
After the menacing, overwhelming power which had passed them by, it seemed miraculous that no-one was hurt. The mysterious shockwave had left their ride half-buried by fallen debris, but the pieces were small and the machine too had endured the impacts without significant damage.
Most among the party thought themselves lucky indeed that their only loss was a little time, even if there were more than a few grumbles about their need to dig the golem out of a rockfall… again.
They got to work quickly, before any Formorians could chance upon them again while they were stuck.
“Still, wish we knew what that thing was,” Ripides said, working at Gastores’ side to heave away boulders from the legs. “Sure weren’t no quake.”
“It was way too strong to be anything else,” said a beastfolk man, Lap, panting as he struggled with a stone several sizes too large for him.
His pointed ears and tail were flat against his body even now, minutes later.
“Unless it was… a warning from the gods?”
“Nemoi wouldn’t send earthquakes,” Heba said, giving the smaller figure a doubtful glance as she worked.
She and Nefret were sliding the largest stones away on sheets of ice Nefret was providing.
“What about Soleil, or one of the other gods?” the latter suggested.
The beastfolk man shook his head. “Nah, nah, not harpy or human gods, I’m talking about our gods, the beastfolk gods! It could be a sign from Esus.”
Patch laughed bitterly. “If any god sent that omen it was Arva.”
“Don’t say that,” Lap hissed, ears twitching, as though The Stalker might hear, and come for them as his next prey.
“I’m more worried about it not being the gods,” Gastores said, thinking aloud. “What if it’s the enemy?”
“That’s impossible,” Berenike declared flatly, from further down the side of the stuck machine. “You probably couldn’t feel the mana as clearly, but I could. If they had power like that they could have destroyed Grand Chasm with a single attack.”
“That’s only if they wanted it destroyed though. They seem to want to conquer us, not just wipe us out,” he argued.
“Even if they wanted our surrender, if they had power like that they would have used some of it,” Nefret countered.
“What if this is a new weapon? Or one they didn’t want to have to use?” he asked.
He paused, to allow the others to consider his words, but in that interval another, more sinister thought came to him.
“Or… a weapon that needs power other than just mana. Like… sacrifices.”
“Then the reason they’re taking captives-” Heba began.
“That’s speculation. It could be anything down there,” Berenike said firmly. “That’s why… I think we should try and change course. If it is a weapon the surface has to know about it. If it’s something else, well, with power like that we have to know what it is. Even the captives the enemy took could be wiped out before we even reach them if the source of that quake spreads up here.”
There was consternation at that suggestion, especially from those whose loved ones had been taken, but while she could have simply made it an order, Berenike chose to gather everyone together, even Sulis, who had been up in the control room, and talk the idea out with the group.
Gastores found he seemed to command impressive influence, despite his unimpressive performance in battle, and in the end he and Berenike led the party to reach the same conclusion they had.
Just as so many others across the great continent of Aludor, they would investigate the terrifying eruption of supernatural power.
They never even dreamed that it could be the results of one human girl’s careless use of the Words of Creation, to repair the fabric of Reality.
~~~
Elegant flakes of ice flittered down slowly over the stillness in the wake of the battle at Vitrgraf.
The delicate crystals hissed as they settled on the fallen body of the enemy, still too hot to touch bare-handed. The only other sounds were the rumbling churn of magma below, and the racing of Ivaldi’s heart.
Safkhet was motionless, save for the blood still oozing from her countless wounds.
Terrible as her injuries were, Ivaldi had no doubt that the ‘human’ still lived.
“Is anyone dead?” asked Beyla, the first to break the near silence.
If anyone was, they didn’t admit it.
“Everyone, report,” Uldmar demanded.
There was a note of irritation in his voice that it had been the captain who thought to ask first, but he mostly just sounded exhausted. Ivaldi could sympathize there.
Two Skidbladnir were irreparably destroyed, good for no more than spare parts after the loss of their cores, but the pilots had miraculously escaped any serious injury. Thanks to the cooling systems in the mine chamber they weren’t even too uncomfortable outside of their vehicles – although they’d need a ride to make it back to the crawler.
Five more production models were in bad shape, but mobile and reparable, with the pilots suffering no more than bloody noses and bruises.
All three of the ancestral models Uldmar’s team brought were also damaged, but they too could return to the crawler under their own power, where Ivaldi would attempt repairs.
“We were very lucky,” Beyla said.
Her remaining Triskelion helped her damaged immersion suit back to its feet. It had lost an arm, and with it the only ‘weapon’ it had, but the hydraulics had detached the broken stump and closed the valves to maintain pressure to the rest of the machine. Ivaldi couldn’t help but think she had been the luckiest of anyone.
“We… we need to leave, right now,” Ivaldi said, with a boldness that was quite odd to his own ear. “There could be more kajatora around.”
Unhappy noises spread through the linked cockpits, transmitted over their voice communication, as the others considered the disturbing thought. It wouldn’t even take another the size of the gargantuan beast which destroyed the mine – just one on the scale of the earlier pair would already doom them all.
“The Chief Aulogemscire is right. We have all the data we’re going to get already,” Hylli pointed out. “And… all of this… could have further destabilized the area.”
As she spoke she gestured vaguely towards the burning ruin of glass, stone and metal which had once been a colossal mine, and also towards the unconscious figure at their feet.
“Agreed,” Beyla said quickly. “Lord Uldmar, please finish off that monstrosity quickly, before it wakes up. I think we’re all eager to get out of here.”
“Finish? But the kajatora is dead…,” Ivaldi murmured, confused.
“Gather around, all of you. We shall hit with everything all at once. If the creature tries to attack again Hlesey and I will force it over the edge and into the magma.”
Uldmar spoke with grim resignation, and those Skidbladnir still able to move quietly obeyed, gathering in a crescent around the body. Even Ivaldi’s assistants were lined up with them.
Around the body of Safkhet.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Ivaldi asked, of on-one in particular. “You can’t kill her, she surrendered! We have to take her with us!”
Uldmar turned his Skidbladnir, looking over at Ivaldi, disbelief apparent in his voice despite his face being hidden.
“I knew you were no warrior, Ivaldi, but after your contributions to the expedition and the battle I believed I’d misjudged you; that you were at the least a man of some intelligence and courage. We barely survived this monstrosity’s attack, we shall not give it another chance, to recover and challenge us with its full strength!”
“It’s true, just as Lord Hreidmar says, this thing has to die. Right now, before it wakes up and slaughters us all,” Idavoll insisted, an urgency in her voice which reflected the serious damage her Skidbladnir had suffered.
“Naturally, it must die!” Hlesey declared with a derisive snort. “But perhaps the Councilor lacked a sufficient view of the battle from his position, so far back at the rear of the formation? May it be that he was unaware of the mortal peril Lady Idavoll and Lord Uldmar braved?”
Hlesey spoke with a rapidity that belied his easy tone, as if he feared Safkhet might wake at any moment, as unlikely as that seemed.
“Councilor,” Captain Beyla spoke, before Hlesey could go on. “This thing killed a kajatora that could have obliterated the entire Deephold. Even if you managed to communicate with it, it’s clearly hostile to us and far too dangerous to let live. We don’t have the power to contain it, so our duty is clear. It has to die, for the sake of the Kingdom.”
Her voice was low and hard, with a sense of finality that frightened him.
Ivaldi looked between the captain and the aristocrats, distressed by the sudden alignment of the bickering factions, on this of all questions.
Hylli seemed to sense his dismay, and spoke quietly as he hesitated. “Chief, you don’t have to prove anything. You’ve already saved us all. Let them take care of the rest. You’re too… kind to do this sort of thing.”
With that the others raised their arms, gem weapons gathering power to unleash fire and lightning both on the helpless figure of the girl lying on the twisted, warped metal.
Ivaldi wanted to stop them, to make them understand that this was all wrong, but how could he? Hlesey and many of the others already thought him nothing but a fool and a coward. Even his own assistants thought he was just weak.
“Weapons at the ready,” spoke Uldmar, as the rune-scribed gems in the palms of the machines started to glow.
Ivaldi looked down at the glittering gemstone still lying on the ground by Idi’s feet, all but forgotten. It seemed alive with energy and meaning, complex patterns moving through the lattice of circuits, like the beating of a heart.
Safkhet might be nothing but a monster to the others, but she’d been willing to surrender herself for that sake of that relic. He couldn’t understand why. Ivaldi found it a fascinating and compelling device, worthy investigation and careful disassembly, but even if the girl felt the same, she must have known it would be taken from her when she gave herself up. She must even have known that her surrender could cost her life, and probably would.
“Fire on my count,” Uldmar commanded. “We must destroy the aberration outright before the pain can rouse it.”
They all thought she was a berserk, bloodthirsty monster, inherently hostile and violent, like all the creatures which lived on the surface.
“Three.”
Yet Safkhet had chosen to brave death for the odd supernatural cube, or for something it represented.
“Two.”
In that moment where she was tested, the girl had found someone she was willing to sacrifice herself for. She’d pleaded with him, not to hurt ‘them’.
He’d promised her that.
“One.”
“Stop!” Ivaldi screamed, as he threw himself in front of the fallen girl.
“Ivaldi?! What is the meaning of this?!” roared Uldmar.
The nobles lowered their hands uncertainly.
“We can’t do this! We’re not monsters, not any more than she is! She spoke to me, she begged me! Whatever species she may be, this woman is a thinking and feeling person. She surrendered to us, and we don’t execute captives!”
His blood was pumping and his hands sharking, but Ivaldi kept going, shouting down anyone who tried to argue.
“I’ve seen her before, in the records from Grand Chasm – this is Safkhet, the human who fought for the Harpies and fell into the Underworld. She spoke to our Varangians there too, and she told them to surrender – she didn’t want to hurt them. Even after she was injured and bleeding, she never killed anyone, and it was the same here, this wheel!”
“You’d have us spare this monster just because it hasn’t killed anyone yet?!” Idavoll asked, outraged. “What about when it wakes up and decides it doesn’t like being our prisoner?!”
“She’s not a monster! I… that is, the Harpies, they think she’s human, but whatever species she is, she isn’t a mindless animal. If I can talk to her I can reason with her – she was willing to be captured, maybe even to risk being killed, rather than let me crush this… this relic here. I don’t know what it is, but it must be important. While we have it, she won’t try to escape.”
“This is all fascinating information, but I wonder why we’re only hearing it now? Rather than when the monstrosity first attacked, and information on our foe could have proven useful?” Hlesey asked, affability soured by bitterness. “Instead we learn this now, when it serves only to stay our hands and grant succor to the beast.”
“What are you saying?” Hylli asked. “Are you accusing the Chief Aulogemscire of something?!”
“Why not at all,” he said quickly, his Skidbladnir’s head shaking emphatically. “I’m simply observing how rather ironic it is that the Chief Aulogemscire seems to have suffered an astonishingly misfortunate malfunction with his Skidbladnir during the battle against the creature. One which paralyzed him as if in deplorable cowardice, or deliberate malice-”
“Enough,” snapped Uldmar. “The Councilor saved us all. He may be a fool, but we shall not forget that. Nor shall we forget that will of the King. The enemies from the surface are to be taken alive, this creature included. The Pharyes do not slaughter our captives.”
Roused to sullen anger by the absurd and dishonest insinuations being made against him, Ivaldi thought he must surely have misheard, or misunderstood Uldmar’s words, but as others among the deepborn party protested he realized, to his bewilderment, that the Justicar’s nephew meant just what he thought.
Beyla spoke with a stern, calm manner which cut through the noise of too many voices speaking at once.
“Lord Uldmar, I cannot agree to this. You have your ideals, and I admire them, but I have to think of what’s best for our people. We can’t contain this creature, whatever it is, and we can’t rely on some mysterious gem as a hostage.”
“You would defy the will of King Jotunn?” Uldmar asked sharply.
“The King is not here, Lord Uldmar, and I refuse to hide behind a royal decree if it endangers the entire kingdom. If his majesty determines I have betrayed his wishes I will gladly accept my punishment when we return to the Deephold.”
“The captain’s right,” Idavoll cut in, with approving sounds from Hlesey and the other nobles. “If this monster revives and attacks there might be no Deephold to return to. What good are our morals if we’re all dead?! We have to kill it, right now, this very moment. This may be our only chance!”
“Lady Idavoll speaks naught but the truth, hard though it is to hear!” Hlesey said, urging and urgency in his voice. “This monstrosity is beyond us – I am no fool, Lord Uldmar, I know well we should have fallen to the last had the beast met us in a fair battle. Even terribly wounded as it was, the lives of three colossal dragons were insufficient to end its rampage, or even to slake its bloodthirst. What we faced this wheel was a grotesque abomination, merely masquerading as a human.”
Uldmar was silent at that. After a moment Ivaldi noticed that the man was looking over at him, Gres-Jarn facing the councilor’s own Idi. With his face hidden, Ivaldi could only imagine the usual contempt on his face, but as Uldmar spoke again his tone was quite unexpected.
“It would seem we have no choice in this matter, Councilor.”
Ivaldi looked down at the bleeding, broken form of their captive, unconscious on the floor.
“Of course we have a choice! We always have a choice!”
Ivaldi spoke with resolve he had seldom known, the words forceful and assured in their conviction. His hands were hardly shaking at all.
“She surrendered to us. She isn’t some unthinking monster; she’s a person, able to think and understand and feel the same as we can. We started the fighting too - until we attached Grand Chasm she didn’t even know we existed. No matter how… frightening she is… we can’t just murder her. It’s wrong, no matter what anyone says later, whether the King agrees or punishes us. Whether it gets us hurt or protects us.”
Through the layers of metal and projected abstraction Ivaldi felt his eye meet that of Uldmar.
“This isn’t like fighting off Formorians or defending colonies from the Grafvollud. Whatever she is, whoever her people are, they were living peacefully until we attacked them. We’re the invaders this time, and this whole war is our fault, whether we had a choice or not. We can… we should at least accept it, when our enemy surrenders. Otherwise we’re no better than you think she is.”
“And if you’re wrong? If when she wakes this creature seeks only to annihilate us all?”
“We’ll take every possible precaution to restrain her, and if she tries to break free, we’ll threaten the gemstone again. Whatever it is, she was willing to be captured along with it, rather than see it destroyed.”
“If that fails?”
“Then we’ll be at her mercy, as she’s at ours now.”
Uldmar gave a long, heavy sigh, the irritable, dismissive, impatient noble sounding vulnerable for once, even pained.
“It seems I was wrong about you after all, Councilor Ivaldi. You are a man of greater courage than I. Your intelligence I’m less sure of however.”
“Then you won’t… I mean… you aren’t going to….”
“Safkhet lives, for now. See to it that we do not regret this.”