Meeting with a Real murderer...
“You haven’t felt Sama’s Null,” Briggs sniffed, and leaned forward conspiratorially, the man matching him reflexively. “Cold, smooth, and diamond. I wouldn’t try charming her. She’s Senior to all of us.”
The man straightened thoughtfully. “Well, my Brothers are not prone to exaggeration. I felt the deaths of two great Interlopers reverberating through the manafield.” His dark eyes turned unerringly to the very spot they had died upon, the grass still stained white in two superimposed circles, then the places where the Carnage and Slaughter demons had died. “She stirred the Land to feast...”
“That much vivus? Hell, yeah!” Briggs confirmed. He tilted his head, and the Firesword naturally settled on Sama, Tatting up foresters and wardancers. Those already Marked were gathered off to the side, eyes focusing on nothing as they gawked at The Map inside their heads, and helplessly added to it. Some were chatboxed, and moving their hands in silent synch and awe, testing the Marktell.
They were also realizing that yes, some people were indeed smarter, wiser, and more forceful than others, and in Markspace, it was wholly and completely obvious.
His eyes took it all in, silent, studying, analyzing. His gaze turned back to Briggs, who was watching a spinning centrifuge as he prepared to melt down some gold to make Amulets.
Cold Resist 1, Fire Resist 1. Ironblood Amulets, Sama had called them.
“I was told that you would forge me a Void-bound Sword,” the Firesword finally spoke.
Briggs inclined his head again. “SHE will do that. She’s much better than I am, at present. A Starter Sword, of course, unless you’ve adamant with you.”
The Void Brother shook his head once. “Should I procure some first?”
“Not unless you’re planning to get a post-Zieben-level Sword shortly. You’re better off taking advantage of this opportunity to raise its Name as fast and far as possible. When you’ve got a few days of not fighting, sure, go get some. Or, better yet, just arrange for someone else to deliver it. Sama can make it during downtime, and you can transfer the Name anytime.”
The most widely known and feared of the Void Brotherhood thought that over. “Does this Mark truly allow you to speak with someone over great distances freely?”
“By way of the back of Sama’s mind, yes. You’re basically talking in a room in the back of her head, so others can hear you.”
His dark eyes darted to her. “So, she can hear everything?” he asked quickly.
“Yes. Rule One of Marktell: don’t say stupid and embarrassing stuff in Marktell. Not that most people would dare...”
“My Brothers confirmed they can use this telepathy by physical contact.”
“Mark Resonance, yes,” Briggs named it dutifully.
“They also said that she has Marked people stretching the length and breadth of the whole continent.” His voice held a mild note of disbelief.
Briggs scratched his ear despite himself. “Well, that shocked the Hell out of me, too. It turns out that while she was trapped in Nightmare, she built herself up an army of dream soldiers, and Marked them all. It seems all those Marks followed them dreamers back to real life, and she and they didn’t realize it until she sent out an Omnitell to everyone.” He harrumphed. “There’s about four thousand of them, and yeah, they’re spread out all over the continent.”
“That is an extraordinary ability,” the Firesword murmured, eyes flashing.
“You do realize that any succubus could do the same thing, right?” Briggs huffed, and the Firesword blinked. “No, the most amazing thing is that she stole the ability, not that it exists.”
“I see...” He was clearly mulling over the implications.
“You either trust her, or you don’t,” Briggs offered. “There’s no control function, no shoving spells through it to control others; she’s a Null. Of course, you’re going to be in contact with a Deep Ten, and that’s probably going to be a humbling experience.”
The deep eyes turned on him, weighing the options. “My Brothers were quite enthusiastic about her. It was... rather unnatural,” he admitted, privately amazed at how seriously he was taking this young Ancient’s words. Then again, this Ancient talked like an orator, not a primitive tribesman. That fact alone meant he was extraordinary.
“I imagine that kind of enthusiasm isn’t something that comes to people as disparaged as the Brotherhood are. Likewise, the understanding of equals, instead of disdain and scorn. Add in the clarity of telepathic communication, and the ability to chat with so many others after so much isolation... I imagine they are still adapting.
“Oh, and the Shadowknife really wants to add your intelligence network to the Marked, letting him wield all sorts of nasty little tricks from halfway across the globe. If you can link up with other Brotherhoods elsewhere, and start sharing knowledge...”
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The Firesword let out a grim breath, clearly wavering. “That is a monumental amount of trust, young Master Briggs.”
“It is. But since you possess the ability to remove the Mark at any time, not exactly a risk to you.” Briggs shrugged. “Once you see The Map and realize what a lot of people in a lot of places can do when they pool their talents in real time, I think you’ll come around.”
“And this Soul Magic?” he pressed further, not having much knowledge of the art.
“Can’t have a Vajra Soul without it.” Briggs glanced at him as he began to drop the molten gold into carved molds already filled with the silver for the other side, which he’d have to carve and trim appropriately. It didn’t require much in the way of QL, so he’d be able to work quickly. The alchemical wash he’d treated them with would ensure the two metals bonded as smoothly as electrum. “And it will help immensely with your foundation. Imagine being able to slaughter demons and Feed the Land, rather than just sending them home, to come back again at the next opportunity.”
His Helix seemed to flash, subtle hue changes, like dim flames of every color imaginable. In the thaumaspectrum, it was probably a blaze of magic, the flames of the Fire and the Sword, the horrifying final sight of many a demented spellcaster.
“The two are not related, by the way. She’ll pop open your chakra points even if you don’t want the Mark,” Briggs informed him blandly.
“She gives away such power so easily.” He could see the sparking glow of the Soul magic as some of the Opened Rangers brought up the Lightning Gauntlets, and cool swirls as a few others, mostly archers, manifested the Cloudstepping Sandals.
“She gives away the chance at power easily. You still have to develop it,” Briggs corrected mildly.
The Firesword smiled despite himself. It had been a long time since anyone but his Brothers had dared to correct him so casually.
“Also, Sama Rantha is The Sage of Swords, and a Grandmaster of the Sword.”
The Firesword’s dark eyes suddenly lit up with an interest that had nothing to do with Helices.
“A Grandmaster!” he repeated intensely. “You are certain?”
“I’m a Grandmaster of the Hammer, so, yeah, I’m certain.”
Those dark eyes turned around on him in amazement. “Surely you are too young to claim such a Title,” he half-scoffed.
“Not claiming nothing. Just stating a fact,” Briggs replied easily. Helices rippled over his Source flames, and despite himself, the Firesword sucked in a breath. “Titles like that are earned and bestowed, not just taken like, say, a throne.” His pale violet eyes met the Firesword’s with a complete lack of fear. “You’re a better all-around fighter than I am, and you’re surely gonna have the sneak attack one-shot kill down cold. But I’m not a Ten yet, and I can easily match you in terms of slaughter. Give me a few months, and there’s no way you’re going to be anywhere near me on a battlefield.”
The Firesword was very impressed. This junior Ancient was rippling with firmness of purpose, Fate blowing past his Void, undaunted by the most famous assassin in the lands, as if knowing there literally was nothing for him TO fear.
He was an excellent judge of men, even beyond his Helix being able to read a man’s soul with a touch. This Ancient’s Soul was at Five... but the fire of it, burning so hot and steady and firm, was like nothing he had ever encountered. There were Tens who didn’t have such a firm soul, and he was burning there for anyone and everyone to see...
He was the most feared killer of men in all these lands, but this was a Source of life, of railing resistance against Fate and the gods, like nothing he had ever felt before.
It was like looking at hope...
He was aware he was staring, and averted his eyes. Briggs just chuckled. “Like a sun, right? That’s what it means to be a Source.” He glanced at Sama helplessly. “She’s like a mountain. And you, you’re like a fine wind...” Briggs coughed and looked away, and the Fire and the Sword found himself slightly embarrassed as his own Helix was measured right back at him.
“Right. Shoo. Make your choice, get Marked or not, she’ll open your Chakras. Come back, we’ll chat over your options, and get started on your Sword. Oh, let me see it.” He held out a hand bigger than an adult human’s.
The Firesword smiled to himself about how few people had ever seen his unsheathed Sword and lived, even as he slowly brought it out. The length of fire-blackened steel, the Runes like softly wind-blown coals, cleared its scabbard, and he laid the longsword carefully onto that callused palm.
He watched Briggs bring it back, give it a casual once-over, and make an impressed frown. “An Akt Weapon. First one I’ve seen outside the dwarves, and that was a high-ranking officer. +III Ruby Allfires Blooding Magebane of Subtlety.” His palm moved down the length of the blade, and the Runes swirled a bloody red fire as his hand passed over them. “This is at least three thousand years old, human make, there’s a trace of scarletite in it, letting it hit QL 36. Made by a post-Ten Caster, probably an Eleven, it’d be a +IV if she were a Twelve.”
“She?” blinked the Fire and the Sword.
“Definitely a she. Probably made for her lover, I’d imagine.” His eyes turned soft. “Weep... such an appropriate Name.”
The Firesword shivered despite himself. How many spellcasters had died to this Sword? Weep, for the necessity of having to kill them. No joy, only talent crushed in the night, because it could not discipline itself and become something pure and great that contributed to the advancement of the human race, but only its decline.
No one other than his Brothers had heard the Name of this Sword and still lived, yet this Ancient had read the Name instantly. Truly a Master Smith...
Briggs handed it back. “I think I can persuade Sama to part with enough adamant to keep it at Akt, but she may just argue it’s not necessary, it’ll be stronger when we’re done with it than it is now, and its main purpose is to grow, not to be high QL.”
The Firesword sheathed it slowly. He knew the value of an Akt Sword, especially one as monstrously strong as his, but the Ancient boy seemed completely uncaring, as if its value was just some number flung out there, a truly impressive demeanor. “I will go over these options in some detail,” he warned Briggs, who just nodded with a kind of ‘I’d make you do so’ look on his face that reassured him, almost despite himself.
He sighed and turned his attention to Sama, who looked to be finishing up. Without another word, he strode toward the slender, short woman of unknown origin.
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“Decide, oh Fire and Sword. Mark or no Mark.” I put my hands on the Tatting bench, to put it away or not.
He pulled up before me, half a foot taller than me at present. I simply had to grow up faster...
He looked me up and down, and an odd look flitted past his face. “You’re a Hagchild,” he said, in a tone which no one else could hear. I noticed the shoulder by his Sword twitched...