“Give it a spine.” They all turned as Traveler descended from above calmly, and even the shoggoth was turning nine eyes on her. “You’ve given it organic structure, not a firm structure it can cling to, which can purify it and remove the unnaturalness of its origin. The vivus is soothing it, the Life Spiral in the blood is giving it guidance. Give it something firm to hold onto, as Smior is doing.”
Briggs considered that, and raised an eyebrow as a narrow grey tendril extended tentatively, and touched the head of Endure gently.
“You want a spine of adamantine? You’ve got good taste!” Briggs stated affably. He looked over the bulging mass calmly. “A chain, six meters long, links twenty millimeters thick. Trav, I’ll probably need the whole reserves of Heavenbound Hall for the moment. Can you go get them?”
“On my way.” She vanished in a flicker, Dim-dooring back to her Lived-Line, and then ‘porting back across the sea to the exotic materials storage area in Heavenbound Hall.
“
“
“
A dozen small mouths and organs formed in a ripple, and spoke out in a discordant, “
A Forging Disk rose up out of Briggs’ Masspack, and he looked over as Traveler came skimming along the ground from down the road, a Disk with slabs of dark metal upon it trailing behind her. Runes began to glow hotly on Briggs’ Floating Forge. “Alright, then. Let me get out of this armor, and get to work. I’ll leave you all to clean up the rest properly.”
--------
“That was gods-damned brilliant, Lord Mick,” I said, still a bit in disbelief despite myself. “You’re making me feel guilty for everything I did in Antarctica.”
“Aye?” he smiled slightly, but it ran away as he watched Burble, who had a dozen eyestalks watching everything Briggs was doing with great interest. The ongoing changes were as slow and steady as a heartbeat, and if unnatural, didn’t actually look or sound so offensive now.
“What gave you this idea?” I had to ask, shaking my head. There was no hammering going on here. Briggs simply reached into the molten metal, his flesh glowing white-hot, his bones visible inside his hands, and drew out a handful of the heavy metal. His Vajra wrapped it around his fist, and he molded and cooled it with big fingers. Wisps and strands of Runework wove through the rapidly-cooling metal, with ridges and curves that conveyed some absolute geometric rigidity at the same time as indulging coordination and representation of forms.
The first link was in his hand as he dunked it in the molten metal again, and began to weave the next link through it, joining them together directly, no sign of a weld.
There were a bunch of people looking on, splitting their attention between the great vivic bonfires of the krakens blazing out there in the water, the scattered pieces of Deep Ones burning down and away all over the place, and the animated blob watching the huge smith molding molten adamantine with his bare fists.
There had been wounds, and nearly a score of near-deaths. Near, if I had not been there, and Cure Mortal Wounds had not reached out and saved them, while a convenient flight of Shards made sure their killers weren’t around to keep them dead... and recharge spent ki, of course.
A Healing Trap took care of most of the light injuries, and Morningglory had Healing Reserve, rapidly attending to the remainder.
It was a great victory for them, and even if it was barely false dawn, the people of Shannon were still incredibly excited at what had gone down here. They could sense that they had participated in something great and unprecedented, and of course, Glory Awards were always huge rushes, even if you didn’t know what they were.
“I saw the sights ye passed on down from the cold hell. Those things screaming out all lost and mad and not knowing a way. Aye, monstrous and fell and alien and crazy powerful, and I thought... they may be alien, but that’s their land, the only place they ever called home. All their life they were slaves; they rebel, they win, and they are still slaves in all the ways.
“They were made to become any tool, any machine, any device for their masters... so, why couldn’t they become a device that would make them sane and free?”
I nodded slowly at his words. “And you thought blood would do the job?”
“Aye, backed with vivus, an’ magic, and a people’s tie to the land. Give it a structure it can cling to an’ feel, but isn’t required or commanded to. Give it a structure... aye, an’ I thought, it has no structure, that means it has no name. With no name, can it ever be free?
“An’ so I thought of this, and one day, when I went down to the Pole there, I was going to test it out. Then this all took place, and I realized that here was a place that blood yearned to be free, and it was the time.”
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Something caught in the cold, callous grip of undying, uncaring masters. Perhaps only a Blooded could empathize with something that monstrous. I’d only calculated the best ways to get rid of them to maximize my Karma...
“Is that when you decided you were going to be King?” I inquired softly, and both he and Amaretta looked at me in surprise.
“How did ye...” he began to splutter.
“You found your heart in the screams of creatures doomed to insanity forever. I’m guessing you saw a bleakness at the end of a long road, and you realized you were heading in the direction of your Elders, whether you liked it or not, and it was time to break free of everything they intended for you.
“You’ll be a fine King. The last godsdamned thing the Land needs is some undead thing’s idea of a Bloodline determining worthiness to take that Crown.”
The Mick sighed, and looked at his lady, who nodded silently. “Know ye Amaretta’s tale?”
“All I needed to know is that she’s a Blakhamar.”
The pale, dark-haired beauty straightened despite herself, chin raising proudly. “And proud I am to hold that name... but it was not the name I was born with.”
“Tarantkov Clan?” I asked calmly, and she blinked. “Hey, I do my research, all the time. I’ve basically got two people looking up stuff for me all the time so I can read it out of their Visual Files. Do you think a good picture of the Tomb Clans was NOT a good thing to learn?” I asked archly.
“More.” The Mick smiled fiercely. “Meet ye the granddaughter of Czar Nicholas II by Nyovo Tarantkov. ’Twere not like a human could resist the wiles of a Blooded seductress back then.”
I blinked. “You’re a Romanov?” I had to say.
Amaretta inclined her head. “Papa was actually my mother’s retainer. When we fled the Fall, he was able to carry me away, even as he was transforming to as he is now. The rest of my family fell as the undead in the Motherland rose, or the Elders went mad and slew them.”
Leaving unsaid they were probably all still there, and undead...
“Have you proposed yet?” I asked The Mick archly. “To be blunt, screw the Romanovs and the Tarantkovs, you’re marrying a Blakhamar. You’d best do it proper!”
“Aye, and I did go on my knee afore the old man, and pledge to treat his daughter as the Queen she would be,” he swore, reaching out to take the hand of the eldest of the children of the Blakhamar family, who clasped it firmly. I did notice that Q, too. “We did make a deal, ruthless Blooded bastiches that we are.” They leaned in their heads together to touch, equally wicked and knowing smiles on their faces, and I realized The Mick had indeed found someone he could spend his centuries with.
“Oh, this I have to hear.” Seriously, I did.
“I will be King for a generation, shepherding Ireland through the Hell that is to come, an’ she will be me queen, raising sword and blood where I will not go.” His eyes glowed crimson for a moment, and I knew he had something very important in mind.
“And when that generation passes, and that hairy brute either steps down from being King of Asia, or moves on to being Emperor of the World or whatnot, he will pass the Crown of Ireland to another, and I shall be Queen of Russia, and he shall be my king, going where I will not!” she declared, chin lifting high, her eyes almost rubies in their brilliance.
My eyebrows headed for my hairline. “Ambitious and practical. Nobody’s going to be doing land grabs in Russia while dealing with the mess that is coming down, and him being King gives you freedom to set things up for your Queendom, while ensuring that you’ve both a very powerful and trustworthy consort with experience to back your Crowns.” I looked back and forth between them. “You swore Blood Oaths, did you not?”
“Aye,” they nodded together, not at all offput. “On magic and blood and Lore,” The Mick went on. “Och, a horrible thing, to have our hearts so open to the other!”
“He’s starting to pick out men for me to ogle,” Amaretta whispered conspiratorially, giving me a wink.
“Do you want her to be your equal?” I asked The Mick directly, and he narrowed his eyes, as Amaretta lifted her eyebrow.
“Aye,” he agreed softly. “Shit is coming, and we’ll be havin’ t’ fight, there’ll be no doubting. I hae no fear of her.” He patted his chest above his heart, and she blushed delicately.
“Well, then, say the words,” I smiled at him.
He glanced at me, at her, and she realized that something important and secret was about to happen.
“I Wish...”
----------
Sean Highsun sat down in a private room in Our Mother’s Grace with The Mick and Amaretta, and I closed the door behind them. I didn’t need to hear the negotiations that would be going on, but no doubt they would be asking me things later.
No doubt he was going to be absolutely incredulous about The Mick’s intentions, especially as such a prodigal son returning home... but The Mick was older than he was, too, pointedly further advanced along the trail he needed to take, and would have an approach.
I looked forward to hearing about it.
Briggs was molding the last link into form, his Vajra doing work that chisels and picks could not as molten Earth-Energized Tungsten alloy settled into the obdurate form of the hardest known metal.
People were still shaking their heads that he could do all that with his bare hands. I was more interested in the detail on the other chain links, and fingered one absently.
Yeah, it was still a few thousand degrees, despite it being black. I noted it was coiled up on the ground, and the earth there was fused solid.
“I’ll ask for a Tempering treatment when done,” he said over his shoulder, and I just nodded.
“Master Burble will empower the Runes up and tie parts of itself to them as it does. Very good design.” He naturally wanted me to Bloodbind, Stone, Reed, and Harden the whole thing. “You have a Blackslake sample on you?” I asked. It was a smithing treatment effect, which I rarely had cause to use.
“Yeah.” He reached into the Masspack sitting off to the side, and pulled out a bottle.
I pointed at the shoggoth. “
Four eyes glanced at me, then focused on the glass jar. Two fine tendrils extended out, lifted it off Briggs’ hand, and unscrewed the lid dexterously. The tip of the tendril dipped inside it, and a strand of darkness zipped through it and into the shoggoth’s body.
It trembled, and a section of its body began to mutate and transform. Some ungodly organic engine swelled inside it, and began to exude drops of black goo into a containment sac inside itself. It even closed the jar and placed it back by the Masspack.
Even Briggs looked impressed at that. Able to become any required machine, indeed! This was like ultimate Weird Science, which fit their origins to a T.
“
“
This chain of a Spine was actually a Vivic item, which could be used to purify and refine away the madness and negative emotions instilled into the creature during its creation. That would effectively set it to Neutral, and allow it to make its own choices.
I wasn’t sure it had Free Will per se, but if it could overcome its programming/instincts, that had to count for something, didn’t it?
-HELP!-