Chains of Loss (13 page)

“Uhm.”  Lydia frowned and pushed her way out of the hug.  The serving girl was blushing furiously.  “Just some…favors.  That’s all.”

“What kind?”

“Not important.  But, there’s more you should know.  We should get back on topic.  Where were we?”

“Sex.”

“No, no, I mean before.”

“That was the topic.”

“No—I—”  Kailyn paused, and her blush deepened.  “Shit.  You’re right.  Well, it is an important topic.  As far as we’re concerned, what you do with other members of the house is your business as long as everyone involved is consenting.”

“Do bets count?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, nobody would
really
bet that.”

Lydia smirked, tears still on her face.  She cocked an eyebrow.

“Quiet, you!  Anyway, the reason the topic’s important is because it’s a security problem we don’t want to deal with.  Anyone who doesn’t work
right here
is off-limits.  We have no way to be sure that they’re not a spy.  We also don’t have the resources we’d need to guarantee their safety, and a lover is the perfect potential hostage.  If you’re going to try to romance someone, keep it inside the compound.  Everyone here’s already safe.”

“Just, keep an eye on the dealer if he’s wearing long sleeves?”

“Give it a rest!”

“Is that why it’s called p—”

“Finish that joke and I
will
slap you.  I swear!”

“Or do you prefer stud?”

Kailyn tried to glare, but her grin cracked through.  “All right, you’re pretty good with innuendo.”

“You started it.”

“When?”

“The whole ‘subservient pillow slave’ act.”

“What act?”

Lydia fought a blush of her own.  “You’re joking.”

“Is that a bet?”

Lydia’s mouth worked open and closed but no sound came out.  She settled on shaking her head and trying to keep her mouth shut.

“So.  Let’s see, where was I?  Most of us are infertile; age regression doesn’t appear to fix that, but don’t count on it.  If you do get pregnant and decide to give birth, the child will be taken care of.  You will stay; it will go.  You will not see it again; if you visited, you would put it in danger.

“And one more thing.  Don’t set your sights on m’Lord or Michael.  They’re not looking – not right now, at least, and if they ever do, I have dibs.”  She winked.

Lydia pondered a moment.  “And Styx?”  She could only hold a serious expression for a few seconds before they both succumbed to laughter.

“Good God,” Kailyn wheezed.  “Who would…I mean, maybe he does like…oh, I have no idea and I don’t have the guts to try.  Who knows?  Maybe he’s really gorgeous and fathered a dozen bastards in his off hours.”

Lydia spouted out a usually-ominous rumor.  “No door can stop him!” 

“That explains it!  Jealous husbands and fathers taught him how to sneak around!”  Kailyn affectionately slapped Lydia on the shoulder.  “Welcome to the family, birdie.  So, howsabout some breakfast?”

***

Friday, October 27, 3481.

Time: Morning. 

Location: City of Rashraan.  Capitol of Overarchy.  Located on Worldsedge.

Gorti drew his hood low as he approached the Temple of Celestial Luminance.  The sight of it was forbidden to him – even through the goggles.  Instead, he kept his eyes on the familiar cobblestones, using them to navigate the streets of Rashraan. 

             
Conversation died as he approached.  Citizens and slaves alike shied away from his path.  Some saluted.  Others grumbled prayers of protection.  Most sighed in relief when he moved on; he had often wondered if they even suspected how clearly he could hear them. 

             
The rebirth-of-light ceremony couldn’t come fast enough for him.  It would be the close of the fifth year since the bargain had been struck and he had been filled with the powers of darkness.  They already had his replacement ready; another young gnokla warrior who would serve his people as their most feared protector for five more years.  He’d almost retired early, yesterday. 

A line of buyers stepped out of his way as he followed his nose to a butcher, who wordlessly handed over a fresh, bloody heart.  He ate as he went.  The blessing of cooked food, like all of fire’s comforts, was denied to the Reaver.  Just for another two months. 

The tough meat gave ample opportunity to exercise his tusks, though.  The violent, tearing action gave him an outlet for his frustration. 

He had
had
the demons.  The pair could have been none other.  He’d followed the tracks from the crater, lost them at multiple rivers, but finally tracked them down.  Finding them during the day had been an unrivaled opportunity; though he was weakest then, so were they – and their guard had been down.  It had taken him several minutes before he’d been sure that one was male and the other was female; until that point, he hadn’t known for certain that they were his nemeses.  He’d known Droluch to be the greater danger, so he’d targeted her first.  He’d been careful not to use any sorcery against Drotak.  He’d detected
nothing
– not even the tiniest trace of a conjuration – when Drotak had deflected his shots.

But the demon had survived, and, since they’d probably gone for cover, Droluch had recovered by now.  The opportunity of a lifetime, the potential crowning moment of his tenure, had slipped away. 

A particularly vicious bite tore the heart in half.  Why had Drotak let him live?  He wasn’t coming to an answer.  Was his opponent mocking him?  Gorti had spent years tracking Drotak, and it had been the first time that they had actually faced each other in combat.  To strike him down, poke him in the mouth, and leave with such contempt…! 

He had to go out again.  The star had sung to Gorti – to every member of his race – as it had fallen.  The song alone had proven the other races’ lies.  Fallen stars were not mere chunks of rock, but living servants of the Sunlord.  It had called to His mortal servants; surely it had come to bring them glory in His name...but when they’d arrived, it had been silenced. 

Gorti feared that he knew exactly what had happened.  Drotak had stolen the star’s song, stolen its
soul
. 

He knew it still lived.  In the depths of the darkness, when the stars fought hardest against hordes of the Nothing, he’d lost the trail.  The pair had lost him in another stream and for a good deal of time Gorti had been going in exactly the wrong direction.  It had sung to him again then, drawing him back to the trail and calling him to its rescue.  He had to go back; he
had
to rescue it.

He swallowed the last of the meat, then rinsed his hands and face in one of the Chained Pools.  He muttered the Oath of Binding over the water, praying that it would never break free, then moved on, planning.

It would be hours before he could return to the hunt.  He’d try to pick up their trail from the battle site if nobody else had spoiled it, but it would be nightfall at the soonest before he could run back there. 

Probably later.  The bureaucracy involved in getting a new crossbow was already giving him a headache and he hadn’t even started the process.  Just two more months, he repeated.  Two more months and he would pass on the power of the Reaver and forfeit his life to the Lord of Darkness. 

He could hardly wait.

***

Friday, October 27, 3481.

Time: Midday. 

Location: Wilderness, claimed by Overarchy. South of Worldsedge.

Mycah didn’t know why Derek was so quiet that day, but at first she welcomed the respite.  His questions had revealed to her how little she really knew about magical theory.  Well, she had good reason for that, but it was a reason she couldn’t share with him. 

As midday approached, his silence began to worry her.  She started glancing back at him, making sure he was there.  He smiled at her when she did so, but there was something guarded in his eyes – eyes that had been so open the day before.  It was during one of those backward glances that she felt a sudden tightness on her right arm and heard a tremendous crashing noise.  She had accidentally shouldered over a tree.

She stopped in her tracks, staring.  She’d rammed her right shoulder straight into it and snapped the trunk.  She lifted her arm.  It was unhurt.  The vest had extended down to her elbow, but retracted as she watched.  She sighed and turned back to Derek.

“What was that?”

He was fighting a smile.  “I was going to ask the same thing…that was an accident, wasn’t it?”

“No shit.”  She looked at the tree again.  It wasn’t a
large
tree, but it looked solid.  “Okay.  Did I just do that?”

“Yes.”

“More to the point,
how
did I just do that?  I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re wearing a power suit.  It’s very strong, and it does what you do.”

Mycah formed a fist.  The vest grew a sleeve again, flowing down to cover her hand.  “I see…”  She swung her clenched fist at the tree trunk with moderate force.  There was a soft thunk, but the wood was undamaged.  She hadn’t even felt the impact. 

She punched again, this time as hard as she could.  The wood shattered in an explosion of splinters, tearing at her flesh.  Blood started to stream down her face; she wasn’t sure that she’d shut her eyes fast enough.

Derek’s hands were on her, and he was once again whispering comforting words.  “It’s okay, I’m here.  You’re going to be okay…just hold still and let me look.”  That wondrous cloth dabbed at her face, and the pain subsided.  “Just keep your eyes closed.  It’ll be just fine.  There.  That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

The pain was gone, and she opened her eyes.  The tree had been disintegrated.  “Power suit?”

“Power suit.  Used right, it’ll protect you from shrapnel, but in its current form it can’t really protect your face quickly enough.  It’s because it has to go upwards, really, and it's not smart enough to know when it'll need to.”

Mycah considered this.  “You can form it whatever way you want, right?”

“Sure.”

“How about a hat, then?  Or a headband?”

This time, she could feel a definite weight as the armor moved into place.  Derek smiled.  “That should do it.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“It’s complicated.  There’s things you’re supposed to have that we can’t get-”  He broke off but resumed immediately.  “Things that would be…awkward for you.  It’ll take some explanation.”

“And the Chimera is dangerous.”

“What?”

She shrugged.  “Everything you’ve done has required you to explain.  I expect it by now.”  She cocked her head to the side.  “You said you weren’t used to talking.  I think you’ve learned to like the sound of your voice.”

“What’s the Chimera?”

“Something very dangerous, but no changing the subject.  Explanation.”

“Okay.  There’s things that a human just can’t do.  Do you think you could hit a rock hard enough to crack it without shattering it?”

“You mean, with this armor?”  She raised a fist.

“Yes.”

She shook her head.  There hadn’t seemed to be a middle ground.

“I could, but I’ve had something that you haven’t.”

“And that is?”

“Back home, we call it a Shadow.  Everyone has one.”  He swallowed; for a moment it looked like he was fighting tears.  “It’s a – a mind, effectively.  A friend.  It lives in a cyborg’s implants and takes care of things.  It helps out its caster whenever it can.” 

Mycah hesitated only for a moment before deciding she wouldn’t understand unless he demonstrated.  “So.  I need a Shadow?”

“Yes.  But I don’t have what I’d need to give you your own - not a proper, socialized one.  You’re an adult.  If we gave you a new Shadow, it would be an infant.”

“So there’s another option, right?  You didn’t just tell me this to let me know that you couldn’t help me?”

“Right.  You can’t get your own Shadow, but…I might be able to share.”

***

Derek would have been shocked by how readily she had agreed, if anything about this world shocked him anymore.  Sharing a Shadow was worse than being naked in front of each other – but given the circumstances, it was probably their best option. 

He opened up the templates and started from the base of template two.  He adjusted the payload, supplementing the passive sensors with transmitters and narrow-beam communicators.  He ran the numbers six times to make sure, braced himself, then launched the drone.

When it reached maximum height, it unfurled itself into a web, spreading out its sensors for greater resolution as it aimed back towards where his journey had begun. 

The craft wasn’t there anymore; somehow, the orcs had managed to lift it from the crater and onto skids.  They’d cleared the forest in their path, and had moved the ship nearly a full kilometer.