“Lord Stoneblood!” shouted Eva. “Lady Kerys!”
She did the smart thing and extended an oar to pull them both aboard rather than trying to lean at an angle to use her hands. Kerys immediately began vomiting as soon as she rolled onto the small boat, and Ari felt like doing the same as soon as he was out of the water.
He pulled Eva into a fierce hug, and was in the middle of being distracted by their sudden turn of fortune when a clicking hiss came from behind him. He spun around in time to see a lurker pulling itself aboard and baring its disgusting jaws in Kerys’ attention.
Ari didn’t think. He hurled himself forward, tackling it over the edge of the boat. A wave struck them from the side at that exact moment, hurling him, the lurker, and the boat in different directions.
He kicked his legs and flailed his arms, trying to spot the boat’s silhouette again. Another wave hit him head on as he was taking a breath, knocking away both his attention and his consciousness. The black took him, even as he struggled against it.
INTERLUDE (MYTHRIL)
Mythril shifted the hood of his parka, trying to pull it closer in to his face to keep the cold from biting at the edges of his eyes. Snow was falling all around him in large, lazy flakes, though the precipitation in the air was much less of an issue than what had already fallen to the ground.
He was at the front of the party, with Rachel, Evastria, Diya, and a select few others of the dozen or so he’d originally brought with him following behind him in a single-file line. With the snow almost up to their waist, it was the only way to progress that made any sense.
“There,” said Rachel. “Lord Mythril, do you see it?”
She pulled up next to him, setting a slightly too familiar hand on his shoulder. Mythril had warned her about showing her affection for him more times than he could count. Though Evastria and Diya already knew of both Rachel’s tumultuous past as a rebel and her closeness to him, the rest of the guards and servants accompanying him assumed that she was no more than an unusually privileged slave.
“You mean that tower, in the distance?” asked Mythril.
Rachel nodded. “It’s not the workshop itself, but it’s near it. I think it was once a guard outpost built to keep watch over the nearby area.”
For the past three years, they’d been trying to reach the Nameless Enchanter’s workshop, and now they were a mere stone’s throw away from it. Most of the time had been spent waiting or occasionally assisting Emperor Horace in his war against the western rebels.
With the rebellion now confined to the southern reaches of the Cursed Coast, the journey had finally become a possibility for them to attempt without taking the risk of traversing contentious territory. Not that other aspects of their trip hadn’t been contentious.
“It just looks like an oddly shaped rock to me,” said Diya. “Was this truly worth abandoning our rune sleds for, Myth?”
“You know they’re useless in the snow,” he said.
Diya scowled, giving a derisive look that fell equally on Mythril, Rachel, and the surrounding snow.
“Let’s get closer,” said Mythril. “Rachel, you said the workshop was underground?”
Rachel nodded. “The entrance should be just past the tower, though it’s hard for me to remember exactly where. There was significantly less snow the last time I was here.”
“Trium bless this weather,” whispered Mythril. “Diya, can you take Evastria back to the others and let them know we’re moving the base camp?”
“You’re so sure then that we’ve found it?” asked Diya.
Mythril looked over at Rachel, who’d already begun kicking her way through the deep snow and examining the area more closely. She looked good, with strands of half-frozen brown hair hanging free from her hood and a beautiful expression of curiosity glittering in her eyes.
“I trust her,” he said. “This is what we’ve come to find.”
***
It took two hours for them to clear enough snow to reveal the way down into the workshop. Mythril had expected the rectangular hatch to need more coaxing, given the amount of ice around the edges, but a single hefty pull on its handles sent it sliding open.
The chamber the stairs led down into was dark but surprisingly warm. Mythril pulled his light wand out of his parka and illuminated the space, blinking in surprise at both the size of it and the pristine condition of much of what lay within.
The Nameless Enchanter’s workshop wasn’t that different from Mythril’s own, set apart mainly by the scale and ambition of the projects contained within. There was an ancient, rusted metal spider the height of a man that reminded him of a more brutal version of his own stone golems. A partially collapsed carriage in the old, wheeled style sat to the left-hand side of the chamber, pulled by a wheeled contraption in the place of the horses that had once been the height of transportation.
One invention stood out from the rest, both due to its complexity and prominent position within the room. It looked like a cage surrounding a pitted, metal core, and though rust had long since encrusted each of the indentations, Mythril was certain that they’d once been focal points for enchantment wards.
“Is this…?” began Mythril.
“Yes,” said Rachel. “A Soul Engine, though only a prototype, and never seen through to completion.”
She immediately made for it, pulling out a small notebook and scribbling as she walked in a slow circle. Diya brushed snow off his parka and began his own survey of the workshop, pausing in front of the metal spider.
“It’s all so old,” he said. “Can these enchantments truly be more advanced than your own work, Myth?”
“It’s no contest,” said Rachel. “The Nameless Enchanter was a genius.”
Her comment seemed to make Evastria bristle slightly, a pouty look spreading across her face. She was fourteen now and almost fully grown, though she still had a girlish face and slightly gawky proportions. That hadn’t seemed to matter much to the teenage boys back in the capital, many of whom had looked for ways to compete for the attention of the young, silver-haired beauty, to no avail.
“Mythril is a genius, too,” said Evastria. She’d also been drawn toward the Soul Engine and was tentatively reaching a hand out toward the one indentation that, for whatever reason, hadn’t accumulated rust to the same extent as the others.
Her finger drew within an inch of it. A tiny glimmer of light flickered through the ward.
“Evastria!” shouted Mythril, feeling a sudden, unshakable sense of wrongness.
“What?” Evastria pulled her hand back, blushing and frowning. “I just wanted to wipe it off…”
Mythril sighed. Rachel shook her head, looking visibly annoyed, a bit like Evastria’s private tutor when she stepped out of line.
“Evastria,” said Mythril. “Why don’t you head up the stairs and keep watch for the others?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” said Evastria with a pout.
“I’ll go, too,” said Diya. “We can work on some of the sword skills I’ve been teaching you.”
Evastria looked as though she was ready to protest further, but Diya set a hand on her shoulder and led her up the stairs before she could get a word in edgewise. The workshop was appreciably quieter with the two of them outside, and it gave Mythril the chance to notice something he’d missed before.
The wall along the back of the chamber had been converted into a writing slate. Much of it was in a language that Mythril didn’t recognize, and he knew it would need to be translated. Strangely, the numbers were the same as the ones the Saidicans used for their own calculations, and there was one section of the notes on the wall that looked familiar to him.
A simple chart of the night sky had been sketched with the sort of care that Mythril had assumed was reserved for paintings and fine calligraphy. He spotted Lumas, a larger sphere than some of the smaller dots, but was perplexed by a similarly sized object that had been carefully circled. There were numbers scribbled underneath as well i
n the format of a day and time.
“Rachel,” he said. “What is this?”
“Hmmm,” said Rachel. “I never really noticed it before. Just looks like a scribbled star chart.”
“Can you translate this date from their calendar into ours?” asked Mythril.
Rachel nodded. She mouthed the numbers as she silently read them, and then her face took on a look of concentration as she did the basic calculation in her head. Mythril always thought that was when she looked prettiest, with her brow furrowed and her eyes focused, lost in the paradise of her own intelligence.
She blinked and shook her head.
“I must have read the numbers wrong, or made a mistake…” she said.
“Why?” asked Mythril.
“The number I’m getting corresponds to the day after tomorrow,” said Rachel.
***
“This is pointless,” said Rachel. “We need to stay focused on what matters, Mythril.”
It was the night the star chart had depicted. Mythril stood atop the tower near the Nameless Enchanter’s workshop. The tower was a bit unusual in itself, and a cursory examination of the exterior wards had confirmed to him that it had been built for a purpose that had little to do with defense.
“The Nameless Enchanter would not have taken the time to write that date down if it didn’t mean something,” said Mythril. “He was a genius, as you said.”
“A genius oft prone to distraction,” said Rachel. “That’s what this is, compared to the Soul Engine. You were there for the test this afternoon. I know you understand the implications of what we did.”
Mythril looked over at her. It was warmer than when they’d first arrived but still cold enough for the snow to remain frozen, though they’d cleared much of it out from the tower and the area surrounding the workshop over the course of the past few days. Rachel had her hood down and her parka partially unzipped, a combination that drew his attention to her beautiful brown hair and flawless skin.
“We played with the soul of a half-starved rat,” said Mythril. “It’s not the proof of concept that you seem to think it is.”
“It came back to life, Mythril,” said Rachel. ‘If the Soul Engine prototype can do that to a small animal, think of what a larger version of the same machine could do to a person.”
“It was barely functioning after we brought it back,” said Mythril. “It was like it was stuck in a loop, unsure of where it was or what it needed to do.”
“That’s why I need your help restoring those enchantments.” Rachel came closer to him, squeezing her hand against his. “It’s why I sought you out in the first place.”
“Your reasoning, when you first explained it to me, was that this machine could change the realm,” said Mythril. “End the war without bloodshed. But it seems the war is already coming to an end. Should we not slow down and think about what we’re doing?”
Rachel didn’t say anything. Mythril let out a small sigh and turned his head back up to the sky. They still had a few minutes until whatever the Nameless Enchanter had noted would be visible in the sky. It was cold outside, and he felt a small flush of excitement as Rachel drew closer to him.
“You know,” said Mythril, “this is the first time we’ve been truly alone since we’ve set out on the expedition.”
He glanced at Rachel, noting the coy smile on her face that suggested her thoughts had been moving in a similar direction.
“Your niece is to blame for that,” said Rachel. “You’d think at fourteen that she’d be a bit more understanding of these sorts of things. Though I wonder if her habit comes from her ignorance of adult relationships, or the general suspicion she has for me.”
“She still isn’t used to you yet,” said Mythril. “Give her some more time.”
He pulled Rachel to stand in front of him, letting his hands slide inside her parka. She tensed as he snuck his fingers further under the fabric, touching her breasts.
“Your hands are cold,” she whispered.
“Then where should I put them to warm them up?” asked Mythril.
He kissed her neck and started moving against her. Their thick winter clothing prevented him from feeling much, but it really had been a while since they’d had a chance to be intimate. Mythril felt himself getting aroused as though he was a teenager again.
The tower had a stone parapet which he leaned Rachel forward against. She was shivering as he pulled her winter pants down, along with the tights underneath, only sliding them low enough to free the parts of her he planned on using. Mythril could see goosebumps on her buttocks, which he gave a gentle caress, followed by a soft squeeze.
“Another part of me has gotten cold,” he whispered. “I’m going to have to put it somewhere to warm it up.”
He pulled his own layers down and freed his cock, which was rock hard even in the face of the weather. Rachel let out a small, shivering breath, followed by a tiny, high-pitched moan as he pushed forward into her.
She was wet, but the winter wind had left her tighter than she would have normally been. Mythril was slow with his thrusting at first, repositioning her against the parapet so that all of the exposed parts of her body were out of contact with the frozen stone.
The contrast of the cold against the warmth of her body made the pleasure of being inside her twice as intense as it normally would have been. Rachel was moaning through her chattering teeth, and Mythril sped up a little, squeezing her breasts harder as he plunged into her from behind.
“Some men would look at you and think of nothing more than doing this,” he whispered. “Touching these.”
He let his fingers trace over her nipples.
“I’m more than just my body,” said Rachel. “But I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”
Mythril thrust faster, caring less about the snow and how cumbersome it was to engage in the pursuit of passion while so heavily clothed.
“Of course,” said Mythril. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your… physical assets.”
“How romantic,” she said, in a breathy voice.
“You are my slave, Rachel.” Mythril pawed at her a little more aggressively. “You’ll have to forgive me for occasionally treating you like one during the heat of the moment.”
“Oh!” gasped Rachel. “I—am no man’s—ah—”
She never got the last word out. Mythril leaned forward, pinning her against the parapet. He knew he was being a little mean as some of her bare flesh made contact with the stone. He didn’t care. He thrust into her hard, intent on finding his long-overdue release.
Rachel whimpered and gasped, the combination of which stirred a heat within Mythril’s loins that very nearly banished the winter chill. He felt her shudder, and knew this time that it wasn’t from the weather.
Mythril squeezed her butt in his hands as he pushed as deep as he could go on the final thrust, unloading into her and experiencing an orgasm that left him twitching on his feet. The moment only lasted for a couple of blissful seconds before the cold became impossible to ignore, spoiling the lion’s share of their afterglow.
He’d just finished pulling his clothes back on when it began. Mythril looked up at the sky and blinked several times, focusing his eyes on a small celestial object that he was quite certain he’d never seen before.
It was bluish-green, about the size of a star but far brighter. Rachel raised an eyebrow when she saw his face and then followed his gaze to the same spot in the night sky.
“What… is that?” she whispered.
“If I had to guess, I would say that it’s what the Nameless Enchanter predicted,” said Mythril.
Over the course of the next hour, the object slowly drew closer, expanding in relative size until it was only slightly smaller than Lumas. The second moon was a mixture of deep blue and teal in color, though like Lumas, only about three quarters of it was visible, given the time of month.
“Unbelievable,” muttered Mythril. “What does this mean?”
Rachel didn’t answer his question. She didn’t get a chance to. Something streaked loose from the new moon, leaving a thread-thin orange line of energy across the night sky as it sailed downward. It was harder to make out the details of this object, though the colors left in its wake were easily visible.
It fell all the way down until it was perhaps a few hundred miles above them, rather than the inconceivable distances that celestial objects existed at. Mythril watched in dumb silence as it streaked across the sky overhead, losing altitude and falling over the horizon in the direction of the western ocean.
Nothing happened for a few minutes. Both he and Rachel were completely lost in their own thoughts, which wasn’t all that uncommon, given the oftentimes cerebral nature of their relationship.
“Mythril,” whispered Rachel. “What just happened?”
Mythril shook his head. “I don’t know. Trium blessed… I just don’t know.”
CHAPTER 38
A crab woke Ari up. He’d been able to ignore the grittiness of the sand against the back of his neck, the cold waves licking against the side of his arm, and the sun’s oppressive presence, but the sensation of the tiny crustacean’s legs scuttling over his cheek was too much.
He sat up quicker than he should have, feeling a sudden surge of sickness and vertigo that made him suspect that he’d swallowed a fair bit of seawater. It also reminded him a little of the way he’d felt immediately after having his soul essence reduced, which brought his thoughts back around to the fact that he was still dying, despite having just dodged death.
Ari forced himself to his feet, glaring at the nearby surf and the wall of trees and jungle further up the beach. He was sick of it. Sick of surviving. Sick of loss. Sick of the weather and the monsters knocking his feet out from under him, time and time again.
He was so frustrated that he felt like screaming, and he tried to, but a single utterance came out in place of his rage.
Vision Voyage (The Weatherblight Saga Book 2) Page 23
