After helping the elves find a place to make camp as well as set up a camp for our friends from Spurhorn, I went into our personal chambers and peeked in on Greta. She was sleeping, but Zorka informed me, quite annoyed, that Greta had woken a few times and demanded food. So that was a good sign. I’d check in on her again in a bit.
But first, I had some work to do. “Terry,” I said, “Has you scroll arrived?”
Terry was clutching a scroll tube to his chest like one might hold a precious child. “Yes.”
“Did the raven come back with it?”
“Yeah, it’s over on the table.” I went over and gave the raven my order and a sack of coins. It flapped its wings and disappeared with a pop. “What’s that for?” Terry asked.
“I want to learn a few new spells, so I’m ordering a few scrolls of my own. One of them should help us make whatever corpse you use for your new body look at least passably close to your old body.”
“That could be helpful,” he said.
“Yeah, I figure it’ll be best for Emily if you look like you when she wakes up.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, looking at me. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“So, how’s your wolf-lady?”
“Greta’s doing better, but she’s sleeping right now. I was thinking of going and laying down myself.”
“Yeah, it’s been a long day. Go on.”
“Keep an eye on Gregor for me?” I asked. “He was showing off to the elves when I left. Wouldn’t want them to get into a fight or something. Might start an interplanetary diplomatic incident.”
“Can do. What about Burin?”
“He’ll be fine. At worst, he’ll reveal too much information about us. We’ll live.”
Terry snorted a laugh. “He’s probably telling the elf chick that the natives are afraid of torches as we speak.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I went back to my room and sat down next to Greta. I ran my fingers through her hair gently, causing her to sigh softly. She still looked battered, but she really did look better than she had when I left. Tired, I stripped and carefully climbed into bed next to her, gently pulling the blanket up over us. I could feel the warmth of her body on my back as I drifted off.
That night, I dreamt of thunderclouds. A great storm was brewing. But there was something familiar about this dream. I’d had dreams like it when I was learning to fully awaken the power in my blood. Then, it had been like a small, crackling fire. I’d dreamt of sparks, and embers. Now, it was a raging storm.
What did it mean? And should I worry that I when I woke, I could still feel the soft rumbling of distant thunder throughout my body?
I didn’t have much time to think about it, as I was woken with a kiss that turned into a second, and a third. And then Greta held me tightly to her chest, and we spoke, and cried, and then she had exhausted herself and fell back asleep.
I just laid there, stroking her hair and thinking about nothing. After maybe half of an hour, she woke again with a start, terrified that I wouldn’t be there. I held her and reassured her that while I had things to do later, I was going to be there for her, and she fell asleep again.
Seeing her like that renewed a desire that burned in me. Typhon Lee was going to pay for what he’d done to her. We were getting stronger by the day, and one day he would die, and he would die screaming. And if Terry didn’t do a good enough job, I would resurrect him and kill him again. Or maybe Godmother would be willing to trap his mind in an eternal nightmare or something as justice for all the people he’s hurt.
I don’t know if it would even be the right thing to do. Even considering it, I wasn’t sure I felt right passing judgment on him like that. I have no problem just killing him, of course. He’s a danger to me and those I love, and as such, he needed to die. And I wanted him to suffer for what he’s done, but was it right to actually inflict it? Was it me?
I wasn’t sure. How could I be?
In the morning, I helped Greta dress and we went together to go eat. Terry and Gregor were at the table already. Terry was feeding some kind of meat to the eagle’s non-dominant head while Gregor was feeding the other head.
“I am telling you,” Gregor was saying. “We should let them fight. It makes them stronger.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t like Bee,” Terry said. “That’s okay, Bee,” Terry then said to the eagle, his voice doing that thing you do when talking to children or pets. “I won’t let mean old Gregor let you starve.”
“How can it starve?!” Gregor asked. “They are same animal. All food goes to same stomach.”
“You don’t know that,” Terry pouted.
“Boys, when you’re done playing, someone should wake up Burin,” I said.
“He’s already up,” Terry responded. “He went to invite the elves to join us for breakfast.”
“Elves?” Greta asked. “I thought you said we were on another world.”
“There are elves on many worlds,” I explained. “I don’t even think the ones on Golarion came from Golarion originally.”
“Then they are invaders,” Greta said with a growl.
I helped her sit. “Perhaps, but you can worry about them later. It seems the hut has given us some fish soup and blini for breakfast.”
“Blini?” Terry asked. “What are blini?”
“Those pancakes you’re eating.”
“Oh. Those are really good with that syrup,” Terry said, grabbing another bite for himself.
Burin returned a few moments later. “The elves declined after I mentioned the soup,” he said. “I don’t think elves like meat.”
“That is not what I heard,” Gregor said, his voice dripping with innuendo that I’m certain Burin missed. I gave him a bemused look. “What? All I am saying is that there was elf at monastery who was rumored to very much like sausage.”
“Oh, well maybe they just don’t like fish,” Burin said, grabbing a seat as the joke flew right over his head.
“What about Bescaylie and the others?” I asked.
“Oh, they went out scouting about an hour ago. They should be back in a bit.”
Terry turned to Greta. “I’m curious. How did Typhon find you?”
“He was already in the air when we parted. He saw Lyriana leave me, but the hut was gone before he had a chance to reach it. So he came after me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking ashamedly into my bowl of soup.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, wincing as she reached over with her remaining arm to wipe the tear from my eye. “I would not have chosen to stand with them even without you. You do not go against Baba Yaga. If you do, you lose, no matter how powerful you are. Besides, she’s been good to my people.”
She then tried to take a bite of her soup, but dropped the spoon. It landed on the floor and bounced over near Gregor. “Need a hand?” he asked, reaching down and grabbing it for her. I glared at him.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Zorka appeared, broom in hand, swinging right at Terry’s head. Terry deftly fell backwards in his chair, towards the kikimora, and rolled, ending up behind her and kicking her in the butt in retaliation.
“Hey!” Terry said. “What was that for?!”
“Stolen it!” Zorka screeched, swinging again. Terry caught the end before it could hit him.
“Stolen what?” Gregor asked.
“The hut’s controls!”
“What controls?” Gregor asked.
“The egg and bowl?” I asked.
“YES!” Zorka shrieked as she struggled to pull the broom from Terry’s grasp. “Your friends have taken it, and are trying to flee!”
“Bescaylie wouldn’t do that,” Burin said.
“Burin…” I said, my head hurting already.
“What?”
“Didn’t you say Bescaylie and the others were scouting?”
“Yes, that’s right!” He turned to Zorka. “See, how could our friends have stolen it if they aren’t here?”
“Burin…” I said again, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“What?”
“She means the elves.”
“Oh. OH!” he said, realization dawning. “But they aren’t our friends. They’re our guests, at best.” I saw a thought dawn on him in real time. “Wait. You don’t think they’re trying to eat the egg because they don’t like fish, do you?” He rushed to the door. “We have to stop them, before they hurt themselves!”
“Is he always like this?” Greta asked after Burin had rushed out of the door, Gregor just behind.
“No,” I said. “Sometimes he’s worse.”
Greta laughed, wincing at the pain in her ribs. “I think I got off easy, only being stuck with Typhon and his torturers.”
“And if Baba Yaga doesn’t help me,” Terry said, looking crestfallen, “I’ll be stuck with him forever…”
“That’s enough self-pity for now,” I said. “We need to go after them.”
“I’ll be fine,” Greta said. “Go.”
“Why is it always me?” Terry asked Zorka, before we left. “Why do you always try to hit me?” Zorka, for her part, just seemed perplexed by the question.
“We have to move,” I said.
“Right,” Terry agreed. “And if they are trying to steal the hut, I vote that we let the hut eat them. It’s only fair.”
“Noted,” I said
Gregor was already checking tracks outside when we arrived. “This way,” he said, pointing off in the direction of the pens where Baba Yaga kept her more dangerous plants.
We arrived to find the elves standing by the gate of one of the pens. “Look, we’ll give you one chance to explain just what you think you’re doing before we murder you,” Terry shouted over to them.
“You should give the egg back,” Burin said. “It’s not for eating.”
“Besides,” Terry said. “Even if you know what it is, only black riders can use it anyway. So give it back before I’m forced to get angry.”
Jalathal did not seem impressed by Terry’s threat. “Go, children of the land! Kill these humans!” the elven diplomat shouted.
The assassin vines immediately grabbed the nearest elf. With the door to the pen between them and the diplomat, that meant it was one of her bodyguards. The poor man screamed as they murdered him while the other bodyguards attempted unsuccessfully to intervene.
“They’re idiots,” Terry said with a pained laugh. “Complete idiots.”
“It does seem as such,” Gregor agreed, pulling out his flask and taking a drink. He made a surprised face, then handed it to Burin.
“Maybe if the get the fighting out of their systems, it might motivate them to be cooperative?” Burin suggested before taking a swig of his own. “Whoa, that stuff has a bit of a kick now,” he said, passing the flask back.
After slamming the gate shut, the elves turned to face us, weapons ready. Gregor teleported behind the front line, laying out Jalathal with a single punch and Burin charged forward, axe in hand. “Sorry, we tried,” the dwarf said as he charged. “But you’ve made your bed and now you have to sleep in it.”
The elven bodyguards chanted in unison, unleashing a pair of fireballs at the three of us in front of them. They would have had a third, but Burin’s axe slammed into the third bodyguard’s armor and jolted him out of concentration. Terry fired rounds at each of them, hoping to prevent any further casting, but only wounding them before his gun jammed and he had to clear it.
Opparal, Jalathal’s second-in-command, whipped out a holy symbol of Asmodeus – I’ll be honest, I didn’t see that one coming – and quickly chanted a prayer, hitting the three of us already singed by fireballs with a pillar of unholy flame.
All this flame was going to be murder on my hair. So, annoyed, I unleashed a fireball of my own, which may have spooked Lornalis, the third member of the elven party, into making a mistake while he tried to stab Gregor, which resulted in a complete miss, causing Gregor to laugh as he hit the elf, causing his head to snap back at an incredibly unnatural angle before his body collapsed to the ground.
Burin spun with his axe, hitting two of the remaining guards. “This fight’s over!” Terry shouted. “Lower your weapons!”
I’ll say one thing for the bodyguards. They’re dedicated to their duties. Outnumbered and outmatched, the remaining bodyguard conjured a lightning bolt, managing to just strike a couple of us with it. As if the fire wasn’t going to mess up my hair enough on its own.
Injured, Terry drew the nanite gun and immediately injected himself while Opparal conjured a wall of flame directly on top of Burin, probably hoping to bring down the dwarf and leave Gregor alone against two foes.
His only mistake was forgetting that I could fly. So I shot up into the air and dropped the remaining bodyguard with a couple force bolts. Gregor laughed menacingly. “You’re all alone, cleric,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “This is going to hurt a lot.” He then unleashed a flurry of kicks that sent the elf tumbling to the ground, unconscious.
Well, okay, so Opparal made two mistakes. The second was thinking that something as weak as a wall of flame would be anywhere enough to kill Burin. That dwarf has been inside much worse things than a bit of fire. He simply walked right out of it and over to Gregor.
We tied up the survivors. “Should we interrogate them?” I asked.
“No point,” Terry said. “It would be a kindness to slit their throats and let them die peacefully.”
“No, we have no need to kill them,” Burin said. “We’ll just dump them outside of the hut and let them fend for themselves.”
“Oh, I see,” Terry said. “After we rob them.” Burin gave him a look. “What? They tried to kill us. It’s only fair.”
Burin looked at me questioningly. “He has a point. We won’t take anything that they need to survive, but they have some pretty nice equipment. We should definitely take their ioun stones. I’d bet we can find a use for them.”
We took their valuables and carried the bodies outside, finally dragging the two survivors out last. “Please wake them,” Burin requested. Terry injected both of them with nanites, healing their wounds a bit. The elves looked at us in shock. Burin got down in Jalathal’s face. “Your friends are dead.”
“We gave you a chance,” Gregor added.
“They died because of you,” Burin continued.
“But they live on, inside of you.” I’m not entirely certain, but I think that the two might have been doing bad cop, good cop.
Burin cut Jalathal’s bonds, then slammed a short handled shovel into the dirt next to her. “Sorry for your loss.” I went inside first and prepared the hut for departure. From inside, I could see the elven diplomat still gaping at us as the hut stood and began walking off.
We traveled for most of the day, with Bescaylie and the others scouting for us. Burin and Terry ended up going up with them to get a good read on the land. Mostly it was just Terry who wanted to go, but that meant Burin had to go along with him.
That night, I taught the others about their ioun stones and how to use them. Burin was pretty excited to now be able to understand every language, but not nearly as excited as Terry. “Yo!” said an adult man sitting at the breakfast table the next morning.
Only, the man said it in the squeaky voice of a thirteen year old girl. It was absolutely adorable. “So, is this what your old body looked like?” I asked, easily seeing through the illusion.
“Yes,” Terry said, trying his best to deepen his voice and failing miserably.
“Cool. Let me take a few pictures for reference, that way I can get you approximately right when I sculpt whatever corpse we put you in later.”
As I was taking pictures, Burin and Gregor came in and immediately began messing with the image. Burin tried to rustle Terry’s hair, while Gregor repeatedly punched the illusory face, his hand going well over the real Terry’s head.
“So,” I said once we were done messing with the poor man. “What is our plan as far as getting in?”
Bescaylie, who had joined us, spoke up. “We’ve already taken a look at Ivoryglass. Fighting your way in would be suicide.”
“Well, the elves said that they had entered as diplomats. Maybe we can pretend to be the same?” I asked.
“What? We’re still talking about this? We’re gonna what, just walk up to the door and say, ‘We’re Baba Yaga’s Black Riders and we’ve come to seek an audience with the great warlord Yrax on behalf of our mistress’?” Terry asked sarcastically, giving Burin a pointed look as he said it.
“Why not?” Burin asked in response.
“Because it’s idiotic,” Terry said.
“No, it could work,” Gregor added. “But we would need gift. Elves said they were turned away because their gift was not, what is word, exotic enough.”
“Like I said, just use me,” Burin said.
We had Cortana, so that wouldn’t be a problem getting a gift. But what to give a megalomaniacal dragon with a taste for the exotic? What would Daddy do? Then it came to me.
“A statue!” I said.
“A statue? Would that be exotic enough?” Gregor asked.
“Maybe,” I said. I pulled out my folding makeup mirror from my bag. “Bescaylie, have you ever seen a material like this before?” I asked, indicating the outside.
“I… no, I don’t think I have. What is it?” the dragon rider asked.
“It’s called plastic. My people use it for everything, from furniture, to clothing to even things like knives and bombs.”
Terry’s eyes lit up when I said that. “Bombs? So, we could make the whole statue into a bomb?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “That stuff is probably pretty expensive, and I was thinking we make a really big statue. Bigger than us.” I figured Cortana could make the pieces and we could assemble them.
Terry thought for a moment. “What about putting a smaller bomb inside the statue? Would that work? I’m guessing it might be hard to light, though.”
“Oh, that part’s easy,” I said. “We stick a detonator on it and then you can activate it with your phone.”
“Let’s do that!” Terry said. “And if we have to fight the dragon, maybe we can even blow him up before he eats Burin.”
Burin just sighed.
“If?” Gregor asked, clearly thinking about adding another skin to his collection.
So that was the plan. For the rest of the morning, we assembled a statue, carefully placing a bomb inside the center of the statue’s focus, the giant white dragon flying over the terrified Triaxians. Then we loaded it on a cart and drove the hut to the outskirts of the grounds where Ivoryglass was located, set down, and walked out with Gregor pulling and Burin pushing the cart, all in plain view of the defenders.
They watched us warily, but no one moved to intercept us. Going with a gift big enough to be seen from the walls was definitely a good choice. Even the dragonkin guards at the wall seemed less than fully prepared for a fight, as though things like this were routine for them.
“What is it?” he asked, gruff but cordial.
I put on a haughty voice. “We are emissaries from the great witch Baba Yaga. Our mistress wishes to discuss the possibility of an alliance between herself and the mighty warlord Yrax.”
“And what is that?” the dragon asked, indicating the statue.
“That is a gift, a statue made of a material only found on the home world of the great witch herself.”
“It’s very detailed,” the guard said, inspecting the statue. “What is this creature in his claw?”
I looked. “Oh, that’s a cow. It’s a creature used for meat by people on several worlds.”
The dragonkin laughed. “I’m sure the boss will love it. Alright, I’ll show you to some quarters. It will probably be a couple of days before Yrax will meet with you, since he’s busy with the war, so we’ll try to make you comfortable until then.” He then turned to the other. “Have some slaves wheel that thing into the audience chamber and let Yrax know he has visitors.”
As we followed the dragonkin inside, Burin spoke up. “Aren’t you going to take our weapons?” Gregor had to restrain Terry, who looked like he was ready to strangle the dwarf.
“Nah,” the guard said. “Four of you small things are no real danger to Yrax. Worst case scenario, you kill a couple guards before we put you down, and the guys on the inside are all a bunch of dicks, though you didn’t hear that from me.”
The building itself was massive, which made sense since it was a fortress for dragons. And it was made of magically hardened ice, not unlike the chainmail that Burin wore. Which would have been cold to normal people, but again, dragons.
Mostly, I was just curious what would happen when summer came. Was the magic strong enough to keep the place intact, or did they have to rebuild it every couple hundred years? Or was it a new structure, built for the first time this winter?
I was curious, but I didn’t want to interrupt the guard, who was having a friendly conversation with the boys. “Anyway,” he was saying. “Unfortunately, our normal diplomatic quarters are occupied, so I’m going to have to put you in here. These technically belong to Yrax’s pet battleflower, but she doesn’t like them and sleeps closer to the arena, so I’m sure she won’t bother you. We’ll have someone send food to you at meal times, and you’re welcome to visit both the shrine or the library, but aside from that, I have to ask you to refrain from wandering around. Yrax will not take it well if you’re found elsewhere.”
“And that could jeopardize our alliance,” I finished his thought.
“Exactly. Anyway, make yourselves comfortable, and good luck on your negotiations.”
“Where exactly are the library and shrine, anyway?” Burin asked.
“If you go down this hallway until the fork, the shrine will be on the left. If you continue down the path that’s closest to the straight path, the library will be on the left a bit down.”
We went into the quarters, which were massive, lavish and comfortable. In fact, they were almost as big as my room back home, though they didn’t have nearly as many pillows as I did. So I win.
“I like that guy,” Terry said, using the voice he’d been practicing while wearing the illusion. “Hope we don’t have to kill him. So, what should we do first?”
“Well, if we’re allowed to go to the shrine and library, maybe we should see what’s in there first,” Burin suggested.
“It’ll kill time until nightfall,” I agreed.
“And then, after dark, we hunt,” Gregor said.
We went the library first. Like everything else in the fortress, it was massive. The books themselves were almost as big as we were and they mostly seemed to be about history and strategy. The history part was a good read, I learned a little bit about the history of this world, but the books were obviously biased, heaping praise after praise on the world’s dragon overlords.
Actually, there was one book that was normal sized in the library. I spotted Terry thumbing through it. Suddenly, twitched, dropped the book and curled up into a fetal position. It was so bad that the illusion of adult Terry actually began flickering. “Are you okay?” Burin asked, trying to help Terry.
“Everything smells like rotting fish!” Terry wailed. Just what the hell was in that book? I walked over and picked it up.
And it was in English. What on Earth – or Triaxus, for that matter – was going on here? I closed the book and looked at the title. “Dagon, by H.P. Lovecraft,” I read aloud. I’d seen that name before, on another book Terry had found. But why was it here? And what had it done to Terry? I would have to read it later to see what I could learn.
Gregor took the book from my hand. “It’s bound in fish scales,” he noted.
I hadn’t noticed that. “Weird.” I sniffed the book, but didn’t notice any strange scent.
By the time Gregor handed it back, Terry was back up. I stuffed the book in my bag. “I don’t think we’re supposed to steal books,” Terry said, his voice shaky.
“We’re also not supposed to blow up the building either,” I rebutted.
“Fair point.”
After that, we went to the shrine, which turned out to be a shrine to Dahak, the god of evil dragons, which made sense. There wasn’t anything really interesting inside, so we headed back to our quarters, then decided to check out the other quarters in hopes the occupants would be out and about.
The first was a plain stone cell with a pile of furs for a bed. I was hoping we’d find the bearskin inside, but no such luck. Terry did find a loose stone, under which he discovered a small figurine of a hideous looking creature. If I wasn’t mistaken, it almost looked like the strange offspring of a dragon and a weird subterranean creature I’d read about called a destrachan. But that would be weird.
“It’s magical,” Burin said, inspecting Terry’s prize.
“What does it do?” Terry asked, excitedly.
“If you speak the command word, it grows into a dragon about the size of the guard who escorted us here for some number of hours, and it seems it works only a couple times per week,” the dwarf explained.
“Can it fly?!” Terry asked, completely forgetting to use his practiced voice.
“I think so,” Burin said.
“Can I keep it?” Terry asked all of us, making puppy dog eyes.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be stealing people’s magical figurines,” Gregor teased him, using his own words from less than an hour before. Terry just stuck his tongue out at him.
We replaced the loose stone and carefully shut the door before heading to the next. This door was even larger than the last. It took Gregor a moment to open it. When he did, we were hit with a rush of cold air. Inside, in the mist, I could see broken tables and chairs heaped in a corner, and snow appeared to be piling up in the cracks where the walls met the floor.
Also, there was a massive, ten legged polar bear. And I mean massive. The thing had to have been fourteen or more feet tall, while still down on all of its legs! It regarded us for a moment, then let out a laugh. “FINALLY, YRAX UNDERSTANDS! AT LONG LAST HE SENDS ME A SACRIFICE!” Then he let out a roar and began to charge.
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