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Chapter 510
🕑 Added 2022-10-09 02:50:51 +0000 UTCEnjoy!
* * *
They descended again, a sickening lurch as powerful currents tore at them before the Lindwurms wriggled their way through.
Cold Resistance is level 22!
Vess shivered between the bars of their cage. Felix was still maintaining his Sunken Ward, which had warded off all sense of chill, pressure, and even moisture—but as the Lindwurms swarm further into the depths, its power began to wane. They had personal shields, thanks to the Pendants of Quick Guard Felix had given them all, which had prevented many injuries thus far, but their magic did nothing against the dangers of the deep. She could still breathe, thankfully, but the effects of the rest were mounting.
<<Take this.>> Lady Isla handed her an open jar. It was made of clay and covered in complicated sigaldry. Inside were pale white flowers, glowing faintly to her Elemental Eye. <<Place your fingers within.>>
Vess did so, and immediately felt a thrill tingle across her skin.
Status Condition: Warm Embrace
Duration: 3 Breaths
Warm Embrace
A layer of heat and life Mana clings to your Body, regulating your temperature despite outside conditions.
The sensation of cold vanished, and though it did little for the pressure, Vess was immediately grateful.
<<Keep your fingers within that pot, and it will help ease the burden,>> Lady Isla said, before handing out similar jars out to everyone else, including the War Naga.
<<Where did you get this?>> Vess hadn’t seen the woman harvesting plants, for all that her pockets and pouches bulged.
<<From the Temple, before we left. It was too useful a plant to leave alone, not when we were heading so deep.>> The Chanter forced a smile. <<Leaning so heavily on Felix alone was never apart of my plans.>>
Vess inclined her head in thanks, and the Chanter returned her focus to the Minotaur in her lap. Lady Isla had put most of her focus on Beefhammer these past few hours, and for good reason. The Unbound was still sporting a nasty gash across his forehead, bruises on his forearms, and broken knuckles—all courtesy of his frequent thrashing spasms. It had gotten so bad, that three of the War Nagas were draping their heavy, snake bodies across the boy. Even that was only barely enough to stop him from careening across the cage. He twitched again, but thankfully stilled beneath Lady Isla’s hands. A long, continuous note was hovering about the woman, a ribbon that swirled through Vess’ Affinity with a green-gold radiance.
<<The seizures are getting worse. Is there any sign of Felix waking?>> the Chanter asked.
Vess looked to her right. Felix remained in the spot he’d taken up at the start of their incarceration, seated with his legs folded beneath him and arms loose at his side. He was breathing easily, but sweat beaded upon his brow. She knew that if she were to touch him, the man would feel as stone; a detail they had discovered when Beef’s first spasm had launched a wild fist at Felix’s face. The Autarch had not budged but Beef’s fist had broken instead. <<No. He is the same as he has been.>>
<<I suppose if Michael’s blow had not awakened him, nothing will,>> Lady Isla muttered.
Vess agreed. Nothing was going to wake Felix but Felix himself, much to her chagrin. Beef’s haphazard attack hadn’t even smudged Felix’s cheek. However, the force of Beef’s punch had spread, splintering the iron and stone beneath them. The Lindwurms had not appreciated that, threatening them all with death and worse…but they shied away from Felix as they reinforced it, until Vess could barely see between the bars at all.
They fear Felix, but not us. Vess tried to swallow her bitter anger at the draconic monstrosities, and found herself unsuccessful. It stewed in her gut, an alchemist’s potion of bile and frustration. She gripped her partisan. Not me.
The chill increased again, and Vess realized she had taken her hand from the pot. She released her spear with a single hand, getting her fingers to the edge of the lid before hesitating. Cold Resistance is a useful Skill…and I cannot level it if I do not let it flow through me. Vess capped the jar once more, tucking it into her belt pouch. I can handle more than this. I barely feel it.
A corner of her Mind recognized that for the lie it was—it wasn’t that she didn’t feel the cold. Vess felt it in her bones now. No, merely that the stewpot of bitter bile inside her was boiling hard enough that she simply didn’t care.
Cold Resistance is level 23!
We need every edge we can procure. Soon I will reach Apprentice Tier, she thought, channeling her anger toward productivity. Just a little longer.
By Vess’ estimate, it had been at least four glasses since their capture, and there was no evidence of their stopping yet. Distance had become rather murky for the heiress, as their caged journey had blended into a chill uniformity, and time itself felt strange. She was positive of its passage, but the dark waters and undulating Fathom spawn blocked all view of passing landmarks. Time was unmoored—mutable, where once it was held in lockstep with the world.
Beef shivered again, but the War Nagas tightened their coils atop his legs and chest. The warriors on loan from the Deepking were stalwart despite the strains of fear and anger that sang from their Spirits. Vess felt a kinship with them as never before. They traded only a few words, but they were unified in their hatred of the Fathom spawn.
Vess shivered, but kept her fingers clenched tightly around her partisan. She fought against the cold, stoking up the fires of opposition in her heart. The Lindwurms and their lesser brethren were exactly what the Dragoons were founded to fight against; vile, murderous, and without remorse. Among draconic Types, they were among the strongest she’d ever encountered. Save for the Depthwurms they had already faced, Vess had not even heard of a draconic Type that approached Tier V—what would be a Master Tier for monsters. These Lindwurms…each one held the weight of a Tier VI. Vess burned to kill them, to bring them low with the thrust of her spear, but she knew she would fail. Felix might have been able to rip one of them to shreds alone, but it was an impossible task for her…especially as she was restricted to using only her Spear of Tribulations and stats.
She needed the Skills of a Dragoon.
Yet those Skills were beyond her, locked in the Skill books that were still strapped to her pack, rendered untouchable by the eldritch influence of a Primordial. If she were to stand a chance against the Lindwurms, let alone the Fathom itself, Vess needed to reconstitute her Temper.
<<Have I progressed far enough?>> she asked the Lady Isla. <<Is my core cleansed?>>
The Chanter did not look up from Beef’s horned head, her hands constantly moving. <<That is a question only you can know for certain, child.>> She looked up, and Vess couldn’t help but notice the deep lines beneath the small woman’s eyes. <<I told you. To proceed with less than utter conviction is to invite disaster.>>
Vess pulled a breath through her nostrils, trying and failing to cool her emotions. She had never felt so agitated, but she had also never had her people’s enemies so close and her so helpless to fight back. <<How can I be ready faster?>>
<<That is entirely up to you, Lady Dayne.>> The Chanter broke eye contact as Beef twitched again. <<Or you can press your luck once more. Use your tainted Skills and perhaps risk never recompositioning again.>>
Vess stood, suddenly and furiously. <<I—>>
<<You used them to good effect, child. I cannot fault you for bringing us out of a dire situation with the tools at your disposal. But each use simply strengthens the roots of those unwanted weeds.>>
<<I know,>> Vess whispered. <<I will not use them again.>>
True, they had been so...useful, earlier. But even that short usage had pushed them closer to tiering up, and their visualization within her core space felt firmer than ever. It filled her with dread, a fear that was one part anger and two parts nauseus anxiety. Felix had asked her, but she'd done it knowing the consequences. Removing them would be that much harder now, just as Lady Isla said.
Beef kicked out a leg, drawing a pained hiss from one of the War Naga. Lady Isla grasped his horns, gripping them and wrenching with more Strength than Vess expected. Beef’s head twisted, and a burst of eerie, burning liquid forced itself from his mouth. It curled on itself and faded into dusty sand moments later, but not before Vess’ Elemental Eye identified a great number of Mana types infused within it.
<<It grows worse,>> Lady Isla said, her voice somber. The long song of her Chant faded from hearing, and she let go of the Minotaur’s horns in frustration. <<We will see this Fathom soon, and I cannot wake Michael or even budge his core. It’s simply madness within him. I do not understand how he still lives.>>
<<They will both be fine,>> Vess insisted, pushing beyond that boiling brew within her. <<I am certain of it.>>
<<And what of us?>> Lady Isla asked, her coronet askew. <<Will we survive to see them wake?>>
Vess brandished her partisan, and in a flash of silver summoned a single Spear to hover beside her. <<I am a Dragoon, Lady Isla. We do not fall to dragons.>>
No matter what, Vess would be ready.
* * *
Down, down, down.
The Lindwurms carried them further and further afield, down into the black depths. So far below the surface that Vess had to clench her abdomen so that her spine wouldn’t compress. The cold increased again, so frigid now that it felt like fire in her veins. It was a brutal, terrible test of her Endurance and Willpower, but Vess did not set it aside. Anything and everything she could hold to fight against the Fathom, she would sharpen to a razor’s edge.
Spear of Tribulations is level 81!
She stood, pacing herself through the Steps of the Dragoon and maneuvering one other Spear in addition to her partisan. It was all there was room for within the cramped confines of the cage. But Vess did not let it stop her from extracting every inch of value from their time in transit. The cage, her allies, even the thickening gelid waters surrounding them became obstacles to overcome. Training partners that she tested her mettle against, as she pressed her Agility and Dexterity to its limit to avoid them all.
Time passed. Her initial count grew unreliable, until Vess no longer worried about estimating it at all. There was only the moment. There was only the Spear.
When she grew tired, she rested. When she was hungry, she ate from their stores. She flared her Skills, those that would not risk her fate, cycling through them whenever she had the stores of energy to afford them. Slowly, they rose.
Spear of Tribulations is level 82!
Elemental Eye is level 74!
Analyze is level 61!
Diplomacy is level 67!
The last was a strange result, which Vess soon attributed to the looks of admiration she garnered from the War Naga. Her unflagging diligence had earned her more than one mute nod of appreciation.
She felt…not ready, but honed. Primed for a battle that she might not win, but would fight until the last breath left her Body, her Mind went dark, and her Spirit returned to her ancestors.
The cage shook.
<<What was that?>> Lavix asked. She slithered to the bars before gasping. <<The spawn! They are retreating!>>
Vess strode to her side, peering through the miniscule gap between rock and iron. The Naga was right. The flood of Fathom spawn had vanished, leaving only the five huge Lindwurms guarding them. They were more than enough on their own, but Vess took heart. <<A fortunate turn of events. It seems the Lindwurms are escorting us alone.>>
<<Truly? Do they no longer fear the boy?>> Lady Isla asked. The Chanter looked more than tired, but a measure of strength entered her voice at the prospect of change. <<Felix was able to rend one of their number into pieces. They must hold great faith in their master to dismiss their army.>>
Lavix grunted, clutching at her head. <<Or the spawn simply could not withstand this,>> she said through clenched fangs. <<Oh, it is agony!.>>
Vess felt it too, as the water rapidly increased in chill and pressure once again. And again. She managed to release a single, high pitched exhale before falling to her knees in pure pain.
Cold Resistance is level 24!
Cold Resistance is level 25!
You Have Reached Apprentice Tier With Cold Resistance!
You Gain:
+5 END
+5 VIT
+5 AGL
Cold Resistance is level 26!
…
Cold Resistance is level 35!
The moment her resistance exceeded Apprentice Tier, the majority of the mammoth pain vanished, replaced only by the hideous sensation of live coals replacing her bones. Vess bit off her screams, fumbling with her pouch to retrieve the jar she’d gotten earlier. The Warm Embrance Status Condition alleviated the worst of the cold, enough that her vision unfuzzed, and just in time to see the retreating lip of a great cliff side vanish above them.
<<Is that ice?>> she asked, her voice worn thin. It came out far quieter than she expected and Vess swallowed twice to no avail. Her throat was raw from the screams.
<<We are inside the center of Khasma,>> Lady Isla said. She was hastily smearing a thick ungeant on the War Naga before turning to Vess. <<The Fathom is close. I can feel it distorting the strains of Harmony. Here.>> She laid the paste onto Vess’ forehead, and her throat immediately restored itself as aches and minor wounds from her mad training faded. <<We will need our strength, and this is all I have. Make it count, Lady Dayne.>>
Vess nodded mutely, her gaze pulled uncontrollably to the world outside their cage as her heart hammered wildly in her chest. The dark had receded somewhat as a purple-blue glow suffused the waters, highlighting the lightning-like patterns of ice that crawled up the walls. Soon, far more quickly than she anticipated, they reached the bottom, and Vess looked on in amazement. Vessels of all shapes and sizes littered the deep silt, most encased entirely in ice, and all clearly of Ages long since past. They sat scattered among the frozen, half-mutilated corpses of titanic beasts, each one a rival for the Lindwurms.
<<Remnants of an ancient battle,>> Lady Isla whispered. <<Beasts so old that my Analyze does not recognize them.>>
<<A war of the gods,>> Lavix said in a horrified hiss. <<How do we fight something that did this?>>
<<You don’t.>>
The voice rumbled above them, utterly calm yet as loud as any scream. The cage shook itself apart beneath that voice, the stone and iron turned instantly to a fine dust that swirled once around them before whisking away in an invisible current. Vess stumbled, but only slightly, her stats and training allowing her to level her blue-white parisian in the direction of the voice. She nearly dropped it in horror, however, as she beheld the twisted monstrosities that surrounded them all. The voice chuckled.
<<You beg.>>
