Furious Scribe
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13. Hull - Stupid Risks
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 01:44:39 +0000 UTC
Chapter 13
Stupid Risks
“They can’t make you do this,” Afi said as we walked through the sewers, the reek of ten thousand shits so strong in my nostrils it was almost a taste. “You could just walk away, you know.”
I peeked over at her in the dim light of our Sources. She was chewing a thumbnail, and her forehead was creased. How had I thought her odd and unremarkable when War Camp had started? I’d been an idiot. “Why don’t you do the same?” I countered.
“It’s different,” she said, shooting me a glare. “House Erlun sponsors me. I have to help.”
“You’re helping because everything’s gone to shit and you can do something about it,” I said. “You’d do the same if you were still living Hillside and you’d never gotten a crown from that asshole Warrick and his parents.”
“Except I wouldn’t be able to, because without them I’d just be a shopkeep’s daughter,” she said, barely audible over the slosh of the sewer and the sound of our footsteps on the walkway. “I owe them so much.”
“It’s not all that different, then,” I said with a rueful smile. “Basil’s the only reason I know up from down; I’d be dead half a dozen times over if he hadn’t decided to be my friend. If I can help, I have to.”
“But he doesn’t have a plan!” she insisted, her voice rising.
I shushed her, looking overhead for nearby grates up to the street. I didn’t see any, and who knew if there were any enemies overhead in any case, but it paid to be careful. “I don’t care how bad of shape he’s in or how mad with grief over Esmi he is, he’s not going to feed me to the vampires,” I said. “And even if he did, my mother wouldn’t let it happen.”
“Your mother…!” she said, throwing up her hands. “You know you can’t trust her.”
“I’m not going to,” I said. “But I can still use her curiosity and weird possessiveness to keep the Undead at arm’s length while I do what I need to.”
“Why by all the Twins’ graces would she do that? She’s the enemy, Hull. She killed the King!”
“But she likes a good deal,” I said, checking the metal plaque on the wall as we came to a cross-tunnel. Lord Hintal had given me directions; four more crossings and I should find rungs leading up to the street close to where I wanted to be. “And I’m going to give her what she wants.”
“Which is?”
“Me,” I said. “She wants to study me. Except really I’m starting to think that she just wants me to be her little demon-boy lackey and act all wide-eyed and impressed by her sneaky backstabbing ways. I can fake that for a while.”
“You turned your back on her,” Afi protested, snagging me by the elbow and drawing me to a halt. “You said so yourself.”
I gently pried her hand from my arm and took it in my own, patting it. “And two seconds after that she renewed the invitation to run off with her. She wants what she wants, Afi. She doesn’t care about this war or satisfying her allies. I’ll be safe.” I wasn’t at all sure of that, but it was what the woman in front of me needed to hear. Her hand was soft and warm in mine.
“She’s smarter than you, Hull,” she said grimly. “You can’t play her.”
I barked a rueful laugh, trying to keep it quiet. “A guy could use a Healing Potion after an honest conversation with you.”
She scowled, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “You need a bath, too.”
“Best I can hope for is me getting some of what I want while she gets what she wants,” I admitted. “She likes me well enough; it might work. And nobody had any better ideas, so…”
She shifted on her feet, looking uncomfortable. “What if I helped you take out the guards on their sewer entrance? We could get in and out with no one knowing.”
I shook my head. “You heard Lord Tightass. The sewers are swarming underneath the Palace – we’d never fight our way through. It’d be a different story if you could pull me into your Mind Home.”
Her free hand snaked up to snarl in my shirtfront like she was trying to hold me still and take a swing at me. “If I could, you’d already be locked in there. This is stupid.”
Her jaw was jutting stubbornly, and the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid framed her face like a picture. Ah, what the hell. Talking was getting us nowhere, so I kissed her.
She made a surprised noise, going stiff. I’d thought about this plenty since the Gala all those weeks before, but the reality was something else entirely. I’d gone in too fast, too hard, and my teeth jammed up against the inside of my mouth, making my lips hurt. I peeked at her, and her eyes were wide, less than an inch away from my own.
I froze and pulled back. “Uh. Sorry. I… I’ve never–”
The hand on my shirt tightened and pulled me back into her. She made a much more graceful approach than I had, her lips meeting mine and then melting into something indescribably soft and delicious. A fire lit inside of me, and I held her tight.
Our faces parted. Her breath was sweet. It was like I was standing in a field of flowers instead of a sewer. “About damn time,” she said.
“It’ll be okay,” I told her. “We’ll have our check-ins every night after the midnight bell. You’ll know exactly how I’m doing.” I had no idea who was still ringing the city’s bells with a war on, but they’d been as reliable as always.
“If you think I’m going to kiss you in front of Basil – or your mother, for that matter – you’d best think again.” she warned me, then snuck in another quick one before letting me go. “You get out of the Palace alive and maybe we can continue this conversation.”
I was grinning like a moron. “I’ll, uh. Yeah.”
She shook a scolding finger at me. “Safe. No stupid risks. Other than going in the first place, which is enough stupid for a lifetime all at once.”
“Safe,” I repeated. “I’ll do my best.”
She retreated slowly, scanning my face as if memorizing it, and then swiftly turned around and walked back the way we’d come. There was no point in both of us getting too close to the Palace. From the beginning Hintal had told her to only accompany me partway. I’d always thought her walk to be business-like and mannish, but as I watched her go, her dusty dress swishing about her trim calves, I saw for the first time there was a hint of feminine sway hidden there.
I shook my head, realizing she’d already turned a corner and I was staring at nothing. I didn’t know what to make of Afi’s interest in me, but I suddenly realized I very much looked forward to figuring it out.
Two more crossings brought me to the rungs leading up to the grate at Avensory Road and King’s Crook, just out of sight of the Sun’s Welcome Square in front of the Palace gates. With a deep breath, I started pulling cards and putting them on the float to keep my hands free. It took some cycling to get my Iron Maiden Plate, Talisman of Spite, and Vampiric Blade summoned, but I did it in a daze anyway, still feeling Afi’s lips on my own. Focus, asshole. Plenty of time to be dumb and horny later.
There was one part of my entrance plan that was supposed to be waiting for me on the streets above, and I sincerely hoped it was. I was walking into a vipers’ nest here, and I needed all the power I could get. I wished bitterly I could have waited another week or two for this infiltration. The Queen had mentioned offhandedly during her planning that one of her retinue members that had escaped with her was her private Soulsmith, who had a soul ability that drastically reduced the amount of time it took to break down cards. I’d fallen all over myself calling in the future favor she had promised me to get him started on processing the Death cards I’d won from the vampire I’d killed in the Lows.
Lord Hintal had made some indignant noises about pooling card resources during war, to which I’d none too politely told him that anyone in the room who had helped defend the Lows was more than welcome to share in the rewards. Thankfully, the Queen had sided with me, though she’d told me that any cards gained while fighting for the city from here on out would indeed have to be turned over to Edaine for best distribution and use across all our forces. A record would be kept, and a fair recompense would be made once the city was ours again. I couldn’t very well argue, seeing as how she was letting me keep the cards I’d won so far.
I’d handed the Queen my entire Death deck to get the process started, and I wished it were already done. I’d feel a lot more comfortable stepping into the enemy’s mouth once I had a few more Mythics in my Mind Home. The only card I’d held back was the vampire’s Epic soul card.
I’d kept it because I thought I might have to return it to the vampires Basil wanted me to meet in order to keep them from killing me. I wouldn’t give up the Epic easily, but I wanted to keep the option open in case I needed it.
I heaved the grate aside and poked my head up into the street cautiously. There was no one in sight. That was both encouraging and concerning. I didn’t want to get overrun by the enemy with only my head and shoulders above the cobbles, but on the other hand, I’d sent a message to that damned Yveda of mine to meet me here, and I didn’t see him anywhere. I scrambled to my feet and hustled for the nearest doorway to get some cover. My Plate clanked as I ran, but it didn’t hamper me like normal steel-and-chain would have; for a bare moment I missed the rag-wraps and tattered clothes of a street urchin. They made sneaking a lot easier.
I sat there for several minutes, fuming more and more as the seconds passed. I’m going to take Yveda out of my Mind Home to teach that demon a lesson. When I give a command, he has to follow. Another part of me knew I’d do no such thing, not while we were fighting for the city, but I needed him to get into the Palace. I looked all around. Walled manors stood cheek-to-cheek with high-end shops and fine dining businesses, all shuttered tight. There hadn’t been any fighting on this street, by the looks of it. Statues of heroes and fanciful gargoyles topped the outer walls of the offensively-rich manor homes. Nothing moved.
“Am I some Common, to be sent messages by runner?” came a voice from above.
Starting, I edged out into the street. “Yveda? Where are you?”
Two doors down, a crouched gargoyle shifted and stood, his sharp horns catching the afternoon sun. “I am Mythic, you arrogant soft-skin. I have seen centuries and spilled an ocean of blood. My lessers weep at my name… and you send me a note that says ‘Come?!’”
I sighed inside. “Get down here. You know I couldn’t come get you myself.”
The rooftop behind the wall on which Yveda stood suddenly sprouted dozens of copies as they crested the peak all at once. “I WILL BE RESPECTED.” The copies spoke in perfect unison, and all of them together – now a hundred or more – sounded like an avalanche.
“So will I,” I snapped, all the stress and fear that had building boiling up and out of me. “I use you, Yveda. Isn’t that what you want? Who else will bring you so many fights, so much death? How many of your weaker brethren have you pulled down since we began this? I respect you, dammit, and that’s why I called you here. I need your help! Will you come down here?”
There was a long pause, and another one of him walked around the corner toward me. “You do not bend. That is good. But never send me a summons like that again.”
I bit my tongue instead of telling him I saw no difference between what I’d done – sending one of the Watchmen to the Lows with a scribbled note telling Yveda where to meet me – and yanking him out of my Mind Home without notice in order to beat the shit out of whoever I wanted. “We’re walking into the Palace, and you’re going to be my honor guard. I’m glad you’ve got so many copies here. It’ll be sure to scare any low-level demons or undead that might try to stop us.”
Yveda cocked his head, considering. “I will need to multiply more if you wish to assault the city’s stronghold. Much, much more. The lich is there.”
“We’re not assaulting anything. We’re going to walk in like we own the place.”
The demon snorted. “Bold.”
“I figure like this: you were one of the leaders of this army until just a few weeks ago. Most will still be plenty scared of you, and by the time they go running for their heavy hitters, my mother will be there.”
Yveda blanched a bit. “That may not be the person you wish to depend upon. I always went to great lengths to avoid her.”
“I’ve already had this conversation once,” I said testily. “Bring yourself off the roof and form up. We’re going in.”
Five minutes later we did exactly that. The great front gates of the Palace stood closed, with perhaps a dozen wights and a handful of lesser demons milling about outside. I had both my Demon Marauders, the Night Terror, and the Spell Drinker summoned. We were encircled by a host of Yvedas all marching in step. When we entered the great square facing the gates, cries of alarm went up, and one of the wights called up to someone on the walls – a necromancer, maybe? – who darted away, likely to call for reinforcements.
As I’d hoped, though, the fact that it was a great phalanx of demons approaching gave them pause. They recognized Yveda. They certainly knew by now he was dead and being summoned, but still, seeing hundreds of Mythics approaching all at once made these underlings freeze in caution.
We stopped all together mere steps away from the wights and smaller demons huddled before the gates. “Open,” the Yveda in front said.
They all looked to each other. It was a mid-sized demon with drooping wings who finally spoke up. “We were ordered–”
“Open now,” my Mythic demon said with all of his copies at once. The enemies before him quaked. The spokesman-copy continued. “If I meant violence, do you not think it would have already occurred? I bring a liaison to treat with Yveda. I can kill you all and rip the doors of the hinges if I must, but apparently that’s not how these humans do diplomacy.” His eyes bored into the smaller demon. “Is this the fight you wish to lose, little Meergund?”
The other demon licked scaled lips with a forked tongue. “I am only one kill from reaching Pindermast.”
“Open, or you will never reach that name,” Yveda said, perfectly calm.
Before the unnerved underling could respond, the gates creaked open behind them. There, in the gap, stood my mother.
“Nice to see you, Endless,” she said. “You’re looking rather dead.”
“Changer,” my Yveda said, inclining his head ever so slightly. “You are not, more’s the pity.”
“Better it was me,” Mother said. “You were never built for the kind of work I have to do here.”
“I bring your son,” he said, gesturing to me.
“I know,” she said languidly. She quirked an eyebrow at me. “I’m surprised you kept the summon stone. Last I heard, you never wanted to see me again.”
I cursed and fished the purple stone from the bottom of my pocket where it had lain forgotten ever since she’d yanked me to her side after Hestorus died. I tossed it to the cobblestones and let it clatter away.
She laughed. “Oh no, how will I ever keep track of you now?” Her smile was indulgent.
I clenched my jaw. Two seconds of talking with her and already she was getting under my skin. “I’ve changed my mind. These humans don’t need me. I want you to teach me how to be a demon.”
She waved a hand, and the ranks of Yvedas parted for her, opening a path to me. My own squad of demons tensed and chuffed, but I waved them into silence. I felt like an over-tightened lute string myself, but there was no need for her to know that. She got right up in my face and inspected me. “Such a change of heart,” she whispered. “What did they do to you?”
“Who cares?” I said roughly. “I’m here now. Didn’t you want to find out how I survived losing my soul card? I’ll let you study me. Just let me stay.”
She pursed her lips. “Felstrife won’t like that; a point in your favor. What will Xemris think? Hmm, I rather think I’d like to find out.”
“I can help you with your plans,” I said. “I’m finished with these humans.”
Her emerald-flecked eyes bored into mine, and she was silent for a long moment. “You’re lying,” she said softly. “Good boy.”
“I’m not,” I protested, heart thudding.
“You are,” she said, turning away lazily. “But that’s quite all right. Give me a week or two and we’ll make it true.”
The blood ran cold inside me, and for a second I considered turning tail and running back to the sewers. Afi was right; I couldn’t fool this woman. If she wanted to let me in, it was because she intended to win everything and leave me with nothing.
“Dismiss your souls, but leave Yveda the Endless outside the gates,” she said, waving a hand. “I don’t want him filling up the castle and getting underfoot.”
My Yveda shot me a troubled glance, but I nodded at him, my momentary fright passing. I had to get to Basil, even if that meant getting tangled up with my mother again. I’d made my decision. No backing down. My other demons whiffed into mist as I dismissed them. My honor guard of Mythic copies turned on their heels in perfect formation and trooped back out through the square, not giving me another glance. I assumed he’d go back to the Lows where the rest of his copies were massed and continue fighting. Even if he picked another spot to break shit and kill enemies, that was fine. So long as he was killing, he’d be happy and so would I.
His exit, however, left me standing alone among a cluster of wights and demons who no longer looked nearly so cowed as before. Beyond the gates, Mother was sauntering away.
“Enemies on all sides, uncertain alliances already falling to bits, and not a soul you can trust,” she called back to me. “Come along, Hull; I’ve got so much to teach you. This is going to be fun.”
Comments
Sharrif
I wonder if he can “call” to his card from a distance, as a Summoner… I get the sense that that’s what Endless was insinuating when he got angry at being called by a runner. Because being called mentally, being ordered, is the “right” way to do so, rather than being told like some Common peasant.
Rex Martin
And hopefully some newly acquired nether cards graciously donated by some awfully kind demons
iridium248
Well, Hull's deep in it now. On the plus side, if he survives all this, he'll have a fat stack of shards waiting for him.
