Her brow tried to furrow, tighten, refused.
“Slave!” she repeated. “Light the lamps!”
Her words sounded only in her head.
She herself was the source of the hollow sound, and still there was no light, only translucent strands, some of them drifting across her field of vision.
“Where am I?”
The words came out as a croaking wheeze, like old bellows working in an abandoned forge.
She rose and whatever chair she was sitting on must be very ancient indeed, because wood, or something very like wood, creaked and groaned.
There was still darkness, but in the darkness ghost treasures lay stacked around the wall of her chamber; golden figurines of the animals of her ice kingdom, caskets of jewels, contour hugging gowns of silver mail, all allure and no protection…
Panic flooded her mind, but again there was quickening neither of breath nor pulse. Nor was there the rise and fall of the chest, nor indeed the presence of heartbeat.
“What am I?”
Rasinta the Ice Queen. Lich. Level 10.
Will 1 of 10.
Potestas 1 of 10. Potestas Reservoir 27.
Vocations:
Lich, 10…
“Enough!”
The memory came back to her like a shroud.
Queen Rasinta sank into her throne, tried not to hear the protest of mummified skin as it flexed, of parched joints as they bent.
Weeping phantom tears from shrivelled ducts, she settled against the backboard and listened…more than listened, she felt; felt the thrum of the translucent strands, then felt her…abode as if it were an extension of herself.
It was an extension of herself; for shade creatures like a Lich, the symbol of the thing is the thing.
One of the strands thickened and tugged at her sternum, and she knew the other end was fastened in the chest of the soul thief herself.
Queen Rasinta reached with both hands for the strand. The ghost of her fingers passed through the translucent filament.
Test of Will 1. Fail.
1 Potestas expended. 0 of 10 remaining.
Power Level 0.
You are Debilitated.
Her hands collided. Bone and withered skin touched in the dark.
She snatched them apart and shuddered. Soon she would be able to haul on that filament, find her freedom, but not yet.
The memory came to her of the first time a soul thief had approached her tomb.
Rasinta had been oh-so-eager to feel the wind again, to embrace lovers, or to revel in the touch of her handmaidens. She had tugged hard, and the soul thief had moved too quickly for the dead memories to catch up. The easily evaded first trap had sprung and the strand had snapped back into Rasinta’s sternum bringing with it a burst of Potestas, but no soul.
The second time a soul thief answered the call of the tomb, Rasinta had sat and waited in the not-dark.
This soul thief flinched from the first trap, but the interval of one incarnation had evidently erased the dead memories of the second trap.
And so it went. Every generation a soul thief arrived, and each time, through ignorance, she failed to bring her precious cargo as far as the Refectory.
If her worshippers had not kept her fed all these centuries, Rasinta would have faded away, all her splendour lost, her memories surrendered to her hateful successors.
The strand thrummed and Rasinta experienced a numb echo of desire.
For the first time, it seemed, the soul thief had arrived in company. For obvious reasons, the tomb’s magic had not been configured for this. However, though companions might add complexity, they might also ensure that the soul thief survive the several traps.
1 of 10 Potestas recovered.
Will 2
That was enough.
Rasinta’s consciousness flowed from her like a silken gown and extended to embrace her tomb.
While she waited to come into her full powers, she would use what little strength she had to keep the soul thief alive.
Chapter 38: The Green Door
Ingar peered into the gloom of the tomb’s entrance tunnel.
Burglar Level 4. 12 Potestas. Form 5.
Performing Burglar at Level 9.
He mopped his brow with the back of his hand. “That heap of bones certainly helps focus the mind.”
“Good,” grunted Torstag, who was hefting a log they’d trimmed using their long knives.
“About there,” said Ingar, indicating with the butt of his axe.
Torstag dropped one end onto the spot, then pushed the log upright so it jammed the big stone hatch into place the way a column holds up a temple porch roof.
Ingar rapped his knuckles on the wood.
“It’s solid,” said Torstag, and Ingar felt he didn’t recognise his old friend. The lamellar armour and helmet belonged on his broad frame, as did the big sword that sat comfortably on his steel-covered hip.
“Yeah,” said Ingar. “Take my axe, will you?”
Torstag flinched back. “No…I mean I need to keep my hands free for my sword.”
“Fuck!” said Ingar. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Ghost?” said Torstag. He drew himself up. “No, nothing like that.”
Ingar turned and offered his weapon instead to Millicent. “Miss Millicent, would you mind looking after my axe.”
“Axe?” said Millicent. “Isn’t it technically a halberd?”
“Pedant,” said Ingar. He took a deep breath then stepped into the shadow of the open hatch. Cool air bathed his face but no instant death descended on him. He played the everlight over the tomb’s entrance passage.
Performing Burglar at Level 9.
Result = 9 (Performance) +0 (Luck) +4 (Trap Witnessed) -10 (Challenge) = 3
Trigger Plate trap detected.
Sure enough there was a seam in the stone two paces beyond the threshold. Interesting that he didn’t need a feat for this.
Tell me something I don’t know, Doofus!
You are Ingar, Human Warlock, Youth, Quick Witted, Nimble Fingered, Hedonistic, Sensitive.
Potestas 12/6. Will 3. Horror of Murder 1/6.
Morning meditation had been worth it, but nothing seemed to remove his Issue…not that it needed removing, really.
Vitality 4/4. Toughness 2.
Vocations:
Burglar 4: Hide, Climb +1, Spider Climb, Move Silently, Stalk, Pick Pocket, Open Lock, Detect Trap, Stalk Close 3/6, Disarm Trap 2/6.
Warrior 1 (Halberds): Wrath Strike 1/6.
Companion 0: Gallantry 2/6.
Artist 0: Visualisation 4/6.
Various capabilities including Meditation.
I knew all that!
“Be careful,” said Zahna behind him.
“Do let the artist work in peace,” said Millicent.
“Because somebody is going to get hurt,” said Zahna.
“Hey! Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Ingar.
“The portents,” said Zahna. “That’s why I brewed some healing tea.”
“Well that’s okay then,” said Ingar.
“Tea won’t help you regrow a hand…or a head,” said Zahna.
Ingar peered into the darkness beyond the glow of the everlight.
“What are you all talking about?” said Millicent. “Portents. Healing tea? Mumbo jumbo.”
A thought came to Ingar. “Chalk.”
“Chalk what?”
“Does anybody have some?”
Millicent harrumphed and rummaged in her hand bag. She produced a big stick. “Have you actually done this before?”
Ingar’s Form was good. Let’s try Gallantry again.
Performing Companion at level 5.
Using Gallantry 3/6, cost 3 Potestas, 8 of 6 Potestas remaining.
He probably shouldn’t be burning through his Potestas just to flirt.
“Experience is overrated,” said Ingar, rising. He caught hold of the stick of chalk, and for a moment both were gripping it.
He found himself glancing at the chalk suggestively—which was idiotic, because what was suggestive about a stick of chalk and immediately wished he could bite back the words. Surely he had gone too far?
Miss Millicent’s eyes twinkled. “I’m sure I could change your mind about that.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he said.
“You might end up…plunging in out of your depth,” she said.
“I’m sure it would be great fun looking for traps.”
The older woman pursed her lips.
Ingar held his breath, trying not to flinch.
She grinned. “Some traps are more welcoming than others.”
“But still basically dangerous,” said Ingar.
Millicent laughed.
Result = 5 (Performance) +1 (Luck) +4 (Enthusiastic Target) = 10
Effect = Purposeful Practical Response (4) lasting about 4 hours (4)
Gallantry advances to 3/6 Grasp.
It was suddenly inevitable that something should happen between them, and the worst of it was Ingar didn’t care that Warlock Feats were at work. He was also very glad that his monk’s habit was quite so roomy.
“Ahem,” said Zahna. “Traps? Tomb robbing?”
“Spoilsport,” said Ingar and risked a cheeky smile.
Performing Companion at level 5.
Result = 5 (Performance) +1 (Luck) -5 (Target Performance) =1.
Effect = 1 -3 (Will) = -2. Abject failure.
Zahna gave him a withering look.
“I’m doing it, I’m doing it!” Ingar marked the near and far edge of the trigger for the spiked grille. Careful not to lean out, he extended the ten-foot pole and—holding his breath—tapped at the space between the bones and the trigger plate.
“Nothing,” said Millicent.
“Nothing is good,” said Ingar.
He kicked off his sandals and tucked them in his belt next to the long knife they had looted from the bounty hunters. Barefoot now, he stepped over the trigger and let his weight settle slowly. The stone was cool on his soles, covered in tiny fracture lines like a mosaic. “Don’t worry folks.”
Using Burglar, Detect Trap. 1 Potestas expended.
7 of 6 Potestas remaining.
Form 5.
Performing Burglar at Level 9.
Starting the day on top form! Thanks Doofus.
Detecting Traps at 9 (Performance) +2 (Feat) = 11.
So the feat gave him a bit of a boost. How significant was a “+2”?
There was something not quite right about the floor beyond the bones.
Success = 11 (Detecting Traps) +1 (Luck) -12 (Challenge) = 0
Effect: Possible Trap spotted.
“I’ve spotted one. See, no worries?”
He shivered. The air was certainly cooler in the tunnel.
“Is this going to take long?” asked Millicent.
Ingar glanced over his shoulder.
The buxom woman was leaning on the log column, looking bored. It shifted under her weight. She stood up straight as if nothing had happened. “Only,” she said, “I have just remembered that I am supposed to be home for a meeting of the Trustees.”
Ingar dropped to his haunches and peered beyond the pile of bones. The change of angle cast long shadows from irregularities in the rock-cut floor. It also showed up where teeth and bits of bone littered the tunnel.
“These bodies aren’t all from the first trap,” said Ingar. “Somebody’s been moving the kills from the next one, and perhaps some others and piling them up in the entrance.”
“You mean this tomb has a…a janitor?” exclaimed Millicent.
“Not one you’d want to meet,” said Torstag.
“Well it’s perfectly safe right now,” said Ingar, considering whether to leap over the bones or push them aside. Something clunked. His left and right foot each sank just a little. The fragments of stone started to tilt. Dozens of sharp points pricked his soles.
Success = 11 (Detecting Traps) -1 (Luck) -12 (Challenge) = -2
Result = Trap Triggered.
“Bugger fuck I missed one! Fuuuu…”
Test of 7 Potestas. Dodging.
Even as he cursed, his muscles twitched and hurled him backwards towards the entrance. Time seemed to slow down.
He sailed out over the threshold. “…uuuuuuu…”
Success = 9 (Performance) +1 (Luck) -8 (Challenge) = 0
Effect = Near Miss.
As Torstag yelled his name, Ingar crashed into Miss Millicent, then sprawled in the mud at her ankle-high boots. “…uuuuck!” He curled up and hugged his feet that had so nearly been impaled. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck. FUCK!”
The librarian peered down at him over the top of her corseted bosom. “Is the profanity aspirational, or are you merely badly injured?”
Ingar grinned up at her. “Keep a good hold on my weapon, just in case.”
“Ingar!” Torstag dropped to kneel beside him.
Ingar sat up. “I’m fine! Really.”
There was a metallic squeal from the tunnel.
Spikes had risen from the floor like a malign hedgehog, displacing all the little stone scales. Now they were retracting again.
Success = 11 (Detecting Traps) +0 (Luck) +4 (Trap Witnessed) -12 (Challenge) = 3
“Why the fuck didn’t I spot it in time?”
Double Trigger Plate Detected. Trap triggers on simultaneous pressure on two locations.
“Bloody marvellous,” said Ingar.
“Who are you talking to?” asked Miss Millicent. “Oh.”
“We’re all warlocks,” said Ingar, picking himself up. He leaned into the tunnel and retrieved his ten-foot pole. He banged the second trigger plate, left right, forward back. “I think we’re okay if we stand on one leg.”
“I have a better idea,” said Zahna. She closed her eyes and started her weird throat chanting.
“Fascinating,” said Miss Millicent. “What is that?”
“Shush,” said Torstag without turning his gaze from the tall girl.
“Magic,” said Ingar, “obviously.”
“There’s no such thing as magic,” said Miss Millicent in a stage whisper. “Perhaps psychic powers, and I will certainly now grant the strong possibility of reincarnation, but not actual magic.”
Zahna stopped chanting. Her eyes snapped open. “Give me the chalk.”
Ingar tossed it to her. “If it makes you happy.”
Zahna caught it, in turn tossed her staff to Torstag, then strode up to the tomb entrance.
“Careful!” said Torstag, who now carried both weapons.
Zahna ignored him, stepped over the first and second trigger plates to kick bones out of the way. “Bones are safe,” she said. She stooped to draw two circles on the floor beyond the pile. “And it’s safe going through the middle,” she said.
“Your magic shows you traps!” said Ingar. “So much for all that crap about needing me.”
Zahna shook her head. “I can see safe paths, that’s all. It doesn’t tell me how to disarm traps or open locks.” She strode further down the tunnel, then squatted and drew around another patch. “Not safe there.”
“Come on,” said Torstag.
Millicent handed him his axe.
“Bloody marvellous,” said Ingar, slinging the weapon over one shoulder.
“Oh don’t be a brat,” said Millicent. She slapped his buttocks. “I am sure your time will come.”
Ingar started forward, even though the whole thing seemed like a stupid way to get killed.
He checked just past the threshold. Why was he doing this? Was Millicent influencing him?
“Hurry up,” she said, then made the kind of double-clicking noise more appropriate for urging on a horse.
Ingar laughed. “What the fuck? Let’s do this.”
Chapter 39: Fire in the Deep!
Zahna stared down the tunnel, Remembering Backwards. She’d bound her everlight to the top of her staff so it worked like a flamele
ss torch. This gave her a good view of the tunnel, as of right now. She was, however, more interested in as of in a few moments.
Behind her, bones clattered and crunched. “No surge here, either,” said Millicent.
“One of your avatars got lucky,” said Ingar.
“Imagine having dozens of…surges one after the other,” purred Millicent.
“Shush!” snapped Zahna. She should probably have left Ingar to do his job, but honestly, that woman was turning him into a liability. It would have been better if she’d taken hrt damn pills…except there’d been that look in Torstag’s eyes. I’m not a bad person, I’m just Driven.
You are Cold. Wrestling with issue Irritated by People Stuff 1/6, Cost 1 Potestas. 7 of 6 remaining.
Loss falls short of Will 3. Hindrance avoided.
“Let me concentrate!” She squinted at the tunnel.
How am I doing?
Current Form 3
Performing Wizard at level 9.
Backwards Remembering for an hour or so.
7 of 6 Potestas remaining.
Zahna had burned three Potestas on attempts just to get her Form to above one. It was as if the mere presence of the older woman was enough to spoil things. Worse, taking portents had already cost her one Potestas, and Backwards Remembering had cost her another. At least making up a flask of pre-enchanted healing tea had not cost her anything.
Fortunately, she had enough form to see the possibilities of grisly death floating around the first two traps. Further off there was also a sense of falling.
The Jungle Tomb of the Ice Queen (The Flying Tooth Garden Book 1) Page 24