Call Your Steel

by G. D. Penman

  To the south, Lucia banked the fires of fury within as her people gasped for air. She could not pray, because who would an Eater pray to, but she hoped with all of her might, and the forest answered.

  As the sun rose, the pods burst open. From within them huge white flowers unfurled. A thick cloud of seeds and sticky yellow pollen swept out to catch in the breeze and drift off across the Land of the Gods. The earth had not lost any of its life-giving capabilities, despite the long rest that it had taken. Everywhere the seeds fell, they took root. The Strangled Forest began to draw in a steady breath once again. The sunlight fuelling its transformation as it had the vestigial green in every plant across the surface of the world. Moment by moment, now that they had returned to their purpose, the plants of the world drew in the breath of the human race and returned it as fresh air. By Metharia’s bedside the lantern flame grew stronger.

  Those that survived that last night were overjoyed when they rose up and could breathe again. Arlia was overjoyed to have returned to court in any capacity, even if it was only as Lucia’s spy among the common people. In the coming elections that flicker of acknowledgement would probably be enough to secure her a position as Pontifex again, even if it was out in the provinces. Metharia was one of the last to come around. Lucia had sat on the bedside and let her fingers brush softly over the girl’s bare scalp. Tracing little circles there and smiling softly despite herself. Metharia had been invaluable. She had been exactly what Lucia had needed when she had needed it the most. When her eyes snapped open there was a dreadful moment of fear in her expression before her eyes met Lucia’s.

  Metharia leaned into the other woman’s touch and drew in an unsteady breath. She whispered, “You did it. You saved us. Just as you promised that you would.”

  With obvious effort she pulled herself up onto her elbows and before Lucia could help her or move aside, her lips brushed against Lucia’s. She slipped back and her head thumped against the hard pallet.

  Lucia stared at her as if she had been struck. The corner of Metharia’s mouth was turned up, “I apologise if that offended you, my lady. I cannot lie and pretend that I regret it, but I will not do it again without your permission.”

  Lucia leaned close and planted a peck of her own on Metharia’s dry lips. She drew back a hand’s breadth and smirked, “I am glad you’re alright. We can talk more about kissing when your strength returns.”

  Metharia’s eyes sparkled at the prospect and the knot of tension between her shoulders immediately loosened. This had been a dangerous ploy that could have backfired badly. She had lain there through those long dull days thinking it through from every angle, adding up the sum of all the sideways glances and smiles that Lucia did not know that she had noticed. What else were you supposed to do when you were faking a coma? This would cement her position. It wasn’t as though anyone else would be lining up to fulfil the carnal pleasures of whatever scaly, malformed thing Lucia was becoming.

  Life returned. Both within the city, in its usual routines and to the lands outside the city walls where green was spreading across the landscape at such a speed that it seemed virulent. The vines sprung up across the north, hardy enough to shrug off the worst frosts while other plants, long forgotten and assumed dead, were beginning to spring to life. Even the Ashen Dales were losing their uniform grey colouration as seedlings sprouted from the virile soil below the ash. Meetings and councils and audiences started up once again. Every moment of Lucia’s life was filling up to bursting with them.

  There were days when Lucia wondered how much more she would even need to do. Her people were learning to do right by each other for the simple reward of their good behaviour becoming known. She knew that she could not leave them to govern themselves yet. But time was firmly on her side. She was coming to understand just what immortality meant. She could not trust this generation of nobles, their offspring would likewise be tainted by stories of the good old days when they were free to do as they wished. But the generation that followed? Could she leave them to care for the Ivory City?

  She could ease her control and observe them for a time. There was no need to do things rushed and bloody when you had endless days.

  Time passed and with it the cycle of seasons. Each night Lucia crept up the stairs to her chambers. As much as she had become accustomed to her new lack of sleep the rest of the city still needed time to recuperate. All except for Metharia, who seemed to subsist on cat-naps during the meetings and audiences Lucia believed that she could handle herself, or that Metharia had no stomach for. She avoided meeting the Chosen studiously. She would not speak to them, she would not acknowledge them. The Chosen themselves seemed to consider her something equivalent to a deserter, but her obvious favour with the Eater kept them silent. There were not many Chosen left in the city, those that remained were more of a police force than an army. Under Metharia's advisement Lucia had sent them all out into the field. To begin with, they were meant to be an early warning system for when the other Eaters finally gathered the resources to attack once more. As time went by their roles shifted. They no longer just enforced edicts, they carried Lucia's words to the people in her domain. They carried the meaning of those words along with them.

  The Pontifex for all the territories were re-elected. A huge shift to smaller noble houses had inevitably occurred, but they often found themselves struggling to find a community that needed their preaching and interpretation. The Chosen were spreading the news faster than human legs could carry them.

  There was a slow, steady flow of immigrants from the lands of the other Eaters. As word spread of Lucia's treatment of her people, the more defectors she received in her open arms. Several of her Chosen that she had employed as lesser generals in the siege had gathered the necessary courage to inform her that there were dozens, if not hundreds of spies for those foreign powers slipping in alongside the genuine freedom-hunters. With a smile, she had informed them that she hoped everything done in the Ivory City was being reported back to the other Eaters. That every detail was passing from lips to ears and growing with the telling. This was the warfare that Lucia was confident engaging in, these battles to win the love of the commoners with kindness. It was all one long glorious performance.

  The meetings where she discussed such things, albeit obliquely, with her people were amongst those that Metharia did not attend. It was outside of the Chosen’s areas of study. Metharia never contradicted her publicly and even in private they never butted heads directly. If Metharia disagreed with a course of action, then they would discuss it and discuss it, she would insinuate herself around her point until Lucia had assumed the other side of the argument. The first few times it had happened Lucia had felt a spark of anger at the manipulation, had even said as much, but gradually she realised that this strange relic from the old order hated any sort of direct conflict. Metharia hated to do anything that might make Lucia unhappy. She had practically fled the capitol when Lucia got annoyed with her. Even after Lucia dragged her back, even after Lucia had apologised to her she was still stiff, formal and quiet for weeks.

  When Lucia entered her chambers, there were dribbling masses of candles illuminating the area around the bed. Metharia was never in the dark. everywhere she went she carried a candle. A little eccentricity that she attributed to having spent years alone out in the dark lands. Instantly, Lucia dropped into a crouch and silenced all the noises of her movement with a quick exertion of will. She made her way across the chamber, eyes darting around the shadows. She did not make a sound. She knew that she did not make a sound. Yet still Metharia was lounging awake and smiling on the bed before she got close enough. Some day she would catch the infuriating bald woman sleeping again and she would fetch out some ink and draw on her head. This was a fantasy that had been long in development. Initially she had only wanted to catch her out, to see her being human and not the perfect servant. With each thwarted attempt, her intentions had grown more twisted. Metharia must have known. Either she had worked it out or she
had known all along. It was the only explanation for her smug smirk every single time Lucia thought she had caught her out.

  The smirk was all that Metharia was wearing and Lucia couldn't help but return the smile as she was dragged down onto the bed. The year had changed Lucia further, every moment in the sunlight had spurned it on, she still did not know where the metamorphosis would end but she had grown taller than before, her neck had elongated. Her face had elongated too, the nose flattening down as the rest of the face extended further forward and her eyes shifted out to the sides.

  All of her hair was long gone now and the tiny silver scales covered her completely. The changes that had troubled her the most were easily concealed outside of this chamber. Two protrusions grew from between her shoulder blades, angled upwards and getting longer each day. The tail had been a shock too. At first it had just been a feeling of discomfort when she sat, but as her neck lengthened and her flexibility increased, she was able to turn and look at it directly. It was still whip thin but it was broader at its base, tapering to a point. She had locked herself in her chambers for three days after that particular discovery. It was only Metharia's constant coaxing, and their newfound intimacy that had pulled her out of the her panic and back into her work.

  ***

  The bay reeked of spoiled fat. The surface of the water was clogged with foul smelling foam, smears of blood and smothered fish that had tried to steal a free meal. Armoured Chosen patrolled the cliffs above, keeping watch across the grass and swamps, lands that were now growing green once again. Beneath the cliffs, the sea had hollowed out a cave, but it was hidden by the tide for all but two hours each day, when the tide was at its lowest. Those hours were when the Beloved would swim out to commune with Ochress and carry its commandments out into the world. No-one else knew what lay within the cave. It had taken only a few weeks of observation for Kaius to identify the Beloved and learn the patterns. Security was not lax, it was absent.

  Kaius swam in with easy strokes. His initial plans had been thwarted by the pus-filled water. The form of a fish was apparently too obvious a choice. He had choked and spluttered on the filth clogging up his gills. He had become disoriented and struck first the sea's rocky bed and then burst out of the water's surface into sight of the patrols. He had finally oriented himself and fled back out to sea where he had constructed a far more complex weaving of power.

  There were great hunting beasts in the sea by Vulkas' lands, and he had taken the time to study them when he was passing through, performing his reconnaissance. He took on the form of one of them, delighting in the feel of his warm blood in the cold water, and the buoyancy that his air-filled lungs granted him. As an after-thought. he created a tiny bubble of air and wrapped it around his head. However long he could hold his breath as one of these creatures, he did not want to have to rush.

  He chose to enter at night while the moon's rejuvenating light filtered down to him. He swam forward through the murky water until he could no longer feel the moonlight or air above. He swam on until he brushed against something huge. Something that was rubbery and white. It flinched away from his touch. Still blind in the filth, he came to a decision. He let his newly acquired eyes with their helpful transparent lids revert to those that nature had given him, and that the heart of Walpurgan had made so much better.

  He let his eyes shift and shimmer out of focus until he saw the vectors of power woven through the creature ahead. With barely an effort, he eased his will inside the thickest of the cords like a parasite and ever so slowly filtered the power flowing through it. If this was as successful here as it had been with the unfortunate Chosen of Vulkas who had stopped him during his pilgrimage from the Glasslands, the gifts that Ochress had given to its Chosen would be blocked, along with any message it tried to send. With that done, Kaius reverted the rest of his body to normal and expanded his bubble of air gradually. First he was enclosed and could only drift through the water by force of will, then until the entire chamber was emptied of water.

  Ochress would once have struck an imposing figure. Its tail was like that of some great white whale with a massive human torso moulded seamlessly ahead of the dorsal fin. Its arms were thick and powerful, supporting its tremendous weight when it was unceremoniously dumped onto the cavern floor. There were no fingernails on the hands. In fact, there was very little detail anywhere on the porcelain expanse of flesh. It seemed almost too perfect until Kaius strolled around to the front. Where he would have expected a head, there was only the stump of a neck, the source of the constant oozing of blood and effluence. It had been burned clean off. Kaius nearly laughed aloud.

  One of the greatest seafaring empires had this as its ruler. He assumed that there must have been some part of the brain stem still intact to keep the thing flailing around. The hands formed fists and began beating against the solid stone. It startled Kaius for a moment before he realised that it was not an attempt to defend itself, only a temper tantrum at being taken out of its bath.

  Kaius strolled up the slope onto the platform where the creature's only caretaker would stand during their visits, then he made some more decisions. The air would not last forever, and the Beloved would be visiting in a short ten hours. There was no possibility of eating the entire thing. But as was proven with Walpurgan, if everything but a single part was annihilated, what was left behind granted the power of the full thing when consumed. Fire was no longer part of Kaius’ repertoire, but he had a year of practice and a very flexible, if one track, mind. He created a thread of air and hardened it until it had a razor's edge. He laid it carefully across the top of the huge creature and then began duplicating it, over and over again. The cage of fire had served so well with the last one but this monster would not have to burn. He made a grid across the whole of the ancient beast. He twisted the threads until their ends met and they were just beginning to bite into the flopping monstrosity's skin.

  Next came the difficult part. Each point where the lines of will crossed lit up with a shimmer of starlight, each point branched out diagonally to meet every other one. Layer after layer after layer of complex meshes covered Ochress, drew its arms in tight against its sides and made it unleash a reverberating groan with every inhalation as its swelling pressed it against the cocoon. Kaius squeezed.

  The flesh was rubbery and soft on the surface levels and the layer of blubber underneath turned into a liquid under the crushing pressure that Kaius exerted. All around him the threads of Ochress power, the entire world of connections it had made, began to blink out of existence. Now someone might recognise that there was trouble. He accelerated the process, crushing the creature until its bones bent under the pressure and finally caved in. He tightened the cage and patched any gaps that the blood was trying to leak from. It was complex beyond any melee he had ever dealt with, beyond any puzzle in any text he had ever read.

  A year ago, Kaius would not have been able to maintain the concentration required to add more pressure. But a year ago Kaius was only human. Over the course of the hour, he crushed Ochress majestic white body into a pink soup and contained it in a sphere small enough to be held in his hands. The pressure alone should have destroyed any life within, but Kaius did not think that anything could kill an Eater. The power could not be destroyed now any more than when it was stolen from the corpses of the gods. It only passed along. He let the water wash over him. It filled the chamber again, clean and pure. He kept the bubble of air around his head only long enough to draw the last of it down into his lungs, then he swam out into the ocean, wondering if he could even drown any more.

  ***

  They tumbled for a while and Lucia lost her loose formal robes. Metharia placed gentle kisses where the scales were thinnest. Where Lucia could still feel. The sensations made her writhe on the bed, tail lashing. The candles burned higher all around them, bathing them in light. She ran her fingers all over Lucia's smooth contours and raked her nails down the thick ridge of scales that ran down her spine, catching the base of her tai
l and holding her still as her kisses trailed lower and lower. Her head dipped down to just below where Lucia's belly-button had once been. She placed a chaste kiss there then abruptly released her.

  Lucia nearly fell off the bed at the sudden lack of contact and made a sound somewhere between a purr and a groan when it became apparent Metharia was stopping. The woman was as constant a source of torment as she was comfort. Lucia watched Metharia swaying her hips across the room to pour a cup of water.

  She grunted in frustration, watching Metharia's plump lips grazing the cup's rim and coming away moist. Metharia gave her another sly smile and settled herself at the bottom of the bed, just out of arm's reach. Her voice was cool and calm when she spoke, “How did the meeting with the union of merchants go?”

  Lucia bit back another grunt of frustration and ordered her thoughts. “The union was very pleased with the new opportunities, and their wealth will buy enough votes from the noble houses who are having trouble making money these days. You know, the old horrible ones.”

  Metharia bowed graciously.“That's excellent. With their support, and the more progressive houses already willing to relinquish power, you may have your council of commons in place within a year. I am not certain how the council of nobles will respond after the fact, however.”

  Lucia shivered a little in the slowly cooling air. “They will complain and complain. They will see the commons become the place laws are actually passed and they will begin by either denying every law that they pass or by declaring new powers for themselves.”