Beta Chapter 13-14 (Patreon)

Chapter 13:

“Where do you think you’re going?” Karen asked, stepping out of the darkened alley just outside the temporary refugee housing. The woman was still limping from the wounds she’d sustained covering the villager’s retreat, but that wasn’t enough to keep her from getting in Jinnei’s way.

Jinnei pulled back her hood and scowled at Karen. She’d been hoping to slip out without her mother noticing, but that was long since passed.

“I’m joining the recovery mission.”

“The recovery mission is a publicity stunt to prove the Gadveran military won’t take this kind of thing lying down, and it’s a damn stupid idea. Everyone they took was dead within a day and stored up in their icy mountain larders. It’s been weeks.”

“Calvin is not dead.” Jinnei said, clenching her fist and glaring. She wasn’t going to be the one to give up on him. She was incapable of it.

“You’re right.” Karen said with a shrug.

“What?” Jinnei breathed. “Then why are you stopping me?”

“The two of you…my kids, Elaine’s kids, you’re special. And Fate shouts in my ear that she’s got more planned for both of you than a Genosian’s shit on the side of a mountain.”

Karen held up a finger. “As long as you don’t jump into their mouths yourself. You’re too precious to me to allow you to go off on an ill-advised political knee jerk reaction that will no doubt do more harm than good.”

“How do you even know this?” Jinnei asked.

“I’ve been around the block a few times. I can tell which way the wind is blowing. Call it whatever you like, you and me are leaving Gadvera tonight.”

Jinnei frowned, uncomprehending. “Leave? All of Gadvera? We can’t leave. This is our home!” Her anger unwound until she was shouting at her mother.

“Please, Jinnei. I can’t let anything bad happen to you, and that’s going to be very difficult a few months from now.”

“Why?”

Karen winced.

“Why?” she demanded again. Whatever Karen was withholding from her would no doubt convince her to stay. If it would be difficult to protect me, and she wants to leave all of Gadvera…

“You think Gadvera is going to fall.” Jinnei accused.

“From an old soldier’s perspective, it doesn’t look good.” Karen said.

“Then fight!”

“I’m done fighting for a kingdom,” Karen said. “I’m fighting for my children.”

“To the hells with you then, I’ll fight myself!” Jinnei shouted, moving to step past her.

In a move too fast for the eyes, Karen bonked Jinnei on the head, causing her to slump forward into the large woman’s waiting arms.

“Sorry, girl.” She whispered, throwing her over her shoulder and heading towards the port. The boat was waiting.

***Calvin***

Much to Calvin’s consternation, they kept feeding him the vile mixture every morning. When asked if it was the Guya, they laughed and shook their heads, explaining that it was Noeula, to make him grow up big and strong.

Calvin was pretty sure they knew he was a wizard, and had decided to keep his Bent to controllable levels. He usually had one back by the evening, as he was approaching two a day, but one or two spells wasn’t good enough to run away with.

On the fourth day, they brought him outside, into the freezing cold of the high mountains.

“Oh, gods!” Cal said, shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself. Gadveran clothes were not designed to be climbing mountains in.

“Hah, we share the same discomfort in your warm forests.” Aoehe said as he guided the manacled young man around the Iron Skin camp.

It was a series of several dozen yurts placed in barren, rocky soil several hundred feet above the frost line. Stretching down below them were the slopes of the Genosian mountains, disappearing into the thick subtropical forest below them.

“Why d-do you live up here?” Cal asked, trying to keep the shiver out of his voice.

“Look there,” Aoehe said, pointing. He followed the man’s gaze to a strange chitinous thing undulating between the trees. One orange-rimmed plate could roof an entire hut from Cal’s village, and there were at least twenty of them…that he could see. The creature was enormous.

“That is why we live up here. Things that would make a meal of us simply do not like the cold. From here we can hunt the Warped that are not poisonous, but those are few and far between. Any crops we would plant must by necessity be in the forest, and we would lose more people than they would feed. Even then, the fruit of plants does not sit well in our stomachs. To hunt, we must make large groups, trusting in the safety in numbers to bring in enough to keep us fed. This is why we are not so picky about where our meat comes from.”

It also helped explain the role of Maje, and their Chained Spirits. Take a hunter in the prime of his life, turn him into a Bent transaction, and he can go hunt for food for the tribe, risk-free to the summoner and the rest of the tribe. If he gets chomped on, just make another.

Matter of fact, Cal thought, the fat one summoned three identical ones in succession. They were smaller, most likely because his skill wasn’t as high as Aoehe’s. That means a single Maje can field a fighting force equal to their Stability.

But why pick me? Sure I took out three of a rival tribe, but I’m fairly sure the man said the word ‘Maje’ while pointing at me. Aoehe must know I used Bent-based tricks to kill the tribesmen. Can a summoned creature use Bent?

“It is also why I suggest you do not run,” Aoehe continued, heedless of Cal’s thoughts. “There are miles and miles of harsh jungle filled with Warped creatures, and going into the jungle alone and unarmed would simply serve to feed the animals.”

“I see that.” Cal said, spotting another creature the size of a house moving through the forest.

“Good.” he patted Cal on the shoulder.

“Come this way, I will show you my daughter.”

Cal glanced around at the grey men and grey-pink/purple women staring at him, and decided to ask his question anyway. Hopefully Melau had neglected to mention exactly how much she’d told him about Incha Huala.

“So what is an Incha Huala, anyway?”

“Oh?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “You express interest?”

“Thought I should know.” Cal said.

“It is something like a mate, or in ilethan…protector?”

“Bodyguard with benefits?” Cal asked. the old guy sure does know how to make it sound appealing to a foreigner. Cal would bet money he wouldn’t mention the eating-you-at-your-prime part. On the bright side, that meant Calvin had a good five to ten years, assuming everything went to schedule.

“Hah! That is a funny way of putting it! The Guya is strong, and that often leads to mating. You will belong to each other.”

“Sounds a bit like marriage.”

“A bit. Although this function is not limited by gender, Women are rarely Incha Huala or Maje. I am unusual in that I believe the strength of the Maje’s arm has no bearing on the Incha Huala, only the strength of their will. Show me a hardened warrior, victor of many battles, and I will show you one more man that cannot oppose his mother. By my logic, women make excellent Maje.”

Moms are tough, Cal thought with a frown. His frame of reference might be a bit skewed, though. Mrs. Marshine never killed a man bare-handed.

Aoehe glanced over his shoulder at Cal’s expression. “Does this bond offend you?”

“The alternative’s getting eaten right?” Cal asked.

Aoehe gave him a wide, shark-toothed grin by way of explanation.

“You’re telling me my choices are being some girl’s bodyguard and maybe getting some on the side, or death? I’ll have to think about it.”

“Your humor is rather dry.”

Aoehe guided Cal’s manacled form past several yurts with older women and children chipping flakes of obsidian to be used in their weapons. Beyond those yurts was the obsidian-laced stone face of the mountain, that seemed to have a large opening carved out of it, leading deep into the earth.

“What’s that?”

“The freezer,” Aoehe said. “Regardless of sunlight or season, it is always below freezing in there, so we use it to store game from our hunts.”

He tugged on a bit of his pelts to indicate it was for storing animals, but Cal wasn’t buying it.

Read Expression has reached Level 4! 20% Correction.

Despite his wariness, Cal let the question lie. He wasn’t interested in making a scene when he was in a position where he couldn’t defend himself.

Cal followed Aoehe to one of the Yurts in the corner of the village, and announced their presence before opening the door and going in. Not really seeing anything else to do, Cal followed him.

“Ella, meet the new candidate for your Incha Huala.” Aoehe said, motioning to Cal.

When Cal’s eyes finally adjusted, he blinked a couple times to make sure what he was seeing was real.

Ella was rather large, perhaps six feet tall, and wide, unlike her father. Whatever trait he’d inherited from his father that made him tall and skinny had decided to preform double duty.

She wasn’t fat. Her waist drew in to a smooth, toned stomach, but her hips flared back out, leading into strong grey-purple thighs. Her chest was…also large. Her breasts strained the leather top she wore.

She had a round face with delicate black brows and plump dark lips. Even tightened in concentration, they looked soft and inviting.

She was sitting in front of them, wrapping leather around an extra-large, custom made club lined with razor sharp obsidian. Beside her, a pot of leather and bones was boiling down to make glue.

Good thing she’s a Genosian cannibal or I’d be panting like a dog.

“You said you didn’t believe strength of arm was a factor.” Cal whispered to Aoehe.

“I don’t, but her size made it easier to convince others.” He whispered back.

“Aaah.”

“He looks weak.” Ella said, looking Calvin up and down before returning to her club.

“I resemble that remark.” Cal said in Gadveran

“He killed three Seeker tribe by himself, with no weapons.”

“Technically I used their weapons.” Cal said. “And fire.”

“See?” Aoehe said with a grin.

“Father, you aren’t acting on hearsay again, are you?”

Aoehe pouted.

“No, Umea just told me…”

“That’s hearsay.” Cal and Ella said at the same time before catching each other’s gaze.

Ella seemed a bit startled, and seeing the expression change on her face made Calvin’s heart pound in his chest. Cal shut it down.

Nope, not getting the hots for Genosian cannibals, no matter how soft they look, or cute they are when caught off guard. That is right out.

“See, already in sync without Goya.” Aoehe said, tugging Calvin back out into the chill of the mountain air.

“That was brief.” Cal said.

“Plenty of time later. For now, let’s talk about what you’ll do to earn your keep while you’re here. Come.” He guided Cal along the row of Yurts.

Crap. Even back at my own village, I had a hard time justifying my existence.

“Here we have tanning, knife and club-making, cooking…”

“Could I hunt?”

“eh?” Aoehe said.

“I mean no disrespect, but I’d much rather eat something that I know where it came from.” Cal said.

“Gadverans are strange…” he pondered for a while. “Yes, Incha Huala are meant to hunt as well, so we will have to test your mettle in that regard, but not until you have taken Goya with Ella. In the meantime, we will give you a sack of flour one of our…less intelligent warriors took as plunder.”

“Thank you for you-“ Cal was suddenly knocked off balance as one of the wide, muscular young men, maybe a year or two older, suddenly turned and slammed into him. Cal fell to the ground with a strangled squawk.

“You are not worthy of Ella. The only thing a scrawny brat like you is good for is stew and glue,” he said, spitting a large glob of snot onto Cal’s chest while the rest of the village laughed. When Cal didn’t do anything, he snorted and sauntered away, his shoulders rocking back and forth like he’d just…won something?

“I don’t get it,” Cal said, wiping the phlegm off his shirt and flicking it onto the ground.

“The Position of Incha Huala is highly sought after, and with Ella in particular…the competition among men has been fierce.”

“Hah,” Calvin chuckled. So I guess I got seeded by the old man. “So I guess I shouldn’t let anyone do that to me while I’m supposed to be the Incha Huala candidate?”

“With enough pressure from the village, I can be forced to choose another. If you’re no longer the Incha Huala candidate, then you are food.”

Chapter 14: How to Win a Pissing contest.

“So…I’m not a natural at social interactions. Should I humiliate him or just kill him? Where do you draw the line? I assume killing him is off the table, but if there’s some kind of no-holds-barred clause on the Incha Huala agreement, I think I should know about it.”

“it’d be best if you don’t kill him.”

“Well that makes things harder. What’s his name and which Yurt is his?” Cal asked.

“Goeha, and that one.”

Calvin rolled his shoulders. Getting in pissing contests wasn’t exactly his style, or something he was comfortable with at all, but when the alternative was death, it really put things in perspective.

“Hey Goeha!” Calvin shouted, walking over to Goeha’s tent, chains tinkling against the obsidian studded ground as he walked.

The young man glanced over his shoulder, then frowned as Cal undid the buttons of his fly.

Calvin freed his cock and started pissing all over Goeha’s yurt. Pissing contests were called pissing contests for a reason, and when unfamiliar with the culture or the context, the easiest way to bait someone was to piss on their stuff. Nobody liked that.

“When you fall asleep tonight, you can breathe deep and think of me, eh?” Calvin asked the already sprinting Goeha.

Calvin was shaking the last drops off the tip when Goeha collided into him at full speed.

Calvin jumped straight up, letting the chains between his manacles wrap around the young Genosian’s throat. Goeha’s momentum flipped Calvin over and suddenly the two of them were back to back, with Goeha’s face pressed into the piss-soaked leather wall of his home.

Need a better grip.

While Goeha gasped with surprise and reached up to his throat, Cal slipped down and pirouetted as quickly as he could stomach, winding the chains into a tight double helix, until his wrists and Goeha’s neck were both experiencing an awful amount of torque.

Goeha tried to say something, but it only came out as a rasp. His grey skin turned silver as he triggered what Cal assumed was the Iron-skin tribe’s proprietary Ability. It didn’t help him breathe, though.

“So, do I have to rape him or steal his food bowl or anything culture specific? Cal asked, putting his knee on the back of the muscular young man’s head as he tried to push himself up, forcing the suffocating warrior back down into the growing yellow puddle on the ground.

Aoehe seemed like he was at a loss for words.

“Please, I want to do this right the first time.”

“Rubbing his face in your piss is pretty universal.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cal said, glancing over where Ella had exited her hut to investigate the sound of the crowd. Cal smiled and waved a tight little wave, as his wrists were bound in place.

She seemed impressed.

Oh man, I should humiliate people all the time. It’s not that hard.

“I think he’s dying.” Aoehe said, pointing to where Goeha had slumped to the ground limp, his face purple.

“So he is,” Cal said, unwinding the chains.

Goeha’s unconscious body gave a swift gasp and then resumed breathing normally, face down in the puddle.

Finish the Job. Some part of Cal’s subconscious seemed to speak to him.

Since he’s not going anywhere, might as well finish the job. Can’t let them think I’m a pushover.

Whistling, Calvin retrieved a chip of sharp obsidian from a tool bench nearby and was about to start carving his name into Goeha’s back when Aoehe caught his hand.

“I think that’s enough.” The Maje said.

“Are you sure? Because I really don’t want to get challenged by everyone with a hard-on for your daughter.”

“I’m sure. Putting scars on his back would not win you any friends here.”

Cal glanced around at the watching tribesmen with intricate scarification and tattoos. Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t like that.

“Alright then,” Cal said, tossing the obsidian flake aside and dusting off his hands before standing up. “Show me where you want me to work.”

Cal was directed to an elderly man who painstakingly tanned leathers, and left the two of them together.

“Nice to meet you,” Cal said, “My name’s Calvin.”

“Sit there,” the old man grunted, pinting at a little wooden stool before handing him a bloody piece of pelt and a stone scraping tool.

“Start scraping.”

Cal shrugged, sat down and started scraping.

In the next six hours, Cal learned more about tanning than he’d ever wanted to know. Once the work day was over, Aoehe came and brought him back to his home and secured his manacles to the tree in the center again.

“How long do I have to keep wearing these?” Cal asked, gesturing to the iron cuffs around his wrists.

“Until Guya ceremony. Sleep well.” Aoehe turned and left.

To the hells with that. Cal thought.

He’d built up a single Bent since the sludge this morning, and he wanted to try a little trick that had been tickling the back of his mind since the first night.

If he could deliberately avoid Splitting some parts of an object to make changes to it, like with the sawblade, was it not also possible to make entirely new objects as long as their entire form could fit inside the original object?

Take Cal’s manacles for example. They had a large flat area where they came together to form the lock. If Cal could Split only a portion of the flat area that conformed to the shape of a key, he could in essence, make a key.

Cal closed his eyes and pictured a key. He didn’t know exactly what it looked like, since he was unconscious when he’d been captured originally, but Ithelans weren’t exactly known for their complex lockwork. A simple one or two toothed key should do just fine.

Cal stared at the manacle, and pictured a key with two teeth on one side and one on the other, and overlaid it on the flat spot.

Right there.

Splitting

0/10 Bent remaining.

A two-sided key landed in Cal’s palm, made from the dull iron of his restraints.

I am the lord of all creation! Mauahahahah!

Cal didn’t celebrate aloud for obvious reasons, but it was very exciting to expand his knowledge of his own abilities.

It took a lot of finagling, a sprained wrist, and nearly dropping the key several times, but after a good ten minutes, Cal opened the lock on his left hand, followed shortly by his right hand. It was a one-tooth lock, the absolute easiest to pick.

Once the manacles were off his arms, Cal did the ones on his legs, and then began creeping toward the door.

He heard the noise and laughter of the Genosians having their end-of day gathering, where they sat around a fire and chatted.

Their night vision probably wasn’t too good.

Cal peeked his out the door of the yurt and didn’t see or feel anyone looking his way, so he darted out and into the cold mountain air. No gazes landed on him as he slunk through the shadows.

Suppressing a shiver, Cal made his way to the back of the yurts, that narrow space between the leather and the rock, working his way around to the Freezer.

He wasn’t trying to escape. He was looking for a way to resist the Guya. Maybe if he could find a barrel of the stuff, whatever it was, he could build up a tolerance, or something. If worse came to worst, maybe he could make some kind of tube and have the stuff pass through his jaw rather than his stomach.

Cal crept into the narrow cave and was amazed by the fact that he could still see.

Interspersed with the obsidian were little blinking blue lights lining one side of the ceiling, casting the freezing cold cavern in an icy color.

The cold in the freezer was intense, and Cal hugged his arms around his chest as he continued through the tunnel. He would have to make this a quick trip.

Without warning, the cavern opened up, revealing a wide, chamber coated in thick frost. On the left, Cal spotted the blinking blue lights, and a strange silver steel outcropping jutting from the ceiling. There was a gash in the steel and a long black tube hung out of it, dribbling a black-green fluid into a barrel placed beneath it.

Curiously, Cal crept forward and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling in distaste. Noeula, or a main ingredient of it. Cal wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about drinking an unidentified liquid that poured down from a mysterious object embedded in the obsidian ceiling, but he didn’t exactly have a choice, and he hadn’t gotten sick yet.

Beside the barrel were dozens of strange centipede-like creatures on a rack, with their pincers torn off and shells stripped away.

The other side of the room was dim, as all the blinking lights seemed to be on this side. But Cal could make out supplies, untanned pelts on pilfered barrels and shelves obviously made by non-Genosian carpenters.

Cal snuck through the cold blue air, trying not to shiver as he investigated the darker part of the freezer.

It was there that Cal found the answer to resisting the Guya.

Kort and Persei were laid out against the far wall, their expressions at the moment of their death frozen in place by the chilled air of the freezer. Kort was covered head to toe in wounds, as if he’d taken many blows before finally bleeding out. His face was fixed in anger.

Persei was naked, her left arm and a large portion of her ribcage was missing, chiseled away for Genosian cook-pots. Her expression as she was slowly carved away was one of absolute terror.

Seeing his friends like that created an iron core of hatred inside him. It didn’t burn, or chill. It was simply the solid, weighty determination to live long enough to escape and come back to rain down hell upon them.

A more enlightened man might have thought of some way to end the cycle of violence, or teach them to grow their own sheep. Something. They would eat him.

“..I’m saying I agree with the Maje, the outcome is all that matters. He took down Goeha handily enough.” A voice echoed form down the hall, causing Cal to dart behind a shelf in a panic, wincing as he pressed up against the frozen stone.

“All he did was jump around like a monkey. How is a skinny thing like that supposed to wrestle a Couna into submission or fire a warbow?” Another voice said as they emerged from the tunnel.

“You’re just saying that because Goeha is your son,” The first woman accused.

Two older women chatted with each other about the state of Ella’s Incha Huala as they carved off more of Persei’s corpse to take to the night’s gathering. They didn’t spot him hunkering behind a shelf.

Cal closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch, but the tap, tap, tap, of the sharp obsidian chisel felt like it was forcing its way through his heart. Cal waited until they were done and emerged from behind the shelve, shivering uncontrollably now.

He forced himself not to look back at Persei as he followed the two women out of the cave.

It wouldn’t make a difference.

Cal was able to slip back into his temporary housing and relatch his manacles, cold iron settling in the core of his being.

It took a long time to fall asleep that night, so when Aoehe came to wake him up in the morning, he was bleary and out of sorts.

Genosian language has reached Level 2! 10% correction.

“What?” he asked, the Maje’s sentence not quite registering in his mind with the voice of the System talking at him at the same time in Gadveran.

“You have been challenged to a duel!” Aoehe said with his usual enthusiasm.

"Five more minutes," Cal said, rolling over.